Wild Heat (Hot Shots: Men of Fire #1)(9)
Author: Bella Andre

She stopped her rambling thoughts cold. What were the odds that Logan would even recognize her? He probably saw more ass than a pair of jeans. The fifteen minutes they’d shared—while she’d writhed helplessly against his long fingers, God help her—were likely nothing more than a mini-blip on his sexual radar screen. Whereas he’d been so hot—so good—she’d been unable to forget about him, particularly at night in her dreams.

After verifying via telephone that the hospital had discharged him, she entered the hotshot station, her heels clicking as rapid a beat on the cement floor as her heart did in her chest.

Twenty pairs of eyes—men only, she noted—turned on her. They weren’t stupid. They smelled an investigation.

She put her briefcase down on top of a table. “I’m Maya Jackson and I’m working with the Forest Service on the Desolation Wilderness fire.”

Logan had a mass of maps spread out in front of him. She focused her attention solely on her suspect.

“Mr. Cain, could you spare a moment to speak with me?”

He didn’t say anything, just laid down his pen and stood up. She waited for him to betray some sort of recognition, but his movements were easy, surprisingly sure—especially considering how close he’d come to death that morning. Clearly, a vertical slope on fire had nothing on Logan Cain.

His expression was utterly impersonal. She should have been happy that he didn’t seem to recognize her as the crazy woman who’d jumped him in the bar. But she wasn’t. Because the woman inside her wanted to be remembered.

How sad it was to be so easily forgotten.

And how pathetic she was for caring.

Again, she snapped herself out of it. She supposed there was a time and place for mulling over men. But not here. Not while a fire was raging.

She cleared her throat, glancing at the crowd of fire-fighters watching her every move. Each one was better looking than the next. Golden skin. Closely cropped hair. Incredible physiques.

And yet Logan was so striking she was left breathless.

What was wrong with her? He was a possible arsonist and here she was in heat for the guy.

Clearing away her stray thoughts, she asked, “Is there somewhere we could speak in private?”

“Gary,” he said to the gray-haired man she’d seen up on the mountain, “keep mapping routes, would you? I’ll be right back.”

She followed Logan into a sparse, windowless office, thinking that she’d never seen a man wear jeans and a T-shirt better, before she could push the inappropriate thought away.

Long-buried sensations rushed back at her. The feel of his lips on her br**sts, the slip and slide of his fingers on her sensitive skin. He’d had the same afternoon shadow six months ago. Her cheeks had been red with burns for days from his kisses.

She took a deep breath. She’d tried not to think about that day. The hot stand-up make-out session with a stranger in a bar had been a grief-induced aberration, nothing more.

Logan offered her a chair and she noted his gentlemanly behavior. Even if he is just a playboy firefighter, she thought, at least I didn’t almost have sex with a complete jerk. It was the most positive spin she could put on the situation for the time being.

He took a seat behind an old metal desk, his gaze level. Steady. Not hard, but not open and friendly either. And full of something that looked an awful lot like lust.

Maya wanted to squirm in her seat.

No. She was in charge here.

“I’m sorry about what happened to your friend today,” she said.

“The Forest Service folks are already talking about it?”

She shook her head. “I was there. On the mountain. I saw the blowup. I watched you run, watched you leave in an ambulance.”

“How did you find me?”

“I followed the smoke column.”

His gaze intensified. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

She stared at him, mesmerized by his incredible eyes, so dark brown they were nearly black. She knew what he was asking, but she didn’t want to go there.

“I’ve been assigned to this fire. I’ve read your file, knew which station you reported to. That’s how I found you.”

“I’d always wondered who you were,” he said in a soft voice, clearly unwilling to let their past stay where it belonged, “and where you went.”

There wasn’t enough air in the room. Why had she thought she could do this? Why had she convinced herself he wouldn’t remember her?

Of course he did. Who could forget a woman who came all over you in a bar, then sobbed her heart out, and didn’t even tell you her name before running?

“Now you know,” she said in a tight voice.

“Maya. Maya Jackson.” He paused, dropped his gaze to her chest for a split second, then back up to her face. “You never told me your name.”

“I shouldn’t have been in that bar,” she said in a rush. “It was a mistake. A huge mistake. I’ve regretted my actions ever since.”

The most handsome man she’d ever been with let her lie fall to the cement floor.

A corner of his mouth quirked up. “It wasn’t all bad.”

She couldn’t let this conversation get any more out of control. “I’m not here to talk about that afternoon.”

He looked perfectly at ease, but she knew better. A man like this, who risked his life more days than not, was on constant alert for hazards.

And she had danger written all over her.

“That’s right,” he said, “you’re Forest Service. Here to give me some more bad news about funding, huh?”

His delivery was smooth, almost unconcerned, as if he knew that she was simply a pretty messenger.

She hated being treated like a little girl on a fool’s errand. On the other hand, he’d just made her difficult job easier. Now it wouldn’t be so hard to give him the bad news. Not as long as he kept acting like an ass**le.

“I’m here to conduct an origin-and-cause investigation.”

The half grin fell from his face. In an instant he transformed into the protector, prepared to do anything to save one of his men from unfair persecution.

“What does arson have to do with my guys?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Just you.”

He frowned and she knew she’d caught him utterly unaware. “How so?”

“You’re our best—and only—suspect at this time.”

Logan’s physical response was imperceptible. She’d expected disbelief. Rage. But not this. Not a cold, black gaze.

“You think I’d light a fire that could kill my crew?”

His tone was hard, sharp, but she held her ground. “According to the ranger’s reports, you were spotted putting out fires in Desolation Wilderness twice in the past week by two different sets of hikers. You should also know that your name was called in yesterday. It was an anonymous tip, but the Forest Service couldn’t ignore it simply because you are one of them.”