Free The Arsonist by Mary Burton Page B

T-shirt. The one bright spot about last night had been the dream he’d had about her. She’d been naked. Willing. Hot. He’d taken her on this very workbench.
    He set down the torch. “Can I help you?”
    He fantasized about taking her upstairs right now and spending the better part of the day in bed with her. No love. No promises. Just hot sex.
    “Look, I’m new in town,” she said. “I mean I am from Preston Springs, but I haven’t been back in a year. Long story short, I don’t know many people under the age of sixty anymore. I was thinking you’d like to have lunch with me.”
    That was about the last thing he expected. “Why?”
    His question made her laugh. “I don’t know, I thought it could be fun.”
    “Fun. It’s been my experience that everybody does something for a reason.”
    She arched an eyebrow. “Fun isn’t reason enough?”
    “Not generally.”
    She didn’t look offended. “Look, I’m just asking for a lunch date, not a trip down the aisle, sport. If you don’t want to go out with me then just say so. I’m a big girl and can take it.”
    She had a spine. He liked that. That didn’t mean that he didn’t think she was up to something. She was. But what better way to find out her agenda than over lunch. “Lunch sounds good.”
    The slight tension in her face softened. She checked her watch. “It’s just ten-thirty now. How about I pick you up at twelve?”
    “Twelve is good. But I’ll pick you up. And wear jeans. We’ll go for a ride on my motorcycle. That is, if you aren’t afraid of bikes.”
    She grinned. “There’s little that frightens me.”
    This was going to be fun. “See you at twelve.”

    Darcy was terrified of motorcycles.
    There was something about hurtling down the road—exposed—on a piece of metal that defied common sense.
    But she’d be damned if a motorcycle ride was going to scare her off this date. So, she spent the next hour going over the questions she wanted to ask Gannon.
    She had to be very careful. If Gannon was Nero, he was dangerous. And even if he was just the burned-out investigator, she still needed his help.
    She settled on wearing a pink T-shirt, jeans and boots. And though she’d have denied it, she did spend extra time with her makeup and hair. In the end, she pulled her long curls into a high ponytail. The style was neat, efficient and didn’t look like she’d tried as hard as she had. She hurried down the back stairs through the kitchen.
    Her mother was at the stove, cutting onions for a pot of chili. “So where are you headed?”
    “Lunch.”
    “A date?”
    “Not exactly.”
    Her mother frowned. “The tavern hasn’t been swept.”
    “Trevor said he’d do it.”
    “He’s not here.”
    She refused to be drawn into an argument. “I’ll be back by two. Time enough to sweep and get prepped for the dinner crowd.” She opened the screened door. “Where is Trevor anyway?”
    Her mother’s shoulders stiffened. “I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”
    “Right. Well, when you see him, tell him I need to be paid back.”
    Her mother’s jaw tightened. “He’ll make good on your check.”
    “Let’s hope so.” She’d invited Gannon to lunch so by her way of thinking, she was on the hook for the bill. Her credit card, tucked in her back pocket, was almost maxed out but she could charge the meal if Gannon didn’t go nuts when he ordered.
    She crossed the room and kissed her mother on the cheek.
    Her mother looked at her, surprise in her tired eyes. “What was that for?”
    “Sorry about the fight earlier.”
    Her mother nodded stiffly. “Have a good lunch.”
    It was the closest her mother had ever come to an endearment. “See you in a couple of hours.”
    Darcy headed out the back door and walked to the front of the tavern. At exactly twelve noon, she heard the roar of a motorcycle engine as Gannon rounded the corner on his bike.
    Her insides fluttered. God, but he looked so fine in his leather jacket and black