Up In Flames (16 page)

“What news?” He rubbed his chin against her hair, spread his hand over her belly. He loved the feel of her, her softness, her sleekness. She was so feminine, but not in a frail way.

“A guy I know died. I just read it in the paper.”

Mick stiffened, caught between conflicting reactions. He wanted to comfort her from any upset, and he wanted to jealously demand information about the guy who’d made her cry. He must have been important to her to bring on the tears.

It shouldn’t have mattered. They’d only just officially met, and hadn’t officially consummated their relationship yet. But it did matter. A lot.

“Who was he?” Mick asked, keeping her pressed into him by his hand on her belly.

After a long, shuddering sigh, she put the spoon down and turned into his arms. Her face nuzzled into his chest and she whispered, “Just a guy who helped me with research.” He felt her wet cheek on his pec muscle and groaned.

“I’m sorta known for my research methods, you know,” she continued. “They’ve become part of my publicity.” She leaned back to stare up at him earnestly, and in case he hadn’t understood, she clarified. “For my books, I mean.”

“How is research a publicity stunt?”

She lifted one shoulder. “People are amazed by the strangest things. But whenever I write about something in a book, I try to experience it first so that I get it right. When I can’t experience it, I try to talk to someone who has.”

“So what type of research did this guy help you with?” Mick hoped like hell it wasn’t a love scene. He could handle anything but that.

Turning away, she reached for a napkin and mopped her eyes. Mick heard another loud sniff. “He was a small-time criminal. I had a scene in my book where a guy stole a car. I couldn’t really steal a car—” she glanced at him and added “—not without getting arrested, I’m sure.”

“Better not to try it,” he agreed, smiling.

“That’s what I figured. So I hired this guy, and he took me through all the ins and outs of car theft. For a criminal he was a really nice guy.”

Mick glanced at the coffeepot. “Mind if I have a cup?”

“Oh, of course.” But she didn’t let him get it himself. “Sit down and I’ll pour it for you.”

Since his knees were still shaking, Mick sat. More than most things, he hated being weak, and for now there was nothing he could do about it. He pulled out a chair at the black, wrought-iron parlor table and gratefully dropped into it.

“Cream or sugar?”

“Black, please.”

She set the steaming mug in front of him. His first sip made his body hair stand on end, and he nearly spat it back out. His throat raw, he rasped, “Damn, that’s strong.”

Delilah didn’t take his comment as a complaint. She smiled, looking adorable in her skimpy top and panties, her nose bright red. “I figured you being a man and all, you’d want it strong.”

It was a wonder new hair hadn’t sprouted on his body. He coughed, and because he didn’t want to hurt her feelings, he said, “I think I’ll take the cream and sugar, after all.”

She happily got them for him, then went back to the stove to check her sauce. To Mick, it looked like there was enough to feed an army. Hopefully, she didn’t expect him to eat it all—because he was a man.

Making sure she didn’t notice all the sugar he dumped into his coffee, he asked, “So where did a nice woman like you meet a car thief?”

“In prison.”

The mouthful of coffee—still too bitter to enjoy—got spewed across the table. He continued to choke as Delilah grabbed up a dish towel and patted his back.

“Mick! Are you all right?”

He wheezed, trying to regain his breath enough to speak. With his eyes squeezed shut, he finally demanded, “What the hell were you doing in prison?”

Tilting her head, she smiled. Given her swollen eyes and the tear tracks on her cheeks, it didn’t have the usual effect on his libido. “More research.” She chuckled. “You didn’t think I meant I’d been serving time, did you?”

Actually, he had, but he wasn’t dumb enough to say so. Relief warred with confusion. “Of course not. But can you explain all this research for me?”

She pulled out her own chair at the table. “Okay, but don’t let me forget the spaghetti sauce. Your friends are coming over for dinner and I want to impress them.”

“Josh and Zack?”

She snorted. “I meant your other friends, the ones you said were like family.”

“Dane and Angel are staying for dinner?” He didn’t like putting her out, especially since she was so upset.

“I invited them. Angel called and said she had your things, and wanted to know when it’d be a good time to drop them off. I know she’s still worried about you, and she doesn’t exactly trust me, so I thought this would be a way to make her feel better.”

Cautiously, Mick asked, “What makes you think Angel doesn’t trust you?”

Del made a face. “I’m not dumb.”

Mick let that go. He’d have to talk to Angel first to see what had been said. He knew Angel would never insult Delilah, but she was protective. “Why do you want to impress them?”

“They’re like your family. I like you, so of course I want them to like me.”

