Playing with Fire (10 page)

“And left you hanging.”

“Hartwell,” Dylan growled. “Uncuff me.”

“I told you I didn’t want to know anything
about you and Maddie playing with sex toys.”

Dylan snarled. “I had to call somebody.”

“What makes you think I can help?” Shane
pushed himself off the doorframe, picked up the phone from the
floor, and placed it back beside the bed.

“Your girlfriend provided the toys,” Dylan
said smugly. “Get some bolt cutters.”

“I don’t think that’ll work.” He examined the
handcuffs while pink fluff tickled his nose. “We need a key.”

Dylan groaned when the phone rang. “You’ll
have to answer.”

He couldn’t stop the satanic smile that
separated his lips as he palmed the phone. “Carmichael’s
Cathouse.”

“Shane?”

“Hey, Maddie.”

“Is Dylan home?”

“Sure, but he can’t come to the phone right
now.”

“I left with the key in my pocket,” she
whispered. “Can you come to the hospital and get it?”

“Jake will be right there.”

“Jake?!” Dylan and Maddie said in unison.

“Someone has to guard the prisoner,” Shane
said nonchalantly. “And Maddie, do you really wear those
shoes?”

“Goodbye, Shane.”

He smiled in satisfaction as he disconnected
from Maddie and dialed Jake. When he hung up, he turned the phone
around and aimed it at Dylan.

“Hartwell, what the hell are you doing?”

The phone clicked several times.
“Insurance.”

Dylan released a heavy breath. “You know
paybacks are a bitch.”

“I don’t think I’d issue threats from your
position,” Shane warned.

Dylan growled for at least the third time
when the distant wail of sirens echoed off the stillness of the
summer afternoon. “Damn it, Shane! We do have neighbors.”

“Anyone you want me to call?”

Jake strolled into the bedroom. “Somebody
call for a key?”

“Sirens, Jake?” Dylan mumbled.

Jake shrugged. “Shane said it was an
emergency.”

“Dylan and Maddie were playing during the
lunch hour,” Shane explained.

Jake shook his head and bent to unlock the
cuffs. “Do you want a head start before I unlock these?” he asked
Shane over his shoulder.

“Nah. I saved a picture on my cell
phone.”

The handcuffs clicked as Jake inserted the
key, freeing Dylan from his passionate prison.

“Here.” He chuckled and handed the key to
Dylan. “Have a spare made.”

“Any chance you guys will forget this ever
happened?” Dylan asked weakly.

“No,” Shane and Jake answered in unison.

Dylan pulled his pants over his hips. “Didn’t
think so.”

“Now that you’re sprung,” Shane said, “I’m
going home for the afternoon.”

Jake gave him a mocking smile. “Do you want
me to stand by?”

“No. My plans don’t include bondage.”

“Suit yourself. I’ll see you two later.”

As soon as the front door closed, Dylan
sighed. “I could really use a cigarette right about now,” he
mumbled.

“Relax.” Shane handed him a Fireball. “We’ll
go easy on you.”

Dylan snatched the candy and gave a skeptical
squint as he clipped his pager back to his belt. “You meeting
Liberty this afternoon?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t forget about dinner tonight.”

His face split into a wide grin as they left
the house. “Wouldn’t miss it.” He climbed into his truck and
lowered the window. “You don’t forget to have that key made.” He
snickered at Dylan’s scowl as he backed down the driveway.

***

Jake shook his head at his two best friends
and chuckled as he left the scene. Never a dull moment around
either of them. At least someone still had a sense of humor.

His phone rang as he turned the corner.
“Rawlings.”

“Can’t you answer the phone like a normal
person? Hello is polite.”

He bit his tongue to keep from laughing. “Hi,
Mable. How are you feeling?”

“Like I have a broken hip. Bri needs
you.”

His forehead wrinkled. “I gave her my card.
Why didn’t she call me?”

“I don’t have time to soothe your ego, boy.
The electricity is out at the house. I need you to run by and check
on her.”

“Sure. Do you need anything else?”

“No. Maddie’s a doll and I feel like a queen.
Just take care of my niece, I mean, my house.”

“I’m headed there—” He pulled the phone away
from his ear and frowned.
Call ended
? Obviously, she was
finished.

