A Firefighter in the Family

Trish Milburn

“Trying to figure out how to bust me?”

She turned to look at him. “No.”

The simple answer alleviated some of the tension knotted in Zac’s shoulders. Randi looked like just another bar customer, though normally such a beautiful woman wouldn’t be sitting alone.

“So you’re not staking me out?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“So you are?”

“I didn’t say that, either.” She raised her eyebrows, and the barest hint of a suppressed smile curved her lips.

Very nice, intensely kissable lips.

Snap out of it, Parker. You destroyed that path a long time ago.

Dear Reader,

I’m thrilled to be making my Harlequin Books debut with A Firefighter in the Family. It has so many things I love woven together within its pages—a gorgeous and honorable hero, a strong heroine, a devoted dog and the incredibly beautiful shore of the Gulf of Mexico. I also like to throw a dash of mystery into my stories, and you’ll see that in the pages that follow.

Miranda “Randi” Cooke followed in the footsteps of her grandfather, father and brothers when she became a firefighter. But a tragic mistake led to estrangement from her family, the end of a romantic relationship that was just beginning, and her leaving her hometown behind. Now she’s back—in her professional capacity as a state arson investigator. And in addition to chasing down leads, she also has to face her family and Zac Parker, the man she once loved.

Who can resist a story in which a former love is rekindled? In which the hero and heroine have to work hard to trust each other again and find their happily ever after? Certainly not me.

I hope you enjoy Randi and Zac’s story. I’d love to hear what you think. You can e-mail me through my Web site at www.trishmilburn.com.

Happy reading!

Trish Milburn

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Trish Milburn wrote her first book in the fifth grade and has the cardboard-and-fabric-bound, handwritten and colored-pencil-illustrated copy to prove it. That “book” was called Land of the Misty Gems, and not surprisingly it was a romance. She’s always loved stories with happy endings, whether those stories come in the form of books, movies, TV programs or marriage to her own hero.

A former newspaper and magazine journalist, she took the leap into freelancing so she’d have more time to devote to writing fiction and chasing her dream of being a published novelist. While working toward her first sale, she was an eight-time finalist in the prestigious Golden Heart contest sponsored by Romance Writers of America, winning twice. Other than reading, Trish enjoys traveling (by car or train—she’s a terra firma girl!), hiking, nature photography and visiting national parks.

You can visit Trish online at www.trishmilburn.com. Readers also can write to her at P.O. Box 140875, Nashville, TN 37214-0875.

What makes a man a real-life hero? When he tells you every day that he loves you, believes in you even when you don’t believe in yourself, and gives his unfailing support even when you want to quit your job to pursue your dream. Shane, I love you bunches. I’ve dreamed for years of being able to dedicate my first book to you.

My gratitude also goes to the incredible ladies who have been my critique partners throughout the years—Beth Pattillo, Annie Solomon, GayNelle Doll, Michelle Butler and Martha Edinger. I know I wasn’t in love with all those red marks on my manuscript pages at the time, but they helped get me to this point.

And to Mary Fechter—thanks for the fast reads, the daily e-mails, the squees over the latest episodes of Supernatural, and convincing me to get a TiVo.

Finally, huge thanks to my fabulous agent, Michelle Grajkowski, for being my champion all these years, and to my wonderful editor, Johanna Raisanen, and Kathleen Scheibling for helping my long-held dream come true.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter One

The familiar scent of wet ash invaded Randi’s nostrils. Even though the flames had been extinguished and no visible smoke drifted into the bright blue sky, the acrid smell clung to the air, refusing to relinquish its grip. Her stomach twisted. It wasn’t the first time fire had blazed in her hometown, but thankfully no one was hurt this time.

From the spot on Sea Oat Road where she now stood, she’d once only been able to see blue-green waves, sugar-white sand and a line of beach homes painted cotton-candy pink, daffodil-yellow and robin’s-egg blue. Now she stared at the charred remains of a high-rise condo complex, the soot, crumbling timbers and twisted metal more out of place here in this idyllic spot than at any fire scene she’d ever been sent to investigate.

She glanced toward a side parking lot and spotted a familiar shock of white hair. Smiling, she headed in that direction. When she got within earshot, she called out. “Hey, old man.”

Jack Young looked up from where he was stowing equipment in the Number 1 engine. His eyes brightened when he saw her. “Well, I’ll be. I haven’t seen you in ages.” The man she’d always called Uncle Jack came toward her and wrapped her in a bear hug that remained strong for a man closing in on seventy.

“What are you doing still working fires? You should be taking it easy.” She phrased her words as teasing, but part of her did worry about him still undertaking the hard labor of firefighting.

“Hon, I’ve been working so long I don’t know how to relax. Besides, this department would fall apart without me.” He gestured to a couple of young firefighters at the front of the engine. “These nimwits wouldn’t know one end of the hose from the other.”

The younger guys snorted.

“So, Steve sent you home to handle this one, huh?” Jack asked as he wiped sweat from his forehead.

Randi ignored the reference to “home.” She couldn’t think of Horizon Beach like that anymore. It hurt too much. “Yeah. Looks like you had your hands full with this one.”

“You can say that again. This baby burned like burning was going out of style. It was amazing to see.”

That was saying a lot coming from a guy who’d seen every kind of fire known to man—everything from a lightning-sparked brush fire to a frightening oil-tanker blaze in the Gulf.

She glanced at Jack’s profile, saw how he looked into the distance with the familiar expression he got after taking on a big fire. Like he’d stared into the eyes of the beast but lived to tell about it. Jack, more than anyone else she’d ever met, knew fire wasn’t just a thing. It was a living, breathing soul bent on destruction. He gave fire the respect it deserved. She just wanted to send it all back to hell.

“So, what’s the story?” she asked.

Jack scratched his gray stubble. “Better talk to Will. He was first on the scene. I was bringing up the rear on this one.”

“Okay.” She’d rather eat sawdust than talk to her brother. “I’ll catch you later.” Randi walked toward the engine closer to the burned building.

She stepped off the sidewalk where several current Horizon Beach residents and visitors stood speculating about the midnight blaze that had consumed the building.

“Come on, Thor.” Her giant black Labrador retriever—one part fire dog, one part best friend—fell into step beside her as she headed for the burned-out shell of the once nearly completed Horizon Vista Resort.

A young fireman stepped out from where he’d been talking to a man in street clothes. “Ma’am, you can’t come in here.”

She slipped her ID from her pocket. “I’m Randi Cooke with the state fire marshal’s office.”

He examined the identification card. “You must be—”

“Yeah. Sister to half your department.” And daughter of the former chief, and granddaughter to the chief before that.

“Eric and Will are still here.” He pointed toward a fire engine, and she saw Will retrieving a tangle of hoses.

She inhaled deeply, but instead of fortifying her for a meeting with her oldest brother, it only filled her nostrils with the scent of ashes. She exhaled through her nose, trying to banish the heavy, choking smell. “Thank you.”

Randi headed for the engine. Her nerves jangled, and the muscles in her shoulders tightened despite her internal monologue to stay calm and professional, as she always was at a fire scene. Will looked her way. Though he should have been expecting her, the widening of his eyes indicated he was surprised to see her.

He’d shucked most of his turnout gear, but the boots, flame-retardant bunker pants and suspenders remained. His blond hair poked out in half a dozen directions from sweat and his helmet.

“Hey, Will.”

“Randi. When did you get here?”

She tried to ignore the coolness in his voice, but knowing the reason behind it made that task impossible. “A few minutes ago. Looks like you had a busy night.”

