Phoenix Burning

by Maitland, Kaitlin

Chris seemed to read her mind. “They’d have left you alone if you hadn’t kept stepping in.”

  “You’re my brother.” Her voice was whisper soft against the memories of a thousand fistfights, a good number of which she’d won because she fought dirty.

  His arms tightened around her. “We’re going to get through this, Emmy Lou.”

  “Maybe someday.”

  Chapter Five

  Alex rolled away from the sunlight streaming through the blinds. His dick throbbed uncomfortably as it was squashed between his body and the mattress. He shifted again, rubbing his eyes to clear away the visions of a dark-haired pixie with laughing brown eyes.

  He wanted her. It was that simple. And yet it wasn’t simple at all. She wasn’t anything like the women he usually took to his bed. She was short, almost boyish in appearance. Her baggy clothes hid whatever curves she might have, and there was nothing seductive about her manner.

  It was her personality that drew him, bold and timid at the same time. Something told him she was struggling to break free. When she’d watched him stroke himself, her eyes had been almost desperate with hunger. He’d never had anyone stare at him like that before, as if there was no one else they wanted to be with. It had shaken him on the inside, this foreign feeling of protectiveness, of possessiveness.

  Reaching down, he palmed the length of his cock beneath the sheet. A tremor shook his body. He focused on the memory of her face, her hungry expression, as he stroked his shaft. He made long languid thrusts against his palm, precum wetting the head and making his fingers slide against his skin.

  His breath came in ragged gusts as he continued his slow assault. He wanted her to watch, to see the damp head of his penis disappearing into his hand. More than that, he wanted her to come closer, reach out, and touch him. Join her fingers with his and stroke the flaming heat of his skin. Her hand in concert with his, each stroke agony as they grew quicker, harried as tension drew his balls close to his body. He needed her hand to sink lower, cup his sac, and put pressure on the sensitive flesh underneath. Then he wanted her to gaze up into his face while she savored his release.

  Climax caught Alex by surprise. The long vein in his shaft pulsed as a stream of hot semen splashed onto his belly. He pumped again, feeling the relief, but not an end to his desire. Only one thing would put the fire to rest. He wanted to stare straight into her eyes and penetrate her sweet pussy until they were both too sated to move.

  * * *

  Emory unlocked her shop and flipped the sign to open. Fox would be there in ten minutes to load the wedding flowers into his SUV. She yawned and picked up the mug of coffee she’d left on the counter. Her headache wasn’t quite as bad as she’d expected after her alcohol binge the night before, but sleep had been elusive.

  The front bell dinged and she cringed at the unexpected sound.

  “Baby, you look like you’ve been rode hard and put away wet.” Fox’s soft Midwestern drawl was tinged with laughter.

  “Yep, I look like the morning after, and you’re the one who probably got laid.” It was a poor attempt at humor.

  “Not me. Chris spent half the night with you. He was really worried.” Fox pushed his sunglasses up into his curly dark hair, revealing his worried green gaze. An exercise aficionado, Fox’s athletic shorts and tank top suggested he’d been up long enough to go for a run and have a protein shake.

  “Is he all right?” She hated to think that her personal problems were keeping her brother up at night. She’d caused him enough trouble over the years.

  “He’s fine.” Fox reached out and tugged her in for a warm hug. “You’re the one who needs some sugar.”

  Normally she’d have rolled her eyes and laughed him off, but it felt good to snuggle against the man she’d long ago started calling her brother’s “wife.” It was an ironic nickname since Fox was a head taller and more muscular than her slender brother. However, personality wise, Fox had huge doses of something people usually called feminine intuition.

  “So tell me about this guy you met last night.” Fox dropped a kiss on top of her head.

  She pulled away, feeling both embarrassed and relieved that Chris had told Fox about her strange new infatuation. “His name is Alex.” She picked up her mug and took a sip, perching on the bar stool behind her counter.

  “Alex. Bartender Alex?” Fox settled himself against a prep table, folding his arms and settling into a thoughtful stance. “I know exactly who you’re talking about. He’s definitely a hottie.”

