Cassie Holt was unexpected, Cody thought as he stood in the station’s kitchen and chopped a few last vegetables for his stew. Not only was she unexpected, but she was unnerving in a way Cody couldn’t define.

It had begun on the quick tour he’d given her, during which she’d avoided eye contact and hadn’t asked him any questions. That wasn’t typical of what Cody thought must be reporter behavior. Not only that, he’d caught her glancing at him throughout the day, their eyes meeting and then flashing away just as quickly.

To be fair, he’d been stealing glances at her, too. Not to mention, her fine, firm ass had moved right in front of his face as she climbed into the rig time and time again on calls, and he had the sneaking suspicion by the third time that she was playing it a little bit for his benefit. Of course, he could be mistaken. Probably was.

But then again, each time he’d helped her down from the rig, she’d accepted his offered hand with a light grasp, and that last time he could swear she fell into him on purpose. That she just happened to land with her head in the crook of his shoulder and just happened to tilt her face up toward his as she giggled at her own self-orchestrated clumsiness, and just happened to put her pretty lips within kissing distance—none of it had felt like an accident.

But who was he kidding? A woman like her—big-city, hard-driving, clearly going places—would never fall for a guy like him.

He—to put it bluntly—was not going places. He was an Alaska-forever guy, through and through.

Still, she intrigued him, like a wondrous creature from afar. He looked up from chopping carrots and watched her from across the kitchen. Her cameraman had shown up, and they were filming an interview with Chief Moran, who’d “dropped by” soon after. He’d happily agreed to an interview when Jack cordially suggested it, putting Cassie on the spot, something Cody wouldn’t have done.

She’s so damn cute, he thought. He wasn’t sure if it was okay anymore to call a grown woman cute, but that’s what Cassie Holt was. She was elegant—that had been the first impression he’d had upon seeing her standing at the station’s front door, dressed so professionally and holding her laptop case, trying to add inches to her height through determined good posture alone. She was stuck in flats that day, but he sensed she was the type of woman who preferred wearing heels, the higher the better. Her hair was salon-perfect; her flawless skin glowed; and her teeth were straight and white, probably cosmetically enhanced and definitely made-for-TV. She was classically attractive, no doubt.

But she was cute, too, and the more he spent time with her, the cuter she got. She had a little nose that turned up the tiniest bit, and she was quick to laugh at herself, which had surprised him. Despite being obviously worldly, she’d confessed to wanting to have a hedgehog as a pet someday, and that was just plain adorable.

Cassie was both pretty and cute … and way out of his league.

He turned his back to her and focused on the moose stew. He’d cubed and sautéed the meat earlier, chopped most of the vegetables, added garlic and beef broth and spices, and then left it all in the station’s huge slow cooker for a few hours while they ran more calls, coming back each time to a deepening aroma of the undisputed favorite meal at the station. He hoped Cassie wasn’t a vegetarian because he wanted to impress her with his stew.

She was pert, too, he thought, unable to stop thinking about her. Her nose was pert, her ass was pert, her breasts were pert—and buxom. She was pretty and cute and buxom and pert. Quite a potent combination.

“How’s it going over here, Cody Bradford?”

He jumped. With his back turned and his mind wandering into areas it probably shouldn’t, he’d lost focus on Cassie. Here she was, sidling up to him, peeking into the slow cooker and checking out the stew.

“It smells fantastic,” she said, breathing in the steamy aroma. “What does moose taste like, anyway? Chicken?”

Her grin was ironic as she again poked fun at herself.

“Caribou,” he said un-ironically, knowing that wouldn’t clear up anything for her.

She stood right beside him, watched as he chopped fresh parsley, a late addition to the stew, and elbowed him.

“And what does caribou taste like?”

“Chicken.”

“Cody Bradford!” she exclaimed, and all he wanted was for her to say his name again. “Hey, where’s your frilly pink apron?”

He put a finger to his lips to shush her.

“I’m hoping Sean forgets. I was supposed to wear it the whole time I cooked today.”

She winked at him. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

But as Cody glanced around, Sean was grinning at him from the kitchen table where his tablet was propped open, watching what sounded like a hockey game. Sean raised an imaginary can of beer in an imaginary toast to Cody’s interaction with Cassie.

Cody turned back to her.

“This moose is going to taste a lot like beef,” he said. “If it’s done wrong it can be kind of tough, but this will be tender because it’s been marinating and slow-cooking all day.”

“Do you cook other things, too, or just this stew?” she asked. “Like, are you a guy who cooks?”

“I am a guy who cooks,” he said, watching as she raised her eyebrows, impressed. “When you grow up snowed in all winter, you’ve got lots of time to kill. My dad and I used to prepare these elaborate meals, all with ingredients hunted or gathered. We’d collect recipes from old magazines and stock ingredients all summer so we could tap into them in winter.”

Good times, Cody thought back. In spite of Mom’s issues.

“I can’t even imagine being snowed in and having to cook,” Cassie said. “Right on my block in Manhattan, there were three restaurants and a grocery store.”

“So you’re from New York,” he said. “Why did you come to Alaska?”

