Feisty Firefighters Bundle

by Jill Shalvis

  “Yeah.” Unable to resist, he reached out and ran his thumb over her soft cheek. The smooth skin blazed through his nerves, swamping him with sensations, like a gentle voice calling him home.

  Her thick, dark lashes shadowed her creamy cheeks as her gaze fell to his mouth. A shiver rose on his skin, and then the world seemed to stop, as if binding them together one last time.

  And suddenly, he needed to kiss her, to touch her. To feel that soothing warmth deep in his soul.

  As if reading his mind, she inched closer. He angled his head as she closed her eyes, and he slid his lips over hers. He tasted her sultry heat, her delicate sweetness, and felt her gentle breath mingle with his, just as he had a thousand times before and wanted to again.

  She trembled against him and her quiet sigh called to his heart. To the part in him that yearned for her comfort, her love.

  He cupped her smooth jaw with his good hand and tilted her head up to his. Then he deepened the kiss, moving past comfort into need. Surrendering to the male instincts that pulsed in his blood.

  She lifted her hand to his neck, and her gentleness made his heart swell. God, he’d missed her. He’d burned for her, ached for her, during all those lonely nights.

  She was sweet and warm, and the sexiest woman he’d ever known. One look, one touch, and urgency ripped through his veins.

  She’d clawed so deep into his heart that even after all these years, he couldn’t let her go.

  But he had to. They had to get moving. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss, then watched as her eyes inched open and her smoldering gaze lifted to his. Desire blurred her eyes, and something more. His heart jerked in recognition.

  “Cade,” she said, her voice wobbling. She swallowed and her throat muscles moved. “I…I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Yeah.” So was he. And he’d figure that out later.

  “And I need to tell you, about when I left. I should have told you before, but I-”

  “Hey.” He smoothed a strand of hair from her cheek. “We’ll talk about it later, okay? After we get on that chopper.”

  “But…” Her luminous eyes searched his. “We might not…What if we don’t-”

  “We’ll make it,” he said. He kept his gaze steady on hers. “I promise.”

  Her forehead creased, and her eyes clouded. She opened her mouth, as if she intended to argue, but then she closed it again. “All right. But you need to know. No matter what you think, I never meant to hurt you.”

  Her eyes pulled at him, urging him to trust her, and he felt his final resistance slip. His lungs swelled tight. His breath jammed up. And God help him, but he believed her. No matter what she’d done in the past, he knew she was telling the truth.

  The dog darted between their legs just then, and she looked down, breaking the spell. Cade sucked in the smoky air and stepped back. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” She managed a tremulous smile, and his heart puffed up. And for the first time, he let himself hope. For what, he didn’t know. But suddenly, he had more reasons than just the fire to hurry to that clearing.

  Please don’t stop, Jordan pleaded silently. She tugged on the leash to get the dog moving again, then scrambled up the slope behind Cade. It was bad enough that she was slowing them down with her bad ankle. If Cade discovered that the dog kept balking, he’d insist that she let him go.

  Not that she blamed Dusty for wanting to rest. She’d passed exhaustion miles ago. She plodded along, dazed and dizzy, her muscles trembling, planting one blistered foot in front of the other, stumbling over rocks and branches, just praying that she would stay upright.

  And her ankle! A wild moan rose in her throat. She’d managed to hide it from Cade, but the fierce pain roiled through her nerves, making her clammy and nauseous. Leaning on the stick helped her foot, but the pressure had worked her palm raw. She didn’t know how she could make it to that clearing.

  But she had to. Anxiety pulsed at the base of her skull, threatening to overwhelm her. She’d seen Cade’s expression back at the ridge. He’d covered it with his soothing tone, but she knew his nuances well.

  He doubted that they would make it.

  Because she was slowing them down.

  Determined to move even faster, she ignored the punishing pain, and hobbled over a rotting log. Smoke snaked through the trees like a sinister fog, heightening the tension twisting her nerves. And the blasted dog kept lunging and jerking against the leash, trying to bolt downhill.

  She yanked hard on the belt to keep him going, then straightened when Cade turned back. He tilted his head and watched her, those blue eyes shrewd beneath his hard hat. “How are you holding up?”

