“Attention, please, attention,” Doris spoke into the microphone. The band stopped playing and the roar of conversation lowered to a murmur. “Thank you so much for joining us tonight. I’m Doris Finwater, this year’s Fireman’s Auction coordinator.”
The crowd applauded and cheered.
“As you know,” Doris continued, “we have twenty firefighters here tonight who have generously offered their time to help raise money for the new wing of the Brookline Hospital children’s ward. But before we begin our auction, I’d like to show everyone a short film on exactly how your generous donations will be spent and, at the same time, introduce our bachelors to you from our taped interviews.”
Shane knew that was his cue to go backstage and wait until his name was called. When he came out on stage, every woman who wanted to bid would have already seen a short clip about each man. After the bidding, a limousine would take each “couple” to a restaurant, they’d have dinner, then the limo would take them home. Three, four hours tops. An easy way to make money for a good cause. He glanced at his watch. With any luck, he’d be home by eleven.
If he was really lucky, Shane thought, Captain Griffin’s seventy-five-year-old mother, Fern, would win the bid. She’d lost last year by only a hundred dollars. If she did win, they’d not only be home by nine, the captain couldn’t get mad at him for not bringing in enough money. Mama Fern had caught his eye in the crowd earlier and given him a thumbs-up, so Shane guessed she was determined to bid higher this year.
He hoped she won.
To the tune of “Born to Be Wild,” the first bachelor was introduced and the women went wild when the bidding began.
Shane slipped a finger between his neck and his collar. It felt as if the damn shirt had shrunk. He knew that most guys would give their eyeteeth to be standing in his shoes right now—even if his shoes were too tight and too stiff. There were some fine-looking women in that crowd. It wasn’t exactly a hardship to take one of them out to dinner.
But his heart just wasn’t in it this year, and his mind was definitely preoccupied elsewhere.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Emily. Couldn’t stop thinking about the taste of her, the soft little noise she’d made when he’d kissed her. The feel of her body pressed against his. He’d picked up the phone a dozen times to call her, then slammed it back down.
The sound of a woman’s scream startled Shane out of his thoughts. Amid the audience’s laughter, he heard Doris Finwater offer congratulations to the lucky bidder, then move on to the next bachelor. Beside him, Matt and Ken were mercilessly teasing Sam about showing some skin, and the rookie looked a bit green around the gills.
Shane shook his head at their nonsense, but did nothing to save poor Sam. While the bidding continued, he folded his hands and blocked out what was going on around him.
And against his will, his mind immediately drifted back to Emily.
He’d made the right decision about her, dammit. She deserved a hell of a lot more than he had to offer. As desperately as he wanted to see her, to be with her, to make love to her, he didn’t want to hurt her.
Whatever she thought she felt for him, it was only out of gratitude. She was confused right now. Not knowing who she was or anything about herself, that would obviously mess up anyone’s ability to think logically or reasonably. One day, and probably soon, she would start to remember things. Piece by piece, bit by bit, her memory would return. She’d slip back into her old life, where she belonged, and he would slip back into his.
So what was the problem? he’d asked himself a hundred times. Why not just enjoy whatever time they spent together? When it was time to go their own ways, so be it. He’d never thought ahead like this before, had never been so concerned about what was down the road.
No woman had ever made him crazy like this before, either. Completely occupied his waking thoughts, then haunted his dreams, as well. And in his dreams, he did a hell of a lot more than kiss Emily. In his dreams, he’d slipped his hands under her blouse, unhooked her bra, then filled his palms with her soft, warm flesh. In his dreams, he’d lowered his mouth and—
“Cummings.” Sam tugged nervously at his bow tie. “I’m up next. What do I do?”
Sam was obviously scared to death, Shane thought, and almost felt sorry for the kid. Matt was on the stage at the moment to the tune of “Bad to the Bone.” Shane rolled his eyes when he peeked from behind the curtain and watched his friend pull out a pair of sunglasses, then give his Arnold Schwarzenegger impression. The women were eating it up, and the bidding turned intense.
Shane looked back at Sam. “You know that hand-stand-back flip thing you did the other day at the station?”
“What about it?”
“Just do that.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Sam seemed to relax then, and thirty seconds later he went out to the tune of “You Sexy Thing” and did a triple back flip across the stage.
And ripped his pants.
Uh-oh, Shane thought, then blew out a sigh of relief when the opening bid was five hundred, two hundred more than any other opening bid. A pair of cute twin blondes in the front were practically hyperventilating as they upped the bid. After fierce battling, the twins won Sam at a whopping three grand, the highest bid for the evening.
Still, Division 40 was in the lead by four thousand, Shane computed. The odds of him bringing in more than that were very, very slim.
Captain Griffin was going to make his life hell.
With a sigh, Shane smoothed the front of his tux, heard Doris call his name, then groaned at his music, a fast country-western song, “Be My Baby Tonight.”
Great. What was he supposed to do with that?
He plastered a smile on his face, stepped on stage to a flurry of cheers and applause, then did the first thing that came to his mind.
He grabbed Doris.
