Читать книгу The Eleventh Hour - Wendy Etherington - Страница 13

SETTLED INTO A BOOTH and surrounded by Josh and Cole and the lovely ladies they’d invited, Steve glanced around the bar. He saw several colleagues, a few people he vaguely recalled from either his residency seven years ago or the recent work on the fires, plus a stranger or two.

Certainly no Laine Sheehan.

He wished he wasn’t so disappointed. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms. It’s not as though she’d be holding up a welcome banner.

“So, did you put out the fire yet?” a buxom brunette sitting between Josh and Cole asked.

“No, silly,” her equally buxom blond companion said with a nudge. “Don’t you ever watch the news?”

“Not if I can help it…”

Steve let their voices fade into the background. Though he hesitated to admit it to himself, and certainly wouldn’t tell his friends, he was bored.

And he couldn’t explain why. Back home in Georgia he liked nothing better than to hang out with his buddies from the firehouse. If a woman or two wandered across his path, all the better.

Why was he restless? Why could he only manage a smile at Cole’s raunchy joke?

Simple. He couldn’t get Laine out of his mind.

“You all right?” Cole asked.

“Fine.” He sipped his beer. “It’s just been a helluva few days.”

“Tell me about it. This is a wild one.”

“You ever feel like you’re just barely hangin’ on?”

“All the time.” Cole reached for a handful of beer nuts. “It’s good to have you back, though. Tommy would have loved it.”

“Yeah. It’s not the same without him.” And Steve wondered if the knot in his stomach would ever loosen. “You think we can beat this thing?”

“Hell yeah. And it’ll sure be fun trying.”

Steve forced himself to smile, knowing the facade of enthusiasm he had to keep up. “Sure will.”

Josh pushed the pitcher of beer their way. “Thank God the workday’s done.”

Cole refilled their mugs. “And the night’s young.”

Steve clanged his mug against the others’, caught the gaze of the brunette who didn’t watch the news, then looked away. Hanging with his old buddies again helped him accept Tommy’s death, and even made him recall his exhilarating days as a smoke jumper without panicking. But part of him also realized he’d moved on. Running, but still on to something new.

As he sipped his beer, he caught a glimpse of a blonde at the far end of the bar, a black camera bag resting by her feet. “Laine?” he said aloud, though nobody likely heard him over the toasts.

He rose. “I’ll be back,” he said absently to Cole, leaving his beer on the table and keeping his gaze locked on the familiar woman across the room.

She looked nearly the same. Lovely. Delicate, but strong. Wearing jeans, a crewneck white shirt and navy blazer, she didn’t seem ordinary in the ordinary clothes. Instead of the ponytail he remembered, her hair fell to her shoulders and curved softly around her face. Her lips, which he always remembered her biting, were full and glossy pink.

He stopped next to her and felt a familiar desire slide into his stomach. “Hi, Laine.”

“Hi, Steve,” she said, her brown-eyed gaze meeting his dead on.

This close, something about her, the look in her eyes, or the strength of her posture, made her seem bolder, more confident. Though he’d been crazy about shy and sweet Laine, he found himself drawn to the change.

Oh, yeah, rekindling the heat between him and Laine could be just the thing to jolt him out of his depression and distract him from the duty he dreaded.

He loomed over her and liked the way her eyes widened at his proximity. “Can an old friend buy you a drink?”

“Sure.” Cool as a cucumber, she shrugged. “If you can fit me into your fan club. Maybe you should give everybody membership numbers. You know, to keep things fair.”

The old tension returned as though seven minutes had passed rather than seven years. He couldn’t help it if people felt comfortable approaching him. He was a firefighter and well known in Fairfax. His height communicated confidence. Hell, people liked him. Was that a crime?

“I don’t have a fan club,” he said.

She winked. “Right.”

He realized she was teasing. Of course she wouldn’t still be carrying around seven-year-old jealousy. “Hey, we’ve been in the woods for two days.”

“So I hear.” She patted the empty stool next to her, her smile dispelling the gloom that had settled over him that afternoon. “Have a seat.”

Steve swallowed. Why does she make me so weak?

He stepped toward her, stopping just short of his chest brushing her back as he settled onto the stool. A spicy, fruity scent washed over him, and his body hardened.

“You look really beautiful.” In fact, he had to curl his hands into fists to keep from stroking her shoulder.

“Thanks.” She grinned. “So do you.”

Ridiculously, he felt his face heat. “Thanks. Josh told me you’re covering the fire for some major magazine.”

“Yeah. I signed on with Century.”