  “Great.” She flashed her teeth and sucked in her breath, struggling not to limp.

  Those sharp eyes narrowed. “Let me know if you need to stop.”

  “Right.” As if they could spare the time.

  “It shouldn’t be far,” he added. “The trees are starting to thin, which means we’re near the top.” He continued to study her, and she feared he’d insist that she rest. But then a breath of smoke drifted past, and he flattened his lips and turned back.

  He hiked several feet ahead of her, his hard hat swiveling as he scanned the terrain. He paused occasionally to pick up some sticks, then resumed his relentless trek.

  Jordan trudged along, her gaze focused on Cade’s rugged frame, and the guilt she’d been battling surged back. Not just because he was working so hard, and her slow pace could cost them their lives.

  No, her remorse struck deeper, darker, to those long, guilty years she’d stayed silent. To the truth that he needed to know. She should have told him about the baby back at the ridge. So what if they hadn’t had time? She could have blurted it out.

  But she’d been selfish. She’d wanted time to defend herself, to explain. And, just maybe, to forge a relationship for the future.

  Could they try again? He turned slightly to look up the mountain, and she studied the hard planes of his face. She loved him; she realized that now. She had never stopped.

  But even if he forgave her, could she tolerate his lifestyle? Could she cope with him always being gone? Or would they only argue again?

  Because she sure couldn’t change who he was.

  Anxiety churned through her chest, along with a deep sense of doom. Oh, God. She couldn’t think about it. Not now. She hissed in a shaky breath.

  Ahead of her, Cade paused and consulted his compass, then angled higher uphill. The trees were sparser now, with dry brush and grass covering the exposed slope. And it seemed quieter suddenly, more still. Or maybe the blood surging in her ears drowned the noises out.

  Suddenly, Dusty stopped again. Shaken from her reflections, Jordan stumbled, staggered to regain her balance, and jerked on the leash. But this time, the dog wouldn’t follow. Instead, he turned and tried to run downhill.

  “Stop!” Gasping against the pain lashing her ankle, she planted her feet and leaned back. He lunged, and she widened her stance. “Stop!” she cried again. She wasn’t losing him this time. She gritted her teeth and hung on.

  “What’s the matter?” Cade called back.

  “I don’t know.” Dusty looked frantic now, thrashing and twisting to get free. “He’s trying to go back downhill.”

  “Oh, hell. Stay here.”

  “What?” Still fighting for control of the leash, she swiveled to look at Cade. He sprinted ahead and disappeared, and a sudden fear lashed her heart. He wasn’t abandoning her. Cade would never do that. She couldn’t imagine him running away.

  But then, where was he going? What was wrong? She turned her gaze back to the dog.

  Behind her, a wind sprang up, ruffling her neck and standing her hair on edge. A sound rose from around the mountain, a muffled rumbling, like the distant sound of a train. It grew louder, closer. Every nerve in her body tensed.

  And suddenly, she understood. The fire. Oh, God. She gaped at the wild-eyed dog, his behavior now making sense. The fire had caught th
em. They weren’t going to reach that clearing. They were trapped!

  Her knees trembled violently. Panic surged, and a loud throbbing pulsed in her head like an earthquake rocking her brain. She dithered, shuffling back and forth, her muscles stalled, not knowing which way to go. Raw fear clawed at her throat.

  And then Cade came sprinting back, his legs pumping wildly, his face more intense than she’d ever seen. He skidded to a stop beside her, swung the bags to the ground and dropped to one knee.

  “We have to burn an escape route,” he shouted. He threw back the flap on his PG bag and yanked out some long red sticks.

  The roar behind them grew louder, thundering through her skull, and the air around them started to shake. Her brain blanked, and she panted, unable to breathe. Her nerves zapped her muscles like the strings on a marionette.

  “Help me light the fusees,” Cade shouted again. “We have to burn off the grass.”

  A huge, black ball of smoke roiled through the trees and Dusty pawed to get free. The ground shuddered. Pines swayed. And a huge rush drummed through the air.

