How to Tame a Wild Fireman (20 page)

“Very sexy.” His voice had dropped an entire octave, from teasing to incendiary. “Mind if we get rid of them?” With a swift motion, he stripped off her pajama top. He bent to her breasts, weighing them reverently in his palms, whispering against her nipple. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind all day. Maybe longer.”

She made an inarticulate sound, completely consumed by the quicksilver heat hurtling through her system like an express train.

He switched to her other nipple, where he alternated between licking and whispering. Both made her equally crazy. He pushed down her pajama pants until they pooled around her feet. “Turn around.”

She stood still while he knelt at her feet and worshipped her body with his hands and his scorching mouth. The silky roughness of his hair brushing against her flesh gave her chills. His tongue glided across the divot behind her knee, up the back of her thigh. Along the way he scattered tender nips that made her gasp. She swallowed the sounds, but couldn’t quiet her jagged breathing. Soon, she forgot to care who might be listening at this time of night.

The night was theirs, hers and her surreptitious lover’s.

She was naked, visibly trembling, as he pulled her against his front, so her bare skin pressed against his clothes. The roughness of denim scraped against the back of her thighs, the heat of his chest radiated through his T-­shirt. Her body clenched, already on the edge of orgasm.

“My wild goddess,” he whispered in her ear. “I want you.” One hand crushed her breasts together, the other clamped between her legs. She arched back against him, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from sobbing with pleasure. His hands felt so good on her body, they knew just how to move and find the spots that cried out for his touch.

Then he swung her around so she faced the window, the gardenia-­scented night air kissing her nipples. He bent her over, placed her hands on the windowsill, then unzipped his jeans. The sharp sound of the zipper made her blood run fast. Oh, how she wanted him. Why had no one ever warned her she could crave someone this much? And then his hard length was inside her, his grip tight on her hips.

She fixed her gaze on the gleam of moonlight on the ladder, which turned to a blur as wild pleasure commanded her senses. The world around her lost its form, and became shadow and brilliance, texture and hardness, heat and yearning. Her body flowed with his, going where he wanted, where she needed to be, where the explosion beckoned. Her climax blindsided her, coming so quickly she let out a little cry before burying her face in the crook of her arm. Brilliant waves flashed through her and, it seemed, around her, incinerating the line between them, transforming her from the inside out.

Did he feel it too? He stiffened, his hips flexing hard against her rear, pushing her against the windowsill. She gave herself to his pleasure until his low groan filtered into the room, mingling with the murmur of cicadas outside.

“Lara,” he murmured, as if it was all he could think to say. He stood her up, then turned her so she nestled against his chest. As he rested his cheek on her head, she felt the racing beat of his heart, the heavy drape of his embracing arms. A deep tenderness swamped her—­he’d needed her just as much as she’d needed him. They were in this together. A different sort of heat bloomed inside her, something warm and grateful and even humble.

To steady herself, she wrapped her arms around him, savoring his solid strength, the spent power still coiled inside him. No words seemed necessary, or even desired. The current that still flowed between them overruled any other form of communication.

They stood melded together for a long, silent, utterly satisfied moment. Slowly she became aware of the night sounds outside the window, the murmur of cicadas, the hum of her old computer.

Eventually, she drew away and murmured, “So, was the Haven all you expected?”

“Better than my wildest dreams.” He lifted his head, as if noticing her room for the first time. “Since I’m here, want to show me the sights? It’s like the Forbidden City in here.”

“Really? You want to see the rest of the Haven?”

“Hell, yes. I spent enough time wondering about it as a kid.”

So for the next hour or so they ran around the Haven in their underwear, giggling like little kids. She showed him the Be Loved and Welcomed Room, where they made a pillow fort out of meditation cushions. They snuck into the Energy Cleansing steam room, where they stripped, got as sweaty as they could stand, then ran outside into air that felt new born, fresh from the earth. They played naked tag in the meditation garden, Patrick vaulting over benches, Lara hiding behind the gong. When he struck poses imitating some of the sacred statues dotting the garden, she laughed so hard she nearly choked from the effort of keeping quiet.

If only she’d had
this
when she first came here. This lightheartedness, this goofy fun. Being with Patrick lightened all those dark nooks and crannies that still lurked in her heart. She didn’t want it to ever end. They laughed and played and teased and kissed until the rising sun sent curious pink tendrils over the horizon.