He whistled. “I’m honored to think I was part of the test photos.”

“I do still have one of you in my portfolio.”

“No kidding?”

“Yeah. One of you, Josh and Tommy stumbling out of a plane after you’d just come off a two-day wildfire on the California–Oregon border.”

His heart lurched.

“I heard about Tommy,” she said quietly. “I’m so sorry. What happened?”

Oddly enough, despite her aversion to his job, it felt right sharing his pain with her. “The fire. A sudden wind.”

She closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, tears clung to her lashes. Her compassion reminded him why he’d fallen so hard. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t want to face his grief for Tommy now. He’d been wallowing in it for a week. He slid his hand around her waist. “I’m better now.”

She leaned back and gave him a wry look. “And still smooth as ever.”

Smiling, he gripped her side. “Why am I thinking that’s not a compliment?”

“But it is. And especially convenient for the available ladies of Fairfax.”

“And do you include yourself in that group?”

“Definitely not.”

Damn. “You’re married?”

“No. Just not available.”

“To me?”

“To anybody.” She polished off the pink contents of her martini glass. “Another cosmo, please,” she said to the smiling young bartender who appeared before her.

Steve ordered a beer. “Since when do you drink cosmos?”

“I have for years.”

Something was definitely up with a cosmo-drinking, sassy-mouthed, unavailable Laine. It’s been seven years, man. People change. Look at you.

He was challenged by her lack of interest in him. Because he was still interested in her? Or because she’d once been so dedicated to him?

Either way, it was probably a good idea to back off. At least for the moment. “How’s Aunt Jen?”

“Stubborn as ever. She doesn’t want to leave her house.”

“She may not have to.”

“Chief Arnold seemed to think differently when I was at base camp yesterday. You really believe she won’t need to leave?”

“We’re supposed to be thinking positively on the front line, but no. Evacuations will happen.” He accepted his beer from the bartender; Laine did the same with her cosmo. “If we don’t get some rain soon, the town is right in the fire’s path.”

She held up her glass. “Then a toast to rain. To Tommy.” Pausing, she met his gaze. “And to the rest of you staying safe.”

He tapped his mug against her glass. “To Tommy.” He wasn’t toasting himself. The reluctance he felt at every jump, every trip into the ravaged forest, made a mockery of the other teams’ bravery.

She sipped her drink, then puckered her lips and set the glass aside.

“Too strong?”

“No, it’s…fine. So, how’ve you been?”

He drank his beer, figuring at least they’d agree on the changes he’d made in his life. “I gave up smoke jumping and moved back home to Georgia a few years ago.”

Laine nearly fell off her stool. “You—What?”

“I went home, joined a regular firehouse, started saving cats from trees. I even bought a house.”

She couldn’t grasp it. “What about parachuting from planes into fire-choked forests? What about rappelling from helicopters? What about Italy and Greece? You had hiking, biking, scuba diving and who knows what else planned.”

“The farthest I’ve been from home in the last four years is Atlanta.”

Bad boy Steve had reformed? Settled down? Good grief.

“Did you get married?” she asked, still stunned enough to wonder what else she’d missed.

“No.”

“Have any kids?”

Leaning toward her, he grinned. “No. Are you volunteering?”

That brought back painful memories. When she’d been young and wide-eyed. When she’d thought she and Steve would get married someday, have a family together. Instead, he’d asked her to move in and made it clear he planned to be a smoke jumper until he was old and gray.

Going back there wouldn’t help, and she really didn’t want to go several rounds with him over the past. “But you are here working on the fires.”

“My old team called me when Tommy died. They asked me to fill in.”

He’d probably left home with skid marks. Settled down? No way. “And it’s great to be back.”

He drank his beer. “Oh, yeah.”

See, nothing had changed, her heart reminded her.

And even though her libido protested, she told herself that was a good thing. She didn’t want to want Steve. She had a job to do. A paycheck to maintain. An aunt to battle.

Still, she couldn’t deny how good it felt to sit next to him again. His wild, mischievous smile and confidence had thrown her for a loop from the beginning, but she’d soon learned there was much more beneath his beautiful face and body. He spoke three languages, had spent several years abroad, had a love of art and culture—and never passed up the opportunity to help little old ladies cross the street.

On top of her conflicting feelings, she was baffled by him flirting with her. Did he really want to pick up where they’d left off?

No way. Not a good idea. Her heart had taken too severe a beating the first time around.

“So you’re just back for the fire?”

“Yeah. My life is in Georgia now.”

“I thought your hometown was pretty small.”

“It is.”

“Not much action for an adventurous guy like yourself.”

