They’re turning up the heat...on love

Haunted by a life he couldn’t save, Omar Ewing walked away from his successful family business to become a firefighter—risking his own life every day. Now he’s sworn to track down an arsonist who’s already struck twice. Working with beautiful local journalist Gabrielle Leonard definitely has its perks...until the man who finds it safer to play the field is in danger of losing his heart.

Gabrielle has her own reasons for teaming up with Omar to investigate the suspicious blazes. But the seductive San Francisco firefighter is bringing her dangerously close to a flame that has burned her before. With each scorching kiss, Omar is branding her his woman. But when Gabrielle becomes a target, will she be able to trust her future to the man who has vowed to protect her at all costs?

And then he did it. He pulled her into his arms, and she gasped slightly just before his lips came down on hers. Even as he started to kiss her, he wasn’t sure what he was doing. There was just so much fire between them and this was the only thing that would quench it.

Gabrielle stiffened in his arms, a moan of protest escaping her lips. But as he slipped his arms around her slim waist and pulled her against his body, he felt the moment when she surrendered to the kiss.

She softened against him, and Lord, all of the tension ebbed out of Omar’s body. This was how he wanted her. Her lips and body pressed against his. As she kissed him back, the woman who seemed only able to fight with him morphed into someone else. She was blossoming into—

Gabrielle violently pushed herself out of his arms. As she looked up at him, her eyes shot fire. “What the heck are you doing?” she demanded.

“Kissing you.”

“I know that. But, my God, why?”

“Seemed like the most effective way to quiet you,” Omar muttered. He wasn’t surprised when her eyes widened with fury.

Dear Reader,

Sometimes it’s tough being a romance writer. Imagining all those hot heroes and sexy scenes? Delving into a world where that sexy hero becomes putty in the right woman’s hands? It’s hard work!

Of course, I’m kidding. Not about writing being hard work, but it’s certainly the best work for the very reasons I mentioned above. What’s better than writing about a hot hero and a feisty heroine who meet and there’s instant fire?

That’s exactly what happens in Passion Ignited. Literally, sparks fly between Omar and Gabrielle because they’re at a fire scene. And also figuratively, because the heat between them is immediate.

I know how much you love continuing stories—and a playboy hero who doesn’t want to settle down. That’s why this book is about Omar, who you may recognize from the first two books in my Love on Fire series. Little does Omar know, his playboy days are numbered! This was a fun story to write, and I hope you all love it!

Kayla

Passion Ignited

Kayla Perrin

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KAYLA PERRIN is a multi-award winning, multi-published USA TODAY and Essence bestselling author. She’s been writing since she could hold a pencil and sent her first book to a publisher when she was just thirteen years old. Since 1998, she’s had over fifty novels and novellas published. She’s been featured in Ebony, RT Book Reviews, South Florida Business Journal, the Toronto Star and other Canadian and US publications. Her works have been translated into Italian, German, Spanish and Portuguese. In 2011, Kayla received the prestigious Harry Jerome Award for excellence in the arts in Canada. She lives in the Toronto area with her daughter.

You can find Kayla on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. Please visit her website at kaylaperrin.com.

For Chloe,

my beautiful and talented daughter.

Your drive and artistic ability

inspire me everyday.

Never give up on your dreams!

I can’t wait to see how high your star rises.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Copyright

Chapter 1

The somber rendition of “Going Home” filled the air, played as it always was, by the bagpipe and drum band. The rhythmic sound of dress boots hitting the asphalt in unison accompanied the sound of the music. Firefighters from all of Ocean City’s fire departments marched in formation, following the ladder truck that carried Dean Dunbar’s flag-draped coffin.

Omar Ewing hated the sound of the pipe and drum band. Hated it with a passion. Besides the rare happy occasions—like Saint Patrick’s Day celebrations—this type of music always signified a funeral.

Firefighters from well beyond Ocean City’s borders in California—even from outside the country—lined the streets for the procession. Police officers and paramedics were among the crowd, too. The case of the Ocean City arsonist had garnered international attention and the turnout to pay final respects to Lt. Dean Dunbar was impressive.

It was exactly as Lt. Omar Ewing knew it would be. Firefighters and other first responders always supported each other when someone was killed in the line of duty. If it was feasible, they traveled as far as they could to attend the funeral of a fallen brother or sister.

This was no exception.

The procession approached the spot where two fire trucks were on opposite sides of the street, their ladders extended on an angle toward each other. Held up by the ladders was a giant American flag. This was a day to remember Dean’s sacrifice. People were proud of his sacrifice. But all Omar could think about was that it shouldn’t have happened.

He and the rest of his brothers knew the risks of the job they did, of course. But that didn’t make it any easier.

Cameras flashed, video cameras rolled. This story would be on every news station and in newspapers across the country.

A huge number of civilians had come out. They stood on both sides of the road, many waving American flags. A good firefighter had fallen. Dean Dunbar had just been doing his job, protecting the citizens of Ocean City by battling a blaze that had threatened an entire neighborhood. The fire at a meat packaging company had been a monster. Several other firefighters had sustained injuries. All because some sicko was out there taking pleasure in wreaking havoc on the city.

Omar glanced up at the sky. It was bright and sunny, without even a cloud. It seemed illogical that it was such a beautiful day when he and his colleagues were mourning the loss of a fallen brother.

Dean Dunbar had been a firefighter for twenty-two years. His wife and two teenage boys were absolutely devastated. It was hard to see them so grief stricken. His wife in particular was barely able to contain herself. Her two sons were helping hold her upright.

He should have been able to retire and enjoy his family after putting in so many years with the fire department.

But nothing was guaranteed. Not in life, and especially when your job involved putting your life on the line.

Omar knew the risks, but he would have it no other way. For him, saving a life was the ultimate reward. There was no better feeling than knowing he could save someone. It was the reason that he and his fellow firefighters did this dangerous job.

The procession arrived at the church. Dunbar’s widow began to sob as the pallbearers took the coffin from the top of the fire truck. The bagpipe and drums continued to play.

Omar scanned the faces in the crowd. Was the arsonist there? Was he watching with a sense of smug satisfaction?

Omar could only look around briefly before continuing into the church, where he and all the mourners would pay their final respects to Lt. Dean Dunbar.

* * *

Hours later, many of the Ocean City firefighters were packed into a bar. They had come to raise a glass for Dean Dunbar, something they did after every funeral. Omar knew that Dean would want it no other way.

Omar, Mason and a few more of the men from Fire Station Two were sitting at the far end of the bar. There was faint laughter as people remembered Dean fondly. But there was also a lot of sadness and anger.

“We have to catch this guy,” Omar said.

“Absolutely,” Mason agreed. “This has gone on long enough. Now we’ve lost one of our own.”

Omar took a pull of his beer. “Somebody, somewhere knows who this guy is. A girlfriend, a sibling.”

“We’ll get him,” Mason said. “We have to.”

“I have a bad feeling that the arsonist is going to ramp up his game,” Omar commented. “I’ll bet he was in the crowd, watching the procession. Probably got a kick out of seeing the family grieving.”

“There are a lot of deranged people out there,” Paul, another firefighter from their station, said. “Now that someone has died, hopefully everyone will be vigilant. Anything suspicious, people need to report. Whether that’s on the street, or at home. I don’t want to lose another firefighter. And definitely not a civilian.”

Omar raised his beer. “For Dean Dunbar.”

