Flash and Fire by Marie Ferrarella Page A

what her story was. What had her looking at him with such suspicion, such wariness, as if she thought he were a wolf about to pounce on her.
    He was beginning to detect a certain vulnerability; there seemed to be more at play here than just the usual standoffishness.
    And he wanted to find out what.
    Maybe it was just the reporter in him taking over. Whatever the case, he was smart enough to know that he was going to need something more than just charm and guile to get her into his bed. He was going to have to reassure her. In order to do that, he needed to know about what.
    There was no way around it. Like a work of popular fiction, the woman intrigued him and kept him turning pages until he got to the ending.
    Before she could draw away, he slowly slid the back of his hand along her cheek. He was sure he saw the tiniest speck of desire glint in her eyes before the loathing choked it off.
    “Too bad. We’re going to have to see about changing that.”
    She gave him a tight smile that looked as phony as she meant it to. She rounded the hood of her car.
    “Not as long as you draw breath.” Amanda got into the driver’s seat and pulled the door shut.
    Whatever Pierce was going to say in reply was lost to her as she turned on the ignition and purposely revved the engine. Throwing the car into reverse, she quickly backed out of her space.
    Pierce had to jump back in order to avoid being run over.
    Amanda had been careful to watch him through her rearview mirror. Her depth perception was magnificent. Only giving the illusion of being careless, she had maneuvered the car close enough to almost press his clothing—and to see that his face had paled.
    Good, that’ll put the fear of God into the son of a bitch.
    Her foot pressing down on the accelerator, Amanda left the parking lot as quickly as the limit of the law allowed her to.

Chapter Eleven

    “”Christopher, what’s come over you?”
    Amanda regarded her son with a reproving eye as she drove out of the parking lot. She knew it wasn’t his fault, but she felt an odd sort of betrayal at the child’s sudden shift in behavior. He was her son, not Alexander’s. She was the one who provided for him, who played with him, who read to him at night no matter how tired she was. How could he just take to Alexander like that?
    What was he, the Pied Piper of Hamlin, to charm Christopher like that?
    “You act like a little wild animal in the store and then that bast—man,” she amended, glancing at the boy quickly to see if he had picked up on the word, “has you eating out of his hand.”
    Christopher looked at her in wide-eyed innocence for a moment, then turned his face toward the window. “Nice man, Mama.”
    “Shows what you know,” she muttered, her annoyance abating. People far brighter than Christopher had been taken in by that southern-boy charm that Pierce wielded so expertly.
    She glanced at Christopher again. If the car seat tether hadn’t been holding him in place, she was certain, he would have been hanging out the open window, trying to catch a glimpse of Pierce.
    Just what was it about that man?
    Amanda looked in the rearview mirror. In the distance, she saw a blue sports car following her. At least it appeared to be following her.
    She was sure it was following her after it mimicked her path, turn for turn, for the next two miles as she made her way home from the store.
    Pierce.
    God damn it, what had brought on this siege? He’d been at the station for six months. After she had rejected his initial attempt to ask her out, he had left her completely alone. What had renewed his interest, or whatever it was that he was displaying? What was she, the challenge of the month for him?
    Amanda chewed on that thought as she drove the rest of the way to her house, her anger unfurling like a huge red flag. Her mounting indignation was soon large enough to blanket and smother that tiny portion of her that was just the slightest bit intrigued.
    No matter how quickly