by Bella Andre
"Honestly"--Patrick rubbed one hand against his chin--"I don't know if she should be out investigating fires. Not until she gets over what happened to her brother. If she can."
Logan found himself wondering the same thing. But something told him he and Maya weren't that different. And if he was standing in her shoes, he'd be doing the same damn thing.
"She's doing what she's got to do," he said in reply. "You or I wouldn't walk away from our jobs after losing a brother. Neither will she."
Patrick grunted his agreement and Logan thanked him for the information, then grabbed a flashlight off a nearby truck, not bothering to turn it on as he headed off to locate Maya. Anger had fueled him from the moment she'd uttered the word "suspension" until they'd heard about the motel fire on his radio. But now that she'd been the target of an arsonist--and especially given what had happened to her brother--he couldn't sustain his rage.
Not even in the face of a brutal suspension.
He found her sitting in the sand, facing the lake. She looked small and forlorn, her arms wrapped around her legs.
Instinctively, he wanted to take her in his arms. She had to be frightened. Anyone would be after reading that note. But he knew she would never accept comfort from him, not when they were still standing on opposite sides of the fire.
Somehow, he had to get them on the same side.
He clicked the flashlight on and waved it over her head in warning. She jumped up and spun around, sand flying out from beneath her feet.
Her hand flew over her chest and he instantly regretted startling her. Especially on the heels of her motel room being firebombed by someone who was into leaving threatening notes.
"Leave me alone, Mr. Cain."
"I'm sorry about your brother."
Surprise moved across her face, but she quickly shut it down.
"You always feel sorry for your investigator?" she said, twisting his earlier words around. "Interesting strategy."
Logan appreciated where she was coming from. Hell, an hour ago he was pushing her away. But knowing about what had happened to her brother had changed everything.
"That's why you were here six months ago. That's why you came to the bar." He paused, moved a step closer to her. "That's what was wrong. Why you cried."
Her head was bent and he couldn't see her face.
"I miss him so damn much. Every day. He hadn't even been in Tahoe a year."
She looked up at him and there weren't any tears on her face, but grief overwhelmed her beautiful features.
"I won't rest until I find the arsonist who killed him."
"If I were you," Logan said in a quiet voice, "I'd feel the same way. I'd be here doing the same thing, tracking down every lead."
Her mouth twisted as if she'd tasted something sour. "You were my one mistake. God, I wish I'd never met you."
"Ouch."
And yet, he got where she was coming from. No one wanted to be reminded of their fuckups. No matter how unintentional.
"Putting arsonists behind bars is the only thing that matters anymore."
He had to ask. "What about your friends? The rest of your family?"
She gave him a strange look. "What are you, some kind of mind reader?"
He took another small step toward her, wanting to get closer without scaring her away.
"No, why would you say that?"
"It's crazy, but I was just thinking about ..." Her words fell away and she looked at him again, almost as if she were seeing him for the first time. "I can't be telling you these things. I shouldn't be talking to you at all."
But he wanted to keep their dialogue going, wanted to feel out their strange connection and see if there was something to it.
"I only met your brother once, very briefly. I wish I'd known him better. That I had stories to tell you."
"I don't want to talk about him."
But he didn't believe her. "I'd be happy to talk to the guys I know in town, find out if there was anything weird going on the night he--" He cut himself off just in time.
She stared at him in surprise. Or maybe it was anger. "I know you're not deaf. I know you heard me tell you to drop it. What the hell are you playing at?"
He held up his hands. "Nothing. I swear. I just wanted you to know that I understand how you're feeling. How hard it is to lose someone like that, so suddenly."
If looks could kill, she'd have struck him dead right then. "You don't know the first thing about me. And you don't have any idea what it's like to lose someone like that."
She was wrong. He did.
"My first year on the crew, I was partnered up with Kenny so he could show me the ropes. He'd been doing this longer than I'd been alive, had fought wildfires I couldn't even imagine and come out on the other side still grinning. And then one day, we were out cutting line on a small fire when a lightning storm kicked up. He was dead before I even realized what happened." He held her gaze. "I know I'm your lead suspect. That this is your investigation and you've got to do your job. But I still want you to know that I'm very sorry about your brother."
Maya took a deep breath then said, "Your condolences don't change the fact I didn't meet another soul in Tahoe after ... after meeting you in the bar. And whoever wrote that note met me exactly six months ago."
"Gary and I talked for several minutes after you snuck away," he said, and her cheeks flushed as he continued. "I went straight to Joseph's cabin from the station. There's no way I could have lit your room on fire. Not without a can of lighter fluid and a match--and a key to your room."
Logan hadn't spent this much time defending himself since he was seventeen--and guilty as charged. This time things were different.
He was innocent.
"Feel free to search my truck. You and I both know you won't find anything. And I'd never scare a woman like that. Not with a fire. Not with a creepy little note. If I wanted to have it out with you, I'd do it here. Now. Face-to-face. Give you a chance to fight back."
"You don't scare me, Mr. Cain."
Her chest rose and fell quickly as she held her ground, her high cheekbones and slightly slanted eyes stunning in the moonlight.
