Heatwave

“Why would a garbage-can fire necessitate an arson inspection?” she asked him suddenly.

He took a bite of his meal and chewed instead of giving her an answer, making her wonder if he’d even heard her.

“I noticed some charred crates, too,” she continued. “And soot stains near the exit. The fire today wasn’t the first, was it?”

Drew let out a sigh and set his fork on the delicate china plate. He’d expected her questions sooner or later. He’d just wished it’d been later, when he had some solid answers. “You’re not a reporter, are you?”

“No. I’m…” She paused and let out a short huff of breath. “I was an advertising executive.”

“Was?” he prompted, attempting to steer the conversation into a more personal direction. Emily intrigued him, but then most women did on one level or another, so he wasn’t overly concerned.

“Corporate downsizing.” She dismissed the subject with a wave of her hand. “The fires?”

So much for a redirection of topic, he thought, although he planned a revisit shortly. He wanted to know more about this absent father of her baby, which should be reason enough to ignore the faint stirring of need in his gut whenever he looked into Emily’s big brown eyes. Only he couldn’t seem to help himself.

“Today was the third incident,” he told her.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “The third?” She shook her head as if trying to absorb the information. “Grandy never said a word to me about the fires.”

Maybe because she was guilty as hell. “Maybe she didn’t want to worry her family,” he said instead.

Emily set her plate aside and rested her arms over the oak table. Her frown made a reappearance. He’d known plenty of women in his lifetime, and not a single one of them looked half as tempting as Emily Dugan when they frowned.

“What else has happened?” she demanded. “How long has this been going on?”

“Maybe you should talk to your grandmother about it.” He wasn’t concerned with putting his investigation at risk by sharing information with her, but he did feel she should be talking to Velma rather than to him. Under normal circumstances, they wouldn’t even be having this conversation.

“And let Grandy excuse the incidents as insignificant little nuisances? Not a chance.” Her big soulful eyes filled with determination that matched the firmness of her tone. “Besides, any investigation performed by the fire department is a matter of public record. Which translates to you not being in danger of breaching confidentiality laws by telling me what’s been going on around here. If someone is trying to hurt my grandmother, then I have a right to know.”

She had him there. “What makes you think someone else is responsible?”

Her mouth formed a perfectly shaped “O” before her gaze narrowed. “You can’t possibly believe an eighty-year-old woman is responsible for setting those fires? That’s absolutely insane.”

He leaned back in the chair, enjoying the heat in her voice a whole lot more than was prudent. She was, after all, carrying another man’s child, which classified Emily as strictly taboo, no matter how much she intrigued him. A guy did need to have his standards, and lusting after another man’s woman went against his own set of values. Unless the guy had indeed pulled a disappearing act.

“Is it?” he asked. “Have you taken a good look around? This place is falling apart.”

“That does not mean my grandmother is an arsonist!”

He shrugged and bit back a smile. Too bad such an exciting woman was off-limits. Maybe off-limits.

“Yes, it could, especially if the property is heavily mortgaged and she wants out. Believe me, Emily. People start fires for a variety of reasons, and a huge pay-off by their insurance company to get out from under a large debt is right there at the top of the list.”

“Well, not in this case,” she retorted. “Grandy and Pop paid off the property years ago.”

“Do you know for certain she’s never mortgaged it?”

“No,” she admitted. “I don’t. Not for certain, but it’s highly unlikely. Grandy would never risk the school or her home.”

Deep down, he agreed with her. Velma Norris hardly came across as the criminal type: she appeared to be quite sharp and seemed to be a savvy businesswoman despite her advanced age. Yet, the subject still required a thorough investigation, if for no other reason than to clear her of any wrongdoing.

“Drew, would you please tell me what’s going on?”

He sat forward and braced his arms on the table. “As I said, today was the third incident. The first fire happened about two weeks ago and looked to be nothing more than a grease fire that had flared out of control in one of the classrooms. No one was hurt, but according to your grandmother, the classroom was deserted when the fire started. It looked like someone had accidentally spilled grease beneath the top of the range and it was ignited by a faulty pilot light.”

“That doesn’t make much sense,” Emily said as she began to stack their dirty dishes. “Grandy has those ranges checked by the gas company once a month to prevent something like that from happening.”

He filed that information away for later, and made a note to contact the gas company to check out the service records.

“Last week the department received a call from a neighbor who spotted smoke billowing from the back of the school. Those charred crates you noticed behind the building? They were filled with old newspapers. A lit cigarette was the cause.”

Emily stood and carried the dishes to the sink. “Grandy doesn’t smoke,” she said, turning on the tap. “Couldn’t it have just been an accident? A careless student maybe?”

Drew pushed away from the table and joined Emily at the sink. At least standing next to her he wasn’t quite as prone to sit and ogle the seductive curve of her derriere. “I might believe that if the cigarette had been tossed on the top. But this was tucked inside in a way that leads me to believe it was intentional.”

He took the dish towel Emily handed him before she sank her hands into the soapy water. “The fire today was the most obvious. Someone took the time to coat the trash bin with cooking oil then set a rag on fire and toss it inside. Your grandmother didn’t realize there was something smoldering inside the bin and when she opened it, oxygen fed the flames. She could’ve been seriously injured.”

Emily glanced up and handed him a plate to dry. “All of which should eliminate her as a suspect, don’t you think?”

He shrugged. “Unless she’s the one responsible.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Off the record, I have my doubts.”

“Doubts?” Her expression said loud and clear what she thought of his doubts. “Whatever happened to common sense?”

He set the dried plate on the counter, then lifted another from the drain board. “Every possibility has to be considered, Emily. She refuses to close the school despite my recommendation to do so. Someone is setting these fires, and until the firebug is apprehended, no one is above suspicion. Not even your grandmother.”

She let out another little breath and shifted her attention back to washing dishes. “I just can’t imagine who would do such a thing. Or why, for that matter. Grandy has to be one of the most generous, kindest people on the planet. Why would anyone want to hurt her?”

Any number of reasons, he thought to himself. Firebugs didn’t do things that made sense in the logical scheme of things, except in their own twisted minds where their actions were justified. So far only Velma had been present on the property when the fires started.

For obvious reasons, he didn’t like the idea of Emily and her grandmother staying alone with an arsonist on the loose, if Velma wasn’t the one responsible. He couldn’t very well move in with them until the culprit was apprehended. Besides, he didn’t get involved. Period. Saving damsels in distress had been Cale’s gig until Amanda had come into his life. Just because he had retired his white charger, didn’t mean it was Drew’s job to pick up where Cale had left off. Not a chance. Drew was only staying the night because he’d been rendered temporarily insane.

Emily drained the sink and started putting the dishes he’d dried into the cabinets.

He crossed his ankles and leaned against the counter, enjoying the delectable view of her backside. “Mind if I ask how long you’re planning to visit?” he asked her.

She drew in a deep breath, effectively drawing his gaze to the rise and fall of her breasts. Her very full breasts.

“Initially, only one month.” After closing the cabinet, she turned to look at him. “Suddenly I find myself in not much of a hurry to return to New York.”

He nodded slowly, struggling to ignore the itch in his palms to feel the weight of her breasts against his hand. “The corporate downsizing?”

She braced her hands behind her and leaned against the gleaming countertop. “For starters. I think there’s a black cloud following me around.”

He chuckled when she wrinkled her nose in that cute way of hers. “It can’t be all that bad.”