Hot to Touch (Kimani Romance) (2 page)

H
e was the sexiest jumper she’d ever seen.

Although, truth be told, Emma had only been at the hub station for a short time and had never actually met a smoke jumper in person before her arrival. But, no doubt about it, this one was at the top of the food chain.

The jumpers gave new meaning to the term “alpha male,” from the base manager all the way down to the new recruits. It was a prerequisite for the men in their line of work to be in top physical and mental condition, always ready to go into action when the call came.

For all that, there was still something
more
about this one; something indefinable. A hint of danger and a sharper edge surrounded him, clung to him, made him that much more…prime.

He was the kind of man who, if placed in a room with ten other men looking for a fight, would be able to take each of them down, one by one.

Emma shivered.

The minute he’d walked into the packed gym the back of her neck had prickled in awareness and she’d turned around in search of the cause. As she stood braced at the top of the rappelling wall, preparing to go down, she’d paused and watched him as he casually spoke to the others. When he had turned to face her, as though aware of her regard, she’d quickly looked away before he’d caught her gawking at him. Giving the jumper who was assisting her an absent smile, Emma focused her attention on the task at hand.

The jumpers, at first cool toward her, had slowly warmed up and had begun to take her seriously. She didn’t want to erase the progress she had begun to establish by being caught eyeballing one of the men as if she were a starving woman and he a big, juicy steak.

She had been expecting that she would have to work harder to gain the respect of some of the men, coming in as an outsider and the only female in their close-knit brotherhood. She knew it would take more than the few days she’d been there, yet she’d been both surprised and pleased with the welcome they’d given her, so far.

Today was the first day they’d invited her to join them for physical training. She’d brought along her backpack that held her camera and mini-recorder, but she hadn’t pulled either out.

A natural athlete, she’d been thrilled when one of the
squad leaders invited her to give the rappelling wall a try, a training they used to prepare themselves for their live missions.

Emma had scaled down some of the most intimidating mountains in the Himalayas while following a mountaineering guide from Nepal while writing a story on the Sherpas. So when one of the smoke jumpers invited her to try rappelling, she’d been more than confident in her skills.

She eyed the jumper who scaled the wall alongside her. Concentrating on the climb, she put thoughts of the newcomer from her mind and made short work of the twenty-foot wall. She made it to the linoleum floor, spun around and grinned widely when she finished minutes before the other climber did.

Several of the men surrounded her, clapping her good-naturedly on the back. Her smile faltered when she again felt that odd prickling awareness slide along her skin. Glancing over her shoulder, her gaze collided with
his
—the jumper who’d entered the gym before she’d begun her descent.

He now stood just a few feet away, staring at her with an intensity that was unnerving. His light blue eyes were fixed on her, a deep frown on his face, pulling his thick, dark eyebrows together until they formed a straight line as he continued to stare at her…assessing her.

When she’d seen him enter the gym, she could tell he was tall, but now as he stood next to one of the other jumpers she could see that he towered over the other men. Dressed in a variation on what looked to
be the standard uniform the others wore for physical training, on him it looked completely different. It was more earthy…more masculine.

He wore the standard-issue gray T-shirt that hugged his broad chest and wide shoulders and a pair of loose-fitting matching gray gym shorts that cupped his lean hips.

His dark hair was cut short, almost military short, save for the slightly longer length on top. Although he currently wore a deep scowl on his face, his wide mouth was sensual and inviting. He casually wore an aura of command that set him apart from the others.

Like a lightbulb going on, it suddenly dawned on Emma who he was. Shane Westwood. He was the second in charge, after the base manager, the one she’d heard so much about from the others. According to the men, he was the golden boy, the man who could fight fires single-handedly…a regular superman.

She’d also learned from one of the rookies that he was staunchly against any female smoke jumpers gaining membership into the small substation. When she asked why, the man had shrugged his shoulders, claiming not to know the answer.

