“Of course I'm worried about Joseph,” Logan agreed. “I want to get him to a doctor. I want him to move in with me so that I can keep watch over him. I want to hire a cleaning crew to wash his clothes and empty out his sink and make sure that he eats. But there's a big difference between making out with a stranger and arson.”

“Really?”

Her voice shook on the lone word as she thought back to that day in the bar, when it had seemed like her whole world was crashing down around her.

“Are you sure there is?” she found herself asking.

He moved closer. “It's all tied into your brother, isn't it? This case. Me being a firefighter. Being here in Lake Tahoe.”

She instinctively pulled her bag up over her chest as a shield. Why did he always have to go to the one place that hurt the most? “No. Tony's case is completely separate from this one. I know what I'm doing.”

At least she used to. Before everything got so damn complicated. Which was why she needed to focus on the facts at hand. And not the way her libido spiked whenever he came within five feet.

“The fact is that pyromania is a huge strike against you, Mr. Cain.”

He came closer again and she felt her throat move as she swallowed, saw his eyes catch her nervous reaction to his nearness.

“Right now there's nothing to connect me to the fire other than speculation. And we both know that speculation won't hold up in court.”

He was right. And she hated it, along with his ease around her, the fact that he wasn't taunting her in any way, wasn't even attacking her for coming after him.

“Some cases come together faster than others,” she said, feigning tranquillity she certainly didn't feel. “I'm not going to give up.”

“I know you won't, Maya,” he said in the same voice he would have used to coax a frightened kitten out of a tree. “Can't you see? We're on the same team. I want to find the arsonist. I want to make sure he pays for what he's done, for dragging my name through the mud and my men with it.”

His inescapable logic combined with the sensual force of his bright blue eyes, his white teeth against tanned skin, was enough to break her, to get to her agree to anything he desired. He'd had a lifetime to practice his charming lines on unsuspecting females who fell for the gorgeous picture he presented.

“I know Desolation Wilderness like the back of my hand. I can help you find the real arsonist.”

Goddamn it, she hated that he was making sense. Even more, she hated how tempting his offer was. The chance to be near him tugged at her insides. Even though he'd just admitted to having been a pyromaniac. She was crazy to even consider his offer.

His cell phone rang and her first thought was that she'd been saved by the bell.

“Robbie? What's happened?”

She was halfway out the door when the anguish in Logan's voice stopped her midstride. A rush of words echoed in the small room, and as his face lost all color beneath his tanned skin chills ran up her spine.

A firefighter reacted like that only when something bad had happened to one of his men. Something really, really bad. And Maya knew better than anyone just how deadly fires could be.

“An explosion? Gasoline? Are you sure? I'm heading to the hospital right now.” Logan pushed past her and out the door.

Maya's stomach twisted. A gasoline-fueled explosion didn't sound like another blowup. It sounded like arson at its worst. And based on nothing more than Logan's horrified reaction to the news, she knew he wasn't responsible.

She ran after him and reached his truck just as he was turning on the ignition. She yanked open the side door, barely jumping into the passenger seat before he slammed his foot on the gas pedal.

“What happened? Has there been another accident?”

A muscle jumped in his jaw and she knew that if she were in his shoes, she'd pull over on the shoulder of the freeway and kick him out the passenger door.

“I know you don't trust me, Logan, but I think you were right when you said the only way we can catch the arsonist is if we both know everything.”

He didn't look away from the road at her deliberate use of the word “we,” didn't outwardly react to her using his first name for the first time, but she knew he'd heard.

“I'm taking you up on your offer.”

“Don't f**k with me, Maya. Not now.”

She could understand his need to lash out at someone, anyone. He'd just found out horrible news about one of his men. She'd made it her mission to be a pain in his ass, and she was the only person within striking distance, so it was perfectly reasonable that he'd take his pain out on her. But an explosion that had hurt one of his men changed everything.

This was no longer the same case she'd opened Friday afternoon. The initial Desolation Wilderness wildfire had looked fairly cut and dry. But with the fire in her motel and this explosion, she was sure they were up against a dangerous serial arsonist. Again she wondered about the strange voice on the tip line. Had someone wanted to hurt Logan by framing him as an arsonist?

“If someone is setting off explosions to hurt your men, it could be the same person that lit my motel room on fire.”

She'd do whatever she needed to do to catch this arsonist. Even if it meant partnering with a former pyromaniac whose mere presence played havoc with her insides.

“Logan, I need your help before they hurt anyone else. I need to know what happened.”

She'd barely finished her plea when Logan slammed on the brakes at a red light. The air rushed out of her lungs as she flung toward the windshield, her seat belt locking into place just in time.

“Jesus, I shouldn't be driving this fast. Are you okay?”

“Yes. Don't worry about it. Just tell me what's happened. Please.”

“Late last night the fire shifted direction toward a second housing development.”

She could hear the pain in the raw timbre of his voice and when he didn't elaborate, she pushed him forward. “Given what I saw from the helicopter, it didn't look like the fire had touched any of the houses yet. Has that changed?”

“No. Not yet.”

She waited silently, as patiently as she could, for him to continue. She knew what it was like to need some time to process information, to try to figure everything out in your own head before you told anyone. It was precisely why she hadn't talked with anyone about Tony since his death.