Reburn by Anne Marsh Page B

a ride back to Big Bear with the jumpers who are ready to pack out.”
    The events of the previous day and night seemed like a dream. Logically, she understood that they both had jobs to do—and those jobs were pulling them in separate directions just like that last summer ten years ago. Now wasn’t the time for kisses. Sam needed to go back to his hotshot crew, and she needed to hunker down at the local FBI office and debrief. She’d taken down a domestic terrorist. She’d earned her promotion. So why did she feel so lost? Why couldn’t she stop thinking about last night and about Sam and second chances?
    As they got closer, the noise got louder. Smoke jumpers catcalled and teased one another, filling the air with good-natured cursing and instructions beneath the deafening roar of the tankers overhead. There was fire here, too, but less than what she’d seen yesterday, and none of it had crossed the raw, black line of earth cutting along the edge of the clearing.
    Maybe that was because there had to be—she did a quick headcount—at least ten smoke jumpers digging hard and fast. And damned if the fire wasn’t giving way before their fierce determination. If sheer strength of will could put out flames, these boys had this fire contained.
    When Sam pushed through the brush and approached, they slapped him on the back, nodded their heads towards her, and kept on digging. Like two more people popping out of a wildfire was just par for the course and nothing mattered more than that line in the dirt.
    Sam headed straight for the big-ass man at the end of the line. “You got room for one more on your next pickup?”
    The jumper directed a curious look towards her. “Sure. But who’s your new friend?”
    “You got a new dating service out here in the bush?” The man cutting line next to the first jumper eyed her and smiled, a slow, hot smoky smile that should have been illegal—and that definitely should have made her feel something. But nope. Nada. The man was a walking ad for naughty, even two days into the job, and she didn’t care. For a moment, she panicked, but she knew the reason for her don’t-give-a-damn was standing next to her. She only had eyes for Sam Clayton and that was the real problem.
    Mr. Tall, Golden, and Sexy continued his play, sending her another bone-melting grin. “’Cause, if that’s so, you got to sign me up. She’s way better looking than this lot.”
    “Special Agent Albert.” Sam nodded towards the big smoke jumper and then at the man cutting line next to him. “Evan Donovan. Rio Donovan.”
    Fleetingly, she wondered how two such polar opposites could be brothers. In the end, she supposed it didn’t matter. God help the female population. Both of them were well-built men who clearly knew a thing or two about working with their hands. They’d make most women wonder what they’d be capable of in their downtime. In bed. On the floor. Hell, in their fire engine. If a woman was going to fantasize, she might as well go all the way.
    “Ma’am.” Evan’s large hand swallowed hers. Hell. He might be built like a linebacker, but his grip was careful. A quick close-and-release before she even had time to worry that he might accidentally crush her fingers.
    He turned to Sam. “They’re looking for her on the radio. Boys she’s riding with are anxious to have her back.”
    “Right here,” she said and Sam laughed.
    “Yeah. Sorry.” Evan smiled ruefully and waved towards the middle of the field. “Bird’s inbound now and will be here in five. Take a seat in the departure lounge and we’ll be boarding soon.”
    Sam led her over to join a group of five jumpers waiting on the other side of the clearing. It certainly wasn’t like waiting for United Airlines to load a plane. The jumpers lounged on the ground, using their packs as impromptu seats. They looked bone-weary, dirty, and smoky as they swapped war stories about fires fought and one-upped each other. The flames, she noted,