Flaming Crimes

by Chrys Fey

  “Oh yeah? What did I do in it? We could repeat it now.”

  She shook her head. “It wasn’t a dream like that.” She withdrew and peered into his eyes. “It wasn’t a good dream.”

  His brows lowered. He combed her hair from her face. “What was it about?”

  She couldn’t tell him while his violet gaze bore into her. She lowered onto him, laying her head on his chest. One of his hands embraced the back of her head. “It was about the moments that have scared me the most.” She paused. “Your car accident when we met, the concrete that nearly crushed you, the wave that could’ve killed us both, and now your monster truck falling and slamming into the ground.”

  Donovan took a deep breath that lifted up her head. “I’ve had dreams like that but about you.” His other hand stroked her back.

  “I’m afraid that one of these days, you’re not going to be so lucky.”

  Silence followed her words as Donovan registered what she meant. “I’m not going to leave you, Beth. I told you, I’m going to die an old man. I’ve already talked it over with Destiny. She gave me her word.”

  The corner of Beth’s mouth lifted.

  “And she promised me you won’t leave me too soon.”

  His words struck her. She propped herself up on her hands and stared down at him. What she saw in his eyes reminded her of her close encounters that have haunted him. She brought her lips to his and sank into his promise while offering him one in return.

  ****

  “So, what do you want for breakfast?” Donovan asked her later in the kitchen.

  “Oh no. The least I can do before we begin the day you planned is make you breakfast.” She pulled out a griddle. “How do blueberry and chocolate chip pancakes sound?”

  “Great.”

  She mixed fresh blueberries and semi-sweet chocolate chips into pancake batter and poured it onto the hot griddle. She made two large pancakes each and warmed maple syrup. On the table, she set down their plates and two cups of coffee. “Are you going to give me any hints on what we’re going to do today?” She cut a triangle out of her stacked pancakes, swiped them over the syrup on the plate, and forked them into her mouth.

  Donovan wagged his fork at her. “Not one.”

  She grumbled under her breath. “You sure know how to keep a secret.”

  He picked up his cup of coffee and peered at her through the steam. “That’s what makes me mysterious. Remember, it was my mystery that hooked you.” He winked at her.

  She swallowed pancake and pointed the prongs of her fork at him. “Correction. It was the mystery that made me suspicious of you. Do you remember that?”

  He squinted his eyes. “I vaguely recall you throwing a flashlight at me and trying to bash in my head with a candlestick holder.”

  She peered through the dining room—which they used for special occasions—at the gold candlestick holders in the middle of the mahogany table. “You mean that candlestick holder?”

  He rotated in his chair. “Yes.” He turned back around. “But it didn’t have a candle in it at the time.”

  She chuckled. “I believe you’re right about that.”

  They finished breakfast and moved upstairs. “Is there a dress code for this place you’re taking me?” She opened one of her dresser drawers and considered the contents—bras and panties. Donovan stepped up behind her.

  “All of those would work.”

  She nudged her elbow back, playfully hitting him in the gut.

  “Workout pants, a cotton T-shirt, and this will work.” He held up a workout bra by the straps.

  She snatched it from his fingers. “Okay. I’ll change. You—” She lightly jabbed him in the chest with her finger. “Stay away. I don’t want you to delay this with sex.” She headed to their bathroom.

  “But what if I—”

  She cut him off. “Nope.” Grinning, she shut the door.

  ****

  Donovan took her to batting cages. It wasn’t the surprise she had been expecting, but she could enjoy any sport with Donovan, including golf. He pulled two bats from the steel tool box in the back of his truck and handed one to Beth along with batting gloves. She slipped on the gloves and swung the bat over her shoulder.

  Donovan paused. “Damn. You even look sexy with a bat.”

  She winked at him. “Are you sure you can bat? You’re still bruised from your accident.”

  “Of course, I can. And I can do a lot more, too.” He winked back. “I thought smashing a few balls would help us relieve some stress.”

