Touched By Fire. Elizabeth Sinclair
She knew that as surely as she knew her name.
“Are you sure?” Rachel said, cutting into her thoughts.
Good grief, had she said any of that out loud? “Sure about what?” With her mind centered on her troubles, Sam had lost the entire thread of her conversation with Rachel.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Rachel’s voice had grown more tense.
Relieved that she hadn’t voiced her thoughts, Sam rested her forehead in her hand. “Absolutely. I’m fine.” Period.
Silence fell between them.
“So is that the only reason you called?” Sam asked, hoping to divert the conversation.
“No, but I promised Luke I wouldn’t bring it up unless you’re sure you’re okay.”
A sigh of impatience issued from her. “I’ve been through worse and lived to tell the tale, Rachel.”
That wasn’t entirely true. There had been only two other times in her life that Sam had felt this helpless, this defeated: when she was ten years old and her father had walked out of her life, and when she was nineteen and had to stand by and watch while her drunken mother was incinerated in a motel fire. Both times, she’d wondered if she would live through it. She had, but deep down, she still bore the scars. On top of that was her sister Karen’s belief that Sam had stolen her childhood. Karen had cut off all communication with her, and she hadn’t seen or talked to her only relative in too many years.
But she didn’t want to think about any of that now. She had enough on her mind.
“Now that we’ve established that I’m not an emotional pile of mush, what was it you promised Luke you wouldn’t bring up to me?” She tried to lace her voice with humor.
Rachel hesitated for a few seconds. “Well, okay, if you’re sure. Actually, there are two things I wanted to talk to you about. The first is do you have a date for the children’s burn unit charity ball next Saturday?”
Lately, with everything that had been going on, Sam hadn’t given much thought to the ball. She wanted to go, but the only person she would want to go with was also the one person she was trying her best to avoid. Maybe she should just go alone. After all, nowadays that would hardly be looked down on. She laughed to herself. Like A.J. or Santelli would let that happen. If she wanted to go at all—and she did—then she’d find a date so she wouldn’t have to listen to them.
“No, not yet, but I’m working on it,” she finally told her friend, hoping it would put an end to the subject.
“Well, you better get a move on. It’s coming up fast.” Rachel paused. “Word is that a certain chief of detectives isn’t spoken for yet.” Before Sam could say anything, Rachel blurted, “FIST has a job. The man who owns the building that houses the Main Street bookstore that burned last week contacted me. They want us to investigate the fire for arson.”
Sam came alert. She swung her swivel chair so her back was facing the main part of the bay. Suddenly, the depression she’d been carrying around since yesterday lifted. She was going to be unchained from the duty desk, and Santelli or A.J. could do nothing to prevent it. Yes!
Ever since the fire commissioners had sanctioned the Fire Investigation Special Team as an official branch of the department and she and Rachel had set up an office to do private investigations, it had been understood that their work took precedence and relieved Sam of her duties in the firehouse. The distraction of a job for FIST was just what the doctor ordered to lift her out of the doldrums. She loved doing the investigations with Rachel and had even given thought to leaving the fire company and working full-time for FIST.
“I thought the OGPD decided it wasn’t arson.” Sam held her breath waiting for Rachel’s answer. If this was not arson, her butt would be planted in this desk chair for days to come.
“They did, but the owners think Bayside Insurance is—” Rachel’s explanation was cut off by baby Jay crying in the background. “Maggie, please give Jay his pacifier for Mommy.” The crying stopped. “Thanks, sweetie. Sorry about that, Sam. As I was saying, the owners think Bayside is trying to find a loophole to get out of paying a claim. The owner is willing to pay us to prove it’s not arson.”
An unsettling thought occurred to Sam. “Is FIST working this alone or are the police still involved?”
“We’ll be doing it alone.” A long, pregnant pause followed. “A.J. will be going with you, Sam. After what happened yesterday, it’s the only way he and Luke would agree to letting you handle it.”
Her stomach clenched. Even her best friend was supervising her life. Though she loved Rachel for it, she couldn’t help resenting one more restriction being placed on her. She sighed.
If she were totally honest with herself, it wasn’t the restrictions on her movements that bothered her. She understood the need for them and was even grateful. What set her nerves on edge was whom she’d be forced to be with. Would she ever get past this unreasonable attraction to A.J. if he popped up in her life every five minutes?
Maybe Rachel would go with her, or even Luke. Anyone but A.J. “Rach—”
The loud cry of a baby erupted once more. “Gotta run. Jay needs feeding. Just go over to the store with A.J. and nose around. I’ll get the insurance company’s report to him, and he’ll get the building owner’s permission tomorrow morning so you can get on the premises by afternoon. I’ll meet with you here at our house tomorrow night to go over what you find. Seven okay?”
“Uh, yes, I guess so. But, Rach—”
“Good. See you then.” The phone went dead.
Slowly, Sam swung her chair around and hung up the receiver. The good news was that thanks to the fire commissioners and a possible torch who had something against books, she’d be off the desk. The bad news was she’d be spending more time with the one man she didn’t seem able to get out of her life or her head.
But what about her heart?
Chapter 3
When Sam stepped from her rental car in front of the burned-out remains of the Written Word Bookstore the next afternoon, A.J. was already waiting. He’d just finished removing the wooden planks covering the doorway and was brushing off his hands. She couldn’t drag her gaze from the muscles in his upper arms, which moved against the material of his light blue dress shirt and made her yearn to feel his arms around her. Her heartbeat sped up. Sam hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until her chest began to ache.
Quickly, she sucked in air, gathered her equipment and boots from her trunk, slammed it shut and then exchanged her sneakers for the boots. After tossing her shoes into the car, she locked it and joined A.J. outside the front door of the bookstore.
During her years on the beauty pageant circuit as a child and later as a young adult, she’d met a lot of men. Never, in all that time, had she ever met one who could turn her into a big ball of sensuality as A.J. did, simply by standing there. She wasn’t able to put her finger on it, but something about him reached out and touched her emotions in places that hadn’t been touched in a very long time.
After her father had left, she’d locked up her heart to emotion. She thought she understood why he’d walked out on his family, but without knowing for sure, she couldn’t find it in her heart to forgive him. Living with Sam’s mother, who could only love Ben Franklin as he smiled back at her from a one-hundred-dollar bill, could not have been easy on her dad. Even today, every once in a while Sam would catch herself looking for his face in a crowd. Hoping he’d come back. Then she’d remember it had been eighteen years since she’d seen him. Would she recognize him after all this time? Was he even alive? Did she really care?
Only once after her father left had she allowed anyone in and that had been a huge mistake. Sloan Whitley had lied to her about having a wife and left her with nothing. But even Sloan hadn’t had the hold on her emotions that A.J. seemed to