Just before dawn, Patrick scooped up his clothes, gave her one last, deep kiss, and disappeared into the shadows beyond the house. The last thing she heard was a faint war whoop from the direction of the driveway. An eerie chill went through her as she remembered the last time she’d heard that sound from Patrick.

Chapter Nineteen

A
­couple hours later Lara awoke to banging overhead. And cursing. Then heavy footsteps, and a pounding on her door.

“Lara, are you up?” Vader called.

She rolled out of bed and, with a flush of hot memory, put her silk pajamas back on. “Do I have a choice?” she grumbled as she opened the door.

Covered in sawdust, Vader filled the doorway. “I’m leaving in a few, but I have to talk to you first. I won’t have time to get the roof done. I got the tar paper down, but you’re going to have to hire someone to finish it.”

“Hire someone?” With what funds, exactly?

“I don’t know when I can get back. I have stuff going on at home too.”

“No, no, I totally understand,” she said quickly. “You’ve been great. You’ve done more than enough, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“I got something out of it too, you know. Cherie won’t know what hit her.” He winced and hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans. “Figure of speech.”

Lara pushed a tangle of hair out of her eyes, taking in the manly figure before her. Vader was strong, kind, and pretty good looking, now that she thought about it. “You know something, Vader?”

He gazed down at her with wary walnut-­brown eyes. She leaned in closer and lowered her voice.

“I wouldn’t pay too much attention to what the Goddesses told you. You’re fine just the way you are. I bet Cherie thinks so too.”

A muscle flickered in his jaw.

“Excuse me?” Annabella appeared behind him. “Did you really just tell him not to pay attention to our pearls of wisdom?”

“Eavesdropping?”

“No, just delivering bad news. I was going to, how do you say, sugar it, but somehow I no longer feel the need.” Annabella raised one eyebrow in a magnificently disdainful manner.

Lara groaned. It was too early for drama. “What would another day in Loveless be without my morning dose of bad news? Go on, hit me.”

“Olson’s Hardware is cutting us off. No more trade for materials. He wants cash. No credit, just cash.”

“Well, he’s not the only hardware store in town. We’ll work with someone else.”

“I already tried Ace, Lowery’s, and Shop and Save. They all say the same thing. Cash in hand. No trade. No credit.”

Lara ran a hand through her hair, nearly getting it stuck in the thick tangles. A sprig of lavender caught in her fingers. She closed her fist around it before anyone could see it and question her. “Maybe we can get by with what we already have. Vader, can we?”

He shook his head. “No way. We still need shingles for the roof. Bunch of two by fours, one by sixes, not to mention screws, nails, hardware for the new windows—­”

She held up a hand. “Okay, okay, I get it. We need tons more stuff and no way to purchase it.”

All three fell silent.

“What shall we do, Lara?” Annabella asked.

Lara glanced longingly back at her bed. She knew what she
wanted
to do. Go back to bed. Better yet, go back to Patrick’s bed. Better yet, go back to a time when she didn’t have to worry about lumber and work trade and roofers.

She worried at her bottom lip. Something didn’t sound right here. The last time she’d seen Mr. Olson—­at the barbecue—­he’d been perfectly friendly.

The barbecue
. The same barbecue where Candy Callahan had decided to leave the ranch and stay at the Haven.

“Did Mr. Olson happen to mention why he didn’t want to continue the trade?”

Annabella gave one of her gracefully nonchalant shrugs. “No,
querida.
”

“Fine. I’ll make him tell me to my face.” She marched to her closet, which still held all her old clothes. For this mission, she needed just the right outfit.

“What are you doing, Lara?”

“I’ll tell you what I’m not doing.” She yanked out a pair of black pants from her dresser, then found a black jacket with that extra dominatrix flair. “I’m not going to let Big Dog get away with this.”

Suspicions confirmed, Lara
roared up the Callahan driveway—­well, as much as a fuel-­efficient Aveo could roar. A plume of exhaust would have been so satisfying. Instead the little white car scooted down the circular drive, delivering her smoothly to the front door. She mounted the stairs, her rage rising the closer she got to the source of all her problems.

When several loud bangs on the door got no response, she opened it and called, “Megan? Patrick? Anyone here?”

Megan came hurrying in from the back somewhere, iPod buds dangling from her ears. “Sorry, Lara. Come on in.”

