Hot Attraction

by Lisa Childs

  And so scared she could barely think. She stepped back from the sliders, already able to feel the heat through the glass. There had to be another way out.

  The one end of the house had already been damaged; the window was still boarded up. So she turned toward the other. But before she opened the bedroom door, she felt it—felt the heat against it.

  The fire had already made it through the outside wall—was already inside the room where she’d been sleeping—where she’d made love with Dawson in the creaky antique bed.

  Coughing and sputtering, she backed away from it. She needed to get down on the ground again—needed to try to find fresh air. But with the smoke billowing under the front door, there was no breathable air down there.

  She screamed again. Not that anyone would hear her. The neighbors were too far away. And the fire was getting loud. Glass tinkled as it began to break. Then there was a louder crack and a blade cut through the side of the house.

  Wood splintered then broke down as the ax continued to chop its way through the wall. Finally there was a hole big enough for a man to step inside—his face was black from smoke. But his eyes were light—glittering amber.

  She ran for the opening and flung her arms around his neck. “You’re alive.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her out. He didn’t speak. He just carried her halfway down the driveway to where the US Forest Service truck was parked.

  Was he alive? Or was she only imagining that he’d come to her rescue? She reached out and touched his soot-covered jaw. It was so hard beneath her fingertips and rough with stubble.

  “Are you alive?” she asked.

  He glanced down at her in surprise—as if he thought she’d lost her mind. “Yes, I’m alive.”

  “Then who was hurt?”

  His brow furrowed as he stared down at her.

  “The news reported that a Hotshot had been critically injured,” she said. “Who was it? Cody? Wyatt?” Not Wyatt. Fiona would be devastated. She couldn’t have lost her fiancé.

  He shook his head and assured her, “The rest of the team is fine.”

  “It was you!” she exclaimed. She blinked the smoke tears from her eyes and focused on him.

  “I’m fine,” he assured her. “Nobody was injured.”

  “But the news…”

  “Got it wrong,” he told her.

  “But there was a source…” Her gaze met his as they both realized who that source was: the arsonist.

  Had he wanted everyone to believe he’d killed a Hotshot or just her? Had he wanted her devastated before he killed her, too?

  *

  DAWSON CARRIED AVERY’S wriggling body through the door of his cabin. “I can walk,” she protested. “The doctor said I’m fine.”

  He’d taken her to the ER to have her checked for smoke inhalation. She hadn’t suffered any physical side effects. But Dawson worried about the emotional damage.

  Maybe that was more his than hers, though. He’d heard her screaming inside that burning cottage. He’d heard the terror in her voice; it had echoed the terror in his heart. He’d never swung an ax as fast or hard as he had at the side of her house.

  If the ax hadn’t been in the truck, he might have torn the structure apart with his bare hands to get to her. That was why he carried her—because he didn’t want to let her go. Even though he knew that he would have to…

  He forced his arms to release her as he set her on her feet and stepped back. “I shouldn’t have brought you here,” he said.

  She glanced outside his window. “The fire wasn’t in this area, though.”

  No. It had been at the other end of the forest, where it had destroyed Cody’s cabin.

  “We should be safe here,” she said.

  Dawson shook his head. “I doubt you’re going to be safe anyplace until we catch the arsonist.”

  She shivered. But she knew it. That was why she’d refused to go home with her distraught sister. Kim had wanted her to stay with them. She’d been upset that Avery had been left alone again.

  But every firefighter and police officer had been needed to contain the forest fire. Was that why the arsonist had started it? Not just for the attention but also for the distraction?

  While everyone had been focused on the fire, he’d gone after Avery again. And he’d almost succeeded this time.

  “Was there a note?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Not that I saw.” But the place had gone up fast. Unlike the previous fire, this one had done substantial damage. Her little cottage was a total loss. “But I think he knew you’d get his message even if he didn’t leave it in writing.”

  She shivered again. “He wants me dead.”

  Dawson couldn’t leave her standing there—cold and scared. He wrapped his arms around her.

  Her breath shuddered out against his throat. “This is what I need,” she murmured. “You to hold me.”

  There was nothing he wanted more. Well, there was one thing: her safety.

  “You need to do it,” he said.

  She reached for his zipper, tugging it down. But he caught her hand. “Not that…” But he wanted her. He needed her—because he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be with her again.

  “You need to do a story about him, or at least say the fires are the work of an arsonist,” Dawson said. “It’s the only way to stop him.”

  She gasped. “Superintendent Zimmer thinks it’ll make him more dangerous.”

  “He couldn’t be much more dangerous,” he said. Unless he killed her. And that couldn’t happen.

  “I can’t take that risk,” she said.

  “I will,” he said. “If you won’t do it, I’ll give the story to another reporter.”

  She snorted. “Which one? Clay may not have a job after reporting a lie.”

  Zimmer had interrogated the young reporter, who’d admitted no one at the firehouse had told him the Hotshots were trapped in the blaze. He’d received a call instead, which they later learned had come from a payphone near the firehouse. Anyone could have made that call. Clay hadn’t even been able to say if the voice had been male or female.

