Free Flashpoint by Jill Shalvis Page B

said softly, “then I should be able to do this.”
    â€œWhat?”
    She set her hands on his chest, then let them glide up around his neck, bringing her body flush to his as she hugged him.
    For one beat he held himself rigid, then with a low, rough breath, let his hands drop from the counter and come around her, hard.
    She didn’t look into his face, knowing if she did, she’d kiss him again, and this was just a hug, comfort.
    Friendship.
    So she pressed her face into his throat and held on.
    â€œBrooke,” he murmured, and the hand he had fisted in her shirt low on her back opened, pressing her even closer as he buried his face in her hair and just breathed her in. “Brooke—”
    The kitchen door opened, and Eddie looked at them, brows raised. “If I cook tomorrow,” he asked, “can I have the same thank-you?”
    Â 
    M UCH LATER THAT NIGHT , back at her grandmother’s house, Brooke thought about the evening. About the hug and her reaction to it. Partially, because her body was still revved from what should have been an innocent touch, but there was more to it.
    According to Sam, she could be the fast, or the hungry. But when it came to her life, she’d always been the fast, never slowing down, never relaxing, always doing, going, running. And for what? To always end up alone, wondering what she was missing? She’d come here out of duty, but she’d also wanted to find herself. Maybe…maybe she couldn’t do that at the speed of light, maybe she had to slow down. Maybe that’s what was missing.
    She needed to give herself time to catch her breath, time to relax.
    Needed to do that whole let-loose thing.
    Moving through the kitchen with a mug of tea, she looked out the window at the dark night and thought about it, thought about Zach. As she did, a now-familiar tingle began low in her belly and spread. And suddenly, she had a feeling she knew exactly how she should be letting loose. And it included mixing business and pleasure.
    A lot of mixing.

7
    Z ACH RAN in the mornings. It woke him up, kept him in shape and gave him time to think. Typically, he thought about work or, more recently, Brooke. He really liked thinking about Brooke.
    But this morning, after having a dream about the arson fire, it wasn’t Brooke on his mind, and he changed his routine, running past Hill Street. When he reached the fire site, he thought maybe he was still dreaming.
    The place had been demolished, razed.
    He stared at it in disbelief. On a hunch, he ran back to his house, got into his truck and drove to the site of a different fire, the one from a few months previous, a fire he’d also “cried” arson to Tommy about and had gotten his wrist slapped for.
    That property was also demolished.
    And the one before that? Yeah. Demolished. Standing at the edge of the third lot, where nothing remained but dirt, he pulled out his cell phone, but didn’t hit any numbers as his last meeting with the chief ran through his head. He’d been asked, and not very nicely, to do his own job and no one else’s.
    Somehow he doubted stalking the fire sites would be considered doing his own job.
    Shit.
    Tommy Ramirez had told him to be on his best behavior, but that was proving damn hard to do. Driving home, he called Aidan, but had to leave a message. While waiting for a return call, he tried to distract himself with a Lakers game but his mind kept wandering to the arson.
    He couldn’t let it go. Driven to do something, Zach pulled out his laptop. He’d already typed up all his thoughts and notes on the fires. Now he needed to talk it out with someone, and oddly enough, the person that kept coming to mind wasn’t Aidan, but someone with sweet baby blues and a smile that pretty much destroyed him.
    Brooke. He was driven by her, too, because, damn, she was something. She was something, and…and she wanted a relationship.
    Driven as he was, he