Читать книгу Hot Attraction - Lisa Childs, Lisa Childs, Livia Reasoner - Страница 12

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“YOU’RE WELCOME...” AVERY murmured as she walked back into her sister’s kitchen. Her legs had regained their strength; maybe she’d just imagined going weak-kneed from that kiss. But she couldn’t deny that her lips were tingling, that her skin was still hot. Even now—hours later.

After the Filling Station, she had stopped back at her house and changed from her heels and dress into tennis shoes and shorts. She’d thought about running but her legs hadn’t totally recovered until she’d walked over to her sister’s.

A few years ago she’d bought a cottage just around the corner from her sister’s ranch house. Kim’s place was perfect for her family, with several acres for the boys to run, a wide front porch and a big country kitchen.

“I didn’t thank you,” Kim said, her brow furrowing in confusion as she looked up from washing dishes in the farmhouse sink. She studied Avery’s face and smiled, amusement twinkling in her eyes. “You look a little flustered.”

Avery opened the refrigerator—not for anything to drink but because she needed a blast of cool air on her face. Not wanting to let her sister know how right she was, though, she pulled out a water bottle, barely resisting the urge to press it against her cheek.

“Did you do it?” Kim asked. “Did you actually give that Hotshot firefighter a thank-you kiss?”

“I didn’t kiss him,” she said, which was technically true since he hadn’t given her the chance. He’d kissed her, instead. And what a kiss...

“Denied again?” Her sister gave her a pitying glance. “You must be losing your touch.”

She was more worried that she’d lost her focus. She’d let Dawson Hess and his wicked kiss distract her. She hadn’t gotten him to agree to the special feature, and she hadn’t gotten any more information out of him about the fire.

Was there anything else to learn, though? Maybe it had just been a random wildfire—but it had started so early in the season...

Too early.

She remembered how the Hotshots had looked when she’d found them in that back booth—their heads bent together, tension on their faces. Something else was going on—something they didn’t want the public to learn.

She hadn’t become a reporter just because she’d wanted to get out of Northern Lakes. She’d become a reporter because she liked digging until she discovered the truth. She believed the public had a right to know. Apparently the Hotshots didn’t care about keeping the public informed.

That irritated Avery nearly as much as Dawson Hess’s little comment after he’d kissed her senseless. You’re welcome...

But he hadn’t given her the chance to thank him. Or to question him...

“I’m not losing my touch,” she replied, but in reference to the story, not the man. Dawson Hess was part of that story, though, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Why didn’t he want to admit it?

She hadn’t met a man yet who didn’t want to brag about his accomplishments. And Dawson had more reason than most to brag. Was it himself he didn’t want the attention drawn to, or the fire?

If someone didn’t want to talk to the press, it was usually because they had something to hide.

What was Dawson Hess hiding?

Kim sighed and murmured. “Uh-oh...”

Avery blinked and focused on her sister again. “What?”

“You have that look...” She shook her head.

“What look?”

“That scary determined look you get when you’re after a story.” Kim shuddered, as if in fear. “I feel sorry for whoever tries to get in your way.”

Dawson Hess was the one who should be afraid. He had gotten in her way—denying her the feature, denying her the truth. The only thing he hadn’t denied her was the kiss. But instead of letting her kiss him, he’d kissed her.

Clearly he was used to being in control. But nobody controlled Avery Kincaid. She would get what she was after—the story.

But was she fooling herself that the story was all she wanted?

* * *

DAWSON HAD SPENT the afternoon hoping for a fire call—nothing catastrophic, just a small campfire, a car fire, a big bonfire...

Anything that would have given him an excuse to put off his new assignment. But no call had come in to the Northern Lakes fire station. And there was nothing big enough happening anywhere else in the country that required the Huron Hotshots. Other crews were on the fires out West. Maybe the Hurons would eventually be needed to relieve teams that had been on the job too long.

But tonight he had no excuse.

So he crossed Rick and Kim Pritchard’s porch to the front door. It stood open, allowing the evening breeze to blow through the screen door. Voices drifted outside through the mesh.

She was here.

Since he usually avoided the news, he hadn’t heard her voice that much until the afternoon at the Filling Station. But it was clear and full and grabbed one’s attention, making him want to listen to her, want to believe her. But Dawson knew better than to trust a reporter. She wasn’t really interested in him—in doing a special feature about him or kissing him. All she wanted was information about the fire.

And he wanted to know why...

Had the arsonist contacted her?

“I met Dawson today,” she said.

