Staff Sergeant Nathan Andrews stared out the window of his rig into the baking heat of Baghdad International. He didn’t consciously see the shimmering heat on the tarmac, the Stryker troop transports and Humvees, or the squads armed with M-16s and MP5s protecting the embattled airport. Everything going on around him only registered at the back of his mind. All he saw was his past, and the one woman he’d never been able to forget. She’d been on his mind a lot lately, as the days remaining in his commitment dwindled to single numbers. He wondered if the girl from his memory measured up, or if he’d been holding an imaginary yardstick to other women for eight long years.

Six more days of convoy runs and planes coming in hot, and he was done, free to find her. If she was even still in Ludington, or even Michigan for that matter...

He loved the time he’d given to the Air Force, to his country, but that phase of his life was officially over in less than a week and damned if it didn’t feel good.

When he’d come to the desert the first time, many moons ago, he’d thought he’d spend most of his time on his rig, but these days, anyone who could hold a weapon rode convoy. He’d done his share of it and expected to do a helluva sight more even if he was bailing in just a few days. He’d faced an uncertain future way too many times to take anything for granted.

He’d head back to the States with a reasonably decent bankroll, thanks to a butt-load of hazard pay. He had already lined up a job with a firehouse and bought a house, sight unseen. His old crowd had moved on, so finding his old flame would be that much harder, but the Air Force had taught him that he was up to a challenge.

He didn’t regret many things, but walking away from Charly Davis was one of them. They’d had something special, and he’d pissed it away by acting like a stupid twenty-year old. Now, with a lifetime of experience crammed into eight years of service, he realized what they’d had together, and dammit if he didn’t want it back, provided he made it out of Iraq alive.

He’d had his share of women over the years, but none had ever wormed into his heart the way Charly had. No one had made him laugh so freely; no one had brought his cock to full alert with only a whisper. He’d had something truly special with her. Yeah, the first thing on his agenda when he returned to Michigan was tracking down the girl he’d let get away; he just hoped like hell she wasn’t already hitched.

The radio blared, alerting his crew of an F-16 coming in hot, and he cleared his mind of everything but the here-and-now--doing the job and doing it right--because if he didn’t, someone would probably die. Maybe even him.

* * * *

Charly Davis popped open the trunk of the department-issued sedan and shrugged into her turnout gear. The smoldering hulk of the video store she was investigating was highlighted by the red strobes of the rigs which had extinguished the blaze and the dull glow of the breaking day.

As much as the exhilaration of beginning a new investigation pumped her up, she was damned tired. This was the third connected arson fire in less than two weeks, and the perp was getting more aggressive with each successive blaze. It was only a matter of time before he killed someone, and she’d be damned if she let that happen on her watch. She’d catch this bastard first, before someone got dead.

She’d performed the usual investigative procedures with the first two fires, looking into the possibility of insurance fraud or grudges against the business owners, but she found no red flags in either area or, hell, in any area. The owners of the buildings had nothing in common: no shared mortgage holder, insurer or anything. The lack of clues was frustrating as hell and pointed inexorably to one thing: serial arson. Jesus, just what she didn’t need.

She scanned the area as she stowed her sidearm in the lockbox, which was welded to the trunk floor, and grabbed her evidence case. The usual neighborhood gawkers were there, but no familiar faces were in the crowd; no one jumped out at her as being present at the other two fires.

Profiling 101 said that firestarters liked to watch both the fire and the cleanup, and she hadn’t snoozed through those classes. Her closure record proved that point.

Around her, the cleanup effort was already underway. The probies assigned to each truck were busy walking the attack lines, the heavy rubberized hoses draped over one shoulder as they let gravity pull the standing water back to earth. She remembered those days, remembered being the FNG--fucking new guy--all too well. Now, as an investigator, she was even more of an outsider than before.

She’d crossed over to the unthinkable. She’d become a cop. Granted, she was an arson investigator, but in Ludington, when you went into arson, you went to the police academy, learned how to fire a weapon, then strapped it on and donned a badge of a different kind.

As she walked toward the scene, she got a few nods of acknowledgement from the more senior members of the crews, but stares from the rooks and younger smoke-eaters. Female firefighters were enough of an anomaly in small cities like this, but for a woman to pass the rigorous Firefighter II certification, while earning a degree in Criminal Justice, was unprecedented. Her dedication and vision toward the end goal had earned her the totally trite nickname of “Ice Queen”. Since she’d accomplished her dream, it didn’t bother her ... much. Now that she’d reached her goal, she did so enjoy rubbing their noses in it.

She whipped her long blonde hair into a ponytail and then donned the red helmet, which designated her as Arson/Homicide, even though everyone at the scene already knew she was a red-hat. Clicking on her Maglite, she entered the potential crime scene, her mind settled totally on the job in front of her.

