It takes a special kind of hero to be a smoke jumper. To take the greatest risks. To live or die in the raging heat of the moment. And it takes a special kind of woman to love him...Where There's Smoke...
For Jack Donovan, smoke jumping is a way of life. He lives for the adrenaline rush-the thrill of flying over the burning California hills, the intensity of diving straight into the inferno, the glory of taming the forces of nature. Love is a distant ember compared to the feeling he gets fighting fires-until an emergency call from his hometown brings him face to face with the one woman he can't forget...
There's Fire
Lily never got over the handsome rogue who once kissed her senseless-and then left. She vowed she was done with love-'em-and-leave-'em men and small town life. Until a series of malicious fires set by a stalker has her running home to hide. Now, their summer is heating up as Jack fights to save her from the stalker's fiery threats and to convince her to give the passion between them a second chance.
"White hot suspense and a drop dead sexy hero!" -New York Times bestselling author Roxanne St. Claire
Anne Marsh's novels are:
"Smoking hot." -Fiction Vixen
"Sexually charged." -Bookaholics
"Superb." -Midwest Book Review
Chapter One
The DC-3 pulled through the air, heading for the thick, dark plume of smoke boiling up from the park's northeast corner. Early-summer lightning strikes always wreaked havoc out here in Northern California, setting sleeper fires the Forest Service couldn't spot right away. One quick jolt of lightning could shoot an old, dry tree full of electricity and heat, creating a slow burn spotted only when the fire flamed outward to surrounding brush. The spotter crouched by the plane's open door waved him forward, and Jack Donovan moved into position. Feet and arms braced in the open door, fifteen hundred feet of smoky air between him and his target, he had a clear shot down to the small clearing now blossoming with streamers from the plane's previous pass. The red ribbons pulled hard right, so he'd be watching for crosswind.
Overshoot the drop spot, and he'd slam into the ponderosa pines hemming the clearing.
"You ready?" The spotter roared the routine check into his ear. "Watch the drift streamers, and check your chute, or the boys will be fishing you out of the pines when this fire is finished."
"Fuck you." He grinned at the spotter, knowing his face mirrored the other man's exhilaration. He'd be first jumper out the door on what was likely the last jump for his team. Christ. If it hadn't been for that damned phone call, he'd have kept the team here all summer. Money was good, and, so far, there was plenty of fire. All the makings of a good summer.
"On final, fifteen hundred." The pilot's crackling voice warned that the plane was turning, banking to make the pass over the drop site. The pilot was a former jumper himself, and he knew the DC-3 better than he would a lover. Hell, for most of them, the plane and the fires she flew them to had to be better than a lover, because it was the rare woman who'd share her man with the fires season after season. Jack Donovan lived for the adrenaline rush and the adventure. And so did his team.
That team of eight jumpers was now sprawled out behind him. The seats of the plane were long gone, jettisoned to make room for the gear, so his boys had parked their asses on the floor in jump order. Ready to go just as soon as the pilot hit his sweet spot and the spotter signaled.
Protect and defend-that was the team's motto. Work hard, play harder. Fire always came first, but they'd steal a few hearts, love-'em-and-leave-'em in a heated blaze that was deliciously short-lived because they knew-and the women in their arms knew-that these were stolen moments. No