Mason, Paul and the firefighters within earshot raised their glasses. “For Dean Dunbar,” they said in unison.

As Omar drank, he knew there was one other thing they could do to honor Dean’s memory. And that was to find the arsonist.

Hopefully before he struck again.

* * *

Surprisingly—and thankfully—there were no fires over the Christmas holiday. People had gone from being fearful and waiting for the other shoe to drop, to feeling hopeful again. Maybe the arsonist had suddenly gotten a conscience. Maybe he’d gotten bored with setting fires. Or maybe he had moved away.

Whatever the reason, the air seemed clearer in Ocean City, and the sun brighter. People were living their lives again. Until the first week of January when the arsonist struck again. A Chinese restaurant was set ablaze just after midnight.

Tom Sully, the fire chief at Station Two, was on the scene, giving orders. “Ewing, Williams. Get that ladder to the roof so we attack the fire from there. Roman, DeNiro—get a hose to the back of the building. Duff, Riley—you two attack it from the front. The restaurant closed at ten, thank God, so there’s no one inside. Let’s kill this thing—fast!”

A small crowd had gathered on the sidewalk. People stared from the high-rise across the street, looking down undoubtedly with horror at the chaos. But had anyone seen the arsonist?

“When are you going to catch the jerk?” someone yelled.

“How long do we have to live in fear?”

Omar and his fellow firefighters set about fighting the fire. Even if they had time to answer the questions being asked, they would be unable to do so because they didn’t have the answers.

Omar was as determined to see this arsonist caught as anyone else. The fires needed to stop—and the sooner, the better.

As Omar climbed the ladder to go onto the top of the building, fire exploded through a window. Instinctively, he lurched backward. People below him screamed.

His heart pounding, Omar regained his footing and continued up the ladder. This would be yet another building lost. By the time they had arrived, the entire structure was on fire. Whoever was behind this knew just how to operate under the cover of darkness so that the response of any fire station would be too late to stop the most damage.

Omar glanced over his shoulder as he neared the top of the building. Despite the late hour, the crowd had grown.

Was the arsonist among them, watching them at this very minute?

* * *

It took a good hour to put out the fire. In that time, the crowd had continued to grow instead of wane. Omar could hear the angry rants among the spectators. People were tired of their city being under attack. People wanted the arsonist apprehended immediately.

Omar went over to Tyler McKenzie, the engineer on the pump truck. He was spraying water from the nozzle of a hose, allowing firefighters to drink and cool down. Naturally, fires were hot. But add to that, the protective gear they had to wear, and they all were sweating profusely underneath.

“Omar, drink,” Tyler said.

Omar put his face beneath the spray of water, sighing as the cold water splashed his hot face. Then he angled his head to drink several gulps.

As he stepped away from the hose, his eyes were on the crowd. Suddenly, he spotted a face that gave him pause. It was a woman wearing a baseball cap pulled low over the top of her head.

A black baseball cap.

He had seen her before...at the last fire. He was sure of it.

He watched her. Unlike the other spectators, she wasn’t checking out the scene before her. She seemed fidgety, her head turned to the right. Had she seen Omar looking at her, and was now avoiding making eye contact?

Suddenly, she started to move. She weaved her way through the crowd, walking briskly.

Omar started after her.

“Ewing,” Chief Sully called.

“Chief, I think I saw something.”

“What?” the chief asked.

But Omar didn’t have time to answer. He only had time to give chase. He made his way along the street in front of the crowd of onlookers, vaguely aware that they were observing him with curiosity.

Someone gasped as he pushed his way into the crowd. “Excuse me,” he said. “Sorry.” And kept going.

He saw the woman—dressed in dark colors—round the corner into an alley. Omar started to jog. As he got to the opening of the alley, he saw her running.

She was clearly trying to get away.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Omar muttered. A woman? A woman was the one setting the fires in Ocean City?

That was the only thing that explained why she would be running after he had picked her out of the crowd.

He started to run faster. With his long legs, he caught up to her in no time. “Stop right there!” he yelled.

The woman didn’t stop, just glanced over her shoulder at him before turning sharply to the right.

Omar picked up speed, darting around the corner she had just taken. He saw her heading toward Clark Street. Within seconds, he was upon her again. He reached out and grabbed her by the arm, and whipped her around. As he pulled her toward him, she landed against his body.

She looked up at him, her eyes flaming.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“What are you doing?” he countered.

“I was chasing the arsonist!”

“Funny,” Omar said wryly. “That’s exactly what I was going to say.”

She looked at him, aghast. “What?”

“I saw you. And you saw that I saw you in the crowd. Then you took off.”

Her eyes widened with indignation as she forced her body away from his. “Didn’t you see that guy?”

“Right, lady. The only person I saw was you. Looking suspicious in the crowd, then taking off.” Omar tightened his hand on her upper arm. He wasn’t about to let her go. “The whole city’s been waiting for this day. I’ve got to admit, I didn’t expect the person terrorizing Ocean City to be a woman.”

“You must be out of your mind.”

“I’m the one out of my mind?” Omar retorted.

“I’m not the arsonist!”

“You can tell your story to the police.” Omar started walking with her toward Clark Street, but she dug her heels into the ground and tried to yank her arm free.

“Let me go!” she demanded.

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“Sure I am.”

When Omar continued to drag her toward Clark Street, she groaned, and then said, “Why am I not surprised? No one in this town is doing their job to catch the arsonist.”

“Nice try.”

With her free hand, she whipped off her baseball cap. Her dark shoulder-length hair spilled free. Omar’s immediate thought was how beautiful she was. He could see her face fully now beneath the streetlights. What would drive a woman like her to commit such heinous crimes?

“You don’t recognize me?”

Omar shrugged. Wait... He hadn’t dated her in the past, had he?

No. He would remember her.

He saw a look flash on her face. It was subtle. Disappointment? Perhaps a little surprise? He wasn’t sure.

“I’m not who you think I am,” she said. She craned her neck to look around the corner onto Clark Street, and then threw up a hand in frustration. “And my God, you just let the arsonist get away.”

The sound of exasperation in her tone caused Omar to halt. Was she actually telling the truth?

“Why are you out here dressed in dark colors?” Omar asked. “And why did you run when you saw me?”

“I didn’t run when I saw you,” she quipped. “I ran because I was certain I saw the arsonist.”

Frowning, Omar released her. “You were serious about that?”

“Yes!”

“Who are you? And why are you out here alone trying to take down the arsonist?”

“Because someone has to.” She let out a frustrated breath, then reached into the pocket of her jacket. “I’m Gabrielle Leonard. I thought you might recognize me when I took my hat off, but you probably don’t watch community television.”

Omar said nothing.

“Anyway,” she continued. “I’m a producer and host at Cable Four. I have a very successful show. Your Hour—”

“Ahh,” Omar interjected, finally understanding. “So you’re a reporter, out here trying to get a scoop.”

“This isn’t about a scoop,” she said. “This is about catching the person who—as you said—has been terrorizing our city. But thanks to you, he just got away.”

Her eyes shot fire as she studied him, yet all Omar could think was how attractive she looked. Was she always this heated?

He kept a level head as he said, “You’re a reporter. Not a cop. If you had pertinent information, you should have given it to the authorities.” Now Omar was beginning to get irritated. All too often reporters got in the way—because they wanted to get the almighty story. “You were in the crowd. You looked suspicious. And that’s why I came after you. I hope to God the person you saw wasn’t actually the arsonist.” His eyes roamed over her body. She was all of five foot five, maybe a hundred and ten pounds. “How exactly were you planning to take him down? By batting your eyelashes?”