While John Michael Montgomery wailed about love at first sight, Shane did a tricky two-step with the startled mistress of ceremonies, then kissed her cheek and released her. The crowd exploded with cheers and catcalls.
Flushed, Doris opened the bid herself at seven hundred.
Eight hundred.
One thousand.
Fifteen hundred.
C’mon, Mama Fern, Shane urged silently.
And it inched upward quickly, over two, then three thousand. Mama Fern dropped off at thirty-five hundred.
Thirty-six.
Thirty-seven.
Shane thought for a moment that was where it would stay, when a woman called out from the back of the room.
“Five thousand dollars.”
There were gasps throughout the crowd.
Five thousand dollars? That was the highest bid of the night by two thousand. Shane glanced out to see who’d made such a generous bid, but the glare from the stage lights was too great to see past the front row of people.
“We have five thousand dollars,” Doris sputtered into the microphone. “Do I hear six?”
It seemed as if the entire room held its collective breath.
“Going once…going twice…sold!” Doris brought her gavel down on the podium and looked out over the sea of people. “To…?”
“Emily Barone.”
At the sound of her voice, Shane felt his pulse race. Emily? Emily was here?
An excited murmur buzzed through the room. Most everyone in Boston knew who Emily Barone was, especially in this room full of wealthy socialites. Shane watched as she moved awkwardly through the crowd, then lifted her gaze to his.
She’d done something to her hair, he realized. It wasn’t exactly shorter, it had just been cut to frame her face in soft, wispy strands. Her lips were brushed glossy red, her eyelids a subtle smoky-blue. She wore a black dress, long and sleek, cut in a low V. A string of pearls circled the base of her throat and she carried a black beaded shawl and small black purse in her hand.
If it hadn’t been stuck to the top of his mouth, his tongue would
have fallen out.
He heard the whispering. “Barone family”…“poisoned gelato”…“sex scandal.” And he knew that she heard, as well.
Her stride appeared steady, but when their eyes met, he saw the hesitation there.
“Miss Barone,” Doris said with a beaming smile. “Perhaps you’d like to come up here and claim your date for the evening.”
And then suddenly she didn’t look so confident. He noticed a falter in her step as she glanced around the crowded room, saw that everyone was staring at her. He saw her shoulders stiffen and her eyes widen. He was certain she was about to turn and run.
Oh, hell.
He jumped off the stage, scooped her up in his arms and carried her through the mass of people.
The room exploded with applause and laughter and cheers. Cameras flashed.
He kept going, down the carpeted hall, through the lobby, to the outside drive where the limos were lined up for the event. He opened the back door of the first limo, set Emily on the black leather bench, then slid in beside her.
The driver rolled down the window separating the front from the back. From his inside pocket, Shane pulled out the envelope containing the name of the restaurant and directions, handed it to the driver, then closed the partition window himself and turned back to Emily.
She’d pulled her shawl completely over her head and sat stiff as a post.
Smiling, he lifted one end of the shawl, then folded it back from her face. Her eyes were squeezed closed.
“You must think I’m such an idiot,” she whispered.
“Why in the world would I think that?”
“For being such a coward.” She turned her head away. “If you hadn’t picked me up when you did, I think my knees might have given out.”
“Hey.” He cupped her chin in his hand and turned her face back to his. With the shawl still draped over her head, her face had an angelic quality about it. Her skin felt warm and smooth. Her scent, subtle but distinctly feminine, drew him in closer. “It took guts to walk in that room by yourself. And you just donated five thousand dollars to charity. That hardly makes you an idiot.”
Still she didn’t open her eyes. “Would you ask the driver to take me to my apartment?” She recited her address.
“We have dinner reservations at L’Espalier. Aren’t you hungry?”
Emily felt herself leaning into Shane’s touch, felt her bones melting. She snapped her spine straight again.
“No.” She could still feel everyone’s eyes on her at the auction, could hear the whispers. When she’d remembered the flyer she’d seen at the fire station, then decided to go and bid on Shane, she’d thought she’d been ready to face all those people. Obviously she hadn’t.
She heard him sigh, then pick up the back seat phone and give the driver her address.
When he hung up, Emily opened her eyes and met Shane’s intense gaze. A few more minutes and this humiliation would be over, she told herself. But first she owed him an apology.
“Shane, I’m so sorry,” she began. “I knew my family was a little high-profile right now, but I hadn’t realized how much so until I saw the expressions on everyone’s faces tonight. And all those cameras flashing when you carried me out of that room. I can only imagine how the newspapers will twist a story like that.”
“Does that matter to you?” he asked quietly. “What the newspapers might say, or people might think?”
She shook her head. “I don’t care what they say about me, but now I’ve dragged you into the eye of the Barone hurricane, too. That’s hardly a way to repay you for everything you’ve done for me.”
“Emily.” Shane lowered the shawl covering her head to the back of her neck, then gripped the ends. “I think it’s time we were honest with each other.”
Here it comes, she thought. The “you’re-a-nice-girl-and-I-like-you-a-lot-but” speech.
“You don’t have to say it, Shane,” she said evenly. “I understand you aren’t as attracted to me as I am to you and it’s all right. Really.”
