Fire...it had claimed the Creole Courtyard guest house, and all that Tory Clayton had to show for herself. What she gained was the pesky presence of an undeniably attractive arson investigator. Why wouldn't the rogue realize the only fraud was in his ceaseless sweet-talking!

Burned...Slade Marshall had been there once before, and to call him twice-shy was putting it mildly. Tory might pull at his singed heartstrings, but when things got too hot, Slade knew he'd be the first out of the kitchen. Wouldn't he?

Heat...it was inescapable throughout the sultry New Orleans summer. And Tory and Slade's best efforts to resist seemed only to fan the flame...