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for dinner. Now I’ll let you get back to work—I’m sure that’s where you’d rather be, anyway.”
She turned on one heel and walked away without looking back. A group of singles was beginning to gather in the far corner of the big room, laughing, flirting, drinking and dancing. It wasn’t Lindsey’s usual type of entertainment, but maybe it was time for her to make some changes. She’d spent the past two years taking care of her father and fantasizing about Dan. But her father was gone, and now she was tired of sitting in her house alone, waiting for something that was obviously never going to happen.
Bo saw Lindsey approaching, grinned and pulled out a chair. The music was louder in this corner, as were the patrons, so he practically had to yell for her to hear him. “Have you ditched the chaperon?”
Chaperon. That was exactly the way Dan had been acting, Lindsey mused angrily. Or like an older brother. “Yeah, he’s gone,” she agreed without looking around to make sure that was true. “You said something about a dance?”
Bo promptly stood, dropped his hat on his chair and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Yes, ma’am.”
She wasn’t really planning to sleep with Bo—or anyone else—tonight. But there was no need for Dan to know that. It was none of his business how she chose to spend her Friday evening. And that was his choice, she reminded herself.
Damn the man.
Dan was still seething late the next afternoon. Every time he thought about Lindsey—too many times in the past few hours for his peace of mind—he got mad all over again.
What had gotten into her last night? In all the years he’d known her, he’d never seen her act that way. Never heard her talk that way.
He could still see her leaning over the table, green fire in her eyes, a flush of temper on her face, the gaping neckline of her sexy black dress revealing slender, creamy curves that he was male enough to appreciate. He felt vaguely guilty about the number of times he’d mentally replayed that picture…not to mention the unwanted stirrings of response he felt every time he did so.
Hell, he was no better than Jimmy or cowboy Bo, practically drooling over her—even worse, because he was old enough to know better. He’d known Lindsey Gray since she was in pigtails, damn it.
She wasn’t a little girl now.
He might have followed that line of thought a bit further, but he was distracted just then by his work.
Someone had called in another fire.
Lindsey showed up at the scene, of course, a camera around her neck and a notebook in her hand. It annoyed Dan greatly that for the first time her presence distracted him from his work. He had never allowed that to happen before—and he was impatient with himself for doing so now. It had to be because he was still perturbed with her behavior last night, wondering what she’d been trying to prove.
She still looked different, he noted as she marched toward him, her reporter’s look of determination on her face. Her new haircut made her coppery hair lie more softly around her face than the choppy style she’d worn before. Her green eyes were highlighted again by judicious use of cosmetics, and her stubbornly set mouth glistened with a light coat of shiny gloss. Instead of her usual jeans and sweatshirt, she wore a soft-looking, heather-colored mock turtleneck and close-fitting black slacks with black boots.
She looked like a classy, competent, professional woman, he realized abruptly. A far cry from the grubby urchin he’d once known so well. Even as he reluctantly admired the woman, he found himself missing the urchin.
Sidestepping a water hose, Lindsey stopped in front of Dan. “Looks like they wrapped it up quickly.”
He nodded. “We were fortunate this time. A delivery driver saw the smoke from his van and called it in. The fire trucks arrived before the fire had spread from the kitchen to the rest of the house.”
Lindsey turned to survey the smoke-darkened back of the frame bungalow. “You’re certain this fire has nothing to do with the arsonist you’re looking for?”
“Yeah. Mrs. O’Malley went next door to visit her neighbor, got distracted by a television program over there and forgot she’d left something cooking on the stove. I came by to make sure, of course, as soon as I heard there was a fire run in this neighborhood, because it’s in the same general area as the arson fires, but I’m convinced this was totally unrelated.”
She nodded and made a note in her pad.
As the firefighters gathered their equipment in preparation to leave, Dan let his thoughts wander away from work again. “You look…well rested,” he said to Lindsey.
“I was home before ten last night,” she said a bit curtly. “Alone. Are you happy?”
He didn’t understand the distance that seemed to be developing between them—and he didn’t like it. Maybe it was his fault. He cleared his throat. “Listen, you were right about last night. It was none of my business if you wanted to stay and have fun with your friends.”
She didn’t seem at all mollified by his concession. In fact, it only seemed to annoy her more. “Well, gee, thanks. I’m so glad I have your approval. Now I can just go party my toes off without a second thought.”
With that she turned and stormed away, apparently intent on interviewing the resident of the damaged house.
Dan stared after her, utterly bewildered. “What the…?”
“Are you and Lindsey at it again?” a woman’s asked in wry amusement from behind him.
He turned to find Serena North, her hands on her hips, her head tilted to one side as she studied him. “Serena,” he greeted her. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard about the fire, so I came by to check it out. Mrs. O’Malley is a good friend of my mother’s.”
“She’s fine. Upset and embarrassed, of course, but it could have been much worse. As it is, she only gutted her kitchen. She could have lost the house had the fire not been called in so quickly.”
“Poor dear. I’m sure Mother will be here soon to help out.”
Dan found himself watching Lindsey again, noting how sympathetically she seemed to be dealing with the distraught older woman. “What’s with her, anyway?”
Serena frowned in confusion. “Mrs. O’Malley?”
“No, Lindsey,” he answered impatiently. “Has she been acting strangely around you recently?”
“Not that I’ve noticed. She’s made a few changes in her appearance, of course, but every woman does that periodically.”
“It’s more than her appearance. It’s her attitude. Seems like she’s had a real chip on her shoulder for the past week or so. Maybe it’s just around me.”
Serena smiled. “I don’t see anything new about that. You and Lindsey are always squabbling. You telling her she’s getting in your way, her insisting that as a reporter she has a right to be in the middle of everything.”
Dan should have found that admittedly accurate description reassuring, but somehow he didn’t. “I think it’s more than that. She just doesn’t seem like herself.”
Turning to study Lindsey, who was now talking to the fire chief as he prepared to depart, Serena looked momentarily concerned. “I’m sure she’s still adjusting to the loss of her father, even though it had been expected for a long time. It couldn’t have been easy for her, losing both parents within five years, and Lindsey still so young. Maybe it would be easier for her if B.J. was around more, so she wouldn’t feel so alone.”
“She’s hardly alone. She has more friends than anyone in town.”
“That isn’t the same as family. You know that.”
Was that Lindsey’s problem? Was she missing her parents, her