Heating Up (16 page)

“Aidan, stop. I'm getting dizzy.”

“Kiss me first.”

“What? . . . Why?”

“Because I want you to.” He'd stopped the spinning and slowly put her down on the floor, tipping her head back so he could go in for the kiss.

It started out slow at first, just his lips brushing her lips, soft and supple. When she twined her arms around his neck, he went in for more, melding his mouth to hers, working his way between her lips with his tongue. He tasted so good, like warm, sweet breath and yearning. Cradling the back of her head in his big hands, he hummed his pleasure as he took the kiss deeper. She could feel further evidence of his desire hard against her belly and pushed herself into him as close as she could get without crawling inside of him. He felt so good. Strong, solid, and safe.

And that was when the little voice in her head reminded her that Aidan was on the rebound. He was strong, solid, and safe for the woman he'd lost and still loved. Not for her. For her, he was heartbreak waiting to happen. So little by little, as difficult as it was, she inched away from the kiss, trying to find her equilibrium.

Aidan reached out to steady her, running his thumb over her swollen lips. “You okay?”

“Yes. But we shouldn't do that in my office.” Or anywhere.

“Then let's go home and do it.” He tossed her a cheeky grin. The rogue.

“I have work,” she said but couldn't help wondering what it would be like to go home with Aidan McBride as his lover instead of his roommate. If his kiss was any indication, he'd be good. Probably the best she'd ever had, which wasn't saying all that much.

“What about celebrating?”

“Still don't want to jinx it. No celebrating until the place closes escrow.”

“I get that, but we've gotta do something.” He scrubbed the scruff on his face as if he was thinking about where they could go.

“We already went out to dinner last night,” she said.

“So, why can't we do it again, or something else fun? Let's go bowling.”

“Don't you have an arsonist to find?” she asked.

“Sweetheart, it's not like the movies, where I spend my days and nights buried in the case. At this point we're in a holding pattern. But I'm a very patient man.” He winked at her like that last statement had a double meaning.

Maybe Sue had left him because he was a big flirt and a lady's man. Otherwise, she'd been crazy. Who would willingly give up a man like Aidan McBride, firefighter hero, builder of closet organizers, and kisser extraordinaire? And someone who seemed to truly know what it meant to be a friend.

“I'll go bowling,” she said, although she'd only gone once in her life, as Griffin's date at one of Harlee and Darla's bowling parties. It had been humiliating. Everyone at the party knew Griffin was in love with Lina and that Dana had been a mere placeholder.

“I'll pick you up at six. We'll start our date with dinner.”

“It's not a date, Aidan. Just two friends and roommates hanging out.”

“You call it what you want,” he said. “I'm calling it a date, which is my First Amendment right.”

He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and strolled out of the office. It wasn't until he was gone that Dana realized she didn't know why he'd come to her office in the first place.

T
he kiss had left him short of breath, not to mention that the erection he was still sporting was killing him. As he sat in his truck, grasping the steering wheel in the real estate office's parking lot, he couldn't figure out why the kiss had thrown him off-kilter like it had.

It was an amazing kiss, no doubt about it. But he'd had other amazing kisses. He'd like to chalk up these unidentifiable feelings he had for Dana to the fact that after seven months he was sex starved and he found her extremely attractive. But that didn't explain why when he woke up this morning he'd had an urgent need to see her. So much so that he'd immediately showered, dressed, and drove to her office with absolutely no excuse for showing up. Thank goodness she hadn't asked because his only answer would've been, “Hell if I know. I just needed to see you.”

Really, he should still be mourning the loss of Sue and figuring out why their relationship had gone bad. If it were up to Sloane, he'd be at a Dr. Phil retreat right now, exploring his feelings. The thought made him shudder. The strange part about Sue was that he didn't even miss her. Sometimes he missed the idea of her. But when he tried to visualize what exactly that was, it wasn't Sue's face he saw. Rather it was the security he'd felt in knowing he was in a partnership with a woman who his family admired and adored. A woman more polished than a fireman's dress shoes. A woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it. Except him. She hadn't been able to get him.

Even worse, he'd recently realized that having her happily married to someone else was actually a relief.

He drove the short distance to the Ponderosa. He needed coffee and breakfast, even though it was coming up on lunchtime. Steak and eggs would bridge the two, he told himself. His entire family teased him about his bottomless stomach.

Inside, the jukebox played country-western music. Oddly enough, songs about tractors and truck stops were starting to grow on him. From the moment he'd shown up in Nugget to visit his sister, the mountain town had gotten inside his head and wouldn't let go. He loved the countryside, the rugged mountains, and the towering trees. And he found that the people here suited him. Welcoming, close-knit, and always ready for a celebration of some sort. It appealed to his social side. Aidan loved people and they usually loved him back. There was nothing better than going to the Ponderosa or the Bun Boy and seeing a bunch of people he knew and striking up conversations with all of them.

