Kristin Hardy - Where There's Smoke

“Hardly. This tower is designed so people can’t tell if they’re being watched. The windows are smoked so dark you can’t see in with the lights on, much less off.”

“You’d be the first to point out that designs don’t always work as intended,” Sloane said curtly. “Now listen to me very carefully, Trask.”

“Nick,” he corrected.

“Just listen,” Sloane snapped. It was terrifying, how easily he’d slashed his way through the barriers she’d surrounded herself with. She had to push him out. She had to escape before he knew how much she was at risk. “I am here to do a job that is entirely dependent on the cooperation of your truck company. I will not have my credibility damaged in front of your men.”

“It wasn’t damaged.”

Her eyes flashed. “It could have been. You’re interfering with my work.”

“The testing was done for the day,” Nick countered.

“I’m on the job as long as I’m on fire department property.”

Nick reached out to finger a stray curl of her hair. “Next time I’ll make sure we’re off department property, then.” There was a hint of danger in his smile. It frightened her, because it made her want.

“There won’t be a next time,” Sloane flared, pushing past him. She paused, her hand on the doorknob. “After all, I’m just a tool for Ayre, right? Try to remind yourself of that every so often.”

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