  Beth twisted her lips to stop her smirk. “You know what would really relieve my stress? Smashing the balls of the person who tried to hurt my husband.”

  Donovan broke into a wicked grin. “Come on, batter.”

  In a cage, Donovan set up the machine that would dispense the baseballs and demonstrated how it was done. His bat cracked into the first baseball the machine spat at him. It flew into the net and plopped to the floor.

  “Do you want to give it a try?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He stepped aside, and she took his place. She bent her knees, spaced out her hands, and slung the bat over her shoulder. She watched the machine, anticipating the release of the next ball. The ball made its way up. A whoosh sounded as it shot toward her. She saw it coming and swung her bat with all her might. The contact of the bat and the baseball colliding vibrated up her fingers to her shoulders.

  Donovan whistled. “If we were on a field, that would’ve resulted in a home run.”

  “I was imagining that was the perp’s first ball. And this next ball is his second one.” She wielded her bat like a weapon and slammed the ball out of the park—figuratively speaking.

  “I had no idea you were good at baseball,” Donovan said as he switched off the machine.

  She shrugged and put the bat across her shoulders. Her hands dangled off the ends. “I played softball for two years in high school. I was on the varsity team in ninth grade; the only freshmen girl in my school’s history to do that.”

  He tilted his head as he studied her. “Will you ever stop surprising me?”

  “I hope not.” A slow grin took over her face as she recalled her other school activities.

  “What?” Donovan asked.

  “In elementary school, I was part of the ping pong club.”

  Donovan chuckled at that.

  “I also ran track,” she added. “In middle school, I, uh, had a stint as a cheerleader.”

  Donovan blinked. “Really?”

  She nodded. “Seventh and eighth grades. The second year, I was co-captain.”

  “I hope you have pictures.”

  “I might.” She walked over to the ball dispenser. “You’re up.” She switched on the machine. It hummed to life. “And I can still perform the splits,” she added.

  Donovan’s body straightened out of his stance. His bat lowered. He gaped at her, and the ball sliced past him into the net. He flinched and peered behind him. When he looked back at her, she couldn’t mask her smirk. Got him. And he knew it, too. His eyes gleamed, and he slammed the next ball home.

  From behind him, Beth cocked her head to the side and admired the way his butt looked in his khaki pants. She bit her bottom lip. Who said women couldn’t appreciate a man’s backside? His body twisted as he hit another ball. Oh yeah. He resumed his position.

  “You’re staring at my ass, aren’t you?”

  While shaking her head, she sighed. “Guilty.”

  He laid into another ball. “Okay.” He faced her. “It’s your turn. I want a chance to ogle you.”

  “Hm.” She took his place. Her hands smoothed down her hair, and she flicked her ponytail with a slight shake of her head. She lowered, being sure to sway her hips from side to side, shaking her butt.

  Donovan’s laughter touched her ear. The corner of her mouth tilted up, and she sank her bat into the ball. She hit two more before trading off with Donovan. They played a couple more rounds, then went to get lunch
, which consisted of loaded hot dogs and jalapeno nachos.

  Beth finished her hot dog and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “That was a lot of fun. Just what we needed.”

  “I’m glad, but I still have plans.”

  “You always do.”

  His next event on her birthday agenda was an afternoon movie for two at home. On the couch, he put his arm around her, and they watched a new action movie. At the end, she followed Donovan into the kitchen to put her empty cup into the dishwasher.

  Donovan checked the time. “You should probably start getting ready so we can make our dinner reservation.”

  “Reservation?” Her interest piqued. “You’re not going to tell me where, are you?”

  “That would spoil the surprise.”

  “A reservation sounds fancy,” she said, wondering what she should wear.

  “Would you like me to pick out your dress?” he offered. “I can’t guarantee we’d make it in time for our reservation, though.”

  She smiled. “No, I think I can manage. Just as long as I don’t need diamonds.”

