They hadn’t even made it out of bed before she’d called it a mistake, reminding him that it was ethically questionable at best for her to sleep with an instructor. Though he’d agreed with her in theory, he hadn’t wanted to let her go. He’d never met such a fascinating mix of characteristics in a woman—tough, no-nonsense one minute, then giving him glimpses of finishing-school manners the next. A soft, musical voice and innocent blue eyes that didn’t flinch at the sometimes raw language and tasteless jokes that were part of the firefighter culture.
She’d tried to resist him. She’d turned him down when he’d asked her out, claiming she was uncomfortable. She’d also mentioned that she’d had a recent breakup and wasn’t ready to start seeing anyone else.
But then she’d shown up at his loft. Twice more. Each time, she’d chastised herself afterward, saying it was wrong for her to use him. She’d said she didn’t know what had gotten into her, that she didn’t normally behave so erratically.
After that last time, he knew she wouldn’t be back and he had let her go—but only temporarily. If it was a bad breakup that plagued her, perhaps time would cure the problem. And so he’d left her alone, but he’d kept tabs on her. Eric Campeon, her captain, was a friend of his.
He’d always intended to follow up with Priscilla once she’d settled into life as a firefighter and had more time to recover from whatever jerk she’d previously been hooked up with. When he saw something he wanted, he went after it. He’d let his ex-wife, Libby, get away far too easily. Maybe they hadn’t been right for each other in the long run, but he would never know—because he’d given up without a fight. Once he’d realized she didn’t want to start a family, he’d been so stunned he’d just let her walk out.
He’d learned a lot in the ten years since then. The man he’d become never gave up without a fight. He had a reputation for pursuing every avenue when it came to catching an arsonist and he intended to be every bit as determined in his personal life.
Maybe Priscilla wasn’t right for him, either. But he wouldn’t know unless he spent more time with her. He wanted to know what was behind that tough-girl exterior.
He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had made him feel the way Priscilla Garner did.
He forced his mind back to the investigation at hand. “You were the first to arrive at the fire?” Roark asked.
“Otis and I were.”
“See anything unusual? Smell anything?”
“I’m not good at smells and I had my SCBA on. But the fire did seem unusually intense and hot.”
“Not surprising, since the shed was full of lawn equipment and maintenance stuff. Gasoline, paint, turpentine. We’re damn lucky the whole place didn’t explode.”
“The building was fully involved by the time we got to it. Probably whatever was going to explode had already done so. There were a lot of bystanders, but most of them had gone by the time you arrived.”
“Any kids? Gang colors?”
Priscilla paused, searching her memory. “Two Hispanic boys, maybe fifteen or sixteen. Probably should have been in school. One was wearing green and black—that’s Dawg colors, right?”
“You got it.”
She described them in detail, down to the fact one of them had a chipped tooth, the other a broken shoelace. “They seemed real curious.”
“Could you recognize them?”
“I think so.”
“Good. I might show you some mug shots.” He already had an idea who those characters might have been. He’d talked to them before about some Dumpster fires, but he hadn’t been able to prove anything. Maybe they’d escalated to sheds.
“So did I do something wrong?” he asked suddenly.
Priscilla straightened to look at him, and for the first time he sensed true regret from her. “No, you did nothing wrong. I was the one misbehaving.” She smiled sadly.
“So why is it you run from me like I have typhoid?”
She returned to her task, meticulously labeling one of the evidence bags. “I told you before—I’d just come out of a relationship.”
Okay, now he was getting somewhere. “So I was your rebound lover.”
“Yes. And that really wasn’t fair. You seemed like you wanted something more than a playmate, and I wasn’t ready for anything like that.”
“But that was months ago. Surely you’ve recovered from whatever your previous scumbag boyfriend did.”
That got another smile out of her, not quite as sad this time. “What about that rag? Should I collect that?”
“Yes, and you’re changing the subject.”
“I just don’t want a boyfriend,” she blurted out, sounding a little desperate.
“I don’t buy that. Nobody wants to spend all their nights alone.”
She sighed and looked anywhere but at him. “It’s complicated.”
“I’ve got time.”
“I don’t understand it myself, so how could I explain it to you? But, trust me, you really wouldn’t want me for a girlfriend. I have issues.”
“Everyone has issues. You deal with them or you live with them, but you don’t just stop living.”
She straightened up and turned to face him, her gaze direct and unwavering. “The fact is, Roark, I like you too much. I was so anxious about the whole thing I just…needed to get away from it. I’m one of those people who can’t stand uncertainty. I like to be in control. Around you, I had no control, and I really couldn’t tolerate it.”
Roark knew female logic was different than male logic, but this blew him away. “Let me get this straight—you liked me too much so you broke things off.”
“I know that sounds crazy.”
To put it mildly. “So you don’t even want to try?”
“Even if I wanted to, I don’t have time. Between work and paramedic training, I’m overscheduled as it is.”
“And yet you still have time to go on these dates your mother sets up.”
“Only once in a blue moon. Don’t try to defeat this with logic, Roark. I’m surprised and flattered you would want anything to do with me after the way I behaved during training. But I’m not ready to date anyone except on the most casual basis. And you and I couldn’t do it casual.”
She was right about that. With Priscilla, he would not be content with seeing her once or twice a month.
He took the samples she’d collected. “McCrae is looking a little impatient with us. Guess I better let you go.”
“Yeah. Thanks for letting me help with the evidence.”
“You’re a quick learner.”
She turned to leave, but he couldn’t resist a parting shot. “I could still be your fictional boyfriend.” Not that the role would be a big stretch.
“Thanks, but no. I just need to be more firm with my mother.”
Roark had done all he could do. He gave Priscilla one last long, steamy look, reminding her of what she was giving up. Then he walked away from her. Damn, it was hard knowing he’d never hear from her again.
Chapter Two
Twenty-four hours later, Priscilla wanted to eat her words. She was helping her mother fix Sunday dinner and she needed a boyfriend in the