But she knew there had to be a story behind it despite claims to the contrary. Her instincts practically screamed at her, telling her so. And Emma never ignored her instincts. But she let it drop, choosing not to alienate her new informant by digging for more information he wasn’t ready to give.

When her eyes met his again, the look in them made her draw back physically. His animosity seemed to
reach out and grab her, so vibrant it was almost as if it were a living thing. The effect was as though someone had punched her right in the stomach.

Emma forced her body to stay erect, forced herself not to take a step back, so sudden and unexpected was both the look and the effect it had on her. For whatever reason, he didn’t want her there. Okay. Fine. She could deal with that.

What she didn’t want to examine, much less deal with, was her body’s reaction to him. The way—despite the obvious dislike he had for her, whatever the reason was behind it—the sizzle of awareness between them made her tremble slightly. She’d never had that happen with anyone else, much less someone who seemed to have such an irrational sense of disdain for her.

Whatever his issue, Emma had no intention of allowing him to try and get rid of her. She had come for one purpose, and one only—to write the best damn article she could, one she hoped would go to national syndication and take her career to the next level.

He was the senior smoke jumper at the station, and after the base manager, he was the one in charge. He had a lot of pull. His influence, if he chose to protest her presence, would make her job difficult.

Too much was on the line to allow some guy with a serious attitude—no matter how fine he was—to mess it up for her. She casually looked over her shoulder. A shiver ran over her arms as their glances collided again.

That might not be such an easy task.

She held his gaze until he broke contact, only to
allow his eyes to slowly, insolently run the length of her body. When his glance brushed over her breasts, she felt her body respond against her will. Her treacherous nipples stabbed against her sports bra, and Emma checked herself before she wrapped her arms around chest as though she had something to be ashamed of.

She wasn’t wearing anything provocative. Before her climb she’d tucked her oversize T-shirt into her knee-length shorts and pulled her hair up into a ponytail, and she was wearing no makeup. Yet the way he was looking at her, she felt naked. Exposed. She suppressed a shiver.

She placed a purposefully nonchalant smile on her face before turning away, but she could still feel his eyes on her. If he had something to say to her, he could come and say it, she thought, ignoring the sizzle of heat searing a hole straight through her back.

“Have you had a chance to go over and meet Ms. Rawlings yet?”

Shane turned as the base manager approached, dragging his attention away from the reporter. “
Ms.
Rawlings?” he asked, raising a brow. His commander’s dark face flushed in acknowledgment of the emphasis.

“Listen, Shane, if I told you she was a woman, you never would have agreed to it.”

“Damn straight.”

There was a short pause, both men eyeing each other, neither one giving an inch. Finally, Roebuck sighed.

“Give her a chance. I’ve known her editor for years.
We go way back. If he says she can do the job, she can. We need the good press that’ll come from her being here and the potential donations from the public. I don’t have to tell you how tough the economy is. And the state budget is tight. This could get us the cash flow we need for new equipment. So please, play nice.”

Shane was ready to fire off a retort, just as the woman approached them. He clamped his mouth shut, folded his arms across his chest and waited until she stood in front of them. Giving Shane only a quick, cursory glance, her eyes darted away and she turned her attention to Roebuck.

Up close, her small, heart-shaped face was dominated by a pair of large, dark brown eyes, surrounded by long, full lashes. As she’d scaled down the rope, he’d noted how long her shapely legs were, but he had misjudged her height. Up close, the top of her dark brown head barely reached him at chest level.

Both her height and pretty face gave the appearance of a fragile doll. Still, although petite, her legs were long, shapely, and toned, as was the rest of her body, belying the notion that there was
anything
fragile about Emogene Rawlings.

Several strands of hair had escaped from her haphazard ponytail, and Shane felt a sudden and unwanted need to finger the dark tendrils and see if her hair were as soft as it looked.

“That was damn impressive!” Roebuck said to her, pulling Shane out of his observations.

“Thanks, sir. I can’t believe how much fun it was!”