It also worked as an investigative tool, which was partially the reason he'd wanted a table in the restaurant instead of a place at the bar. Being out in the open would give him better access to diners. On the way, one of the owners was leaving with a sweet bundle in her arms.

“My girl Lilly.” Aidan reached over and bussed the top of the baby's head with a kiss as she reached her chubby arms out to him, shrieking in delight.

The owner—Aidan had seen her around the restaurant but had forgotten her name—said, “How do you know my daughter?”

“I thought she was Nate's daughter.”

The woman laughed. “She is. She's also Mariah and my daughter. I'm Sophie.”

“Pleased to officially meet you, Sophie, although I feel like I've known you for weeks, ever since I started eating at the Ponderosa. Now, Lilly and I go way back.”

“I can see that.” Sophie let him lift Lilly out of her arms. “She doesn't typically let people hold her. Anything new on the sporting goods fire?”

“Not yet. But if you or any of your employees saw anything out of the ordinary . . . anything that looking back on it now seems odd . . . I'd like to hear about it.”

“Give me an example,” she said, watching Lilly play with the sunglasses around Aidan's neck.

“A stranger lurking around the store. Someone familiar who seemed particularly nervous the day of the fire. Even if it didn't seem suspicious at the time, it might mean something now.”

“Okay, I'll spread the word. So you definitely think it was intentional?”

“Unfortunately, yeah.”

“Who would want to do something like that?” she asked, tugging Aidan's shades and neck cord away from Lilly. “Your glasses look expensive.”

They were, but he didn't care. “Sometimes it's someone with a vendetta . . . a person who was fired or thought he or she was ill treated by the business. Sometimes it's someone who gets excited by lighting fires, and other times it's a person who likes to watch the spectacle. People running from the building. Emergency crews responding with their sirens blaring. That sort of thing. Then there are those who have something financial to gain by it. Sadly, there are all kinds of reasons.”

“Poor Carl. I hope you don't think it's him.” Sophie took Lilly from him when she wouldn't stop playing with his glasses.

He usually didn't talk about who was or wasn't a suspect. But as far as he could tell, Carl had no motive to burn his shop down. He didn't even own the building, and his deductible was so high, he wouldn't make much from the insurance money on the few store items he'd lost. “That's not the direction we're looking.”

“Thank goodness. I'm glad to hear that. I've got to get going, but help yourself to any table in the place.”

He chose one right smack in the middle of the restaurant. And within five minutes the barber helped himself to the seat across from Aidan.

“You looking at those Rigsby kids?”

Ever since Harlee had mentioned the Nugget Mafia, Aidan had been hoping to rub elbows with one of the town's “power brokers.” “Excuse me?”

“For your fire. The Rigsby boys are looking real good for it as far as I'm concerned.”

“Yeah?” Aidan responded. “You think I should focus on them, huh? What's your evidence?”

A waitress came, and he ordered them each a coffee.

Owen pounded on his chest. “Right here. I've got a feeling.”

“Unfortunately, I need more than a feeling. You see anything suspicious?” The barbershop was kitty-corner to the sporting goods store.

“Nah. But I tell you, those kids are trouble. Their father ain't no saint either, and you know what they say: the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.”

“I'll tell you a good way you could be very helpful to this investigation,” Aidan said, and he could see Owen's ears perk up. “From your vantage point, you see the entire square. I need a spy.”

“I could do that.” Owen sat a little taller in his chair.

From what Aidan had heard, the man was better than the CIA and a twenty-four-hour security camera put together. “Great. That would be very helpful.” Aidan wrote his cell phone number on the back of his business card and slid it across the table. “Call me if you see anything odd.”

Owen pocketed the card. “That might be difficult. Ninety-nine percent of the people who live here are odd. You meet Portia Cane, the woman who owns the tour-guide company? Crazy as a loon.”

Aidan stifled a grin; the guy was a real character. “Just keep your eye out for someone who strikes you as up to no good. I've got a feeling you'll be good at this.”

Owen fixed Aidan with a look that said
don't patronize me, boy
. “So you're blondie's brother, huh?”

“Sloane?” Aidan laughed. “Yep.”

The server came with their coffees, Aidan gave her his order and she rushed off to get it to the kitchen.

“I hear she and Brady are getting hitched.”

“You hear correctly. They're thinking of having it at Sierra Heights.”

“That's what Griffin tells me. So you're dating that little real estate agent who used to go with Griff?”

“We're not dating . . . still dancing around it. What happened between Griffin and Dana?”

“He's always been hot for Lina Shepard. But the girl's jailbait. She just turned twenty. They had a big shindig for her at the Lumber Baron. The boy practically proposed to her.”

