White Heat

by Jill Shalvis

  Turning away at that, he scooped up the kitten she’d dumped. “We’d better go.”

  Right. She started to pass him but he was holding the silly little kitten against his big body, stroking it until the thing had closed its eyes in ecstasy, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You’re thinking something.”

  Yeah, she was thinking. She was thinking a lot of things, starting with the fact that he did something to her insides.

  In fact, he turned her inside out.

  Deciding that was a bad thing, she plopped into her seat, slammed on her headphones and sent him a cool glance. “I was thinking this is where I come on and say ‘have a nice flight.’”

  “It is going to be nice, isn’t it?”

  At the slight unease in his voice, she smiled grimly. “Nervous?”

  “When you smile like that, hell yeah. Who taught you to fly?”

  “My grandfather. Air Force lifer. He taught me everything I know.”

  “Is that why you’re such a softie?”

  Her smile widened. “You know it. I’m a living example of what happens when a girl gets raised by a tough officer.”

  He didn’t smile back. “What happened to the rest of your family, Lyndie?”

  She shrugged. “My parents died when I was four. My grandfather took me on. And flying was how we bonded. Do check your seat belt. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

  “Lyndie—”

  “Just going over procedure.”

  “You’re trying to avoid talking serious.”

  “Yep.”

  “All right.” He looked at her for a long moment. “How about we forget procedure and I come over there and kiss you stupid?”

  She laughed. “What?”

  “Yeah, you’re always really nice to me after I kiss you stupid.”

  “You have never kissed me stupid.”

  He lifted a brow.

  “You haven’t.”

  “Is that a dare?”

  “No.” God, no. “Look, Ace, no one…kisses me like that.”

  “No one?”

  “No one.”

  She ignored his knowing expression and began her takeoff. Always she’d been able to clear her mind, but now she found herself thinking about what he’d just said. About how good his mouth was, how he could indeed render her idiotic with just a kiss.

  Damn him.

  “Lyndie—”

  “No. I don’t want to talk about it.” Shifting in her seat a little, the silent sexual current between them making her itchy, she told herself it was all in her imagination.

  She told herself that every time she glimpsed at him during the flight; every time he sent her one of those Griffin Moore looks, making her itch all over again.

  15

  They landed in San Diego. A lineman helped Lyndie tie the plane down, and he did so with a sweet, eager, pathetic smile that made Griffin want to tell the poor guy not to waste his time.

  Lyndie Anderson was immune to such things. Hell, she was barely human.

  Only he knew that wasn’t true. He’d seen firsthand how much she did for others, he’d felt her melt in his arms. She was human, extremely human…and extremely tough.

  Had it been losing her family so young? Being raised by her apparently equally tough grandfather? For all that Griffin had lost last year, he had a solid foundation of love. He knew about friendships and family and trusting people.

  Lyndie, apparently, did not.

  He could try to give her some of that, could be her friend, let her trust him. It wouldn’t be a hardship, he liked her, very much. Affection would be easy, so would a physical relationship…maybe it could even grown to more, far more.

  But he didn’t trust his own emotions at the moment. He didn’t know if his feelings for her were real, or if he was just waking up after a year of emotional shutdown. He knew he wanted her physically. God, he wanted her physically.

  But that was lust. Lust wasn’t close to love…And no matter how he spun it, did he really want to coax her out of her shell, coax her into opening her heart to him, into starting something serious until he knew what was in his own heart?

  He couldn’t, it was too unfair.

  He followed her through customs, the airport too noisy and chaotic to talk, not that Lyndie looked in a mood to talk by the fact that she didn’t look at him and walked so fast he could hardly keep up with her.

  When he got outside, Brody was there waiting for him, hands in his pockets, hair blowing in the middle of the night breeze. Griffin sighed as Brody asked, “How was the flight?”

  He still had butterflies in his stomach from the landing, which he suspected Lyndie had taken so roughly just to see him turn green. She seemed to like him green.

  It was the only time she was nice to him, though nice as it pertained to Lyndie was a relative term. He turned to glance back for a glimpse of her at the exact same moment she came outside with a cat carrier she’d gotten in customs. She brushed past him. “See ya, Ace.”

  See ya? He’d waited for her, and she was just going to…walk away?

  Since she kept moving, he assumed so.

  Curious at the odd light in his brother’s eyes as he stood there on the sidewalk outside the terminal, Brody moved closer. “Hey. You okay?”

  Griffin growled some sort of unintelligible answer as he watched a woman—a hot, curvy little thing in a leather bomber jacket and short fiery auburn hair—stalk away.

  “Who’s that?” Brody asked with interest.

  “My pilot.” Griffin’s voice suggested sheer frustration and bafflement—common emotions when it came to women in Brody’s opinion.

  She might have kept walking if Griffin hadn’t surged forward, snagging her arm to hold her still, leaning in to say something Brody couldn’t quite catch.

  The woman pulled free, and then stalked off as if Griffin had made her so mad she could hardly contain herself.

  Brody understood the sentiment, he’d been there, done that with him himself many times, but still…very interesting.