Mick almost told her it didn’t matter what anyone else thought, that he intended to make her a part of his life. But he’d never gotten so deeply involved with a woman, and to do so now, at Mach speed, was just plain foolish. He liked her, all her quirks and unique qualities. He liked her different way of viewing things and her outspokenness mixed with occasional glimpses of uncertainty. And God knew, the sexual chemistry between them was explosive.

But most of her background was still a mystery to him. So he forced himself to be cautious, to go slow. He tucked a tendril of her silky hair behind her ear and asked, “Are you sure you’re up to a dinner party?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? You’re the one who got shot.”

“
You
were the target. And you’ve been crying.”

She waved that away, ignoring his first comment and only responding to his second. “I’m overly emotional about the people I care for. There aren’t that many. Being a writer keeps me isolated, so I don’t get into the social swing of things often. Neddie became a friend as well as a teacher. We had a lot of fun hot-wiring my car.”

This time Mick just stared. She gave an impatient sigh and went on. “It’s true. We were alike in a lot of ways, reacting to our place in society. Neddie became a misguided criminal, just trying to fit in. I became a writer.”

“It’s hardly the same thing.”

“Of course not. I just meant that we understood each other. Neddie was wrong, and he knew that. But he always said he never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve to be hurt. Anything he did, he did among other criminals, including stealing cars. And from what he told me, I believe him.”

“Criminals always have excuses, Delilah.”

“Well, he was a nice criminal, okay? And very patient. We took my car to a deserted lot and practiced on it for hours. Once I got the hang of it, Neddie timed me.”

Mick’s left hand, resting on the tabletop, curled into a fist. “You went to a deserted lot with a convict?”

“Can you imagine how the cops might have reacted if they’d seen me hot-wiring a car around here?”

She needed a keeper.
She needed him.
He drew a calming breath, something he found himself doing often around her. “Back up and tell me what you were doing in prison.”

“I had a character in a book who had spent a good portion of his life in prison. I couldn’t very well write that without knowing what the inside of a prison was really like.”

“Ever heard of research books?” he asked dryly.

She laughed. Though he knew her humor was aimed at him, he was glad to see her mood lightening. “I use research books when I have to. But I think it’s always better to get firsthand, in-person information whenever I can.”

“You said that’s part of your promotion?”

“Yep. It didn’t start out that way. But then this one reporter got wind of it when my last book hit the
New York Times
bestseller list. She interviewed me and asked me all kinds of questions about my research, and since then the media is real accommodating. They always make a fuss about my way of researching.”

His head throbbed. “Media?”

“Yeah. Silly, huh?”

His tongue felt on fire as he sputtered, “You’re a celebrity.”

Delilah wrinkled her nose and with a note of dismissal said, “To some people, I guess.”

“You do this often?”

She shrugged. “Often enough. I was on a talk show once, and not too long ago I got featured on the news.”

“The news?”

“About my newest book, and my research for it. It was fun.”

In that moment, a thousand questions went through his mind. What the hell was a celebrity doing living in this neighborhood? How much money could she possibly make and what other types of research had she done?

Could any of that have to do with the incident at the jewelry store?

Before he could start on his interrogation, and that’s what it would have been because he fully intended to get a lot of answers, she said, “We better get a move on. Everyone will be showing up in about half an hour. I still need to shower and change and make the bed and boil the spaghetti and fix a salad—”

Mick caught her hand as she rose. He tugged her between his legs. “I can help.”

This time her laughter had the desired effect. He got hard as a stone. “Mick,” she said playfully, and cupped his neck in both hands. “I think I can handle a shower on my own.”

Damn, that brought an irresistible image to his mind. Delilah naked and wet, water streaming down her body, over her belly and between her thighs....

He released her hand and curled his arm around her waist, keeping her close when she tried to impatiently edge away. “I meant,” he said, his voice now hoarse, “that I can handle spaghetti or a salad.”

“No,” she said in that unrelenting tone he already recognized. Delilah was used to making all the decisions, and used to holding her ground.

He’d have to work on that flaw.

She leaned down and quickly kissed him. “Not one-armed, you can’t, and the doc specifically said you shouldn’t use your right arm.”

Mick was ready to explain a few things to her, but she added, her voice sweet and cajoling, “Please, Mick. Just let me take care of you, okay?”

He opened his hand on the small of her back, then slipped it down her spine to her bottom. He filled his palm with one firm cheek. “All right,” he agreed. “But on one condition.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Tonight, after everyone is gone...” He let his fingers drift lower, pressing in to touch the heat of her, pleased with her gasp and small moan. “Tonight you’ll let me show you exactly what I
can
do with one good arm.”

