The Eleventh Hour

“None of them seem to hold his interest for more than a couple of months, though.”

Laine nodded. “Been there.”

“No kidding? You and Steve?”

“Yep. About seven years ago. For a couple of months during the summer.”

Cara shook her head. “The story of his life.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Steve said, sounding annoyed.

Without looking at him, Laine patted his hand. “And we’re glad to have you.”

“Why do you think he never hangs around very long?” she asked Cara.

“You know men. They can never turn down a buffet.” She glanced at Steve. “Not that it’s any of my business.”

“Oh, right. Not mine either.” She slid off her stool and scooped her camera bag off the floor. Though she’d gotten caught up in her rapport with Cara, she didn’t have any interest in or right to Steve’s personal life. “I’d like to take some pictures of you both in action this week, if you don’t mind.”

“Laine is a photographer for Century magazine,” Steve said to Cara as he rose.

“I’d rather not have most of what I’m doing recorded,” Cara said, scowling. “Except by me. Sorry.”

Laine liked the idea of a female arson investigator in the middle of the disaster. And she thought Cara’s intense personality would come across dramatically in the pictures. “I’ll let you see any photos I’m considering for publication. You’ll have the opportunity to sign—or not sign—a release.”

“I’ll consider it,” Cara said.

“Great.” She looked up at Steve, ignoring the warmth flooding her body. “I’d like to shoot you and Josh and the others, too. When’s your next day on-site?”

“The day after tomorrow—Tuesday.”

Laine shook Steve’s hand. “I’ll see you then, I guess.”

3

STEVE RESISTED THE URGE to pound his head against the bar. Handshakes? I’ll see you then, I guess?

Could he be losing his touch?

As Laine strode away, Steve held up his finger and said to Cara, “I’ll be right back.”

He caught up with Laine just outside the bar. Had he said something to himself about liking the challenge she presented? He must have gone temporarily insane.

Yes, he had. Insane with need for Laine.

The memory of her. The reality of her. The reminder of the man he’d once been. Strong. Brave. Fearless.

“How about dinner tomorrow?” he asked again when she looked up at him as if wondering why he was following her down the sidewalk.

“No.”

“I’m not a smoke jumper anymore.”

“Really?” She stopped and crossed her arms over her chest. “And how did you get to the site of that ridge fire two days ago? Stroll leisurely into the forest with Bambi and the rest of the gentle woodland creatures?”

She had a point there. “Okay, so I’m temporarily a smoke jumper. But only until this fire is out.”

“Then you go back to Georgia, and I go back to Texas.”

He slid his thumb along her jawline. “But while we’re here…”

“I’ll be working. You’ll be working.”

“Not all the time.”

She stepped back, away from his touch. A light of determination appeared in her eyes that he’d never seen before—at least not until the day she’d dumped him. “I’m not doing this again, Steve. Smoke jumper or not, nothing has changed.”

“We were great together before. What’s wrong with trying to find that again?”

“You asked me to move in with you while you were in the hospital recovering from smoke inhalation.”

When he’d been selfish and caught up in the adventure of his job, she’d been there, staring at him with her big brown eyes, offering her quiet devotion. Now, when he realized that he’d lost—her gentleness, her ability to be quiet and still, and not always running from one adventure to another, she wanted nothing to do with him. “Not exactly my best timing.”

“You’ve got my agreement there. I also recall a fire down South. You were supposed to meet me for dinner and showed up three hours late. And for two of those hours, I couldn’t find anyone who could tell me whether you were dead or alive.”

Steve winced. “I know. Josh—”

“Dragged you off to a celebratory drink at a local bar. I remember.”

He dragged his hand through his hair. “This isn’t going at all like I planned.”

“I imagine not. But you’re still a firefighter, and I’ve learned from my mistakes.”

Was that what their relationship had been? A mistake? Is that how she remembered him?

The idea rankled his pride, and landed a powerful blow on the wonderful past with her that he cherished. And while he couldn’t deny that he didn’t want to go back to smoke jumping, and this trip to California brought up bad memories of wildfires, he’d kicked down many doors of burning houses and buildings in his life. He couldn’t see that ever changing.

“You have a line of women who want you,” she continued. “You don’t want me.”

“I do.”

“Maybe you just want the memory of me. I’m not the same quiet girl I was seven years ago.”

He clenched his fists by his sides. “No, that’s not it. We’re not just a memory.”

Or a mistake.

He tugged her hand, pulling her down the sidewalk and around the corner of the building. Wide-eyed, she stared at him as if she understood something inside him had just shifted. When he moved closer to her, she backed up. “And knowing all that, you still want me,” he said.