Hot to Touch

“And?” she asked when he paused again.

“And…about two years ago he lent his help to jump a fire in Alaska. There was a lot of talk surrounding the fires that he and several of his men helped to fight. Rumblings about negligence on the part of senior personnel, to jumpers ignoring direct orders from the general manager. One jumper died and one was pretty badly injured. As far as I can remember there was a lot of talk about a female jumper in particular. Someone blamed her for one of Roebuck’s jumpers’ death.”

“What was the name of the jumper who survived? The male jumper?” she asked, although she already knew the answer before Bill opened his mouth.

“Westend…Westwood. Shane Westwood, if I recall correctly. Why?”

Emma was silent. The feeling in her gut worsened. “And the woman, who was she?”

“Can’t remember her name offhand. After the dust settled, last I knew she was transferred to another station.”

Emma’s instincts screamed at her that Shane was the cause for the female jumper leaving.

“Don’t tell me…this is the guy who you’re shadowing?’

“Yeah. And he wants nothing to do with women,” she said. “Well, at least not on his turf. And if he has his way, I’m on the next flight out of Lander.” Emma blew out a tired breath. “Maybe this assignment wasn’t the best one for me.”

She felt an overwhelming sense of defeat, a desire to just say, “Whatever” and let it go. She was so tired of fighting. Tired of having to prove herself over and over.

“Since when did you let the way others feel affect you going after a story?” Bill asked gruffly, after a long bout of silence. “Look, you’re one of the best photojournalists in the business.”

“It’s not that. I know I’m good,” she said and laughed. “I don’t mean it like that.”

“Well, you should,” he replied firmly.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do, and you are. Not a damn thing wrong with being sure of your abilities. You’ve been on back-to-back assignments for the last six months. Maybe you need to relax, take some time off—”

“No, I can handle it,” she interrupted. “I just need to unwind, take a long bath and hit the sack…get my mojo back,” she tried to lighten the mood, laughing lightly. She knew she hadn’t fooled her editor one bit—the man knew her too well—but thankfully he let it go.

When she disconnected the phone she pushed away from the headboard, a thoughtful look settling over her face, contemplating the information Bill had given her. Another piece to the ever-growing puzzle that was Shane Westwood.

Chapter Six

Emma was awake before her alarm could go off, feeling refreshed and ready to take on whatever challenges Shane Westwood could dish out.

The jumpers’ days started early. Immediately after breakfast, everyone gathered in the ready room where the day’s agenda was set in a general meeting with the hub’s crew. Although the job of conducting the morning meetings was the senior jumper’s, Roebuck had conducted them over the last two days as Shane had been away.

Emma donned the black sweats that had become her uniform and then sat down on the bed to pull on socks and her Nikes. Neat by habit, she quickly made the bed and walked across the room to the small refrigerator in the corner.

Not normally a breakfast person, Emma was happy to find that the room came equipped with a refrigerator, which she’d stocked her first day at the station with all of her favorites from a nearby convenience store: milk, juice, assorted muffins, diet soda and Captain Crunch. She didn’t know what the day held in store, so she decided to forgo the bowl of cereal and diet soda in favor of a small carton of juice and one of the bran muffins instead.

Twenty minutes later, she was opening the door to the ready room, the raucous sound of the men inside reaching her ears before she stepped in.

Her gaze swept the room until they connected with the one man who she hadn’t been able to get out of her mind over the last forty-eight hours.

“Let’s go. Roll call!” Shane called out in a booming voice, his voice drowning out the din of chatter as he faced the waiting, assembled men. The room quieted within seconds.

“For those of you who didn’t know, I’m back. It’s good to see you all again. The commander briefed me on what happened during my absence. I heard a lot of great things—I’m proud of the job B crew did in assisting the Montana jumpers during a cleanup job…great job, guys!” he began.

“For those of you joining us after hiatus, welcome back. Hope you had a restful time off while the rest of us worked our asses off,” he said, and they all guffawed good-naturedly, slapping several of the ones who’d had time off on the back.

He then turned to a small group of rookies who stood to his left in formation. “And I haven’t had the thrill of meeting you all yet. Don’t worry, that will soon be rectified. We’ll be getting to know each other very well over the next six weeks,” he said, and several of the older jumpers openly scoffed.

