Heatwave (5 page)

Grandy frowned.

Emily lifted one eyebrow in silent challenge.

Silence reined for a moment before Grandy let out a defeated sigh. “Oh, all right. You win. For now.” She wagged her finger at Emily as if she were a naughty child. “But I want final approval so you don’t hire any old Joe off the street who says he can cook.”

“I can handle it.”

“Call the agency in my address book and tell them exactly what we need. These are late-afternoon and evening classes, so there’s bound to be a qualified instructor looking for a little pin money.”

“I’ll take care of it, Grandy,” she said with practiced patience. She knew how important the school was to her grandmother, but just because she didn’t know a saucepan from a sauté pan didn’t mean she was a complete moron. “I know what to do.”

“You’ll have to sign them on to teach the entire course. And draw up a contract.”

Emily drew in a long, steady breath and let it out slowly. “Yes, ma’am.”

Before Grandy launched into more instructions, Drew returned. One look at his face had Emily tensing. Something was wrong. “What is it?”

“I just spoke to my captain,” he said, focusing his attention on Grandy. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Mrs. Norris. There’s been another fire.”

E
MILY’S HEART
gave a sudden lurch when her grandmother’s lashes fluttered closed. The moment her lips began to move silently, Emily knew Grandy was praying. Taking into account everything she’d been through recently, she didn’t think a few prayers were particularly out of order.

She almost wished Drew had told her first so she could break the news to her grandmother herself, except Grandy did have a right to know her property had been damaged—again.

Grandy opened her eyes, now filled with moisture. “Please, tell me no one was hurt.”

Drew shook his head. “Thankfully, no.”

“There wouldn’t be anyone at the school today,” Emily reminded Grandy. “Not on a Saturday.” She gripped her grandmother’s hand and held it tightly, for her own comfort or her grandmother’s, she couldn’t rightly say. She looked up at Drew. “How bad was it?”

He tucked his hands in the front pockets of his trousers. “The damage wasn’t to the school this time.” He let out a sigh. “I wish I had better news, but the garage is gone. The crew responding managed to extinguish the flames before they spread to the house or school, so
the damage has been contained to one structure. They weren’t able to save the car, but arrived in time to prevent an explosion.”

“Do you…” Grandy’s voice cracked as she struggled to hold back tears. “Do you know how it happened?”

“I’m sure it’s intentional, but I’ll know more once I inspect the scene.”

Grandy lay back against the stark white bed linens, looking frail and every second of her age. “I don’t understand why this is happening,” she whispered.

Neither did Emily, but she was determined to find the rat bastard and take whatever steps were necessary to ensure he spent the rest of his life behind bars.

“Grandy, is there anyone you suspect could be responsible?” She concentrated on keeping her voice gentle and soothing, a difficult task considering the dangerous combination of tension, fear and anger simmering inside her. “Someone with an ax to grind.”

“Or a match to strike.” Grandy bit out the words, her voice uncharacteristically hard. She winced, then let out a sigh. “No. Not that I can think of.”

Drew moved from the foot of the bed. He settled his hand briefly over Grandy’s shoulder, careful to avoid her injured arm and hand, in an unmistakable gesture of comfort. “I will stop whoever is doing this to you. You have my word.”

Emily admired his determination, even if she hadn’t a clue how he’d accomplish such a feat. Unless…

“I realize it’s ridiculous even to say this,” he continued as he pulled the chair up to the side of the bed and
sat. “But try not to worry. Concentrate on getting well.”

The slight curve of Grandy’s brief smile was halfhearted at best. “Thank you.”

Even Drew’s promise to bring justice to the individual responsible failed to chase the worry from Emily’s grandmother’s eyes completely. Now, on top of some lunatic trying to destroy everything Grandy’d worked for over the past fifty years, the academy’s best instructor would be laid up for who knew how long. Emily didn’t mind assuming command, especially in such an emergency, but she wasn’t about to stand idly by and let her grandmother be ruined by some wacko with a penchant for flames.

She thought about hiring a rent-a-cop to patrol the area, then quickly discarded the idea. Twenty-four-hour security didn’t come cheap. Grandy’s vehement refusal to cancel so much as two classes until she could teach them herself probably meant funding was an issue. While round-the-clock security might prevent another attack, scaring off the arsonist wouldn’t lead to his or her capture.

The most logical plan of action would be to cancel all classes until Drew apprehended the culprit, but Emily had a feeling they’d be playing right into the arsonist’s hands by doing so. No, what she needed was…

“Drew.”

