Playing With Fire (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Reina Torres

  A muscle ticked in his jaw and she felt his fingers digging into her shoulders. It wasn't painful, but it pulled her closer. Before she could move away his lips covered hers.

  It should have been a cold splash of water, bringing her back to her senses. Instead she pressed closer, her hands grasping at his shirt, pulling. She fought him for control, rising up on her toes until he straightened up and they were pressed tight from their knees to their ribs.

  There was no missing the hard line of his body pressing against the cradle of her hips.

  Leave. Move. Walk away.

  The words were clear in her head, but the heat building between them made it impossible to do anything but hold on tighter.

  The blaring scream of the alarm, pulled them apart. Finley stepped back, bringing the back of her hand to her lips to touch the bruised flesh.

  The second round of the siren pushed Roman to the door. “I’ll call you later.” She didn't answer, couldn't with her heart pounding and her breath stuck in her lungs. She barely heard the sounds of men rushing through the halls toward the engine bay. The last thing she heard before she collapsed in a chair was Roman’s voice in the hall. “Get your clothes on McGuire. You can audition for Chippendales later.”

  Oh god, that was the biggest mistake… ever.

  Chapter Five

  It was unnerving really. Standing in front of Roman’s home took her back years. The whole reason she had met Roman was the fact that his house looked just like hers. Left to entertain herself as she nearly always was, Finley had wandered off through the winding streets of her neighborhood and far from home. Weary from wandering, she'd seen this house in the distance and headed straight for it. The door had been locked and no one had answered when she knocked. Too tired to do more than walk a few more steps, she'd curled up on the porch swing and fallen asleep.

  She woke up to a hand on her shoulder. A soft voice full of concern. Blinking away her nap, she was eye to eye with a boy, his eyes nearly hidden by a shock of long dark bangs, but what she could see was filled with concern and kindness.

  The swing still hung from the eaves over the porch, the planters were gone, taking with them their brightly colored flowers, but the yard was a far cry from her own blanket of crab grass. Green bushes with hints of color lined the walkway and fenced in the house.

  Their odd parting at the fire station that morning should have been enough for her to stay away, but the strange pulse of blood was still thrumming through her veins. She needed to put things to rest.

  But then she turned into a coward, a twinge of breathless fear in her chest. Looking back, she wondered if she could make it back to the curb before she was seen.

  The door behind her swung open. “Finley?”

  Yep, that settled it. She had the worst luck in the world.

  She plastered a smile on her face and turned back around. “Hey, Roman.” She took another step forward and let out a breath. “Sorry I didn't call first.”

  “You don't have to call. You've always been welcome here.” He stepped out and wiped his hands on a towel. “I was just getting dinner started. Come in.”

  She looked back at her car and then at the door. "We can talk here."

  “Finley, come inside.” There was more than a hint of exasperation in his voice, but he was still smiling at her. “I'm hungry. We had a busy day, and I want to get dinner going. So come in and we'll talk while I cook. If you want to leave then,” he gave her a grin, "I'll even make you a plate to take with you."

  She moved closer, trying to see around him into the house, but all she could see was part of the living room. “Are you alone?”

  “If you're worried about bumping into Matt," Roman stepped back inside, "He's with his grandparents in San Diego for another few days.” He saw her wary look. “But you don't have to worry,” he explained, “if he was here, Matt would love you.”

  She stopped short in the doorway and Roman had to nudge her inside.

  “Relax, Finley.”

  She didn't, but she kept moving. It was, she mused, easier to be a moving target.

  Once he had the door closed behind her, she couldn't help the way her heart fluttered in her chest, and fluttering was not something she was used to.

  She stepped out of his way and stood still in his living room, her eyes traveling over the space. “It's different.”

  He grinned at her and continued across the room toward the open kitchen at the back. “You haven't been here since my parents moved to Sun City.” Finley shook her head and watched as he picked up a knife and started slicing into something on a cutting board. “They took a lot of their furniture with them to keep things familiar.”

  But someone had decorated for him. Or maybe he'd done it himself. The furniture scattered around the room was comfortable, warm pieces that she liked a lot. She pulled her thoughts away from that topic. “So it's just you at home.”

  The smile he gave her was tinged with humor. “It's just me… And you, if you'd like to stay.”

  She shook her head, a quick movement that swished the ends of her loose curls about her shoulders. “I'm not sure that would be a good idea.”

  He leaned back to look at her. “I'm sorry if I scared you.”

  “Scared,” she moved a few steps closer, “I wasn't scared.”

  And it was true. Roman’s hands on her, strong and warm, just like the pressure of his mouth on hers, had shocked her but there was no fear.

  “Angry, maybe?”

  She laughed at that and ventured closer to see what he was doing. His large hands, so suitable to wrestling hoses and wielding axes, or whatever other manly things he did, looked just as much at home sautéing squash on the stove top.

  “Not angry. Worried. I wasn't kidding when I said I needed that job. That was one good thing that came out of Nora's Tweet the other night.” She laughed at herself, “Harper saw that I was in town and Adam put in a good word for me.”

