Feel the Heat Read online

  They walked farther. Alex seemed deep in thought and, despite her determination, Francey was wrestling strongly with her attraction to him.

  When they turned and headed back to the restaurant, he brushed against her accidentally, zinging even more awareness through her. “So, does this mean we can’t see each other at all?”

  “What do you mean?” Her voice was a little shaky, and she could feel herself weakening.

  He gave her an electrifying smile. “Maybe we could be friends.”

  She recalled his saying he’d made few friends since he’d come back from Boston. She studied him, looking for signs of deception. “You really don’t have many people to spend time with, do you?”

  He shook his head.

  “I don’t know, Alex. Seeing you still doesn’t sound like a good idea,” she repeated. Mostly to convince herself.

  “Afraid you can’t keep your hands off me?”

  Yes. “No, of course not”

  “Afraid I wouldn’t abide by the bargain?”

  She found herself getting caught up in his flirting like some naive schoolgirl. “Maybe.”

  He slapped his palm over his heart. “You wound me, Francesca.”

  “Oh, sure.”

  They strolled up the pier, around the restaurant and to his Porsche, their bodies grazing a few more times; once he put his hand protectively on her back. The sleek gray of his car sparkled under the restaurant lights. He opened the door and settled her in, even buckled her seat belt, then rounded the hood to the driver’s side. Once in the car, he glanced at the dashboard clock. “It’s early. Are you tired?

  “You’re kidding, right? I haven’t done anything for days.”

  He smiled. “I don’t live far from here. Come to my house with me. We’ll talk more about this. Set some ground rules you can live with.”

  She sighed.

  “If it doesn’t work being friends, we can always stop.

  What’s the harm in giving it a shot?” Somehow his little boy wheedling was endearing.

  The harm was clear in the coziness of his car, which smelled like expensive leather. In the dimness, his hair looked dark, and his long lashes were silhouetted against his cheek. “Okay. I’ll go to your house and we’ll talk. Maybe we can work something out.”

  He leaned over and brushed her cheek with his lips. “Good.”

  That was going to be one of the ground rules, Francey decided. No physical contact. She liked it far too much.

  Alex’s house fit him to a tee. Nestled on the lake, with a wide expanse of beachfront, the three-story, cedar-sided structure with one entire wall of glass faced the water. He led her into a spacious living room on the second floor, with overstuffed couches in front of the windows, stereo equipment off to the side and a glossy, high-tech, open kitchen in the back. The place could have been featured in Better Homes and Gardens.

  “This is beautiful, Alex.”

  “I love this house. It went up for sale when I returned to Rockford.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “Would you like some coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  “How about dessert?”

  She narrowed her eyes.

  “Did you plan this all along?”

  “What? To get you back here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes.”

  “At least you’re honest.”

  He sobered and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll always be honest with you, Francesca.”

  “Okay. Let’s make that rule number one.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Should I write these down?”

  “Not on my account. I’ll remember them.”

  “Like the Ten Commandments, I’ll bet,” he muttered under his breath. “Sit. I’ll get the food.”

  Dropping down on one of the plush, Indian-print couches, she listened to the sound of water lapping against rocks echoing to the house, creating a cozy atmosphere. She leaned back against the cushions, then removed her arm from the sling, rested it on the pillow and closed her eyes. She had to think about what she was doing. She couldn’t afford to kid herself or let Alex kid himself about what was happening. Trying to be friends was a bad idea, given the sexual attraction that sizzled between them.

  Then she told herself to relax. There was no reason she had to act on that attraction. Maybe he could just be a…diversion.

  “Sleepy?”

  Opening her eyes, she saw that he had set down a tray. The smell of flavored coffee—hazelnut—wafted up to her, reminding her of the dinner from the Rio. “No, just thinking.” She surveyed the dessert. Small shell-shaped pastries were mounded on a plate in a hill of chocolate.

  “Madeleines,” she said.

  “Huh?”

