Plain Jane & The Hotshot Read online

  “Quit the catfighting,” Dottie called over to them.

  But she spoke absently.

  Like Hazel, she was distracted by something going on over at the adjacent ridge.

  Jo followed their gazes and saw a new pall of gray-black smoke rising into the sky. Flames licked upward, fueled by the brisk breeze.

  “That’s a new fire,” Bonnie said behind her. “It wasn’t burning earlier today.”

  “Yeah, same thing I was thinking.”

  Even as they watched, a twin-engine transport plane swept overhead. Smoke jumpers hurled out of the fuselage, their parachutes opening gauze-white against the sky.

  Jo couldn’t help admiring the men’s obvious skill, for their drop zone was tiny and the wind was picking up. Nonetheless, they landed with precision on a lower slope and quickly began moving up to intercept and contain the outbreak.

  What a way to pay the bills, she thought.

  “Is that Nick Kramer’s team?” Bonnie wondered out loud. “They sure haven’t got much room to operate on that steep ridge.”

  Hazel, also busy watching the firefighters in action, turned to tell them that Nick’s team had the day off. But spying the sudden look of concern on Jo’s face, Hazel decided to keep mum.

  After all, she reasoned, holding something back wasn’t the same as telling a fib.

  Supper was finished, the sun had finally gone down in a copper blaze, and the women were waiting for the moon and stars to glow a little more brightly before they set out for their various drop points. Hazel had tuned the radio to the local station out of Bighorn Creek for the evening news broadcast.

  “Turning to fire news in the Bitterroot country,” said the announcer, “we have a late report, just in, that two smoke jumpers were injured, one seriously, while escaping from a sudden firewall on Bent’s Ridge.”

  “That’s the next ridge over!” Dottie exclaimed. “Must be the guys we saw jumping a little while ago.”

  “One man was treated on the scene for minor burns and lacerations,” the newscaster continued, “while the second was helivacked to Lucas County General, where he is in poor but stable condition. Although no evacuation of the park has been ordered, emergency officials fear an escalation of the fires in the next seventy-two hours.”

  At the unexpected news, Jo felt her heart sink like a stone. She was surprised at her reaction. A cold, nervous fear iced her blood, and it had nothing to do with the threat of fire. All of a sudden she wanted very much to know if Nick Kramer was all right.

  What’s up with you, Lofton? she berated herself angrily. Of course it’s sad that a couple of guys got hurt. But you’re getting much too worked up over a guy who’s nothing special to you.

  “I hope Nick’s okay,” Kayla said, rubbing it in.

  Jo could see her adversary in the rubescent firelight, goading her with a knowing smile. Kayla was good at salting a wound.

  Suddenly fed up, Jo stood and headed toward the cabin just to get a little time alone.

  Hazel had to chuckle at the schoolyard silliness of it all. Watching these youngsters fight against and deny their feelings was more fun than anyone could buy a ticket for. Jo, with her natural shyness and that defensive, stiff-necked pride, was still smarting from Ned Wilson’s assault on her self-esteem, seeing Ned in every guy. And Nick, who appeared at a quick glance to be spoiled by good looks, but was in fact hungry with the same needs Jo felt.

  This one’s a challenge, Hazel conceded, fraught with touchy egos and hidden dangers. But she had never cared much for these “best friends” romances, where everything was sweet lavender and no storms. True love meant some fireworks and turbulence now and then, as surely as fast cars were made for speed, not safety.

  “Time to take these gals out and dump them in the wild!” Hazel announced.

  Jo was abandoned in a little, sloping pine hollow somewhere that she did not know from the moon.

  All she had to do was get back to camp, she told herself. She was smart enough to be a teacher, so she was smart enough to use the map Mother Nature had given her. Hazel had taught her well, she thought, looking up at the dusting of stars in the sky.

  This was easy enough to do. It was just that she had Nick Kramer on her mind, instead of what she was supposed to be doing. She couldn’t stop worrying about that smoke jumper who was seriously hurt. Worrying that he had been Nick.