“Is your father here?”

Megan looked wary. “In the barn, I think. Why?”

“I need to talk to him.” She turned on her heel and clattered down the steps to the yard. Megan dashed after her.

“Why? Lara, stop. I don’t think you should do that.”

“This is between me and him, Megan. You can pretend you never even saw me if you want.”

“Hey! I’m not that cowardly.”

Lara dashed across the yard to the old barn, which looked like it needed some major repairs. The big double door was not only open, but off its hinges. With Megan at her heels, she stormed inside. Dust motes sparkled in the hazy light that filtered through the cracks in the roof. Old pieces of farm equipment shared space with bales of hay, coils of rope, and old barrels. After a quick scan, she spotted Patrick’s father in a sort of den in the far corner of the barn. He lounged on a sway-­backed couch, his feet propped on a bale of hay, a cigar smoldering in an ashtray on his lap.

Big Dog scowled at the sight of her. “What are you doing here? A man’s home is his castle.”

Lara got right to the point. “I talked to Mr. Olson. You threatened him so he’d stop selling us lumber.”

A smug expression spread over Big Dog’s face. “This old dog still has a few tricks up his sleeve, eh?”

Lara clenched her fists and sternly told herself to keep her cool and not go straight from zero to shouting match. She forced her voice to sound calm. “Why are you doing this? Because Candy’s staying with us?”

“That’s
Mrs. Callahan
to trash like you.”

Lara felt her face go white. Big Dog had never wasted his charm on her, but he’d never been so blunt either.
Trash
. The word reverberated through her brain, throwing her off stride. “Your wife told me to call her Candy because she’s a nice lady. Everyone at the Haven loves her.”

Oops. Wrong move.

Big Dog snarled, literally snarled, like an actual dog. “Don’t mention that place in here.”

“Mr. Callahan.” Lara took a deep breath. “I know you’re upset about your wife . . . um, taking a little break. It’s understandable. Anyone would be. They teach workshops about it at the Haven . . .” Noticing the ruddy color in his cheeks, she decided to drop that angle. “Maybe you should use this time to appreciate your wife and what she means to you.”

Behind her, she heard Megan’s strangled snort.

“I’m using this time exactly how I want to.” Big Dog lumbered to his feet and loomed over her. “No hardware store in town will take your business. No roofer, no carpenter, no handyman, not even a Mexican day laborer will set foot on that piece of donkey-­crap land you got over there.”

Lara planted her feet as if she were leaning into a hurricane. That’s how it felt—­a blast of high-­decibel hostility coming at her in waves. “You’re trying to destroy the Haven, is that it? It won’t work. We can survive without lumber. The Haven is about the ­people, not the place.”

“You mean the whores!”

“Dad!” Megan gasped.

“They’re not whores,” said Lara through gritted teeth.
Don’t argue, don’t argue. He’s just trying to piss you off. And it’s working. Keep your cool. Stay logical.
“They help ­people. And right now they’re helping your wife and you should be grateful.”

Yikes. She was saying all the wrong things. She held her breath as Big Dog seemed to swell up like a rage-­filled helium balloon. “If I may, Mr. Callahan, I hope you’ve gotten your blood pressure checked, because judging by the vascularization I see on your skin, you could damage your heart if you keep on like this.”

He opened his mouth, snapped it shut, struggling with himself over something. Finally, the frightening scarlet tinge in his face subsided. He focused on her as if seeing her for the first time. “Who do you think you are, a doctor?”

“Well, yes. I am a doctor. I’m just finishing up my residency in the family medicine program at San Diego Hospital.”

He walked to a barrel that sat in the corner and plucked a long-­handled ladle off the wall. He lifted the lid and dipped the ladle inside. It came out filled with water, which he slurped. Lara squinted at the bits of hay floating on the surface. It didn’t look sanitary to her, but Big Dog wouldn’t appreciate her questioning
everything
.

“So you left that witch’s coven and went and made something of yourself.” He smacked his lips, sending a few drops of water flying.

“I wouldn’t phrase it exactly like that.”

He hung the ladle back on its hook, though it seemed to take him a few moments. “Then why don’t you go back to wherever you live and leave things in Loveless the way they are? You can start by leaving my sons alone.”

Lara startled. “Your
sons
?”

“You know what I’m talking about. I see the phone bills. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were seducing both of them.”

