Simultaneously sweating and shivering, he ran around the house to the driveway. Tossing everything into his car, he backed away. Halfway down the drive, he stopped to fish a sweatshirt from his duffel bag.

How far was the nearest neighbor? A mile and a half down the road, Danny asked the elderly man to call the fire department.

Several hours later, Danny stood on Reed’s front lawn. The house still smoked. The smell of wet ash tainted the air, and the house was a soggy, burned mess. Unlike in the city, the mostly volunteer fire department wasn’t on the next block.

The fire chief approached. He raised the clear shield from his soot-streaked face. “Sorry, the house was too far gone to save much.”

Danny blinked. His eyes still stung from smoke. “Any idea how it started?”

“Can’t say for sure yet, but the origin appears to be the woodstove.”

“Shit.”

“Woodstoves start fires every year.” The chief coughed. “Creosote buildup in the chimney, or someone leaves the door open. Embers pop out onto a rug or curtain.”

He’d closed the door, hadn’t he? Danny scrubbed a hand down his face.

“You have a place to stay for the rest of the night?” the fireman asked.

The closest motel was out on the interstate, a thirty-minute drive away. Exhaustion weighted Danny’s body at the thought of driving that far. There was only one place to stay in town. Nothing would suit him more than being that close to Mandy. But she wasn’t going to be happy to see him. Would she let him stay?

Mandy jerked awake. The phone rang next to her ear. She glanced at the clock as she grabbed the receiver before it pealed again and woke everyone. Calls at three in the morning meant accident, death, or other dire emergency. Instant apprehension jump-started her heart. “Hello?”

“It’s Danny. I’m on your front porch. Could you open the door, please?”

His voice gave her nerves another boost. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be right there.” Mandy tossed back the covers and swung her feet to the floor. She tugged her robe over her flannel pajamas and slipped the .38 into the deep pocket from habit.

The house was silent as she left the family apartment and walked into the foyer. She squinted through the peephole. Danny stood on the front porch. Sweat and soot were smeared across his face. His black hair was askew and his clothes were rumpled as if he’d jumped out of bed. Disheveled looked sexy on him, but then Danny would look hot no matter what. She opened the door and let him in. The faint smell of smoke followed him into the house.

“There was a fire.” He coughed.