  Dawson threatened her with, “I’ll give the story to that hot brunette who works for the station out of Detroit.”

  She tensed. “Caitlin Clark—my replacement?”

  “Does she have long legs and a tight—”

  She smacked his shoulder. “Dawson!”

  “You don’t think you’re the only hot reporter, do you?” he teased.

  “I thought you hated reporters.”

  “Most of them,” he said. “But there’s one…” One he’d actually fallen in love with. He loved Avery Kincaid. That was why he would do anything to keep her alive.

  “Caitlin Clark?” Her chin lifted with pride and something flashed through her turquoise eyes, making them look greener: jealousy.

  He nearly laughed. But he needed to make his point first.

  “I have better legs,” she said haughtily.

  He knew it. “Prove it,” he said.

  She reached for the button of her jeans. But he caught her hand. If she undressed now, he’d lose his focus. He had to get her to agree to report the story.

  “Get cleaned up and get into one of your skintight dresses and go report the hell out of this story,” he urged her. “Your crew is here. You need to do this.”

  “But Superintendent Zimmer—”

  “Agrees with me,” Dawson said. Before they’d gotten it under control, the fire had nearly consumed them. They were in danger and so was the town. Everyone had to be warned that there was an arsonist on the loose. And not giving him any attention had only made him more dangerous. Maybe if they gave him what he wanted he’d get cocky, slip up and reveal himself.

  She released a shaky breath. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

  He picked her up.

  “Are you taking me to the firehouse?” she asked.

  But he didn’t head toward the front door. He headed toward the bathroo
m. “After you get cleaned up,” he said. After he made love to her…

  His bathroom was small—barely enough room for two. He held her while he leaned in and turned on the shower. She shrieked when some of the cold spray struck her.

  She wriggled and slid down his body. But there was no room for her to back away from him. She was flush against his front—against his straining erection. He pulled off her shirt and shoved down her pants. Then he undressed, too, dropping his soot-saturated clothes atop hers.

  She drew in a shaky breath. She skimmed her fingertips across this chest. “The smoke got through your clothes.”

  He traced a circle across her breast. “Yours, too.”

  If he hadn’t gotten to her when he had…

  He shuddered to think what would have happened to her—how tragically he would have lost her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into the shower with him. The warm spray stung his back—while he focused on her front. He soaped up his hands and slid them over her body, washing away the soot. Leaving her golden skin clean and silky again…

  She took the soap from him, and he reached for the shampoo, squirting a liberal glob into her hair. As the suds washed out, so did the smoke, streaking over her body to disappear down the drain beneath his feet.

  He tensed as her soapy hands ran over his body. She started at his shoulders then skimmed her palms down his arms before coming back for his chest. After soaping up his muscles, she moved her hands lower—across his abs—to his straining erection. She wrapped both hands around him, sliding them up and down.

  A groan tore from his throat. She was so damn passionate. So generous. But he wanted to please her, too. So he gritted his teeth and focused on her again. He moved his hands over her breasts. He cupped them in his palms while he teased the nipples with his thumbs.

  She moaned and arched into him. So he lifted her high enough that she could slide down onto his erection. He braced his back against the shower and thrust up, filling her.

  She pressed her mouth to his shoulder, kissing his skin before nipping gently at it. He didn’t know if she was holding in a cry of pleasure or something else—something she wanted to say.

  He wanted to say it, too. He wanted to declare his love. But he couldn’t give her that burden—he couldn’t ask her to stay. No matter what she said Northern Lakes wasn’t home.

  She bucked, riding him as he thrust. They matched their rhythm as they had so many times before—moving in sync. She came first, though, her orgasm shuddering through her and flowing over him.

  And despite her efforts to hold it in, a scream slipped out between her lips. Then he pulled out—just in time. He yelled her name as he came. But he held back the rest. He held in the I love you.

  Because there was no point in telling her how he felt when they had no future. She had to go back to Chicago. And he had to catch the arsonist.

  21

  FROM HER APARTMENT, Avery could catch a glimpse of Lake Michigan—if she angled her neck and peered between two other buildings. It wasn’t like the view from the deck of her cottage over the lake just feet away.

  But the deck was gone. So was the cottage.

  So was she.

  She’d come back to Chicago. To her job. And to job offers from other markets after the story she’d broken. She’d reported the real cause of the Northern Lakes fire. And for the first time, she’d made herself part of the story. She’d reported how the arsonist had threatened and tried to kill her because he wanted attention. And she’d talked again about the heroism of the Hotshot who hadn’t just saved her nephews, but her, as well.

  She should have been thrilled with all the opportunities the story had opened for her. She wouldn’t have to worry about getting airtime anymore. Her career had never been as promising as it was now.

  But she sat alone in her apartment. She didn’t feel like celebrating—not when she couldn’t be with the people she loved.

  She placed a call and held out her cell phone, watching the screen as she waited. Finally a voice emanated from the speaker.

  “Hey, Babs,” Kim greeted her. “Didn’t think you’d have time for us little people anymore.”

  Her heart ached with missing the little people. And one very big, sexy person.

  “Babs?” she asked.