  “Of course he did.” Roman gave her a smile before he turned to check the roast through the oven door. “You're talented. Everyone knew that even back in high school.”

  She bent over to look into the oven. The sight that greeted her was almost as mouth-watering as the man cooking it. “It looks really good.” She swallowed down the thought and smiled sheepishly when he turned and caught her staring… At him, rather than the pot roast. “You look pretty comfortable with a stove and a frying pan.”

  He smiled, taking a step closer to her. “When you're a bachelor you cook or you starve.”

  She nodded. "I'm single and I'm still trying to figure out the timings on the stove. Even when I get out my phone to look up a recipe, I get distracted thinking of something else that needs cleaning or unpacking, and then it's burned to a crisp."

  "You're welcome to come here. Eat with us. I'll help you figure things out. You're part of the family."

  She knew it was silly, over reacting to his words, but that was what Roman was, husband material. Sure, he wasn't married at the moment, but he wanted to be.

  Roman Brady wanted a wife.

  And not just a wife, someone to help raise his son. Something she had no business doing, not when she'd raised herself and done a pretty horrible job of it.

  Finley turned her focus to the fridge near his elbow. “I don't know if that's a good idea. You know I'm not good with kids.”

  "You worry too much. You were old before your time, but that wasn't on you, Finley. Your dad couldn't be bothered to take care of you when you needed him. But that only made you a stronger person. You put too much pressure on yourself. If you just spent some time with Matt, you'd see he's a fun kid who would adore you." She saw the half dozen pieces of artwork on the cool metal surface. Drawings, an award certificate from Mighty Mites for a rank advancement, a handmade certificate good for a homemade milkshake. She could almost feel the wave of fatherly pride wash over him.

  She reached out and traced the curving line of a dolphin as it leapt out of the sea. "I bet you're a
lways there for him."

  “We depend on each other,” he began, “and we're a pretty good team.”

  “Sounds like it.” She'd mumbled her words, her mind on a different kind of team. When the Bradys had discovered her asleep on their porch, they'd invited her in, and had her stay for dinner before taking her home. Her father had been hard pressed to notice that his daughter had been missing for the better part of the afternoon. And when the Bradys had arrived the next morning, he'd barely lifted his head to look as Finley locked the door on her way to school. Quiet and mumbling her thanks, Finley slid onto the backseat and took the seat belt from Roman to buckle herself in. As they'd pulled away from the curb, Finley hadn't looked back at her home. She left her gaze firmly on the stack of books on her lap. A chance meeting had changed her, made Roman a part of her daily life.

  Meeting Roman meant she had a friend, someone who made her better, introduced her to his friends, invited her along with them. It had been shocking, confusing on a daily basis, sometimes leaving her silent and watching him, wondering when he'd come to his senses and leave her behind.

  But Roman Brady was the best kind of friend, and when they were in high school, she'd realized that no matter how much she admired him and how much she cared, there was always something very different in who they were inside that made them the perfect friends but would leave anything else out of the question.

  "Hey," His breath fanned over her cheek and she felt herself heat from head to toe, "what's going on inside your head?"

  "Me?" She wanted to shake her head, but he was too close for her comfort. She didn't think she could handle his lips on her skin, even if it was only her cheek. "I'm fine, really-"

  "I know it's been years, Fin, but I can still tell when you're lying."

  She turned, a move of pure instinct rather than self-preservation, and it got her right into hot water. Roman was so close to her that just the simple lift of her hand, meant to put distance between them, brought them into contact, the palm of her hand flat against the wall of his chest.

  Finley wanted to tell him that he didn't know what he was talking about. But keeping her mouth shut, her mind focused on his future, his happiness, when all she wanted to do was tell him all the emotions and longing inside of her. But that never happened. Finley refused to ruin the one relationship she couldn't lose because she couldn't be the person that he would need. Like his father before him, he'd want the whole package. Being a wife was doable, easy enough to follow. But a mother?

  She just wasn't sure she had 'it' in her. She wasn't sure she had a heart big enough to share with a child. Her mother had passed away when she was a baby, and her father just couldn't seem to find the energy to do more than take care of himself, haphazardly at best.

  “You said,” she tried to move him back, her hands barely touching his chest, "that you wanted to talk.”

  #

  “That's right,” that had been the idea when he'd invited her in, but once he'd felt her hand on his chest, branding him through his clothes, what he wanted to do was kiss her, “I did.”

  When she pushed on him again, he backed up a little and looked her over from head to toe and back again. Until he saw the spark in her eye and the single raised brow over her flushed cheeks.

  “And now?”

  He heard the snap in her tone and his smile only grew.

  “Now, I still want to talk but I also want to-” an acrid scent in the air turned him toward the stove. “Damn.”

  A handful of dark smoky fingers curled up into the light above the stove top. He turned off the burner with a flick of his wrist. The squash pieces that he'd been sautéing were now dark and shriveled in the pan. “Well, that’s a mess.”

  “Oh, Roman,” her voice rose easily into his ears, as she followed him to the stove, her soft sleeve brushing against his bare forearm, “I'm sorry.”

