Free Wildfire by Cathie Linz Page B

policeman?” Amanda asked once they were back on the road. She recognized a kindred inner determination that told her Brady could have been anything he’d wanted, and she was curious about his motivations for staying in Deerfield.
    “No.” He reached for a pair of sunglasses hanging from the rearview mirror and slid them on before continuing. “When I was a kid I wanted to be an accountant.”
    Amanda cracked up. “Really?”
    “What do you think?” he tossed back.
    “That you’ve probably always wanted to be a cop.”
    “I suppose that might explain why I set up a detective agency in the back of the garage.”
    Amanda didn’t notice at the time, but Brady had adroitly succeeded in appearing to answer her question without actually doing so. “You had your own detective agency?”
    “Sure did. I must’ve fingerprinted everyone on the block, at least those I could get my hands on.”
    “What happened then?”
    “When I got my hands on them?”
    “No, what happened to the detective agency?”
    “My sister appropriated it when I entered high school and I discovered more stimulating things to do with my hands.”
    “I can imagine,” she remarked dryly.
    “Can you really?” Brady reached out to place a warm hand on the curve of her knee. “Why don’t you tell me about it?” he invited.
    “Because I’d rather you kept your mind on your driving and your hands on the wheel.” She lifted his hand and returned it to the steering column.
    Several hours, four beers, three bratwurst, and two hot pretzels later, they stood on Milwaukee’s lakeshore, admiring the view.
    “Thanks for bringing me.” Amanda’s voice drifted up from Brady’s shoulder, where she was resting her head. It was suddenly impressed upon her how compatible his height was with her’s. The placement of his shoulder was perfect for laying her head on, without having to crane her neck or stand on tiptoe. With a happy sigh she settled herself more comfortably against him and murmured, “I really had a good time.”
    “I’m glad.” His voice warmed her inside.
    “Did your beer taste as good as mine?” She lifted her head to question Brady with wonder. Her dark eyes reflected the lights along the lake as she stared up at him, awaiting his reply.
    Having never been subjected to the full force of her undivided attention, and already feeling besieged by her sexy body, Brady had to clear his throat before agreeing. “The beer was great.” He was beginning to have his doubts about the advisability of allowing her to drink those last two steins. Mandy was hard enough to handle when she was sober, she could be irresistible when tipsy.
    “I loved the folk dancers,” she dreamily continued as they turned and strolled back to the car. “And the brass bands. Do you remember the tuba player in that first-band?”
    Brady had to laugh at Amanda’s impersonation, puffed-out cheeks and all she was adorable, but definitely tipsy.
    They didn’t get back to Deerfield until after midnight. Luckily for Brady’s peace of mind, when Amanda fell asleep on the way home she snuggled against the vinyl upholstery instead of him. His thoughts were chaotic enough as it was. He couldn’t remember a day he’d enjoyed more. Today he’d seen another side of Amanda, a carefree side that he found captivating.
    When Brady brought the Mustang to a smooth stop in front of Amanda’s house, his hand reached out to gently shake her shoulder. “Mandy?”
    Her lids drowsily rose, and the darkened pools of her eyes blinked at him owlishly.
    “We’re home,” he explained.
    “Did I fall asleep?”
    “Yep. Come on, princess, before this coach turns into a pumpkin.”
    “What time is it?” she questioned bemusedly as he guided her to the front door.
    “After midnight.” Brady watched her fumble with the key before instructing her. “Here, you’d better let me do that.”
    Once the door was unlocked, he pushed it open and ushered her in. Amanda thought she