When Finn got back to Rollo’s guesthouse after the work party, an email from the private investigator waited for him.

I found a news article from Rhode Island that could be a good lead. Do you have the funds for a trip to the East Coast?

Finn scanned the article, which was very brief. A family by the name of Joao had been killed in a house fire exactly twenty-five years ago. They were an immigrant family from Portugal that lived in a rundown duplex that probably had expired fire extinguishers. A three-year-old child had been rescued from the scene. The photo accompanying the article showed a crying baby wrapped in a blanket, held in the arms of a firefighter in full bunker gear.

He stared at it, examining every detail, hoping it would jog his memory. Had that blanket belonged to him? Was that the firefighter who had burst into the room in an orange halo of flames? The one who had pulled him from the toy chest and run with him toward the window? In his memories, they’d flown out the window like birds, but his grown-up mind knew there must have been a ladder.

He couldn’t be sure, but it was definitely worth a flight to Rhode Island. He emailed the go-ahead to Ericsson.

Then he went to the bathroom and popped some Tylenol for his soreness. He stared in the mirror as he swallowed it down. His scar ran from cheekbone to jaw, but it didn’t touch his eye socket. One inch higher and he could have lost his eye. Or the scar could have changed the shape of his eye.

He knew how lucky he was that it hadn’t been worse. He liked the scar on his face, as if he’d been marked by fire. The scars on his body, on the other hand…

He lifted his shirt to remind himself—or maybe to check if they had magically healed in the meantime. Nope. Still ugly as hell. Ridges of scar tissue made up a kind of topographical map of flesh. Some of the scars were angry scarlet, some were flamingo pink, others the color of mucus. The one time Annika had seen him without a shirt, she’d gagged. The doctors had suggested more plastic surgery, but he refused. He couldn’t bear another stint in the hospital. They’d never fix all the scars anyway, and he wanted to spend his savings on a detective, not more doctors.

And now Lisa was about to see the whole gruesome sight.

He left his shirt off—the sensation of cloth against the scar tissue still unnerved him. Then he sat down at his laptop and did some searching for the name Joao. It turned out to be one of the most common names in the Portuguese language.

He remembered the voice of his mother, like the low murmur of a lullaby, but he remembered it in English, not a foreign language. Or was his mind automatically translating it into the language he knew best? Wouldn’t he remember some Portuguese words if he was really Elias Joao?

He wasn’t even sure why he was pursuing this. If this news article was correct, his birth parents had died in the fire that he remembered. What was the point of tracking down the truth, battling Stu, shelling out money for an investigator?

He squinted at the caption on the photograph. “Providence firefighter Joe Pike rescues child from house fire.”

Ericsson would be pursuing this lead. He should just let the man do his job. But instead he pulled up a travel site and punched in a search for flights to Providence. Maybe that firefighter would remember a face better if it was right in front of him.

* * *

Rollo Wareham lived in a sprawling cliff-top property with a stunning view of the Pacific Ocean. Lisa had heard that he came from a wealthy banking family, even though she never would have believed it from his down-to-earth manner. When she knocked at his door, massage supplies in hand, he answered in bare feet and sweatpants.

“Sorry, Finn’s not here.” The big, bearded man scratched at the back of his neck. “He’s been gone a couple of days. Want to leave a message?”

“Yes.” You’re a jackass, that was what she wanted to say to Finn. “No. That’s okay, we must have got our signals crossed. He hired me to do some post-burn therapy with him.”

A funny expression crossed his face. “Doesn’t sound like something he’d want to miss. Lord knows he could use it. He’s been a mess since the burnover.”

“No, not that kind of therapy. I’m a certified nurse. I’ve had good success with some massage techniques…never mind.” Why was she explaining herself to him? “Just tell him I came by and maybe we’ll try again some other time.”

But probably not. The fact that she’d been looking forward to this appointment was a big huge red flag. The fact that he’d missed it—even bigger. Finn had probably gone back to Hollywood and found another actress to date.

Rollo’s kind blue eyes held hers. “I’m sure there’s an explanation. Finn’s a solid guy. Don’t write him off.”

She shrugged and turned away, back to her ancient Mercedes.