He’d think she’d finally lost it. Quite frankly, she thought so, too, but she refused to let that little detail stop her now that she’d latched onto her idea, and, she hoped, a solution.

“Yeah?”

“You need to catch this guy, right?”

“That’s the idea.”

She ignored the hint of sarcasm in his voice and plunged ahead before she lost her nerve. “I know how you can do it.”

He leaned back in the chair, a patronizing expression on his face. “Oh? And how is that?”

“Substitute teaching.”

“I’m not following you.”

“By taking over Grandy’s classes. They’re in the evening so it wouldn’t interfere with your other investigations. And, it’d give you an opportunity to observe some of the students and staff.”

“Emily…” Grandy started.

“No,” she interrupted. “He’d be perfect. He’s a great cook.”

Drew leaned forward, hands braced on his knees and spoke slowly. “Not a chance.”

“Why not?” The idea made perfect sense to her. He was an arson inspector. There was an arsonist on the loose who could very well be a staff member or student of the school. These weren’t random fires. Someone was specifically targeting her grandmother. “You know how to cook.”

“That doesn’t qualify me to teach,” he argued. “This is the Norris Culinary Academy, not the Acme Truck-Driving School.”

Her grandmother’s expression grew thoughtful. “Is he really that good?” she asked Emily.

“I think so. And I bet your students will get what
they pay for. You have lesson plans, don’t you, Grandy?”

“Yes, I do.” Grandy smiled at her, then shifted her attention to Drew. “So, you have taught before?”

Drew shook his head, feeling as if he’d just followed the Mad Hatter down the rabbit’s hole. “Not in the culinary arts,” he told Velma before shifting his attention back to Emily and the determination in her big brown eyes. “And I don’t get it. How do you expect me to catch an arsonist while whipping up a few cakes and pies?”

“That’s my Down Home Delights course,” Velma said. “More elaborate desserts like crème brûlée, cherries jubilee and baked Alaska are in line with Elegant Desserts.”

“Simple,” Emily said, as if it were just that. “If you’re at the school as an instructor, you’d have the opportunity to observe the students and staff in an unofficial capacity. Kinda like an undercover fire cop.”

Arson inspectors
were
known as fire cops, but last time he’d looked at his job description,
undercover
hadn’t been listed.

He suspected his reluctance might have more to do with the matter of one incredibly hot kiss which refused to leave his mind. Passing off the incident as an unconscious action caused by her dreams of kissing another guy wouldn’t fly, either. Not when she’d gone and murmured
his
name in her sleep as he’d tried to wake her. Oh no, she’d been kissing him all right, and he hadn’t exactly been an unwilling participant.

She’d tasted good. So good he wouldn’t mind a repeat
performance. But there were other issues needing his attention, his self-preservation for one.

Not only had he spent the last twelve hours inside a hospital, he’d been continually plagued with visions of kissing Emily senseless. Spending more time with her than absolutely necessary was a definite concern. But he did have a firebug to catch, and she had made a good argument, one he couldn’t ignore any more than he could forget the way her lips had tasted.

He’d just have to make damned certain he kept his priorities in line, which shouldn’t be all that difficult since she wouldn’t be in town for more than a few weeks. A detail which suited his short-term-relationships-only rule to perfection. The last thing he needed, or wanted, was a clingy woman falling for him in a way that made him uncomfortable.

“Okay.” His imagination conjured a knight in armor, fighting a fire-breathing dragon. “I’ll do it.”

For safety reasons, he tried to convince himself. For Emily and the staff and students at the school. It really wasn’t at all unusual for an arson inspector to spend extended periods of time at the scene of the crime, and since this particular firebug did appear to have it in for Velma or the school, Emily’s crazy plan actually made sense. Spending more time with Emily didn’t make sense.

Gratitude filled her gaze as she gave him a warm smile. “Thank you,” she said.

His heart rate really shouldn’t have increased simply because she’d smiled at him. The physiological acceleration
couldn’t be prevented any more than could the images of her body pressed against his.

“Well, that problem’s solved,” Velma said, her relief apparent in the way she settled back comfortably against the pillows. “One less worry.”

Maybe for Velma. He had a bad feeling his had only just begun.

A rail-thin, older nurse bustled into the room. She tossed him and Emily a harsh look, enhanced by an angry scowl which deepened the heavy lines on her weathered face. The tightly wound bun of silver hair at the top of her head made her look even more stern.

