Five Alarm Lust by Elise Whyles (reading cloud ebooks .TXT) 📗

went to bed. And if it helped to keep the nightmares at bay, well, it was just an extra little perk. Ripping into the burger and fries, she set to work cataloguing the latest arrival of fossils.

The jarring phone shattered the silence and pulled her from her work. She reached for the handset and hit the Talk button. “Hello?” She eyed the window and the streetlights beyond. Gillian blinked as the first one flickered and came on, her attention darting to the clock on the wall.

“Gillian, why am I not surprised to find you at home.” The cutting tone grated across her raw nerves. “You owe me for the cost of your dress.”

“It was cleaned, wasn’t it? I left it in your room for room service to pick up and clean.” Gillian swallowed against the rising bile. With a trembling hand, she pushed away the remains of her dinner and tucked her feet beneath her in an old habit she’d long given up avoiding.

“That is not the point, young lady. You ruined the dress, and who knows where your shoes went. Then you leave me at the hotel by myself. I was expecting you to be there when Lenny and I were departing for our honeymoon. I mean, you could have at least had the decency to inform us of your departure. We expected you at breakfast.” Barbara’s rant gained volume with each passing word. “I certainly hope you had fun. I’ll be sending the bill to you—”

Gillian closed her work for the night and straightened. “Mother, I didn’t agree to the wedding, it wasn’t something I desired to even attend. You picked the gown—” The hard knot only tightened the longer her mother’s voice droned on.

“Do not take that tone with me.” Barbara cut her off.

“Was there a reason for your call? I am rather busy. I’ve already said I’d pay for the cleaning of the dress. My shoes were, um.” Gilli vibrated with anger and guilt, her stomach twisting into a hard knot. Her dinner rolled and heaved, the urge to vomit growing stronger with each passing second.

“I will send you the bill for the damages.” Barbara sniffled. “As well, you should visit Michael. He’s a good man and you’d do well to remember—”

“I remember just how good he is every time I have a shower, mother. Every time I look in the mirror or catch a whiff of his cologne. Not to mention, I got a reminder this past year when he was up for parole and didn’t get it. You of all people should be supporting me. Should be backing me, and instead you’re siding with that fuckwad? The parole board called me, asking me to appear, and I went. I sat in the tiny room and listened to him go on about how he’s changed, and I felt sick. Don’t call me again, Mother, if all you’re going to go on about is that bastard. I detest him!”

“You think you’re going to find another man as good—?”

“Yes! And I fucked him until I could barely walk!” She slammed the phone down on the desk and turned the ringer off. Fury erupted and she stomped into the kitchen to get a glass of wine. Sitting on the couch, Gillian stared out the window. Tonight would be hell, unless she stayed up. Determination flooded her with resolve at the thought of what the darkness would hold if she fell asleep.

She hit the Power button on the stereo and huddled in the corner of the couch while the shadows grew until darkness spread across her floor. Rocking, she curled around a pillow, her eyes staring sightlessly out the window at the gathering shadows.

Chapter 6

Jack shouldered the pack and ducked around two young college kids on his way through the campus. He drowned out the annoying ranting of his partner and fingered his phone. Two weeks and at least a dozen attempts and he still couldn’t get the nerve to call her. Maybe it was the memory of waking alone, or the way she’d taken a bathrobe and her dress and left her shoes behind. Deep inside, he couldn’t shake the thought maybe it wasn’t anything she’d done, but rather the sound of the faint tears in the shower keeping him from calling her.

“This heat is killing me.”

“Brad, shut up.” His patience already worn thin, Jack tightened the grip on the handle of his bag and wished it was the young twit’s neck. “It’s not hot, you’re not in gear, and we’re almost there.”

“Still don’t understand why I have to do this. Why couldn’t Sally come or Joe, or one of the others…”

“Because it’s your job.” Jack stopped, swiveling his head to glare at the slightly pudgy young man. “You were hired to do the PR stuff, so shut up and do your job. All you’ve done is bitch all morning and I’m tired of it. You don’t want to be here, go back to the station.”

“Hey, man, don’t stress out about it. Geez, you’d think you were suffering from the heat.” Brad raised his hands in surrender. “It ain’t like I’m—”

“I mean it, Brad, don’t make me say it again or I will send you back to the shop.” Jack stomped a few strides away. He’d love to send Brad back to the firehouse, leave him there, and come back. He’d have more opportunity to get everything set up. As had happened too often, his mind drifted again. He needed to get answers and find out why he was so hung up on Gillian. Was she okay? Why had she run from their bed?

A slight smile curved his lips at the memory of her little gasps, her moans of pleasure. The shock in her eyes when she’d orgasmed had given him a thrill unlike any he’d ever known. His pleasure had been intense even before he’d come.

“Whoa, now there’s a frump if ever I saw one.” Brad snickered, his fingers fluttering in the direction they were walking.