Tempt the Flames Page 4

  Lance nodded. “I’m not leaving training.” His eyes burned up at her, but this time she recognized the fire. This was the ambition she remembered. All his life, Lance would decide he wanted something and then pursue it with single-minded focus. If he wanted to be here, to be a smokejumper, he was going to do whatever it took to make sure that happened. Even visit her at her mom’s house and try to make nice.

  “I know.” She hugged her arms around her. “That’s what I told Will today.”

  “Really?” His brows shot up.

  “Sure. For the most part.” She shrugged one shoulder, and inhaled. “He thinks you’re reckless and dangerous. An adrenaline junkie, like your dad.”

  “Like Will’s got room to talk.”

  “That’s what I told him.” She couldn’t help her grin. “I also said that you deserved a chance, to prove yourself.”

  “You did?” His surprise was audible.

  “Of course.” She scowled. “You know me. It might have been ten years, but I haven’t changed that much.”

  As he held her gaze, the years fell away, dragging them back to when they used to be friends, when she wished they could have been so much more. “Thank you.”

  “Is that why you came? To see if I’d make you quit training?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, you and your brothers didn’t exactly welcome me with open arms.”

  He had, then. Sure, Will had wanted exactly that. She’d understand if Lance had seen that coming. But her? Even if she hadn’t made the kind of lasting impression she’d always wanted to make, he must know she wouldn’t agree to that. Things might be different between all of them now, but still…that stung.

  She gritted her teeth, but kept her response mild. “We were surprised. No one told us you were coming.”

  His mouth thinned. “So you won’t try to get me to quit?”

  “No, you ass. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just another trainee.” It really chafed that he thought she’d be unfair to him. “Just like everyone else.”

  How she managed to deliver that lie was beyond her.

  “Am I, Meg?” He pressed up, off the porch step, and closed the distance between them. When only a few inches separated them, he stopped. The close proximity forced her to look up at him, exposing her neck. She didn’t step back, though, refusing to retreat from him. She was going to be his trainer, after all. An authority figure. She couldn’t back down now.

  “You are,” she said, but it came out as a whisper. “We aren’t friends. Not anymore. Not now, after everything.” He’d opened a huge chasm between their families after the fire. He’d avoided them all and moved without even saying goodbye.

  “I suppose not.” His breath fanned her face, and her foolish body shivered. His hands dropped to cup her shoulders. There was no pressure, only his fingers on her, but she found herself leaning. Into him.

  She’d been staring at his forehead, but now she couldn’t keep from meeting his eyes.

  The intensity there sent a lightning bolt through her. As she stared at him, she bit into her lower lip and his gaze strayed there. She wondered what it would be like to step closer, to reach for him, to put her hands on his waist, dig her fingers into his T-shirt and pull him toward her.

  She tilted, a fraction of a shift, as if he was her sun and she was caught in his orbit.

  Then, he glanced away and stepped back.

  Embarrassment crashed down on her, her facing warming. Good God, what had she been about to do? She’d been contemplating throwing herself at him, that’s what.

  Firming her shoulders, she wrapped her hands around her waist. She’d been through this with him before, hadn’t she? He’d never wanted to hurt her feelings. Since he moved, and she’d gained some space from him, that’s the conclusion she’d reached. He must have known how she felt, but he’d chosen not to act on it, so he didn’t embarrass her.

  Because he hadn’t felt the same.

  Now, though, thinking he was protecting her or sparing her feelings only made it more pathetic. How many years would it take until she stopped being so attracted to Lance Roberts?

  More than ten, obviously.

  She was going to be his trainer. She’d have some control over whether he was hired at the end of all this. Having any physical contact with a rookie smokejumper—any smokejumper—would be completely unprofessional and could jeopardize her job.

  If all those years of Lance showing no interest hadn’t kept her in check, the risk he posed to her career should.

  No more. She couldn’t do her job, not like this. From here on, she was determined not to feel anything for him.

  Nothing.

  She attempted to ignore how good the late-day sun looked on his tanned skin, how soft his gray eyes were. Failed. “I can understand your concerns, Lance, but trust me, you and I are strictly professionals.” She glared at him. “In fact, I plan to pretend you don’t exist.”

  Lifting his hands, he said, “That’s seems a bit extreme, doesn’t—”

  “And, I don’t date firefighters, especially the ones I train. From here on, you won’t touch me. At all.” To prove her resolve, she stepped back. Because she couldn’t think when he was this close and definitely not when his hands were on him.

  His jaw tightened. It might have been ten years, but she recognized that look. It was a challenge. “Seems presumptuous. I didn’t ask you out.”

  She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “No pat on the back, no nudge on the shoulder.” She sounded crazy. This was too far. Or maybe it wasn’t. Who knew? “Nothing.”

  “I understood what you meant.” He snorted. “You know what, firecracker, that sounds good to me. Strictly professional. And trust me, I won’t touch you at all. Nothing.” Then, he offered her a grin that heated her blood. “Not unless you ask me to, anyway.”

  The image of her asking him to touch her…of him touching her because she asked…it sent a shiver of desire tiptoeing through her stomach. To cover any trace of that, she laughed. “Then you’ll be waiting forever.”

