Hot to Touch. Kimberly Kaye Terry

come and say it, she thought, ignoring the sizzle of heat searing a hole straight through her back.

      “Have you had a chance to go over and meet Ms. Rawlings yet?”

      Shane turned as the base manager approached, dragging his attention away from the reporter.

      “Ms. Rawlings?” he asked, raising a brow. His commander’s dark face flushed in acknowledgment of the emphasis.

      “Listen, Shane, if I told you she was a woman, you never would have agreed to it.”

      “Damn straight.”

      There was a short pause, both men eyeing each other, neither one giving an inch. Finally, Roebuck sighed.

      “Give her a chance. I’ve known her editor for years.

      We go way back. If he says she can do the job, she can. We need the good press that’ll come from her being here and the potential donations from the public. I don’t have to tell you how tough the economy is. And the state budget is tight. This could get us the cash flow we need for new equipment. So please, play nice.”

      Shane was ready to fire off a retort, just as the woman approached them. He clamped his mouth shut, folded his arms across his chest and waited until she stood in front of them. Giving Shane only a quick, cursory glance, her eyes darted away and she turned her attention to Roebuck.

      Up close, her small, heart-shaped face was dominated by a pair of large, dark brown eyes, surrounded by long, full lashes. As she’d scaled down the rope, he’d noted how long her shapely legs were, but he had misjudged her height. Up close, the top of her dark brown head barely reached him at chest level.

      Both her height and pretty face gave the appearance of a fragile doll. Still, although petite, her legs were long, shapely, and toned, as was the rest of her body, belying the notion that there was anything fragile about Emogene Rawlings.

      Several strands of hair had escaped from her haphazard ponytail, and Shane felt a sudden and unwanted need to finger the dark tendrils and see if her hair were as soft as it looked.

      “That was damn impressive!” Roebuck said to her, pulling Shane out of his observations.

      “Thanks, sir. I can’t believe how much fun it was!”

      “It’s hardly fun and games,” Shane said. “This is training—training the men go through on a daily basis to prepare them for whatever hazardous mission they may face on any given day. Call it what you will, but it’s hardly fun and games.”

      Roebuck turned to Shane, heartily smacking him on the back. “Of course it isn’t, Shane. And I think Ms. Rawlings will fit right in, no problem at all!” If the commander’s hearty enthusiasm sounded a bit forced, no one called him on it. “And for the next four weeks, Emma will follow you, learn what it takes to be a jumper, interview the men and—”

      “Now wait a minute, boss. What do you mean she’ll be following me? I never agreed to that!”

      There was a long, strained silence. “Shane, Emma…why don’t we go to my office and discuss the particulars?” Roebuck turned on his heels, walking stiffly toward the exit.

      Emma glanced around self-consciously, noticing they were the center of attention. With a tight smile aimed at the staring group of jumpers, she went to follow Roebuck out of the gym. From her peripheral vision she saw Shane hesitate, as though he had no intention of meekly following along.

      She released a breath of relief when she saw him reluctantly follow them. So this was the jumper she was supposed to shadow. A sinking feeling settled in her gut.

      Well, damn.

      Chapter Three

      “Sir, no disrespect intended, but I don’t really give a damn what ‘good press’ she’ll bring to the station. I just want her out of here. The sooner the better. And she sure as hell is not trailing me around. I have enough to worry about without playing babysitter to some damn reporter!”

      Shane tried to keep his anger at a slow boil. He respected his base manager and didn’t want to go off half-cocked and say something he’d regret later.

      Although Roebuck was in his early forties, his craggy features made him look older, deep lines scoring the sides of his full mouth, due to the hard life he’d led. He’d come to the smoke jumpers after serving several years in the military as a paratrooper, most of his service done during several deployments overseas. Despite all of that, Shane had rarely seen Roebuck blow his stack. Even when one of the younger jumpers screwed up, the captain always kept his cool and always treated everyone fairly, equally, from the newest jumper to the seasoned vets.

      It was one of the many traits Shane admired about his commander, and one of the many reasons he willingly followed the man’s lead, trusting his judgment, something crucial in their line of work.

      But not this time.

      He turned away, walking over to face the large bay window, not really seeing the view of the mountains and the hill country below.

      “Shane.”

      When he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, he turned his head.

      “Be reasonable. It’s a done deal. Nothing you can do about it. I’ve already given her permission.” Roebuck sighed. “Look, I know where this is coming from. But you can’t let one incident make you like this. It was an accident, no one—”

      “She’s not ‘shadowing’ me. Period,” Shane interrupted, not wanting to hear what his commander would say next, fighting against memories of a time he tried his hardest to ignore.

      “And I would think you of all people would understand why,” he finished, grimly.

      Emma paused, her fist poised to knock on the door, when the voices inside grew louder.

      After leaving the gym on their way to the office, her cell phone rang, a call from her editor.

      Although she could have allowed it to go to voice mail, she used the call as an excuse to get away. She needed a chance to pull herself together and rally her defenses against what she knew was a battle she faced with Shane.

      Although she’d taken the call, she’d spoken less than five minutes with Bill before ending the conversation with a promise to call him back.

       The anger of the prudent never shows.

      She’d learned the value of the wise old adage long ago, while on her first assignment in a small village in Burma. She’d incorporated the saying as much as she could into her everyday life, although at times it wasn’t so easy to do.

      She took a deep breath, slowly exhaling. No matter what happened, she wasn’t going to allow him to bait her into saying something she would regret later. He wouldn’t make her say something stupid and shoot herself in the foot before she even got it in the door.

      When she could no longer clearly hear the angry staccato of words, she strained her ears to pick up on the conversation, stepping closer to the door.

      After several minutes of silence, Emma mentally and physically squared her shoulders and knocked briskly on the door.

      So, tall, blond and fine didn’t want her around his precious jumpers? Oh well. She had every right to be there. She hadn’t been given any special favors, she’d worked hard to get the assignment and no one was going to take this golden opportunity away from her.

      There was a slight pause before she heard Roebuck’s deep baritone calling out for her to enter. Cautiously, she opened the door, plastering a bright smile on her face.

      Like a magnet, her eyes were drawn to the jumper as he stood near a large window, his long legs braced far apart, big arms crossed over his chest, his back to her.

      Roebuck motioned her to come inside. “Come on in, Emma. We were just discussing your assignment.”

      Emma