Hot Zone

by Anne Marsh

  So he could shove off.

  She wasn’t interested.

  Still, her head jerked around, unable to resist the temptation. Dade was definitely worth looking at it. His short hair was damp from a recent shower, and a clean T-shirt clung to his powerful chest. No fancy words or logos for him. Just plain white cotton and blue jeans paired with practical steel-toes. Strong, tanned forearms crossed over his chest as he watched her, his eyes narrowed. Play it off.

  “No,” she said firmly, her head swiveling right back to the window and the improvised parking lot. “No problem at all.” The patrol car coasted to a stop with a small crunch. She was like a bad country song. The po-po showed up, lights flashing, and she couldn’t stop herself from flinching. Thank God she didn’t play poker.

  “Seems like it to me.” He was right behind her now. “You’re real tense.”

  A big hand walked down her spine, pressing out the knots. Bliss. Leaning into that hand would be too easy.

  “Nope. Figment of your imagination.” She pulled away, still tracking the car with her eyes. Was the door opening? Or was the officer inside just sitting there? She tried not to flinch when Dade’s hand came back, landing on her shoulder. Just because she’d kissed him yesterday didn’t mean he got to touch her now.

  She’d use her words if she had to.

  Of course, she’d talked and talked that last time she’d visited the police station. She’d filled out forms and told them what she knew. Thad had paid her a little visit that same night. He’d pulled up alongside her in his patrol car and snapped out an order to get in. At least he’d pointed toward the passenger side and not the back, in the Plexiglas cube where he locked up criminals. When she’d gotten in—and she should have started running right then—he’d threatened her. If she kept talking, he’d talk, too, and share his side of things. The whole time, his fingers clenched her arm, squeezing the bones of her forearm together. She’d panicked and run as soon as he’d let her out.

  She couldn’t do that again.

  Wouldn’t do it.

  “You know the county sheriff?” Dade’s voice rumbled in her ear. She liked the way he spoke, sure and steady. He wasn’t in any rush. The car door was definitely opening, the sound of the motor pinging as it cooled drifting through the cafeteria’s screen door.

  “Not me.”

  “So there’s no problem there.” His drawl was slow and knowing.

  She opened her mouth to say something, anything. She knew how to lie. It should have bothered her how easily the lies came, but she was so long past that. Adrenaline spiked through her body, leaving her weak at the knees and painfully alive. Life was too short. Too uncertain. Dade’s big body brushed against hers, and she knew she wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass her by. She could have her way with her hotshot now, and tomorrow might be too late.

  Maybe tomorrow Thad would find her.

  “No problem at all,” she got out, before a big finger came up and covered her lips.

  “Better not to say anything, darling. Whatever you’re coming up with, I’ll wait for the truth.”

  Sarah Jo bit him.

  Not too hard, just hard enough to make a dent in his skin that would be gone within the hour. He was a tough son of a bitch. It didn’t matter. Hell, part of him liked the fact that she’d decided to sink her teeth into him. The rest of him knew he damned well deserved whatever she dished up because he shouldn’t be pushing her. Shouldn’t be touching her without an invitation she wasn’t issuing.

  Hell. He was out of his league here.

  He moved his finger.

  Fire made sense. That was a danger a man could wrap his arms around. Dig hard. Dig fast. Win. Dade loved everything about his job. He’d grown up in Strong and, after four years studying forestry, he’d come back home and gone to work for the U.S. Forest Service. That was happily-ever-after material right there. Together he and Sam Clayton led a team of twenty hotshots, charging in whenever Mother Nature got a little flame-happy.

  Sure, there were bad days. Real flat-out crap days where no matter what he did or how many times the air tankers dropped a load, there was no stopping the fire’s advance. He hated quitting. Hated watching a thousand acres burn because a careless park visitor had decided to host a marshmallow roast and then wandered off without making sure the fire was good and out. Most days, he won, however—or, at the very least, he didn’t lose.

