Wendy Etherington - The Eleventh Hour

Their once-boisterous Irish father was no doubt rolling over in his grave at the tension between his two girls. Laine had always taken care of her sister, tried to get her to do the right thing, the responsible thing. But Cat never saw things the same way and inevitably dug in her heels whenever Laine tried to convince her otherwise.

Feeling both relief at having done her duty and overwhelming guilt at abandoning Cat to tasks she would never manage on her own, she closed her cell phone, then dropped it back in her purse.

She would just have to straighten it all out when she got back.

Rolling her shoulders, she thought about her shooting plan for the next day. Some aerials of the damage, some—

Without fanfare or a drumroll, Steve Kimball walked into the bar, his buddy Josh Burke flanking him.

Steve looked every bit as good as he had that summer. Wavy black hair, broad shoulders, confident, seductive smile. Caught up in her stunned, drooling stare, she even thought—from fifteen feet away—she could see the mischievous glint in his bright blue eyes.

Her body loosened. Sparked. Stood at attention.

Though confused at being awakened so suddenly, she was pretty sure her libido saluted.

What had she done? Why had she thought she could be within twenty miles of this man and not want him again?

Like the chicken she was trying to prove she wasn’t, she hid behind a menu. She wasn’t ready to face him.

By now she supposed he knew she was in town, since she’d spotted Josh the first night she’d arrived, when she’d met her friend Denise for drinks.

As she peeked past the menu, she saw him looking around the bar, as if searching for someone. Her? Not likely. He’d been angry and resentful when she’d asked him to choose between her and his job. In retrospect, she could hardly blame him.

An adventurer like him wouldn’t have stayed satisfied with her for long. Not when he had his pick of any woman he wanted. And she couldn’t imagine spending her life watching him jump out of airplanes, wondering when the day would come that he never made it home.

Deep down she’d known they’d never last. Asking him to choose, when she already knew the answer, was an easy way to bring everything to a neat end.

He and Josh obviously spotted their buddies in a back booth, already crowded with giggling women. She recalled many times when Steve, Josh and Tommy were surrounded by women. Josh, with his shaggy, curly dark hair and direct stare. Tommy with his clean-cut, blond California good looks. And Steve, rounding out the gorgeous and charming threesome.

She could hardly blame the women for their good taste. Still, Laine had been embarrassingly insecure and jealous.

In the years since, she’d grown up a lot, found some confidence and backbone. She wasn’t emotionally invested in Steve anymore. He and his dangerous job simply reminded her of an uncertain time in her life, and of her insecurity about his feelings for her. And while he might still affect her body, his job didn’t matter, except in relation to her photo assignment. She wasn’t falling for him again.

Especially since he wasn’t likely to give her a second glance.

Save Aunt Jen from a wildfire and her pride. Wow her editor with action, nongirlie photos. Resist Steve Kimball.

A workable plan. A reasonable plan.

Right?

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.”