Maya stood in the doorway of Seth’s apartment. Seth had walked her to the door and unlocked it, pushing it open for her, and then gestured her inside before returning to his pickup to grab their stuff. The police hadn’t been any help, unsurprisingly. The front-desk cop, and then the detective they’d spoken to had both been sympathetic, but that was about it. They’d taken the note, promising to check it out for fingerprints, but also told her the fact she’d been carrying it around in her bag for three days had probably compromised anything beyond use. That she’d been in and out of her motel room multiple times since then didn’t help, either. Add that the note had been slid under a very publicly accessible motel-room door, and well, they had nothing. She’d been dismissed with a comment to keep her wits about her and a mention to call them sooner next time, if anything should show up again. She’d mumbled thanks and then glared daggers at the detective’s back the entire way out the precinct door.

At least she’d kept her wits about her this time. The more Maya delved into Jesse’s case, the more she was developing a strong dislike for anyone in authority. That was unfair, she supposed, but she wasn’t feeling particularly gracious lately. The firefighters were an exception. She trusted Seth unwaveringly. In fact, standing in the open door of his apartment and staring into his inner sanctum, what she could feel for him if she gave herself the chance was becoming blindingly obvious, too.

Seth’s apartment doorway opened straight into the living room. The place was on the small side, but tidy, the living room giving way to an open-plan layout. The only rooms she couldn’t see from where she stood were the bathroom and the bedroom. Maya closed her hands into fists, digging the nails into her palms before her thoughts could run away with her. She could think of about a million things she could do with Seth in the bedroom and bathroom, and after that kiss in the library that morning, she had a feeling that he’d be very, very good at all of them.

A shudder went through her and she gripped the wooden door frame. The outside of the building was off-white with a gray trim, and the insides matched. Practical blinds hung from the window. The room itself was decorated in sensible, neutral colors. The only thing that gave the apartment away as a man cave was the gigantic couch in the middle of the room. Plush and so comfortable it looked like you could sink into it and disappear, it was complete with recliners and was dwarfed only by the insanely massive flat-screen TV on the wall. A DVD player and two game consoles sat on a shelf below it, their wires dangling onto the floor. Maya grinned. She liked that. Seth might be neat, but there was still a little bit of imperfection, a little bit of realism in his home.

Crap. She was in his home. This was the place he went after every shift to kick back and unwind. Somewhere private, where he could always be himself, and he’d invited her here.

Seth’s reappearance from the car broke her train of thought. He stood behind her at the door, waving an arm forward. “After you.” Maya stepped into the room. He probably thought she was a complete idiot, still standing there on the doorstep minutes after he’d unlocked the door.

“Nice place,” she said, wincing. Surely she could come up with something better than small talk.

He smiled. “Thanks.” He moved through the room, placing her things down on one end of the giant couch. “I’ve only lived here a few months. The guys helped me moved in. That”—he pointed to the monster TV—“was their house-warming present.”

She grinned. That sounded exactly like she imagined the guys were like. She’d met some of them only briefly at Meg’s barbecue, but the good-natured ribbing and camaraderie between them was obvious. A large red artwork hanging by the kitchen partition drew her eye. It was followed by another splash of red against the oven door, a dish towel, and an also bright red kettle and toaster sat on the counter top. “And those”—he gestured toward the splashes of color—“were from Sloane, Meg, and Amy. I was told there was no way they were letting me move into an apartment that had been decorated solely by the male species.”

The look on his face was so comical that she couldn’t help but laugh. He pouted, looking fake-wounded. She laughed again. “So let me get this straight. They refused to let a bunch of firefighters decorate the apartment, but they chose bright red as your accent color?”

Seth snorted, moving into the kitchen. “That was either an inside joke between them or a dare. I haven’t figured out which yet.” He opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. “Drink? Or would you like something stronger?”

What the hell, it was late enough in the day. “Got any wine in there?”

He reached back into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of crisp Moscato, her favorite and extremely welcome at the end of the kind of day they’d had. If Seth wasn’t careful, he was going to turn into the perfect man. He bent down to a lower cupboard, giving Maya a great view of his ass, and scooped up two glasses. He poured them both and then handed one to her, clinking them together.

“To a peaceful, enjoyable evening.”

Fuck. She’d definitely drink to that. She took a sip of her wine, the crisp taste exploding in her mouth. Another sip followed that as she wandered over to the couch, its softness calling her. Maybe she was getting used to the insanity, but she didn’t feel out of herself, or even angry or stressed at the police’s apathy regarding the note. Instead, she felt almost relieved. It didn’t make sense even as she pondered it over another mouthful of wine, a larger gulp this time, but it was what it was. It was nice to know where she stood. Those who should be responsible for what happened to her brother—the FBI—had closed ranks, and she’d probably gotten a bit of a “reputation” at the police station back home after her several outbursts there in the early days after Jesse’s death. She’d known for a long time, really, that she was alone in this. In the beginning, it had felt like David against Goliath. How was she ever going to get the powers that be to even listen to her, let alone give her what she needed to prove Jesse’s innocence? But then Seth had come along, and going against the powers that be wasn’t so scary anymore.

Maya sank into the couch, allowing it to suck her in. The surface was covered in some sort of lightly brushed fabric and was so soft she’d happily stay there for the rest of the week. She took another gulp of wine, wondering what Seth would think of her camping out on his sofa for the foreseeable future. She glanced around the room. She couldn’t see anything other than a hallway leading off the side of the kitchen, but down there somewhere was a place she’d much rather be spending her nights in with Seth.

At the thought, the gulp of wine turned into a choking hazard and she leaned forward, coughing. Shit, should she take another drink to calm her throat or would that lead to her keeling over on Seth’s living room floor? She looked over at the now-half-empty glass. If she kept that up, she’d be on the floor for another reason altogether.