“Yeah. Had to call in help from Fort Walton. Place was fully engulfed when we arrived. Went up like it was made of paper.” His words came out mechanically, as if he were writing a report—or talking to a stranger.

“Any clue what happened?”

“No. Wouldn’t be surprised if it’s arson.”

“What makes you say that?”

He pointed toward the rubble. “The only people happy about this place were the tourism bureau, the tax assessor and the builder.”

“Jack didn’t mention arson.”

Will glanced toward the older man. “Hell, the old coot probably slept through half the fire. He wasn’t on duty, so the guys from Fort Walton got here before he did.”

“He should retire.”

Will sighed. Obviously this topic had been broached many times. “Too stubborn, even though he’s not as fast or strong as he used to be.”

She hoped Jack would change his mind about retirement before he or someone else got hurt. But that thought brought back memories she’d rather not explore.

“So, who’s the owner?”

He exhaled. “Guy named Bud Oldham from Tampa.” Will frowned, and his fair complexion grew pinker than when he’d spotted her.

They’d already spoken more this morning than they had in the past two years combined. Of course, not all of that was Will’s fault. Still, her job required digging for information. “Oldham around during the fire?”

“Hell, I don’t know.” He pitched his gloves into the truck. “I was too busy to canvass the crowd.” He stalked alongside the engine and slammed two equipment doors.

Randi’s jaw clenched, but she forced her muscles to relax. Forced herself to remember that she’d driven this wedge herself and she had to live with it. “I’m just doing my job, Will.”

She tugged gently on Thor’s leash, needing to immerse herself in work so she’d forget why the oldest of the Cooke siblings would never forgive her. Why being the baby of the family and a girl had sent her fleeing from her once-loving home. How one mistake could change so many lives.

As she sloshed through the mucky sand caused by the rush of water from the hoses the night before, she spotted Eric headed toward her. Soot darkened his pale skin, and he sported a hairstyle like his older brother’s. She remembered that sweaty, itchy feeling and resisted the urge to scratch her scalp. In contrast to Will, the youngest of her four older brothers smiled at her.

“Hey, sis. I wondered if they’d send you to work this one.” Eric reached down and rubbed Thor’s head between his ears, earning a yip of greeting in response.

“Yeah, Steve’s daughter is getting married today.” Her boss had been in a tizzy all week, alternating between telling everyone how beautiful a bride his daughter was going to be and cursing how much the wedding was costing him.

“And you’re missing it?”

“I’m never glad for a fire, but I can’t say I’m heartbroken to miss La Prima Donna’s nuptials.”

Eric laughed, but his expression changed when he glanced over her shoulder. “Will looks like he’s ready to bite the head off an alligator.”

“Yeah, well, some things never change.” She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice but wasn’t successful.

“You two at it already?”

“No, I walked away.”

“It’s been nearly three years. Are you guys ever going to talk about what happened?”

Randi sighed. “I tried. Besides, he’s right.” As much as it made her heart ache to admit it.

“It was an accident. It wasn’t—”

She stopped Eric with a quick, cutting hand gesture. “Let’s focus on figuring out what happened here. Any ideas?”

Randi retreated into her job, quizzing her brother about the fire and the building’s owner.

“Eric, come on, we got work to do.” Will’s voice wasn’t that of an older brother, but rather a superior officer.

“Coming.” Eric looked back at her. “You’ll be around?”

“Yeah.” She scanned the rubble. “Looks like this might take a while.”

“You staying at Mom and Dad’s?” He always asked the question, even though the answer never changed.

“No. I’ll get a room.” She ignored the sad look in Eric’s blue eyes.

“I’ll call you on your cell then. We’ll grab a bite.”

“Eric!” Will sounded more irritated.

“Go on before he really gets his drawers in a wad.” She smiled, trying to make light of the situation.

Taking a chance at angering their older brother, Eric leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “I’d hug you but I’m pretty rank at the moment.”

“Thanks for keeping your sweat to yourself.”

He smiled again, his white teeth standing out against his blackened face. “Catch ya later.” He slogged through the mud in his splattered boots, and she remembered when they’d been kids, running through puddles after a fast-moving coastal rain.

“Let’s get to it,” she said to Thor as she stirred the ash. He began sniffing the remains of the building, searching for accelerant.

When the breeze shifted and replaced the scent of char with the freshness of the ocean, Randi breathed deeply and closed her eyes, remembering how she used to crawl up onto her parents’ roof to soak in the sun and watch the waves roll in. When she wrapped this case, she’d take some vacation time to relax. Every firebug in Florida had picked this spring to torch all available combustibles, and the worst drought in a decade wasn’t helping. She and Thor were more in demand than ever.

“You going to catch the bastard who did this?”

At the edge of the burned-out area stood a tall man with gray hair and a tan that would rival George Hamilton’s. This guy must spend every daylight hour outside without a drop of sunscreen.

Randi raised from her crouched position. “Mr. Oldham?”

“Yeah.”

Randy carefully picked her way across the building’s innards toward its owner. “Any idea what might have started this fire?”

“I have no doubt someone torched the place,” he said.

Randi crossed her arms and watched Oldham for the slightest change of expression. She kept her voice even and nonaccusatory as she asked, “What makes you say that?”

“Locals have an aversion to progress.”

“So there was opposition to the construction?” She’d once known every piece of gossip in town, but not much Horizon Beach news made it to her present home in Pensacola.

“You could say that.”

“From whom?”

He gestured inland. “Damn neighbors, a park ranger, some of those freak greenies. Hell, might even be that stupid bar guy,” Oldham said. “Don’t think I’m his favorite person, either.”

She asked about each potential suspect and took thorough notes on them.

“You mentioned a ‘bar guy.’ Can you be more specific?”

“Parker. Owns a little shack of a bar on the beach.”

Her heart beat wildly for a moment at the mention of the name Parker, until her mind caught up and struck the possibility of it being Zac Parker. Zac was a firefighter, not a bartender.

Oldham pointed to the southeast. “I tried to buy him out, wanted to put a pool where he’s at, but he wouldn’t budge.”

Randi cloaked herself in her professional persona instead of memories. “Sounds as though your condos weren’t too popular. Why build them here?”

He directed his “watch your smart mouth, girlie” gaze at her, but she didn’t look away. She’d interviewed too many people who’d torched their own homes and businesses for the insurance money to let this guy bother her.

“Have you seen the rest of the Florida coast?” he asked. “High-rise condos are a dime a dozen, hard to make them stand out among the hordes. Here, it’d be the only one.”

“For now.”

“That’s what matters.” Oldham looked at the heap that used to be his investment. “You really think you can find out how this happened?”

Thor barked, deep and throaty, the distinctive bark that meant he’d completed a mission. She and Oldham looked to where Thor stood at a spot close to what had been the southwest corner of the building.

Randi nodded toward Thor. “That’s a step in the right direction.”

ZAC PARKER CURSED under his breath when the breeze shifted, bringing the smoky smell of the burned building into his open-air bar. Once, he’d considered that smell a part of everyday life. Now, it just brought back bad memories.

“Guess he ticked off one too many people, huh?”

Zac looked up from where he was pulling a cold Budweiser from the bottle cooler beneath the bar. Adam Canfield, his friend and regular bar patron, stared at the remains of Bud Oldham’s controversial venture into Gulf Coast realty.

“Maybe,” Zac said. “Could have been wiring or someone forgot to turn off a torch.”

Adam looked back at Zac and accepted the beer. “You don’t really believe that.”

