Burning Love

by Debra Cowan

  "Yes." His voice slid over her, trailing a luscious bite of sharp pleasure down her spine. "I see her."

  She couldn't help herself. Her gaze shifted, locked with his. He wasn't looking at the television screen. He was looking at her.

  Chapter 5

  Dammit, why couldn't he focus? It was just her hand. On his thigh. Big deal. And it wasn't even there anymore.

  Jack's skin burned like she'd stroked her fingers up the inside of his bare leg. He clenched his fist in an effort to keep from reaching for her, running his hand up her leg, kissing that luscious mouth until they both turned inside out. He wanted to touch, to taste. To take.

  Her eyes darkened to the color of wet moss; the pulse jumped in her throat. Just looking at her made his skin pull taut. Hell, he liked her hand on him, wanted more. A lot more. Which was not going to happen.

  He didn't make any sudden moves, which he considered damn amazing. Torn between bolting off the couch and jumping her bones, he managed to drag his gaze back to the screen, though for a few seconds the picture was only a blur.

  He had to stop thinking like this.

  After a long moment, he said in a rusty voice, "Yes, I think it's a woman, but the picture is too dark and grainy for me to really tell."

  "I know. Now I'm not sure if it's a man or a woman, but it's someone who doesn't want to be seen."

  "I agree." He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to clear the fog from his mind. His blood still pounded hard through his veins. He needed to get out of here. Now. "I can take the video to the police lab for enhancement. Unless you have someone who can do it?"

  "That's where I'd take it, too." With the remote, she rewound the tape to the desired spot and ejected it from the VCR. She got up to retrieve the cassette. "How long do you think that will take?"

  "It depends on how much the lab techs have going on. I'll tell them it's priority. We'll probably know something by noon tomorrow. I'll let you know once I have an idea."

  "Okay." She remained standing over by the television, keeping plenty of distance between them.

  She had to feel it as much as he did. The look he'd seen in her eyes, surprise mixed with desire, still twisted his gut. "I'll talk to you tomorrow then. Let me know if you hear from the M.E."

  "Will you take the tape to the lab in the morning?"

  "Yes." He stood, moving toward the door. "On my way to the mayor's office."

  "Sounds good. Do you want to update him about the tape or do you want me to?"

  He shrugged. "I'll do it since I'll be there."

  "Okay." Terra handed him the tape cassette marked with the date and name of the Vaughn fire. Careful to keep distance between them, she walked him to the door.

  "I'll talk to you tomorrow then."

  She nodded, looking as dazed as he felt.

  He got into his truck, his whole body tight and vibrating. Just because he was attracted to her didn't mean his brains had fallen out. He'd enjoy having sex with her, no doubt about that, but he wasn't interested in anything else. Wouldn't be interested in anything more with a woman in such a dangerous job. And he just wasn't cut out for mindless, meaningless sex, though he'd tried it a couple of times since Lori had died.

  As much as he was tempted, he wasn't getting involved with a woman whose job was a tightwire between danger and more danger. Jack drove out of Terra's subdivision, past the newer, small homes then found himself heading east toward the police station.

  He'd gotten more than distracted in there. He'd gotten personal. Too personal. She'd touched him out of excitement at finding someone hiding at the fire scene. Jack had just gotten excited, period. And he was still buzzed. He had to dial it back. Steer clear of any lustful thoughts about Presley's female fire investigator, regardless of her torturously long legs and you-want-to lips.

  It helped that he didn't have to see her again until the tape was ready for viewing or another lead surfaced. Still, he wouldn't get any sleep tonight unless he sweated out the soft, teasing scent of her, the want. He headed for the police gym and the punching bag.

  * * *

  Last night, Jack Spencer had thought about kissing her. Terra had wanted him to, wanted to know what it would be like. Her response had been pure instinct—fast and hard and certain. Late the next evening, a thrill shot through her as she recalled the way his eyes had darkened with a fierceness that spiked her pulse.