  When he’d come in from the field today, finding Sarah Jo had been number one on his list. He and she, they needed to work this thing out. Yesterday, she’d kissed the hell out of him and they’d both liked it a little too much. Practical joke or not, they were both spending the summer at the fire camp. They’d see each other almost daily.

  Now that he’d removed his finger from her person, her grip on the pile of forks tightened. Maybe she wanted to stab him. He’d take what he could get. She certainly wasn’t ignoring him. He hadn’t dated much in recent history—a fire call came in and he went out, which made him bad Friday-night fodder—but even he knew paying attention was a good sign. Besides, he got the feeling that Sarah Jo didn’t do things the easy way. She wasn’t going to be Friday night and a movie.

  Or maybe that was just him, looking at her and seeing something more. Maybe yesterday’s kiss really had been a quick dare, a little fun that was over. Maybe he was the only one who saw her move as the opening gambit in something bigger. He’d liked the taste of her all right—and he definitely wanted more.

  He didn’t know why a police car had Sarah Jo jumping like fleas on a dog, but she was a nervous wreck. He could work with that. Shielding her from sight was simple enough, and letting her lean on him some was even easier. Hell, he had to admit having the strong, sassy Sarah Jo leaning on him gave him a primitive satisfaction and awakened a desire to take care of her. Whatever bad thing she feared wasn’t going to happen on his watch.

  Yeah, he wanted to go all protect and defend on her.

  Plus, she definitely looked good enough to eat. Today she was wearing another sassy T-shirt—Hugging a firefighter is hot—and a matching skirt that clung to her ass and her thighs. Her bare legs were sporting flip-flops instead of boots today, presumably in a nod to the triple-digit summer heat baking the camp. Missing her would be hard to do as her shirt was the most obnoxious shade of purple he’d ever laid eyes on. Of course, he also wasn’t certain she was wearing a bra beneath all that color, and he damned certain wanted to find out.

  “You still say there’s nothing wrong?”

  She moved then, putting him between herself and the car’s line of sight. Obligingly, he stepped closer so his shoulders blocked the window.

  Sarah Jo didn’t strike him as the kind of woman who ran scared. Hell, he figured she was more likely to kick trouble in the balls, so he didn’t know what could have set her off so. It was just the county sheriff, doing his weekly drive-by and the other usual fire camp visitors. She’d made it clear she wasn’t sharing, however, so he wouldn’t push.

  Much.

  “Not a thing,” she said confidently, but then the sheriff opened his door and she whirled, spilling forks everywhere. Thing was, that move put her right in his arms. Her breasts brushed his chest, which was even better. She’d definitely opted out of wearing a bra today, plus he caught a whiff of something citrus. Her shampoo, maybe, or lotion. Either way, she smelled good enough to eat.

  She slid her hands up his arms and over his shoulders, linking them around his neck.

  “You liked kissing me?” Not stopping for an answer, she walked him out the door, her thighs pressing into his with each step she took. “Yesterday?”

  He’d kiss her anywhere, anytime. Putting his hands on her hips, he let her steer him outside, curious to see where she was taking them.

  No point in beating around the bush. “You know I did.”

  “You want to do it again?”

  Hell, yeah. He had the feeling his mouth was opening and shutting in a troutlike fashion he’d regret later. Some
thing about Sarah Jo knocked him off balance, starting with the unexpected offer coming out of her mouth. Apparently, she wasn’t waiting for his answer, however, because her fingers walked up his neck, found his ear, and just like that he was hard. He definitely wanted to do that again.

  And her. Performing wicked, naughty sex acts on Sarah Jo’s willing body was high on his to-do list right now.

  His backward momentum stopped as she stood on tiptoe, peering over his shoulder and leaning against him while she looked at the building behind him. “You know what’s inside that cabin? Is it open?”

  Typically, his days started and ended with the fire cache housed in the rundown wooden cabin behind them. Forty feet by forty, the one-room cabin was stuffed full of ordered supplies and twelve-packs of tools half-broken into, cardboard boxes and piles, piles, and more piles. When he’d opened the cache at the start of the summer, someone had gone crazy with an ancient label-maker, sticking precisely lettered strips of black-and-white everywhere, although no amount of labels could corral the mess of Pulaskis and axes, sleeping bags and hard hats. Everything had been ordered in by the caseload and in multiples—and then left to explode everywhere.