Zac shrugged. “Don’t know. Not my problem.” He would not admit to any instinctive curiosity about the fire. Or the sliver of satisfaction he’d experienced thinking about that pompous jackass Oldham getting a little payback. He didn’t like the feeling. He’d spent nearly a decade of his life fighting fires, first in Tallahassee, then in Horizon Beach, before he’d walked away.

And the Beach Bum, with its thatch roof and position next to the condos, could have been destroyed if the wind had blown the opposite way and carried embers in that direction. Fire had destroyed his life once. He was damn lucky it hadn’t performed an encore.

“Well, it’s gonna be somebody’s. Hell, maybe Oldham got tired of all the opposition and burned it himself.”

Wanting to steer the conversation away from Bud Oldham and fires, Zac pointed at the fishing pier jutting into the Gulf of Mexico. “They catching much?”

Adam glanced toward the pier, which was already lined with people and their fishing poles. “Mainly pompano and channel bass,” he said as he gave Zac a look that showed he knew he was deliberately changing the subject.

That was Adam—Mr. Observant. He was also the closest Zac had to a best friend. After a dozen years of the army telling him how to dress and sending him to one hot, dusty location after another, Adam had said “screw it” and returned to Florida where the sand actually had some water next to it. He’d plopped down in the Beach Bum after his first day as a Horizon Beach resident and announced, “Sand, surf, fishing, cold beer and bikinis as far as the eye can see. I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

Zac had laughed and given him a beer on the house.

The two of them had a similar take on life—the less stress and responsibility, the better. For Zac, the Beach Bum was a bar where he could listen to the ocean all day and call the shots. For Adam, the fishing pier concession paid the bills and afforded him the opportunity to watch said bikinis all day and fish to his heart’s content.

“Now what is wrong with this picture?” Adam asked.

Zac looked up the beach. A woman with a blond ponytail and one heck of a big black Lab walked toward the bar. “You mean that there’s a woman on the beach who isn’t wearing a bikini or the fact that the dog looks like he might be part horse?”

“There’s a dog?”

“Jeez, you’re incurable.”

“Thor, stay,” she said from the edge of the bar.

“Thor, huh?” Adam evidently thought noticing the dog would win him points with its owner. “That seems appropriate.”

Zac was about to make a smart-ass comment about Adam’s flirting when he realized he recognized her voice. He looked up as she stepped into the bar and shoved her sunglasses onto the top of her head. His hand tightened around the edge of the bar.

Randi Cooke.

She ignored Adam and turned her attention toward Zac. Her forehead scrunched, and he could nearly hear the gears turning behind those gorgeous blue eyes of hers. She had that out-of-place expression on her face—like when you go on vacation and bump into someone from back home.

“Zac?”

“Randi,” he said with as little emotion as possible. Not as easy as it sounded.

“You two know each other?” Adam asked from his scoping-the-hotties perch.

“We’re acquainted,” Zac said. He turned his back and straightened bottles of liquor that didn’t need straightening. He ignored the awkward silence behind him. What he wouldn’t have given for some warning of her arrival.

“Well, I’m not,” Adam said.

“Randi Cooke with the state fire marshal’s office,” she said, her formal introduction and tone quashing any hope that she’d just happened by for a drink.

A Cooke investigating a fire. Not to mention a Cooke he’d wronged and who had fled town partly because of him. Just what he needed. Time to nip this in the ol’ bud and send her on her way.

He turned toward her and leaned back against the metal sink. “Before you ask, I wasn’t around when the fire started,” he said as he nodded toward what remained of the condos.

She raised her eyebrows.

“Doesn’t take a genius to figure out you’re here to ask if I saw anything suspicious, not to ask for a martini,” he said. “The bar closes at one. The fire started after that.”

“The call came in at one-seventeen, to be exact.”

Zac stiffened. He scanned the few patrons at the outer edge of the bar. They apparently hadn’t heard her. “You’d better not be accusing me of anything.” Been down that road with her family, didn’t want to revisit.

Surprise widened her eyes for a moment. “I don’t recall doing so. Is there a reason I should?” she asked, a coolness seeping into her words.

“Runs in the family,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Well, gotta go,” Adam said as he grabbed his beer and fled.

Zac barely noticed Adam leaving. Instead, he stared at Randi. Damn her for standing so close while being so distant, as if they’d never met, while he wanted to crush something with his bare hand at the thought that suspicion might touch him again. What irked him even more was that in the midst of the chilly reunion, he couldn’t help noticing she was even prettier now than when he’d seen her last. Her bright eyes seemed wiser, her body more toned, her hair even more blond and silky. Every aspect of her physical appearance made it more difficult to deal with her.

He broke eye contact. “Listen, Oldham tried to buy me out. I said no. He was ticked. End of story.”

“Just how bad was this disagreement?”

There she was doing it again, acting as if he were a stranger, as if they hadn’t once worked side by side. As if they hadn’t once been more than co-workers. Still a Cooke through and through—despite everything that had happened.

Zac moved to the edge of the oak bar and leaned down so his voice didn’t carry. “Bad enough to think tossing the jackass in the Gulf might be amusing—yes. Bad enough to burn his eyesore to the ground—no. Now you know and can move on to the next person on your list.”

“You’re a bit belligerent for an innocent man, aren’t you?”

Yeah, he was belligerent. It felt like déjà vu all over again. “Anyone would be if unfounded accusations were being cast at him.”

She caught and held his gaze, and for a second he thought he glimpsed a sliver of the old Randi. He couldn’t help the yearning for what they’d once shared, what might have been, however ill-advised that might be.

“I’m not accusing you, Zac,” she said. “I’m just asking questions. Looking for the truth.”

Zac’s stomach knotted. The last time someone had questioned him about a fire and he’d told the truth, they’d rewarded him with handcuffs and a trip to jail.

He wouldn’t be falsely accused again.

Chapter Two

Zac huffed and turned away as he shoved individual wine bottles into a glass-fronted cooler to chill.

“You don’t seem to like me very much anymore,” Randi said, trying to sound as if she didn’t care one way or the other.

“I’m busy. I have a business to run.”

“Yeah, about that—what’s with the whole bartender shtick?” Not that he didn’t look yummier than any cold, fruity drink he could serve up.

Randi leaned one arm against the edge of the bar and stared at Zac’s back, a very nice, muscled back from what she remembered, and his tanned forearms. When he glanced to the side, she eyed his profile. Short, dark hair. Strong jawline. Stubborn. Why, of all the people in Horizon Beach, had she crossed paths with Zac Parker? And why did the mere sight of him still make her pulse race as if it were trying to break free of her veins?

A blonde in a pink bikini with a flowered wrap around her hips wandered up to the bar and asked for two beers. Randi waited while Zac turned, pulled the bottles from the cooler and took the girl’s money. He didn’t ogle the eye candy, and Randi was annoyed by how much that pleased her. Which made no sense, considering the circumstances the last time they’d seen each other.

He looked up, his expression casual. “You’re still here?”

“Let’s leave past animosity in the past, shall we?” She was here in her professional capacity, and what they’d once meant to each other wasn’t relevant to the task at hand.

“Fine.” He bit out the word as if it was anything but fine. As if to contradict his tone, he placed a lemonade in front of her. He glanced up, caught her gaze for a moment before breaking eye contact. “I have a good memory.”

She didn’t let it show, but she was shocked he’d remembered.

Zac leaned against a metal cooler and crossed his arms.

Why was he so hostile? She was the one with that right, not him. “I have to investigate every angle. You know that.”

“Dig to my birth certificate if it makes you happy, but don’t jump to conclusions before you know what you’re talking about,” he said.

Those words sliced at her. She didn’t rush headlong into things anymore. She’d learned her painful lesson.