  Shaking off her dread, she read the stars above her and said aloud as if to fortify herself, “This is the way.”

  She sighted on a big knoll well ahead, wending her way through trees and bushes, the full moon making travel easy.

  In fifteen minutes she reached the knoll.

  Moving from point to point, she eventually reached a moonlit body of water: Wendigo Lake. It reflected in the moonlight like a liquid mirror. At her end she could see the narrow shadow of a dock. Beyond it, on the other side of the lake, was the paved road that wound up Lookout Mountain to Bridger’s Summit. From there she could find her way with her eyes closed.

  Jo felt exhilarated by the accomplishment. Something had been growing slowly within her these past days, something unfamiliar but welcome. She felt it very strongly now and realized, with a sense of wonder, that it was confidence.

  She headed toward the long, wooden dock that jutted well out into the kidney-shaped lake.

  Although she would never admit it to anyone, she wanted to get back to the campground and see if there was any word about Nick. More and more, she was starting to think it was he who had been injured earlier.

  That grim possibility made her replay, in her mind, all the nasty comments she’d hurled at him.

  There’d certainly been plenty, she admitted ruefully. And what, really, had he done to deserve them? Because Ned had put her through the wringer, she turned around and punished Nick.

  Just ahead of her in the moonlit darkness, a figure stepped onto the dock.

  He walked to the far end, near the water. Then abruptly he turned and looked her way.

  “Humans or bears?” he called out in an amiable tone, for it was too dark to discern faces at a distance.

  Jo drew up short at the sound of the voice from the dark end of the dock.

  For a brief moment warm relief flooded her as she realized Nick was all right, after all.

  But then, right on the heels of that emotion came a sudden, hot rush of anger as she realized she’d been set up.

  Hazel had been the one to drop her off. She’d been the one to plan Jo’s foray through the woods.

  Jo would bet all the gold in Fort Knox that Hazel was playing matchmaker, and if Nick Kramer was playing along just to make her look like a fool, then he’d be sorry.

  So very sorry, Jo thought as she stared at him in the moonlight, hands on her hips, waiting, silent accusation all over her face.

  Ten

  This was no chance encounter. Her guilt of seconds ago about mistreating Nick was swept away on a wave of indignation.

  “Skinny-dipping, my brave firefighter?” she asked sarcastically.

  “Well…I—” He held out his unused tackle.

  “Yeah, right. You have some nerve,” she fumed.

  His silhouette was clear, backlit by silver moonwash, slim-hipped and wide-shouldered. When he came toward her, moonlight limned his handsome profile, emphasizing the strong jaw, patrician nose, and his much-too-experienced lips.

  Despite her anger and embarrassment, the memory of their torrid kiss on the bridge assailed her. Desire licked at her in a dizzying rush.

  An awkward silence took over.

  “Well, at least I know now you weren’t hurt,” she blurted out, not quite thinking.

  “You thought maybe I was one of the ones who got it today? And you cared?” he said, astonished.

  Is that a smile, she wondered, or just a little cynical pull of his lips? It was hard to tell, even though the moonlight was generous.

  “Come here, girl,” he said without demanding an answer to his question.

 
; Even she knew her silence had answered well enough, anyway.

  She dreaded being alone with him. He was a male she was infinitely attracted to, and she wasn’t over Ned yet. It was coming at her way too fast.

  For a few moments she felt herself balanced on a feather edge between excitement and apprehension. She was hurtling toward something, the same heady dizziness she’d initially felt during her affair with Ned.

  One part of her liked it and wanted to keep hurtling; another part wanted to back out now and avoid the heartache that would surely come when she crashed.

  “C’mon, walk with me around the lake,” he said. “It’s a fine night.”

  “I have to go to the other side, anyway, to get back to camp.”

  He laughed. “Does that mean yes?”

  She shook her head, exasperated. Anything was better than just staring at him in the moonlight. She was relieved to walk.