Drew stood. Unlike his brother, he
could
take a hint. “We should be going so you can rest,” he said to Velma.

The nurse muttered incoherently as she read the thermal graphs spewing from the monitor, then turned her scowl on Velma.

Emily rose in obvious preparation for battle if the crotchety nurse uttered so much as a single harsh word to Velma.

“Are you in pain, hon?”

In his line of work, not much surprised Drew, but his jaw fell open at the sound of the sweetest, most compassionate voice he’d ever heard.

“A little,” Velma said.

“On a scale of one to ten?”

“Seven.”

The nurse’s mouth twisted into what looked more like a grimace than a smile. “We’ll get you aboard the Morphine Express right away.” She turned her grimace
on Emily. “I’m on duty until eleven. You call me anytime to check on your grandmother.”

“Uh…thank you,” Emily stammered, obviously as shell-shocked as he. To Velma she said, “I’ll come back in the morning, Grandy. Is there anything you need? Anything you need me to take care of for you at home?”

“The books need to go to the accountant Monday morning, but that’s the only thing I can think of at the moment.”

Emily leaned down to kiss her grandmother goodbye. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Everything will be okay, Grandy.”

“It will, you know,” he said once they exited Velma’s room.

She looked up and gave him a wry smile. “I hope you’re right,” she said. “Because I hate offering false hope to the most important person in my life.”

E
MILY STOOD
at the edge of the driveway behind a ribbon of yellow crime scene tape and stared in disbelief at the charred remains of the garage and what had once been a well-maintained, older-model Ford Taurus. The acrid scent of burned wood, smoke and chemicals permeated the air, causing her stomach to roll.

The roof had collapsed, but the footings remained, stretching nightmarishly toward the sky. Amid the rubble crouched Drew. He wore a pair of surgical gloves on his big hands, and had discarded his shovel for a small metal object which he used to gently lift the corner of some twisted object she couldn’t identify
from a distance. The damage was so extensive, she doubted she’d be able to recognize a single object from the garage if she held it in her hands.

She’d expected anger, but all she could summon was shocked disbelief that any one person could intentionally cause so much damage. Structures could be replaced. So could the car. The emotional aspect of the situation was an altogether different matter.

For all intents and purposes, someone was out to get her grandmother. Maybe not physically, but if the person responsible wasn’t caught soon, Emily had to face the fact that her grandmother could very well end up with more than an injured arm.

By the time she and Drew had returned to the house, the firemen were long gone, but a pair of patrolmen lingered. They’d questioned her extensively, but the information she’d given them had been limited to the few facts she knew.

Drew had requested copies of the student files and employment records of the staff for himself, as well as the officers. While she’d gone into the office to make copies, he’d donned his gloves and begun rummaging through the charred skeleton of the garage. Since he’d still been digging around for clues when she’d finished with the copies, she’d gone into the house to take a hot shower and change clothes, then had returned to Grandy’s office for a little research. A little over two hours later she’d seen more than enough to draw a few conclusions.

She left the coolness of the building’s shade and ventured across the courtyard under the blistering heat of
the late-afternoon sun. Drew continued to examine the damage. She crossed the driveway to the small patch of grass and sat cross-legged beneath the Spartan shade of the eucalyptus trees, careful to spread her floral silk skirt over her legs. She leaned back on her hands and kept her gaze on Drew as he worked.

Her mind wandered down an unfamiliar path. One that filled her with an aching sadness. As much as she would’ve preferred to bury her head in the sand, she couldn’t ignore the truth. She’d harbored a few suspicions about the school suffering financially, and she’d been right in her assumption. In the past six months, her grandmother had scaled back, not just on the number of classes she taught, but the overall curriculum had been reduced by a third. After further review, Emily had surmised the decision stemmed more from the low enrollment numbers than from any need by her grandmother to slow down.

She’d already made the decision to extend her visit, at least until her grandmother was able to take care of herself again. She had no reason to return to New York to no job, no apartment and no father for her baby. Why couldn’t Charlie have just been honest with her and admit he hadn’t loved her? Was that so difficult?

For Charles Pruitt, III? Yes. The man had been taking the path of least resistance for as long as she’d known him. Why someone who despised personal conflict as much as he did had become an attorney was another mystery she’d never understand.

So, what exactly was she supposed to do now? She
might extend her stay in Los Angeles, but she couldn’t very well live here forever.

Or could she?