“Nice to see you’ve matured since I saw you last.” She couldn’t help it. The bitterness just tumbled out. Better to sound bitter than brokenhearted, though.

Four lobster-human hybrids stepped into the bar and eased their sunburned selves into the chairs surrounding a nearby table. A surfer type approached the opposite end of the long bar, and Zac moved away without another word or glance in her direction.

Fine. She knew where to find him.

She noticed his liquor license on the wall. Why on earth was he tending bar instead of fighting fires? Oldham would have her believe Zac had started setting them instead. But no matter how much he’d hurt her, she couldn’t picture him as an arsonist.

Zac’s deep voice drew her attention. He was even sexier than she remembered—and what she’d remembered had been plenty sexy. Alone in her mind, she could admit she was still attracted to him, even if she couldn’t forgive him.

ZAC WATCHED Randi Cooke retrace her steps toward the burned-out condos, her wake sucking him back almost three years.

“Dude, you’re about to pop a blood vessel.”

Zac redirected his gaze to find Adam had sauntered back to the bar and was tapping his temple. “I’m fine.”

“Then I’d hate to see a man on the verge of a stroke.”

Zac turned to throw some empty cartons in the trash so he wouldn’t bite off Adam’s head. His friend had been a beach staple for barely two years, hadn’t been there when all hell broke loose in Zac’s life.

Adam took a drink of his beer as he watched Randi disappear over the dunes. “What’s the story with the babe?”

“No story.”

“Right.”

“We went out a few times, that’s all.” He wasn’t willing to recount all the details, but he’d give Adam enough to get him off his case.

“So, how bad was your argument with Oldham?” Adam asked.

“If you’re going to play cop, you can just go back to the pier.”

Adam raised his hands. “Chill. I’m on your side.”

Zac braced his palms against the top of the cooler. “Sorry. She just raised my hackles.”

Adam nodded but looked like he suspected there was more behind Zac’s reaction. “Understandable. Having the ex interrogate you—not exactly what you expected when you got up this morning.”

Actually, when he’d arrived at work and seen the devastation next door, he’d imagined such an encounter. But he’d figured on one of Randi’s brothers doing the interrogation. He wasn’t sure that wouldn’t have been better. At least he didn’t have any guilt wrapped up in his feelings toward them.

“Anything you want to share in case your Nancy Drew shows up at the pier asking questions?”

Zac shook his head. “There’s nothing to know. Oldham wanted to buy me out, I said no, that was the end of it.”

Adam stared at him for a moment, as if maybe he didn’t believe him. Well, that was Adam’s problem, not his. He was damned tired of explaining himself, especially to people who were supposed to be his friends.

RANDI WALKED out of her hotel room’s bathroom toweling the excess water from her long hair. After a full day of sniffing rubble and accompanying her while she interviewed witnesses, Thor lay stretched out on one of the beds watching the Eukanuba Dog Show on Animal Planet.

“Checking out the babes, huh?”

Thor licked his chops as a female husky strutted her stuff.

“You’re so predictable. It’s always the blue-eyed girls.”

Randi slipped into white cargo pants and an orange tee, thankful to be out of smoky clothes. She propped her pillows behind her against the headboard and pulled out her case notebook.

She scanned through the list of names and didn’t scratch any off, not even eighty-year-old Penelope “Busybody” Jones. Randi couldn’t imagine the woman who looked like Barbara Bush’s twin doddering across Sea Oat Road with a can of gasoline and a box of matches in the middle of the night, but she’d seen stranger things happen.

She leaned back and thought about Zac’s reaction to her questioning. Red-flag city. Her eyes drifted closed as she pictured his tight facial expressions, his tense body language. His finely toned body. She swallowed.

Even though his status as a potential suspect gave her the distance she needed from him, she couldn’t believe he was really guilty. But he didn’t have to know that. The mere thought of someone she’d once cared about, a fellow firefighter, being the culprit sickened her. But he wasn’t a firefighter anymore, was he? Why? After all, he’d once sacrificed friendship and the possibility of something more for the job.

Her cell phone rang, and she answered while making notes for the next morning’s itinerary.

“How’d it go today?” Steve asked.

Did her boss ever take a day off? “I should be asking you the same question. How’s the happy couple?”

“On their way to Cozumel. What have you found out?”

Randy shook her head. If there was one thing that could be said for Steve Preston, it was that he was dedicated to the job. If the entire state of Florida caught fire simultaneously, he’d find a way to have a working knowledge of every single case to which his investigators were assigned.

“Thor’s keeping his reputation intact. I sent a sample off to the lab, but it smelled like gasoline.”

“Suspects?”

“Well, the consensus is that the builder is a jerk and the condo project unpopular. The suspect list is turning into a cast of thousands.”

As soon as she hung up a few minutes later, her cell rang again. “Hello?”

“Hey, sis. Where ya staying?” Eric asked.

“The Coral Inn on Gulf.”

“I see the state is putting you up in the fancy places.”

“Ha-ha.” How good it felt to talk to him. The full impact of how much she missed him and the rest of her family made her suck in a shaky breath.

“Want some dinner?”

“You buying?”

“You’re the one with the cushy state job.”

Randi rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m making so much money I don’t know what to do with it all.”

“Okay, I’ll spring. Pick you up in ten.”

Randi slipped on a pair of white canvas mules, an oddity in her collection of dirty boots and athletic shoes. Even her running shoes were scuffed and smelly from her morning jogs.

When Eric pulled into the parking lot, Thor leaped into the bed of the black Dodge Ram without being told. Randi slid into the passenger seat.

“Hey, you clean up decent,” Eric said.

Randi sniffed the air. “You, too. I don’t smell you quite so much anymore.”

Eric punched her lightly in the arm, like he’d done as a kid. It caused a pang in her chest, and she wished things were that simple and carefree again.

“So, where we going?”

Eric didn’t answer, but he turned east, away from most of the town’s restaurants. Toward home.

Anger and anxiety made her muscles tighten. She stared hard at Eric’s profile, but he refused to look her way. “Damn it. You ambushed me.”

“Come on,” he pleaded. “It’s not like I’m dragging you to prison or the gates of hell.”

“No, just the land of thinly veiled hostility.”

“It’s not that bad, and you know it.”

“I don’t know it. You just refuse to see what’s right in front of your nose. Now turn around.”

“No.”

Randi looked at her brother in stunned surprise.

“Carol will have my hide,” Eric said, sheepish.

If there existed someone more determined than Eric to rebuild the burned bridges in the Cooke family, it was her sister-in-law Carol, Will’s wife. The irony never failed to strike Randi. If Will was strong and determined and sometimes bullheaded, Carol was every bit his equal but somehow managed to be a sweet person at the same time.

“That’s freaking fantastic.” Randi crossed her arms and watched the shops of downtown Horizon Beach zip by as Eric drove toward their parents’ house on the outskirts of town. She hated having control of a situation taken from her.

“Give it a rest. You’re here at Thanksgiving and Christmas. What difference does the day make?”

“I have time to prepare for the holidays.”

“So now you have to ‘prepare’ to see your family?”

“When half that family still holds a grudge against me, yes.” Not that there wasn’t cause. Still, it hurt.

“Randi, it’s time to move on.”

She turned toward her brother and pierced him with the stare that put fear into the hearts of otherwise heartless arsonists. “Did you happen to hear Will this morning? Did you notice I wasn’t exactly the person he most wanted to see?”

“He was tired. We were up all night.”

“Fatigue doesn’t put that look in a man’s eyes.”

