Page 221 of Her Reluctant Hero
“Jen says you’re a big-time reporter.”
His voice must have startled her, because she misstepped and skidded down the hill past him, her arms extended like a surfer’s. He grabbed the back of her shirt and jerked her upright. She stumbled, but found her feet beneath her.
“You okay?”
“Sure, great.” She rubbed the front of her throat where the collar had caught her.
“Trip?” he asked.
She scowled at him and snuffled back a giggle. “Yeah.”
“Want to sit down?”
The anxiety in his eyes calmed her down. “No, I’m okay. Can I take off my fire shirt now?” She lifted her ponytail off her face, having long since hooked her helmet to her pack.
He gauged the wind, the distance. He didn’t smell fire, but he didn’t depend on that abused sense anymore. “Yeah, I guess. Keep it ready, though. Don’t pack it away.”
He watched as she unbuttoned the shirt, waiting for a glimpse of the T-shirt she’d worn the other day.
Today’s T-shirt was pale green, and cut lower than the white one had been. Thinner fabric too, her lacy bra more pronounced, her nipples pressing against the fabric.
So the whole reporter conversation hadn’t helped dim his desire much.
She tied the shirt around her waist and glanced at him. Busted. He turned abruptly and headed downhill.
Once they found surer footing as the ground flattened out, he repeated his question. “So, are you? A big-time reporter?”
“I wouldn’t say that. I write for one of the bigger news magazines, but I’m nowhere near the caliber of some of those writers. I’m certainly not the best. But I have a talent.”
He looked sideways at her. “You’re big enough that you can survive on your income for however long it takes to do this story.”
His reasoning must have surprised her, because she raised her eyebrows at him. “I do all right.”
When she didn’t elaborate, he asked the question plaguing him since she’d walked into the strategy tent, shiny haired and clean nailed. “So how did you end up going through training and getting on a crew?”
“How can you understand something from watching it?” She swung her hand about to indicate the forest as her voice grew stronger, no longer out of breath. “I wanted to get on the inside, to see how it felt to be up against the fire, to know it could turn on you at any time.”
The passion in her voice made him wonder what it would be like for her to channel her passion in other areas. “So now you know.”
“Now I know.” Footing grew tricky, leaving her a bit breathless. “Is this the worst thing that’s ever happened to you?”
Uh-uh, he wasn’t falling for that. She was trying to turn the conversation back to him again. Not going to happen.
“Being saddled with a reporter? Probably.”
“Har-dee-har-har.” She tossed her head, freeing her ponytail from the collar of her shirt, baring the graceful line of her throat. The dirt smudging it only reminded him of how she didn’t belong here. “I mean being stranded, unable to get back to camp, running low on water.”
“We’re not stranded, we will get back to camp today. And no, this isn’t the worst I’ve faced.”
“What is?”
He shook his head. He didn’t talk about it. But this was nowhere near as bad.
“So what would you do if you couldn’t be a Hot Shot anymore?” she asked blithely.
“I don’t think about it.” He spoke more sharply than he intended. He was superstitious about damn little, but this was something he believed without question.
“What? You aren’t serious.”
