Read Online Playing with Fire by Debra Dixon - Free Book Online Page A

patter. Does it keep people away? Keep them from figuring out how scared you are of intimacy?”
    Bull’s-eye.
    She recoiled even as she ground out, “Who died and appointed you Freud?”
    “That’s it, Maggie. You keep volleying those one-liners.” Beau nodded; the gesture was anything but approving. “Fire away. Quick, fast, and hard. Maybe if you keep busy enough, keep the focus off you long enough—Well, maybe the panic attacks will go away. Maybe the shadows will go away, too, and you can finally turn the lights off and get some sleep.”
    How did he know?
    Her voice quavering with anger, Maggie argued, “You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”
    “Oh, darlin’, I know more than you could possibly imagine about what’s going on in that pretty head of yours. I watched fear grab hold of you and shake you like a rag doll.”
    The air rushed out of Maggie’s lungs, and for once she couldn’t even pretend to be in control. He cut too close to the truth. Gwendolyn, unsettled by the edge in Beau’s voice, roused and got between them. She shoved Maggie back another step, offering moral support and protection.
    Maggie was grateful. The dog kept her from doing or saying something she’d regret. She left it at a simple denial and said in barely a whisper, “You don’t know anything about me.”
    “I know enough to know you’re hiding something from me.”
    “No, you don’t. You’re fishing, Beau.” God, how she wished that was true, but he was dead-on. Her bluff sounded lame even to her. “Go fish somewhere else. I’m not taking the bait.”
    “I did some fishing. I ran you, Maggie. In the computer. I ran you backward and forward.”
    Maggie said a silent prayer of thanks that juvenile records were sealed. With more confidence than she felt, she asked, “And?”
    “And nothing. No priors. No moving violations with the exception of two speeding tickets. No lawsuits—for or against. No marriage license recorded in this parish or the East Baton Rouge parish or any other around here.” He scanned the room and the clutter of books, a little disbelief creeping into his voice. “You don’t even have a library fine.”
    “But that still wasn’t enough to convince you.”
    “Sure it was. It convinced me you don’t get caught.”
    Maggie crossed her arms, trying to hold in the righteous rage that percolated inside her. “So you thought you’d come out here, bring the statement for cover, and snoop around. If a person invites you in, you don’t need a search warrant, do you?”
    For the first time he paused, weighing his words. He sighed, and said, “No, but that’s not—”
    “Liar.”
    “
You’re
calling me a liar?” Beau retorted. “Oh, that’s rich. That’s more than rich. That’s the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think, Maggie?”
    She kept her expression calm, but her heart sank. Heknew about the polygraph already.
He knew.
Even if she volunteered her past, it was too late. He’d never believe she was innocent. She had motive, opportunity, and a guilty conscience. At this point, her past was simply another nail in the coffin.
    “You have the polygraph results.” It was a statement, not a question, so she didn’t wait for confirmation. “Let me guess. Everyone passed with flying colors. Except me.
    Beau realized he’d revealed too much. Spinning away from her, he almost collided with Gwendolyn’s rump. The dog was just one more obstacle between Maggie and the world.
    What did it matter that she erected walls? he asked himself. She’s a suspect. She fit the profile. Women set fires for revenge. Small fires usually. Fires meant to deface, not destroy completely. That was the pattern, and Maggie’s hospital fire was right on target. Whether he wanted to believe his instincts or not.
    When he turned around, he was struck all over again by an incomprehensible fact—he still wanted her. The irony was perfect. Fate was probably rolling on the floor with