At the sound of his name on her lips—the luscious lips he’d so enjoyed kissing—his body tensed.

“Dawson?” a young voice repeated. “The Hotshot who saved us? He’s not busy fighting another fire?”

“He wasn’t today,” she replied.

“Maybe he’ll come by and see us,” the young voice said. “He said he would when he wasn’t busy.”

Guilt flashed through Dawson. He’d made that promise to them, just as he’d promised they would survive the fire. At least he’d kept the most important of his promises...

He had been busy, though—with the fires out West and with trying to determine who’d set the one in Northern Lakes. All of the Huron Hotshots had been on edge, waiting for the arsonist to strike again. They needed to stop him before that happened—before lives were lost.

He lifted his hand and knocked on the frame of the screen door. It rattled in the jamb.

“Someone’s here,” one of the twins said.

“Were you expecting anyone?” Avery asked, and her voice grew louder as she walked across the foyer to the door.

He’d thought she was hot before—in that blue dress. But in shorts and a tank top, the woman was nearly lethal. Her legs were even longer than he’d thought, her breasts even fuller. What would she look like in nothing at all?

His body hardened at the thought of finding out, and he barely managed to suppress a groan. Hotshots were on the front line of the fire, facing it head-on, so he was used to putting himself in danger. But he suspected he’d never been in as much danger as he was now—with Avery Kincaid.

Through the mesh her gaze met his, and her eyes widened in surprise.

“You weren’t expecting me,” he surmised.

She pushed open the screen door and uttered a small sigh—almost as if she were disappointed.

Hadn’t she been as into that kiss as he’d been? Or had those little moans just been an act, a way to seduce him into an interview? Even though he’d suspected as much, she wasn’t the only one who was disappointed now.

“I should have been expecting you,” she said. “Men usually don’t turn down—”

“Your kisses?” he interrupted. “So you were lying about getting turned down already today?”

“No,” she said. “But I wasn’t talking about my kisses—”

“Yuck,” one of the boys said as he joined his aunt at the front door. “Hey, Dawson!”

“Dawson!” the other boy exclaimed as he rushed out from whatever room was off the foyer—probably a living room.

Dawson released the breath he’d been holding over visiting them. He hadn’t known how they’d react—if seeing him again would bring the nightmare back for them. But they seemed genuinely happy to see him.

“Is she trying to kiss you, too?” the first boy asked.

A grin tugged at the corners of Dawson’s mouth. Now he knew who’d rejected her kisses earlier. Of course it hadn’t been a man. No red-blooded adult male would have been able to turn her down; he hadn’t been able to and he usually had enough self-control to resist temptation. He couldn’t believe he was actually attracted to a reporter. But after that kiss, he couldn’t deny the attraction was there—burning hot—making him want to kiss her again.

“Tell your mother Mr. Hess is here,” Avery told the boys.

One of them ran off to do her bidding while the other lingered.

“You, too,” she said.

“It doesn’t take both of us to tell her,” he argued petulantly.

Dawson chuckled and wriggled his eyebrows at the boy. “I think your aunt wants to be alone with me,” he said.

“Ewww,” the kid said. “Don’t let her kiss you!” As he turned to run away, Avery swatted his backside.

Dawson waited until the kid disappeared down the hall before asking, “Should I tell him his warning came too late?”

She glared at him. “You kissed me.”

Yes, he had. And he wanted to kiss her again. Unlike last time, he resisted the temptation. He had to keep a clear head around her, had to focus on finding out what she knew without giving away anything he knew.

“It was your idea,” he reminded her.

“Of a thank-you,” she said. “You must have decided to take me up on my other offer.”

“Offer?” Had she offered more than a kiss? Maybe that was what her moans had implied. That might be more temptation than he could resist.

“Of the special feature,” she clarified. “That’s why you’re here, right. You decided you wanted your fifteen minutes of fame.”

Was that why she had seemed disappointed?

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” he said. “To do a story about me.” He had no intention of letting her do one, but he was curious why she seemed to have changed her mind.

She drew in a quick breath and nodded. “Of course. That’s what I want—to tell the real story of the fire.”

Real story? As usual, Superintendent Zimmer had been right. She definitely knew more than they’d released to the media. How?

Dawson would have to find out—without giving anything away himself. It was a hell of a fine line to walk, but working a fire was like that, getting close enough to set up a break but not so close that the fire consumed you. Maybe that was the key to handling Avery Kincaid. He had to treat her like a fire. Try to contain her without being consumed by whatever was happening between them.