A shadow crossed her face. “Long story.”

“I’ve been told I’m a good listener,” Cody said.

“But I’m the one who should be listening to your story. Snowed in? Hunting and gathering? That sounds like … something out of a movie.”

“We’re from different worlds, for sure.”

She studied him. “I bet we’re alike in some ways, though.”

“Oh yeah?” He liked that idea. “How?”

She shrugged, then smiled coyly. “I guess we’ll have to find out.”

* * *

Cody Bradford was a damn fine cook, Cassie thought as she sat at the long table with all eight firefighters and dug into the moose stew. It had tender pieces of meat, chunks of potatoes, carrots, onion, and rutabaga, in a thick soup so rich that it wouldn’t be out of place in a fine French restaurant.

She wasn’t just impressed with his cooking. Cody was a damn fine specimen of a human being, too. They all were, these firefighters, and she wondered what they’d been fed as boys to grow into such strongly chiseled men. She thought there was more masculinity at that table alone than in all of New York City.

Not much talking went on as they ate bowl after bowl of stew. Cassie had always been a slow eater, but the guys ate fast, and she surmised they did so in case a call came in. The ebb and flow of their day was similar to her own in the newsroom, wherein you could only plan your day so much. News happened whether or not it was convenient.

She liked being in their midst, sitting at the table with them. She had simultaneous feelings of intimidation by their strong presence, yet reassurance by the sense of courtesy they’d shown her all day long. She felt protected, too, in a way she never had before. Not until her stalker had made himself known had she realized that could be something she wanted in her life. Any of these guys would risk their life to save hers, and she sensed it wasn’t just because of their job, but because of the kind of men they were.

Besides the Engine One crew—Cody’s crew—Cassie had been introduced to the firefighters of Ladder One: the captain, Tom Steele; the engineer, a skinny, friendly guy named Nate Halstead; and the two firefighters, Josh Barnes and Troy Garrett. Troy, it was explained, was temporarily in the spot belonging to a firefighter/paramedic currently deployed overseas with the Army.

“So how long are you staying with us tonight, Cassie?” Jack Barnes asked toward the end of dinner. “And what more do you need from us?”

“Everything’s been great,” she said. “We got good footage today, and everybody was so helpful when I asked questions about the job. I think I have just about everything I need, except … well … I think I need more Cody.”

Cody hung his head to hide his red face while the other guys roared with laughter. She’d known they would, and she hoped Cody wasn’t too embarrassed by her declaration. Just a little, she hoped. Cody had such a quiet gravity that she had an irrepressible urge to throw him off guard. Every smile she’d gotten from him had felt well-earned; she’d had to work for them, and she wasn’t used to that.

“What I meant,” she said when the laughter died down, “is I want to get a better sense of who he is outside of work. I feel like I have a good handle on the fire station and how it runs and how you all work together, but I need an anchor for my story, someone to thread through the narrative. So a quick interview with him, Captain, and I’ll be on my way.”

“Take your time,” said Jack. “Since he cooked, he’s off cleaning duty, so Cody’s all yours.”

This time Cassie was the one who hung her head. The idea of Cody being all hers—physically, anyway—was a deliciously dangerous thought. She hadn’t planned on dating at all in Golden Falls, but not dating meant no sex, and if Cody was by some crazy chance interested and willing … she could already tell that turning down sex with him would be damned near impossible. His rock-hard body begged to be explored—or maybe she had that backwards. She wasn’t the begging sort, but the idea of his lips on hers, followed by those lips moving across the rest of her … yep, begging was not off the table. Please fuck me, Cody, was not out of the realm of possibility of things she’d whisper in his ear, given the opportunity.

But how to get that opportunity?

You’re clever, she thought. Figure it out.

She stood. “Can we go talk, Cody?”

She started to clear her plate, but Sean was quick to stop her, saying she was a guest and to let the rest of them do it. As she and Cody went to the living room, she again grew self-conscious, and her heart pounded like she was a preteen with her very first crush. She brought out her reporter’s notebook, pen, and a digital recorder, which she held up to show him.

“Do you mind? This is just for my own notes to make sure I get everything right.”

He looked at the recorder with a quirked eyebrow. “If you must.”

She smiled. In her world, it was hard to know the truth about a person sometimes—politicians lied by nature, PR people had a spin to everything, and everyone wanted to put their best self forward. But Cody just didn’t care. He was refreshingly, unapologetically himself, and she liked that.

They sat in recliners. Cassie turned on the recorder and set it on the thick arm of the chair. The recorder was a top-of-the-line device with a great range, which allowed her to set it to the side. Her interview subjects usually forgot all about it within minutes, and then they were more forthcoming.

“So, Cody.” She gave him what she hoped was a winning smile. “What do I still need to know about you?”

Favorite position in bed …

Size of your …

Naughty, she chastised herself.

“It depends,” Cody said. “What do you want to know about me?”

Everything. Every damn thing.