  “Since when do you and my brother hang out there?” She was starting to feel as if she’d been purposely excluded on these trips to the Phoenix.

  “Chris and I have been everywhere. We stop there for a drink when it’s too late to go anywhere else. It doesn’t look like much, but the atmosphere is amazing, and the regulars are less judgmental than some of the people we meet in gay bars.”

  “So, you know Alex?” She wondered how much Fox could tell her. As a writer, he was so detail oriented he might be able to tell her if the guy went commando all the time, or if he sometimes indulged in a pair of silk boxers.

  Fox took off his sunglasses and set them on the table before running his fingers through his shoulder length hair. “He’s a bartender. They’re fairly friendly by nature.”

  “Have you ever seen him with anyone?”

  “If you’ve spent any time at all inside that bar, you know anything goes. I think it’s fair to say I’ve seen him with a lot of anyones.”

  She slumped against the counter, pressing her cheek to the wood. “Terrific. So even if I got him to acknowledge I’m alive, I’ll only be able to hold his attention until the next piece of ass walks through the door.”

  “Oh. My. God. You sound like a high schooler!” He lounged back onto his elbows. “If you get him to notice you? Of course he noticed you. You’re hard to forget.”

  “What?”

  “You and Chris both are. The two of you have something special. It lights up your eyes when you smile and makes people take a second look whether they want to or not. You’re genuine, something new and fresh, probably something he’s never seen before.”

  It was a beautiful speech, but it didn’t tell her how to proceed. “So?”

  “Sweetie, if you want him, you have to go in there and let him know. He’s a man. You’ve got to spell it out for him.”

  Emory thought about the blonde who’d strutted in, kneeled down, and took Alex’s erection into her mouth. How was Emory ever supposed to compete with that kind of sexy, no-holds-barred approach? And once she had his attention, what was she supposed to do with it? What if she was wrong? What if the blackness reared up and swallowed her whole, leaving nothing but a quivering, wobbly mass of gooey Emory who could barely stammer her own name?

  “You’ve got nothing to lose, Emory.” Fox’s soft words drew her back to the moment.

  “My self-respect?”

  “No, baby, that’s what you’re trying to get back.”

  It was too much for now. She needed to think about it, decide a course of action, and maybe bury herself in paperwork for a few hours to avoid the necessity of making a decision. “How about we get the flowers loaded so the wedding planner doesn’t put out a contract on my life.”

  “Those wedding planners are overly dramatic.” Fox put his glasses back on his head and headed for the walk-in cooler. “I’m telling you, drama is so overrated.”

  “You would know.”

  They bantered back and forth as they loaded vases, wreathes, and bouquets into the back of his SUV. He might be a drama queen on occasion, but there was no doubt in her mind that Fox was an important part of hers and Chris’s life. She was reminded of what her brother had said about his partner the night before. Would Emory ever find someone to balance out her life?

  Focus on one thing at a time. Find a way to put the past in the past and move forward before you start thinking about more.

  They’d just closed the back window of Fox’s SUV when Donov
an MacIntyre’s sports car purred its way into a spot right in front of her shop. Fox twirled his keys in his hand, the expression on his face letting her know without question what he thought of their early-morning visitor.

  “Emory! Good morning, honey. Looks like you’re already busy!” MacIntyre strode around the hood of his car, swiping invisible lint from his standard issue polo and khakis. Either he’d just gotten out of the shower or he’d gone a little overboard with the gel, because his dark hair looked like an oil slick. She wondered if he gelled his beard into place too.

  “Just finishing up with flowers for a wedding.” She kept her tone brisk, hoping he’d realize she was too busy for idle chitchat.

  “Fantastic. I was hoping you’d have time for a little break and we could grab some breakfast.”

  Fox crossed his arms, his friendly features looking downright hostile. “Em, Chris was planning on stopping by in just a few minutes.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Thanks, Foxy.” She gave MacIntyre her best apologetic smile. “My brother’s coming to chat, and I’m all by myself today, so my breaks will have to be here at the store.”