Just then, a silver SUV whipped around the curve of Rollo’s driveway and screeched to a halt next to her car. The driver’s side door flew open and Finn jumped out. With a thick growth of black stubble and bleary eyes, he looked as if he’d driven all night, or maybe just come off a bender. That was bad enough, but the fact that he still looked so good that her mouth watered—that was a problem.

“Lisa, you’re here. Sorry I’m late,” he said in a rush as he came toward her.

“It’s no problem.” She sidestepped him and heaved her bag into the backseat of her Mercedes. “Maybe another time.”

“You aren’t leaving, are you? We have an appointment.”

“Which you missed.”

“I only missed five minutes of it.” He dug out his phone and checked the time. “I took the redeye to make sure I got here on time. Then I broke every speed limit between here and the airport.”

She eyed him warily. “Why didn’t you text me?”

“Maybe because you refuse to give me your number.” He reached past her, dragged her bag out and slung it over his shoulder. “Come on, my gorgeous medical professional. I need you. A night without sleep in an airplane is definitely not what the doctor ordered.”

She felt herself soften. He was just so irresistible with that puppy-dog look in his eyes. And he was playing on her soft spot—she couldn’t turn her back on someone who needed her. “Fine. On one condition. You tell me where you went and what you were doing.”

If he was attending a red-carpet premiere with a supermodel, she wanted to know. If he was on a date with Annika, she wanted to know. Sure, it wasn’t the kind of information a medical professional would ask for. But this was Finn, and he was getting under her skin, and she had to put a stop to it.

A shadow crossed his face, but he shook it off. “All right. Your wish is my command.” He took her hand and led her toward a cozy little building with black shutters at the other end of the lawn. “But it might take a while. And I need breakfast first.”

Inside his little guesthouse, he downed a big glass of water and got some coffee going in a glass French press. The guesthouse was pure flowery Laura Ashley, as if someone’s grandmother had decorated it, which was such a contrast to Finn’s dark and masculine good looks it was almost comical. She settled into an armchair.

He handed her a mug of steaming-hot coffee, then lowered himself onto the couch, stretching out his legs with a long sigh.

She turned the mug in her hands and laughed. It showed a picture of a bare-chested fireman with the words “Let Me Heat That Up for You” printed on it.

“Cute mug.” She gazed closer at the fireman. “He even kind of looks like you.”

“He is me. One of my dad’s girlfriends made it for me. She felt bad that my dad hated my career choice so much.”

“Why did he hate it? Most people admire firefighters.”

His smile dropped. “Long story. You know, I’ve been drawn to fire as long as I can remember. My father wanted me to be an actor or a producer or a screenwriter—anything in the movies. But I wasn’t interested. I never liked Hollywood. My whole life, I wanted to be a firefighter. Fire was the most compelling thing in the world to me. And I never knew why until the burnover in Big Canyon. Something happened then. No one knows about it except Rollo. But I know I can trust you. Doctor-patient confidentiality, right?”

She stared at him in surprise. “You could trust me anyway. I’m pretty good with secrets, although I’m terrible at lies.”

He laughed and dug the heel of his hand into his forehead. She fought the urge to offer him a neck rub.

“I blacked out during that fire, when we were supposed to deploy our tents. I had a…well, I guess it was a flashback. Like a buried memory.”

He told her the whole story, from the wildfire to his flashback, to his father’s stonewalling, to his trip to Rhode Island to find a fireman from twenty-five years ago. It was like listening to the plot of a movie, except with all the real emotion Finn poured into it.

“Did you find the fireman?” she asked when he reached the end.

“I did. Joe Pike. He kind of squinted at me and said, ‘well, maybe, couldn’t say for sure.’ But when I went to the neighborhood where the house was located, an old lady walking her Pomeranian thought she recognized me. Of course, she also thought I was the prince of Spain, so that could mean anything.”

God, that grin. She wished it came with a remote control so she could turn it down. Last night, she’d lain in bed under her starry fabric sky, thinking about Finn. That killer smile. The wicked gleam that chased away the sadness in his eyes. His amazing physique. And more—his vulnerability. His determination. She liked that. A lot. It made her think he could be trusted. Finn might be funny and loose and charming, but underneath all that, she sensed a core of real strength.

