Chapter Thirteen

Holy mother of God.

The words stuttered through Brendan’s mind as he fell into a pit of fire, darkness, and flaring heat. He considered himself by and large a practical man, his wild streak well disciplined. But now desire tore through him, so hot it instantaneously threatened to dissolve his control.

He’d kissed a lot of women but never one like Ginny Landry. Her soft lips molded to his, wooed, and seduced them apart. Her tongue, a daring thing, speared into him; her flavor, potent as whiskey, went straight to his head.

Dangerous? She was far beyond that.

And he didn’t care. She’d come looking for a man, so she said. Sure and she’d found one.

His heart pounded in his ears as they strained together across the grubby table. When his brain went on sabbatical for lack of air, she finally let him go. Not far—just so she could look into his eyes.

“Oh. My. God.”

Did the words, spoken aloud this time, come from her or from him? Her, he thought. He gazed into her eyes—deep brown and dancing with light. Mischief and desire enough to start him breathing again.

“Let’s get out of here,” he told her.

“Yes.”

They arose from the table as one. She gravitated to him the way iron flew to a magnet, coming hard up against his side and wrapping one arm around his waist. Her head at his shoulder, he guided her out into the night.

“Now, then, let’s try that again.” He backed her up against the building, just as any tramp might a doxy, eager to explore this thing between them. Deep, unplumbed, erotic—he’d never felt anything like it.

Much better without the table between. She pushed right up against him, snaked her arms around his neck, and rubbed hard.

A woman who knew what she wanted was Ginny Landry. She wanted him—despite the fact that he wasn’t ugly.

He dove into her, searched the hot depths of her mouth, and set his hands to roving. Strength lay beneath her dress, lurked in her slender back, and flexed in her buttocks. Strength and softness—a beguiling combination. He bet she’d be a tiger between the sheets.

“There, now.” He ended the kiss with reluctance. “Still think I’m not up to handling you?”

“Um.” Her mouth reached for his again. He held her off.

“Not so fast.” With an effort, he resisted. “You’re drunk.”

“I was drunk. Not anymore.”

“Eh?”

“Whatever this is between us has sobered me.” She licked her lips again, and he felt it all the way down his body. “What is this between us?”

“Lust?”

“I’ve felt lust before. Not like this.”

She was right. This was unexpected, unwelcome. Undeniable.

A boisterous group exited the tavern, nearly jostling them aside.

“Come on,” he said.

They ran, her hand in his, off into the dark. As the noise and brightness faded away behind them, wildness gripped his heart. The dual pounding of their feet echoed, and she kept up with him till they reached a street corner, where she paused, laughing.

“What?” he asked.

“This is fun.”

She moved once more into his arms. This time he buried his hands in her hair while he kissed her. It came loose in his fingers and streamed down her back.

“Gorgeous. You’re gorgeous,” he gasped.

“So, unfortunately, are you.”

“It’s dark here. Maybe you can overlook it.”

“Take me home. I’ll leave the light off in my room.”

“You sure?” He tried to fight back the waves of heat and think clearly. “That’s a thing that can’t be undone.”

“I’d like to undo you. Right out of those clothes.”

Out of his mind, no doubt.

She ran her hands down his body, over his stomach, and lower to cup him through his trousers. “Can’t deny you’re ready.”

“I won’t deny it. And you?”

Only a few buttons on her bodice separated him from warm flesh. He conquered them with shaking fingers and thrust his hand inside. He could feel her heart hammering through her breast as she pebbled against his palm.

Her breath hitched. “Hurry or I’m going to climb you right here on the street.”

“That wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do at all.”

They ran again, still hand in hand. Good thing he knew the city so well, because all his logic and control had flown away. On some level, his sense of direction still operated.

He hoped they didn’t meet a policeman. How embarrassing would that be, she with her bodice flapping open and him so hard he could barely run.

They turned onto Linwood Avenue and stumbled to an immediate halt. Ginny Landry swore. “My house!”

Brendan took in the scene with professional eyes. A crowd of onlookers. The police he’d hoped to duck. A fire wagon and several lost-looking steamies on the sidewalk.

Ginny drew her fingers from his and flew forward. He followed, assessing the damage.

Not as bad as it might be. The flames had been extinguished, and only a lazy plume of smoke arose from the rear of the house. Looked like a lucky escape.

But Ginny might have been inside.