  Silent and brooding, Griffin came back to Brody’s side.

  Oh, yes, very interesting, Brody decided. Before coming here, he’d snooped around in the small house his brother had rented all year, and had discovered not a single personal tie. Not a phone number of a friend, or any evidence that Griffin had contact with anyone.

  And yet something had jolted him back to the land of the living the past few days. Despite the deafening silence, there was a spark of life in his brother’s eyes. Granted, it was temper, but a spark was a spark, and Brody would take what he could get. “Your pilot?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She’s hot.”

  “No. Yes. Damn it, no.”

  “Do I need to reteach you everything?”

  Griffin growled, and Brody laughed. Then he reached out for his brother. “God, it’s good to see you.” Knowing full well he risked being strangled, he hugged him.

  Griffin endured it for a moment, then pushed away and started walking—in the opposite direction as the hot pilot had gone.

  With a grin, Brody followed. “So, you had a good time?”

  “Where did you park?”

  “I bet she was able to take your mind off getting back on the job, right?”

  “Brody, tell me which way to go or I’m going to call a cab.”

  “Hey, I’m just making small talk here.”

  “Screw small talk. Get me the hell out of here.”

  Yep, definitely back amongst the living, which could hurt like hell, he had to admit. “Does she kiss as hot as she looks?”

  Fists clenched, Griffin whirled around, and Brody laughed, joy filling him. “You’re really back. Christ, I missed you.”

  “I was only gone for two days.”

  “I missed you for a year. A whole damn year. Tell me you’re not going to vanish on me again. On us again.”

>   Griffin started into the night lit by the lights and sounds of traffic, jaw clenched. “I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do…” He let out a breath and looked him in the eye. “But I won’t vanish again.”

  Brody’s throat went tight with relief, and he nodded. To give them both a moment, they watched the pretty pilot cross the street, heading toward the parking lot. “Don’t you want to thank her?”

  “For what? Driving me crazy for two days?”

  “For bringing that life to your eyes. What else did she bring life to?”

  “Brody?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Shut up.”

  Brody laughed. Oh yeah, it was good to have him back.

  * * *

  Riiiiiip.

  At the sound, Lyndie woke and sat straight up. “What the hell—”

  She blinked the room into view. Small bedroom, plain with white walls, white comforter, pine wood floor. The sound of waves crashing and the scent of salty air came in the open windows.

  She was home in Del Mar, in Sam’s guesthouse, which she rented for a song. She’d been back for two full days, so this shouldn’t have surprised her, but sometimes she traveled around so much she forgot where she was when she woke up.

  It was barely seven in the morning, but apparently the breeze had made the curtains flutter, which in turn had turned the kitten into a wild thing, as he was currently swinging from them.

  Hence the ripping sound as his claws tore into the material.

  “Damn it.” Surging to her feet, she tried to liberate him, but was rewarded with a long hiss as the little ears went flat back against his head.

  “Feeling’s mutual, tough guy.” She lifted him up, looking him in the eye. “Rule number one, no noise before eight a.m. Rule number two, no swinging from the curtains, they’re not even mine.”

  She deposited him on the floor. “Rule three, stay out of trouble.”

  Made for trouble, the kitten went scampering off. She should have left him in the cat carrier the airport had forced her to purchase to transport the animal. She looked around her. There were piles of clothes here and there that she hadn’t had time to take care of. She tended to run into Target and just buy more underwear rather than actually do laundry. As for other personal effects, she hadn’t collected anything of her own for the place in all the time she’d been here. Because of that, there wasn’t much else for the kitten to destroy, which actually wasn’t a comfort.

  When had this place gotten so sterile?

  But she already knew the answer to that. Every single place she’d ever lived in had been sterile, starting with the military houses she’d inhabited with her grandfather. She’d gotten real good at keeping only what she could easily pack into a suitcase when it was time to go.

  Oh well, all that mattered now was that she had a few days to herself. She could clean out her refrigerator. Scratch that, it was already empty. Hmm…She could call Sam and see if he’d give her an extra shift, but she’d already made a big deal about having a few days off, so that was no good.

  She could…hell, she could count ceiling tiles if she wanted, but a better idea came to her. She’d go lie on the beach and watch the waves. That should take up an hour. Maybe she’d even swim, and use up some of this restless energy she couldn’t seem to shake. Tugging off the T-shirt she’d slept in, she pulled on her bathing suit, grabbed a towel, and headed for the door, stopping only when she realized she was being watched.

  The kitten from hell lay on the floor, chewing a perfectly good leather flat, watching her from those laser blue eyes.

  “Hey,” she said. “Those are mine!”

  “Mew.”

  “I’ll ‘mew’ you.” Grabbing the ruined shoe from between his paws, she waggled it in his face. “This is a direct violation of the rules.”

  Unconcerned, he lifted a paw and began to wash his face.

  “Fine.” Giving up, she tossed down her shoe. “But I’m outta here.”

  At that, he stopped licking himself and looked at her.

  “Don’t even try to give me that look. I’ll be right back. Don’t destroy a thing while I’m gone, you hear me?”