“Oh, that’s priceless. Now you’re going to throw out sexist insults?”

“You’re a reporter, not a cop.”

“I’m a TV host and producer.”

“Whatever. The last thing we need is a civilian inserting herself into the investigation.”

“Someone’s got to catch this guy,” Gabrielle muttered.

“Yeah—the professionals.”

“Fine. He’s long gone, anyway.” She glared at him, as if to emphasize that it was his fault. “Now that I’ve been duly lectured by you, I’ll take it into consideration for when the next fire happens.”

Oh, she had a mouth on her. Both literally and figuratively. Her full lips looked sweet. Yet she spewed such sarcasm and sourness. Why was she treating him like the enemy?

“Goodbye.” She turned in the direction of Clark Street. But Omar put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

She turned, looking up at him in surprise.

Omar said, “Not so fast.”

Chapter 2

Gabrielle’s eyes widened as she looked at the firefighter. Why was he stopping her now?

“Don’t tell me you still don’t believe me,” she said.

“I do...believe you.”

“Then why aren’t you letting me go?”

He didn’t speak for a moment, and she noticed the way he was suddenly looking at her. There was something in his eyes. It was a look that Gabrielle had seen many a time. Most notably, with her own ex-fiancé—when he had leveled his eyes on other women.

This man was a player. It was practically written on his forehead. So often, the attractive ones were.

“If you are out here hoping to get a scoop, I have to ask that you don’t insert yourself into this investigation. Things get complicated when journalists get in the way.”

Gabrielle gritted her teeth, and held back a nasty retort. Of course, he didn’t believe her. He clearly thought she was interested in nabbing the arsonist for the glory. But that had nothing to do with it. She was in this for justice.

Justice for her parents.

Her parents had been victims of the arsonist. Their restaurant—the culmination of their hopes and dreams—had been burned down after only six months in operation. Two weeks later, her father had had a heart attack. The stress had gotten to him, and he’d almost died.

“I’m trying to catch this arsonist, because somebody has to. He has the city gripped with fear, and it’s mind-boggling that no one is able to figure out who he is and stop him.”

“You don’t think we’re doing our job?”

“Not good enough,” Gabrielle said.

She saw a little bit of irritation flash in the firefighter’s eyes. And she wondered why she was goading him. They shouldn’t be at odds. Ultimately they had the same goal. Yet, they were arguing.

“Why don’t you have a camera crew with you?” Omar suddenly asked.

The question caught her off guard. She wasn’t prepared for it. “I’m not here in an official capacity with the station. I already told you, this isn’t about me getting a story.”

“But you were at the last fire. Maybe the one before that, too. I’ve seen you before. That’s why, when I saw you tonight, I thought it was suspicious. More than a coincidence.”

“It is more than a coincidence. I heard about the fire on the radio, and I came down to the scene. Same as I did with the last fire. You guys are busy, and I wanted to see if I spotted anyone in the crowd who looked suspicious. I came armed with my cell phone camera.”

“You got the arsonist on camera? Why didn’t you say so?”

“You see how dark it is out here. I got pictures, but they’re not great. And I couldn’t get close to the guy.”

“Can you give me a description of him?”

“Not exactly.”

Omar chuckled mercilessly. “But you were so certain that you were chasing the right guy. This is ridiculous.”

The only thing ridiculous was that he was paying no attention to her at all. He wasn’t getting it.

“I couldn’t tell who he was because I wasn’t right beside him. And because he also was wearing a hat. And it’s dark out. I can tell you that he’s a white male. I saw him at the last fire as well. When I saw him tonight... I just knew.”

“Then why didn’t you try to get the attention of someone in authority?” Omar asked.

“I...” She had been too absorbed with trying to keep her eye on the person she believed to be the arsonist. “I’m not sure it would have done any good. The authorities in the city seem completely inept at catching this perp.”

“Ouch.” Omar made a face. “For such a beautiful lady, you certainly know how to hurt a guy’s feelings.”

Then he smiled. And Gabrielle’s jaw went slack. She couldn’t believe it. He was flirting with her!

“Omar!”

The firefighter turned. Another firefighter—Gabrielle recognized Mason Foley, because he had been in the papers some months earlier—was striding toward them through the alley. “Did you find something?”

“Thought I did,” Omar answered. “But I was wrong, apparently.”

Mason’s eyes narrowed on Gabrielle. “Her?”

“I saw her in the crowd,” Omar explained. “She was acting suspicious. I saw her take off, so I did too. When I caught up to her, she said she was in pursuit of the alleged arsonist.”

“Until he got in the way and stopped me,” Gabrielle quipped.

“You’re Gabrielle Leonard, aren’t you?” Mason asked.

“Yes.” At least this guy didn’t only read the sports pages, she thought sourly.

“The guy got away,” Omar said. “Did you see anyone running down Clark Street?”

Mason shook his head. “Naw.”

“Damn.”

Gabrielle looked up at Omar. There was something about him that looked familiar. And his name...

Yes! It came to her. Hadn’t he dated a friend of a friend? Two, from what she remembered. Both had been head over heels for Omar, but he’d broken their hearts. There was some story about a love triangle. It had been a few years back. But it was becoming clearer in her mind. Omar had played both the women. In the end, both had been devastated.

“Omar, we need you back at the truck,” Mason said.

Omar suddenly met her gaze. And there was that look again. Now Gabrielle could define it. It was the bedroom eye. She quickly averted her gaze to Mason, who nodded at her, and said, “Have a good day.”

Then she looked at Omar again, and though it was a quick glance, she felt something she didn’t want to feel. A spark of attraction. There was an undeniable sizzle between the two of them.

She jerked her gaze away and turned down the alley.

“Gabrielle,” Omar called.

But she pretended not to hear. Because the last thing she wanted to do was have any further involvement with him.

* * *

“Don’t quit your day job,” Tyler McKenzie joked when all of the firefighters had returned to Station Two. “You’d make a lousy detective, Omar.”

The guys had a good laugh at Omar’s expense. Mason, having gotten a kick out of the fact that Omar had “nabbed” Gabrielle Leonard, had enthusiastically shared the story. With everyone.

“Very funny, Tyler,” Omar said.

“Wasn’t Stacy Jackson out there with Channel 10 news?” Mason asked. “Maybe she’s the arsonist.”

More raucous laughter from the guys.

Omar rolled his eyes. Okay, so he had made a colossal mistake. Gabrielle Leonard was clearly not the arsonist.

“I couldn’t see her face,” Omar said. “She was wearing a hat.” Though he wouldn’t have recognized her even in the light of day. He never tuned in to to any Cable Four programming.

“Surprising,” Tyler said. “You mean there’s actually a woman in Ocean City you don’t recognize? I thought you’ve dated all of them.”

“You keep that up, you won’t make it to your wedding,” Omar warned him.

Tyler had recently gotten engaged—for the second time. His first engagement had been a mistake, something Omar and the other guys at the station had known almost from the beginning. But Tyler had hung on far longer than he should have, trying to make things work. It had been futile.

But a few months ago, Tyler had met someone else. Their connection had been wild and furious, and now he seemed happier than ever.

Omar had felt an instant connection to Gabrielle, as well. Sure, she was beautiful. That was obvious. But it wasn’t simply her beauty. There was something else. There had to be—because she had been undeniably angry with him, yet he still felt a spark.