Aidan was pretty sure that was in February, the first time he'd come to Nugget to visit Sloane. She and Brady had been all dressed up, returning home from the party with enough firepower to take down SEAL Team Six. They'd been running from some trouble back then. Thank God it was over now.

“Dana isn't into him anymore.” He didn't know why he felt compelled to say that. Besides the fact that it made him sound like a high school girl, he didn't even know if it was true.

“From what I hear, you two are making cow eyes at each other.”

Aidan laughed. “Where did you hear that?”

“I've got my sources.” He got up and grabbed his mug. “I'll keep my eyes open and give you a full report.”

“Sounds good,” Aidan said and watched Owen walk through the entrance to the bowling alley.

The server returned with his steak and eggs and a side of pancakes. He'd just started digging in when Rhys pulled up a chair.

“Any leads?”

“I've got nothing,” Aidan said. “How about you?”

“Nothing.” Rhys eyed his mountain of food.

“You want some?” It seemed rude not to offer.

“I'm good.” Rhys lowered his voice. “No way to know where the gas came from, huh?”

Whoever lit up the sporting goods store had used gas as an accelerant. Usually the sign of a beginner. A truly experienced “torch” would've used solid fuels found at the scene to make the fire look accidental. Stuff like garbage ignited with a little bit of flammable liquid that would have dissipated in the fire.

“Nah, that's like finding a needle in a haystack. Everyone here gets gas for their vehicles, farm equipment, you name it. What we need is someone who saw an individual carrying a gas can to the scene. I have a footprint I found at the origin of the fire, but nothing to match it to. Too bad there aren't any security cameras in the square.”

“This ain't Rodeo Drive or whatever equivalent you had in Chicago.”

“Nope,” Aidan agreed. “But I enlisted Owen.”

Rhys chuckled. “You and your sister are quick studies. No one knows the doings of this town like the barber. Any other McBrides want to work in Nugget?”

“You're stuck with just us for now.” Aidan leaned over the table closer to Rhys. “My gut says this person will strike again.”

“Yep, mine too.”

“Owens seems to think it's the Rigsby boys. You have any thoughts on that?”

“I'd sooner put my money on the father. I don't see a motive, though. As far as I know, he doesn't have any kind of quarrel with Carl Rudd.”

“To make me look stupid,” Aidan said. Revenge was a top motive for arson. “He clearly has issues with my authority. What better way to make me seem incompetent to my supervisors than to set fires I can't solve?”

“I don't know, seems like a longshot. But I've been wrong before. A footprint isn't enough for a warrant.” Rhys shook his head. “No witnesses, no nothing. Broad freaking daylight.”

“And you don't think Rudd has anything to gain from the fire, financially or otherwise?”

“Nope. And setting things on fire doesn't strike me as Carl's style.”

“What about the owner of the property?” Aidan checked the notes he'd made on his phone. “Trevor Thurston. You know the guy?”

“Yep. He owns most of the square, including the Bun Boy, which he runs with his wife. Solid citizens who'd give you the shirts off their backs. You look into his financials?”

“Nothing glaring. But gambling debts . . . a drug problem . . . they don't tend to show up on bank records, you know?”

“He's a pretty smart guy. Seems to me if he wanted to burn the place down and collect the insurance money he would've gotten it done.”

The fire had been anemic at best. A lot of smoke with little damage. Firefighters had it out in less than thirty minutes.

“Could've just been bored kids, I suppose.”

“Could've been,” Rhys agreed. “We'll just have to wait and see. You ought to join us for basketball one of these days. We play at lunchtime. A few of the Cal Fire guys come, but they suck. Maybe you'll be better.”

Aidan laughed. His sister had told him about the pick-up games and about the friendly competition between the Nugget police and fire departments.

“You bet,” he said.

Rhys got up. “Sorry I interrupted your breakfast. Catch you later.”

After he left, Aidan continued eating. He'd finished the pancakes and was making good work on the steak and eggs when a middle-aged blond woman slid into the empty chair at his table.

“Did Dana tell you about my kitchen?”

“Uh . . . I don't think so.”

“You don't even know who I am, do you?” She didn't wait for him to answer. “I'm Donna Thurston, owner of the Bun Boy, and until you sign off on my open-flame permit I can't install the Santa Maria barbecues I just paid a buttload for.”

“Okay . . . I can do that. But can I finish eating first?”

“Of course you can. In the meantime, let me tell you my theory on the sporting goods fire.” She didn't even take a breath, just launched in to, “It was Carl.”

Aidan sat up.

“He's been sneaking around his wife's back, smoking again. She'd kill him if she knew. He goes outside to the back of the store where he thinks no one is looking, then throws his cigarette butts on the ground when he's done. I told Trevor it was just a matter of time, especially in this drought, before Carl burned the whole town down.”

Aidan let out a disappointed sigh. “Cigarettes, huh?”