“Wyatt Andrews risked his life to save those campers,” he said. “That’s the real story.”

“So you’re not here because you changed your mind about the special feature?” she asked.

He shook his head.

Her beautiful eyes narrowed. “Then why are you here?”

Remembering what he’d heard through the screen door, he replied, “To see your nephews. I promised I’d come by when I wasn’t busy.”

Her eyes narrowed even more, and she opened her mouth. But she didn’t get a chance to speak before the boys were back with their mother close behind. He should have come by sooner to visit the twins. It was good to see them like this—happy and carefree. Not as they’d been that day when he’d zipped them into the shelter with him. Then they’d been shaking uncontrollably, overwhelmed with fear.

“Mr. Hess,” Kim Pritchard said. “Have you eaten? I’m just putting dinner away but I’d be happy to fix you a plate. There are plenty of leftovers.”

“I ate at the firehouse,” he said. “But thank you.”

“There’s dessert,” one of the boys said. “Peach pie.”

“Peach pie,” Dawson repeated with longing. “My favorite.”

Their mother smiled. “I’ll get you a piece,” she offered.

But he shook his head. “I’d love to, but we try to watch what we eat during the fire season. We have to stay in shape.” Their lives depended on it.

Her face flushed. “Then I should probably stop bringing brownies by the fire station.”

“Don’t do that,” he said. “Your brownies are very much appreciated.” Some of the young guys could and did eat anything. Cody, for one, would kill him if he shut off their baked-goods supply.

Her face flushed a brighter red. “It’s the least I can do to thank you,” she said. “For saving them...” She wrapped an arm around each of her sons, squeezing them tight.

No matter how many weeks had passed, she apparently hadn’t recovered yet from the nightmare of nearly losing her children. Her pain strengthened Dawson’s resolve to find the arsonist—to see him punished for the damage he’d done and to stop him before he caused any more damage.

“Mom,” one of the twins protested as he wriggled away from her. The other one leaned into her, though. He hadn’t necessarily recovered, either.

“Dawson, do you want to see the Boy Scout badge we got for surviving the fire?” Kade asked.

At least he assumed it was Kade. During the fire Kade had tried the hardest to fight his tears. He’d succumbed, but it had bothered him more to not appear tough, as he’d thought he needed to be for his brother. Ian was younger than Kade was—by a mere five minutes.

Before Dawson could reply, hands wrapped tightly around his and he was tugged down a hallway by not just Kade, but Ian, too. They showed him every badge they’d earned in Boy Scouts along with every other memento of their young lives. And they did seem very young—younger than he’d been at twelve. He felt as if they’d brought him to show-and-tell; they showed him everything in their shared bedroom. Apparently their father traveled a lot and brought them back something from every city he visited.

He’d visited a lot of cities.

Dawson had expected Avery to follow them. But when he glanced at the doorway, only their mother stood there. Finally he managed to escape, after promising to take them camping later that week. When he walked back down the hall to the foyer, he discovered Avery was gone.

Kim followed him—probably to show him out. When she caught him looking around the living room, she uttered an almost pitying sigh as she told him, “Avery left.”

“I see that.”

Why? If she really wanted that special feature...

Kim seemed puzzled, as well. She glanced at the front door as if she expected her sister to step back through it.

Why had Avery left so abruptly? She’d said she wanted the real story of the fire. Dawson suspected that was actually why she wanted to interview him. But maybe she had another source. And what better source than the arsonist himself? Braden Zimmer could be right. Again. The man had excellent instincts when it came to his job; too bad he hadn’t had them when it came to his personal life.

Dawson wouldn’t make the mistake his boss had. He wasn’t going to risk his heart on any relationship—especially one with a reporter.

Reporters rarely revealed their sources, but if the sisters were close, Avery might have confided in her. Maybe Kim knew whether or not the arsonist had contacted her.

“Did she have to rush off to meet someone?” he asked.

Kim’s brow furrowed and she asked him, “Who would she be meeting here in Northern Lakes?”

“A man?” Arsonists were usually male.

Kim laughed. “You’re the only man I thought she was interested in meeting.”

“For a story,” he said.

But Kim’s eyes—so much like her sister’s—narrowed speculatively. “I’m not so sure that’s the only reason she’s interested in you...” Then her face flushed a bright red as she realized what she’d revealed.

Dawson laughed. Avery wasn’t really interested in him, only what information she could get from him.

But if she was attracted to him, Dawson wasn’t certain he’d be able to resist her. Because he was so damn attracted to her, too.