  “They’re called madeleines.”

  “Beautiful and smart.”

  “Rule number two, Alex. No flattery.”

  “I’ll try to control myself.”

  So will I.

  He poured her a mug of coffee. “Black, right?”

  “Are you kidding? Cream and three sugars.”

  His gaze raked her. “How do you stay so slender?”

  “I’m hardly a twig.”

  “Good. I don’t like twigs.”

  She discounted that remark. “I work out every day. Sometimes twice a day. And I have good genes.”

  His gaze dropped to her jeans. “Yes, you do.”

  “Rule number—”

  “—three,” he finished for her. “No sexual innuendo.”

  She frowned slightly. “No bad puns.”

  “That’ll have to be rule number four.” Alex sank onto the couch and tested his coffee, his eyes on her all the while.

  She reached for a pastry and took a bite. “Mmm, these are heaven.”

  He continued to stare at her. She looked at him like a stern schoolteacher about to scold a pupil.

  “Francesca, if rule number five is I can’t look at you, this will never work.”

  “Okay. You can look. But you can’t touch.”

  “Not even a friendly hug once in a while?”

  “We’ll see. Maybe.”

  “Does that cover everything?”

  “Not quite. What about women?”

  “Women?”

  “Are there any women in your life who might object to our friendship?”

  The ring of his doorbell precluded his answer.

  “Expecting someone?”

  He shook his head. “No. But my parents are treating me like I’m sixteen again. They’ve been stopping over to check on me. Maybe they’re here again. You could meet them.”

  “I’d like that.” Alex got up and crossed to the door. She stood, too, ready to greet the Templetons.

  When Alex pulled open the door, his mouth fell open.

  “Hello, Alex.”

  Francey froze.

  Framed by the high archway was a vision of loveliness. Shoulder-length blond hair that looked silvery in the moonlight. A pink light wool jacket with a delicate hood. Tailored pants and leather boots. All in all, the perfect complement to the way Alex was dressed. Francey resisted the urge to smooth her jeans and work shirt.

  For a moment, no one spoke.

  The woman’s gaze shifted beyond Alex and landed on Francey. She finally exclaimed, “Well, if it isn’t my sister, the firefighter!”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Alex pulled his Porsche into the driveway of Francesca’s house, an older home on a city street with a wide front yard and a white picket fence. Killing the engine, he turned to her. She was staring ahead, silhouetted in the light from the street lamp and deep in thought.

  “How long have you lived here?” he asked, nodding toward the two-story dwelling.

  She unbuckled her seat belt and faced him. “Since I got into the department. About eight years.”

  “Do you like living in the city?”

  “Yeah. There’s a lot going on within walking distance. Park Avenue’s close, with restaurants, shops
and activities in the summer. I also run in the park nearby.” She glanced at her home. “It’s close to Dad’s place and Nicky’s new apartment. And I have a yard for my dog.”

  “You have a dog?”

  “Uh-huh. A little white Maltese. Dad says he’s more of a toy than a dog, but he was abandoned near the station and I couldn’t resist adopting him.”

  Since she made no move to get out of the car, he decided to address Elise’s unwanted visit. After he’d gotten rid of the woman—rather abruptly—Francesca had grabbed her jacket and asked him to drive her home. Their easy camaraderie disappeared like mist on the lake. On the way back, they’d made stilted small talk.

  “I’m sorry if Elise upset you.”

  Francesca leaned back against the door and closed her eyes. “She always upsets me.”

  “Want to talk about why?”

  “There’s not much to say.” Her fingers twisted the cord at the bottom of her jacket.

  “If we’re going to be friends, Francesca, we should be able to confide in each other.”

  Peering over at him, her eyes were luminous in the light from the street lamp. “Do you really want that? To be friends? Or is your suggestion a come-on?”

  “If I can’t have any more, yes, I want that.” When he said the words, he realized they were true. He would give being buddies a shot. Right now she looked like she could use one. “How about you?”