Eric didn’t argue further, and Randi was sorry. She needed the outlet to vent steam. Honestly, she’d love to reconnect with her family, to experience the intense love and camaraderie they’d once enjoyed. But no longer could she hang out with her brothers and father and talk shop. It hurt that they didn’t seem to want to, either, but she couldn’t blame them.

When Eric parked in front of their parents’ two-story on Sand Dune Drive, Randi let out a long, anxiety-filled breath. The number of vehicles in the driveway and on the side of the street struck her as odd. “Why is everyone here?”

“It’s an engagement party. Karl finally asked Shellie.”

Despite her roiling emotions, Randi smiled. At least she was home for a happy occasion. Hopefully, everyone would be in a good mood. “It’s about time. So, that leaves you as the sole Cooke bachelor, huh?”

He smiled, looking relieved as the tenseness in his body eased. “Unless we count you.”

“We don’t, seeing as how I don’t even have time to date.”

“Hon, there’s always time to date.”

She thought of a romantic dinner on the beach, the sound of the waves and soft music mingling. Zac Parker appeared in her daydream.

Good grief, she must be rattled if she was fantasizing about the man who’d crushed her heart when she was already hurting. She needed a good, stiff drink and about a month in the Bahamas after this job.

She started to ask Eric about when Zac had left the department and why but decided she didn’t even want to utter his name and add to her current discomfort. Plus, she was itching to see Karl so she could offer a good-natured “I told you so.” She hoped he’d set aside the past for at least tonight, long enough to accept the sisterly barb.

Thor jumped out of the truck and padded after her.

“Stay,” she said when they stepped onto the porch.

He whined then plopped down on the porch and laid his muzzle on his outstretched paws.

“Trust me, boy, I’d rather stay out here with you.”

Randi trailed Eric as they passed through the empty living room and followed the sound of loud Cooke voices coming from the back of the house. When they reached the kitchen, their mother looked up from frosting a cake. Inga’s eyes widened. She set down the frosting and came over to hug Randi.

“Honey, what a nice surprise.”

Randi hated how she dissected her mother’s words for any hint of falseness.

Inga pulled away and wiped back a strand of her hair, still its Norwegian white-blond even at age sixty.

Carol stepped into the kitchen from the deck. In a house full of blond, blue-eyed Cookes, the petite brunette stood out.

“I’m so glad you came,” Carol said. She didn’t pause before crossing the room to give Randi an enthusiastic hug. Having such a true-blue ally felt good, even when Randi herself didn’t believe she deserved it.

Randi wondered if she would have been invited to this gathering had she not already been in town. The pang in her chest caused her to bite down on her bottom lip. She’d gotten on with her life after leaving Horizon Beach, but the passage of nearly three years had done nothing to ease the pain of her loss.

“So, when did Karl pop the big question?” she asked Carol, determined to get through the night without falling apart.

“Yesterday.”

“This is one quick party.”

“We wanted to cement the deal before Karl had second thoughts.” Inga laughed, well aware of her third son’s ability to slide out of things as if he were doused in oil.

“Good point.”

Carol snaked her arm through Randi’s. “Come on outside.”

Randi balked. “I think I’ll stay in here for a bit.”

“Nonsense. Karl and Shellie are out there taking a lot of ribbing. You don’t want to miss this.”

“I’ll—”

“You never win an argument with me, so quit trying.” She leaned close to Randi’s ear. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

Randi had to laugh. At five foot two, Carol stood a full seven inches shorter than her and didn’t have near the muscle tone. Somehow, chasing a two-year-old around didn’t quite build the body the same way five-mile runs and swimming did. Still, Carol Cooke wasn’t someone ever bested in an argument.

Despite the tightening in her gut, Randi allowed her sister-in-law to lead her onto the deck filled with the scents of grilling shrimp and steaks and the sounds of her family.

The scene unfolded as if from one of those Matrix movies where everyone stops in midmotion. If she were lucky, she’d disappear before they remembered to move. She glanced over and saw her father, a once big and towering man, sitting in his wheelchair.

The wheelchair she’d put him in.

Chapter Three

“Add some shrimp to the grill,” Carol said. “We’ve got one more person who wanted to give Karl the teasing he deserves.”

Will, who was tending the meat on the grill, stared at them for a moment before turning his back and adding more shrimp.

The awkwardness eased gradually as conversations resumed, like the slow receding of a wave back out to sea. Randi wished she could ride that wave into open water, where the expanse of blue gently rolled and soothed.

Shellie crossed the deck and gave Randi a hug. She returned the gesture, grateful for another friendly face. If it weren’t for Eric and the women in this family, she’d be a total outcast.

“Randi, how have you been?” Her father sounded like he genuinely wanted to know, but the deep warmth and vitality his voice used to hold was absent.

“Fine, thanks. You?”

Everyone seemed to hold their breath as they awaited his answer, as if he might suddenly yell, I’m a paraplegic, how the hell do you think I feel? Instead, he said simply, “Okay.”

Randi had to alleviate the tension or she was going to snap. She looked at Karl. “So, you popped the question. I remember saying I would relish this day so I could say, ‘I told you so.’”

Karl offered a half grin. “You’re not the only one.”

He sounded so forlorn that everyone, including his new wife-to-be, laughed.

The laughter broke the tension for a few moments, but when they sat down to eat, it returned. Randi stood to the side, not sure where to sit. She imagined that if she took a seat the brother next to her would move.

Considering they’d not done so during previous family gatherings, she didn’t know why she thought they suddenly would. Maybe it was the fact that a fire and not a holiday had brought her to Horizon Beach this time. A fire that would remind them all of that horrible day when their lives had changed.

But she needn’t have worried. Inga guided her to a chair between her and Carol. A safe zone where she had at least the sliver of hope that she’d be able to eat something.

Though conversations gradually picked up around her, the one topic avoided was her reason for being in town. Her brothers and father had likely picked the fire apart molecule by molecule, but none of that discussion materialized now. Not even Eric brought it up, though she caught him watching her a couple of times with an expression that said he wished he could make it all normal again.

Her mother reached over at one point and patted her hand, a loving gesture but one that fell short of demanding her other offspring welcome their sister with wide-open arms. Maybe Inga loved her while still holding her responsible for her father’s condition. Could the two feelings coexist?

Randi tried to take another bite of shrimp, but it seemed to expand in her mouth with each chew. When she attempted to swallow, it nearly choked her.

She looked over at her father, who was talking baseball with Josh, the second oldest and quietest of her brothers. The Great Avoider, they’d always called him, because he didn’t like conflict. He’d never said anything negative toward her regarding the fire that had ended their father’s career, but he hadn’t stood up for her, either.

They sat outside, so close to the ocean she could hear the tide coming in, but Randi couldn’t draw in a deep breath. How odd to feel she needed fresh air when she was in the midst of it. She stood and picked up her plate.

“Thanks for dinner. It was delicious.” She looked at Karl and Shellie. “Congratulations on the engagement.”

“Don’t leave so soon,” Carol said. “The party’s just getting started.”

“Sorry. I’ve got a ton of work to do.” Randi’s heart cried out for her father to ask her to stay, but he said nothing.

Before anyone could say anything, she hurried to the kitchen, deposited her food and paper plate in the trash. The door opened behind her, but she didn’t turn as she dumped the ice in her cup down the sink.

“I wish you’d stay,” Inga said, sorrow thickening in her voice.

Randi closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry to rush, but I have lots of notes to go over and people to call before the trail goes cold.” She pasted a smile on her face as she turned to face her mother. “Thanks again for dinner.”

The sadness from Inga’s voice crept into her eyes, her mother’s heart knowing work wasn’t the reason Randi was departing so quickly. Inga sighed then went to the refrigerator and pulled out a large plate. “I know how much you love my cheesecake, so I want you to take a slice with you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I insist. I have plenty.”