*

Nate found himself frozen in place by the woman tucking her hair up into a scarlet helmet. Her back was turned, so he couldn’t see a damned thing but a waterfall of long, blonde hair. Still, the sight brought to mind memories long past, of Charly, a woman who had been his equal in every possible way. He’d had no luck in tracking her down over the two weeks he’d been in town, but he’d also been on duty almost continuously; it was one of the trials of being a probie. To be honest, as much as he’d vowed to find her, now that he was actually in Michigan, he’d gotten a raving case of cold feet. What if she was married? Could he stand knowing another man had what he wanted?

His cock did a sudden jump to attention as he watched the lithe way the stranger moved beneath her clunky, form-killing turnouts before disappearing into the still-smoldering shell of the building. Who in the hell was she? Could it possibly be Charly?

He didn’t think he’d uttered the words aloud, but by the snicker coming from fifteen-year veteran, CC Jones, he must have. “Don’t even think about it, FNG. She’s the original Ice Queen. Left us to become an arson investigator. A freakin’ cop.” CC spat the phrase as if it were an epithet.

Nate smiled in response. Unlike the men he now called brothers, he’d worked with women in authority. Hell, he’d worked with women in the thick of battle on convoy runs. Some dudes might get their Jockeys in a twist about working with or for a female, but he wasn’t one of them.

Aside from his instantaneous lust for a woman of whom he’d seen nothing more than her hair, arson investigation fascinated him. He knew the basics, but he’d ever had a chance to explore the details and procedures. Arson fires on Air Force bases were a specialty job farmed out when the rare human-set fire occurred. Now that he was a civilian, maybe he would look into arson investigation.

As the last of the water drained from the attack hose, he glanced at his watch. At seven-thirty, his shift had ended an hour ago. He was dying to see what the Ice Queen looked like out of her turnouts ... and if fate had just given him the boot to the ass he needed to reignite his old flame.

* * * *

Charly stepped into the morning sunlight and lifted her face to the heat before taking a long, cleansing breath.

This had been a torch, no doubt about it. The accelerant trail had been stupidly obvious, almost a taunt, and hauntingly similar to the two other fires she’d investigated. Now that she had confirmed arson, and highly likely the same perp, it fell into serial territory. This guy was just starting. She blew out a frustrated breath and headed for her car, taking a moment to look over the pedestrian traffic patterns and the scene surrounding the store in general. As before, no one showed any particular interest, and cars pulled into the parking slots of adjacent stores as if nothing had happened.

A patrol unit was on-site and would stay until either she dismissed him or the building’s owners hired a private security guard. A young man with an exceedingly nice ass propped a hip against the patrol car. His head angled to the side as he engaged the street cop in desultory conversation. While he was certainly hanging out, she saw, in a quick sweep, that he wore a Ludington Fire Department tee. His clothing certainly didn’t remove him from her subject list; firefighters had committed arson--John Orr came immediately to mind--but the vast majority were dedicated to putting out fires not starting them. However, something was vaguely familiar about him. Her ambiguous recognition made sense since she’d probably seen him around, but he was certainly new to the department.

When the FNG saw her stepping from the ruined building, he straightened, as did the officer, though they were too far away for her to make out their features clearly.

She nodded to them both and then headed toward her car, anxious to get the evidence she’d collected through the chain of custody process and to log her initial report. Then she’d jump into a hot, steamy shower to wash off the fire grime and sweat. She’d find out who both the patrol cop and the firefighter were at the precinct, and include them in her report.

“Well Charly Davis, as I live and breathe.” A rich, whiskey-toned baritone hailed her playfully from afar; the memory of sweat-slick sheets, tangled bodies and leather cuffs assaulted her, instantly hardening her nipples and sending a surge of lust through her blood. Seconds later, pure heartbreak tinged by anger overrode the images and sensations.

She turned slowly on her heel and pasted a smile that felt more like a grimace on her face. She’d be nice to the bastard; really, she would, but the fact that he looked so damned good as he strode her way only fueled her resentment.

Dark hair was cut close, exposing a face which would have been almost pretty if not for the lines fanning hazel eyes and grooves around his mouth, suggesting he laughed early and often. The lines were new. Eight years ago, he’d worn youthful studliness like a badge of honor.

His body, if anything, was better. He could be a poster-boy for the fire service. Long lean lines were encased in jeans, a tee shirt displaying his upper body to perfection. The man was positively mouthwatering, just as he’d been all those years ago. It was too easy to remember the feel of his hands, pushing her beyond the brink, past her comfort levels and into areas she’d never imagined existed. Areas where pain became a pleasure of its own.

It was too easy to imagine him touching her all over again. Her body reacted to the imagery, her nipples tightening as her core pulsed. She pushed away the memory with real effort, but telling her body to stand down wasn’t so easy. She took a deep breath and fought to control the impulse to throw herself into his arms and welcome him home.

“Nathan Andrews. Color me surprised.” She was proud her voice didn’t waver. She sounded as strong and unaffected as she had intended. She waved to his uniform shirt. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you back in Ludington. And certainly not in uniform.”