He sighed heavily. “Emily—”
“And based on what’s going on in my family right now,” she rushed on, “not to mention the little fact that I’ve lost my memory, I certainly wouldn’t blame you for wanting to stay as far away as possible from—”
“Emily, for God’s sake, will you just shut up?”
He yanked on the shawl around her neck and pulled her closer, then his mouth slammed down on hers. She sucked in a breath at the hard press of his lips on hers, then curled her hands around the lapels of his tux jacket.
This kiss was nothing at all like the tender kiss they’d shared on the beach. This time his mouth assaulted her senses, made her forget everything but him. She knew the limo was moving through downtown traffic, heard the distant sound of a horn and the buzz of passing cars. She knew that the driver was just on the other side of the partition, too, that at any moment it might slide down and he’d see them.
She just didn’t care.
Heat simmered her blood, raced through her veins. Her head spun. Wave after wave of pleasure washed through her. His mouth was relentless, demanding, and she pressed closer to him, wanting more.
Thankfully, he complied.
He deepened the kiss, slanted his mouth against hers again and again. The wild beating of her heart drowned out every thought, every doubt, every hesitation. Need vibrated through her, had her circling his neck with her arms and pressing closer still.
Then suddenly he dragged his mouth from hers. His breathing was as ragged as hers, his voice tight as he said, “I think that tells you how I feel about you, Emily.”
He swooped down on her again before she could respond, his mouth hot and hungry and urgent. She met him eagerly, heard the sound of her own moan as he pressed her back against the seat. The scent of leather and man filled her senses. His hands slid down her arms, skimmed the sides of her breasts, then moved upward again to cup her face.
Once again, he broke the kiss and stared down at her. His expression was dark, his eyes narrowed with desire. Pleasure, as intense as it was primitive, streaked through her.
“And another thing,” he said hoarsely, “I didn’t stay away from you because of what the newspapers or gossipmongers are spouting about your family. I stayed away because I’ve wanted you from the moment you looked at me in that ambulance. It might as well have been a bolt of lightning, it hit me so damn hard.”
She blinked, trying to make sense of his words. “You…wanted me?”
He smiled at her surprise. “I’ve had one hell of a tough time keeping my hands off you, Emily.”
“You didn’t have to. I—” She hesitated, felt the heat rush to her cheeks. “I want your hands on me.”
His eyes glinted in the semidarkness, then his gaze dropped to her mouth. For one heart-stopping moment she thought he was going to kiss her again.
But he didn’t. Instead, he released her, then sat back against the seat and sighed. “Emily, you’ve just been through a major trauma. I know you’re grateful to me for—”
“Is that what you think?” The heat that had been rushing through her veins cooled, settled into an icy lump in her stomach. “That I want you to kiss me, to make love to me, because I’m grateful?”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I just think you need a little more time.”
“Everyone seems to have an opinion on what they think I need.” Her voice was as tight as the damn teddy she’d bought to wear beneath this dress. “Not one person has asked me what I want.”
“Emily—”
“I’m not a child, Shane.” Two weeks of pent-up frustration bubbled to the surface. “I’ve lost my memory, not my ability to think or make my own decisions.”
“For God’s sake, will you just—”
The limo pulled up in front of her apartment and she opened the door before the driver could get out of the car.
“Thank you again for coming to my rescue, Mr. Cummings.” She grabbed her purse from the s
eat. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to see myself up.”
She slammed the door and made her way up the walk, through the front entrance of her apartment, then up the stairs. She had no idea how the old Emily would have handled this mess, but the new Emily refused to let herself fall apart, refused to feel sorry for herself, and she sure as hell refused to cry.
She let herself into her apartment, tossed her shawl and purse on the chair and headed for the kitchen, hopping from foot to foot as she yanked off her new high heels and dropped them on the floor.
So much for her night of seduction, she thought, opening her cupboard. She pulled out a box of Godiva candy her mother had sent over, opened it, then unwrapped a square of solid chocolate and popped it in her mouth.
She felt better already.
She was reaching for a second piece when she heard the knock at the door. Her pulse jumped, then she heard a second, louder knock.
“Emily, open up,” she heard Shane say from the other side.
Frowning, she walked back to the door, picking up her high heels on the way. If he apologized, she swore she’d bean him with the shoes.
“Yes?” she said politely when she opened the door, then gasped when he stepped quickly inside and grabbed hold of her shoulders.
His mouth was set into a thin, tight line. His eyes met hers with the heat of a laser.
“What do you want?” he asked her, tightening his hold on her arms. “Tell me what you want.”
She met and held his intense gaze, then lifted her chin. “You,” she said evenly, surely. “I want you.”
Seven
Without looking back, Shane closed the door behind him and turned the latch. They both stood there, no more than a foot separating them, their eyes locked on each other.
She waited.
Anticipation heightened her senses. The sweet scent of flowers drifted from the vase on her coffee table. She heard the steady tick-tock from a library clock on the wall, and the sound of her own heart slamming against her ribs.
She thought if Shane didn’t say something, didn’t do something soon, her knees might give out.
Where There's Smoke... Page 7
