Connor walked out of yet another ruined Monroe house—his third in just two shifts. This one hadn’t been in the middle of family suburbia, thank God. Instead, it was placed near a local business park, in an area where most of the houses were used for small business rather than residences. He swiped a hand over his face, clearing off the soot, as he walked back to the truck. He’d take any small mercy they got right now.

He looked back at the structure, small plumes of smoke rising in the occasional spot as the salvage and fire extension check did their job. The last thing any of them wanted was for the building to catch alight again after they’d left, particularly since it looked like there’d be civilians walking around this one for a while to come yet.

He stowed his tools in the engine and then turned around, one civilian immediately catching his eyes. Though if she caught him even thinking of her using that term, he’d be lucky if she ever let him talk to her again, let alone allow him a repeat of earlier that week. Scarlett Christensen was burned into every cell in his body. It didn’t matter that she’d given him the cold brush-off. He wanted more, more of whatever he could get.

He was ashamed to admit to himself that even what had happened to her husband wasn’t enough for his libido to leave her the hell alone. He’d vowed to himself that he’d be a friend if that was all she wanted, but his cock hadn’t gotten the message. Even watching her in those sturdy boots and extremely unsexy protective overalls, the sight of her picking through what was left of the building, had him half hard. He turned, shutting the storage compartment loudly enough for it to bang, and then immediately cringed. If no one had noticed the mood a certain visitor had put him in before, they sure as hell had now. Thank God turnout gear was baggy.

He watched her squat down in the middle of what used to be the porch, the roof covering long gone. She poked through the debris with what looked like the end of a ballpoint pen, before giving up a few seconds later and diving in with her hands. Connor frowned. He reached into the truck and grabbed a spare pair of gloves. They’d be comically large on her hands, but better than her getting a cut or God knows what on her bare skin. He was still convinced there had to be more going on than just simple house fires, and an unusual accelerant was top of his list. Liam and his team would be backed up catching up on the last two suspicious fires, and meanwhile, there was no way he was going to let Scarlett be exposed to something harmful at this one. Grasping the gloves in one hand, he stepped toward her and then stopped a few feet away as she suddenly stood, squinting at a piece of dirty metal she’d scooped up from the ashes. She didn’t turn toward him and so he spoke. The last thing he wanted to do was sneak up on her and scare her. His nerves were strung tight after the last several days of bullshit, and Connor didn’t imagine she’d be faring much better. At least his job there was done—the fire was out. Now Scarlett had the much more complicated job of figuring out what the hell was happening.

He knew she’d been assigned to work with them on the case after Mason’s get-together the previous night, but he hadn’t seen even a glimpse of her at the house that morning. Would she really avoid the entire station just so she didn’t have to see him? He grinned. Yep, she totally would. If there was one thing he’d learned in the last few days, it was that Scarlett Christensen was the most stubborn person he’d ever met.

He looked over at her, feeling his face echo her expression as she frowned at the piece of metal in her hands. She brought it closer to her face, peering at it, turning it around in her fingers. She still hadn’t turned around, and Connor realized he’d been standing there looking like an idiot for at least a full minute. He jerked around, but thankfully the rest of the guys on the truck seemed to be too occupied to notice him making a fool of himself, yet again. Oh, it wasn’t anything to do with Scarlett—every guy in the squad would respect the hell out of her. That didn’t stop them teasing the crap out of him at every opportunity. He was one of two single guys still left, and the others would take far too much enjoyment out of watching him stumble over his own feet because of a woman.

His scuffling must have finally made enough noise, as she turned, the frown on her face lessening for just a second when she caught sight of him. It was fleeting, before her bland professional expression was back in place, but Connor still saw it. His heart beat a little pitter-patter in his chest at the sight.

Geez, no wonder the guys were gearing up to give him hell. Memories of making love with her, or kissing her until she moaned and went soft under him were one thing, but now he was losing control over a smile? Yep, the squad would have a field day with that, and Connor realized he didn’t care. As long as they held off enough around Scarlett so not to make her uncomfortable, he’d take whatever they threw at him. A chance with her was worth it. He felt a lazy smile spread over his face. He wanted Scarlett, even if all he ever got to do was hold her close while she napped in his arms, and he didn’t care who knew about it.

