vehicle but from the sheer volume of her verbal diarrhea. She could not have shocked herself more if she’d stripped off her shirt and flashed him her boobies.
The car idled softly, accentuating the quietness between them.
“Are you okay?” Mason asked, his voice heavy with concern. He touched her again and there was no mistaking the intent this time—firmer, lingering, his thumb gently rubbing her knuckles.
Charlee jerked her hand away and looked into his face. She stared at his wide, generous mouth and found herself wondering if he was a good kisser. Startled, she focused her gaze on the road.
An odd twinge twisted through her. A strange mix of anxiety, gratitude, and uncertainty.
What in the hell was going on here?
You’re just worried about Maybelline. Remember, you’re highly susceptible to brown-eyed, handsome men. Nail your guard back up, pronto.
A second fire truck zoomed by and then a third.
Struggling to appear nonchalant, Charlee tugged her hand out from under Mason’s and slowly pulled the Corvette back into traffic. She smelled smoke in the air and the odor thickened the closer they came to the rundown apartment complex where her father lived.
By the time they turned onto her father’s block, Charlee’s heart hammered hard even before she spotted the flames licking brightly against the night sky. Dread weighed her down at the sight of firemen scurrying across the lawn with fire hoses and axes.
Apartment residents stood to one side staring owleyed as their homes flashed in a crescendo of sparks. Gawkers stopped to rubberneck.
From the corner of her eye, Charlee spied a white, four-door Chevy Malibu easing slowly down the street. She parked in the lot of a nearby dry cleaners and, without even thinking about Mason, climbed out of the car and beelined over to the small apartment complex.
Please let Elwood be okay,
she prayed.
She tried to approach one of the firemen, but he brusquely waved her off. A ruddy-faced police officer with a Boston accent came over to escort her across the street with the other bystanders.
“This way, miss.”
“My father,” she said. “He lives in apartment 16c.”
“Everyone’s been evacuated. There’ve been no casualties. If your father is here, he’ll be in the crowd. Now step aside.”
“What happened?” Charlee fisted her hands. “I have a right to know.”
“Step aside,” the policeman repeated with a stern frown.
The smoke, the fire, the heat, the noise, and the chaos overwhelmed her.
Dammit, Elwood, where are you?
She wanted to argue with the cop, to demand he tell her something more, but she couldn’t find her tongue. She simply stared at the dramatic flames scampering across the roof of the apartment building and she felt all the courage drain from her body.
“Excuse me, officer,” Mason interrupted. He moved closer to the man, lowered his head, and spoke so low Charlee couldn’t hear what he said.
What magic he wrought, she did not know, but a few minutes later he walked over and took her elbow. “Let’s go back to the car.”
“Why? I want to know what’s happening.”
“Just do as I say.”
“Listen here, Gentry…” Charlee balked, grateful to have someone to take her anxiety out on.
“Now is not the time to straddle your high horse. I’ve got unfortunate news.”
“What?” Her contrariness vanished. She gripped Mason’s forearm and imagined the worst.
“The fire originated in your father’s apartment.”
Charlee blinked. “Is he…hurt?”
Mason shook his head. “The apartment was empty when the firemen arrived.”
“Thank God.”
“They believe the fire was arson.”
“Arson?”
“I hate to tell you, but the police suspect your father intentionally started the blaze.”
Charlee sank into the chair in her office and forced herself not to bite her fingernails. She balled her hands into fists and dropped them into her lap. She absolutely refused to jump to conclusions about Elwood. Just because
The car idled softly, accentuating the quietness between them.
“Are you okay?” Mason asked, his voice heavy with concern. He touched her again and there was no mistaking the intent this time—firmer, lingering, his thumb gently rubbing her knuckles.
Charlee jerked her hand away and looked into his face. She stared at his wide, generous mouth and found herself wondering if he was a good kisser. Startled, she focused her gaze on the road.
An odd twinge twisted through her. A strange mix of anxiety, gratitude, and uncertainty.
What in the hell was going on here?
You’re just worried about Maybelline. Remember, you’re highly susceptible to brown-eyed, handsome men. Nail your guard back up, pronto.
A second fire truck zoomed by and then a third.
Struggling to appear nonchalant, Charlee tugged her hand out from under Mason’s and slowly pulled the Corvette back into traffic. She smelled smoke in the air and the odor thickened the closer they came to the rundown apartment complex where her father lived.
By the time they turned onto her father’s block, Charlee’s heart hammered hard even before she spotted the flames licking brightly against the night sky. Dread weighed her down at the sight of firemen scurrying across the lawn with fire hoses and axes.
Apartment residents stood to one side staring owleyed as their homes flashed in a crescendo of sparks. Gawkers stopped to rubberneck.
From the corner of her eye, Charlee spied a white, four-door Chevy Malibu easing slowly down the street. She parked in the lot of a nearby dry cleaners and, without even thinking about Mason, climbed out of the car and beelined over to the small apartment complex.
Please let Elwood be okay,
she prayed.
She tried to approach one of the firemen, but he brusquely waved her off. A ruddy-faced police officer with a Boston accent came over to escort her across the street with the other bystanders.
“This way, miss.”
“My father,” she said. “He lives in apartment 16c.”
“Everyone’s been evacuated. There’ve been no casualties. If your father is here, he’ll be in the crowd. Now step aside.”
“What happened?” Charlee fisted her hands. “I have a right to know.”
“Step aside,” the policeman repeated with a stern frown.
The smoke, the fire, the heat, the noise, and the chaos overwhelmed her.
Dammit, Elwood, where are you?
She wanted to argue with the cop, to demand he tell her something more, but she couldn’t find her tongue. She simply stared at the dramatic flames scampering across the roof of the apartment building and she felt all the courage drain from her body.
“Excuse me, officer,” Mason interrupted. He moved closer to the man, lowered his head, and spoke so low Charlee couldn’t hear what he said.
What magic he wrought, she did not know, but a few minutes later he walked over and took her elbow. “Let’s go back to the car.”
“Why? I want to know what’s happening.”
“Just do as I say.”
“Listen here, Gentry…” Charlee balked, grateful to have someone to take her anxiety out on.
“Now is not the time to straddle your high horse. I’ve got unfortunate news.”
“What?” Her contrariness vanished. She gripped Mason’s forearm and imagined the worst.
“The fire originated in your father’s apartment.”
Charlee blinked. “Is he…hurt?”
Mason shook his head. “The apartment was empty when the firemen arrived.”
“Thank God.”
“They believe the fire was arson.”
“Arson?”
“I hate to tell you, but the police suspect your father intentionally started the blaze.”
Charlee sank into the chair in her office and forced herself not to bite her fingernails. She balled her hands into fists and dropped them into her lap. She absolutely refused to jump to conclusions about Elwood. Just because
Similar Books