Breathless, she said, “Sex is—”

“I know, not on the agenda.” His fingers caressed her. “But I can return your favor of today.”

Her lips parted, her eyes glittered and her cheeks looked warm. Several heartbeats went by, then she whispered, “Yes, okay.”

Mick felt like a conquering warrior now that she’d given in to him at least a little. He grinned and smacked her butt. “I’m glad you can see reason. Now go get your shower. I’ll pull on my jeans and park myself in front of the TV.”

“And you won’t lift a finger?”

He stood, kissed her forehead and replied, “Not until tonight.”

With a comical look on her face, she turned the sauce down to warm and left the room. Mick flexed his aching shoulder, winced and decided to make a fresh pot of coffee while Delilah was otherwise occupied. He could only imagine Dane’s expression if he took a gulp of that thick, bitter brew. It would probably prove amusing, but then Mick would have to drink it, too, which would negate all the fun.

So far, her coffee, her air-conditioning and her lack of discretion in dangerous situations were the only things he had trouble with. Those things aside, Delilah Piper was one hell of a woman. With each passing minute, he fell a little harder.

CHAPTER SIX

It turned out to be a hectic evening, and Delilah was glad to see it winding down. Not only had Dane and Angel come to dinner, but Alec and Celia had called, and she’d invited them along. She figured she might as well get the family gathering over with. She was used to people not understanding her, to assumptions that her preoccupation with her stories was sheer daydreaming, motivated by lack of intelligence or attention.

She wasn’t used to caring, to going out of her way to be accepted, and she’d felt on edge. Added to that was her urge to write. She had a deadline looming, and her mind kept wandering to her story.

Then Zack had dropped in with his four-year-old daughter, Dani. She was about the cutest thing Delilah had ever seen, and strangely enough, writing took second place to other thoughts. Dani had blue eyes like her father’s, but her hair was blond and curly, and she had dimples when she smiled.

It took only a moment for Del to see that the little girl adored Mick. With her father’s admonition to be careful of Mick’s injury, she’d rushed to him, climbed into his lap and kissed his cheek as if he were a favorite uncle. Then she’d given him three more kisses to “make him all better.” Mick had claimed to feel much improved on the spot, which prompted Dani into giggles.

Something about seeing Mick with a little girl in his arms made Del’s heart swell. It was an incongruous sight, Mick so strong and darkly handsome, holding such a delicate, fair child. But it also looked very right, as if Mick were made to be a father.

Del frowned at that. Their relationship, started only a day before, hardly warranted thoughts of parenthood. She shook off the strange aberration and concentrated on being a perfect host.

She wasn’t used to entertaining and she definitely wasn’t used to so much company. But she didn’t resent the intrusion on her writing time. In fact, it was all really nice.

During dinner, Josh phoned, and minutes later another man called for Mick, though he didn’t introduce himself and Mick didn’t tell her who it was. During his whispered conversation, she saw Alec and Dane share a look.

Her small apartment felt like Grand Central Station. Celia kept watching her closely, as if she was waiting for something, though Delilah had no idea what. Both she and Angel were cautiously nice.

Other than Mick, Del hadn’t entertained a man in ages. And she’d never entertained a man’s family before now. She had no idea if she was doing things right.

Mick caught her alone in the kitchen getting ready to make more coffee. He wore the sling again, but he still managed to drag her close for a kiss.

“Dinner was great.”

He sounded sincere, and she smiled against his mouth. “Thank you.” It had been a guessing game, trying to figure out how much sauce and spaghetti to make. After she’d done her best calculation, she’d doubled it for good measure. And that was a good thing, because the men had eaten far more than she’d ever anticipated. “Everyone is so nice. I like them.”

“Even Zack?”

“His daughter is wonderful.”

Mick laughed at that careful evasion. “You still holding a grudge?”

That sounded infantile, so she shook her head. “No, of course not. I understand why they were so protective of you.”

“They were protective of
you,
Delilah.”

She didn’t agree, but saw no point in arguing. “I suppose for Zack to have such a sweet daughter, he must be a good father.”

“He is that.” Mick stroked her hair, then added, “Zack likes you. He told me so.”

Staring at his chest, Del asked, “What about the others?”

He tipped up her chin. “Angel is cautious because I don’t normally get involved with women.”

Del wasn’t at all certain she understood that. “You’re not a virgin.”

He choked on a laugh. “No.”

“Then what do you mean—”

“I mean I’m real choosy. I already told you that, right?”