“Will you stop grinning like a fool and find me something to wash this off with?” Her sharp question snapped Connor’s attention back to the present but didn’t get rid of his grin. It was freeing, in a way, to know what he wanted. Now he just had to work his ass off to get it. Another thing he’d learned the last few days was that Scarlett was going to make him work his ass off for every little morsel she deigned to throw his way. He chuckled under his breath. Bring it on.

He held the gloves out. “Brought you these.”

Scarlett nodded. “Thanks,” she said, tucking them into her pocket. “Got a flashlight, too?”

Connor jerked his head back toward the rig. “In the truck.” He leaned in to take a look at whatever it was she was holding, but Scarlett had already turned and started walking back. He quickened his step to catch up and guided her around the back of the truck, to where the equipment storage lockers were built in. He grabbed a flashlight and then reached into the truck for a bottle of water. “Here,” he said, handing Scarlett the flashlight. She flicked it on and illuminated the piece while he tipped the water over it, rubbing the soot and dust away with his gloves.

He was turning the metal over when her hand shot out, holding his in place. “There!” Her voice was hushed, despite its intensity, and for the first time, Connor noticed they were the only ones around the back of the truck. Their equipment was mostly stowed, and the others must have been still on the scene checking for any spot fires or evidence of any arson.

They were alone.

The darkening skies and smoky air took on a new quality, the usual smells and sounds of a scene falling into the background as Connor watched Scarlett. Her brow was furrowed, but her eyes sparkled, bright as she stared at the evidence still in his hands. She loved her job, that much was clear. Her hand moved and rested on his, turning the metal more toward the light. Even through his gloves, Connor swore he could feel the heat of her touch. At the same time, it sent shivers through him. He closed his eyes, remembering the heat of her when he was deep inside her body. She had been scalding, her tight pussy gripping and squeezing him until he’d come in the best orgasm of his life. Somehow, standing in a smoky field with nothing more than her hand resting on his through thick protective gear, her touch felt no less intense.

“It has a mark,” she said.

Connor’s eyes snapped open at her words. She maneuvered the piece again, pointing at a series of grooves over one face. Her fingers dipped and swirled over the marks, her bare flesh picking up more than his gloved hands had noticed. He shucked off the gloves and shoved them back into his turnout gear and then brought the metal up closer to investigate.

If he’d thought her touch through the glove had been something . . . Connor forced himself to ignore what skin-on-skin was doing to him. Even the subtle brushing of fingertips had him hardening further in his pants. How the fuck could turnout gear be tight? His jaw tightened as he resisted the urge to adjust himself to relieve any of the pressure and instead focused on Scarlett’s find. It was an odd symbol, one he’d never seen before—two inverted, interlocking triangles.

Apparently, Scarlett was as puzzled as he was. “What the hell is that?” she murmured, taking the object fully in her hands and rotating it, shining the light on every surface. The piece was likely perfectly safe. It had cooled from the fire and also been washed, but still Connor’s pulse jumped at the sight of her turning it around in her hands. They still didn’t know what had caused such a massive explosion as to practically rip the house behind them apart, or whatever the hell else their mystery assholes been cooking in there. He didn’t want to take any risks with even the least amount of residue ending up on Scarlett’s skin.

He reached up to take it, but somehow ended up wrapping his hand around hers instead. She was smaller than he was, that he’d noticed. That wasn’t hard. Excepting Charlie, most of the squad was made up of large, tall men. It was part of the job. What he hadn’t expected was for her hand to fit entirely inside his, disappearing in his grasp. Another burst of heat ran through him, and Scarlett looked up, her eyes locking on his.

What had he been worried about? Staring into the pools of brown before him, Connor couldn’t remember a damn thing except what it had felt like to touch his lips to hers, to take her in a kiss that was all-consuming, that had made the world fall away. He leaned forward, the hand that had been moving to grab the evidence instead wrapping around the small of Scarlett’s back—whether to hold her in place or pull her toward him, he didn’t care.

Scarlett didn’t seem to care, either. Her body pressed a little firmer against his, and her head tilted, showing him the creamy skin of her neck. Connor’s pulse beat double-time. Somewhere in the back of his brain, he wondered if he should move a little so she wouldn’t feel his erection, but the rest of him didn’t give a shit. His lips brushed over hers—once, twice—before her mouth opened and his tongue slipped inside. Her taste exploded on his tongue, and Connor groaned. He moved forward, his hand firming on her back, to take her completely, when something sharp pressed against his sternum. He ignored it, wrapping his other hand around the back of her head. He vaguely felt Scarlett’s hand brush against his hip, but then something dug into his abs so deeply he pulled back, jerking before he could stop himself. “Damn it!”