He tossed the phone to the passenger seat and
made the short drive to Mable’s two-story colonial. He glanced up
at the second floor as he left the car. It was a miracle she hadn’t
fallen before now. A woman her age had no business climbing those
stairs. Maybe Bri could talk some sense into her while she
stayed.

He rang the doorbell and waited outside on
the welcome mat, determined to keep himself under control this
time. She was just a woman for God’s sake. An insanely beautiful
one.

Footsteps on the other side of the door
caused his libido to run rogue. So much for control. Those tiny,
little footsteps would bring her sexy self to the door. All the
blood in his body rushed south. Deep south.

“Jake! Hi!” She opened the door and almost
yanked him inside. “Thanks for coming.”

“No problem.” He stepped inside further to
avoid being smacked by the closing door. “Let’s check the breaker
box.”

She nodded and he followed behind as they
went to the garage, his gaze glued to her ass the whole way. Small,
tight and just enough to fill both hands. His cock lengthened.

“I already checked them,” she said as he
stopped in front of the far wall, “but maybe I missed
something.”

Jake stepped to the box and flipped every
breaker in the box. All of a sudden, hard, heavy metal music
invaded the silence. Then the lights flickered and lit the
area.

He turned and gave her a wink. “Guess you
missed one.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Guess so.”

“You listen to that stuff?”

Her face reddened. “Yeah, sometimes.”

“You know, you could have called me yourself.
You didn’t have to have Mable do it.”

She put her hands on her hips and lifted her
chin. “I didn’t ask her. She made that decision on her own.”

“So why didn’t you call?” He crossed his arms
over his chest, somewhat turned on by the music screaming in the
background. The heavy beat tickled his memory. Where had he heard
that song?

“I didn’t need your help.”

“No? You can barely reach the box.”

“I’m not helpless, Jake. I know how to climb
a ladder.”

Maybe it was his imagination, but her hair
seemed to redden as her temper flared. He liked it. He liked it a
lot.

“I’m teasing, Bri.”

“Oh, sorry.” She gave a half laugh. “How
about some coffee?”

“Sounds good.”

Once in the kitchen, Jake braced himself on
one hip against a counter and watched her flit around like a
butterfly on speed. One of two things were happening; either she
was just as turned on as he, or she didn’t want company.

“In a hurry?”

She whirled around, dumping coffee from the
scoop in the process. “What?”

“You’re working at the speed of light. Did I
interrupt you by coming over?”

“Oh.” Her hand shook as she dismissed him
with a slight wave before brushing the coffee into the sink. “No, I
do everything in double time. Mable always accused me of having
ants in my pants.”

She stretched to open the cabinet and his
gaze dropped to her pants - and the legs in them. Lucky for him,
she wore shorts. Daisy Duke short and riding low on her hips.
Although he estimated her height at a little over five feet, those
legs were long enough to grab his attention. He paused at that
thought. Long enough to wrap around someone ... or something.

She turned back around with two mugs in hand.
“How do you drink yours?”

He dragged his gaze from her legs back to her
face. “Black. Have we met before?”

Her eyes widened and one of the mugs fell
from her grasp into the sink. The sound of shattering china filled
the kitchen.

“I don’t think so.” She paused only a second
to place the remaining mug on the counter before she tore a paper
towel from the nearby roll and gathered the broken pieces. “I’ve
spent the last eight years in college.”

He processed her explanation and almost felt
guilty for being angry with her. No wonder Mable didn’t see her
much. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t.” She tossed the paper towel and
pieces of china into the trashcan. “One of the consequences of
quick is clumsy.”

Now convinced he made her extremely nervous,
he decided to back off. He gave her a few seconds to clean up the
mess before he changed the subject. “What’s your major?”

“Criminal psychiatry.”

“I’m impressed.” Her eyes traced his every
step as he moved toward her and reached into the cabinet for a
clean mug. “Liberty could probably give you a few pointers.” His
arm brushed hers as he reached around her for the coffee pot.
Electricity between them caused him to jerk and slosh coffee over
the side.

He tightened his hold on the pot and gestured
for her to extend her mug.

“Thanks,” she murmured as he poured coffee
into her cup.