“Now, let’s hit the agenda. There’s a new mandatory class on preventing fires, which is basic, I know.” He held up a hand when several groaned. “But it’s mandatory, so no complaining about it. Also, there’s a weapons-certification class for those who plan to or want to continue to carry guns. Remember, nothing smaller than a .357 magnum. Don’t beat your chest and go caveman on me, it’s not a field trip. It’s mandatory games policy. C crew, that means you guys. Last time I checked, most of you were due for recertification. Don’t shoot the bears unless they’re coming to eat you,” he yelled out to the men who began to file out.

One of the squad leaders jumped onto the raised platform, joining him, and yelled out, “All rookies—outside. NOW! Don’t know why y’all are here any damn way! Roll call is for smoke jumpers, not freakin’ wannabes!” His booming voice echoed throughout the room, as loud and intimidating as any army drill sergeant’s. The rookies wasted no time. Within minutes they fled from of the room.

Shane was in the process of speaking with one of the squad leaders when a prickling sensation crept across the back of his neck, coiled around his body and pooled in his gut.

Emma Rawlings had entered the ready room.

Shane turned, his gaze sweeping over the heads of the room and the fleeing bodies of the rookies before connecting with hers.

With only a slight pause, he continued the briefing. When asked a question, he reluctantly broke contact and answered. When he turned back around, one of the jumpers had come to stand beside her.

His eyes narrowed when he saw her withdraw a pad from the oversize bag she wore, busy scribbling notes. She placed the notebook back inside and then withdrew an expensive-looking camera, brought the lens to her eye and snapped off a shot of the jumper she was speaking to before aiming her lens toward the men gathered around her.

When a few of the guys turned toward her, and actually smiled for the camera, Shane knew he had to turn away or he was liable to go over and snatch it from her hand to further prevent his men from embarrassing themselves with their shameless display of eagerness.

“Each group has their general assignments for the day. Before heading out, check the board for further assignments. Any more announcements?” he asked, turning to the squad leaders. When none answered, he continued. “Roll call!” and proceeded to fire off the list of names to answering variations of “Yo,” “Yep,” and “Huah!” until everyone had been accounted for.

When several stopped on the way out the door to stand and talk to Emma, he barked, “I’ll meet with C team in the cargo area in ten. Ms. Rawlings, I need to speak with you.”

When the last man left, Emma had no choice but to face him, watching him approach warily while reminding herself that anything he could dish out, she could take.

When he stood less than two feet away from her he crossed his arms over his big chest. The stance, like the scowl on his face whenever he was around her, was becoming irritatingly familiar.

“Looks like you’ve met all the men.”

The way he said it made it seem as though she had stripped down and given each man a lap dance instead of the simple interview she’d conducted. She gave him a tight-lipped smile, refusing to let him see how badly he was getting to her.

“When the men are being briefed, I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t distract them,” he continued and stepped closer.

Emma took an involuntary step away. Her glance slid over his sensual mouth, one side hitched lightly in a mimicry of a smile as he stood there, looming over her.

She stood still. Like a doe caught in headlights, she felt hemmed in. The air around them grew thick, moist—dewy with an underlying tension she couldn’t break away from. She refused to back up even when he stepped so close she could smell the heated, musky scent of his aftershave mixed with his natural male essence.

She blew out a breath, slowly, her lips partially opening, her tongue snaking out to lick the lower rim. When his gaze followed the action of her tongue, Emma’s heartbeat began to thump frantically against her chest, her palms grew moist, her body hot.

Emma raised her chin, resisting the urgent desire to flee. “They seem like big boys. They can handle it, I’m sure.”

He raised a hand and brought one finger down the line of her jaw. She stared up at him, controlling the crazy desire to turn into his caress.

“Didn’t your mama ever tell you that playing with fire is a sure fire way to get burned, Ms. Rawlings?”

With their gazes locked, his bright-eyed gaze roamed over her face, over her mouth and down her throat before meeting hers. Emma felt as though it were his hands running over her, her body responding against her understanding or will.

The ends of his nostrils flared, his mouth following the path of her tongue as it again wet her lips.