  “Everyone in Northern Lakes is comparing you to Barbara Walters,” Kim said. “And Oprah.”

  She laughed as she imagined the old guys down at the coffee shop talking about her.

  “It’s not just people in Northern Lakes, though,” Kim said. “Other networks aired your story, too.”

  The news was partly why she’d called. Dawson and the Huron Hotshots had been sent out West to battle a never-ending blaze—the one that had already claimed the life of one Hotshot. Arson hadn’t started it, Mother Nature had.

  “Speaking of news,” she said, “have you heard any about the Hotshots?”

  “About all of them?” Kim asked. “Or one in particular?”

  Avery expelled a ragged sigh. “Okay, I’m worried about Dawson. He never had a break before they sent him out again.” He’d never had a chance to recover—or to see her again after that night they’d made love in his shower. Her body ached for his. But her heart ached even more.

  “He’s tough,” Kim assured her. “He’ll survive and come back stronger than ever.”

  She knew Kim was right. Dawson was the strongest man she knew. He would survive. But would she survive missing him?

  “I don’t know how you do this,” Avery said. “With Rick being gone so much…”

  “I’m not so pathetic anymore?” Kim asked.

  “I never said you were.”

  “You’ve thought it,” Kim said. “I’ve seen it on your face.”

  “Nobody sees anything on my face,” Avery said defensively. “I’m a reporter. I never give away my personal feelings.”

  Kim laughed. “That feature you did on Dawson gave away your feelings. You gave them away even more when you reported how he’d saved you from the arsonist. You love him.”

  “I…” Couldn’t deny it. “I never said you were pathetic. I never thought it, either.”

  “But you didn’t understand how I could be happy marrying young and having a family,” Kim said.

  “I didn’t understand because I never felt what you feel for Rick,” Avery said.

  “Now you do.”

  She felt it now. She loved Dawson Hess.

  “But how are you happy with Rick?” Avery wondered. “When you’re apart so much?” It had only been a week and she couldn’t handle it—couldn’t focus on her job, on anything but how badly she missed Dawson.

  “Missing someone is easier when you know for certain they’re coming home,” Kim explained. “And when he gets home, we make up for that time apart…”

  Avery could sense Kim’s sexy smile through the phone. And finally she understood why her sister was so happy. She didn’t have Rick all the time, but she had it all with him. The love. The commitment. And the passion.

  “What about you?” Kim asked. “When are you coming home?”

  She sighed. “I didn’t get any job offers in Northern Lakes.” Because they didn’t even have their own television station. But the ones she’d wanted from New York and LA had come in—along with so many others.

  “I didn’t say you needed to come home to stay,” Kim said. “I know that wouldn’t work for you. But you could do what Rick does. He’s gone for a week and then comes home for a few days. You don’t mind flying. You could work anywhere and still come home to Northern Lakes. To Dawson…”

  But did Dawson want her coming home to him? They’d had an incredible week together. But she’d also driven him crazy with her questions, with exposing his life in that special feature. He hated reporters. And while she knew he didn’t hate her, she didn’t know if he loved her—the way she loved him.

  *

  SHE’D GOTTEN HER STORY. It was all she’d wanted. He hadn’t heard from her
since she’d returned to Chicago. Not a phone call. Or a text or email.

  Plenty of other women had contacted him—through the firehouse—since that feature had aired.

  They wanted to meet him. Wanted to make him dinner. Take him to bed.

  His body ached for release. But there was only one woman he wanted.

  Something hard jabbed his leg. He glanced down to see the end of the barbell pushing against it. He was supposed to be spotting Cody. “Need help?” he asked.

  Cody easily shoved the barbell up. “Lucky for me I didn’t. I’d be choked to death under the bar with you spotting me.”

  “Sorry,” he said. Out West he’d forced himself to focus on the job. But now that they were back in Northern Lakes, he couldn’t stop thinking about Avery. She was everywhere—even while she was really hundreds of miles away.

  Everyone talked about her, about that amazing Avery Kincaid. If the arsonist had intended to get attention from her broadcast, he had to be disappointed. She was the one who’d gotten all the attention. Well, not all the attention.

  He had all those offers from random women. Even a few men…

  So why had nothing happened since Avery left? Was she the arsonist’s total focus now—as she was Dawson’s? The whole time they’d been out West they’d been worrying, but Northern Lakes was safe. Was Avery?

  “You’re pathetic,” Cody said with a snort of disgust.

  Dawson had just bench-pressed more than the younger guy had. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Cody shook his head. “Can’t believe you and Wyatt—falling like schmucks for these hot chicks.”

  He wanted to deny it, wanted to claim he hadn’t fallen. But he would never lie to one of the crew. He might keep something from them. But he wouldn’t lie.

  “I’m sick of you moping around here,” Cody said.

  “We only just got back to Northern Lakes,” Dawson reminded him.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Braden chimed in.

  Dawson hadn’t even been aware that their boss had joined them in the workout room.

  Zimmer continued, “You shouldn’t be in Northern Lakes right now.”

  Dawson had been so worried about Avery that he’d been oblivious to what was going on in his own life. Had something changed? The tension in his body spread to his head, making it pound.