  “Supplies,” he growled out, maneuvering her a little closer and liking how her hips fit against him. No, supply depot was definitely too fancy a term for what lay inside that cabin. More like dumping ground and organizational nightmare . Maybe, if there were fewer fires, he’d give a damn. And maybe pigs would fly.

  “So it’s empty.”

  If you counted metal shelves crammed with crap empty, then, yeah.

  “Let’s go in.” He didn’t know how she made three words sound so suggestive.

  She was also taking charge again, not waiting for his answer. Apparently, his body didn’t mind one bit. No, on the contrary, his dick jumped right to attention and his feet moved. She sure was sexy. Her hands slapped against his shoulders, pushing him faster because she was impatient. His back hit a wall and he put a hand down, feeling around the rough timbers for the doorknob. She took charge of that, too, reaching around him and pushing the door open. So much for locking up the good stuff.

  Sarah Jo shoved the door open and pushed Dade inside. Okay, so he went. Willingly. Apparently, she was up for a repeat of yesterday’s kiss. He’d tried asking what was wrong—because, clearly, something out there in the camp had spooked her good—but she didn’t want words. She’d grabbed him instead, and he was so on board with that plan.

  That had been a damned fine lip-lock, even with an appreciative audience. She’d apparently enjoyed kissing him. He’d been more than a dare and a drive-by kiss. He’d wondered because, frankly, Sam’s stories had said exactly the opposite. That Dade had been a throwaway and a convenient five minutes.

  She two-stepped him deeper into the cabin, her tongue tracing the seam of his lips.

  “Making me work for it, Dade?” She whispered the teasing question against his mouth and he smiled.

  “You’re always welcome, honey.”

  His ass bumped up against a desk shoved along the wall, and that worked for him. He swept one hand beneath him, ignoring the clatter of office supplies biting it. Fine. He’d sign on for pickup detail. Later. Right now, he sat and pulled her between his legs.

  His turn to kiss her.

  She wasn’t making it easy for him here. He didn’t mind the unexpected hookup, but the cabin wasn’t aces in the romance department. Chockablock full of card tables and shelves loaded down with extra handles and oil, wedges and spray paint, the few visible inches of the walls papered with park posters. A graffiti-covered Smokey the Bear kept watch, surrounded by fire road signs and maps bristling with pushpins. Those were souvenirs and victories right there, half covered with flight maps and helicopter schedules. He’d been in here a dozen times, and it had never looked so good as it did now that she was here with him.

  “Sarah Jo,” he said roughly, threading his fingers through her hair. Her name came out half plea, half demand.

  “Don’t talk.” She leaned in closer, her breasts pressing against his chest. No way she could miss his erection.

  She didn’t seem to mind.

  “You don’t want to slow things down?” He hated to ask the question, but some things had to be said. He wanted to strip off her clothes, lay her down on the floor, and go at her despite their potential audience outside the cabin.

  “Not a chance,” she growled. “I’ve decided that life is too uncertain not to take what I want, and you’re first on my list.” She slapped her hands down on the wall behind the desk, pinning his head between her palms. This was new. It was also, he decided, good. The way she looked at him made him feel like the center of the universe.

  She stepped closer still, until she was thigh to thigh with him, her soft to his hard. He groaned and she smiled. Yeah, he wasn’t going to behave. The minute she gave him the green light, he’d be all over her.

  “See?” Humor lit up her eyes even as her fingers found his shoulders and squeezed. “Talking’s over-rated.”

  That gentle squeeze turned into a wicked caress, her hands sliding slowly over his shoulders and urging him close. She wasn’t tall. She had to tip her head back to make eye contact, but there was plenty of light, even with the door shut. He had no idea what she was looking for on his face, but she must have found it, because she smiled again and then her hands were on the move. Running over his shoulders. Down his arms until her fingers tangled with his.