“What was some woman from a TV station doing at the fire scene anyway?” Omar asked.

“She’s not just some woman,” Mason said. “She’s Gabrielle Leonard. A local celebrity.”

“Yeah well, I never watch community television.”

“We don’t even want to know what stations you watch!” Tyler said, then laughed.

“You’re a regular comedian today,” Omar said to Tyler. “I don’t have to watch it, when I can be out there living it.”

There was a round of ooohs and enthusiastic laughter. Someone patted him on the back, and said, “Our resident stud.”

Omar chuckled. His reputation at the station was one of a ladies’ man. And it was true, he had dated a lot. But he hadn’t dated seriously, at least not in recent years. For that reason, the guys all thought he wasn’t serious about finding a girlfriend.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t serious about it. He just hadn’t met anyone who had really intrigued him. Oh, he’d met plenty of beautiful women. And he dated many of them. But they all failed to interest him past the initial attraction. So what was he supposed to do? Settle?

“That’s our Omar,” one of the paramedics said. She was female, and she liked to tease Omar for his playboy ways.

It wasn’t that he was simply a playboy. At least, that’s not how he set out to live his life. And he knew he wasn’t getting any younger. He was thirty-six. Like practically the rest of society, the idea of settling down and having a family was one that appealed to him. But he first had to find the right woman.

Omar knew that if he told his colleagues at the station that, they would break into spontaneous laughter. He had to take responsibility for his own reputation, but part of his carefree attitude had been an act. He didn’t talk about it, but Omar had lost the love of his life. Losing Mika had devastated him. And since her death, he hadn’t met anyone else who could compare.

His mind went back to Gabrielle. He’d felt something with her in that alley. Something he wanted to explore.

The problem was, she had walked away from him when he had called out. She’d ignored him, making it clear that she wanted nothing more to do with him.

Well, Omar would see about that. One way or another.

* * *

“What are you doing?” Gabrielle asked.

Omar pulled her toward his body, and looked down into her eyes as if trying to claim her with his gaze. “Kissing you.”

He began to lower his lips slowly, and just when his lips touched hers, Gabrielle felt her body explode.

Her eyes popped open. For a moment, Gabrielle didn’t know what was going on. Her heart was beating fast. She was in her bed, she soon realized. Which meant...

Which meant she had been dreaming about Omar.

Dear God in heaven, what was wrong with her? She glanced at the clock. It was just after four in the morning, and she needed to be up in a few hours. Yet, she had been sleeping fitfully. For some reason, her mind wouldn’t stop replaying what had happened the previous night. How she had been running down that alley, then suddenly stopped by Omar. How the perp had gotten away.

The smoldering look Omar had given her...

Sitting up in the bed, she reached for her water bottle on the night table. She knew why she kept replaying what had happened. And it was because she had been so close to nailing the arsonist.

Did she look like a crazy person? The fact that Omar actually believed she had been the arsonist was baffling.

As she sipped from a glass of water at her bedside, she conceded that perhaps she had looked fidgety and suspicious. She had been keeping one eye on the fire, and one eye on the person she thought had started it. She didn’t want to get too close and scare him off. But she had tried—surreptitiously—to get photos of him.

She wasn’t sure if she had spooked him, but suddenly he had started to move out of the crowd. Toward the alley. There had been no time to try to get anyone else’s attention. Gabrielle had done the only thing she could do. Follow him.

How exactly were you planning to take him down? By batting your eyelashes?

The firefighter’s sarcastic question sounded in her mind. Would he have asked her that had she been a male civilian? Or would he have applauded a male for a valiant effort to take down a wanted criminal?

Gabrielle lay back down on the bed and snuggled with her pillow. Again, she thought about the look Omar had given her just before they parted. It irked her all the more to know that they had been talking about something serious, and then he had given her the bedroom eye. As though all she was good for was something sexual.

Of course, Gabrielle was jumping to conclusions. He hadn’t said anything inappropriate. Well, except for that one sexist comment. He certainly hadn’t crossed the line with her. But...

It was that spark she had felt. Amidst their arguing, she had felt a pull of attraction. Which made her wonder if she were losing her mind.

She looked at the pillow beside her. The empty pillow. The pillow where her ex-fiancé used to sleep.

Until he had cheated on her.

Maybe that was what was bothering her about the encounter with Omar. Besides the disturbing fact that he let the perp get away, maybe she had seen in him the very qualities she used to see in Tobias.

Yes... That was it. She had sensed in him the same kind of philandering ways she had sensed in Tobias. That’s why she had gotten angry with him.

Tobias Winthrop. What a joke. He’d had such a sophisticated name, and he’d had the pedigree to go along with it. Firstborn child of a wealthy businessman. Tobias began working at his father’s company even while in college. From that point, he was groomed to become the CEO of Winthrop Publishing. He had talked about how wonderful their future would be, how they could be a power couple in Ocean City. How they could sail the seas on a private yacht and take private planes to exotic destinations.

He had swept Gabrielle off her feet. But all the money in the world couldn’t buy happiness. She had learned that the hard way when Tobias had cheated on her with her own cousin.

Gabrielle rolled over in her bed and tightly shut her eyes. Why was she thinking about Tobias and his betrayal?

She knew why. It was her brain’s way of reminding her that men like Tobias—and Omar—were dangerous to her heart. She had felt a spark of attraction for Omar. And now, her brain was screaming at her with all kinds of signals. Trying to remind her that even being attracted to someone like Omar could lead to heartbreak.

“Good grief,” she said to herself. “Why are you even getting yourself worked up over this?”

It wasn’t as if she was going to see Omar again.

Chapter 3

The next day, Gabrielle felt exhausted at work. She hadn’t had nearly enough sleep. But in her line of work, napping on the job was impossible. She’d had people to call and interview before appearances on the various shows that Cable Four produced. And she’d had to film her own show, Your Hour, and be upbeat while she was on air.

So she had done what she’d had to do. This had been a three-espresso day.

She didn’t particularly like the strong drink. In fact, she consumed it more as if it were medicine. A liquid shot of adrenaline. It gave her an extra jolt when she was beginning to get fatigued. It allowed her to get through her day.

And when she was finished and finally leaving the studio, she wanted nothing more than to head home and get in her bed. But she couldn’t. Not yet. She needed to visit her parents. Ever since her father’s heart attack, she stopped by often to see how he was doing and to help cheer her mother up.

Gabrielle rounded the studio building to the parking lot...then stopped up dead in her tracks. Was that Omar?

It took only a second for her to realize that it was. And the nerve of him. He was leaning his butt against her Mercedes!

She hustled forward. As she did, he stood tall. He was six foot one at least. And now, in the daylight, without his firefighting gear, she could take a better look at him.

He had a medium brown complexion. He had a round face, which was both sexy and boyish at the same time. He was clean-shaven, and had closely cropped hair. And his body...his biceps were exposed beneath his shirt, and she could see the defined muscles, even though he wasn’t flexing.

He was one seriously sexy man.

As Gabrielle got closer to him, she saw that he had a gold stud in his left earlobe. Figures, she thought. Was that on page one of the player’s handbook?

“Gabby,” Omar said, and gestured to her personalized license plate. “Figured this had to be yours.”

Would it be completely rude to simply get into her car and drive away? Why Omar was even here, Gabrielle had no clue.