  He speared his fingers through his hair, expelling a humorous sigh. “Ahh, I guess I should confess.”

  “Hazel set me up, didn’t she.”

  “Oh, I s’pose she might have.”

  “Hazel’s never fooled me,” Jo asserted. “For a woman who never even considered dating after her husband was killed, she sure likes to play Cupid.”

  “And she’s pretty damn good at it, if you ask me.” He looked down at her, his face a hard, marble profile in the moonlight.

  “I certainly feel snared,” she answered, feeling wary.

  A smile touched his lips. “Good.”

  Before she could say or do anything, he pulled her into his arms and hungrily sought her mouth with his.

  The center of her being suddenly turned liquid, and her pulse exploded as if she’d been running hard.

  For a few electrified moments she responded eagerly, probing his mouth with her tongue, pressing tightly against his muscular form, feeling herself mold to him, sharing his body heat.

  Thrilling at the bulge of his arousal…

  But then she seemed to be spinning out of control too quickly, and the apprehension was back.

  This way misery lies, a voice cautioned.

  It was the same, sudden pyrotechnics she’d felt with Ned, too, a hot need to tear off her clothes and make furious, intense, exhausting love for hours.

  And just think how that all ended…

  She pulled away from Nick and started walking again, fighting to get her breathing under control.

  He simply fell in step beside her, matching her silence for some time, content with her company and the beautiful, moonlit lake, its calm surface reflecting diamond points of silver-white light.

  There was a gentle, steady hum of insects, and now and then an owl hooted, the sound making a ghostly echo in the stillness. Occasionaly there was a plopping sound from the lake when a fish jumped.

  He took her hand in his, and she let him, liking the strength and form of his grasp. The rough, callused spots reminded her how hard he worked with those hands.

  “You know,” he said after a minute or two, “I was thinking tonight how it must feel for you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, for instance, like when all us guys ran into you on the bridge, all the ogling and smart remarks. They rib the hell out of me, too, but it’s all basically harmless.”

  “Believe me,” she said, “when it comes to the teasing, the guys aren’t as bad as the women I’m camped with.”

  “Yeah, you mean…like Kayla catching us?”

  “Yeah, like Kayla catching us,” she repeated dryly. “I’ll never hear the end of that.”

  It wasn’t cold, but Jo shivered a little, and Nick must have sensed it, for he took off his denim jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Then he encircled her waist with his arm, drawing her closer as they strolled.

  He brought her left arm around his own waist. He felt strong and supple, and everywhere she moved her hand, muscles rippled under it. Not bulked-up, weightlifting muscle, more like the compact strength of tempered steel.

  “Hazel’s a savvy old dame,” he remarked, kissing her hair. “She’s right, you know. We’ve been at each other’s throats, and yet we don’t even know each other.”

  “And, of course, being Hazel,” Jo interjected, “she’s at least hinted that I’ve had a relationship problem recently, right?”

  “Something like that,” he admitted. “But that happens to everybody. What really got me thinking was her mentioning it hasn’t been much fun for you, growing up in Miss Montana’s shadow.”

  “I love my mom, but thank God she wasn’t Miss America, too, or I might be in a convent today.”

  They both laughed, easily and without forcing it, and it felt good to her. It felt good to have a strong pair of arms around her, too. Without knowing it, she’d been bottled up now for too long, emotionally and physically.

  “So tell me about the guy,” he said, nearly stopping her in her tracks.

  She took a deep breath. Pulling her arm away from his waist, she said, “Blunt and unapologetic, spoken just like Hazel,” she said. “No wonder she likes you.”

  “But he’s the brick wall I have to get through, so it makes sense to cut to the chase.”

  She stopped and stared at him. “You’re amazing. You just assume we’re going to have some kind of affair, don’t you? Well, let me tell you—”

  He pulled her to him and kissed her.

  In the insanity of the moment, she stopped protesting.

  Finally, when they began walking once more, she released a frustrated moan and began her confession.