  “Dade.” Her voice, husky with need, sent desire pounding through him. Hell, she made him burn.

  “I’m right here,” he said roughly. “Right where you put me, love.”

  She grinned. “I’ll make sure you don’t mind.”

  She was greedy, her hands roaming over his body like she wanted it all right now. Over his shoulders and down his chest, yanking up his T-shirt and smoothing over his abdomen. Yeah, that was good. She pulled him into her embrace and then he was locked lip to lip with her in a kiss that was impossibly raw and carnal.

  His Sarah Jo didn’t take orders. Or directions, suggestions, or hints. Her tongue stroked his, taking his mouth while her hands roamed a wicked, wicked path. Not that he had any complaints, but there was no way he was getting his before she did. Some things, a gentleman didn’t allow. Fortunately, he was bigger and stronger. He flipped her around, laying her back on the table in one smooth move, pinning her hands.

  “Kisses first.”

  “Dade.” Her voice was all feminine protest, her hands reaching for him.

  He shook his head. “Ladies first.”

  Before she could protest, he dropped to his knees in front of her.

  Dade Johnson kissed his way down her body, a man on a mission. God, she could watch him for hours—and not just because he had one hell of an erection. His new position—going down on her, she thought with delight—let her appreciate the very hard ridge beneath his jeans as he moved lower. The hard length pressed first against her belly, her thigh, then was gone all together. Not good. Her hands caught at him, wanting him back, but he gently brushed her hands away.

  “Uh-huh,” he said. She pushed up, silently demanding more, and he laughed. God, she loved that raspy sound, half amusement, half growl. “You got to trust me.”

  “Now,” she demanded, but there was no hurrying him up. He was as methodical and thorough about this as he was about fighting fire.

  While he explored the soft curve of her tummy—God, she should have bothered more with sit-ups—his hands discovered her breasts and rubbed over the cotton T-shirt, thumbing her nipples in a deliciously rough caress.

  Then finally, finally he was moving all the way down, his head dipping lower as his broad shoulders pushed her thighs apart. She resisted for a moment, not quite certain how far she wanted to take this, but he pushed gently and she gave, leaning up on her elbows, watching him.

  His big hands smoothed the skirt up over her knees and her thighs until the fabric pooled on her belly. “Watch,” he ordered.<
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  She tensed and opened her mouth to say something. She didn’t like orders and she definitely didn’t like not feeling in control. He blew lightly, sending shivers through her; clearly, now wasn’t the time to bring up her issues.

  But he was already smoothing a thumb over her thong, driving her crazy with just that little, light touch. She hadn’t planned this, not until she’d seen the car drive up, and even then she’d been running on instinct and relief. She’d wanted to grab everything she could before her time ran out and her life was game over. Now she was fiercely glad. He wanted this. Wanted her. And her panties were good ones, a sea foam kind of color, the edges trimmed with lace and a perky white bow. The way his eyes darkened when he tore his gaze away and looked up at her, he liked what he saw.

  “Pretty,” he said. “You know how badly I want to get underneath those panties, Sarah Jo?”

  “Tell me.” That was her voice that sounded so breathless and out of control.

  “I’m desperate.” He gave her that truth, along with a wicked grin, as he slid his hands under her ass, lifting her toward his mouth.

  She squirmed. He hadn’t taken the panties off. He was going to make her wait, damn him.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, because at least she could make him answer.

  He looked at her steadily, but his hands didn’t stop lifting. She should have been embarrassed because this wasn’t a good angle for her, but all she could think now was hurry up. Ladies first, he’d said.

  “Wait and see.” He flashed her a grin. “If you still have questions in a minute, I’m not doing this right.”

  She couldn’t hold back her gasp when he covered the center of her panties with his mouth. Oh, God. He was good. He pressed a small, secret kiss she felt deep in her core. He had his palms wrapped around her cheeks, his fingertips tickling the crease between them and when he inhaled, she knew he could smell her. Instead of being embarrassed, though, she was aroused.