“We get our share. Had a serial arsonist running loose last fall. That was pretty exciting.”

Action aplenty, even in rural Georgia. She’d been through wild, dangerous and adventurous with him before and hadn’t enjoyed the results. Now she needed those qualities in him for her assignment. How ironic was that?

“How about dinner tomorrow?” he asked suddenly, leaning close to her.

“Uh…no.”

“No?”

“Look, I’m sure we’ll run into each other over the next few days,” she said, leaning back. “And I’m sorry I kidded you with the fan-club crack earlier, but you have plenty of women lining up, so—”

“There’s no line.”

“Oh, they’ll come. Probably the ones at that table in the back that were glaring at me a few minutes ago.”

“Laine, nobody’s glaring at—”

“Hi, Steve.”

A curvy redhead stood next to him, her hand on her hip, her impressive chest thrown out.

Laine smirked at him before he turned to the other woman.

“Hi, Darla. Laine, do you know Darla?”

“No.” Laine waved and smiled. After all, her point had been made. “Hi.”

Darla smiled weakly in return, then focused on Steve. “Wasn’t dinner great the other night?”

“Yeah. Thanks for going to all that trouble. The guys on the team really appreciate the effort everyone in town has made for us.”

Steve’s neck had turned red. He looked uncomfortable at sharing a drink with one woman while talking to another.

Darla finally drifted away, and Steve turned back to her. “Sorry about that. She and some friends made dinner for our jump team a few nights ago and—”

“Hi, Steve.”

Laine bit her lip to keep from laughing.

This time the woman was a striking brunette with a sultry voice and, again, some impressive curves.

“Hi, Vivian. Do you know Laine?”

Vivian didn’t bother to do more than raise her eyebrows at Laine’s wave.

“We missed you Friday night,” she said to Steve.

“I was exhausted.”

Laine propped her chin on her fist and noticed a petite redhead waving at her from across the bar. Denise?

She had met fun, impulsive Denise the summer she’d lived in Fairfax. Her family lived next door to Aunt Jen. She and Denise had been together the night she’d met Steve in a Redding bar, had become great friends and stayed in touch ever since. Denise had come home to help her parents in case they needed to evacuate and, the night Laine arrived, caught her up on all the gossip over drinks.

She was the perfect escape from Steve.

“Excuse me,” Laine said. “I see somebody I need to speak to. Why don’t you two catch up.”

Steve stood, and Vivian’s eyes lit like sparklers. Clearly, she thought she’d scared Laine off.

As Laine’s feet hit the floor, Steve wrapped his hand around her wrist. “You’re coming back, right?”

Laine resisted the urge to fan herself at the intense, questioning look in his eyes. The man did know how to push her buttons. “I should go. I have to get up early…”

Steve scooped her camera bag off the floor and laid it on her empty stool. “I’ll just hang on to this till you get back.”

Holding her camera hostage? That was a new one. She really didn’t understand his insistence, especially with the likes of Vivian about, but she did want to talk to him about some shots of him and his jump team. Which she would do—briefly—before calling it a night.

“I’ll be back,” she said finally.

Vivian scowled. Steve smiled.

Crossing the bar, she stopped next to Denise, who hugged her tight. “I see the subject research is going well. Nobody else I’d rather see pictures of than Steve Kimball. Any chance of catching him naked?”

“No.”

Her eyes twinkled. “Please?”

Laine was having a hard time resisting the man’s charm when he was clothed. No way was she picturing him naked. “Definitely not. There’s nothing between us anymore.”

She frowned, her dark blue eyes narrowing. “Not even a spark?”

“Mmm…well, I wouldn’t say that. Did you know he’d moved?” She brought Denise up to date on Steve’s switch to hometown guy, who fought fires started by arsonists, rather than jumping from planes on a daily basis.

“All that danger and excitement sounds fun to me.”

“Not when you’re the one left at home wondering if you’ll ever see him again.”

“Good point.” She angled her head, her bright red curls brushing her cheek. “I hadn’t heard he left Fairfax, but then I’d left for graduate school, and I didn’t ask a lot of questions about him after you guys broke up.” She glanced across the bar at the man in question. “He certainly hasn’t lost his touch.”

Laine followed her friend’s stare and noted that Vivian was leaning close enough to the man to breast-feed him. A surprising pang of envy hit her.

“Vivian was always obvious,” Denise said, shaking her head. “In fact, at Honors Choir tryouts—”

“Let’s stay in this decade, please.”

“Yeah, sure. I still don’t see how you’re going to follow him around taking pictures and not be tempted.”