  “Yeah, I guess I want to try.”

  “Okay, tell me about your sister.”

  Francesca grimaced as if she’d tasted something sour. “She’s not my sister.”

  “No?”

  “Diana married her father, Nathan Hathaway, when I was twelve and Elise was ten.”

  “But she looks like…” He trailed off.

  “Go ahead, you can finish. She looks like Diana. More than I do.”

  “Yes.”

  “Sometimes I think that freaked her out. Made her think she was Diana’s biological daughter and I was the interloper.”

  “Why would she think that?”

  “She hates me.”

  He waited, sensing Francesca needed to gather her thoughts.

  With a short huff of a sigh, she said, “You know, I don’t talk about this much. Not to anybody.”

  “Oh, well, then, I’ll be the friend you can discuss your mother with.”

  “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why Elise hates me. She was young when Diana married her father. Her own mother was dead, so she latched onto mine. I’d visited Diana often before she remarried, but afterward, Elise was so rotten to me that I made excuses and stopped going to New York. Since she and Diana came to live here, I’ve bumped into her at my brother Tony’s a couple of times. She treats me like dirt.”

  “Why did they come back to Rockford?”

  “Nathan Hathaway died over a year ago, and Diana wanted to move back home. As for Elise, apparently she was at loose ends after her failed marriage. She had no work experience, so she tagged along.”

  He nodded.

  Restless, Francesca shifted in the seat. “Now that Elise has the wrong impression about you and me, it’ll be worse.”

  “There’s nothing between Elise and me except some tennis games and a few drinks at the club.”

  Francesca sighed. “From what I witnessed tonight, she doesn’t see you that way. And bumping into me at your house will make her resent me even more.”

  “I’m sorry if I’ve caused you trouble.”

  “It’s not that. I was just making an observation.”

  He sighed, then touched her sleeve in a comforting gesture. “If seeing me, even as a friend, causes you problems, maybe that’s not best for you.”

  Francesca gazed at him, her eyes wide. “Thanks for thinking of me first, Alex. But I don’t let anybody run my life. Especially Elise.” She studied him for a moment. “I want to try being friends with you. If we can stick to the rules, that is.”

  “We can.” Again, he found that he meant the declaration. “I promise.”

  Her smile melted his heart. “So, if you’re not dating her, who are you dating?”

  “No one.”

  “Why?”

  He shook his head.

  “Come on. I shared. Fess up.”

  “You’ll think I’m arrogant.”

  “I already do.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  A smile tugged at her mouth. “We said we’d be honest.”

  “All right. Most of the women I know bore me. I did date in Boston, was even engaged after college. But nothing worked out.”

  “I was engaged, too. Right out of high school.”

  “Who was he?”

  “A guy I grew up with.”

  “Let me guess. He’s a firefighter, too.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then we have something in common. Broken engagements. No steady dates. Time on our hands. Looks like a perfect setup for a friendship.”

  “Maybe.” She grinned, then glanced at the house. “I’d better go in. Thanks for tonight. I had a good time. Before Elise.”

  He reached for his door handle. “I’ll see you to the door.”

  She stopped him with a firm grip on his arm. “No, this isn’t a date.”

  “Just to make sure you’re safe, then.”

  At first her features softened; she’d told him she was unused to people looking after her. Then she shook her head. “Are we forgetting who saved whose life, Mr. Templeton?”

  “God forbid.”

  She chuckled.

  “I’ll call you.”

  Pushing open the door, she threw him a wiseass grin. “Or I’ll call you.”

  Alex sat where he was and watched her dash to her house in a graceful, athletic jog, then take the porch steps two at a time to the front door. She dealt with the lock in seconds, despite her cast, then she went inside. She didn’t once look back. He wished she had.

  Thoughtful, he started the car but didn’t pull out of the driveway right away. Instead, he stared ahead, trying to be honest with himself.

  Did he mean what he’d said about being friends?

  Yes.

