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them.
    â€œHere,” he called out to Aidan, holding out an arm for Kenzie.
    â€œI’ve got her,” Aidan said.
    But Kenzie had had enough, of Aidan and his capable, strong arms, of his scent and especially of the memories. So she reached out for the second firefighter, going into his arms without looking back, arms that had never held her before, arms that didn’t know her, arms that didn’t evoke the past.
    Even though she wanted to, she wouldn’t look back.

3
    B Y THE TIME A IDAN HAULED himself out of the water, Ty had handed Kenzie off to the EMTs. Dustin and Brooke took her away from the flames and straight to their ambulance.
    Good.
    Chilled, drenched to the skin, Aidan made his way through the organized mayhem to his rig, where he stripped down and pulled on dry gear, the questions coming hard and fast in his head.
    What the hell had Kenzie been doing there? Odd timing, given that in all these years, she’d not shown up in Santa Rey, not once. At least that he was aware of. Blake had never mentioned any visits, but then again, why would he? He’d had no idea that Aidan had dated his baby sister, and then walked away rather than engage his heart. They’d never told him, knowing he wouldn’t have liked it.
    Nope, Kenzie hadn’t been back, not even for Blake’s memorial service, and yet suddenly here she was, on Blake’s boat, a boat that just happened to blow sky high once she’d set foot on it.
    Odd coincidence.
    During the time the two of them had been in the water together, the sky had lightened. Dawn had arrived. The chief had put an explosives team in place, and had a plan to contain the fire. Aidan needed to get back into the thick of it, but first he had to see Kenzie and make sure for himself that she was okay. She’d had a head laceration and multiple cuts and wounds, and that had been before he’d tossed her into the water.
    He looked through the horde of people working the flames—Eddie and Sam, Aaron, Ty and Cristina, plus the guys from Thirty-Three, all on hoses and past the explosives experts surveying the still burning shell of Blake’s Girl to where the ambulance was parked.
    Kenzie was seated at the back of the opened rig between Dustin and Brooke. She was dripping everywhere, her clothes revealing what he already knew, that she was petite and in possession of a set of mouthwatering curves that had gotten only more mouthwatering in the past few years. She wore layered tees, the top one pink, ribbed and long-sleeved, unbuttoned to her waist, the one beneath white with pink polka-dots, opened to just between her breasts, both soaked through and suctioned to her body enough to expose her bra, which was also pink, lace and quite sheer.
    He’d been a firefighter for years and he’d rescued countless victims, many female, some of whom had been as wet as Kenzie, and never, not one single goddamn time, had he ever stopped in the middle of a job to notice their breasts.
    It was his first clue that he was in trouble, deep trouble—but when it came to Kenzie, that was nothing new. He chose to ignore his observation for now, for as long as he possibly could. His gaze dropped past her shirt with shocking difficulty, to a pair of button-fly jeans low on her hips, also dangerous territory because he’d always loved her legs, especially how bendy they could get….
    Don’t go there.
    She shoved her hair out of her face, which still looked far too pale, even a little green, although that didn’t take away from her beauty. Once upon a time she’d been a gorgeous study of sexy, frou-frou feminine mystery to him.
    Some things never changed.
    As if she felt his gaze, she looked up, and from fifty feet, between which were other firefighters, equipment and general chaos, she found him.
    Between them the air seemed to snap, crackle, pop.
    Six years ago, the thought of a long-distance relationship had been as alien to him as a