On Fire. Jan Hambright
She went weak in the knees, but regained her composure.
“Doctor Savannah Dawson, I presume?” His voice was deep and smooth.
She sucked in a breath, gathered her courage and turned around. “Yes.”
Her mental picture of his face matched the physical one she found herself staring at now. Every detail was seared into her brain. His angular face, straight nose, almost black hair, cut short, and his eyes, an intense shade of hazel flecked with gold.
It was the face of the man she’d seen over and over…in her nightmare.
“Kade Decker, Montgomery’s newest arson investigator. Just in from Chicago.” He extended his right hand while he moved toward her.
In slow motion she reached out, intent on holding her ground. He may rule her nights, but this was daylight.
Their hands locked for an instant. Skin on skin.
A current of electricity shot up her arm and sizzled through her body.
Jerking free of his grip, she pinned a smile on her lips, but she knew he’d felt it to. She’d seen it in the brief widening of his eyes, a look of shock smoothed over.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Decker.”
“Call me Kade.”
“Okay.” She couldn’t do it any longer. She couldn’t stand toe-to-toe with him, not when he seemed to suck the energy out of her body, leaving her feeling like a rag doll. She sank into the chair next to the desk.
What was it about him? What connection could they possibly share?
“Detective Brandt showed you the video. Can you explain it?”
She dragged her gaze away from his face and looked at the television screen.
“It’s me. As for an explanation for how and why I’m there, I don’t have one. I don’t remember leaving the house last night, much less warming myself next to a fire without a roasting skewer and a bag of marshmallows.”
A smile tugged at his mouth, and she felt him mentally fight it. Humor as a weapon could work. Disarm? She doubted it. He was too intense, after one thing. The truth.
“Do you sleepwalk, Savannah?”
The question was silly, but the use of her name in his easy Southern drawl sent small shivers through her body. “No.”
“So how do you explain your presence at the scene? I have additional tapes with you on each and every one. Video doesn’t lie.”
He began to pace back and forth in front of the desk, each step accentuated by a slight hesitation before the next step followed. He’d been injured, somehow. She focused, picking up on a measure of the pain inside his body.
She got up from the chair, feeling less vulnerable to his power in a standing position. “If I had an explanation for being there, I’d share it with you, but I don’t.”
He pulled up short and turned on her.
She watched him clench his teeth, then relax, saw the minute beads of perspiration dotting his upper lip. A wisp of desire zinged through her, throwing her thoughts into a jumble. But were they her thoughts? Or his?
The desk offered a physical barrier between them, but she couldn’t shut out his mental chatter. She could feel his determination churning like an unrelenting sea against the rocks. Or was it desperation?
“You think I set those fires, don’t you?”
His gaze locked on to hers, warning, searching, penetrating. Her heart skipped a beat, and the air in the room thickened.
“You’re free to leave, Dr. Dawson, but there’ll be more questions, and a search warrant.”
Fear tickled along her spine. She raised her chin in defiance. “You can search until they hand out ice picks in hell. It won’t change a thing. I’m no arsonist.”
“Then you don’t have anything to worry about, do you? But if you’re lying, I won’t stop until I put you away.”
She could only stare at him from across the desk, feeling his certainty about her guilt. The sensation was crushing, powerful. Her emotions imploded.
“I’ll call my attorney.” She straightened and walked to the door with as much moxie as she could manage.
Detective Brandt showed up with a glass of water and a frown on his face.
She sidestepped him and moved into the hall, taking a couple of strides, but the men’s conversation radiated through the open doorway.
“What did you say to her, Decker?”
“Nothing really. She’s in a hurry, her ten o’clock is waiting.”
Savannah stopped short. Fear laced through her veins, but turned to curiosity. She hadn’t told him about her ten o’clock patient. Could the psychic connection she’d felt between them really work both ways?
She took off at a brisk walk, anxious to get as far away from Kade Decker as possible. As far away as physical movement would allow, but in her heart she knew she’d see him again…in her nightmare, chasing through the flames after her.
“I PRESSED HER about the fires.”
“And?”
“And, nothing.” Kade edged out into the corridor, hoping to catch another look at her. His nightie-clad fire angel was even hotter in the flesh, but she was long gone, a fact that intensified the hollow sensation in his chest.
He stepped back into the room, irritated with himself for going primal in the first place.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t cross your departmental line, but I’d bet she lawyers up.”
“Thanks. You’ve turned her into a hostile. Makes my job harder.”
“Take it easy. I like her for this, and if she’s our firebug, she’s just getting warmed up. It’s a compulsion that won’t be put out until she’s caught. Let’s get a search warrant. There’s enough probable cause, with the videos and her lack of a reasonable explanation for showing up on scene. I’d also like a copy of her juvenile file. I’ve got a hunch we’ll find something. This compulsion starts early.”
“You’re sniffing in the wrong direction. Her juvie file is clean. Checked it myself.” Nick shrugged his shoulders.
Kade studied his friend, and his hard-line attitude softened a bit. “It would be a shame to lock up a woman like that. She’s intelligent, easy on the eyes, has a sense of humor.” He paused. All attributes he admired in a woman, but a combination he’d yet to find in his thirty-four years of life.
“On that happy summation—” Nick smacked his shoulder “—I’ve gotta go. There’s a pile of reports on my desk that have to be processed, today, or the chief is going to blow a gasket. How about we get together tonight for a drink? We can ruminate over the reasons why neither one of us is holding the girl of our dreams.”
“I’d like that, but I know why I’m not holding mine.” He sobered. “Besides, I’m still helping my mom get settled in her new apartment.”
“Rain check then?”
“Yeah.” He stared after Nick and sank into the chair trying to make sense of the last half hour.
He’d felt a physical jolt when he’d touched Savannah Dawson’s hand, like making contact with a bare wire and having electricity burn through his body to the ground.
It hadn’t been an unpleasant sensation, but he wasn’t sure what it was.
And then there were her eyes—the eyes he’d somehow imagined were ice-blue were brown. The whole meeting was strange, but stranger still was the feeling of familiarity, as if he somehow knew her.
“Bunk.”