Randi watched as her mother placed the generous slab of cheesecake on a plastic saucer with a plastic fork and covered it with cling wrap. She filled a small disposable foam cup with strawberry topping. Randi’s mouth watered at the remembered rich, creamy texture of the dessert.

Inga handed the cup and saucer to Randi and kissed her cheek. “Call me before you go home. Maybe we can have lunch.”

Randi fought tears and nodded. “Okay.” She headed for the front door before she lost her composure. She hadn’t been this shaken in a long time. She was halfway to the street, Thor on her heels, when Eric caught up with her.

“Go on back and enjoy yourself,” she said.

“I’ll take you to your hotel first.” He sounded sad and sorry he’d forced the situation on her.

She stopped walking but didn’t look at him. She didn’t want him to see the tears threatening. “I’ll walk. It’s a nice evening.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” Without making eye contact, she lifted onto her toes to give his cheek a quick peck. “Thanks for trying.” She headed for the sidewalk that led back to Sea Oat Road.

She’d gone half a mile when she reached the first public beach access. She took the boardwalk over the dunes and headed for the compacted part of the shoreline where the edge of the waves wet the sand. She kicked off her mules and carried them in one hand as she let the feel of the sand beneath her toes comfort her.

She focused on the sound of the surf and the fresh feel of the breeze and imagined them both carrying her worries away. She remembered that from one of the dozens of self-help books she’d read when the nightmares and bouts of crying after the accident had finally worn her down to where she could barely function.

A therapist was probably what she’d needed, but Miranda Leann Cooke had enough of her father and older brothers in her to avoid a shrink and convince herself she could handle it on her own. For the most part, she’d done okay. For now, that would have to suffice.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the first dim stars twinkled, Randi wondered if her walk on the beach had been the right choice. Couples soaking in the romance of the scene lined the shore, nuzzling on blankets or walking hand in hand. Other than a couple of joggers, she was the only solo stroller.

Not only could she not find comfort in family, the latest man in her life had decided that her job kept her away too much and had moved on to someone else. Pete hadn’t been her great love, but the loneliness still got to her during weak moments. And reinforced the fact that if she cared about someone, they always let her down.

Twenty-nine and unattached. It wasn’t as if her biological clock was ticking—she wasn’t even sure she had one. Still, it would be nice to have someone to share life’s ups and downs with, someone with whom to stroll on the beach, go on a dolphin-sightseeing cruise, someone to jog with in the mornings. Someone who wouldn’t abandon her.

Again, Zac’s face popped into her mind, only adding to her foul mood. Romance with Zac Parker was a long-gone possibility.

She stopped and watched a pelican glide through the air before nosediving into the water. Thor nuzzled her hand and looked up at her. “Not that you’re not a wonderful companion,” she said to him. “It’s just not the same.”

Randi sat down and let the edge of the cool water tickle her toes each time the waves rolled in. She thought of her brothers. Will, married and the father of a two-year-old son. Josh, married. Karl, engaged. When Eric finally paired up, she’d be the only one left alone. Why did she suddenly feel as if a dark, hungry chasm was growing inside her heart?

Normally she stayed too busy to be lonely, but being back here, seeing her family—not to mention Zac—brought that buried loneliness to the surface where it stung and ached.

The breeze brought the sound of giggles. She turned to see a young couple kissing and laughing a few yards up the beach.

She wondered what that would be like—to be that carefree, that happy, that in love. She’d been that girl once, before she’d dared to follow in her brothers’ footsteps, before she’d gone into that fire, before Zac Parker had sided with the Cooke men against her despite how close they had grown. She’d been that girl once, but no more.

A WARM SUMMER Saturday night, and the joint was hopping. Just the way Zac liked it, especially after the day he’d had. Keeping busy was key to not focusing on his latest encounter with someone looking to make him an arson suspect—or the fact that person was Randi. What the hell was it with his karma?

He handed three beers to a customer and turned to the next only to find Randi Cooke standing there. His jaw muscles tensed.

She held up a hand. “I just want a bottle of water. And do you have an empty bowl?”

“An empty bowl?”

“So I can give Thor half the water.”

Zac looked across the packed bar but didn’t see the dog.

“Don’t worry. He’s on the beach.”

Zac fished a bottle of water out of the cooler and handed it to her along with one of the disposable peanut bowls.

In return, she handed him three dollars, said thanks and walked toward the front corner of the bar. He watched as she poured part of the water into the bowl then stepped down into the sand and walked a short distance. She bent out of sight before standing back where he could see her.

After the way he’d wronged her, the only reason she could be here was the investigation. It certainly wasn’t to reconnect, no matter how much he’d once wanted that.

“Hey, can I get a cosmo?” A girl wearing a tiny, lime-green bikini top stood at the bar.

An influx of new customers and those seeking seconds…and thirds…kept him busy, but his eyes continued wandering back to where Randi had taken a seat and appeared to be eating. The Beach Bum’s menu included only beverages and peanuts, so she’d brought it with her. Sometimes she caught him looking, other times she was either eyeing the crowd or staring toward the whitecaps of the waves against the much darker expanse of water. What was she up to?

Fifteen minutes passed, then thirty. Finally, he broke. “Be back in a minute,” he said to Suz, the other bartender. He wove his way through the laughter, but it didn’t penetrate his sour mood. What rolled inside him was more like a potent mixture of anger, frustration and a dash of the desire to flee. She had yet to accuse him of anything, but he couldn’t banish the feeling that it was only a matter of time. She was, after all, a Cooke. And she’d probably relish some payback against him.

Not for the first time, he wondered if he should’ve left Horizon Beach after he’d been cleared of the arson charges two years before. But he liked the little town and didn’t want to look like a coward. And he’d savored the idea of the Cookes having to see him and live with their mistakes. Petty, yes, but he wasn’t any more perfect than the next guy.

When he drew closer to Randi, he noticed how much prettier she was in her casual clothes. And when she wasn’t questioning him. Her ponytail hung down her back, looking so silky he wanted to touch it. Man, he had no right to make fun of Adam’s hormones with the way his reacted to Randi—despite their past and the reason she was back in Horizon Beach. She appeared oblivious to the reveling going on around her. Rather, she stared toward the Gulf, her forehead creased.

“Trying to figure out how to bust me?”

She turned her head to look at him. A moment passed before her look of concentration faded. “No.”

The simple answer, combined with her more casual attire and the appearance that her thoughts had been elsewhere, alleviated some of the tension knotted in his shoulders. She looked like just another bar customer, though normally such a beautiful woman wouldn’t be sitting alone.

“You’re not staking me out?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“So you are?”

“I didn’t say that either.” She raised her eyebrows, and the barest hint of a suppressed smile curved her lips.

Very nice, intensely kissable lips.

Snap out of it, Parker. You destroyed that path a long time ago.

“I don’t want you harassing my customers.”

“Have you seen me talking to any of them?” The semismile was gone, as if she’d remembered who he was and what he’d done to her.

He stared at her, trying to figure her out.

She pointed at the chair opposite her. “Have a seat.”

“I’m working.”

“And yet you had enough time to come over to talk to me.”

She didn’t miss a beat, damn it. He looked back toward the front of the bar. Suz did seem to have the flow of business under control. Maybe he could do some questioning of his own. He pulled out the chair and sank into it.

Randi scanned the crowd. “Looks like you’ve got a good business here.”

He examined her face, her eyes, looking for the hidden meaning. “Can’t complain.”

