Hot Attraction. Lisa Childs
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be needed to relieve teams that had been on the job too long.
But tonight he had no excuse.
So he crossed Rick and Kim Pritchard’s porch to the front door. It stood open, allowing the evening breeze to blow through the screen door. Voices drifted outside through the mesh.
She was here.
Since he usually avoided the news, he hadn’t heard her voice that much until the afternoon at the Filling Station. But it was clear and full and grabbed one’s attention, making him want to listen to her, want to believe her. But Dawson knew better than to trust a reporter. She wasn’t really interested in him—in doing a special feature about him or kissing him. All she wanted was information about the fire.
And he wanted to know why...
Had the arsonist contacted her?
“I met Dawson today,” she said.
At the sound of his name on her lips—the luscious lips he’d so enjoyed kissing—his body tensed.
“Dawson?” a young voice repeated. “The Hotshot who saved us? He’s not busy fighting another fire?”
“He wasn’t today,” she replied.
“Maybe he’ll come by and see us,” the young voice said. “He said he would when he wasn’t busy.”
Guilt flashed through Dawson. He’d made that promise to them, just as he’d promised they would survive the fire. At least he’d kept the most important of his promises...
He had been busy, though—with the fires out West and with trying to determine who’d set the one in Northern Lakes. All of the Huron Hotshots had been on edge, waiting for the arsonist to strike again. They needed to stop him before that happened—before lives were lost.
He lifted his hand and knocked on the frame of the screen door. It rattled in the jamb.
“Someone’s here,” one of the twins said.
“Were you expecting anyone?” Avery asked, and her voice grew louder as she walked across the foyer to the door.
He’d thought she was hot before—in that blue dress. But in shorts and a tank top, the woman was nearly lethal. Her legs were even longer than he’d thought, her breasts even fuller. What would she look like in nothing at all?
His body hardened at the thought of finding out, and he barely managed to suppress a groan. Hotshots were on the front line of the fire, facing it head-on, so he was used to putting himself in danger. But he suspected he’d never been in as much danger as he was now—with Avery Kincaid.
Through the mesh her gaze met his, and her eyes widened in surprise.
“You weren’t expecting me,” he surmised.
She pushed open the screen door and uttered a small sigh—almost as if she were disappointed.
Hadn’t she been as into that kiss as he’d been? Or had those little moans just been an act, a way to seduce him into an interview? Even though he’d suspected as much, she wasn’t the only one who was disappointed now.
“I should have been expecting you,” she said. “Men usually don’t turn down—”
“Your kisses?” he interrupted. “So you were lying about getting turned down already today?”
“No,” she said. “But I wasn’t talking about my kisses—”
“Yuck,” one of the boys said as he joined his aunt at the front door. “Hey, Dawson!”
“Dawson!” the other boy exclaimed as he rushed out from whatever room was off the foyer—probably a living room.
Dawson released the breath he’d been holding over visiting them. He hadn’t known how they’d react—if seeing him again would bring the nightmare back for them. But they seemed genuinely happy to see him.
“Is she trying to kiss you, too?” the first boy asked.
A grin tugged at the corners of Dawson’s mouth. Now he knew who’d rejected her kisses earlier. Of course it hadn’t been a man. No red-blooded adult male would have been able to turn her down; he hadn’t been able to and he usually had enough self-control to resist temptation. He couldn’t believe he was actually attracted to a reporter. But after that kiss, he couldn’t deny the attraction was there—burning hot—making him want to kiss her again.
“Tell your mother Mr. Hess is here,” Avery told the boys.
One of them ran off to do her bidding while the other lingered.
“You, too,” she said.
“It doesn’t take both of us to tell her,” he argued petulantly.
Dawson chuckled and wriggled his eyebrows at the boy. “I think your aunt wants to be alone with me,” he said.
“Ewww,” the kid said. “Don’t let her kiss you!” As he turned to run away, Avery swatted his backside.
Dawson waited until the kid disappeared down the hall before asking, “Should I tell him his warning came too late?”
She glared at him. “You kissed me.”
Yes, he had. And he wanted to kiss her again. Unlike last time, he resisted the temptation. He had to keep a clear head around her, had to focus on finding out what she knew without giving away anything he knew.
“It was your idea,” he reminded her.
“Of a thank-you,” she said. “You must have decided to take me up on my other offer.”
“Offer?” Had she offered more than a kiss? Maybe that was what her moans had implied. That might be more temptation than he could resist.
“Of the special feature,” she clarified. “That’s why you’re here, right. You decided you wanted your fifteen minutes of fame.”
Was that why she had seemed disappointed?
“I thought that’s what you wanted,” he said. “To do a story about me.” He had no intention of letting her do one, but he was curious why she seemed to have changed her mind.
She drew in a quick breath and nodded. “Of course. That’s what I want—to tell the real story of the fire.”
Real story? As usual, Superintendent Zimmer had been right. She definitely knew more than they’d released to the media. How?
Dawson would have to find out—without giving anything away himself. It was a hell of a fine line to walk, but working a fire was like that, getting close enough to set up a break but not so close that the fire consumed you. Maybe that was the key to handling Avery Kincaid. He had to treat her like a fire. Try to contain her without being consumed by whatever was happening between them.
“Wyatt Andrews risked his life to save those campers,” he said. “That’s the real story.”
“So you’re not here because you changed your mind about the special feature?” she asked.
He shook his head.
Her beautiful eyes narrowed. “Then why are you here?”
Remembering what he’d heard through the screen door, he replied, “To see your nephews. I promised I’d come by when I wasn’t busy.”
Her eyes narrowed even more, and she opened her mouth. But she didn’t get a chance to speak before the boys were back with their mother close behind. He should have come by sooner to visit the twins. It was good to see them like this—happy and carefree. Not as they’d been that day when he’d zipped them into the shelter with him. Then they’d been shaking uncontrollably, overwhelmed with fear.
“Mr. Hess,” Kim Pritchard said. “Have you eaten? I’m just putting dinner away but I’d be happy to fix you a plate. There are plenty of leftovers.”