Wildfire by Cathie Linz Page B

before striding around the low-slung hood to the driver’s side.
    “Are you sure you can handle all this horsepower?” Brady made the mistake of dubiously questioning as she slid behind the wheel.
    “I’m going to drive the car, not carry it,” was her tart rejoinder.
    “You do have a sense of humor,” he
chuckled, suitably abashed.
    “I’d have to around you,” she tossed back.
    “Librarians must make more than I thought,” Brady mused.
    Amanda shot him a startled look. “What makes you say that?”
    “This Porsche.” He patted the dashboard admiringly.
    “I bought it used from one of the students when I first came to Deerfield.”
    “I’m relieved to hear that.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I’d hate to think of you as being independently wealthy, or even close to it. The fact that you own your own house is bad enough.”
    “What’s bad about that? Most men of my acquaintance find it a definite asset.”
    Brady cracked up. “I love the way you word things, Mandy. ‘Men of my acquaintance,’” he repeated with a chuckle and a shake of his head.
    “Why am I taking you to the police station?” she demanded in an annoyed tone. “Where’s your car?”
    “In for repairs.”
    “Both of them?”
    “Yep.”
    “What would you have done if I hadn’t come along? How would you have gotten back to the station then?” she questioned suspiciously.
    “The same way I got out to the college, in a squad car. But then I would’ve had to come back to pick up my men. Besides, you looked like you needed saving from that joker.”
    Somehow Amanda doubted that Guy Lox would appreciate being called a joker. He took himself too seriously for that.
    By this time they were in front of the police station, for it didn’t take long to get from one place to another in a town the size of Deerfield.
    Brady opened his seat belt before turning to her. “Thanks for the lift, Mandy.” He playfully tugged on the renegade strands of honey-gold hair that had escaped her chignon. “I’ll be seeing you.”
    But when she did see him it was in the presence of other people. Two more small fires had been discovered, both in the main administration building, and Brady was working overtime, devoting all his energy to the investigation. On the days she didn’t see him in passing she was reminded of his existence by the continual speculations of her coworkers, while at night her dreams were filled with him.
    Autumn’s radiance had advanced into its mellow stage, but shades of unaccustomed melancholy dampened Amanda’s Halloween. The neighborhood kids had been ringing the bell all afternoon. Caped wonders held their paper bags out for treats, chorusing their thank you’s as Amanda dropped in miniature chocolate bars. This year there seemed to be an abundance of white-sheeted ghosts and hobos. “An accurate reflection on the state of the economy,” was Amanda’s pessimistic decision.
    In an effort to capture some of the gaiety she saw in the children’s faces, Amanda decided to bake a batch of chocolate chip cookies. She creamed the butter and sugar with angry strokes until her arm ached. Interrupted as she was by the constant summons of the front doorbell, it was no wonder that darkness had fallen by the time she put the first batch into the heated oven. Assuming that most of the neighborhood kids had already made their rounds, she was surprised to hear the doorbell ring yet again.
    Grabbing a handful of candy, she pulled open the door. There, where she expected to find a group of costumed children, stood Brady. With his hands braced on either side of the door frame, he leaned forward to drop a kiss on her open lips. Amanda’s reaction was unexpected. She tugged him over the threshold and into the house with a force that momentarily startled him.
    “I had no idea you were so eager to see me, Mandy. If I’d known, I’d have come trick-or-treating sooner.”
    Amanda’s eyes glared her impatience. She knew from experience that