She turned back toward him and leaned forward, propping her forearms on the table. “Listen, whatever you might think, I’m not in the business of railroading people—no matter who they are. And I’m pretty good at figuring out who the real culprit is.”

Had she just insinuated she thought he was innocent?

“Are you always right?”

“As an investigator, so far, so good.”

He noted her qualifier but chose to ignore it. Instead, he glanced toward the water and saw Thor snoozing in the sand. “Guard dog or accelerant detection?”

“Both.”

“He find anything in the rubble?”

“Maybe. We’ll know for sure when I get the lab report.” She paused so long, Zac looked back toward her. “Why’d you give up being a firefighter?”

Hot anger hit him in the gut, as if his career—one he loved—had been stolen from him only yesterday instead of two years ago.

He snorted at her question. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No. Why would I be?” She leaned back in her chair and gave him a look of challenge. “I seem to remember being a firefighter meant more than anything to you.”

More than her. She didn’t say the words. She didn’t have to.

No matter what he’d done though, did she have to pretend?

“I wasn’t hot on the idea of working with people who didn’t have my back.”

She scrunched her forehead.

“You seriously don’t know?”

“Would I have asked you if I knew?” Irritation laced her words.

“I’m surprised you didn’t hear it from your brothers.”

She looked down, but not before he saw a shadow cloud her pale blue eyes. Only a moment passed before she raised her gaze and stared straight at him. “Must have slipped their minds.”

Were they still estranged, even after all this time? Why did he find that surprising? He knew how unyielding the Cooke men were.

He glanced out toward the tide and let the familiar story flow out like the waves, curious how she’d react. “You’d been gone about six months when we got a call to a house fire. Turned out it was the house of a woman I’d just broken up with. Hell, it wasn’t really even a breakup. We’d only gone out three or four times.”

“And it was arson and the finger pointed at you?”

Zac noticed the sound of disbelief in her voice.

“Yeah. Easy target. The ex. A firefighter who understands how to make a house burn quickly. Not a native.”

“All circumstantial evidence. What about the woman? What did she say?”

He snorted a mirthless half laugh. “Swore up and down I was trying to kill her. Only she wasn’t at home. Though she normally would have been asleep at that time. She worked nights.”

“Did the investigators have any actual hard evidence on their side?” she asked, all business.

The conversation wasn’t going how Zac had expected. Where was the finger-pointing? The animosity?

“At first. They found a can of gasoline and matches in my truck, and a ‘witness’ said she’d heard me threaten my ex.”

“Pretty damning evidence, and yet here you sit.” Randi looked down at her empty water bottle. “Why did your ex-girlfriend think you tried to kill her?”

“She was psychotic.”

“Really?” Her voice rose slightly in surprise.

“I don’t know if she’s been diagnosed, but it’s there. You don’t notice at first, but that’s why I broke it off.” That, and the fact it had just never felt right. Not like his time with Randi had.

“And she didn’t take it well.”

Damn, it was odd talking to Randi about another woman.

“Obviously not. She burned her own place and tried to pin it on me.”

She tilted her head a fraction. “They proved that?”

“Yeah.” He watched her face, trying to figure out if she thought someone had made a mistake and he really was guilty after all. Hell, he’d strap himself to a damn lie detector machine if it’d erase this new suspicion.

“How?” She didn’t sound accusatory, simply curious.

“She told a friend how she got the idea after reading about an unsolved arson in the newspaper, how she planted the evidence and got her coked-up neighbor to claim to be a witness to me threatening her. The friend told the police.”

“And you didn’t go back to the department after you were cleared?”

“My innocence didn’t matter to a lot of people, including your family.”

She crossed her arms and shifted in her seat. “They thought you did it?”

“They sure didn’t back me up. Can’t say I wanted to be best buddies after that.”

“Why did you stay in Horizon Beach?” She stared, unwavering, at him, her captivating blue eyes making his breath catch. How could he still be attracted to her after all this time? When she could put him through the hell of suspicion again? They weren’t even the same people they used to be. They didn’t know each other anymore. But his body didn’t seem to mind.

Randi was listening to him, wasn’t she? Wasn’t that more than her brothers had done?

Zac let out a sigh. “Sometimes I ask myself the same question.” He stood and stalked back toward the bar. This time, he was the one who needed a drink.

RANDI WATCHED the power in Zac’s movements as he zigzagged through the crowd. Heat surged to her face when she realized she was watching him in a purely I’m-still-attracted-to-him way. Only it wasn’t the same as before. While he’d been young and exuberant then, now he was all man and rough around the edges. Accusation and the loss of a dream did that to a person. But why did she care? Hadn’t he just received a little of his own medicine? He was no stranger to turning his back on someone he supposedly cared about.

She needed to ask Eric about the other side of Zac’s story. Lord knew most of her brothers were aces at holding a grudge, but she hoped Eric would give her the honest story, one not tainted by hard feelings. It was one thing to hold a grudge when someone had done something to deserve it, quite another when they hadn’t.

And she couldn’t abide a wrong—even if it had been perpetrated against someone who’d once wronged her.

Someone who’d broken her heart.

Chapter Four

Randi slept badly. She wasn’t sure if it was the less-than-comfortable bed, her inability to stop thinking about her family or the disturbing nightmare in which Zac was trapped inside a burning house while her brothers stood back and watched, but it didn’t matter. Bad sleep was bad sleep, and Randi rolled out of bed as daylight was creeping into Horizon Beach. She changed into her running clothes and shoes, pulled her hair into a high ponytail and roused Thor. He yawned wide and tried to sneak a few more winks.

“If I have to get up at the crack of dawn, so do you.”

The horizon was as pink as some of the beach homes when Randi and Thor hit the beach at a brisk jog. Thor chased shorebirds and frolicked in and out of the surf.

Gradually, the kinks in Randi’s back and her headache ebbed. She’d missed running along the beach at dawn, the way the world seemed to be asleep and the day full of possibility. She sometimes managed to get over to Pensacola Beach for a morning run, but even that had become more rare as her job took her all over Florida and required increasing amounts of her time.

She wasn’t complaining. Someone had to make sure the firebugs didn’t get away with their crimes. Few things were more destructive than fire. Victims lost their homes, their businesses, their very lives. Unfortunately, there were people out there whose fascination with it led to all kinds of loss—including that experienced by her father.

The latest arsonist, if indeed the Horizon Vista fire was declared arson, had put her brothers’ lives at risk. So she’d be particularly happy to send him to prison.

Dissecting the case brought her thoughts back to Zac—and how he’d looked in the bar the night before. Tall, lean, corded muscles lining his strong arms. Attractive in that carefree, tanned sort of way. Maybe not so carefree. Her appearance had erased that.

When her mind focused on his physical attributes and her involuntary flushed reaction to them, she increased her pace, running instead of jogging. She ran until her muscles screamed at her to slow or move to a surface easier to run on than the packed, sloping sand. She ignored the plea, instead pushing harder. Her strides eventually brought her to the scene of the crime, causing her to slow then stop.

She stared at the hulking, black frame of Oldham’s building, the suspect list running through her mind. Slowly, she circled the building, looking for anything she might have missed in her initial survey. She completed the circle empty-handed, finding herself on the side next to Zac’s bar.

Despite her gut feeling that Zac couldn’t be the arsonist, she’d have to thoroughly investigate the possibility. She’d depended on Cooke instinct once and it had cost her father the use of his legs and her the comfort and closeness of her family.

But when she officially cleared Zac, then what? Would she be tempted to act on her attraction? After his failure to stand up for her following the fire that had injured her father, how could she even consider that? Because part of her didn’t want to hold a grudge like other members of her family, no matter how hard it would be to trust him again.