  The spawn of Satan merely yawned.

  Stepping outside, she slammed her door closed. She turned away from the big house—Sam’s—which had 10,000 square feet of fancy rooms and fancy things that always made her feel like a bull in a china shop—and headed toward the beach. Del Mar was one of those awe-inspiring places where people spent far too much money on their houses in order to have this incredible view of blue, blue ocean and a sky so bright she needed her sunglasses to look at it.

  The other night haunted her, she could admit out here in the early day as she walked the pebbly path to the sand, with the fog kissing the beach. She didn’t like the way she and Griffin had parted, but she couldn’t figure out why it mattered. She’d told herself she had her own life to worry about.

  And yet today, her own life seemed…empty.

  The way she’d lived had been her own choice. She could have made changes along the way, but she hadn’t. Now she was alone on the beach as she’d wanted, and that worked too. No one to care about, no one to lose.

  With a restless sigh, she sat and hugged her knees to her chest.

  “Wow, look at that, you can relax.” Sam’s long legs appeared at her side. “Should take a picture of this,” he said. “No, wait, scratch the picture.” Hunkering at her side, he smiled into her face. “Because you’re the only person I know who can kick back while wearing such a fierce frown.” He sprawled his lanky body on the sand next to her and stretched out. “Oh, yeah, this is good. Should have been a beach bum.”

  With his shoulder-length, sun-streaked blond hair and a rangy build suggesting he was ten years younger than his thirty-five, he’d have made a good one. Plus she’d seen him surf after a long day in his office. He looked perfectly at home in the waves. Actually, he always looked at home.

  A feat she’d never managed. But then again she hadn’t been born bored, with a silver spoon in her mouth and more family than she knew what to do with.

  Sam hadn’t had many bumpy roads in his life, but he was one of those startlingly well adjusted people who just wanted to give back. And he did, in spades. He gave everything to Hope International, and all he asked for in return was the occasional hour to surf when the conditions suited him.

  She wished her life could be so simple.

  “What is it?” He cocked his head. “What’s making you so sad?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Well you’re something.” He nudged her shoulder with his. “You’ve been something ever since you came back from Mexico two days ago. What happened down there, anyway?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Uh huh.” He eyed her. “That was the most defensive nothing I’ve ever heard. Did you have a problem with the volunteer you flew down?”

  She stared at the waves. They were good today, four- to six-footers.

  “The firefighter…Griffin Moore, right?”

  A picture of Griffin crossed Lyndie’s vision: tall, gorgeous, and tortured. “I remember his name.”

  Sam cupped his hand to her jaw and made her look at him. “He try something?”

  “You know I have no problem punching their lights out if it comes to that.”

  “Did it?”

  “No.”

  Sam relaxed marginally but he was still watching her. “I had you scheduled to take a dentist down to San Puebla, but he canceled until next week. Now I’ve got you scheduled to fly a pediatrician and an optometrist to Baja tomorrow. Then you’ve got another trip back to San Puebla.”

  “With supplies?”

  “Some. The fire’s still contained, but there’s problems with the weather. They’re expecting trouble tomorrow when the winds are due to kick up.”

  She knew this. She’d called Tom every day to check. “Fine.”

  “Same guy is going down. He’s called several times checking on the statu
s of the fire. When he found out they needed help with the suppression, he said he’d go back.”

  She stared at the waves. So Griffin had offered to go back. Which meant she’d be seeing him again. No big deal, really. Maybe they’d shared a little more of themselves than they’d intended, but that was to be expected given the situation they’d found themselves in. Whenever adrenaline, adventure, and danger got all mixed up together, things got accelerated.

  And things had gotten accelerated.

  But they were adults. They could handle it.

  God, she hoped they could handle it.

  Sam was still looking at her. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  “It’s not in my job description.”

  “Screw the job description, Lyndie. I thought we were friends.”

  Not having many, she valued the few she had managed, by sheer good luck, to cultivate. “We are.”

  “Friends tell.”

  Lyndie sighed. “Fine. I kissed him.”

  He stared at her with his dark, dark brown eyes. And then he laughed. “You did not.”

  “I did.” She winced. “Look, we got caught up in this whole situation, okay? The fire was hot and dangerous and far too close. We were alone, together, afraid…”

  “Ah. The danger thing.” He nodded. “I know.”

  “You know?”

  “Hey, I flew for five years before I hired you.”

  “Right.” She sighed.

  “That bad?”

  No, that good. “I really don’t want to talk about this, and I sure as hell don’t want to see him again.”

  “No problem.” Joking aside now, he touched her arm. “I’ll get someone else to fly him.”

  “No,” she said too quickly, far too quickly, and Sam slowly lifted a brow. “I’ll do it, it’ll be fine.”

  “You just said you didn’t want to see him again—”

  “I also said I’d do it.” Surging to her feet, she dropped her towel and headed toward the waves. She needed a hard, fast swim.

  “Maybe I should come along on this one,” Sam said, appearing at her side as she walked to the water. “Just to make sure you don’t do something stupid.”