Wildfire by Cathie Linz

thought dimmed accordingly.
    His touch was embroidered with intimacy as his hand circled behind her ear to slowly meander down her neck. The throbbing pulse at the base of her throat told its own story, one that Brady paused to relish. “Your heart’s pounding,” he informed her softly.
    Amanda slowly raised her hand to his chest, the thin material of his shirt acting like a second skin. “So is yours,” she answered with husky unsteadiness.
    Brady’s nimble fingers undid the few remaining buttons until her blouse fell open, revealing the shimmering delicacy of her lingerie. Instead of providing protection from his caresses, the thin nylon of her slip turned his touch into a silky temptation, his featherlight stroking movements igniting new flames in the fire of her desire. His slow touch was far more arousing than any impatient fondling, and it put the other embraces she’d experienced to shame.
    Amanda slid her arms out of the sleeves of her blouse and lifted them to his shoulders, enjoying the feel of the strong column of his neck rubbing against the bare skin of her inner arm. Drifting closer to him, she clasped her arms tightly around his neck and mindlessly guided his lips back to hers for a kiss of unrestrained passion. His mouth readily assimilated hers, his warm tongue drawing hers into an intimatedialogue. The languid tousle was intensely evocative. She returned his play with hungry fire, arching her body against his.
    Their emotions were running high, their self-control low, when the sound of the doorbell invaded their idyllic haven.
    Brady’s mouth eased slightly to whisper, “Don’t answer it. They’ll go away.”
    He was right, they did go away, but the sound of the doorbell was replaced by the clamoring demands of the phone.
    With a frustrated groan, Brady pried himself away from her. “Damn! It could be headquarters. We’ve got to answer it.”
    Amanda was already rolling off the couch. There didn’t seem to be much point in trying to replace her blouse, so she didn’t bother. Brady’s eyes followed her as she moved across the room, noting her elegant carriage and exquisite body. He also observed the change in her manner the moment she identified the caller. Amanda didn’t stay on the phone for long; Brady heard her brief explanation that she had company. But by the time she hung up, her barriers had all been replaced, and the warm, loving woman he’d held in his arms was gone.
    “What’s wrong?” Brady queried, her abrupt mood reversal throwing him off-balance.
    “Nothing.” Her voice was cool as she efficiently picked up her blouse and put it back on before walking over to the bar and pouring herself a sherry.
    “Talk to me,” he coaxed as he walked over to her. His hand on her arm prevented her from turning away.
    There was a certain soothing comfort in his touch that got through to her and made her
say, “That was my mother. She was calling from California.”
    “Is something wrong with her?”
    “Yes,” Amanda flatly replied. “But not in the way you mean. She just got married again.”
    “Isn’t that good news?”
    “Not when it’s for the fourth time.”
    Even Brady looked surprised. “She’s been married four times?”
    Amanda laughed bitterly. “My mother is a staunch supporter of the institution of marriage.”
    “Come on, Mandy. Let’s sit down and talk about it. The news has obviously upset you.”
    But Amanda was no longer in a receptive mood. “Look, Brady, we’ve had our fun and games. Now it’s time for you to leave.”
    “Mandy, I warned you that you weren’t going to be able to get rid of me as easily as you did that klutzy accountant.”
    “I’ll call the police,” she threatened without thinking.
    Brady grinned in amusement. “They already know I’m here.”
    “What do you want?” Her voice was ragged with repressed emotion.
    “Ultimately, you. But for the time being I’ll settle for a little information. You never talk about your family.