She spent the next several hours interviewing potential witnesses, including the owner of the hotel behind Zac’s bar. Her instinctual belief in Zac’s innocence took a hit when the man said he couldn’t imagine Zac burning down Oldham’s condos, but that it was possible. Then he mentioned the old arson charge, even though Zac had been cleared of that. How often was she going to encounter that prejudice?

But no matter how she tried, she couldn’t believe Zac could be guilty. Zac had been a good firefighter, working as hard as the rest of them. She didn’t rely on instinct anymore. It made her nervous that she did now, believing Zac had nothing to do with the fire. She refused to think about being wrong.

ZAC THREW a line into the water, hoping a little fishing would distract him. Since Randi had shown up, any chance at peace of mind had vanished.

The first time he’d ever seen her, she’d been dressed in a little pink dress and on her way to a wedding. He’d been stunned into silence. Even when he’d later seen her sweaty and wearing dirty turnout gear, she’d still been pretty. He’d pursued her until she’d finally caved and agreed to go out with him.

He sighed. That bright, fun Randi didn’t seem to exist anymore. But while the years since her father’s accident might have hardened her, she was even more beautiful than before, damn it.

He watched as a couple of fishing vessels motored out to sea. The sky was blindingly blue, making the water the gorgeous blue-green that attracted vacationers to the Gulf Coast. If he’d left Horizon Beach after his first brush with arson accusations, he wouldn’t have had to deal with Randi Cooke or Bud Oldham, but then he’d miss mornings and views like this.

Zac glanced toward shore, where Adam lounged in his concession shack reading the latest issue of Sports Illustrated. To think that only a couple of days before, Zac’s life had been similarly carefree. Now, he spent the hours he wasn’t working or sleeping following in Randi’s footsteps, doing his own investigation. Asking witnesses what they had seen, finding out all he could about Bud Oldham. The sooner the real arsonist was caught, the sooner he could go back to his normal life, free of suspicion and frustrating feelings about Randi Cooke.

Movement at the beach end of the pier drew his attention. Randi stepped onto the pier, Thor at her side, and walked over to where Adam sat. Zac resisted the urge to jump into the water to avoid her and his mentally impaired desire to kiss her. He tried to ignore her, but found himself glancing toward her and Adam every few seconds. Was she asking Adam about the fire, about him? Or was he being paranoid?

The minutes crept by, Zac feeling trapped at the end of the pier and hating himself for the reaction. Why couldn’t he just walk by Randi as if he’d never seen her before? Acting as if he wasn’t concerned by her presence would be the best plan.

While he was looking back to where she stood in full investigative mode, something tugged on his line. The jerk surprised him, and he almost lost hold of his fishing pole. He reeled in the line, bringing the fish toward the surface, causing it to splash the water in a vain effort to get away. After a few minutes of wrestling, Zac pulled the flounder over the side of the pier. The large, flat, speckled fish flopped against the planking, desperate to free himself.

The fish represented some good dinners, but something about the crazed, trapped look in its eyes made Zac pause. He knew exactly how the fish felt. He stooped, freed the fish from the hook then let it drop over the side of the pier.

“Didn’t figure you for a catch-and-release kind of guy.”

Zac didn’t turn toward the sound of Randi’s voice behind him. “Just goes to show you never know everything about a person, no matter how good an investigator you are.”

She took a couple of steps closer. “You might be right, but it doesn’t keep me from trying.”

Zac stared at the waves lapping at the pier. “That I don’t doubt.”

“In the interest of officially removing yourself from the suspect list, why don’t you help me out a bit? Did you find anything useful during your investigation yet?”

So she knew. The good ol’ Horizon Beach gossip mill at work.

Zac shrugged. “Not really. Could be anyone, granted you’ve determined it’s arson.”

“So no one stands out from the crowd?”

She seemed genuinely interested, despite his defensive attitude. But it was her job to investigate every possibility. He didn’t keep track of the locals like he used to. Most of his contact was with tourists and any residents who ventured into the Beach Bum.

He didn’t really have close connections with anyone despite the time he’d lived there. The few friendships he’d begun to build after moving to Horizon Beach had collapsed the minute the “evidence” pointed at him two years before. Adam was the only person he could call a good friend here, though he had regular customers and neighbors with whom he enjoyed talking. Now that he looked at it like that, it seemed crazy to stay. But something about this slice of coastline had kept him from selling his home and moving on. At first, part of that reason had been a hope that Randi would return and he’d find a way to apologize. That, plus he was stubborn and didn’t like being pushed around.

“No one in particular. There was a general dislike of the guy and the project. You could probably find a so-called motive for about three-quarters of the residents. People like it to stay the same here, and a fifteen-story building didn’t really fit in.”

“It’s hard to stop change sometimes.”

Zac glanced toward the burned building. “Looks like someone decided you could.”

Randi didn’t look at the building. Instead, she kept staring at Zac. He let the silence sit there like an unwanted guest. But instead of giving in and asking other questions, Randi didn’t lose her focus.

Zac turned his gaze slowly toward Randi when he sensed her continued stare. “You’ve turned into a tough cookie, haven’t you?”

“Some would say so.” This morning, she hid her emotions so well that he couldn’t tell whether she considered it a compliment or whether she was remembering how people like him had forced her to harden herself.

“I’m betting some of those are sitting in prison with arson convictions hanging around their necks.”

Randi walked to the end of the pier and leaned back against the railing. “You’d win that bet.”

Zac watched her, wary but also missing the little T-shirt she’d worn the night before. “I’m not planning on joining them, particularly since I’m innocent.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve never sent an innocent man to prison.”

“You sure of that?”

She didn’t flinch from his stare or question. “Positive.”

“You’re definitely a Cooke.”

Her expression tightened. “And by that you mean?”

“So sure you can’t be wrong.” Zac took a step toward Randi but stopped when Thor sprang to attention at her side, evidently ready to chomp off an appendage with his powerful jaws if necessary. “Everyone is wrong at some point.”

Her gaze caught his, and unspoken words about the past swirled between them. He nearly told her he was sorry for siding with her brothers, for saying her going into that fire had led to her father’s catastrophic injury, but enough arrogant Cooke flared in those blue eyes to raise his hackles.

“Just make sure you’re the only one you hurt when you’re so sure,” he said.

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

There it was, a hint of the hurt that resided below her steely, distant exterior. Damn it if his feelings didn’t soften a little.

“Like I said, everyone’s wrong at some point.”

Zac grabbed his fishing rod and walked the length of the pier toward the parking lot. If he didn’t get away from Randi, he was going to do something crazy like pull her into his arms. He didn’t have that right anymore. And even if she didn’t consider him a suspect in the fire, he doubted her belief in him extended an inch beyond that. As he left her behind, the thought hurt. He deserved the pain.

RANDI WATCHED as Zac walked away, stunned by what had sounded halfway like an apology for how he’d treated her before. But his command that she should be certain she didn’t hurt someone when she was wrong had brought guilt and pain to the surface, emotions she needed tucked well away while she worked. It felt incredibly wrong to have those feelings while also appreciating the mighty nice picture he painted as he walked away in worn jeans and a T-shirt that had seen approximately eight billion washings. And the resurgence of feelings more serious than simple attraction didn’t help.

The old wound she’d thought long buried felt raw against snippets of their time together—walks on the beach, flirtatious whispers to each other at the fire station, the night she’d finally felt comfortable enough to make love with him. Their lovemaking had still filled her senses when they’d been called to that fateful fire. Her heart ached when she remembered how he’d looked at her afterward—with anger and accusation.

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