  “Pull off the tabs and strike them.” Cade held out the foot-long sticks.

  She gawked at him, part of her brain noting his desperation. He couldn’t manage with just one hand.

  But she needed to run. Flee! Panic gripped her throat. Frenzied, she jerked her gaze to the slope above her. She had to climb up there and get away.

  “We can’t outrun it,” he shouted. “It’s too fast. You have to-”

  Thunder shook the air, drowning out what he wanted to say. She looked at him again, her breath puffing in frantic gasps, her mind completely blank.

  His mouth was moving. His eyes beseeched her. He was pleading with her, begging her, but she couldn’t hear him, even from two feet away.

  Then the fire burst through the trees and she screamed. It was here! Sucking and burning, boiling and streaming, billowing and swirling their way.

  Oh, God. She had to run. She needed to leave, escape!

  No! Her conscience stalled her. She had to stay and help Cade.

  She pulled her gaze to his and saw his urgency, his need. He needed her. He always had.

  She let out a strangled sob. And no matter what, she couldn’t leave him. She’d abandoned him once before; she’d run away when her fears had swamped her, and she wouldn’t do it again.

  God help her, but no matter what the cost, she wouldn’t quit on him this time.

  Shaking wildly, fighting every instinct she had to bolt, she forced her feet not to move.

  Her palms sweating, her heart quaking, she snagged the leash on her belt loop to keep the dog close, and somehow secured the buckle.

  Then she lifted her gaze to Cade’s. She saw emotions flash through his eyes, relief and respect, and something else. Pride. For her. Her heart dipped, then ballooned in her chest.

  Her gaze locked on his, she reached out and grabbed a fusee.

  Chapter 13

  Her heart careening against her rib cage, her hands trembling harder than a leaf in a windstorm, Jordan ripped the tab off the fusee and yanked her gaze back to Cade. “What now?” she yelled.

  She knew he couldn’t hear her. Behind them, the fire thundered like a screeching jet plane. But he jerked his head, indicating he’d understood. Moving quickly, he set down his flarelike fusees, grabbed one of the sticks he’d collected, then jammed it into the bottom of the fusee she held.

  Understanding now, she helped cram the stick tighter into the flare. The stick extended the length of the fusee, serving as a primitive handle.

  Her admiration surged. No wonder Cade had collected the sticks. He’d been preparing for this moment, watching for signs that the fire would blow up, planning ways they could survive.

  Gratitude slashed through her fear, along with a swell of determination. Cade had done everything for her. Now she had to do her part. She couldn’t let him down.

  The wind pushed smoke over their heads again. She coughed, the acrid taste scorching her lungs, and shot a frantic glance toward the crest of the hill. Thick, dark clouds mushroomed up from the fire and billowed toward them. Bright orange flames whipped high and flicked through the rolling smoke.

  Her skin prickling, her heart quailing, she blocked out the horror and focused on Cade. He grabbed the tab from her hand and peeled back the paper, then struck it against the fusee. It sparked, made a hissing sound she sensed, rather than heard above the oncoming roar, and spewed out sulfury smoke.

  He dropped the tab, grabbed the fusee, and held it down to the grass. The parched grass smoked, then flared, sending a vivid orange flame streaking uphill.

  And suddenly, she understood. The main fire wouldn’t go through an area that had already burned. Deprived of new fuel, it would have to skirt around it. So if they burned off the grass and got inside it before the flame front reached them, maybe they could survive.

  But did they have enough time? Her heart rocketing, she glanced at the fire again. The front charged toward them, streaming up through the parched pines, surging and pulsing, and exploding in piercing orange flames. Her nerves quaked, and she panted in shallow breaths. Oh, God. It was so fast, so big. How on earth could they beat it?

  But they had to try. Frantic now, she kicked herself into action. She snatched another fusee from Cade’s pile, rammed a stick extension in it, pulled off the tab, and lit it. She spared another glance at the booming fire, shuddered, then grabbed the remaining fusees and ran after Cade.