And even though she had it in for him, he admired the way she lied to him. She was tough. Smart. And so damn sexy that even as they mentally squared off against each other, his body wouldn't let him keep a safe distance.
"Whoever wrote that note is wrong, Maya. You're not pretty."
The words found their way from his brain to his mouth before he could stop them, and her mouth opened in surprise.
"You're beautiful. I never forgot you, never forgot the way you tasted, how sexy you were."
He was close enough now for her to sway into him, and he caught her, dragging her luscious curves against him. He slid one hand into her hair, cradling her scalp. She was shaken, and although he hadn't convinced her that he was innocent, he wanted to protect her all the same.
He lowered his mouth to hers, and her lips were softer, sweeter than he remembered. He'd never met a woman with so much passion buried deep inside of her. Within seconds she proved him right, her kiss angry and hard, then seductive and teasing. He wanted to know all of the things that pleased her, uncover all of her secrets.
With nothing more than a kiss, she held him captive as no other woman had.
Six months fell away and it was as if they were back in his friend's bar with her fingers grasping his shoulders and his hands moving down past her waist to cup her incredible ass.
Only now she didn't think he was an innocent man.
"I didn't do this," he whispered against her lips. "I would never hurt you."
She pushed him away with all her might, her eyes blazing with heat. She wanted him. He was sure of it. But she was afraid to trust him. And then she blinked, and when she looked at him again he saw ice where there had been desperate need.
"Don't touch me again." She wiped away his kiss with the back of her hand. "And you should know that I called my boss. I told him ever
ything."
Strangely, disappointment hit him square in the chest. She'd probably be gone by tomorrow. He should be glad to see her go, but he wasn't.
"So, when's he sending in the new guy?"
"Surprise. He didn't care. You're still stuck with me. Now get out of my way before I call the cops."
Logan stepped to one side and let her go even though he wanted to grab her and kiss her over and over until she forgot about the letter, about her things going up in smoke. Until she believed him when he said he was innocent.
Instead, he was going to head back up into Desolation Wilderness on the trails behind Joseph's house and cover the same ground he'd gone over a dozen times during the past two weeks, to make sure there weren't any new fires to put out.
An hour later, Maya sat on a faded bedspread in a motel two blocks away from her old one, trying to forget Logan's kiss--and the way his gentle touch had pierced straight through her heart. Forbidden yearning tore at every last one of her principles, straining them to the breaking point.
Her years as an arson investigator should be giving her a window into Logan's life as a potential firefighter-turned-arsonist. And yet, she could only see him through a woman's eyes, as a man who knew how to give her everything she desired.
But it was more than his kisses that drew her to him. Everything he'd said about her brother had been sincere. Even his surprising offer to help her look into the apartment fire that had killed Tony.
She hadn't let anyone in that close since Tony's death. But Logan hadn't waited for her to open the door. He'd walked inside before she even realized what had happened and got her talking about her brother and how much she missed him.
A loud bang from the parking lot startled her and she jumped off the bed. Her conversation--and her kiss-- with Logan had taken up so much space in her head that she'd almost forgotten not only the fire in her room, but the horrible note someone had left for her in the firebox. It hit her anew that she was in danger, and her heart raced while she prepared herself to fight an unknown predator, hands up, legs braced apart.
Seconds crept by as she waited for someone to crash through the door. But the only sounds that followed were the TV turning on next door and a toilet flushing. She sat down hard on the edge of the bed, taking a couple of deep breaths as she waited for her heartbeat to return to normal. Someone had slammed their car door or started up a rusty engine and she'd just about lost it.
That's what she got for romanticizing her suspect and taking her eye off the ball for even one second. Work. She needed to get back to work.
First, she called the rental car agency, but their outgoing message said they'd closed for the night and wouldn't reopen until 10 A.M. She was supposed to meet a helicopter pilot at the local airstrip at 6 A.M., but without a car she had no way to get there.
She fished around in her bag for the emergency contact number for the Flights of Fancy pilot. The receptionist she'd spoken to that morning had told her to call if there were any changes in her schedule. Five minutes later, she'd worked out the details with a guy named Dennis. He'd come pick her up at her motel and drop her off when they were done.
Putting down the phone, she looked up and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror above the dresser. She lifted a hand to her disheveled hair. Her suit was sandy and covered with soot. She looked like she'd been in a war zone. She could easily buy a comb and fix her hair, but because her suitcase had been destroyed in the fire, changing into clean clothes wouldn't be quite so easy.
Again, she was struck by a deep sense of violation, even though she'd only lost one piece of luggage and her computer; and it was a strange feeling, being scared. She brushed off her clothes and shook out her hair as she stood up. She refused to let fear--or even anger--get the best of her for one more minute. She needed to get out of her room. Get something to eat. Buy some clothes to wear the next morning. Then crawl under the covers and get some rest.
She'd need to be on her toes tomorrow. Logan, she was certain, would be back on her trail. And he knew exactly how to push every one of her buttons.
Well, she'd be pushing back. Hard. And she wouldn't stop until she knew who was responsible for both the Desolation Wilderness fire and last night's structure fire and note.