  “Baby, whatever you decide to wear will be perfect.”

  “Okay. I’ll go get ready.” She walked to the entrance of the kitchen but came to a stop as an idea came to light. Her foot lifted, and she glided the bottom of her sock over the smooth tile. This would work. Before her students came to her studio for classes, she liked to tumble over the mat and execute the flips and splits she had done as a cheerleader long ago. She only ever did it for fun and to stay flexible, but she’d do it for Donovan.

  She faced him. He was adding dish detergent to the cubby in the dishwasher’s door. She waited for him to close it and turn it on. “Donovan.”

  He turned.

  “Just one thing before I go.” She cleared her throat. Then she let her legs slide apart and her body sink to a perfect front split. Bending forward, she reached her hands down her right leg and rested her forehead on her thigh. She turned her head to Donovan. His eyes were wide. His mouth had fallen open, and his right hand supported him on the counter.

  Enjoying his reaction, she sat up, lifted slightly on the tile, and shifted her body so she was in a side split with both of her legs extending to the left and right of her torso. She held this pose a moment while watching Donovan. His mouth closed and opened again as if he wanted to say something. She rose and curled her legs under her so she could get to her feet.

  She shrugged a shoulder when Donovan’s amazed gaze met hers. “That’s all,” she said and left the kitchen, leaving Donovan behind in his stunned state.

  She showered, blow-dried her hair, curled the ends, and did her makeup. In their walk-in closet, she examined the few dresses she owned. She selected a hanger and pulled out a sky-blue sleeveless dress that went great with her tan. She slipped it up her body and zipped it as far as she could. The dress stopped just below her knees, showing off her toned calves. She slipped into the white heels she preferred with the dress and peered at herself in the full-length mirror. The dress showcased her nice arms and curves. Consequently, it also revealed every one of her scars. The pale scratch across her chest she could deal with, but not the one scar below her collar bone where new skin had grown over a hole.

  Sighing, she went back to her dresses and picked a red dress with a sweetheart neckline and two-inch straps. In front of the mirror, she held it up to her body and tilted her head. It was a pretty dress. She wore it on their first Valentine’s date as a couple. And she brought it out only for Valentine’s Day, as a tradition. It was the only dress she had with straps thick enough to cover her scar. Donovan liked it because the bodice formed to her and the short skirt swished around her hips, but the blue dress she had on was his all-time favorite. She lowered her arm, letting the skirt of the red dress puddled on the floor. The blue dress was like a second-skin with a slit up the side that she liked to tease Donovan with while crossing her legs.

  Since Donovan was doing all of this for her, she wanted to do something for him. She hung the red dress back in its place and resumed her position before the mirror. Her lips scrunched to the side as she glared at her scar. There was only one thing she could do. She arranged a few curls over her shoulder, placing them to cover the scar. But would it cover from the back? She twisted to peer over her shoulder at her reflection and jumped when she saw Donovan. He leaned against one shoulder at the entrance. His arms and ankles were crossed as he studied her. He wore gray dress pants and a black button up-shirt. He looked delicious.

  “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough.”

  She turned away. The entrance to the closet wasn’t visible in the mirror. Damn.

  The sound of movement came to her, and his refection appeared behind her. “Why do you do that?” he asked.

  “Do what?”

  His hand reached around and swept her hair off her shoulder. “That.”

  “Why do you think? To cover it.” She went to pull her hair back into place, but he brushed her hair onto her opposite shoulder. “Donovan.”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist, lowered his head, and trailed kisses from her neck and down along her shoulder. “You don’t need to hide anything,” he said. “Remember what I told you about this scar?” His finger followed the pale line across her chest.

  “Yes.” She swallowed. “You said that you think about…licking it all the time, but Donovan, this scar—” she pointed to her shoulder “—isn’t the same. This is from a gunshot wound that nearly took my life. It’s not a good memory. It’s ugly, and I hate it. There’s no way you can feel the same way about this scar.”