As hot coffee rolled across his tongue, he
realized the music in the background hadn’t changed. The heavy
tones occupied the back of his brain, over and over again.

And then it hit him. He knew Sabrina
intimately.

***

Convinced he’d given Dylan enough grief for
one day, Shane tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel as he
drove home. Spending the afternoon locked in handcuffs as Liberty’s
prisoner sounded a helluva lot more enticing that what she had
planned. Exorcizing the poltergeist in his head was turning out to
be harder than he thought. Even if it gave him as excuse to see
her.

He ran a hand across the top of his head. He
was going soft. So soft, he’d even agreed to take up painting his
nightmares.
Sucker
. Pulling into the driveway, he parked the
truck and headed inside to set the stage for demon hunting.

Last night’s nightmare had kept him wound up
all day. Or maybe the events leading up the nightmare had been the
cause. He exhaled in frustration. Therapy or sex, preferably the
latter, would provide the answer. One of the two was going to have
to give him some relief. Soon.

A soft knock at the door made him forget all
about evil. Opening the door to Liberty’s sweet smile, he was
overwhelmed with relief. And arousal.

“How are you today?” she asked.

“Better now that you’re here.”

A pale shade of red brightened her cheeks.
“I’m glad you’ve decided to give therapy a chance.”

Therapy. Right
. “I set everything up
in the den.”

He motioned her through the living room and
followed behind, pleasantly surprised by her appearance. She’d
traded her usual short business skirt for hip-hugging jeans that
accented her curves and showcased her perfectly-rounded ass.

“You don’t look dressed for therapy, Dr.
Prescott.”

Her eyes twinkled as she turned to meet his
gaze. “I thought you might be more relaxed if I opted for comfort
today.”

Hardly
.

His eyes left hers to appreciate the
remaining transformation. Her trademark buttoned down blouse had
been replaced by a light pink tank top that conveniently boosted
her breasts to eye level. A smile ruffled his mouth. Comfort? For
half a second, he questioned
her
sanity. The only way he’d
be comfortable was if she were naked under him. Maybe he should
investigate sex therapy after all.

“Besides,” she said, “I have a date
tonight.”

He snapped his eyes from her chest and lifted
an eyebrow. “A date?”

She handed him a paintbrush and grinned. “Not
really. Dylan and Maddie invited me to dinner.”

He bit his lip as his mind flashed back to
Dylan’s reminder about dinner. He and Liberty were being set up,
and the lovely Dr. Prescott didn’t have a clue. Interesting.

He turned to the easel and gave it a blank
stare. “What am I supposed to paint?”

“Start with your childhood home.”

He loaded the paintbrush with green paint and
trailed it haphazardly along the paper.

“Did you and Zach live near each other?” she
asked while he attempted to draw.

He nodded and changed the color to brown. “We
lived five houses apart.”

“What did you do when you were together?”

He grinned. “Raised hell.” Memories of a much
more simple time assaulted his brain. A time when he and Zach were
carefree and constantly up to no good. “There was this big oak tree
in Zach’s yard,” he continued, “that just happened to provide a
perfect view into the house next door.”

“Who lived there?”

He tilted his head to the side thoughtfully.
“Cindy Barton. 36-24-36.”

She rolled her eyes. “Funny what you remember
about your childhood.”

“She was unforgettable,” he mumbled while he
pulled his paintbrush across the paper to draw what was supposed to
be a house. “Liberty, I don’t think this is going to work. I’m more
frustrated than relaxed.”

“Let me see.” She stepped behind his easel
and bit her lip. “You need art lessons.”

He chuckled and tossed the paintbrush onto
the easel. “Thanks a lot.”

“No, really,” she insisted. “I teach a class
on Saturday mornings. You should come.”

While she unclipped his drawing from hell
from the easel, he studied her in the silence. Standing there in
front of the window with the sunlight streaking through, Liberty
looked like an angel. An ebony-haired angel sent to slay the big,
bad wolf inside his head. So peaceful, yet so ... kick-ass.

As his eyes traveled her body, his trusty
erection gave her a standing ovation and he shifted to make a
slight adjustment. Her beautiful body was just the icing on the
cake. Her quick wit, soft voice, and tender nature bewitched him.
And her incredible intellect stimulated every single nerve in his
body.