She headed down to the gift shop and grabbed a couple of the least offensive T-shirts and sweatpants among the "Love Lake Tahoe" gear for sale, along with a pair of Crocs.
She'd buy proper new clothes tomorrow when regular stores were open, but she doubted the helicopter pilot would care if she was wearing sweatpants and recycled plastic shoes at 6 A.M. Heck, he probably expected people to look like shit at sunrise. The panties were the only thing that really gave her pause, the word "Lake" on one cheek, "Tahoe" on the other, capped off with a big heart over the crotch. But since no one was going to see her without clothes on, it didn't matter.
And then, just as she was about to head for the diner attached to the side of the motel, she decided to make one more phone call, to look into something that had been bothering her all day. Using the pay phone in the hotel lobby, she called the anonymous tip line.
"Hello. Lake Tahoe Crime Stoppers. How may I help you?"
Maya quickly explained that she was an arson investigator working on the Desolation Wilderness case and gave her Cal Fire employee and Social Security numbers so that the woman could log onto the system and verify her identity.
"I was hoping you could pull up the audio for a tip given on Monday afternoon."
She heard the woman click around on her computer. "Got it. Would you like to hear it now?"
"Yes, thank you."
A moment later she heard a very strange voice say, "I'm calling to tell you that someone I know has been lighting fires in Desolation Wilderness. His name is Logan Cain. And he's a hotshot."
Unease twisted Maya's stomach in knots. "Could you please repeat it for me?" she asked, but even after hearing it several times in a row, Maya couldn't tell if it was a man or woman speaking. The voice had an unreal quality to it.
"There's something strange about the voice, isn't there?"
"Now that you mention it," the woman said, "it does sound weird. Almost like it's a machine and not a person. It was a voice mail left after hours, otherwise I'd let you speak to the volunteer who took the tip."
Maya thanked the woman and headed into the diner. Ten minutes later she stared into her chicken cranberry salad, remembering what Logan had said about someone naming him on the tip line because of a grudge. Was he right? He'd been unfailingly kind about her brother. Could Logan do anything this cruel? Again she wondered, should he even be a suspect?
Her stomach growled but she couldn't eat. She should have just gotten into bed and tried to sleep.
The waitress noticed her untouched plate as she walked by. "Everything all right, honey?"
Maya looked at the woman. The right answer was Yes. Everything's fine, but she'd just been through the day from hell and she didn't have the lie in her. "It's been a long day," she said softly.
The woman nodded sympathetically. "Had a few of those myself recently." She held up a finger. "Be right back with something that's bound to perk you up." Ten seconds later she slid a thick slice of chocolate cream pie in front of Maya. "This ought to help some. Sure as hell is better than a salad anyway."
It was a nice gesture from a stranger, so Maya played her part by picking up the fork and sliding it into the pie. She forced down a bite and lifted her lips in a grim approximation of a smile.
"There you go." The woman beamed. "Only thing that can cure a broken heart is chocolate pie. Works every time."
Maya managed to keep hold of the fork until the waitress passed through the swinging door into the kitchen. It clattered to the table before she threw a twenty down, then slid from the booth and hurried out of the diner.
A broken heart. God, no, that wasn't it at all. Logan hadn't broken her heart. He couldn't have. She would never allow herself to have feelings for a suspect in a m
illion years. No matter how well he kissed. Or how intimate he was with her body. Or how much she wanted him to put his arms around her and hold her.
But even after a long hot shower and an hour of mind-numbing reality TV, she couldn't fall asleep. Not with all the lies she'd been telling herself bumping around together in her head.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE ALARM went off at 5:45 and it took Maya a long moment to figure out where she was. She stumbled into the bathroom, and when she saw her Love Lake Tahoe tank top in the mirror, everything came rushing back.
Recognizing Logan on the mountaintop.
Losing her breath every time he got close.
The horrible, threatening note in her burning hotel room.
Talking about Tony with the fire chief.
And worst of all, Logan's kiss on the beach.
She'd been tired and lonely and scared, all of her defenses down when he'd moved in for the kiss. For the kill. And she'd let him. She'd actually let him kiss her. Be cause she'd wanted it more than anything else, even though she knew she'd regret it--and she did, God, how she regretted it. She hadn't been able to push him away, hadn't been able to stop herself from reaching for him and pulling his hard body against her.
Fortunately, with the new day came clarity. And renewed confidence. She knew how to get his friends and coworkers to talk, knew she'd eventually find someone who was simply dying to dish out his secrets. And then she could make a carefully calculated decision about his guilt ... or innocence.
She hurried through a shower, then carefully applied the makeup she kept in her bag. She hadn't slept well and needed to conceal the dark smudges under her eyes and make herself presentable for whatever the day brought her way.
A white truck pulled into the parking lot, jacked up on oversized tires. The driver rolled down the window and stuck his head out. He looked to be Logan's age and sported a goatee. There was something familiar about him, but she couldn't put her finger on it.
"You Maya Jackson?" He grinned at her as she walked down the stairs and shook his hand. "Dennis. Nice to meet you." He hooked a thumb toward the diner. "Mind if we get a quick cup of coffee before we head up? Late night last night. You know how it is."