The Eleventh Hour. Wendy Etherington

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.

      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