Touched By Fire. Elizabeth Sinclair

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      “They did, but the owners think Bayside Insurance is—” Rachel’s explanation was cut off by baby Jay crying in the background. “Maggie, please give Jay his pacifier for Mommy.” The crying stopped. “Thanks, sweetie. Sorry about that, Sam. As I was saying, the owners think Bayside is trying to find a loophole to get out of paying a claim. The owner is willing to pay us to prove it’s not arson.”

      An unsettling thought occurred to Sam. “Is FIST working this alone or are the police still involved?”

      “We’ll be doing it alone.” A long, pregnant pause followed. “A.J. will be going with you, Sam. After what happened yesterday, it’s the only way he and Luke would agree to letting you handle it.”

      Her stomach clenched. Even her best friend was supervising her life. Though she loved Rachel for it, she couldn’t help resenting one more restriction being placed on her. She sighed.

      If she were totally honest with herself, it wasn’t the restrictions on her movements that bothered her. She understood the need for them and was even grateful. What set her nerves on edge was whom she’d be forced to be with. Would she ever get past this unreasonable attraction to A.J. if he popped up in her life every five minutes?

      Maybe Rachel would go with her, or even Luke. Anyone but A.J. “Rach—”

      The loud cry of a baby erupted once more. “Gotta run. Jay needs feeding. Just go over to the store with A.J. and nose around. I’ll get the insurance company’s report to him, and he’ll get the building owner’s permission tomorrow morning so you can get on the premises by afternoon. I’ll meet with you here at our house tomorrow night to go over what you find. Seven okay?”

      “Uh, yes, I guess so. But, Rach—”

      “Good. See you then.” The phone went dead.

      Slowly, Sam swung her chair around and hung up the receiver. The good news was that thanks to the fire commissioners and a possible torch who had something against books, she’d be off the desk. The bad news was she’d be spending more time with the one man she didn’t seem able to get out of her life or her head.

      But what about her heart?

      Chapter 3

      When Sam stepped from her rental car in front of the burned-out remains of the Written Word Bookstore the next afternoon, A.J. was already waiting. He’d just finished removing the wooden planks covering the doorway and was brushing off his hands. She couldn’t drag her gaze from the muscles in his upper arms, which moved against the material of his light blue dress shirt and made her yearn to feel his arms around her. Her heartbeat sped up. Sam hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until her chest began to ache.

      Quickly, she sucked in air, gathered her equipment and boots from her trunk, slammed it shut and then exchanged her sneakers for the boots. After tossing her shoes into the car, she locked it and joined A.J. outside the front door of the bookstore.

      During her years on the beauty pageant circuit as a child and later as a young adult, she’d met a lot of men. Never, in all that time, had she ever met one who could turn her into a big ball of sensuality as A.J. did, simply by standing there. She wasn’t able to put her finger on it, but something about him reached out and touched her emotions in places that hadn’t been touched in a very long time.

      After her father had left, she’d locked up her heart to emotion. She thought she understood why he’d walked out on his family, but without knowing for sure, she couldn’t find it in her heart to forgive him. Living with Sam’s mother, who could only love Ben Franklin as he smiled back at her from a one-hundred-dollar bill, could not have been easy on her dad. Even today, every once in a while Sam would catch herself looking for his face in a crowd. Hoping he’d come back. Then she’d remember it had been eighteen years since she’d seen him. Would she recognize him after all this time? Was he even alive? Did she really care?

      Only once after her father left had she allowed anyone in and that had been a huge mistake. Sloan Whitley had lied to her about having a wife and left her with nothing. But even Sloan hadn’t had the hold on her emotions that A.J. seemed to have, and without even trying. God help her if he ever tried.

      “Afternoon.” A.J.’s deep voice roused her from her painful memories. He tried to take the heavy evidence case from her hand, but she resisted his help and retained a tight grip on the handle. Without argument, he stepped back. “You’re right on time.”

      She’d have to take his word on that. Several times that morning she’d caught herself counting the minutes until she’d meet him. Only by taking off her watch and shoving it in her pocket had she been able to get a grip on herself.

      “Let’s get this show on the road,” she said stiffly and stepped inside the burned carcass of what was once a quaint little bookstore. “Watch where you’re walking so you don’t inadvertently step on evidence,” she called over her shoulder to A.J.

      He knew the drill. Why did she find it necessary to remind him of the basic rules of fire investigation? Power, she told herself. She’d had so little of it over her life lately, it felt good to get back even that much, and that it was with him…

      Though it had been a week since the bookstore’s fire, the smell of wet, charred wood was still strong enough to make her catch her breath. Sam led the way through the debris of what remained of the building. Wood crunched beneath their feet. Puddles of water that hadn’t yet completely evaporated sloshed black mud on the cuffs of their pants. Books, their pages burned and blackened, lay everywhere. A brown, mixed-breed dog rooted through the charred timbers, probably in hopes of finding some food. When his search turned up nothing, he cast them a wary glance, bounded over a sagging ceiling beam, then shot off down the street to renew his quest for nourishment.

      They slipped on plastic gloves and went deeper into the front room of the building. Sam stared up at the only remaining interior wall.

      “Hell of a mess,” A.J. said, stopping beside her, his foot knocking against the aluminum evidence case she’d set on the floor at her feet.

      While Sam did a quick check of the room, A.J. watched, his gaze shaking up her usual methodical efficiency. When she’d finished with her preliminary walk-through, he dug in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “Rachel sent this insurance report over for us to use as a guide as to what their inspectors found.” For a moment, he scanned the report, then looked around. He pointed toward a window with the glass missing. “The inspector said he thought maybe a thief or an arsonist came through that broken window. We didn’t agree.”

      Sam walked over to just below it, shoved some of the debris on the floor aside with her shovel and then sighed. “This is a no-brainer. Either the inspector did this blindfolded, or he’s just plain stupid. There’s no glass on the floor around the window. A first-year fire academy probie would know that if someone broke in, there would be glass all over the floor. My guess is the heat blew the window out.” She straightened and looked at A.J. “Did they find glass outside?”

      A.J. glanced at the police report. “Yes, and according to the investigating officer, enough to make up the missing window.”

      Sam shook her head. “I’m surprised the insurance company didn’t catch that. Then again, maybe it served their purpose to overlook the obvious. Wouldn’t be the first time. You get an owner who doesn’t know and they can pull anything on them to keep from having to write a big settlement check.”

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