  MacIntyre didn’t miss a beat. “Then how about I bring you lunch?”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary. I’m sure you’re busy today.”

  “No, I insist!” MacIntyre headed back to his car. “I’ll see you around noon.”

  She watched the pushy bastard drive around the block before addressing Foxy’s little fib. “Chris doesn’t have time to swing by here later this morning. You and my brother are driving up the river to that bed and breakfast for the rest of the weekend.”

  “I’m not going on a romantic mini-vaca and leaving you here to have lunch with that asshole.” Fox sounded insulted.

  “Yes, you are. My brother spent weeks planning this two-night getaway. I’ll be fine.”

  “If he tries anything. You know what to do.”

  She stood on tiptoe and kissed Fox’s cheek. “They’ll have to pry his family jewels out with a wrench.”

  “That’s my girl.” Fox wrapped her in another warm hug before driving off to deliver the wedding flowers.

  Emory headed back into her shop, hoping she wouldn’t have to put that plan into action. Defying Captain Downtown would come with a cost.

  Chapter Six

  Alex moved another case of liquor onto the stack in the storeroom. He felt like he’d been at it for hours, though it’d been only twenty minutes. The day was just dragging ass.

  Like me.

  He’d stayed in bed until the last possible moment, the remnants of his morning orgasm remaining on his stomach until he’d forced himself from the bed and into the shower. But washing it away wasn’t enough. He couldn’t scour away the memory of her eyes or her tinkling laughter.

  “Are you still back here?” Jessa leaned around the corner. “The supplier is on the line wanting to know how much Connor is ordering.”

  “Shit.” Alex did a quick tally in his head and jotted down a few numbers. He handed her the clipboard. “Here. This should do it.”

  “Her name is Emory Banks, you know.”

  Jessa’s words took several seconds to sink in. “What?”

  “It took me a minute yesterday to place her because she’s never come in here.”

  Why was his heart hammering in his chest? “How do you know her?”

  “She runs the flower shop around the corner.”

  A flower shop? Somehow it seemed entirely too apropos, a pixie in a flower shop.

  “In fact, I could use a couple of hanging baskets for the house if you’d be interested in going over to pick them out. I’ve got a lot to do this afternoon.” Jessa disappeared down the hallway toward Connor’s office before Alex could reply.

  He glanced at the clock. It was just after twelve. He had plenty of time before the Saturday afternoon crowd started to wander in. Reaching behind his waist, he untied his apron and tossed it onto the nearest stack of liquor. At this point, was there really anything to lose?

  * * *

  “I’m really glad you decided to have lunch with me, Emory.” Donovan reached across the counter and took her hand. “It’s so nice to have fellow business owners in the downtown area that understand how important it is to maintain the hometown image we have here.”

  She nodded because there was nothing else to do. It wasn’t as if the bonehead had asked her what she thought downtown ought to look like.

  “Now that I’ve gotten the mayor on my side, things should really take off.”

  “The mayor?” Something told her there was some shady business going on at city hall.

  “The mayor and I go way back. He and I went to college together. He’s a very unusual guy.” MacIntyre’s oily smile made her skin crawl. “Mayor Strand is really in touch with his feminine side, if you know what I mean.”

  “Really? I had no idea.”

  He lifted her hand to his mouth for a kiss. “I’m nothing like that, Emory. I’m straight as an arrow.”

  Emory fought back a stab of anger and glued her mouth shut. This was wrong. Being with him was wrong. Which was ironic since her father would have loved him. Her father had spent decades telling her that she’d never be good enough for the Donovans of the world, the men who wanted a woman who knew her place.

  She searched for something to say that would diffuse his romantic intentions. “Actually, I was hoping we could talk about the petition.”

  “The petition.”

  “Do you have it with you?”

  He released her hand, his expression settling into something she could label only as careful. “It’s in the car. Do you want me to get it?”

