She set her hands on his chest, then let them glide up around his neck, bringing her body flush to his as she hugged him.
For one beat he held himself rigid, then with a low, rough breath, let his hands drop from the counter and come around her, hard.
She didn’t look into his face, knowing if she did, she’d kiss him again, and this was just a hug, comfort.
Friendship.
So she pressed her face into his throat and held on.
“Brooke,” he murmured, and the hand he had fisted in her shirt low on her back opened, pressing her even closer as he buried his face in her hair and just breathed her in. “Brooke-”
The kitchen door opened, and Eddie looked at them, brows raised. “If I cook tomorrow,” he asked, “can I have the same thank-you?”
Much later that night, back at her grandmother’s house, Brooke thought about the evening. About the hug and her reaction to it. Partially, because her body was still revved from what should have been an innocent touch, but there was more to it.
According to Sam, she could be the fast, or the hungry. But when it came to her life, she’d always been the fast, never slowing down, never relaxing, always doing, going, running. And for what? To always end up alone, wondering what she was missing? She’d come here out of duty, but she’d also wanted to find herself. Maybe… maybe she couldn’t do that at the speed of light, maybe she had to slow down. Maybe that’s what was missing.
She needed to give herself time to catch her breath, time to relax.
Needed to do that whole let-loose thing.
Moving through the kitchen with a mug of tea, she looked out the window at the dark night and thought about it, thought about Zach. As she did, a now-familiar tingle began low in her belly and spread. And suddenly, she had a feeling she knew exactly how she should be letting loose. And it included mixing business and pleasure.
A lot of mixing.
Chapter 7
Zach ran in the mornings. It woke him up, kept him in shape and gave him time to think. Typically, he thought about work or, more recently, Brooke. He really liked thinking about Brooke.
But this morning, after having a dream about the arson fire, it wasn’t Brooke on his mind, and he changed his routine, running past Hill Street. When he reached the fire site, he thought maybe he was still dreaming.
The place had been demolished, razed.
He stared at it in disbelief. On a hunch, he ran back to his house, got into his truck and drove to the site of a different fire, the one from a few months previous, a fire he’d also “cried” arson to Tommy about and had gotten his wrist slapped for.
That property was also demolished.
And the one before that? Yeah. Demolished. Standing at the edge of the third lot, where nothing remained but dirt, he pulled out his cell phone, but didn’t hit any numbers as his last meeting with the chief ran through his head. He’d been asked, and not very nicely, to do his own job and no one else’s.
Somehow he doubted stalking the fire sites would be considered doing his own job.
Shit. Tommy Ramirez had told him to be on his best behavior, but that was proving damn hard to do. Driving home, he called Aidan, but had to leave a message. While waiting for a return call, he tried to distract himself with a Lakers game but his mind kept wandering to the arson.
He couldn’t let it go. Driven to do something, Zach pulled out his laptop. He’d already typed up all his thoughts and notes on the fires. Now he needed to talk it out with someone, and oddly enough, the person that kept coming to mind wasn’t Aidan, but someone with sweet baby blues and a smile that pretty much destroyed him.
Brooke. He was driven by her, too, because, damn, she was something. She was something, and…and she wanted a relationship.
Driven as he was, he didn’t do relationships. Relationships always came to an end, and he hated endings. He didn’t need a shrink to attribute that to losing his parents so young, to growing apart from the brother he had nothing in common with except grief and, in a way, losing him, too.
No, he didn’t like endings, and therefore, avoided beginnings.
Still, Brooke drew him. She was a little buttoned-up, a little rigid, and-and hell. She had a smile that could melt him from across town, and a way of looking at him that suggested she could see right through to all his flaws, and she didn’t mind those flaws.
Jesus. He went back to his laptop, burying himself. He had property deeds, architectural plans, records of sales, and looked it all over for the hundredth time to see if there were any obvious connections.
When his doorbell rang, he figured it was Aidan. When he opened the door, it turned out to be a beautiful redhead.
Nope, not Aidan, but his neighbor Jenny with a pizza in one hand, a six-pack dangling from her other, and a fuck-me smile firmly in place.
“Hi, neighbor.” She lifted the pizza. “Interested?”
She was a high school librarian, but nothing about her was a stereotypical keeper of books. She hosted a weekly poker party, enjoyed car racing, and brewed her own beer. They were friends, and so far, just friends, but she’d made it clear that she was ready for that to change. Now here she was, flirting. Normally he’d flirt right back, but he didn’t. Stress, he decided. Stress and frustration. “I’m sorry, Jenny. It’s not a good time-”
“Don’t even try to tell me you’re not hungry. I’ll have to take your temperature.” She pushed her way in, carrying the food, swinging the beer. “Everyone has to eat.”
True. And she’d obviously decided the way to his heart was by way of his stomach, maybe with a side trip past other certain body parts. Up until a few weeks ago, he might have been happy to take that side trip, but he no longer wanted to. Not with another woman on his mind.
Jenny turned to face him, and her smile slowly faded. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m not sure.” Yes. Yes, he was. He wanted a blue-eyed, sweet, sexy EMT with a smile that slayed him.
And only her.
“Zach?” Jenny waved a hand in front of his face. “You look like you were just hit by a train.”
Uh-huh. The Brooke train. At some point, probably during the wild kiss, he’d decided no one else would do. Holy shit.
Jenny set down the food and popped the top off two of the beers, handing him one. “Here. You look like you could use this now.”
“Thanks.” He took a long pull.
“So who is she?”
“I didn’t even know there was a she until two seconds ago. How did you know?”
“It’s all over your face.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face, images of Brooke coming to him. That very first day when she’d woken him, or when she’d so fiercely approached Code Calico, and then Viagra Man…or the way she’d looked at him with her heart and soul in her eyes when she’d said she wanted a relationship.
“Damn,” Jenny said softly, still staring at him. “She’s…special, isn’t she?”
“I-yeah.” He managed to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry.”
“Not as sorry as I am.” With another sigh, she stepped toward him, and in a show of how stunned he was, managed to nudge him down to the couch with a single finger. Then she plopped next to him and clinked her bottle to his in a commiserating toast. “You’re good and screwed, you know that, right?”
He leaned back and shook his head. “You have no idea.”
