The Stranger In Room 205 (Hot off the Press! 1)

As Sam had noticed before, Dan reacted visibly at the mention of the reporter’s name. He scowled. “Yeah, she showed up. Got under everybody’s feet asking questions and wanting to know what we were doing and why. The fire chief was about ready to tie her up with a fire hose before his job was finished.”

Amused, Sam commented, “I thought the other reporter was covering the fire.”

“Yeah, Riley was there—standing quietly out of the way observing the action, as Lindsey should have been doing.”

“She seems very…dedicated.”

“She’s a pain in the butt,” Dan answered bluntly. “Her brother was my best friend in school, and Lindsey’s always been a decent kid, but when she gets in her reporter mode, she’s like a pit bull with a juicy bone.”

“You think of her as a kid?” Sam pictured the attractive redhead, remembering sleek curves and intelligent eyes. She was young, maybe, but hardly a kid.

“Habit,” Dan admitted. “Like I said, she was my best friend’s little sister. Quite a bit younger than us. I guess that’s still the way I think of her at times.”

Sam had a feeling Lindsey wouldn’t be flattered. She seemed so determined to be taken seriously.

“The fire chief thinks the fire was deliberately set,” Dan commented, his gaze on the water where he worked his lure.

“Arson?”

“Yeah. The signs are definitely there.”

“Insurance scam?”

“No. The barn’s been vacant for years. The owner let the insurance lapse some time ago.”

“Maybe an accident? A trespasser who let a fire get out of hand?”

“Maybe. But it looks like someone meant to burn the place down.”

“I hope it doesn’t—hey.” Responding to another tug on his line, Sam swiftly lifted the tip of his rod to set the hook. The line zinged as the fish sped away from the boat.

“Looks like you’ve got a big one.”

“He’s a fighter, that’s for sure.”

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Dan seemed prepared to watch the battle, but was quickly distracted by a strike on his own lure. That ended any serious conversation for a while. The rest of the afternoon passed quickly and pleasantly, making Sam glad everyone else had been busy when the police chief had been in the mood to fish. It sure beat sitting around the tiny guest house mooning over Serena, he told himself with a grimace.

Sam was working in the yard when Serena arrived home from work on the following Friday. The grass was freshly mowed, and he was running a weed trimmer around the fence. It was still quite hot, even though the sun was dipping close to the horizon. Sam’s T-shirt, wet with sweat, clung to his skin. He’d ditched the wrist brace a few days earlier, and his arms looked strong and muscular. From beneath the cap that shaded his face from the late afternoon sun, his hair hung damply around his face, and there was a streak of dirt on one cheek.

Serena felt her mouth go dry.

Seeing her watching him, he turned off the noisy machine. She felt a need to fill the sudden silence. “Hi.”

He wiped the back of one wrist across his forehead. “Hi. How was your day?”

“Long. The yard looks great. You worked hard.”

He shrugged. “Marjorie said she wasn’t happy with the lawn service she hired last time, so I told her I’d take care of it until she found someone else.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“We’ve had this conversation before.” He hefted the weed trimmer over his shoulder. “I’ll put this back in the garage.”

Since it was obvious there was no need to try again to convince him that he didn’t have to repay every debt immediately—and obvious that he had recovered amazingly well from the injuries he’d sustained only two weeks earlier—she changed the subject as she followed him into the garage. They hadn’t had much chance to talk during the past few days. She’d been extremely busy with her law practice and the newspaper business—or at least that’s what she’d told herself while she avoided him long enough to recover from a brief kiss that had nearly knocked her for a loop. “That’s the cap Dan gave you when you went fishing Sunday, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. He insisted I keep it.”