She pressed her electronic key to unlock her doors. “What are you going to do?” Omar asked. “Take off without talking to me?”

“How can I help you?”

“So formal.”

Gabrielle crossed her arms over her chest. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to talk to you about last night.”

“I thought we discussed everything we needed to,” Gabrielle said.

“I’m not sure why we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,” Omar began. “But there’s a negative energy between us. I’d like to resolve that.” He extended his hand to her, and offered her a charming smile. “Omar Ewing. Lieutenant at Fire Station Two. Pleased to meet you.”

Gabrielle shook his hand. “Gabrielle Leonard.”

“I realize you were upset because I judged you wrongly,” Omar said. “And for that, I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” She started toward her driver’s side door.

“Whoa, wait a second.” When Gabrielle turned to look over her shoulder at Omar, he said, “That’s it? You’re taking off?”

“I... I have an appointment.” Not that it couldn’t wait. But being near Omar caused her heart to beat quickly, and she was feeling suddenly flustered.

“All right. I’ll be quick. You said you got a look at the guy you think is the arsonist. So I’m thinking it would be a good idea for the two of us to meet so that we can discuss whatever else it is that you’ve learned. Perhaps combined with what the arson investigators know, we might be able to finally take this guy down.”

“All right,” Gabrielle said slowly. “I’ll give you my card. You can call my assistant tomorrow. Make an appointment.”

Omar chuckled softly. “Call your assistant? I was thinking more like we could go to dinner.”

Now Gabrielle was the one to laugh. Finally, she understood. “So you’re here to ask me on a date?”

“A working date, if you will.”

Predictable... He wanted another notch on his bedpost, and he had set his eyes on her.

“You can pick the place,” Omar said. “We could do this tomorrow, if you want.”

“Mr. Ewing. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

He made a face. “Excuse me?”

“I know what you really want.”

Omar folded his arms over his brawny chest, and his biceps grew exponentially. He looked at her through narrowed eyes. “Really? What do I want?”

“Dinner?” Gabrielle scowled. “Does that work with all the women you hit on?”

His eyes widened. “You think I’m hitting on you?”

The way he said the words caused her jaw to stiffen a little. Though the reason was beyond her. She shouldn’t be offended if he wasn’t actually hitting on her. Because she didn’t want him to hit on her.

And yet there was this itty-bitty feeling in the pit of her stomach that felt like rejection.

Or maybe it was just humiliation. Was she jumping to conclusions where Omar was concerned? Just like he had with her last night?

“If you really want to discuss the case, we can do it at my office.”

“But dinner would be so much nicer.”

Gabrielle knew his game. And just seeing him here had her unsettled. Her heart was still beating fast, and she had this odd sensation coursing through her body.

She didn’t like it.

All she knew was that if she never saw Omar again, that would be the best thing for her.

“If I recall, you mentioned something yesterday about how I should go to the police with whatever I knew,” she said. “I think that makes the most sense.”

“Or, you and I could discuss what you think you know, then I can advise you on whether or not we should go to the police with it. I am a firefighter. I’m not some schmuck off the street.”

No, he certainly wasn’t. He was six foot one or so of hot black man. And that was the exact problem with him. Gabrielle could totally see herself losing focus around him. Because for the first time since Tobias had left her, she was feeling a stirring in her gut.

And that was the last thing she wanted. Especially with a man like Omar Ewing.

“I didn’t say you were a schmuck.”

“Sorry,” Omar said, offering her a smile. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”

“I really do have to get going.” Gabrielle was hoping that she could slip away before he realized that she hadn’t actually agreed to a date with him.

“You know what I really don’t understand,” Omar began. “Why you were at the scene of the fire hoping to nab the arsonist without any help from anyone at your cable station. The more I thought about it, it made more sense for you to go to the scene with someone who had a camera. You might have been able to get the suspected arsonist on film without him knowing.”

“When I heard about the fire, it was late,” Gabrielle explained. “Far too late to wake up any of our cameramen. So I just went to the scene of the fire on my own.”

“What about someone else? A friend or boyfriend or husband who could have been there with you.” He paused. “Didn’t it occur to you that trying to go after the arsonist on your own could be dangerous?”

She almost laughed. He had thrown in boyfriend or husband, hoping to have her reveal her marital status. He thought he was smooth.

“Gabrielle?” Omar prompted when she didn’t speak.

“I...” Gabrielle began, but her voice trailed off. How could she answer that? She hadn’t even discussed her plans with anyone from the network. She hadn’t been at the fire scene in any official capacity. “I... It was just something I was compelled to do,” she finally answered. She certainly wasn’t going to get into the real reason. He didn’t need to know about her parents’ restaurant.

Omar nodded. “In the future, I think you should leave the detective work to the professionals. You could get yourself hurt doing what you did.”

“I assure you, I’ll be fine.” She paused. And when she met his gaze, she had to look away. He had this way of looking at her, as though he were seeing deep into her soul.

“Mr. Ewing—”

“Omar.”

“Omar,” she said. “I do have to get going.”

“You didn’t answer me about dinner,” he said.

She opened her car door. She got the sense that if she didn’t get behind the wheel, he would keep talking to her. “One minute you thought I was the arsonist. Now you’re asking me out on a date?”

“I wasn’t asking you on a date,” Omar said. “But, hey. We can always kill two birds with one stone,” he added, smiling with humor.

He was unbelievable. Gabrielle knew his type. Men who thought that because they were sexy, they could have any woman they wanted. Add to that the fact that many women lost their heads over men in uniform, and she could only imagine that his ego was even more inflated.

“If you’re really serious about discussing the arsonist,” she began as she got into the car, “call my assistant.”

She heard his soft chuckle. “Wow, you’re tough. I can see why you were out on the street going after the arsonist.”

“Good day, Mr. Ewing.”

As she closed her car door, she heard him say, “Omar. Call me Omar.”

She backed her car out of her parking space, and started to drive away. Just when she was about to turn onto the main street, she looked in the rearview mirror.

She saw Omar standing there, his arms on his hips and looking like a GQ model, watching her drive away.

She quickly turned right and slipped into traffic.

* * *

What the heck had just happened? Was it possible that Omar was losing his touch?

As he watched Gabrielle’s Mercedes turn onto the street, he couldn’t have been more surprised. He had gone to see Gabrielle to apologize, and to make amends. And she had reacted as if...

Well, she had reacted as if he had the plague.

He’d been nice, respectful. And she had treated him with disdain that he couldn’t comprehend. Was there something written on his forehead that said he was a jerk?

Despite her reaction to him, there was still something about her. Something about her that got his blood pumping.

It was proving to be a challenge even to get a moment of her time.

But Omar was nothing if not up for a challenge.

Chapter 4

Gabrielle drove as if the devil were chasing behind her. Why on earth had Omar Ewing come to see her?

Her stomach was tight. Her heart was pounding. And it was aggravating.

Good Lord, Omar was sexy. While looking at him, a part of her came alive. She didn’t understand this intense and idiotic attraction to a man like him.

“Forget him,” she told herself.

She turned up the music as she continued driving to her parents’ place. They still lived in the childhood home she had grown up in. It was a house overlooking the water, close to the beach. Her parents—Joe and Gina Leonard—had both worked two jobs when she’d been young, building the American dream for their children. Her mother used to work in a daycare during the day, while her father did construction. At night and on weekends, they cleaned office buildings. Their hard work had paid off.