“It’s hardly fun and games,” Shane said. “This is training—training the men go through on a daily basis to prepare them for whatever hazardous mission they may face on any given day. Call it what you will, but it’s hardly fun and games.”

Roebuck turned to Shane, heartily smacking him on the back. “Of course it isn’t, Shane. And I think Ms. Rawlings will fit right in, no problem at all!” If the commander’s hearty enthusiasm sounded a bit forced, no one called him on it. “And for the next four weeks, Emma will follow you, learn what it takes to be a jumper, interview the men and—”

“Now wait a minute, boss. What do you mean she’ll be following
me?
I never agreed to that!”

There was a long, strained silence. “Shane, Emma…why don’t we go to my office and discuss the particulars?” Roebuck turned on his heels, walking stiffly toward the exit.

Emma glanced around self-consciously, noticing they were the center of attention. With a tight smile aimed at the staring group of jumpers, she went to follow Roebuck out of the gym. From her peripheral vision she saw Shane hesitate, as though he had no intention of meekly following along.

She released a breath of relief when she saw him reluctantly follow them. So this was the jumper she was supposed to shadow. A sinking feeling settled in her gut.

Well, damn.

“S
ir, no disrespect intended, but I don’t really give a damn what ‘good press’ she’ll bring to the station. I just want her out of here. The sooner the better. And she sure as hell is not trailing me around. I have enough to worry about without playing babysitter to some damn reporter!”

Shane tried to keep his anger at a slow boil. He respected his base manager and didn’t want to go off half-cocked and say something he’d regret later.

Although Roebuck was in his early forties, his craggy features made him look older, deep lines scoring the sides of his full mouth, due to the hard life he’d led. He’d come to the smoke jumpers after serving several years in the military as a paratrooper, most of his service done during several deployments overseas.
Despite all of that, Shane had rarely seen Roebuck blow his stack. Even when one of the younger jumpers screwed up, the captain always kept his cool and always treated everyone fairly, equally, from the newest jumper to the seasoned vets.

It was one of the many traits Shane admired about his commander, and one of the many reasons he willingly followed the man’s lead, trusting his judgment, something crucial in their line of work.

But not this time.

He turned away, walking over to face the large bay window, not really seeing the view of the mountains and the hill country below.

“Shane.”

When he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, he turned his head.

“Be reasonable. It’s a done deal. Nothing you can do about it. I’ve already given her permission.” Roebuck sighed. “Look, I know where this is coming from. But you can’t let one incident make you like this. It was an accident, no one—”

“She’s not ‘shadowing’ me. Period,” Shane interrupted, not wanting to hear what his commander would say next, fighting against memories of a time he tried his hardest to ignore.

“And I would think you of all people would understand why,” he finished, grimly.

Emma paused, her fist poised to knock on the door, when the voices inside grew louder.

After leaving the gym on their way to the office, her cell phone rang, a call from her editor.

Although she could have allowed it to go to voice mail, she used the call as an excuse to get away. She needed a chance to pull herself together and rally her defenses against what she knew was a battle she faced with Shane.

Although she’d taken the call, she’d spoken less than five minutes with Bill before ending the conversation with a promise to call him back.

The anger of the prudent never shows.

She’d learned the value of the wise old adage long ago, while on her first assignment in a small village in Burma. She’d incorporated the saying as much as she could into her everyday life, although at times it wasn’t so easy to do.

She took a deep breath, slowly exhaling. No matter what happened, she wasn’t going to allow him to bait her into saying something she would regret later. He wouldn’t make her say something stupid and shoot herself in the foot before she even got it in the door.

When she could no longer clearly hear the angry staccato of words, she strained her ears to pick up on the conversation, stepping closer to the door.

After several minutes of silence, Emma mentally and physically squared her shoulders and knocked briskly on the door.

So, tall, blond and fine didn’t want her around his precious jumpers? Oh well. She had every right to be there. She hadn’t been given any special favors, she’d
worked hard to get the assignment and no one was going to take this golden opportunity away from her.

