Wendy Etherington - The Eleventh Hour

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.