  “Maybe.” He offered her a jaunty salute. “Thanks for clearing this all up. It was…illuminating.” He chuckled. “I’ll see you tomorrow, firecracker.”

  He didn’t wait for her to answer, only got in the Jeep and left.

  She’d gotten good at watching Lance Roberts leave.

  * * * *

  As Lance navigated the turn from the Buchanan’s gravel driveway onto the highway and accelerated toward the air center, he tilted his neck to one side, then the other, trying to stretch out the strain it had taken to joke his way out of that conversation. His palms were slick on the steering wheel, and he rubbed them one at a time against his pant legs. Even some distance didn’t help the hum inside him. God, Meg’s lips had looked so soft, her skin so smooth….

  What the hell had he been thinking?

  He never should have touched her. It was a recipe for disaster. He’d known, and he’d done it anyway. It was dangerous. Considering that he jumped out of planes, dived off cliffs, skied, surfed, and bungee jumped…that was saying something.

  He’d dropped his hands on her shoulders, and the slim bones under his palms had made him want to tug her against him, pull her closer, feel her heat against him. The whole thing had gone straight to his head, like the sweetest adrenaline rush.

  He needed to find out what happened to his father. One day after his return to Redmond and already he could see the Buchanans weren’t going to appreciate him poking around. Like the rest of the town, they believed his dad had left them fatherless. None of them seemed willing to rehash that history.

  Well, he owed it to his father to see this through. Owed it to himself. He’d lost everything in that fire, too.

  His father’s memory had taken such a beating after his death. His grandmother had hardened, thanks to all the public scr
utiny. Unable to take it, his mother had fled town with as much dignity as she could muster.

  There were so many pieces missing from the events of that day. Only Joe Buchanan had been on the ground at the fire with Jason Buchanan and JT Roberts. Traumatized after his brother’s death and suffering from PTSD, he hadn’t been reliable, and his testimony had been disregarded for the most part. Now, years later, Lance hoped that Joe could piece some of it together for him. Maybe the pilot from that day, or one of the other jumpers could help, too. Someone had to know something.

  As he planned his return, he’d known that if he discovered something that exonerated his father—even partially—it could defame the Buchanans. He’d told himself that it couldn’t be helped. Any discomfort to the Buchanans would be the necessary result for unearthing the truth.

  He only wanted the truth. After a decade, he needed it.

  Seeing Will and Hunter today…he didn’t care if he found something that pissed them off.

  But Meg? He wouldn’t hurt Meg intentionally for anything.

  They couldn’t be friends anymore, and they definitely couldn’t be more. Even the truce he’d offered her would feel like a betrayal if he discovered something that ruined her memory of her father. Which is why he needed to avoid near misses like what happened on her porch, no matter the cost.

  He meant what he’d said. He wouldn’t touch her again. Even if it killed him.

  Meg wasn’t a rule breaker. There shouldn’t be anything between them, not if they didn’t want to complicate their jobs. She’d make sure they did the right thing.

  He might not have it in him to do what was appropriate, but he trusted Meg.

  Because if it was up to him, right thing be damned. God, he’d wanted to kiss her. He still ached with it. She’d been going on, about how he was like everyone else, and something in him had growled.

  He’d always wanted to be someone important to her, more than just her brother’s friend, but he’d never allowed himself to think of Meg like that. Or, when he had those stirrings, he squashed them. She was Hunter’s sister. Guys didn’t chase their best friend’s kid sisters. It was unspoken bro code.

  He and Hunter didn’t talk anymore. Yesterday, he’d barely looked at him.

  Maybe that’s what kicked his libido into overdrive. Some unspoken barrier that had kept him from thinking of Meg like that had been removed. And the feel of her under his fingertips, the sound of her sigh as she stepped closer…it had cut straight to his groin. He’d wanted to cover her mouth, hold her close, kiss her again and again until they were breathless.

  She’d told him she wouldn’t ask him to touch her again. He should want her to keep that promise. He didn’t.

  He needed to knock this shit off. Nothing would ruin his chances here faster than hitting on his trainer. In the end, nothing would hurt her more than if he let his desire for her get the best of him while he kept secrets from her.

  As he turned into the air center parking lot, he slowed over the gravel and pulled his Jeep into a spot in the back. Shifting into park, he rounded his shoulders and exhaled.

  His fired-up sex drive might want one thing, but rationality needed to prevail. He’d learned what he needed to know from her: she wouldn’t stand in his way during training. It might have been a decade, but Meg had always been true to her word.

  He would leave it at that. Tomorrow, he would pass his test, the first step toward becoming a smokejumper. Then, he would discover what really happened to his father.

  Chapter 4

  Last night, the rookies had been briefed on what they could expect today. At six o’clock in the morning, as the dew still covered the grass on the field behind the air center, Meg stood in front of the new smokejumper recruits. She listened to a few of the seasoned smokejumpers as they explained the physical test and reinforced the seriousness of their training. They were an intimidating sight. If the rookies weren’t quaking in their boots yet, they should be.

