Passion Ignited

Omar shrugged. Wait... He hadn’t dated her in the past, had he?

No. He would remember her.

He saw a look flash on her face. It was subtle. Disappointment? Perhaps a little surprise? He wasn’t sure.

“I’m not who you think I am,” she said. She craned her neck to look around the corner onto Clark Street, and then threw up a hand in frustration. “And my God, you just let the arsonist get away.”

The sound of exasperation in her tone caused Omar to halt. Was she actually telling the truth?

“Why are you out here dressed in dark colors?” Omar asked. “And why did you run when you saw me?”

“I didn’t run when I saw you,” she quipped. “I ran because I was certain I saw the arsonist.”

Frowning, Omar released her. “You were serious about that?”

“Yes!”

“Who are you? And why are you out here alone trying to take down the arsonist?”

“Because someone has to.” She let out a frustrated breath, then reached into the pocket of her jacket. “I’m Gabrielle Leonard. I thought you might recognize me when I took my hat off, but you probably don’t watch community television.”

Omar said nothing.

“Anyway,” she continued. “I’m a producer and host at Cable Four. I have a very successful show. Your Hour—”

“Ahh,” Omar interjected, finally understanding. “So you’re a reporter, out here trying to get a scoop.”

“This isn’t about a scoop,” she said. “This is about catching the person who—as you said—has been terrorizing our city. But thanks to you, he just got away.”

Her eyes shot fire as she studied him, yet all Omar could think was how attractive she looked. Was she always this heated?

He kept a level head as he said, “You’re a reporter. Not a cop. If you had pertinent information, you should have given it to the authorities.” Now Omar was beginning to get irritated. All too often reporters got in the way—because they wanted to get the almighty story. “You were in the crowd. You looked suspicious. And that’s why I came after you. I hope to God the person you saw wasn’t actually the arsonist.” His eyes roamed over her body. She was all of five foot five, maybe a hundred and ten pounds. “How exactly were you planning to take him down? By batting your eyelashes?”

“Oh, that’s priceless. Now you’re going to throw out sexist insults?”

“You’re a reporter, not a cop.”

“I’m a TV host and producer.”

“Whatever. The last thing we need is a civilian inserting herself into the investigation.”

“Someone’s got to catch this guy,” Gabrielle muttered.

“Yeah—the professionals.”

“Fine. He’s long gone, anyway.” She glared at him, as if to emphasize that it was his fault. “Now that I’ve been duly lectured by you, I’ll take it into consideration for when the next fire happens.”

Oh, she had a mouth on her. Both literally and figuratively. Her full lips looked sweet. Yet she spewed such sarcasm and sourness. Why was she treating him like the enemy?

“Goodbye.” She turned in the direction of Clark Street. But Omar put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

She turned, looking up at him in surprise.

Omar said, “Not so fast.”

Chapter 2 (#ulink_bfb126bc-c9ae-5267-b89d-2c3968e3644f)

Gabrielle’s eyes widened as she looked at the firefighter. Why was he stopping her now?

“Don’t tell me you still don’t believe me,” she said.

“I do...believe you.”

“Then why aren’t you letting me go?”

He didn’t speak for a moment, and she noticed the way he was suddenly looking at her. There was something in his eyes. It was a look that Gabrielle had seen many a time. Most notably, with her own ex-fiancé—when he had leveled his eyes on other women.

This man was a player. It was practically written on his forehead. So often, the attractive ones were.

“If you are out here hoping to get a scoop, I have to ask that you don’t insert yourself into this investigation. Things get complicated when journalists get in the way.”

Gabrielle gritted her teeth, and held back a nasty retort. Of course, he didn’t believe her. He clearly thought she was interested in nabbing the arsonist for the glory. But that had nothing to do with it. She was in this for justice.

Justice for her parents.

Her parents had been victims of the arsonist. Their restaurant—the culmination of their hopes and dreams—had been burned down after only six months in operation. Two weeks later, her father had had a heart attack. The stress had gotten to him, and he’d almost died.

“I’m trying to catch this arsonist, because somebody has to. He has the city gripped with fear, and it’s mind-boggling that no one is able to figure out who he is and stop him.”

“You don’t think we’re doing our job?”

“Not good enough,” Gabrielle said.

She saw a little bit of irritation flash in the firefighter’s eyes. And she wondered why she was goading him. They shouldn’t be at odds. Ultimately they had the same goal. Yet, they were arguing.

“Why don’t you have a camera crew with you?” Omar suddenly asked.

The question caught her off guard. She wasn’t prepared for it. “I’m not here in an official capacity with the station. I already told you, this isn’t about me getting a story.”

“But you were at the last fire. Maybe the one before that, too. I’ve seen you before. That’s why, when I saw you tonight, I thought it was suspicious. More than a coincidence.”

“It is more than a coincidence. I heard about the fire on the radio, and I came down to the scene. Same as I did with the last fire. You guys are busy, and I wanted to see if I spotted anyone in the crowd who looked suspicious. I came armed with my cell phone camera.”

“You got the arsonist on camera? Why didn’t you say so?”

“You see how dark it is out here. I got pictures, but they’re not great. And I couldn’t get close to the guy.”

“Can you give me a description of him?”