“I’m working with the men this morning. I’m afraid you’ll have to find someone else to entertain you, Ms. Rawlings.”

When he walked away, she expelled the breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding.

God, what in the world had just happened, she wondered, her body slumping back against the wall.

Unconsciously running her fingers over the part of her face he’d touched, she watched him stride from the room.

Chapter Seven

“I’m training the rookies this morning. Meet me in the classroom in fifteen minutes.”

Emma spun around upon hearing Shane’s voice behind her, trying not to allow her surprise to show. She assumed that after their exchange two days ago she’d be left to her own devices, and this idea had proven correct over the last couple of days. She hadn’t been idle during that period, had instead used the time to interview and photograph the jumpers as they trained, pleasantly surprised when the majority seemed eager to speak in their down time.

She’d only caught occasional glimpses of Shane, usually by accident. And nine times out of ten, Shane was out the door within minutes whenever she showed up. Maybe Roebuck had spoken with him, or maybe he’d had a sudden change of heart regarding her. Whatever the reason, Emma wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. With a nod, she quickly made her way to her room and grabbed her gear, just in case. She was back in the classroom before the allotted fifteen minutes was up.

When she showed up to find she was the only one there, none of the rookies around, she felt a keen sense of disappointment. The disappointment led to outrage when one of the squad leaders strode into the room and informed her that she’d be watching a series of films about the history and lives of smoke jumpers, followed by a training film on the various ways a parachute could kill a person.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she murmured, her mouth thinning into a long, angry line as he set up the film.

“Oh, and uh, Shane said to leave you with this.” He handed her a small, hot bag full of popcorn.

When he caught the look in her eyes, he quickly turned and left, but not before Emma saw the smirk lurking in the squad leader’s eyes. Tempted to throw the bag of popcorn at his retreating back, she instead plopped down in a nearby chair.

“The least he could have done was leave me some extra butter to go with it,” she mumbled moodily.

“Fighting fires of any type is a tough, dirty job. Only the brave need apply…”

As the narrator of the black-and-white film spoke, she sighed, settling back in the chair and reaching into the bag of popcorn.

In the ready room, after the marathon of dusty old archived films she’d been forced to sit through, Emma finally had enough and left, seeking out one of the squad leaders…and avoiding Shane.

She hadn’t known what in the world the man would throw at her next. Still, for every roadblock he threw in her path, Emma had maneuvered around it, pleased with the progress she’d begun to make on her article.

Initially she’d been relieved for the reprieve, but as the days grew, her irritation grew as well. She needed his input as second in command. She was supposed to be trailing him, after all. She didn’t need his approval, and his insights were what she needed to make her article shine.

And although she’d managed to do her job without his interference over the last two days, she decided then that it was time to flip the script.

After her afternoon interview with Roebuck, again left to her own devices, she’d gone into the gym, only to see Shane along with his team, working out. She turned to beat a hasty retreat when he caught sight of her and invited her to go against one of the senior jumpers in scaling down the wall.

“Ms. Rawlings.” He stopped her before she could take more than a few steps.

Reluctantly, Emma turned back around to face him.

“You seem to know your way around a wall,” he began, and several of the men chuckled. Emma lifted her chin, raised a brow and waited for him to continue.

“Rick here is one of the best. Care to match your…skills…against his?”

The man he nodded his head toward was built like a truck. Although equal to Shane in height, this man looked as though he belonged on a football field battering through an angry defensive line, instead of jumping out of planes.

“You beat him, you have free rein of the station.” He threw out the challenge. “Nothing is off limits.”

“No one as well?” She saw the hesitation in his eyes and waited.

Finally, he nodded. “Nothing.” He paused. “And no one. But if you lose, you lose your article as well.”

The stakes were high, but without Shane Emma realized she didn’t have a complete article anyway. She dropped her pad and took her place at the top of the wall and then glanced over at her competitor and bit her lower lip.

There was no way she could she beat this man, she thought, inwardly groaning, but she put on a confident smile nonetheless.

She grabbed the rope, and seconds before Shane blew the whistle she slid a glance his way. She hid her surprise when he gave her a very deliberate wink and side grin before quickly turning away.

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