  After the fire and brimstone speech, they headed for the community college where they’d do the PT test. None of them said much. She supposed that’s what happened when a group of men waited for a life-changing milestone to be completed. If they didn’t pass, they’d go home and take their dreams of smokejumping with them.

  Her job might not be on the line, but she was wrestling with her own demons.

  At four o’clock, unable to sleep, she’d scoured the coffee carafe, removing weeks of grime. Then, she drank an entire pot as she flipped through the files of all of the firefighters in front of her.

  She read Lance’s twice. His references praised his attention to detail and leadership skills. They admired his charisma and cautioned about his stubborn streak.

  None of it surprised her. What she didn’t expect—and had been completely inconvenient—was how proud she was of him. Beneath the weight of his father’s scandal, he could have chosen a different path. She’d have understood if he had.

  After all, she’d abandoned her own desire to take up firefighting when she couldn’t handle what happened back then.

  But, like her brothers, Lance had picked the career that their fathers loved, a calling they’d all admired as children. A job that caused her icy worry any time she thought too long about her brothers doing it.

  From what she read, he’d become a damn good firefighter.

  Which should have reinforced how unsuitable he was for her. If their history didn’t make him off limits, the fact that he was a firefighter should put him squarely in the “hell no” category.

  Her mother died slowly in the years after losing the love of her life to firefighting. She wouldn’t repeat that mistake.

  She dated safe men. In college, she’d chosen accountants and businessmen. Shawn, the guy she was casually dating now, was a doctor.

  So what if Shawn and the others never made her stomach fluttery like Lance did? At least men like Shawn didn’t risk their lives for a living.

  Her misstep last night couldn’t be repeated. If she was going to prove to Lance—to herself—that he was no different than the other recruits, she needed to start today.

  Before she left her mom’s house, she’d tied her hair into a ponytail. Then, she braided it. When the braid didn’t look right, she pulled it out, chastised herself for being silly, and refastened the ponytail.

  It didn’t matter what she looked like. She would run these guys through their physical tests. Lance was just one of the recruits. Like all the others.

  She needed to start believing that, or she would sabotage herself here before she had a chance to call this a career.

  As they filed into the college gym, she followed, surveying the group.

  They really were impressive. As they stood at attention, they looked like a bunch of calendar models: rugged, determined, and in amazing shape. Their files proved again that her uncle was an astute judge of what it took to be a superior firefighter.

  While three of them—Hunter included—came from the Redmond hotshot crew, the other four were outsiders. All of Lance and Dak’s experience was in California. The man they were calling Digger had been part of the Missoula hotshots. He didn’t say much, but his referrals claimed he was the “keep your mouth shut and do the job” sort. She admired that. The determined tilt of his chin said he planned to be one of the last men standing.

  The other guy, Rock, was trying out for the part of class clown. The sun was barely up and the guy was already cracking jokes.

  As for the other guys from Redmond, Hunter hadn’t told her much. Sledge and Kevin. Sledge—short for Sledgehammer, she was told—was the typical overachiever. Even this early, his hair was slicked, and he wore the expression of someone who expected and accepted only perfection. On the other hand, Kevin’s skin was pale. Probably test day nerves. Well, if he couldn’t guts it out through a physical, he wasn’t going to hack it jumping from a plane into a fire.
The sooner they all figured that out, the better.

  The veteran jumpers explained the PT test, peppered with a heavy dose of “this isn’t going to be easy” fear tactics, and they handed the group over to the trainers: today, her and her boss, Bobby Mitchell.

  “Good morning.” Mitch clasped his clipboard in front of him. “I’m the head trainer. This here is Meg Buchanan, one of my assistants. Pass this test, you stay. Fail, you’re gone. We start with pull-ups, push-ups, and sit-ups. You manage that, we’ll take a mile and a half run. Then, the pack test. You’ll carry 110-pound packs and we’ll walk a few miles. All before lunch. It’s going to be a great morning.”

  He pointed to Lance, Dak, and Rock. “You three with Meg. I’ll take the rest of you.”

  Nodding, she gripped her own clipboard and stopwatch. She’d been avoiding Lance’s eyes, but now she couldn’t. The connection sent a flurry of butterflies dancing in her stomach. God, he looked amazing…and determined. His shoulders were tight, his jaw firm. The weight of his gaze bored into her. She had to tear her eyes away.

  Inhaling a steadying breath, she forced a smile and hoped it looked confident. She could do this. “We’ll take turns. I’ll time you for each task. Let’s begin with pull-ups or chin-ups. For this, you need to get your jawbone over the bar.”

  She glanced at each of them, making sure to spend the same amount of time on each face, doing her best not to linger on Lance. “Who would like to go first?”

  “I’ll go.” Lance stepped forward. “Lead the way.”

  She nudged her head toward the bar anchored on the wall. His eyes fixed on the bar above his head and he stripped out of the sweatshirt he’d been wearing, leaving himself in a thin, blue T-shirt. To distract herself from the set of his shoulders and the ripple of muscle beneath the fabric, she busied herself with the stopwatch. “You need to do seven. I’ll time you.”