Gabrielle had been ten when her parents had bought the house that ultimately became their home. It had been small, a split-level ranch house, with a huge backyard. The plan had always been to renovate the house and make it their own, something her father could do well because he worked in construction. The first order of business was to expand the house into the backyard. Her father had built his wife a dream kitchen. After that, the bedrooms had gotten bigger. An additional den had been added. Her parents had been able to renovate the house exactly to their liking. Because it had needed work and a lot of TLC, they had been able to purchase a house in a prime real estate location for an incredible price. But they had turned the house into something spectacular.

Gabrielle still remembered the celebration when the house had been finished. Her parents had been so proud. She and her sister, Grace, had been elated. And finally, her parents had stopped working quite as hard, allowing them to all spend more time together as a family.

Everything her parents had done had been for Gabrielle and Grace. She knew that. Joe and Gina had come from far more humble beginnings, and wanted their own children to have more.

Her parents had successfully conquered two goals. Raising two children, and having a house you could call a home. Now they wanted to spend their later years building another dream.

Just last year, her parents had decided to finally invest in something for themselves. For years, they had dreamed of opening a restaurant. Given that they had worked so hard to build a home for their children, her mother had not been able to follow her culinary passion when she’d been younger. Finally feeling financially secure, later in life, her parents took out some of the equity they had built up in their home to invest in opening a restaurant.

Gina’s Steakhouse.

Gabrielle smiled sadly as she remembered the day the doors had opened. Her mother had beamed with such pride. Her father had insisted that the restaurant be named after his wife. After all, she had given up going to culinary school to raise a family and work to make sure food stayed on the table. Her father had wanted to make sure that her mother finally fulfilled her lifelong dream. And seeing her name on the side of a building had brought her mother incredible joy.

As Gabrielle drove, tears misted her eyes. She had been moved to tears by her mother’s emotion on the day of the grand opening. Gabrielle knew that her whole life her mother had worked extra hard to make sure that she and Grace would have everything they needed in life. Finally, she had had something for herself.

But only six months after opening, the restaurant had gone up in flames.

Torched by the arsonist.

And two weeks after that, her father had his near fatal heart attack.

Gabrielle pulled into the driveway of her parents’ home. She looked at the house where she had spent her happiest years. And wiped the tears from her eyes.

As she made her way to the door, she looked at the wood exterior that her father had repainted just last year. A mix of blues and yellows gave the house a cheery feel. How ironic that inside, so much sadness existed.

Gabrielle rang the doorbell. A minute later, it opened, and her mother smiled at her. “Hello, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Mom,” Gabrielle said. She stepped into the house and put her arms around her mother. She held her tightly, noticing that her mother seemed to shake beneath her touch.

“How’s Daddy?” Gabrielle asked.

“He’s hanging in there, but he’s the same.”

Meaning he was depressed. Gabrielle didn’t know if he was more upset about the heart attack, or the restaurant burning down.

“He’s upstairs?”

“Yes,” her mother answered.

Ever since the heart attack, they had adjusted their master bedroom so that he could be comfortable in it and not have to move around too much. Before that, he used to love to spend time in his man cave. With her and Grace gone, her father had taken over the den. He had put a huge-screen TV in there so he could watch his favorite sports up close.

But since the heart attack, he had been spending more time in bed. Part of the reason was that he had an oxygen tank he had to use for several hours, and it was set up beside the bed. Due to his heart disease, the doctors believed his body was not getting enough oxygen, so he had been prescribed oxygen therapy.

Gabrielle had made sure that her parents had a bigger TV in the bedroom. She’d also helped her mother order a bed that could be adjusted so that her father could sit upright. Gabrielle hated to see him stay in bed all day, because to her it seemed as though he was giving up.

Gabrielle wandered through the house to the back that led up to the split-level. Her parents’ bedroom was the first one on the left. Gabrielle knocked softly, then pushed the door open.

“Daddy?” she called out.

“Come in, darling.”

Gabrielle stepped into the room, saw her father sitting upright in the bed. He looked exactly the same as he had the last time she had visited. A knit bedspread was thrown across his lap. His head rested on a pillow. The oxygen tubes connected to his nose.

Gabrielle’s heart ached. Her father looked so darn frail. His face was worn, and his eyes were glum. Gabrielle hated this.

She walked over to her father and leaned down to give him a hug and a kiss. “Hey, Daddy.”

He offered her a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hi, Gabby.”

Gabrielle eased onto the bed beside her father. “How’re you feeling today?”

He made a sour face. “I hate all this crap I have to eat and drink.”

He gestured to the right, and Gabrielle looked on the table beside the bed. There was a tray with congealed oatmeal, a banana and a cup of nuts. “You’re not eating?”

“Not that stuff.” He made a face. “I made your mother get me real food.”

“And what was that?” Gabrielle asked.

“Pizza.” He smiled. “From that pizza place I like down the street.”

“Daddy,” Gabrielle said, an exasperated sigh escaping her lips. She knew exactly why her father liked that food. It was greasy and delicious—and exactly the kind of food her father had been told to stay away from. “You know you’re supposed to cut out the fatty foods.”

“He thinks vegetables and food cooked with less butter is torture.”

At the sound of her mother’s voice, Gabrielle looked over her shoulder. Her mother stepped into the room. “I’ve been trying to get him to follow the doctor’s advice, but you see him. He’s wasting away to nothing. I have to feed him.”

“I know,” Gabrielle said. Though she wished her mother wouldn’t cave to her father’s demands. Eventually, he would have to eat what was in front of him if she didn’t give him an alternative.

“I need you to get better, Daddy.”

“I want this arsonist caught,” her father said, speaking passionately. “That’s what’s going to make me better. He took away my livelihood.”

Her father made a pained expression and tried to adjust his body in the bed. Gabrielle’s mother quickly hurried to his side. “Joe, you can’t do this. You can’t get yourself worked up.”

“That man took away our livelihood! Our dream!”

Gabrielle took her father’s hand in hers. “Daddy, you’ve got to take it easy. Do you want to give yourself another heart attack?”

He frowned, and huffed. But he didn’t say a word.

Gabrielle squeezed her father’s hand. “I’m working on finding out who did this.” She looked at her mother briefly before looking at her father again. “I was close yesterday. Real close. You heard about the fire last night? Well, I was there. And I saw someone in the crowd, and—”

“You what?” her mother asked.

“I went to the scene of the fire. I wanted to look at the people, see if someone there seemed suspicious.”

“Oh, my goodness,” Gina uttered.

“I know I saw him,” Gabrielle pressed on. “It was dark, but I tried to get a few pictures. Then, when he was leaving, I tried to follow him.”

“Gabby,” her father chastised. “You can’t be doing that.”

“There were a lot of people there. I was fine.”

“I don’t want you getting yourself hurt,” her father scolded.

She thought of Omar, how he had echoed the same concern. Gabrielle offered her father a brave smile. “I won’t get hurt. I promise you.” She paused. “What matters to me is that I get this situation fixed for you.”

“You always think you can fix things, don’t you,” Joe said. “But, Gabby, you can’t. Some things you need to let the authorities handle.”

“I hate seeing you like this,” Gabrielle said to her father. “All the stress of what happened... I just want you to get better.”

“You want me to get better, get me a chocolate fudge sundae.”

“You’ve already had pizza today,” Gabrielle said. “That’s enough veering from your diet for one day.”

“Joe.” Gina shook her head with disdain. “You know you can’t have a chocolate fudge sundae.”