  Thoughts of the frank, male interest in Spencer's face, the imprint of rock-hard thigh still warming her palm had hovered all day, during her building inspections up until several minutes ago while wrangling over code enforcement with a difficult building owner. The sun had long set. A crisp velvety night settled around her as she walked to her truck.

  The smoldering desire in Jack's eyes had touched—and shattered—a hard place inside her. A place she hadn't had until her divorce. For that instant, looking into the heat of Jack's gaze, she'd melted. Ached. The reaction had thrown her. She hadn't responded to a man like that since Keith, and hadn't expected to. That's all it was. She'd touched Jack strictly out of reflex, but after that she'd barely been able to concentrate on the video from Harris's house. She'd felt numb one minute, charged the next. Despite the regret needling her about that almost-kiss, it was good Detective Yummy had left when he had.

  She couldn't allow the lines to blur between her job and her personal life, especially not on this investigation. Her friendship with Harris should be her only personal interest in this case, not the detective who acted as gun-shy as she was.

  On her own today, both she and Jack were dealing with job details that couldn't be ignored, and Terra was glad for the space. Her emotions skipped between relief at not seeing the steely-eyed cop to disappointment. She had to get back on track, streamline her thoughts to include only those about the arsons.

  Darla would be long gone from the office by now. While letting her truck warm up, Terra called in to check her voice mail. She had four messages, two from Jack. The first time he called to give her his cell phone number and ask her to call him; the second time, to tell her he would be at the police gym until eight-thirty that evening. She glanced at the digital clock on her dash. Seven-thirty. He had news; so did she. She'd catch him at the gym.

  Maybe his news concerned the videotape. This morning, he'd phoned to let her know that the equipment in the police lab was being serviced and he'd been told not to expect to hear anything from the techs until at least tomorrow. But maybe they'd been able to get things working quicker than they'd thought. Hopefully, the lab boys had been able to clear up the picture on the tape enough to show some usable detail about the person hiding in the shadows of Harris's house.

  Terra leaned against the headrest for a moment. She welcomed a break from the long day of safety inspections she'd performed. She'd gone round and round with a building owner whom she'd finally hit with a fine for not bringing up to code everything she'd listed. She'd previously given him three months longer than she normally would've because he'd told her he was having problems with financing, but today she realized he wasn't going to comply with Presley's fire codes. Pulling away from the building on the outer western edge of town, one of the faster growing areas in town, she headed east toward downtown and the police gym.

  She was tired and on the edge of cranky. A root beer float sounded great after her tough day. Terra loved ice cream year-round. Granddad had always pulled out the treat after a bad day or for a special occasion.

  Thinking about Granddad made her think about Harris, which put a darker cloud on her less-than-sunny mood. The sooner she got that ice cream, the better she'd feel.

  It took her only about ten minutes to reach the gym, located across the street from the police department in downtown Presley. She hoped Spencer had encouraging news about that videotape. Her news from the M.E., combined with the day she'd had, wasn't encouraging in the least.

  Finding a place close to the door, she parked and headed inside the football-field-size metal building. Earlier temperat
ures had been pleasant, but now a sharp wind bit at her and she huddled into her fleece-lined department jacket. Since she could wear socks rather than hose with her uniform boots, at least her feet were warm. The gym provided a welcome respite from the chill. Terra paused in the doorway, her gaze scanning the large, high-ceilinged room.

  Only a few people populated the workout area, which was divided into sections with machines, treadmills and bikes, free weights and punching bags.

  Music from Eric Clapton played through speakers set high overhead. Weights clanged as three people worked on machines and in the free weight area. The smells of sweat, cologne and perfume mingled. Terra became aware of a wiry, muscled man watching her from a weight machine to her right.

  Shaken out of her thoughts, she moved across the lightly padded floor, passing machines that worked everything from abs to calves. In the free weight area, she recognized Officer Lowe, but not the trim brunette who lifted weights with him.

  She spotted Jack in a corner across the gym, going at a punching bag with quick one-two jabs, leashed power evident in the hard lines of his body, the razor-sharp focus in his face. It was a view that had her stopping in her tracks a few feet away. A loose gray tank shirt bared bronzed biceps sheened with sweat. Black shorts hit him a couple of inches above the knees and for a moment, Terra simply stared. With each blow to the bag, muscle flowed into muscle, a ripple of rock-hard sinew and flesh.