  “Look, this guy isn’t going to determine my life, okay? It wasn’t a big deal. But there I was, totally gone on the guy, and he pulls out this wife and family like a rabbit out of a hat. But things like that happen all the time to women. This time it just happened to me.”

  “To be deceived that way,” he said gently. “Must’ve really hurt.”

  She nodded. For a moment her mouth quivered, but not from the cold. The memory of Ned’s sheepish, self-centered confession made old wounds throb anew. For some reason, with this man, she felt like talking about it. It was cathartic.

  “It had happened at the beginning of the summer. I was taking my required continuing-ed courses at the state university. He was the charming, young visiting professor. I fell hard, and Ned pretended to have fallen, too. But in fact, the only thing I fell for was the oldest romantic con in the books. He was only in it for the sex. At the end of the summer term, when I wanted to talk about our future, he bluntly informed me he had a wife and kids back in Ohio.”

  She was quiet for a long time, the memories hurtling through her mind.

  For some reason, some of them almost seemed funny to her now. “‘But I’ll be eternally grateful,’” she mimicked what Ned had told her with a straight face, “‘for the kind way you validated my manhood. You’ll always be so special to me.’” She almost laughed. “Can you believe it? He’d spoken to me as if he were signing the back of a publicity photo for a loyal fan.”

  Nick studied her.

  After her confession she had a difficult time meeting his gaze.

  “You must have been crushed,” was all he said.

  She closed her eyes, not revealing the half of it. Shy by nature, she’d been half tempted to become a hermit after the Ned disaster. Ned was weak and dishonest, but she couldn’t help the persistent conviction that it was somehow all her fault. Her beauty-queen mother had imprinted upon her the notion that the only thing a man could devote himself to was eye candy—and eye candy was the last thing Jo cared to be.

  “Well, I won’t go through that again,” she said, more for herself than for Nick. She looked at him. “And for all I know you’ve got a wife and twelve kids back in Mystery. So enough about me.” She was eager to change the subject. “I’ve been insulting you for days, but I’m supposed to know the enemy.”

  He helped her over a fallen log, lifting her as effortlessly as a feather. She knew he was studying her in the amp
le moonlight, and her face, she hoped, mirrored nothing.

  “Not a whole lot to know,” Nick said quietly. “When I was four years old, my parents were killed in a car accident up in the Canadian Rockies. It was one of those weekend getaways, you know, to celebrate their fifth anniversary. I was staying with my grandma Jane in Denver when it happened. I hate to admit it, but I have only the vaguest memories of them.”

  His tone changed a little, hardened. “So Grandma had custody of me until she had a stroke when I was fourteen. Child Protection Services had to take over then.”

  “God, that must have been hard for you.”

  “Tell me about it,” he said. “When you’re a teenager, adoption is hardly likely. Most people want cute little babies, not a gangly adolescent with a chip on his shoulder. So I had a series of foster families, three in four years.”

  He grew quiet as if the memories of that time were again fresh and raw.

  Gently she offered, “You must think me shallow, after what you’ve been through. Here I am,” she muttered, “complaining about growing up in my mother’s shadow.”

  “Hey, I don’t remember them much, but Grandma told me my parents loved me, and I’m grateful I had them. And Grandma.”

  “What were your foster parents like?”

  “Oh, I’m sure they meant well. I wasn’t abused or anything like that. But to tell you the truth, I felt more like cheap labor than part of the family. My chief memories are of mowing lawns and washing cars and baby-sitting. Thank God I got a full scholarship for college when I turned eighteen. I’ve been on my own ever since.”

  “Kind of like a rolling stone that gathers no moss, right?” she probed.

  “Something like that, maybe.”

  “So you don’t have a wife and twelve kids somewhere?”

  He laughed. “Frankly I’d probably really like that, but I’m afraid I don’t have squat. When I get off this mountain, I have nothing waiting for me but a neglected cabin and an old mutt who spends more time in the kennel than with his master.”

  “I guess you aren’t home much during the fire season. But do you ever think about settling down?”