He shrugged, his gaze skimming her body, almost as if he could see beneath the bulky turnouts. Hell, he’d seen enough in the past, all he had to do was remember. And, judging by the way his hazel eyes had gone a shade darker, that’s just what he was doing. “My commitment was over. I wanted to come back,” he said with a shrug.

Commitment? What in the hell was he talking about? No, she wouldn’t ask. She didn’t care. Really, she didn’t. “Well, nice to see you again, but I’ve gotta go log my report.”

“Hey,” he said, surprise in his voice. “Can’t we get some coffee or something, catch up?”

She pushed down a lancing spear of anguish at his words and laughed mirthlessly. “So, how did you think this was gonna play out, champ? We’d have a quickie in the car, and you’d be the newest stud in the ‘house? Be able to tell everyone you banged the Ice Queen ... again?”

His eyes sparked with anger. “That’s beneath both of us, and you know it. Why are you so mad?”

Charly stepped away, fury almost blinding her now. “You dare ask me that? After what you did? Stay the hell away from me, Nathan. I don’t need this ... or you.”

Whirling on her heel, she strode to her car, perilously close to hyperventilating. She wouldn’t look back. She. Would. Not. But she did anyway, and damned if Nathan didn’t have the most dumbfounded look on his face she’d ever seen.

Good, served the bastard right.

Then he was coming after her with his face set in tight lines and his strides long and fast. His hand closed on her shoulder, and he spun her around to face him.

“What the fuck, Charly?”

She wasn’t going to cry, though she felt the painful prick of tears behind her lids. Dammit, she was stronger than this, stronger than him.

“Go away, Nate. There’s nothing more to say. You said it all eight years ago.”

And, he had said it, albeit without a sound. He’d reduced their time together to nothing more than idle firehouse gossip and filleted her heart in the process. Never mind the fact that she’d had to be better, faster and harder than any man she worked with. His loose lips had almost cost her the job she loved.

The patrol officer made an opportune appearance, no doubt spurred by the way Nate had manhandled her.

“Is everything all right here, Detective Davis?” The young cop was looking very pointedly at Nate’s hand, which still held her shoulder possessively, as if he had a right to touch her.

“Fine,” she said through her teeth. “I’m just going to head into the precinct and start the paperwork.” She shook loose of Nate’s grip and popped the trunk of her car, shimmying out of her turnouts to the jeans beneath. After stowing her gear and evidence case, she liberated her sidearm from the lockbox and slid the Beretta into the holster at the small of her back before turning back to the men.

“Gentlemen,” she nodded pleasantly, even though her heart was trying to thump right out of her chest. Stepping into the car, she did the one thing she’d sworn she’d never do. She fled.

She made it all of two blocks before the shakes overtook her. Pulling over to the side of the busy street, she rested her head on the steering wheel and let the tears flow.

As she did, she and Nate’s last encounter played through her mind. She couldn’t stop it.

Nathan’s hands bracketed the leather cuffs enclosing her wrists; his body rested in a full, deliciously sinful press against her back.

His breath whispered against her ear. “You asked for this, you know. Every kiss of the paddle, every stroke of the feather, every brush of my lips.”

Charly shivered in response; her body arched involuntarily into him to soak up his heat, his scent.

He ground his cock into the crease of her ass. “Didn’t you, Charly?”

“Yes,” she sighed in helpless response, her body liquid with need. She’d wanted this for so very long, but she couldn’t believe they’d waited for their last night together to act upon their mutual fantasy.

Then he pushed her forward, bending her over the upholstered hotel room chair.

He untethered the cuffs from behind her back and draped her hands over the seat of the chair, then crouched in front of her and clipped each cuff to the front leg. He reached up and pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Are you sure, Charly? Really sure?”

She smiled in response and ran her tongue over her lips, tasting the kiss he’d given her at the door. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

He rose with an unholy look in his eye and left her there for a long moment, before returning and standing directly behind her. Their choppy breathing was the only sound in the room.

Charly squirmed in anticipation. She could probably turn her head, but that would spoil the game. Then, he took the option away from her, leaning over her back to fasten a silk blindfold over her eyes. The sensation of the smooth, sensuous fabric was almost overwhelming in the sudden darkness. Her other senses took over, teasing her into an arousal so intense it was almost painful.

She could hear him moving behind her, rummaging around in the bag of toys he’d brought. With each sound her anticipation ratcheted higher, until her nipples were hard pebbles against the chair and her pussy wept. Her thighs grew wet with cream.

“I’d gag you, but I want to hear every little whimper coming out of your luscious mouth.” His breath was sinful against her ear; his heat, a brand against her back.

Charly lifted her head. Her body cried out for release in the here and now, but her mind was no longer able to process the memories, the feelings, that Nate’s mere presence had re-exposed in both her body and soul.

God, how was she ever going to deal with him?