  She'd never panted over a man in her life, but she came close. Jack Spencer was one gorgeous package. Her gaze traveled over him again, noting the dark hair on a chest broad enough to stop a truck. Muscular, hair-dusted legs were well sculpted. Good grief, the P.D. should start putting out a calendar. Spencer alone could sell thousands.

  Her gaze backtracked, pausing on the strong calves, then the two inches of rigid abdomen he exposed when he lifted up his shirt to wipe his face. A breath finally eased out of her. Her gaze met his and—uh-oh.

  He stared right at her, one dark eyebrow arched questioningly. Shoot. He steadied the punching bag then let go. Heat flushed her cheeks, but she forced a smile, as if she hadn't just been ready to gobble him up. He smelled tangy and wild and her pulse skittered.

  "You're…boxing."

  "Yeah." His dark hair was wet, spiked up in front as if he'd shoved his fingers through it. "With my nephew."

  A young boy, whom Terra judged to be ten or eleven, stepped out from behind the punching bag. "Hi."

  "Hi." Terra reached out to shake his hand. "I'm Terra."

  "Connor."

  She smiled. "Nice to meet you." He was a good-looking kid, favoring his uncle with the same blue eyes, dark hair and solid jaw. He also wore shorts and a shirt identical to his uncle, but where Jack's sneakers were white, Connor's were red.

  "My sister's boy," Jack offered. "Connor Heath."

  "Do you guys box often?" she asked the boy.

  "Twice a week. I think I can just about whip him."

  Terra laughed. "I'd like to see that."

  Jack grabbed the kid around the neck and jokingly wrestled him close. "Watch out, buddy. You might have to back up those words."

  "I'm ready, Uncle Jack. I'm ready to go into the ring."

  "Not quite." Jack squeezed the kid's shoulder. "Would you get us some water, Con? I could use some."

  "Sure." He turned to Terra. "Do you want anything?"

  Just your uncle. The thought jumped into Terra's mind. She shook her head, astounded at herself. "No, thanks. I appreciate it, though."

  "Sure. Be right back." Connor darted around her, and as she turned to watch him go, she caught him giving Jack two big thumbs-up.

  About her? Amused, she looked back at Jack, surprised to see a flush crawl up his neck.

  "Thanks for stopping by," he said gruffly. "I found out something I think you'll be real interested in."

  "Are the lab guys ahead of schedule? Were they able to enhance the video so we can see who's in the shadows?"

  "They haven't called me yet. This concerns some information I got from one of Mr. Vaughn's neighbors."

  "Oh." She frowned. "I thought you talked to all of them the night of the fire."

  "The Emersons, who live two houses down, were in Texas last weekend. I checked on them again this afternoon and they were home."

  "If they weren't here at the time of the fire, what information could they have?"

  Connor walked up just then, carefully balancing two full cups of water. "Here ya go, Uncle Jack."

  "Thanks, Con." Jack took the cup, his hand dwarfing the large foam cup. He downed its contents in three swallows.

  Terra couldn't pull her gaze from the strong column of his neck, trailing a trickle of sweat into the hollow of his throat and down the middle of his chest. The gray shirt molded to nicely defined pectorals, sleeked over the flat abs that looked hard enough to deflect steel.

  Good ever-lovin' grief. Her temperature must've gone up ten degrees since she'd first walked in here. She shifted her attention to the nephew, who was a lot less dangerous. "What else do you like besides boxing, Connor?"

  "Fishing and paintball."

  "He's good at both of them, too." Jack beamed. "He won a paintball tournament in Oklahoma City about two weeks ago."

  Their obvious affection made Terra smile. "Do you like school?"

  "It's all right." His blue eyes shone with curiosity. "My uncle said you're a fire investigator. Do you fight fires?"