“The same is true for me, but maybe for different reasons. I’ve never had much time for men.”

“You’re making time for me.”

There was no denying that. But Mick was...different. Well worth any effort.

“And,” he added, still explaining Angel’s reserve, “we’ve been moving pretty fast.”

Delilah chewed over that obvious bit of information. “She’s afraid I’ll hurt you.”

His eyes warmed, and his hand on her cheek was so gentle. “She’s afraid you could, and that’s a first.” He kissed her again. Then once more. “Damn, I have to quit that or they’ll wonder what we’re doing in here.”

She didn’t want him to quit. “We’re just kissing.”

“I want to do a lot more.”

So did she. “Tonight, I wouldn’t mind—”

His hold tightened. “Tonight,” he growled, “it’s your turn.”

Her heart tripped. She was still aroused from the afternoon. She’d been aroused since the second she saw Mick in that hospital bed.

Knowing he wanted to touch her and...do things to her made her whole body feel tight and too hot and somehow empty. Sighing shakily, she said, “All right.”

“An agreeable woman,” he teased, and took her mouth with a kiss that curled her toes and made her breasts tingle.

A knock sounded on the wall behind them. Mick lifted his head and turned.

Del groaned, then went on tiptoe to peek over his shoulder. Celia stood there smiling. Alec stood next to her, looking amused.

“I—I was just about to make more coffee,” Del stammered.

“Why don’t you let Alec do that?” Mick suggested, putting his good arm around her shoulder.

That idea didn’t sit right. “But he’s a guest.”

Alec raised a brow and gave Mick a curious glance. “I don’t mind. Coffee is my specialty. Besides, I think my wife is dying to ask you something.”

Celia elbowed him, then stepped closer. She looked anxious, her hands clasped together, and she kept glancing from Del to Mick and back again. Finally she blurted, “Are you
the
Delilah Piper? I mean, I saw some books on your shelves and I know it seems crazy, but...”

Mick looked at Del with surprise, and Celia stood there holding her breath. “That’s me,” Del said.

Mick frowned. “You’ve heard of her, Celia?”

“Are you kidding? She’s fabulous! One of my favorite authors.”

That got Del’s attention. “Thank you. You’ve read me?”

Celia rushed closer. “Each and every one. Ohmigosh, that last one had me on the edge of my seat. When the car went off the bridge into that river...” She shivered, as if remembering the scene.

“I did that, you know,” Del told her. When Celia stared wide-eyed, Del nodded. “It’s true. Of course, I took some lessons first, so I wouldn’t drown myself, but then we found this old bridge that no one uses anymore, and the instructor and I took the car right off the side.”

Beside her, Mick growled, “What the hell are you talking about?”

And in an awed whisper, Celia said, “Angel didn’t believe me that it was you. I mean, that you’re the author who really did all those things.”

“The coffee will be done in a minute,” Alec said, interrupting another angry outburst from Mick. “Why don’t we go back in the living room and Celia can grill you like I know she’s dying to?”

Del loved talking about her work, and she allowed herself to be tugged into the room. Mick held her hand tight, and as soon as her backside found a couch cushion, he demanded, “What the hell do you mean, you drove your car off a bridge?”

Angel gasped. “Then it’s true? It’s really you?”

Mick didn’t give her a chance to answer. “Delilah, what’s going on? What are they talking about?”

“You don’t know?” Alec asked, then shared a look with Dane. To Del, all those shared looks felt like a conspiracy. Regardless of her attempts, she was still an outsider in their group.

“Know what?” Mick’s gaze narrowed on Del, dark and almost...predatory. A hush fell, everyone watching with expectation.

Del turned in her seat to face Mick, unsure of his sudden change in mood. He sounded angry for some reason, and he looked more than a little disturbed.

Maybe he needed another pain pill, though he kept refusing them. “I explained how I do my research, and about the interviews, Mick.”

“You said you visited a prison, not that you drove your car into a river.”

She took exception to his tone, especially in front of their guests. She wanted the visit to go well, not be ruined by an argument.

Attempting to sound reasonable in the face of his growing ire, she explained, “I knew what I was doing. I took diving lessons and a class that teaches you how to keep from panicking. I learned all kinds of neat things. You see, under murky river water you sometimes get disoriented because it’s so dark.” She shivered. “Really nasty, if you want the truth. But if you let out just a little of your breath, the bubbles will rise and show you the way to the surface.”

Mick groaned.

“Also, if you stay calm, your heartbeat is slower and you use less oxygen, so you can hold your breath longer. I wasn’t very good at that part of it, though. I couldn’t hold my breath long at all. Still, it was pretty exciting to—”

“Drive your car,” Mick rasped in an ominous voice, “deliberately off a bridge?”