Lara’s mind reeled. Insult aside, this was important information. Big Dog was tracking Liam’s text messages. She made a mental note to warn Liam.

Taking a deep breath, she fought to regain her calm. “We’re getting off track here, Mr. Callahan. I came here to discuss the Haven, not my personal life.”

“It’s the same damn thing. They have my wife. You’ve got your claws into my son. I won’t stand for it.” Crimson flashed in his ruddy cheeks like a bullfighter’s cape.

“No claws are involved, I promise, Mr. Callahan,” Lara said, aiming for a soothing tone.

“Tell you what,” he trumpeted. “Let’s make a deal. Right here, right now. I’ll buy that place over there if you stop banging my son. It’ll be over soon no matter what. No Callahan would marry trash like you. Might as well get what you can before he gets rid of you.”

Megan’s sharply indrawn breath seemed to echo through the barn like a gunshot. It was a shot right through the heart, and Lara knew she’d feel the hurt later. For now, blood sang in her ears, and all caution fled like cobwebs before a broom.

Lara strode toward Big Dog until her nose was level with the buttons on his blue chambray shirt. “I wouldn’t sell the Haven to you if I was down to my last penny. No wonder your entire family’s bailing on you. First Patrick, then Liam . . .” Huge warning bells went off in her brain.
Stop. Stop now before you give away something about Liam.
“If you want to have any family members left, maybe you should try listening once in a while instead of blustering away like a big old whale.”

That speech wasn’t nearly satisfying enough. But tears were prickling the backs of her eyeballs, and she couldn’t let Big Dog see them.
No weakness
.
Never let them see they got to you.
She whirled around, nearly bumping into Megan. “Sorry,” she managed as she brushed past the girl and dashed out of the barn.

Trash like you
. All the humiliation she’d suffered while growing up in Loveless rushed back. All the snickering in the school hallways, the snide comments in the girls’ bathroom, the leers from idiotic boys who thought she might be “easy.” The tight-­mouthed looks of disapproval at the grocery store, the after-­school jobs no one offered her. Everything she’d fled was still with her.

Trash like you
.

It didn’t matter if she’d become a doctor. It didn’t matter if she hadn’t been back to the Haven in ten years. In Big Dog’s eyes she was . . . trash. And he didn’t want her sleeping with his son.

All of a sudden she felt dirty for doing exactly that. By having sex with Patrick, she’d confirmed Big Dog’s opinion of her. Why hadn’t she stuck to her comfort zone, to her pleasant, sex-­free existence? Getting involved with a Callahan had to be the worst mistake of her life.

But they weren’t “involved.” Not really. Nothing she couldn’t fix before it went too far.

Somehow she found herself at her little Aveo, though she didn’t remember her flight out of the barn. Hands trembling, she managed to open the door and slide into the driver’s seat. Tears blurred her vision. As she started the car, an image of the Goddesses, sitting around the low table with their ginger tea and votive candles, brought a flood of warmth. The Goddesses never judged her. They’d always accepted her, even at her teenage moodiest. Even when she was trying to sell their home out from under them. They might be many crazy things, but they were unconditionally loving and kind.

“Home, James,” she told her little rental car. And strangely enough, she kind of meant it.

Patrick caught no
more than a flash of white as Lara’s little car zoomed away from the ranch. He picked up his pace, jogging the rest of the way from the outer fields, where he’d been checking on the fire line along the road. Had Lara come to see him, then left when she couldn’t find him? He checked his cell phone, but he hadn’t missed any calls. Goldie trotted behind him, bleating in protest, as if to remind Patrick she wasn’t a damn gazelle.

Inside, a strange, shell-­shocked silence filled the house. His father was thumping around upstairs. Megan was nowhere to be seen.

Patrick dashed up the stairs. Without bothering to knock, he pushed open his father’s study door. The untidy state of the room gave him a shock. Piles of paper cluttered the corners. He spotted a crumb-­covered plate balanced on a windowsill. Red Sharpie markings dotted the map of Nevada that stretched across one wall.

Big Dog looked up from his desk, flashing his good-­mood smile.

“Good. You’re here. Ran off that hippie. Doubt she’ll be back.” He brushed his hands together.

“What are you talking about?”

“That Haven girl. Told her to stay away from my son. Whatever I said, it worked like a charm. She ran away like I set a fire hose on her. Not a bad idea, that.”