  She waved her arm to get his attention, and he motioned to his right. Jerking the leash to keep the dog moving, she rushed along and lit the baked grass. Her nerves hopping, steeling herself against the fear that threatened to freeze her, she tried to block out the horrible roar and concentrate on her job. Fanned by the wind, their small fire raced up the grassy slope, surrounding them in a sea of flames.

  Beside her, the dog twisted and charged in terror, twining around her legs and blocking her path. She grabbed the leash and yanked him out of her way. She didn’t dare cut him loose; he could never outrun the fire. His only chance to survive was to stay with them.

  Her panic building, struggling to control the dog and set the fire, she staggered alongside Cade. The strong sulfur smell of the fusees mixed with the acrid smoke, making her want to retch. She coughed and gagged, then blinked her stinging eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  The fire boomed, and the thundering behind her grew harsher. A sob wedged in her throat, and she lurched faster, desperate to pick up her pace.

  Cade sprinted back just then, his eyes fierce. Moisture streaked down his gaunt cheeks, cutting a path through the grime. He pried his spent fusee off the stick with his boot, and reached for hers.

  She traded with him, grabbing his empty stick in return. While he darted back to burn more grass, she lit another flare.

  Suddenly, a huge swooshing noise pulsed behind her, and, terrified, she swiveled back. A wall of flames raced toward them, twisting high into shocking funnels. Flying embers flashed through the billowing smoke. The fire shot from the trees and exploded into the air.

  Then firebrands rained around them, sparking more grass. Trembling wildly, unsure what to do, she wrenched her gaze back to Cade. She felt paralyzed, frantic, torn in a thousand directions. She had to move, get away from the fire, but she didn’t know where to go.

  Cade turned toward her and yelled something, then motioned urgently with his arm. Understanding slashed through her hysteria. He wanted her to go up.

  Terrified, praying to God that they could escape, she lunged forward and followed Cade across the charred grass. But then the dog abruptly stopped, and Jordan fell to her knees. She landed hard, singeing her palms and knees on the smoldering grass, and immediately surged to her feet. She jerked hard on the leash, but Dusty refused to budge.

  Panicked, she yanked on the leash again, but the dog only hunkered down. A frenzy rose inside her. They had to run. The fire was nearly here!

  A blast of hot win
d swirled smoke from the blackened grass and into her face. Fueled by fear and adrenaline, every nerve in her body screaming to flee, she tossed aside her fusee, hoisted the quivering dog to her hip and darted after Cade.

  A thought skittered through her brain, warning her that she should feel pain in her ankle and heat from the flames, but the terror jolting her mind blocked it out. She had to run. Run! Her heart pumping madly, her chest heaving, she sawed in air and sprinted uphill.

  Cade charged ahead of her, stooping to torch the dry grass. A hot wind blasted their backs, and their little fire picked up speed, racing up the steep slope. Her vision blurring, her chest searing, Jordan chased the bright line of flames.

  Suddenly Cade tossed aside his spent fusee and turned back. Their eyes met, and for an instant, his vivid blue gaze held hers. She saw his fierce concentration, his focus on the job. Gratitude swept through her, along with the sharp urge to cry. God, this man was brave.

  Then a pounding, swooshing sound rose, and Cade’s eyes flicked to the fire behind them. Her nerves jerking in disjointed spasms, Jordan stopped and turned toward the noise. Before she could look, Cade grabbed her arm and yanked her back into motion.

  She stumbled, trying desperately to keep her balance while lugging the dog, and somehow pulled herself upright. Then she bolted straight up the mountain with Cade, pursuing the fire they’d set. She hauled scorched air into her lungs, breathing in ragged gasps, her throat and raw chest rasping.

  Heat blasted her back, and the fierce roar pounded her skull. She tripped over rocks and uneven ground, over charred and smoking stumps. She pushed herself faster, harder, urgency fueling her steps. Embers flew past, the smoke swirled thicker and her horror grew.

  They weren’t going to make it. They couldn’t possibly get away.

  But they had to. She clutched the shaking dog, frantic not to drop him. He needed her to go on!

  She kept sprinting, her feet pounding, but she could feel her exhaustion mount. She focused on Cade’s strong hand gripping her arm, but still the doubts slithered in. Oh, God. She’d never make it. She was far too weak.