Into The Flames (Firehouse Fourteen Book 4) by Lisa B. Kamps

dangerous. He could be a murderous madman. She didn't know him, not at all. Why had she been so careless and agreed to go with him? He could take her anywhere. To a remote dirt road to kill her. To an abandoned warehouse to mutilate her body. To—wait, no he couldn't. She was driving. He couldn't take her anywhere, not unless he forced her to drive somewhere and he couldn't do that because she was driving.
    Unless he had a weapon of some sort. Unless he—
    She needed to stop. Just stop. She was overreacting, letting her imagination run wild as she usually did. Her father always cautioned her about those things, just as he cautioned her about choosing her words wisely and thinking before she spoke.
    Imagination was a wonderful gift, as long as it was used wisely. Like with her art. Imagining the man sitting next to her to be a murderous madman wasn't a wise use of her imagination. And calling him a Neanderthal probably wasn't choosing her words wisely.
    She took a deep breath and swerved in and out of the traffic. True, her passenger was still seething. He was putting off dangerous colors of scarlet and ebony, which perfectly matched the dangerous look on his face. But he wasn't a danger to her. Melanie was certain of that.
    Mostly.
    "I upset you, didn't I? I apologize. I didn't mean to." She glanced over at him, saw that his expression hadn't really changed yet. Well, maybe it had a little. He didn't look like was quite as anxious to throw her from the car any longer.
    "So what's with the Neanderthal thing? Why do you keep calling me that?"
    "Why do you keep calling me Smurfette?"
    "There's a big difference between a cute little cartoon character and an overgrown primitive ape-man."
    Cute? Had he said cute? Did that mean he thought she was cute? Sweets, she needed to stop being so silly and focus on what else he said. "I don't watch cartoons so I don't know what you're talking about. And you're not primitive. Not really. I mean, you don't drag your knuckles on the ground and carry a big club or beat your hairy chest and yell."
    "My chest is not hairy."
    "Yes, I noticed." And oh! Why had she just said that? Why had she admitted she had noticed? Not only noticed, but remembered? Heat filled her face, no doubt turning her skin an awful shade of red that clashed with her hair. She glanced over at him and her face flamed even hotter when she noticed his small grin.
    "So then why Neanderthal?"
    Why couldn't he just leave well enough alone? And why did he care? She didn't want to tell him, didn't want to admit to the little shiver of pure feminine delight that shot through her when she first met him. Yes, he had been rude—kind of—but it was much more than that and definitely more basic.
    She had been filled with a certainty that he had been a protector. Strong and capable and willing to go to any length to take care and protect those around him. Such a silly, silly observation, one that had come out the wrong way when she called him a Neanderthal. Just one more example of her not thinking before speaking. And there was no way she would ever tell him that. Never.
    Never ever.
    Melanie looked away, frowning, focusing hard on the traffic stopped at the light at the end of I83. "Which way do we go from here? I'm not sure where we're going."
    "You need to get in the right lane. Without hitting anyone, please."
    She shot him a dirty look then glanced in the side view mirror, waiting for a break in the heavy traffic. A spot opened up and she gunned it, darting out with a squeal of rubber. He grabbed the dashboard again and stared at her.
    "Je—" He stopped, his jaw clenched, then looked away. Turned and looked back at her. "Would you please stop doing that? I know we're out of my district now but that doesn't mean I want someone else to pick us up when you kill us."
    "I'm not going to kill us. I'm a perfectly safe driver." Melanie slammed the brakes as the car in front her stopped, jerking them both forward. She refused to look at