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Amanda’s wedding present, and my future sister-in-law wanted to know if I’d been able to find the gift she wants to give my oldest brother to celebrate his promotion to lieutenant.”
    Emily handed him the dishes then crossed her arms and looked at him skeptically. “Let me guess. You want me to believe you’re really related to the other women on that list, right?”
    He shrugged and his grin turned sheepish.
    What did she care anyway? She’d sworn off men.
    Well, she had!
    Fifteen minutes later they were seated at the round oak table in the corner of the kitchen. Drew had unearthed sliced turkey in the fridge, and rather than BLTs, they shared the best turkey Newburg on toastedEnglish muffins she’d ever tasted, expertly prepared by Drew. Which sure beat anything she could’ve created in the kitchen. Almost anything was preferable to her cooking, a term she used loosely.
    Emily looked across the table at Drew. The man really was way too sexy for her own good, but she couldn’t think about that now. Or ever, and she firmly reminded her wayward hormones of that telling list of women. There were questions that had been simmering in the back of her mind all afternoon that required answers. With everything that had gone on, there hadn’t really been an opportunity to talk to him privately and when she’d had the chance, she’d allowed herself to be sidetracked by that harem of his.
    “Why would a garbage-can fire necessitate an arson inspection?” she asked him suddenly.
    He took a bite of his meal and chewed instead of giving her an answer, making her wonder if he’d even heard her.
    “I noticed some charred crates, too,” she continued. “And soot stains near the exit. The fire today wasn’t the first, was it?”
    Drew let out a sigh and set his fork on the delicate china plate. He’d expected her questions sooner or later. He’d just wished it’d been later, when he had some solid answers. “You’re not a reporter, are you?”
    “No. I’m…” She paused and let out a short huff of breath. “I was an advertising executive.”
    “Was?” he prompted, attempting to steer the conversation into a more personal direction. Emily intriguedhim, but then most women did on one level or another, so he wasn’t overly concerned.
    “Corporate downsizing.” She dismissed the subject with a wave of her hand. “The fires?”
    So much for a redirection of topic, he thought, although he planned a revisit shortly. He wanted to know more about this absent father of her baby, which should be reason enough to ignore the faint stirring of need in his gut whenever he looked into Emily’s big brown eyes. Only he couldn’t seem to help himself.
    “Today was the third incident,” he told her.
    Her eyes widened in disbelief. “The third?” She shook her head as if trying to absorb the information. “Grandy never said a word to me about the fires.”
    Maybe because she was guilty as hell. “Maybe she didn’t want to worry her family,” he said instead.
    Emily set her plate aside and rested her arms over the oak table. Her frown made a reappearance. He’d known plenty of women in his lifetime, and not a single one of them looked half as tempting as Emily Dugan when they frowned.
    “What else has happened?” she demanded. “How long has this been going on?”
    “Maybe you should talk to your grandmother about it.” He wasn’t concerned with putting his investigation at risk by sharing information with her, but he did feel she should be talking to Velma rather than to him. Under normal circumstances, they wouldn’t even be having this conversation.
    “And let Grandy excuse the incidents as insignificant little nuisances? Not a chance.” Her big soulfuleyes filled with determination that matched the firmness of her tone. “Besides, any investigation performed by the fire department is a matter of public record. Which translates to you not being in danger of breaching confidentiality laws by telling me