It was true, he realized with a start. He wanted to spend time with this woman. Somewhere in their hike across the mountains, he’d lost the urge to get away.
Which meant his resistance to her was crumbling.
And that put him in more danger than any fire.
Chapter 12
So he’d let himself become vulnerable to Jordan.
Cade battled through the thick mountain brush, that thought mired in his mind. Despite his defenses, she’d managed to suck him back in, luring him with her seductive warmth, that sense of caring. Tempting him with that relentless heat that flared whenever she was in sight.
He locked his jaw against the need to believe her. So what if she seemed sincere? He’d trusted her before, and she’d run off. Was she any more reliable now? Or was she only setting him up for another fall?
Did it matter? They weren’t married anymore. They wouldn’t need to see each other once they got off this mountain.
He blinked away the sweat stinging his eyes, and sighed. Yeah, it mattered. For some damn reason he couldn’t let go of that woman or purge her from his heart. She’d worked herself so deeply into his soul that nothing could pry her loose.
But he couldn’t dwell on that now, couldn’t let himself get distracted, not with the fire this close. He’d wade through his relationship with Jordan when they were safe.
And hope to God that by then, he could bash some sense into his brain.
He checked his watch, and the unease that had haunted him all day twisted his nerves. Even at their slow pace, they should be close to that spur ridge by now. They’d been hiking for hours.
And he felt every second of it. A jackhammer shrilled in his skull. Hunger gnawed deep in his gut. His shoulder burned so badly that nausea swelled up his throat.
And if he felt this weak, he couldn’t imagine how Jordan kept moving. That ankle had to be killing her by now. And they still had miles to go, hours battling through steep, brushy terrain with that damn fire heating their steps.
He just hoped to God that she could make it.
He forged a path around a thick stand of huckleberry bushes and a gust of smoke-tinged wind brushed his face. He looked up, his chest heaving, and glimpsed a slice of sky through the trees. So they’d finally reached the ridge. The tension squeezing his gut slacked. Maybe now he could get a visual on that fire and figure out the fastest way to the top.
Hurrying now, he burst through the last few pine trees onto a rocky ledge. One glance, and his hopes tanked. He couldn’t see anything that would help him. Douglas fir towered up both sides of the ridge and obscured his view of the clearing. Straight ahead, a smoke bank piled over the valley, shrouding it in gray.
He turned to warn Jordan as she limped out of the trees behind him. “You’d better stay back. There isn’t much room out here.” Beyond him, the rock ledge sheered off abruptly, plunging thirty feet to the trees below.
“All right. Come on, Dusty.” The dog lunged and bucked, spooked by the strong smell of smoke. Hauling hard on the leash, Jordan dragged him back to the trees.
Cade pulled his own attention back to the mountain. He searched the pines on the uphill flank, but they shielded the clearing from view. Across the ridge on the eastern slope, the trees descended to the thick haze below. Between the peaks, the dense smoke pooled around the mountain, its edges fringed with dark charcoal. Further out, it boiled up white and fluffy, like innocent cumulus clouds.
But that fire was anything but harmless. Bright orange flames flicked through the heavy smoke, like the menacing breaths of a dragon. And beneath that thick cover, the blaze moved steadily forward, shaking the valley with an ominous roar.
And he couldn’t tell where it was heading. He dragged his hand over his eyes, rubbing against the sting of burning pine, and wished to hell that his radio worked. He urgently needed an update.
Acknowledging the futility of that wish, he headed back to Jordan. She stared at the smoky valley, her dark 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