A brash New Yorker by birth and upbringing, she was used to going after what she wanted and getting it, men included. But Cody was a different breed than the men she’d sought out before, and she wasn’t sure the direct approach was the way to go with him. She wanted to ask if he had a girlfriend, and to know what he liked in a woman, and did he have any interest in her at all? Did she, a city girl in every way, stand a chance with an Alaska man like him? But any one of those questions might shut him down. Or scare him off.

With Cody it might be better to start slow. To stay on safe ground. To reel him in like a fish on a line, not that she’d ever done that before or had any idea how.

“Did you always know you wanted to be a firefighter?” she asked.

“Not really,” he said. “I guess I just fell into it.”

“How does somebody just fall into it?”

“Well,” he said, and paused. She could tell he was sizing her up, deciding whether to blow off her questions and give her the minimum acceptable answer or whether he should take her and her questions seriously. Take me seriously, she thought, and he nodded as if he’d gotten her message.

“Well, I grew up north of here, in a town called Bettles.” He smiled slightly. “Population of nine.”

“Only nine thousand people? That’s tiny!”

“Not nine thousand. Just nine.”

Cassie knew her mouth had dropped open comically, and Cody laughed.

“Why on earth were you there?” she asked.

“My dad worked for the National Park Service. He was head ranger at Gates of the Arctic. We lived there year-round—they probably would have let him go south for the winters, but he loved it there. So did I. As soon as I was old enough, twelve or thirteen, I started helping him with stuff—if a bear was harassing campers, or someone got lost, that kind of thing. You get a good feeling from doing good, you know? I guess firefighting felt like a natural fit.”

“Did you go into it right away, when you were eighteen?”

“No, I was an ice trucker for a couple years, running supplies up to the North Slope. It was great money, but a hell of a job. I couldn’t take it more than a few seasons. By that time, my folks had moved down to the Lower Forty-Eight, and I moved here.”

“Why Golden Falls?”

“I grew up coming here,” he said. “It was the closest big city to Bettles, so—”

“Big city.” Cassie laughed. “It’s only got thirty thousand people!”

“That’s big enough for me,” he said. “We used to come here for shopping trips, for the doctor and dentist, that sort of thing. I like Golden Falls. If you have to be in a city, this one’s all right.”

“It is nice,” Cassie admitted. “I mean, it’s nothing like New York, but—”

“Thank goodness for that.”

“Have you ever been?”

“No way,” he said. “It’s all I can do to force myself to go to Anchorage every now and then. I feel really closed in there. Like a duck in a shooting gallery with all the buildings.”

“Sean said you were a hermit.”

“I’m not, really.” His bright blue eyes bore into hers. “I’m just alone a lot.”

The way he said it made her kind of sad.

“By choice?”

“More like by circumstance.” He shrugged. “It’s just the way it is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you can’t even get cell reception where I live,” he said. “And there’s no internet access. Not many women are going to put up with that. Even local girls need their WiFi these days.”

“So why don’t you move in closer?”

“Because I love it out there. It’s my ten acres of heaven.”

“You wouldn’t even give it up for a woman?”

“I guess that remains to be seen. If I loved her, maybe. I’ve got to be true to myself before I can be true to someone else.” He gave her a thoughtful look. “How about you? Would you ever drastically change your life for a guy?”

“I already have,” Cassie said, thinking of Stalker Doug and his dangerous obsession that had forced her out of the only place she’d ever called home.

Cody leaned forward, close to her, elbows on his knees. Cassie could feel him studying her, trying to figure her out.

“Was it worth it?” he asked.

Cassie’s breath caught. She hungered for him to kiss her. She knew he wouldn’t—not here, not now. The other firefighters were keeping their distance, but their presence was palpable. And with the conversation taking a turn for the personal, she turned off the voice recorder.

“That remains to be seen,” she said, echoing him.

“Are you seeing someone now?” he said. “Did you move here with someone?”

She shook her head, pleased he was asking.

“Did you leave someone behind?”

“Not in the way you think.”

HIs eyes twinkled. “You think you know me well enough to know how I think?”

“Fair enough,” she said. “I guess I don’t.”

His smile felt like an invitation. Or maybe she just wanted it to feel that way, because she had enough for her interview and the thought of walking out the fire station door and never seeing him again made her heart hurt.

“But I’d like to,” she added. “What would you think about showing me around?” She cursed the nervous squeak in her voice. “You could show me how real Alaskans spend their time. I’ve got a lot to learn, and I’m sure my news director would appreciate my learning sooner rather than later.”

“I could do that.” Cody grinned at the idea. “I could give you a whole series of Alaska lessons.”

“Yes! Alaska lessons!” Cassie’s heart jumped more at the idea of seeing him again than getting the lessons, although she was sure they’d be fun, too. “What kind of things would you teach me?”

“I’ll give it some thought. You leave it to me.”

Cody in charge. It was a tantalizing thought.

“Okay,” she agreed.

“Alaska lessons,” he mused, and Cassie felt him taking in her pearl earrings, her Gucci loafers, her expensive outfit. “I’ve got to warn you—whatever we do, it’ll be dirty.”

Oh, now that’s just asking for it.

“Trust me, Cody,” she said. “I can do dirty.”