“I’ll manage. Why do you think he’s always surrounded?”

“He’s drop-dead gorgeous, Laine. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“I was just hoping it was me. He’s aged, after all.”

“He has?”

He had. And somehow looked even better. Men!

“He might be worth the risk—heartbreakwise,” Denise added. “I’d go for the direct approach. Invite him to your place, see where things go.”

“Invite him—” She shook her head. “I don’t think so. My place is Aunt Jen’s.”

“So go to his place.”

“The only place I’m going with him is professionally related.”

“Speaking of your job…how are you going to cover this fire and not actually, you know, be there?”

“Remember how I told you I’d hoped to convince my editor this was a human-interest piece?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s interested in humans all right. As long as a big, raging wildfire is in the background.”

“Yikes.”

Laine sighed. “Tell me about it.” Recording action on film was great, but participating wasn’t her strong point. Up until a few months ago, her biggest challenge had been figuring out the difference between a hybrid tea rose and a floribunda.

Now, no matter how terrified she was, she had to face the fire. Literally. How Steve did so on a daily basis—in the forest or in his hometown—she’d never understand. So, it was time to earn her precious paycheck, stop talking and start snapping. “I’m going to take some aerial shots in the morning.”

“If you say so…”

She rolled her shoulders. “Okay. I’m going.”

“Aerial shots now? It’s dark.”

“Not now. I’ve got to get my camera out of hock first.”

Her stomach fluttered like crazy, no matter how many times she told herself to calm down. Thanks to Denise, images of Steve in various states of nakedness kept dancing across her mind. Memories she’d long forgotten. Or so she thought.

Distracted, she didn’t notice a different woman stood by Steve until she was a few feet away. She had shoulder-length dark hair and striking turquoise eyes and a shoulder holster peaking from beneath her jacket. She looked extremely annoyed.

“Come on, lover boy,” she was saying to Steve. “We were supposed to meet an hour ago, and I don’t have much time.”

Laine cleared her throat and crossed her arms over her chest. These chicks are amazing. She glanced at Steve. “You need a better appointment calendar.”

“No, she’s not—She’s my sister-in-law.”

Laine widened her eyes.

Rising, Steve rubbed his temples. “Cara, would you please explain what you’re doing here?”

“We had a consult on the arson aspect of the wildfire,” she said in a clipped, no-nonsense tone Laine admired. “I’ve worked on several suspiciously started forest fires over the years, and my boss, the governor of Georgia, went to school with your commanding officer, so he sent me. I talked to the guys at the site when Steve didn’t show up. They said to try here.” Her gaze slid over Laine, as well as the half-finished drinks on the bar. “Where you don’t seem to be thinking about the fire. Sorry about that.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Steve said. “I forgot you came in yesterday. Laine, this is Cara Kimball. Cara, Laine Sheehan.”

Laine shook the other woman’s hand, finally realizing what her presence meant. “So, which brother did you marry?”

“Wes.”

Mmm. That made sense. Though she’d only met Wes once when he’d visited Steve, she remembered him being tough and temperamental. Not a man for a meek woman. “Congratulations,” she said to Cara.

“Cara is a captain in the arson division,” Steve put in. “She and Wes met during a case last fall.”

“So arson or careless campers with this wildfire?” Laine asked.

“Careless campers started it, but there’s a possibility arsonists are egging the blaze on,” Cara said.

Laine shook her head. “That doesn’t exactly restore your faith in humanity.”

“Hang out with me for a few days and my cases would completely destroy your faith in humanity.”

Steve frowned, and Laine wondered whether he was disturbed by the content of their conversation or the chumminess between her and Cara. As Steve pulled out the stool on the other side of him, Laine waggled her finger, indicating that he should move down so she and Cara could sit next to one another.

“Join us,” she said to her new friend.

Dropping onto the stool, Cara shrugged. “For a few minutes. I have to get back to work.” She leaned forward and directed her attention to Steve. “And so does he.”

“How could I forget?” He raised his hand to the bartender, then asked Cara what she wanted.

“Diet Coke,” she said.

“One for me, too,” Laine added, pushing her martini glass aside.

“Ben got married recently, too,” Cara said.

“Really?” Ever since the death of Steve’s father, Ben had been the leader of the Kimball clan. Laine had never met him, but she’d gotten the impression that Ben was both reserved and revered. A longtime role model for Steve.

“Steve’s the last bachelor in the family,” Cara said, cutting her gaze toward her brother-in-law. “And likely to stay that way.”

“Certainly not from a lack of available candidates.”

“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.”