There was a slight pause before she heard Roebuck’s deep baritone calling out for her to enter. Cautiously, she opened the door, plastering a bright smile on her face.

Like a magnet, her eyes were drawn to the jumper as he stood near a large window, his long legs braced far apart, big arms crossed over his chest, his back to her.

Roebuck motioned her to come inside. “Come on in, Emma. We were just discussing your assignment.”

Emma picked up on the false cheer in his voice and the worried glance in the commander’s eyes as he looked at her.

Obviously he was aware that she’d heard at least part of the discussion. Despite that, along with the accompanying tension so thick in the room she could cut it with a knife, Emma nodded and stepped inside the office, closing the door behind her.

The office was small, but everything was neat and orderly. An oversize, scratched, oak desk took up most of the room, upon which two monitors sat. One was a computer, and the other seemed like some type of weather-monitoring system.

“Have a seat, Emma. We can go over the particulars of the article. Your expectations and ours.”

“What did you have to do to get this job?” Before Emma could take the offered seat, Shane spoke, surprising her, turning to face her.

“So you can speak. I thought you were just here for
my viewing pleasure.” Before she knew it, her mouth started in, before her head could rule it out, the retort tripping off her tongue.

Shane’s expression darkened, his brows nearly meeting in the middle as he took two steps toward her and stopped. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Whatever you want it to mean.” Emma shrugged. “Probably the same thing you meant when—”

“Shane,” Roebuck broke in. “Emma, before this goes any further, let’s all sit down, discuss this like we have some sense.”

Emma fully faced Shane, her anger rising. She crossed her arms over her chest, keeping her expression light. “Well, you were asking me how I got the job?” she baited Shane. “Just what did you mean by that?”

“You call yourself Gene Raw, right?”

“Yes. And your point would be?”

“My point is you seem to be…billing yourself as one thing when you’re selling something else entirely.”

“I’m not
selling
myself as anything other than what I am. A damn good photojournalist.” Emma brushed off his not so subtle innuendo and focused on the latter part of his sentence.

“I don’t get how having a pen name makes me seem as though I’m billing myself—or as you like to say, ‘selling’ myself—in any way different than who I am.” Emma stopped and drew in a deep breath. “And I do that purely because of men like you. Men who think that just because I’m a woman, I’m not as capable in doing my job as any other journalist. I don’t have to—”

“Look,” he interrupted. “I don’t pretend to know how
it works in your world. I don’t give a damn one way or another. What I do know is that lives are on the line here. There is no time for play, this is real—”

“And how will my presence here alter that?” Emma bit out angrily, her chest heaving, brushing against the hard wall of his abdomen.

She took a step back.

It was then that she noticed how close they stood to each other. One or both of them had moved so that they were so close they were touching. Emma caught the subtle hint of his cologne, mixed with his natural scent, wafting across her nose.

After backing up, she continued. “I didn’t get any special favors to get this job. I worked hard for it, just like I have for everything I’ve ever gotten. Every accomplishment I’ve ever had was because
I worked hard for it.
” She emphasized each word, unwanted emotion burning the back of her throat.

“No one gave me any special consideration.” She made one more attempt at civility, desperately trying to bring her anger and threatening tears under control.

“I’m sure you did nothing to get any favors,
Ms. Raw,
” he said, emphasizing her pen name. He just wouldn’t let it go.

“Like I said, I got this job fair and square, Mr. Westwood. And unless you want a sexual-harassment claim slapped on you and the rest of this camp, I suggest you put on your big-boy panties and deal with it.”

The back of her teeth hurt so badly from clenching them that she knew that as soon as she reached her
room she’d have to pull out her industrial-sized, extra-strength Motrin to rid herself of the pain.

Turning on her heels, she strode toward the door. If the door slammed back against the hinges with more force than necessary, she didn’t really give a damn.

To hell with not allowing her anger to show. If only he wasn’t so fine.