Wildfire by Cathie Linz Read Free Book Online Page B

down a few more notes before closing the pad. Why hadn’t she noticed before?
    “You’re left-handed!”
    “That’s right,” he acknowledged with what sounded like a small degree of defensiveness.
    Amanda couldn’t resist the temptation to tease him, as he so often did her. “No, that’s not right. That’s left . ” Her rose-tipped finger reached out to tap his other hand. “This one is right.”
    “So you do know your left from your right,” he said in apparent amazement.
    “Of course I do,” she returned.
    “Then you must have been deliberately playing around under my vest.” He grinned expectantly, anticipating her display of outrage.
    But Amanda wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice,
no matter how tempting it might be. Looking back on past encounters, she now realized that Brady deliberately made these outrageous statements to throw her off balance. This time it wouldn’t work.
    Determined not to rise to the bait, she studiously concentrated on his hands. So Brady was a southpaw, one of those unusually creative people who did things their own way. It figured; he conformed to no one’s rules but his own. While he might be infuriating and stubborn, Brady was also trustworthy, an old-fashioned word but applicable all the same.
    “You’re staring,” Brady scolded.
    “I’m sorry,” she automatically apologized.
    “I’ll forgive you if you’ll go out with me tonight.”
    Amanda lifted her gaze to the twinkling gleam in his eyes. “Are you sure you want to risk it?” she teased, abandoning her defensive pose and entering into the fray.
    His grin widened. “I like living dangerously.”
    The words were spoken lightly, but Amanda took them seriously. “Being a cop is already dangerous.”
    “So is working in a library with a pyromaniac on the loose,” he retorted. “Which reminds me, don’t get any ideas about doing a little investigating on your own.”
    Amanda was startled by his discerning astuteness. How had he known what she’d been thinking? The idea had only just occurred to her anyway. “Why not?” she countered.
    “ Because this isn’t a case for Nancy Drew.” Seeing the anger breaking in her eyes, he said quietly but resolutely, “I’m serious, Amanda. You let me do mywork and I’ll letyou get back to yours.” He strode across the room, tossing “I’ll pick you up at six” over his shoulder as he opened the door.
    “Hey, wait a minute!” She grabbed his arm to delay his departure. The muscles of his arm felt like warm steel beneath her fingers. Having successfully stopped him, she quickly released him. “I might have other plans for tonight.”
    “Do you?”
    Something in the directness of his gaze made her admit, “No.” Bob had wanted to take her out, after all, it was Friday night, but she’d turned him down, suddenly restless with his staid personality.
    “Then I’ll pick you up at six,” Brady repeated with an intimate smile.
    Her mutter of exasperation followed him down the hallway.
    Amanda was deliberately slow in preparing for their evening out. It would serve Brady right if he had to wait for her. She wasn’t about to bow to his bidding, to rearrange her schedule for his convenience. She handily ignored the fact that she hadn’t had anything else planned for the evening, and padded on wet, bare feet from the bathroom to her bedroom closet. It was only when she opened the pair of French doors that she realized she had no idea where Brady planned on taking her tonight, and consequently didn’t have a clue of what to wear.
    “Damn,” she muttered in irritation, impatiently sliding hangers along the metal rod, searching in vain for a perfect outfit, one that would be ideal for any situation. Glancing at the time displayed on her digital alarm clock, she realized that she’d have to find something quickly or else risk having to greet Brady in her present attire of a skimpy towel. It was almost six now.
    Since she went on to snag her last pair of