  “Don't be,” he set the pan aside and flicked on the vent above the stove, “I should have kept an eye on it, but I was more interested in you, Fin. You're beautiful. I should have told you that a long time ago.”

  She tried to walk away, waving off his words, but his hand caught at her shoulder and felt the soft rub of her shirt under his palm. He turned her a little so she was facing him, their bodies mere inches apart.

  “Don't do that, Fin,” he did more than ask, his tone nearly begged her, “let me talk to you… and explain. I overreacted this morning and I'm sorry.” He looked at her, trying to get her to understand. "Will knows how to push my buttons. He's always on my shit list.”

  “So you wanted to stick him with something like crossing guard duty-”

  “There's no way I would have assigned him to strip down in front of you, camera or no camera.”

  She laughed a little and looked up at him, brushing her hair back from her face, the silken strands sliding between her fingers with a sigh and his back teeth silently ground against each other. “Joking aside, he’s going to be great in the calendar. If I get a chance to actually take the shots. Adam said he'd find me a new date for a shoot. I can work it around the others that I have scheduled. But that wasn't all that happened this morning.”

  He grinned. "About that-”

  “It's not going to happen again. What I want and what you want,” she shook her head, her grave expression cast a shadow over her features, "don't match." She stepped away from him, needing the distance.

  He managed to make his lips move. “Why not? I want you, Finley. I've wanted you for years."

  “You want a woman that fits into this.” She gestured at the warm and enticing home. “You want a woman who can make this home… something more than what you have.” She shook her head. “You want someone with love to give. Someone to help you raise a family. I want someone to,” she paused, searching for the right words, ”scratch an itch.”

  Roman stood still, needing to keep even a tiny distance from her so he could think. This was the part of Finley that was old beyond her years, a part of her filled with self-doubt. “You're hurt. You have every right to be. And wanting a quick rush must seem like a good idea at the moment, but when you waste that intimacy with someone-”

  “Who said it would be a waste?” She leaned back against the counter and lowered her head to glare at her feet. “As long as he has the parts to match my parts. I'd say it's a good enough place to start.”

  Frustration built inside of him. “And you think Will McGuire would fit the bill.”

  She shrugged. “He’s built, not half bad to look at.”

  “That's casual attraction, Fin.”

  “And casual,” she reminded him, “is what I’m looking for.”

  He took a step closer and she put her hand up, to keep his distance. “I can do casual.” He looked down at her hand and linked their fingers together before she could pull away. “If you're determined to do this crazy thing, Finley, then at least let me make sure you're with someone you can trust.”

  “That's just it, Roman. Trust. I don't think I have any left for people that pee standing up. It's so much easier to have a few unadulterated nights of steamy, desperate-”

  “Stop!” He couldn't stand to hear the words. Not when she wanted it with someone else. He'd stood by before and let it happen. Not again. “What have I ever done to make you not trust me, Fin?”

  “You're lying to me, right now!”

  He opened his mouth, ready to argue with her, but she cut him off.

  “Aren't you?” Her eyes pierced him straight through the heart. “You don't do casual, Roman. You can't.” He tried to take some slim comfort in the fact she sounded disappointed. “You have a son. Nothing you do is casual.”

  “I want you, Finley.” He knew he'd spoken too quickly, too loudly, he saw the way she leaned back and away from him. But at least she was listening. “I know you don't think I mean it, but I do. And if you want something easy, something casual, I can do that.” He felt his heart seize in his chest, knowing that he was lying to her again.

  But h
e saw her expression soften. Saw the way her lips relaxed and parted slightly. He just needed time to get her to see that her plan wasn't as easy as she thought it was. She needed someone dependable. Someone who wanted more than a quick romp in the sheets.

  “I can be that man.”

  He could see the look in her eyes. She wasn't just thinking about it; she was considering it.

  And into that silence he moved closer, his hands stealing out to settle on her hips, his fingers finding the supple strength of the muscles beneath the cotton tunic. He wasn't sure if he moved closer or if she did, but he didn't care.

  Her lips opened, a gentle parting that reminded him of flowers opening under the sun. Finley’s hands closed over his biceps and her fingers slid up, trailing over the swell of his muscles. Her eyelids lowered, a soft flutter of movement.

  “Let me show you-”

  “Roman, I-”

  Beep - Beep - Beep

  The timer on the stove pierced the quiet of the kitchen and Roman swore under his breath. “Let me get the roast out.”

  He grabbed the mitts he'd tossed aside earlier and pulled down the oven door. The heat pushed out at him, brushing across the planes of his face as he leaned in to grab the roast pan.

  “Perfect timing,” he grumbled into the humid heat of the oven, “just perfect-” he set the pan on a trivet beside the stove top and turned back to look at an empty room.

  The hollow click of the door put an end to their conversation.

  #

  Finley found herself standing outside of Stan’s Soup and Service Station, her hand on the door, but frozen in place. She knew Stan had seen her, since he was staring at her through the window.

  She should go somewhere else, but she'd been driving by and a parking space had been open right in front.