  “Yes, please.”

  His brief retreat gave her a few minutes to scrape her courage together. He reminded her so much of her father. A slick, suave exterior that drew you in, and a cold, controlling interior that made you want to run. She’d gone out with him because he’d asked her, because she was willing to try anything.

  The first date had been mediocre at best. As usual, she’d been tongue tied and shy. He’d seemed to like her demure attitude, asking her out again almost immediately. It was on the second date where he’d started to show his true colors. He’d ordered her food, criticized her clothing, and pinned her to his side like a dog on a leash. She’d spent a good portion of the evening hiding in the restroom, trying not to hyperventilate as her anxiety reached uncontrollable heights.

  Donovan reentered the shop and set the sheaf of papers on the counter beside her. “I’m hoping your eagerness to see the petition means you want to sign it.”

  Two signatures caught her eye. Dacey Tolliver and Clement Latham? Why would a woman who owned a bookshop and the proprietor of an art gallery sign a petition like this?

  “I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses about the lewd conduct at the bar.” Donovan’s smile was as oily as his gelled hair.

  “Is that the basis of your complaint against them?” She thought about the skintight uniforms he’d chosen for his wait staff. “You think they’re violating public indecency laws?”

  “Of course!” His tone took on the Captain Downtown cadence that Fox claimed induced mega migraine headaches. “The kinds of riffraff that go to that place aren’t the kind of patrons I want in my establishment.”

  “So the Phoenix isn’t a threat to you financially?” She could practically smell the bullshit. There was something else going on here.

  “Public displays of sexual acts have no place in our city. The people who go there are crass and rowdy. They cause trouble and commit crimes. Law enforcement has been looking the other way for years now and it has to stop.” His face was turning red.

  If law enforcement had looked the other way, Emory suspected it was because they either enjoyed hanging out there, or what actually went on inside was still at more of an urban myth status. Still, she knew there was more to MacIntyre’s problem than he would admit. “So the entire basis of your petition is public indecency?” She fel
t like Chris working a deposition.

  “Yes!”

  “What, exactly, constitutes public indecency? The current laws covering nudity exclude bars like the Phoenix from the list of public places as long as they have strict age restrictions and don’t have a menu large enough to qualify them as a restaurant. There’s no prostitution going on, it’s consensual, and I didn’t see anything that struck me as a violation of the law.” That was sort of stretching the truth, since fornicating in public most likely fell under the heading of “stuff the cops purposely didn’t see.” On the other hand, she wasn’t going to be the one to blow the whistle.

  He absorbed her careful speech for several minutes. “Did you say what you saw?”

  “Are you telling me you’ve never been inside?” A strange thought occurred to her. What if MacIntyre’s entire campaign against the Phoenix was based on that urban myth? That would almost certainly mean he had ulterior motives of the economic variety.

  “What goes on in there is common knowledge. I don’t need to immerse myself in that filth to know it’s wrong. The owner is a convicted criminal, and the people who work for him are no better than thugs and degenerates.”

  His words were coated in a thick layer of derision. She wondered if the doorman at the Phoenix had strict orders not to let Captain Downtown into the bar. In fact, it would make perfect sense that they’d keep out anyone with a vested interest in making trouble.

  So shocked and angry on Alex’s behalf, she didn’t pick up on MacIntyre’s agitation until it was too late. “I want to know if you’ve actually been inside that cesspool.” His voice was dangerously rough.

  The only thing she had on her side was logic. “I wanted to see why you’re attempting to close down a locally owned business. I don’t condemn something I have no knowledge of, Mr. MacIntyre.”

  “Donovan!” His voice thundered in her ears. “You will call me by my name. And I don’t know what you’re playing at, going into a place like that, but it will stop.” He grabbed her arm above the elbow, squeezing hard. “I’ve tried to be nice and give you time to adjust to the idea of the two of us as a couple, but it’s becoming readily apparent that I need to spell it out.” Her arm was in danger of going numb. “I will have you, Emory Banks.”