eyes huge in her pale face, her smooth jaw slack with fear.
His gut fisted in recognition. He’d seen that same look on the faces of rookies making their first jump from the plane.
And sometimes, a rookie was so damned scared that he froze in the door, unable to make himself leap. That ended his days as a smokejumper.
But unlike the rookies, they didn’t have a backup plan out here. A jump ship wouldn’t whisk them back to the base if Jordan balked. They had to get themselves to that clearing.
Which meant he needed to calm her down fast. He strode the final distance to the tree line. “Let’s take a break and have some water,” he said, his tone even. “I could use a rest, and you need to get your weight off that ankle.”
Her eyes still wide, she yanked her gaze from the smoke. “But do we have time?”
“A few minutes, anyways.” They couldn’t stay long, but a brief rest might settle her nerves.
A line furrowed her forehead, but she nodded. “All right. I still have that orange if you want it.”
“Sure, as long as you can peel it. I don’t think I’d do too well with my teeth.”
As he’d hoped, she managed a thin smile, then settled beside him in the parched grass.
“How does the fire look?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“According to the forecast, it should stay on the other ridge, at least until tonight.” But anything could happen. And if all hell broke loose, he needed her to keep a cool head.
She looped the makeshift leash around her leg and under her hip to secure it. The dog paced nervously, then abruptly dropped to her side.
“How’s your ankle?” he asked.
“Fine.” Her lips tightened, and the skin around her eyes pinched. “How’s your shoulder?”
He slanted his head. “About as fine as your ankle.” He handed her his canteen.
Their gazes caught, and she smiled, an amazingly brave smile that sparked laughter deep in her eyes.
And suddenly, the tension around them eased, and that connection seeped into his blood, that friendship that felt as comfortable as his worn-in smokejumper boots.
Maybe that was why they hadn’t talked much when they’d been married. Because just being together felt so damned good.
A blush rose along her cheeks, and she looked away. Wisps of dark, silky hair curled around her chin and tumbled over her shoulders as she raised the canteen to her mouth.
And he wondered how many hours he’d spent just like this, watching her, entranced by her beauty and grace. Absorbed by every detail about her, from the lush, dark lashes fringing her molten eyes to the sensual way that she moved.
She finished drinking, then pulled the dog’s bowl from her bag with her gentle hands, filled it and set it down. Still shaking, the dog rose and lapped the water.
She took another gulp from the canteen and gave it back. “Thanks.” Her soft lips curved again, and the movement made his body hum. Then she pulled the orange from the bag and peeled it.
He inhaled, forcing air to his mesmerized brain, and eased it back out. She hypnotized him, all right, emptying his head so he couldn’t think straight. But for both their sakes, this wasn’t the time to lose focus.
He forced his gaze to the burning valley. The fire appeared to be heading north, with the main thrust on the opposite peak. But the haphazard wind gusts could still spark spot fires in any direction. And he wouldn’t see them beneath the thick haze of smoke.
“I hope you didn’t leave anything important in that Jeep,” he said.
She shot him a startled look. “You think the fire got it?”
“Maybe. It’s hard to say with the wind shifting back and forth. But I’d guess it jumped the river and is making a hard run over the mountain.”
A small line creased her forehead and she frowned out at the swirling smoke. After a moment, she brought her gaze back to his. “That means our cabin’s gone, too.”
“Yeah.” Their gazes held.
And without warning, the air between them hung still, held immobile by the weight of the past. And memories piled up, images of when they’d been happy. Of Jordan smiling, her brown eyes gleaming with laughter. Of Jordan naked, her beautiful face taut with desire. His rapture at being with the one person on earth who met his needs.
The pine trees moaned overhead, and a stark emptiness seeped through his gut, a feeling of loss. Not for the cabin. Anyone could rebuild that. And new pine trees would eventually replace the burned ones, filling in the black.
No, the loss struck deeper, sharper, as if, with the cabin, a time of his life had vanished. And that seemed more final than the divorce.
He watched a series of similar emotions flicker across her face-pain and loss, regret. And suddenly, he saw beyond his bitterness to the truth in her dark eyes. “So you did care.”
“Yes.” Her whisper sent heat to his chest. “Of course I cared. God, I loved you so much.”
But then why the hell had she left?
“Cade, I-” She lifted her hand, then closed her mouth and shook her head.
She didn’t continue, and he sucked in a breath. The acrid smoke burned his lungs and pulled him back to the present. The fire. Their survival. That last steep stretch to the clearing.
This wasn’t the time to ask questions and rehash their past. He would figure all that out later, after that chopper airlifted them out.
When he had time to demand some answers.
She gave him a section of orange and cleared her throat. “So, it’s a good thing we switched directions.”
“Yeah.”
“But is it…Can the fire-”
“I doubt it.” He hated to lie, but she didn’t need him fueling her fears. “But I don’t really know,” he added, compelled to be honest. “The way this wind’s shifting, anything can happen.”
He swallowed the orange, took a deep slug of water and handed her back the canteen. Thinking hard now, he strode to the ledge to plot their course. To get to the clearing, they had to continue climbing up the south face of the mountain. The trek would be steep and slow, especially with Jordan’s sore ankle.
What bothered him was that he couldn’t see around the spur ridge. With the tall trees blocking his view, he couldn’t see where they needed to go. And if a finger of flame crept off the front and ignited this side…
Dread cramped his gut, and he tamped down the slither of fear. If only he could crank up that radio. He needed an update from dispatch, or for one of those tanker pilots to relay the view from the sky.
But his batteries were dead, and he couldn’t call, which meant they had to keep hiking. They didn’t have a choice. It was their only way off this mountain.
But he’d damn well better find an escape route in case that fire blew up. And with all the unburned fuel in this forest, he didn’t know how he’d manage that. They needed a burned-out section, another rock slide, something that fire would skirt around. And he hadn’t seen anything like that for miles.
He strode back to Jordan. She scrambled to her feet, her eyes locked on his. “Are you ready?” she asked, her voice quivering.
“Yeah.” He lifted their bags while she wrapped the leash around her fist and picked up her stick.
His gaze met hers again when she straightened. “We’re going to keep angling up the mountain. We’ll zigzag to make it easier, but it’s probably going to be steep. We need to get around to the south side where that clearing is.”
“I understand.”
Worry lurked in her dark chestnut eyes, along with fear. And he knew that she really did understand. This was it. They might not have another chance to talk. If that fire blasted up this mountain, they’d be running for their lives.
“Cade,” she whispered. Her beautiful eyes tugged at his heart.
“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