Joe scoffed and waved a dismissive hand. “It wasn’t my diet that did this to me. It was the stress.”

Gabrielle figured it was a bit of both. But mostly the stress. To lose your life’s work in a flash and for no good reason was exactly why she was determined to make things right for her father. She wanted to see the light in his eyes again. And in her mother’s. She couldn’t walk into this house and feel this cloud of negativity hanging over all of them for much longer.

“Gabby,” Gina began. “Can you come to the kitchen with me for a moment?”

Joe looked at Gina with suspicion. “What’s going on?”

“I just want to talk to Gabby about dinner.”

“Rib eye,” Joe said as Gabrielle and her mother began to walk out of the room. “With some mac and cheese. Or maybe fries and gravy.”

Gabrielle looked over her shoulder at her father. She shook her head. “Not tonight.”

“Then a T-bone,” Joe called as Gabrielle and her mother stepped into the hallway.

Gina turned toward her daughter. “Do you see what I have to deal with? It’s so hard. I try to make him healthy meals, and he acts like I’m trying to poison him. I made him some quinoa last night, and a beautiful garden salad. He threatened to go on a hunger strike.”

Gabrielle groaned. “He’s acting like a petulant child. Good grief, he knows you’re trying to keep him alive.”

Gina linked arms with Gabrielle and walked with her toward the staircase. “Can you go to the store and pick up some groceries for me? I hate to leave him here alone. The last time I left, I came back and found him downstairs eating ice cream from the tub.”

“What I can do is help you clear out the fridge,” Gabrielle said. Her father wasn’t an invalid. Sure, he was staying in bed a lot to rest, but he was smart enough to know that when her mother left the house, it was his opportunity to raid the fridge for the foods he really liked. “You can’t have any bad stuff in the house if you don’t want him to eat it.”

“Later, I will clean out the fridge and cupboards of all the junk,” Gina said. “In fact, I’ll do it tonight.”

Gabrielle doubted it. It was hard to see someone you loved beg for something and deny them. She was probably keeping the cookies and treats in the house, knowing that at some point she was going to have to placate her husband.

Her mother could no doubt use some help. Another person here to help alleviate the stress.

“Have you spoken to Grace?” Gabrielle asked.

“She says she can’t get away,” Gina said, answering the question Gabrielle hadn’t even asked.

Gabrielle gritted her teeth. Her mother was always ready with excuses for Grace. Grace could never get away. Not unless it was something she wanted to do.

“Is she working?” Gabrielle asked.

“Not right now.”

“So it would be perfect timing for her to come here and spend some time with you and Daddy,” Gabrielle pointed out.

“I’m sure she’s going to come here as soon as she can. She loves your father.”

This wasn’t about Grace not loving her father. This was about Grace being selfish. She’d been raised as a spoiled kid, and had always felt that the world revolved around her. Now her father had had a life-threatening heart attack and she didn’t even have the decency to come see him? What if he had a second heart attack and died?

Gabrielle prayed that didn’t happen, but there were no guarantees in life. And with her father determined to eat a diet that would kill him... You just never knew.

“It’s not like we haven’t heard from her,” Gina said. “She’s called, spoken to your father.”

“Isn’t that nice?” Gabrielle said sarcastically. “She should get on a plane and come down here. Portland isn’t on the other side of the world.”

“Don’t be so hard on your sister,” Gina said.

“You always defend her, Mom,” Gabrielle said, exasperated. “But she’s never here when we need her.”

Gabrielle refrained from pointing out that her parents had always been there when Grace needed them. Grace had had one financial disaster after another in her life, and had always called her parents when she needed help picking up the pieces. While Gabrielle had adopted her parents’ work ethic, her sister had not. Whenever she had money, she spent it carelessly. She liked to party, and even do the occasional recreational drug.

Though maybe it was more than occasional. That would certainly explain why she could never hold down a steady job.

“She got fired from her last job,” Gina said.

“So she has no money,” Gabrielle said. Of course, she added silently. Her sister could never keep a job. It wasn’t the first time she’d been fired. And it wouldn’t be the last. Grace liked to stay up late, and sleep in late. Which only proved her to be unreliable. Employers wanted to know that you would get up in the morning and go to work consistently.

But when you had Mommy and Daddy bailing you out all the time...

Gabrielle knew this wasn’t the time to get into Grace’s situation with her mother. So all Gabrielle said was, “Well, hopefully she finds another job and gets herself down here to see Dad.”

“Will you go and pick up the groceries for me?” Gina asked.

Gabrielle put an arm around her mother. “Of course.”

This was so hard on her mother, and she could see it in her eyes. If only Grace would come back home to help her parents out and ease the stress on their mother.

As Gabrielle descended the stairs with her mother, she tried to push Grace out of her mind. It hurt thinking about her sister. So many disappointments... She and her sister were not even on speaking terms anymore.

Grace had stopped talking to her because Gabrielle had refused to give her more money. The first few times Grace had called her in crisis, Gabrielle had lent her money. And when she hadn’t gotten it back, she’d been okay with it. In her heart, she wanted to believe the best about her sister. Grace’s hard-luck stories were always compelling. This or that bad thing had happened to her. Eventually, it became clear to Gabrielle that Grace had been making excuses.

She had a safety net. And it was the family.

So when Gabrielle had told her she would not give her any more money the last time she had called, Grace had been livid. She hadn’t spoken to her since. Not truly spoken to her anyway. Gabrielle had seen her at the occasional family get-together, and Grace had always been distant and cold.

“Sweetheart?”

Her mother’s voice pulled Gabrielle from her thoughts. “Yes?”

“This is a list I made. And here’s some money.” She stuffed several bills into Gabrielle’s palm.

“I don’t need the money,” Gabrielle said. “I can certainly buy my parents some groceries.”

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” Gina said and smiled.

“And I don’t know what I would do without you and Daddy,” Gabrielle said.

It was why she was determined to see the arsonist caught.

Because only then might some normality return to her family.

Chapter 5

“Thank you so much for coming in today,” Gabrielle said to her guest, as she was packing up the clothes she had displayed on Your Hour. Cindy Holjak had been the last segment for today, and she had enthusiastically shown various scarves and skirts and blouses made by women in South America. All of the profit went to the women in South America, as a way to help them better their lives. It was all about empowering women in impoverished countries.

“Thank you,” Cindy said. “Anytime I get to talk about this initiative, I’m grateful. This is really changing a lot of women’s lives.”

As Cindy continued to pack up her bags, Gabrielle retreated to the small kitchen outside the studio doors. She needed coffee.

She had stayed with her parents for a good while last night, not wanting to leave them. Her mother needed the company, she knew. Her father just wasn’t the same. He was bitter, miserable. Constantly complaining about the food he had to eat. So she knew that her mother appreciated a change of pace.

Gabrielle had gotten home late, and then had not been able to sleep well. She kept thinking about her father, and how he had changed so drastically.

And all she wanted to do was be able to help him. To turn back the clock to the time before the arsonist struck.

She couldn’t turn back the clock, but she could make a difference. She’d put a call in to Stacy Jackson from Channel 10 news earlier. Their team had been out videoing footage of the fire. Gabrielle was hoping that she could take a look at the footage, and see if the arsonist was anywhere in there. The first order of business when she got into her office was to check emails and her phone messages.

