Wild Fire. Debra Cowan

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      “Something big? Small?” he asked.

      “Could’ve been as small as a paper clip or a coin.”

      “Or flammable liquid inside the bag?”

      “Yes, any of those.” Had someone really tried to kill her? Or was the microwave faulty and she had just happened to be using it when it malfunctioned?

      “I’ll have the lab guys look at it. From your time together, Tyner knows you eat popcorn every afternoon. He could’ve planted something in the microwave before you tossed in your bag. So could Shepherd.”

      “I can’t believe Shep would do something like this.” It was frightening to realize she wasn’t sure about Vince.

      “I’m checking them both out anyway. I want you to take a leave of absence until we figure out what’s going on.”

      “But I just came back to work today.”

      “I know, but if this was an attempt on your life… Until the lab guys tell me this explosion wasn’t deliberate, I don’t want you here. I want you to be somewhere I can control the security.”

      His words chilled her. She knew he wouldn’t suggest a move and a leave from work if he didn’t believe it was necessary.

      “I want to talk to the crime scene tech. Then I’ll drive you home to get your things.”

      She nodded. “I’ll talk to Captain Oliver when he returns.”

      “I won’t let anything happen to you, Shelby.”

      She met his serious green eyes. She knew he was thinking about Jason, about the accident that he still blamed himself for. Why couldn’t he accept that what had happened to her brother hadn’t been his fault? “I know,” she said quietly.

      She didn’t like taking a leave from work. She felt as if she were running away, giving in to a scare tactic; it chafed, but she trusted Clay. If he said he feared for her, then he had a reason. There was probably no place safer for her than his house.

      Just before eleven-thirty the next morning, Clay walked into his kitchen from the garage, returning from a domestic dispute call he’d received at 5 a.m. He and Detective Kiley Russell had finally convinced a man holding his estranged wife and two-year-old daughter hostage to let them go. There had been no bloodshed, a major victory in itself.

      Erin, the older of his two younger cop sisters, stood at the sink rinsing dishes. She turned when she heard him, her straight, dark hair sliding over one shoulder. Concern shadowed her green eyes, a shade lighter than his. “How’d it go?”

      As he moved around the oak dining table, he told her about the outcome and then excused himself to go shower.

      “Want me to fix you a sandwich or something? Shelby and I have already eaten.”

      “A sandwich would be great. Thanks.”

      She nodded, walking over to the refrigerator and opening the door.

      “How were things here?” He stopped in the wide, arched doorway leading into the hall.

      His sister straightened, bracing a hand on the top of the fridge door. “Fine. She talked a little bit about the explosion yesterday. Tyner didn’t call, but her mom and Dylan Shepherd did.”

      The information about Shepherd annoyed Clay for some reason, despite his having learned that Shep hadn’t been in the kitchen before the explosion as Shelby had thought. Shepherd wasn’t a suspect at all right now. Neither were any of the other firefighters who’d been in the firehouse. They all had solid alibis, since they were off on a call. Clay dragged a hand across his tired eyes. “Did she say anything about Vince?”

      “No. She only mentioned him when she talked about the microwave. Do you think she’s afraid of him?”

      “A little. After what she told me about their last date, I don’t want him coming anywhere near her.”

      “Since you’ve got me and Brooke for backup during the day, he won’t. Not on our watch anyway.”

      “Thanks.” Clay did feel better knowing both his sisters would be with Shelby. “Where is she?”

      “Putting on her clothes.”

      He started down the long hallway, passing the guest room on his left. The door leading into the light, airy space done in red, blue and yellow plaid was closed.

      He figured Shelby was in there getting dressed, just as his sister had said. Before he could stop himself, he recalled holding her. Felt the press of her breasts against him, the soft skin of her neck beneath his hand.

      He shook his head. Whatever had happened with Shelby last week hadn’t occurred again. And wouldn’t, Clay told himself. That unexpected, unfamiliar awareness he’d had of her body must’ve been some weird fluke. Things were back to normal between them and he was glad. The uneasiness nagging him now was due to the microwave explosion yesterday and learning about Tyner’s presence there just before it happened.

      Clay felt much better knowing Shelby was at his house. They had spoken to Paula last night after she’d returned from her buying trip, and the older woman agreed that Shelby should stay with him. As did Clay’s dad, a cop who’d retired and started a private security company in Presley.

      Clay walked into his room and pushed the door shut. As he moved toward the heavy king-size bed and matching chest of drawers, he pulled his gray Presley PD T-shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor. He toed off his tennis shoes, turning with his hand on the top button of his jeans just as the door to his bathroom opened.

      Shelby stepped out, her eyes rounding in surprise. “Oh.”

      Sweet son of a—

      His breath backed up in a painful knot.

      Her short hair was dry except for a few strands that curled onto her nape. Steam from the bathroom glossed her neck, the curve of her shoulder. She wore only a bra and panties, and she looked damn good. The sight of all that bare golden skin had Clay’s entire body going rigid.

      “Erin’s using the other bathroom or I wouldn’t have—”

      “It’s fine.” His throat was so tight it hurt to talk. A subtle feminine scent drifted to him. Something light and frothy and Shelby. It made his mouth water. He told himself to move, to look away, but he couldn’t. His pulse hammered hard.

      Her underwear wasn’t sheer. It wasn’t even a sexy color. Just serviceable white. But the plunging lacy bra and high-cut panties were enough to make his chest ache.

      Who the hell knew she wore underwear like that? His gaze moved over the swell of her breasts, the sleek line of her belly to her lean legs, then drifted back to her breasts. His gut clenched when her nipples tightened against the silk.

      She gave a nervous laugh. “Why are you looking at me that way? I mean, you’ve seen me in a bikini that shows more than this.”

      Jerking his attention to her face, he struggled to keep his voice even. “What way?”

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