  "If I need to. I also enforce safety codes and investigate fires to determine the cause." She smiled, feeling rather than seeing Jack's smile dim somewhat. "Plus some double-o-seven secret spy stuff I can't talk about."

  "Awesome." Connor's eyes shone with admiration.

  Jack handed Connor his cup, now empty. "Hey, Con, can you give me a minute alone with Investigator August? I need to talk to her about a case we're working on."

  "Sure. I'll go jump some rope."

  "Great." Jack's fond smile triggered a small pain beneath Terra's rib cage. When she'd divorced Keith, she'd lost more than a husband. She'd lost the people who'd become her second family. And the opportunity, at least in her foreseeable future, to have a family of her own.

  "You're pretty good with kids." Jack grabbed a towel from a hook on the wall behind the punching bag.

  "My ex had several nieces and nephews. I always enjoyed them."

  "Do you have any nieces or nephews of your own?"

  "No, I'm an only child."

  "Did you and your ex ever talk about having kids?" His blue gaze seemed to sear right through her.

  She hadn't come here to discuss personal issues. She stroked a nervous hand down her neck. "For a while, then he changed his mind. It was for the best."

  It really had been. She wouldn't have wanted to put a child through their divorce, but there were times when she wished for some family Keith couldn't have taken away from her. His parents hadn't blamed her for the failed marriage, but they kept their distance. Sometimes it hurt all over again.

  Pushing away the sting, Terra said, "You were telling me about Harris's neighbors, the Emersons."

  "Yeah. Let's go sit down."

  She followed him several yards toward a cushioned bench next to the wall. He glanced at the weight area where Connor jumped rope and gave his nephew a thumbs-up. The kid's smile was blinding even at this distance.

  "He's a cutie." Terra's lips curved. "How old is he?"

  "Twelve. He's got a nine-year-old brother at home, but he wanted to play Game Boy tonight instead of sweating it out at the gym."

  Jack's obvious attachment to his nephews made her wonder if he had any children, but she didn't ask. "How'd your meeting with the mayor go?"

  "Fine. He's anxious to hear what, if anything, we find on that video."

  "Take a number," she said dryly.

  "Exactly what I told him."

  Terra smiled, knowing he hadn't done any such thing.

  Jack took a seat on the bench. Uncomfortably aware of her intense interest in the way h
is shoulders flexed, Terra thought perhaps she should remain standing. She wouldn't be here all that long.

  He looked up, his eyes a vivid blue in the light. "How's it been going?"

  "I've had better days. I had to fine someone and it didn't go over well."

  "Sometimes people don't understand you're just doing your job, enforcing laws already in place for their own safety."

  Of course, Jack would understand. His job involved the same thing, didn't it? "Making people toe the line is why we're called the 'black sheep' of the fire department."

  He nodded, scrubbing at his face with the towel.

  She tore her gaze from the ripple of steel bicep. "So, how about your news?"

  He glanced at the space where she would've sat beside him. "The Emersons told me that late one night about three weeks ago, they heard screaming and went outside to find a woman on Harris's porch. This happened four nights in a row. The husband went over to check on Harris and Harris told him the woman was his ex-wife."

  "Cecily?" Terra had no trouble imagining Cecily screaming, but she did have trouble imagining Cecily embarrassing Harris like that. Besides, Harris hadn't mentioned that particular incident.

  Jack nodded. "Harris told the husband he was planning to get a V.P.O."

  "A victim's protective order? Did he get one? When?"

  "I called the court clerk and found out that Harris filed for, and was issued a V.P.O. two weeks ago. It was served within twenty-four hours."

  "For what offenses?"

  "Stalking and trespassing."

  Hurt sliced through her. "He never said anything to me."

  "I figured if he had, you would've told me." Jack ran the towel over his face again.

  "Did he use an attorney?"

  "No. You don't have to."

  Terra felt as if the room had tilted and she couldn't get her balance. "What do you think of this?"

  "Maybe the ex got really angry when she found out about the protective order."

  "Angry enough to kill him?" Some of Terra's numbness wore off.

  "People have killed for less. I think we need to look pretty hard at her."