Her cup of coffee in hand, Gabrielle exited the small kitchen and made her way toward her office. She rounded the corner into the main reception area, then stopped dead in her tracks.

She blinked, trying to make sure that she wasn’t imagining things.

“He’s been waiting here for an hour,” Renée the receptionist said.

Gabrielle’s heart was pounding. Omar Ewing was there. Again.

“What—what are you doing here?”

“He said he wants to see you,” Renée went on when Omar said nothing.

He stood up and smiled. He was wearing jeans and a white dress shirt and looked especially fine.

Gabrielle started toward the door that led to the main offices. “I thought I told you to call and set up an appointment,” she said, trying to hide her irritation for Renée’s benefit. “I’m certain I didn’t tell you to just drop by.”

“I was in the neighborhood.”

Sure you were, Gabrielle thought sourly. Then she turned to Renée. “Let me know when my 2:00 appointment gets here.”

Renée said, “Your 2:00?” She looked confused. “I didn’t realize—”

Gabrielle shot her a narrowed gaze, and Renée caught on. “Oh. Of course. That’s right, I forgot all about that appointment.”

Gabrielle pushed through the door, and Omar followed her. She walked swiftly to the second door on the left, which was her office. When she stepped inside, she continued to her desk. She put her clipboard and coffee down and picked up her phone.

“What do you want, Mr. Ewing?”

“I really wish you would call me Omar.”

“Whatever. Why are you here?”

“Why are you so hostile toward me?” Omar took a step toward her, and her body tensed. His large, muscular frame filled the room. She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“I’m not being hostile.”

His eyes widened. “Could have fooled me.”

Gabrielle sighed softly. “It’s just that I have a lot to do. And you keep showing up. It’s a little annoying.”

“Ouch.”

Gabrielle closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” She needed to get ahold of herself. “I’m not trying to be rude. It’s just... I do have a lot of work to do.”

“And one of those things is finding the arsonist,” Omar stated. “Clearly, it’s something you’re passionate about. As a firefighter, I assure you that I’m passionate about that as well. So why don’t we sit down and put our collective heads together and see what we can come up with. Maybe there’s something you saw, something I saw...we both might have pieces of the puzzle that can help solve this.”

It was an entirely reasonable request, and yet Gabrielle wanted to say no. But did saying no make sense? Omar had a good point. Between what he knew, and what she thought she knew, maybe they could finally nab the arsonist.

Which was what she wanted most in the world.

She just wished she could accomplish this without spending any more time with Omar.

“What are you doing tonight?” Omar asked.

Gabrielle’s eyes bulged. Then she chuckled mirthlessly. “So you’re asking me out to dinner again?”

“I was hoping you reconsidered.”

Gabrielle picked up her coffee and took a sip. She needed this. Her temples were already throbbing, and she didn’t need the added distraction of Omar Ewing.

“So, what do you say?” Omar asked. “Dinner’s on me, of course.”

“I have a terrible headache, and a ton of work to do—”

“Which is why you could use a break,” Omar interjected. He glanced around her office. “This place is dull. Uninspiring. No wonder you have a headache. It’s no place to have a meeting.”

Good Lord, would he never give up?

“Pick the place, 6:00.”

“Is that what works for you?” Gabrielle asked. “You give orders, and women just have to obey?”

He took another step toward her, and her heart began to race. “Consider it the doctor’s orders,” he said. “Because you look like you could use a prescription for fun.”

“Fun! I thought you said this is about work.”

“See—look how you reacted when I said the word fun. It’s as though it’s foreign to you. Yes, this is about work. But it’s also about perhaps, enjoying each other’s company...”

Gabrielle frowned. The problem was, she got the feeling that if she didn’t say yes, Omar wouldn’t go away. He was like a dog with a bone, unable to give up.

“Fine,” she said.

His eyes lit up, and something about that made her stomach tickle. The idea that he wanted to go out with her appealed to the part of her that irrationally found him attractive.

“6:00?”

“6:00 is fine,” Gabrielle said. “And you want me to choose the restaurant? Okay. There is a place on Elm Street. Italian.”

“Or what about that soul food place? It’s also on Elm. The play good music.”

Gabrielle was about to point out that he had suggested she choose the place, but she didn’t bother. “If that’s what you want—”

“No, you’re right,” Omar said. “The Italian place will be quieter, more intimate.”

Her eyes widened at the word intimate. “Do I have to reiterate that this is not a date?”

“It’s a working date. And a place that’s quieter is a better spot to talk. Especially given what we will be talking about.”

“Oh. Of course.”

The office phone rang, and Gabrielle could see that it was from Renée’s extension. She picked up. “Gabrielle Leonard.”

“It’s 1:55,” Renée said. “There’s no one here. What do you want me to do?”

“Okay so he’s been delayed by ten minutes? That’s fine. There are some things I need to do before he gets here anyway,” Gabrielle said into the phone, making her story up as she went along. “Thank you, Renée.”

“Your appointment is delayed?” Omar asked.

“Yes, but I still have a ton of things to do before he gets here. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“You’re not going to stand me up tonight, are you?” Omar asked.

It was tempting. Very much so. But Gabrielle knew that if she stood him up, he would just come back another day.

“No. 6:00. I’ll meet you there.”

* * *

Omar was smiling from ear to ear as he left the Cable Four studio building. Finally, Gabrielle was going to go on a date with him.

Well, not a date... Not according to her. But according to him, it was. She might be giving him the cold shoulder, but the heat between them was undeniable. In a setting where she could be relaxed, have a glass of wine, he was certain that her icy facade would melt.

Omar’s charm had never failed him before. He didn’t expect it to now.

As he reached his late-model BMW SUV, his cell phone rang. Omar dug it out of his pocket and saw Kelly Knight’s face was flashing on his screen.

He made a face, wondering why she was calling him. She was a police detective, and he knew she was working the case of the arsonist. But any official business she had was with arson investigators, not him.

“Hello?” Omar said into the telephone.

“Hey, sexy.”

“What’s up?” Omar asked, keeping his tone businesslike.

About a year ago, he and Kelly had been involved. Their liaison had been brief and casual. Afterward, there had been no hurt feelings, and they’d remained casual friends. He and Kelly spoke only rarely these days, when work required it. Except for the occasional text, which was usually some sort of joke she was passing along.

“I was just wondering what you were doing later,” Kelly said.

“Meeting a friend for dinner,” Omar replied.

“Oh.” Kelly sounded disappointed.

Omar’s brow furrowed. She hadn’t called him to get together in... Well, in a year.

“Why? Something up?”

“I was just hoping that you had some time. Maybe we could do something.”

Where was this coming from? “Sorry. I don’t.”

“All right. I was feeling a little...frisky.” She laughed airily.

“Oh.” So that’s why she was calling.

“When you get some time, call me,” she said, her tone definitely suggestive. Then she hung up.

Omar walked the rest of the way to his car, thinking that if this had been any other time, he would have definitely taken Kelly up on her offer. Especially given that it had been a few months since he had been intimate with a woman. A dry spell for him—at least that’s what the guys at the station would say. But lately, he had tired of meaningless relationships. Scratching an itch wasn’t as fun anymore when he barely had two words to say to the woman in the morning.

Maybe that meant he was getting old. Maybe that meant he was getting lame.

Or maybe, it had just been that he had grown uninspired.

Until now.

No, he would not be calling Kelly at any point to take her up on her offer. The only woman he was interested in getting to know right now was the beautiful Gabrielle Leonard.

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