Scarlett looked up at him, smiling, holding up the stupid piece of metal. He’d forgotten about it entirely, until one corner of it had jabbed into him nearly hard enough to break the skin. After all his worrying about keeping Scarlett safe, it was his dumb ass that had nearly been on the line in the end.

“Looking for this?” she said. Her lips were still glistening from their kiss, her hair a little mussed from his touch, and Connor took a step forward. He’d put the damn thing in the truck, where it’d be safe, and then start again where they’d left off.

Scarlett’s gaze dropped away from his, and she took a step back. He froze, and her expression changed. One moment, she was as hot and flushed as he was, but now . . . he shook his head. He’d be damned if that was pity on her face, mixed with a little regret. He stopped where he was, turning to lean against the side of the truck, and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Just tell me why,” he gruffed out.

Scarlett still wouldn’t meet his gaze, her eyes instead roving over the scene around them. Even from this side of the truck he could hear shouts from his crew. The smoky atmosphere that had been almost romantic just moments ago was now exactly what it was: a crime scene.

God, he’d been a total idiot.

He’d told himself multiple times since their amazing time together that he had to take things slow. For all her confidence at her job, there was a skittishness from Scarlett any time he even touched her, let alone tried to bring up the possibility of more between them. That night, well, really it had been the morning after a shift, he was riding high on emotions. From how Scarlett had reacted to him, it was likely she had been, too. Connor cursed under his breath. The last thing he ever wanted to do was take advantage of her, of any woman. She’d been a willing participant that morning, but as the time from the encounter wore on, he was almost certain she regretted it. She hadn’t been ready. He’d caught her at a weak moment, and they’d both indulged to make themselves feel better. He almost snorted at the thought. At the time, the fire had gotten to him, unusually so. After two more similar calls in a matter of days, his suspicions were starting to turn to outright paranoia.

He glanced over at Scarlett. She’d placed the metal object down on the ledge at the back of truck and was fussing with her clothes, probably trying to not look like he’d just taken her against the side of the truck at a fire scene. He cursed himself again. If he had any hope of convincing her that it was worth taking a chance on what had been between them, then he needed to show her that. Most first responders he knew were tough as nails, and while Scarlett was, too, when it came to her job, she’d also showed him her softer side. The one that craved warmth and touch, that kissed him deeply and made love with abandon. He wanted that back, and so he had to stop being a total ass and let her take the lead, even if every touch of skin against skin ignited something inside him he’d never felt before. If he pushed again, he’d lose her entirely. That much he knew.

“Just tell me I haven’t turned you against me entirely.” The words surprised him, even as they left his mouth.

Scarlett stopped mid-finger-comb of her hair. Crap, he’d just put his foot in it again. Except this time, she looked up, finally meeting his gaze. Her face softened as her gaze met his and she smiled, even though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I feel like a walking cliché saying this,” she said. Scarlett dropped her hands away from her hair and leaned back against the truck, echoing his posture. “But it’s really not you. It’s me.” A breath huffed out of her so softly it was more like a sigh. She ran a hand through her hair, fingers curling around a strand at the end and playing with it, her gaze looking straight ahead. “Connor, I can’t do that again. Every partner of a cop goes through that, the worrying when they’re late home without a call, or when you know they’re executing a difficult warrant. Most people thought it should be easier for me, seeing it from the other side.” She tilted her head, looking at him briefly before turning away again. “It made everything worse. You play things down for those you care about. We all do. I knew exactly how much danger he was in every time he walked out that door.” The hand still twirling her hair tightened into a fist around the curl. “You imagine it a thousand times. What you’ll do, what it’ll feel like. I can tell you that your worst nightmares are wrong.” Her hands dropped to her side, but she continued to stare off into the distance, avoiding his gaze. “I can’t do that again. I can’t sit up worrying about whether you’re going to walk through the door the next morning or if this time it’ll be the fire chief knocking on my door.” Her hands flexed, every muscle in her body tight as her gaze turned wistful. Her voice dropped when she spoke again. “No matter how much I want to.”

She turned and walked away. Connor’s mind screamed with a thousand things to say in reply, but he couldn’t voice a single word.