She shook herself back to reality. “So you’re back to square one.”

“Yup.” He blew on his coffee to cool it. “But my investigator is on the job. I’ll get there. I’m persistent. But you probably know that about me.”

And…there came that smile again. Her pulse fluttered and jumped. For some reason, his story made him even more appealing. Maybe because she too had always felt out of place in her own family.

“You know what I’ve been wondering?”

“What’s that?”

“Well, you definitely are persistent. You’ve been asking me out practically ever since you met me. Why me?”

He squinted at her. “Seems pretty obvious to me. Why do you think?”

“I suppose because I seem like some kind of challenge since I turned you down the first time. Maybe you’re not used to rejection.”

He lifted one eyebrow. “You saw me get rejected at the wedding. By Annika.”

“Yes, but, that was…that was Annika. And that’s now. What about before? From what I hear, you’ve dated half the models in Hollywood.”

The expression on his face made her shift uncomfortably. She hadn’t meant to insult him. He tossed back a shot of coffee. “Don’t believe everything you hear. Yeah, I liked to party back then. Anything to get out of the house. Depending on who my dad was dating, it was either a war zone or the loneliest place in LA. So yup. I partied. What about you?”

“Nope. I studied.” She flashed a smile at him. “But I do know what you mean. My parents divorced when I was seven. Both of them remarried. I ping-ponged back and forth and it sucked. My mother divorced again, then again. She’s on her fourth husband now. I acquired a few stepsisters and ex-stepsisters along the way. I know the whole war-zone feeling. And the lonely feeling.”

Under his sympathetic gaze, she felt a wave of heat travel slowly up her face, from her neck to her hairline. Oh no, not The Blush. She hated when her emotions wrote themselves across her skin in living color. A mortifying shade of red, no doubt.

“You’re blushing. That’s…fascinating.”

If anything, the heat in her face got more intense. “Why? It’s a perfectly normal physiological process.”

“Because you’re supposed to be Nurse Badass. Nurse Badass, blushing?”

God, should she open a window or something? Maybe pour water over her head? “You don’t have a freezer by chance, do you? If I could just stick my head in it for a moment, that would be great.”

He laughed, teeth flashing against his stubbled jaw. “Believe me, it’s adorable. I could watch you blush all day.”

She closed her eyes and pressed her hands against her cheeks to cool them down. So much for being a medical professional. Jesus.

When she opened her eyes again, his expression was all business. “This is my fault, anyway. I didn’t intend to hijack my appointment with all this personal stuff. We should probably get to it, but if you want to reschedule, I’ll understand.”

“No, no. I’m here. Willing and able.” She seized onto his change of topic with a massive sense of relief, as if they’d stepped back from the edge of a cliff. Nursing, she could handle. “When my grandfather had his flan accident and got burned, he didn’t trust the doctors to work on him. I took a course on burn-specific massage techniques. They worked really well for him and I imagine they would for you too. I suggest we start slow because it can be somewhat painful.”

“That’s nothing new,” he muttered. “Isn’t all PT painful? Bring it on, Nurse Badass. Where and how should we do this?”

“Well, I brought a yoga mat. You can lie on that, in whatever way feels most comfortable. We’ll just clear a space next to you.”

“I got that part.” He stood up and lifted the coffee table out of the way, plopping it in a corner of the room. She spread out the yoga mat in the center of the living room, making sure there was plenty of room to move around it, then sat on her heels next to it.

He came back to stand near her. She glanced up, surprised to see him hesitate, a vulnerable expression crossing his face. “Shirt on or off?”

Ah, of course. He felt uncomfortable showing her the full extent of his scarring. She’d just have to be extra professional to put him at ease. It would be a lot easier in a more official medical setting, and without the sexual awareness that hung between them. But she could do it.

“Shirt off. Take everything off except your underwear. It’s best if I get a complete picture of what we’re dealing with.”

He nodded once, his expression darkening. She saw his Adam’s apple move up and down as he swallowed. “It’s not a pretty sight, I should warn you.”

“Believe me, I’ve seen it all. You don’t have to worry.”

After just a little more hesitation, he put his hands to the lower edge of his black t-shirt and lifted it over his head.

And she realized how wrong she was.