Heart thumping, he joined her where she’d engaged the police officers, both of whom looked at him, startled.

“Brendan.”

“Harry, Stan. What goes on here?”

“Arson,” Harry announced grimly. “Neighbors called it in pretty quick. There’s not a lot of damage.”

“Is everyone all right?” Ginny touched one of the steam units on the arm. “Millie? No one hurt?”

Hurt? Or damaged? Brendan wondered.

“We are all right, miss. Gus was singed while attempting to put out the fire.”

“Gus?” Ginny called. “Where are you?”

A blackened unit trundled forward; Brendan almost thought Ginny would embrace it. It made no reply to her as she fussed over its damaged finish.

He stepped forward. “That will wipe right off, sure.” He demonstrated using the sleeve of his shirt. “See?”

“That’s good. How valiant you were, Gus! How courageous.”

One of the firemen approached. “All the damage was confined to the rear entryway. Some smoke in the kitchen, but that’s it.”

“Thank you,” Ginny told him. “Thank you all.”

She certainly seemed sober now—every bit of it. Almost like a different woman.

“Miss Landry, we’re just about finished here,” Harry told her. “Just let me take a statement from you as to your whereabouts.” He glanced a bit doubtfully at Brendan. “Then we’ll be on our way.”

“Very well. Will you come in?”

Brendan laid a hand on her arm and addressed one of the firemen. “You sure it’s safe inside?”

“It is now.”

Ginny led the police officers in through the front door, and Brendan followed, trailed by all four steamies. The interior of the house smelled heavily of smoke.

A close call and no mistake. What if Ginny Landry hadn’t decided to go out on the town?

The steamies bustled about, the one Ginny had called Millie trundling off to the kitchen. The officers finished their business, nodded at Brendan, and left.

“Oh, hell,” Ginny said. She turned troubled and very sober eyes on Brendan. “Somebody wants me out of here.”

“It would seem so.”

“And that makes me feel stubborn, all the more determined to stay.”

Why didn’t that surprise him? “Well, now, there’s no sense taking foolish chances.”

“I’m in a pickle. I need to make some decisions about my mother’s property before I leave the city. That’s why I went out tonight. I needed time to think and figure out what to do before I’m away for good.”

Away for good. A sick feeling settled in Brendan’s gut.

“Want to tell me? I’ve a decent head on my shoulders. Maybe I can help.”

She began to pace the room. “I’ve had an offer for my mother’s interest in a hospital down on Ellicott Street. From the Automaton Liberation League.”

“I see.”

“On one hand, I don’t want to keep anything my mother touched. Except maybe this house. Why’d they have to hit the house?”

“Because it was easy. And threatening. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“You think so?”

“I do.”

“I could have lost my steamies. They’re so—so innocent. So well meaning. They don’t deserve to be harmed on my account.”

“On your mother’s account,” he corrected softly. “Very little of this is to do with you.”

“Yet if I fail to make the right decisions, the city will go up like a tinderbox.”

“Well, you don’t have to make any decisions at this very minute.” He went to her, caught her shoulders between his hands, and halted her pacing. “Listen, if you’re afraid to stay here tonight, you’re welcome to come back to mine.”

“Afraid? Me?” A smile crooked one corner of her mouth.

“Perhaps I misspoke.”

“Your place, eh?” Heat flooded her gaze. “Tempting.”

“Well, then.”

“Officer Brendan, I’d still like nothing better than to get you out of those clothes and then lick you—slowly—up one side and down the other. It’s going to happen. But I’m afraid it won’t be tonight.”

Brendan struggled to hide his disappointment. “Why?”

“How can I leave the steamies here alone?”

He ran his fingers up her spine. “Let me stay here then.” Rarely did he ask; rarely did he need to.

“Not too discreet, is it? Everyone’s seen you here.”

Damn.

“I’ll feel uneasy leaving you here on your own.”

“Not to worry. I have my steam cannon.”

“Thank God.”

She pressed close against him for the third time that night, tipped up her face, and engaged his eyes. “If we say our goodbyes, that means I get to kiss you good night.” Her lips, warm and alive, claimed his. The last shreds of his sanity flew away. How long the kiss lasted he never later knew. It seemed like forever. And not long enough.

“When?” he asked her raggedly—all he could manage.

“Soon. It better be soon.”

“Fine, that. I’ll find a potato sack.”

She looked askance.

“To wear over me face.”