He added more water to her glass and waited for her to take a seat. She neatened her already straight silverware beside her plate, unfolded her paper napkin and settled it on her lap just so. His mother had raised her sons to have manners, but there were manners and then there were manners.
“You’re an only child, aren’t you?”
She paused in the act of adjusting her salad bowl. “Yes, why?”
“No reason.”
Her head tilted in puzzlement. “What made you ask that?”
Flynn forked up a bite of steak, chewed and swallowed before he answered. “You’re so self-contained.”
He watched her think about that as she speared a piece of lettuce with dainty precision. “Do you consider that a bad thing?”
“Nope. I wish someone would contain my brothers at times. Meals at Mom’s house are noisy affairs. There’re four of us boys and we learned to speak up and eat fast or lose out on seconds.”
Whitney brushed hair back from her face. Flynn found himself noticing a light, womanly fragrance that wasn’t perfume and wasn’t shampoo. Whatever it was, he liked it, but he told himself to get a grip. Of course he was attracted to her. What man wouldn’t be? But this woman had some serious issues going on.
Like the fact that someone wanted her dead bad enough to burn a house to the ground around her.
“Those pictures in the other room are of your family?”
Flynn nodded at her question and cut off more steak. “Yep. Ever since Neil and his wife had their first child, I’ve been inundated with pictures of my nephew, Devin. Phyllis is convinced no child was ever that perfect. I can’t wait to see what happens when the next one is born. She’s pregnant again,” he added.
Whitney took a tentative bite of her eggs and began eating with more enthusiasm. “There was a second woman in one of the pictures.”
“Ronan’s wife, Sally. She’s interning at Community Hospital. My brother’s a pilot for Sky Air. Their schedules hardly ever mesh, but it seems to work for them.”
“No wife for you?”
Flynn grinned impishly. “I know how to run faster than my brothers.”
“Smart.”
That surprised him. “Not a fan of marriage?”
“Too restrictive. Why would anyone want to give up control to another person?”
He wondered at the shadows in her eyes. There was a story here, he was certain, but this wasn’t the time to ask. He kept things light. “I don’t think marriage is supposed to be about control, but on the other hand, I can hardly believe the perfect woman is sitting here having dinner with me.”
Her tendency to blush fascinated him. He couldn’t remember any other woman ever blushing around him.
“What do your other brothers do?” she asked quickly.
“Neil’s a lawyer and Lucan’s a cop.”
She stilled. Very carefully, she set down her fork. “I should go.”
He covered her hand with his.
“Why are you afraid of the police?”
“I’m not.” She pulled her hand free.
“Yeah, you are.” Flynn leaned back to give her space. “The minute I said my brother was a cop you turned to stone.”
“I need to—”
“Finish your meal.”
He thought she’d bolt anyhow. It was touch-and-go. After a second she picked up her fork again, but he knew it wouldn’t take much to send her running for the front door.
“Look, Whitney, you came here for answers. I wish I had some for you, but I don’t. We got a call to respond to a house fire with a victim trapped inside. When we got there I found you crumpled on an old mattress, unconscious. I barely saw you through all the smoke. The fire was spreading so fast my partner and I barely made it out. That’s the sum total of what I know about the situation.”
The fork in her hand quivered slightly as she raised her eyes to meet his.
“How did anyone know there was a victim trapped inside?”
Chapter Three
Comprehension moved across those handsome features. “Good question.”
Flynn O’Shay was exceptionally handsome with a muscular physique that came from physical work. She hadn’t anticipated this strong tug of attraction when she’d come here looking for answers.
Men were usually drawn to her looks and she wasn’t above using that when it served a purpose because most would-be suitors were quickly put off when they discovered she had a brain and knew how to say no and make it stick.
Flynn was…different. He had a quirky sense of humor that threw her off balance while his innate kindness drew her to him. Her eyes flicked over his T-shirt. No doubt women came on to him the way men did with her. She needed to stay focused. She’d come here for answers, but Flynn claimed he didn’t have any. She should leave.
“The only thing I can figure is that someone saw you carried inside the building and called in the alarm,” Flynn told her.
She tried not to shudder. “Then someone saw the person who set the fire.”
“It’s a good bet,” he agreed. “The fire marshal will be checking with dispatch to see who called the fire in.”
“What if it was from a cell phone?”
“They have technology in place that lets them know who the cell phone is registered to now. They’ll know,” he promised, “and I guarantee you they’ll be talking to that person. You’re going to need to talk with the investigator as well.”
“No.” But she knew he was right.
Flynn chewed and swallowed. He never took his gaze from her. “What are you afraid of, Whitney?”
She couldn’t meet that intense stare. Those eyes saw too much.
“You know who put you in that house, don’t you?”
“No!” If only she did.
“You must have some idea. Murder doesn’t just happen.”
Murder. She tried to wrap her mind around the concept. Someone had tried to murder her. Someone she knew.
She set down her fork carefully. All desire for food had fled.
“Who do you know that likes to set fires?”
“What?”
“I’m thinking either the fire was a copycat and someone hates you enough to murder you in cold blood or you’re a threat to the arsonist’s identity.”
Her mind tried to remember what she’d read and heard about the half-dozen arson fires that had been in the news lately. “I don’t know anyone who’d deliberately burn down a building.”
“Then who wants you dead?”
The image of her stepmother, her perfect features contorted in rage, made her close her eyes. How could she tell Flynn that the leading candidate was her evil stepmother? Talk about trite. Besides, that was mixing fairy tales. In Sleeping Beauty it had been the evil godmother, not the stepmother.
She shook her head. Exhaustion was turning her thoughts absurd. She opened her eyes to find Flynn watching her closely.
“I gather you have a candidate?”
“Of course not,” she protested instantly.