The man himself appeared, tapping her between the shoulder blades as she spluttered. “You okay?” he asked.

Maya swallowed, trying to get rid of the infernal itching in the back of her throat. “Dandy,” she croaked. “But I could do with a glass of water. Please?”

“On it.” Seth stood and she took advantage of the open plan layout to watch his ass again as he sauntered back into the kitchen. She sunk back into the couch. Yeah, she could take a load off here.

Seth returned with a bottle of water, a bag of potato chips, and a large package of chocolate-chip cookies. He passed her the water and then ripped open the bag of chips. “Sorry about the lack of selection. I don’t, uh, eat here much.” He passed her the bag and Maya grabbed a handful. Her nerves had settled from the freak out from the diner and the sight of the crispy fried goodness had reminded her stomach it hadn’t eaten much at all for the entire day. Seth grinned at the sound. “I have plenty of takeout menus at my fingertips, though. I’d never let you starve.” She unscrewed her bottle of water and took a sip, savoring the long, cool draught of the liquid. Seth unwrapped the cookies and then sat next to her. Maya glanced over. If she angled her thigh just so . . . 

“Are you okay with what we found out this morning?” Seth said, breaking the moment entirely. Damn him. He turned to her, the concern back in his eyes. “I’m happy to answer any questions you have.” He paused, taking a breath. “You can talk to me about anything, Maya. I hope you know that.”

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t unaffected by everything. She took another sip of the water, gazing longingly back to the half-empty wine glass. It was better to have this conversation on a clear head, definitely, but getting just drunk enough to lose the self-control that was currently stopping her from climbing the couch and ripping Seth’s clothes off would be nice too.

Silence. He waited, looking at her expectantly.

Maya took a long breath. If she was honest, the whole situation was itching at her, despite her promise to herself to ignore it. Maybe if they talked it out, she could get back to wine drinking and ass staring. Here went nothing.

She frowned, her brow furrowing. “You know what’s bugging me the most? It isn’t the fire, or even how he died or didn’t. What I want to know the most is just what the fucking hell he was doing there.” Well, shit. Her outburst had surprised even herself. Her hand gripped the water so tightly the plastic creaked and she forced herself to relax. Maya shouldn’t be surprised. She was the queen of bottling up all the shit until it exploded at apparently the most inopportune moments. Like now.

Seth leaned forward and placed his water on the table. He sat back, but his posture was tense. Maybe he was waiting for her to throw something. She resisted rolling her eyes. Why the hell couldn’t she be like normal people and break down in private instead? “Tell me something,” he said. “Do you think there’s any possibility that Jesse was there on the wrong side of the law, even by accident? Maybe he got caught up in something you don’t know about, or maybe he was working undercover and got stuck?”

Maya shook her head. “No. No way. Jesse was one of the good guys.” She smiled bitterly. “Actually, he could have been their mascot. He would never have taken another life, not unless he absolutely had to, and never one of an innocent man. Even if he was in over his head, he would have lost his own life before he did anything to the judge.”

“Okay.”

Okay? Okay! That was all he was going to say? She sat back, blinking. Maya had been all set for an argument. She knew the lines by heart by now, she’d had the discussion so many times—with law enforcement, with her parents, hell, even with herself in the mirror more times than she’d wanted to admit. Never had the other party just accepted her answer. No one had even believed her.

Believed in her.

The thought—no, the realization—hit her like a Mack truck, leaving her breathless. She took in one breath, then another, her breath hitching on a quiet sob. Oh, hell no! There was no way she was crying. Not in front of Seth, the man she realized she was falling in love with. Not in the middle of his perfectly everyday living room. Not while they were sipping wine and just talking. Not when she’d been feeling relaxed and happy for the first time in months. Seth had made her feel that more than once in the last week and damn it if she was going to screw it all up with tears again. She pushed to her feet and hurried to the kitchen, standing with her face to the wall and eying her reflection in the perfectly ridiculous red shiny kettle.

“Maya?” Seth called her name from back on the couch, his voice colored with confusion. She heard him stand and walk toward her. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” His footsteps clicked onto the tiled kitchen floor and she swiped at her cheeks in an attempt to brush away any evidence of her latest breakdown. Arms circled her waist, pulling her close, and Seth’s chin rested on her shoulder, his cheek brushing hers. “As much as I’m sure you make a regular habit of admiring other people’s kitchens”—Maya snorted, swiping at her cheeks again—“you doing okay in here? You want some time alone, or . . . ?”

Why’d he have to be so freaking perfect? If he was like any of the other men she’d dated, he would likely have barely noticed her even leave the room. Either that, or he would have asked her to fetch him another beer while she was in there. Instead, here he was, touching her, holding her, giving her what she needed. It was as if he could read her mind. Maybe he left his dirty laundry all over the bathroom floor or didn’t wash his sheets for an entire month . . . there had to be something! She shook her head at the thought, smiling, and Seth’s arms tightened further around her. “There’s my girl.”

She had to know. They’d been exchanging not-so-innocent touches and definitely flirting comments for days now, and yet neither of them had made the leap. Suddenly, standing in the kitchen, surrounded by the stupid red appliances bought by Seth’s family—because that’s what the firehouse was—just because they’d known it would make him laugh, she had to know. Was there a chance she could be a part of that family, too? A longing filled her. She had to know. Right now.

Maya turned, moving her arms to embrace Seth. Her arms curled around his waist and she tilted her head up, meeting his gaze. His eyes were full of compassion, but a little heat burned there still, giving her the courage to keep going.

“Am I, Seth? Am I your girl?”

Seth groaned, his forehead dropping forward onto hers. His hands on her hips tightened, squeezing her just enough to set everything burning. He heaved in a breath and then almost growled his next words.

“Fuck, yes.”