  Was he going to try to seduce her into more?

  He hoped not. He found that kind of dissembling unpalatable.

  Could he keep his hands off her?

  He’d sure as hell try. That was the best he could do.

  oOo

  Francey leaned against the rig as Adam checked the water tank. Her group at Quint/Midi Twelve had just arrived for the night shift, and they’d invited her to come in for dinner. Two weeks had passed since the accident, and she was going stir-crazy. The only good thing was that her arm had stopped hurting. Now her skin just itched like hell.

  “Any action last night?” she asked, smoothing her jeans and tugging at her red cotton shirt. She wasn’t used to being out of uniform here.

  “Two EMS runs, and a supposed gas leak at the Towers.” Francey smiled at the mention of the local senior citizens’ apartment complex, Dutch Towers, three blocks from the fire house. As happened in many stations, Quint/Midi Twelve was deluged with summonses from the elderly, who often overreacted to problems, got scared when little things went wrong or were just plain lonely. “Who called that one in?”

  “Sergio again.” Adam referred to one of the widowers who lived in a ground-floor apartment by himself. “It wouldn’t have been Mrs. Lowe. She knows Jake’s schedule.” He smiled indulgently at his mention of the old woman who seemed to need the fire department whenever Jake Scarlatta was on duty.

  “The captain have a talk with Sergio?”

  “Nah. When we got there, the old man looked so sad Ed didn’t have the heart. He set a time to come over and play a game of checkers with him, instead.”

  “You guys are saps.”

  “Yeah, look who’s talking. The last time you were on and Dutch Towers called us, you spent thirty minutes with Mr. Steed checking out birds with his binoculars.”

  “You all were
busy with the broken pipe. Nothing wrong with a little bird-watching. And it was a beautiful morning.”

  Francey felt strong hands grip her shoulders from behind. “Hi, gorgeous.” She turned to see Dylan grinning down at her. Though the other guys had gotten better at showing their affection for her, he was the only one in her group who touched her frequently. When women had joined the fire service, all firefighters had been given a crash course in sexual harassment and how to treat females in the station house. Like a rebellious schoolboy, Dylan ignored most of the suggestions about language and physical stuff, yet for some reason, his lack of caution made her the most comfortable with him.

  “Hi, buddy.”

  He sniffed. “Mmm, smell that. Peter’s outdoing himself tonight. Just for you.”

  “What’s he cooking?”

  “I don’t know. Smells like that fancy seafood dish again.” Dylan caught a glimpse of Adam trying to straighten a hose that had gotten twisted. “Let me help you with that.”

  As Francey watched the guys untangle the two-incher, she sniffed as heavenly scents reached the bay. They reminded her of another seafood dinner and Alex Templeton—whom she’d been seeing a lot of.

  First was the dinner at Schaller’s. The following Sunday, he’d taken her to a movie, a stupid cop show, and he’d teased her about the female police officer being the bad guy. He’d brought lunch over once—enough sweet and sour Chinese takeout to feed an army. The food had been delicious, and his visit had broken up her day, which seemed interminable. Last night he’d shown up with the latest George Clooney DVD along with popcorn and Pepsi.

  Everyone she knew was working or busy, and Alex had helped pass the hours. She hoped she was returning the favor by distracting him from the slow progress of the fire investigation. It seemed to him to be dragging out forever, but Francey was able to reassure him that these things took weeks or maybe even months.

  Every time she’d seen him, he’d been a perfect gentleman. Once or twice she’d catch him looking at her, something sexual shimmering in his eyes. But he’d banished the expression when he knew he’d been found out, so she guessed that was okay. Anyway, fair was fair—she found herself studying him with more than friendly appreciation, too.

  She loved the way he moved, with a loose-limbed confidence and easy grace. And he had a terrific smile. It crinkled the corners of his eyes and made his whole face light up. But she appreciated other things about him, too—his dry sense of humor, his interesting experiences, his work ethic.