  He turned her around, cupped her face with his hands, and drew her into a tender kiss.

  When he eased back, his heart was in his eyes. “I love every inch, every millimeter, of your body, including this scar.” He pressed his lips to it.

  Tears bit the backs of Beth’s eyes. The warmth of his lips seeped into her scar, into her heart. The scar was a part of her now, and Donovan had accepted it. She believed him when he said he loved everything about her, even the parts of herself she hated.

  “This scar is a part of you now. Please don’t hide it…not from me.” He kissed her again.

  This one was longer, deeper. He cradled the back of her head with one hand while the other hand drew her closer, so their bodies molded. She clutched his shoulders. Their tongues glided and tasted. Their lips sucked and enjoyed. Her head began to spin as if she was intoxicated, drunk on his kiss.

  He pulled away but not completely. He continued to touch her lips with his feather-light kisses. When he moved his lips out of reach, he maneuvered her hair off her shoulder so it lay against her back. Then he took a step back and scanned her from head to toe.

  “This is the woman I love. Every part of her.” His gaze met hers. “Don’t hide even the smallest fraction from me. Please.”

  She lowered her head and took a shuttering breath. Her chest ached from his tenderness. She hadn’t known she was hurting him by concealing her scars. But she understood how he felt. If he tried to shroud a part of him from her, she’d be heartbroken, too.

  She looked back at him and shook her head. “I won’t. Not anymore.”

  He picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to it. “Thank you.” With his other hand, he stroked her cheek. “Are you ready?”

  She pressed her hand to his. “I will be once you zip my dress up the rest of the way.”

  Chapter Ten

  Donovan took Beth’s hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm. She laughed at the gesture. He led her into an elegant restaurant and told the maître d’ the info for their reservation. She checked her tablet. “Great. Right this way.” She took them to a table with a white tablecloth and flickering candles that floated in a crystal dish of water. Donovan pulled out the chair for Beth. As she sat down and crossed her legs, the slit in her dress parted to expose her smooth thigh. His abdomen clenched. He hadn’t forgotten about the super sexy splits she had p
erformed in their kitchen. When he took his chair, the maître d’ handed them the menus, and then he went back to the front desk.

  “Donovan.” Beth clutched the menu in her hands. “This place is very…”

  “I know, just don’t look at the prices. Get what you want.” He detected a hint of anxiety in her stiff posture. She opened the menu, and her eyes widened. Telling her not to look at the prices was equivalent to telling someone afraid of heights not to look down, he realized. He reached across the table to take her menu. “I can order for you.”

  “No. No, I’ll find something.” She resumed studying the options. Amused, Donovan saw the whites of her eyes get bigger, and her cheeks become pinker. He knew she was trying to find the cheapest entrée and wasn’t having much luck.

  “Beth, I know what you like. I can order for you.”

  She looked at him. “Normally, I’d hate someone ordering for me, but you’ve been doing such an amazing job all day that I’ll let you order for me this once.” She set aside her menu with visible relief on her face. The pink of her cheeks faded, and her eyebrows lowered.

  He glanced over his menu. The waiter approached the moment he set his menu aside. “The lobster linguini for my wife, and the halibut for me.”

  “Very good. Would you like to see the wine list?”

  “Yes, thank you.” He scanned the wines and discreetly pointed to a price. “We’ll have your recommended wine pairing.” Donovan didn’t know much about wine, but his mother had taught him well, hoping he’d find a girl worth her lessons. And he had.

  The waiter nodded and left with their menus tucked under his arm.

  “Donovan, you know I would’ve been happy with something simple,” Beth said under her breath.

  “I know. You’re easy to please, which is one of the things I love about you. You indulge by buying a bag of French fries.” He smiled. “But I like to do things like this for you. I don’t get to do it often.” He reached across the table and took her hand. His thumb rubbed her knuckles. “Let me spoil my wife.”