The Eleventh Hour

She laid her hands against his chest. “Maybe we still have some physical chemistry, but—”

He pressed his hips against hers, trapping her against the brick building. “You’re really beautiful. Have I told you that?”

“Earlier, I seem to recall—”

He kissed her jaw, just below her ear, where—at least in the past—he’d made her shiver and moan. “I think we should pick up where we left off…”

She sighed, leaning her head to the side, giving him better access.

He’d forgotten how silky and delicious her skin was. As he cupped the back of her head, he closed his eyes, inhaling the fruity scent clinging to her that was somehow sweet and exotic.

Suddenly, she pushed him back. “Where we left off, huh? We left off at a big fight, where you told me you had adventures and challenges to tackle and had no plans to give up your certain-death job.”

“I’ve changed my mind about that, you know.” He pulled her into his arms, nuzzling her neck.

“It doesn’t look that way to me.”

He dragged his lips across her cheek. “Give me a chance to show you.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“But you will.” Sensing her will weakening, he captured her mouth with his own, sighing into the warmth and curves of her body. He slid his tongue past her lips, hungering for more of her, desperate for her response.

And, not sure how telling that revelation was, he angled his head, seeking to draw more from her, to absorb her need with his own.

Heat from her body infused his. Desire crashed over him as if it had only been lying dormant over the years, just waiting to pounce and grab him by the throat.

With just the edge of the floodlights illuminating them, Laine’s body was part flesh, part shadow. Crushed against his chest, her nipples hardened, and he envisioned her lying back, her arms outstretched, him on top of her, yanking her clothes from her body.

She tasted familiar, but seemed different. She met his hunger with confidence, not shying away an inch from his intense desire. He took his time relearning her lips, the best angle for their heads, the curve at the small of her back, the swell of her backside.

A piercing whistle broke through the quiet of the night.

Then he heard Cara’s voice. “I’ve cooled my heels long enough, Steve. Get your ass back in here.”

Laine froze. “What have I—” Smoothing her hair back into place and clutching her camera bag to her side, she ducked beneath his arm. “I have to go.”

Steve’s chest was still heaving, his body still throbbing.

It’s the pursuit. It has to be the pursuit.

Laine was the only woman within three blocks who hadn’t come on to him. That’s the only reason he wanted her so much. Pretty stupid. And childish.

He had work to do here. He needed to put all his effort and concentration in jumping out of planes, rappelling from helicopters and plunging headlong into flames and smoke every day. He didn’t have time to be distracted by women, especially Laine.

But he still wanted her so much. The sense that he’d screwed up big by letting her go seven years ago washed over him, stronger than ever.

Her face flushed, and waggling her fingers, she scooted back. “See you around, Steve.”

“Count on it,” he muttered as he watched her walk away.

HER STOMACH IN KNOTS, Laine climbed into the helicopter’s passenger seat.

Remember, this is your job…

With his aviator sunglasses in place, the pilot gave her a reassuring smile. She hoped she didn’t throw up on his shoes.

A forestry official gave her a headset and strapped her in, then he closed the door. Laine shut her eyes as the helicopter began to lift from the ground.

Are you crazy? You’re a photographer, not Lara Croft.

She’d reluctantly been up in helicopters before, photographing the grounds at the Biltmore Estate and the progress of the Rose Bowl Parade. Once she got over the initial takeoff, she’d always been able to manage her fear if she focused on the view through her lens.

She liked the solitude and silence of photography. She liked the ability to change what she saw and how she saw it. She liked capturing moments in time, reflecting on them hours, days and years later.

She gripped the sides of her seat to steady her rolling stomach as the chopper banked.

“I have a one-hundred-percent success rate,” said a disembodied voice through her headset.

She glanced over at the pilot and gave him a weak thumbs-up. She tried not to focus on the height, the noise of the whirring blades, the fact that she was thousands of feet in the air and supported by a bit of glass and metal and a five-point safety harness.

And after taking a deep breath, she managed to look out the windshield.

They were high over the forest and mountains now, turning trees into twigs and cars into model toys.

The scorched blackness of much of the area made her throat tighten. From the research she’d done on wildfires, she knew smaller ones that didn’t threaten civilization were allowed a controlled burn. This cleansing of the land was actually good for the environment and encouraged new growth.

But destruction of this magnitude was disastrous. The fire was now ripping through a stretch of land where a developer had built a collection of cabins he rented out to companies for management retreats. Small, “hot spot” fires sparked by the larger blaze were popping up all over the area. Wildlife homes were reduced to ashes. A small park and series of hiking trails that were owned and managed by the forestry service had been destroyed.

And Fairfax was next on the list.

Spurred by that threat, she pulled out her digital camera, with its high-powered zoom lens, to record the scene. As the pilot swung as low as was safe over the blaze, she realized the fire was beautiful, in its way. The colors, the power and the heat were mesmerizing, as well as deadly.

The pilot set them down once near a small hot spot, where Laine was able to get out and take some close-ups of the crew.

She forgot about her own fears as she watched them dig trenches and clear trees and brush to rob the fire of fuel, then aid that effort with extinguishing chemicals. They sweated and strained. Through her fireproof jumpsuit and without the heavy supply pack most of the crew carried, Laine could hardly stay coherent in the heat. Still, she had to stifle the urge to grab a shovel and help.

They were an amazing breed, these men and women who challenged a force of nature that only God himself could really battle and win. It was an alliance Steve was an integral part of, and one she didn’t think she’d ever fully understand.