Del frowned. Unlike Angel and Celia, Mick didn’t seem at all impressed with her career. Not that she expected or needed him to be impressed. In fact, it was kind of refreshing that he didn’t seem in awe.

She was used to a variety of reactions, most of them gushing, some fascinated, even disbelieving. But not angry. That was a reaction she’d never encountered. “It was kind of neat.”

“Neat?”

That one word held a wealth of scorn and incredulity. Del lost her temper, too. “I may have done a lot of...eccentric things, but it’s my life and I can damn well—”

“What other eccentric things?” he demanded. “What else have you done?”

She heard Dane mutter something, and Alec chuckle in return. Those two seemed to find everything amusing, and this time Del had the distinct impression they were laughing at her, or rather her predicament.

Indignant, she gave them each a look of censure, not that it had any visible effect; Dane winked at her, and Alec continued to smile.
Men,
she thought, and decided to ignore their misplaced humor.

Though her heart hurt and embarrassment threatened, Del stood and walked to her bookcase. She pulled out her first book and addressed the women, while deliberately disregarding the men—Mick especially. “For this story I learned skydiving.”

“I’ve always wanted to try that,” Dane admitted.

Despite her resolve to ignore him, Del glanced his way. “I learned how to do it without a chute. Another jumper passed me one in midair.”

Mick closed his eyes and groaned. He definitely sounded in pain this time.

“For heaven’s sake,” Del said, thoroughly exasperated. “I
had
a chute! I just pretended I didn’t. And there were plenty of other people jumping with me, trained for that sort of thing. Rescue jumpers were there in case something went wrong. Besides, we practiced a lot first in simulated jumps before I actually did it.”

Angel piped up and said, “I remember the villain in that book had to steal a chute off another man. That man almost died, but being the male protagonist, he didn’t.”

“I never kill the male leads.” She looked at Mick. “That would ruin the romance aspect of the books.”

He groaned again.

Celia, like a true adventurer at heart, asked, “Did you take a chute off someone else?”

Alec immediately hauled her to his side and wrapped his brawny arm around her shoulders. “Don’t even think it,” he warned, and he looked deadly serious, his expression fierce. Celia just smiled.

“I didn’t want to go that far,” Del said, a little distracted. It fascinated her the way Celia and Alec interacted. He looked so savage, so menacing, yet Celia wasn’t the least threatened by him. Just the opposite; Celia cuddled closer. “I learned how to put a chute on in the air.”

Mick bolted to his feet. He looked ready for a full-fledged rage. The only other time she’d seen him like that was the day of the robbery, when he’d rolled to his feet after being shot, and raced out the door. That day his eyes had been nearly black with rage—as they were now. His jaw had been clenched tight, too—as it was now.

She wasn’t quite sure what to make of him.

Lifting her chin, Del pulled another book off the shelf. “In this one, I learned how to navigate through an underwater cave.”

“That was the creepiest scene,” Celia whispered. “There were sharks and poisonous snakes. It gave me nightmares.” Then she added, “It was also my favorite book.”

Del went to her desk, pulled out a pen and signed both books. She handed one to Celia and one to Angel. “Here, a gift.”

Celia clutched the book to her chest. For a long moment she was speechless, then she blurted, “Thank you!”

Angel looked amazed. “You don’t have to do this.”

Del shrugged. “I get some copies for my own use.” She hoped to change the subject so Mick would quit scowling. It didn’t work.

Attempting a relationship was hard work. Now she remembered why she’d never much bothered. Of course, that was before Mick, with guys who were easy to dismiss.

She couldn’t dismiss Mick.

Angel scooted to the edge of her seat. “Where do you get your ideas?”

She’d been waiting for that question; without fail, it always got asked. She smiled, then for almost half an hour answered questions and explained about her work and laughed and had fun. Mick didn’t appreciate hearing about her research techniques, but the women, especially Celia, hung on her every word.

When Del admitted that she had a looming deadline and intended to put in a few hours of writing that night, Alec pushed to his feet. “We need to be heading home. It’s getting late and Celia—” he gave his wife a cautious look “—is getting ideas.”

Dane also stood, saying in an aside to Del, “Alec is a worrier.”

Del looked at the big dark Alec, towering protectively over his petite blond wife. He looked like a marauder, not a worrier. “If you say so.”

Angel leaned against Dane and sighed. “We’ll let you get to your work.”

Del blushed. “I didn’t mean to run everyone off.”