Chase groaned as he sagged down into his usual chair in the station meeting room. Garrett Wyld, his usual meeting neighbor, reached over to elbow him in the ribs.

"Easy, Wyld!" Chase swapped his mug of coffee to the other hand to keep from spilling any more. Even the shitty station coffee was a precious commodity on a chilly Alaska morning like this.

Garrett just chuckled and shook his head. "Something tells me I'm not the uneasy one. Why the long sigh, Kingston? You get lucky last night?"

Nearby squad members turned their heads, suddenly interested in the exchange. Chase took a sip of his coffee to avoid answering outright. It was a calculated risk, and he lost out—the brew was still hot as hell, even hotter than the blaze at the squad's last house call. He avoided an outward grimace and paid the price as the fluid scalded his tongue and seared his throat.

"Maybe," he said enigmatically. At least his poor abused tongue could still deliver the proper air of mystery . . . despite the cloak of mystery getting whisked aside in the next moment.

"You fucking dog." One of the senior squad members punched his other shoulder, and when Chase switched his coffee from hand to hand this time, he was grinning.

"Ah, to be young!" another lamented.

Chase just shook his head. He had aged out of bragging about his conquests, but he wasn't above receiving the heaped congratulations his reputation still earned him. He just wished he could remember the name of the gal he’d taken home last night . . . not that it made the least bit of difference. She had shipped in on a cruise liner out of Seattle and had already moved on to the next town by now. It had been fun, plain and simple, and that was how he preferred it. He'd show another sexy tourist the sights—and help her keep her bed warm—before the week was out.

The door blew open, and every head turned from Chase as the fire chief entered. Chase may have been the life of the party, but even he knew he was no match for the big boss himself.

"Listen up." Hank Logan crossed to the desk at the front of the room and tossed his clipboard down. He leaned back against the table and crossed his burly arms. Chase leaned forward despite himself. He had never seen Hank's clipboard get the table treatment so early in a meeting. His chief wasn't even looking to it as a reference now. He was looking straight into the faces of his men.

Something was up.

"New assignment," Hank told them. "I'm taking a volunteer contingent down to California. Cedar Springs, to be exact. She's a small town that’s used to the wildfires this time of year passing her by. This latest fire reared up over the past few days.” Hank nodded as if to himself. “Still fairly tame, so it's a control job to help the local squads keep it from spreading anywhere populated. Low risk, but that doesn't mean it won't be dangerous." Hank surveyed the crew’s faces once more. Chase suppressed the urge to look at Garrett. "A call for supplementary support passed across my desk this morning," Hank continued, "and I agreed to it. I want to take some men with me down south. Like I said, it's all voluntary."

"I'm in," Chase blurted. No one seemed surprised that he was the first.

"Could be weeks," Hank noted. "Maybe even months. Think the pretty tourists who disembark down at the port can spare you?"

Chase rocked back in his chair and flipped up the bill of his cap with a grin. "They're going to have to."

"If Kingston's going, then so am I," Garrett volunteered. "Can't let you boys have all the fun!”

Hank nodded. "Anyone else?"

The shouted affirmations came quickly after that. As Hank's offer sank in, every member of the squad suddenly realized that he or she could use a little extra Vitamin D. Once the contingent had filled out, they were dismissed. Chase rose, still grinning, and left at the head of the class. His pulse raced with equal parts caffeine and excitement for what his summer now had in store. Still, one question lingered in his mind.

"Cedar Springs," he said aside to Garrett as they headed for the locker room. "Why does the name sound familiar?"

"I was wondering that myself, and then I remembered," Garrett said as he pulled open his locker. "Cedar Springs is Chief's hometown."

"How the hell do you know a thing like that?" Hank almost never talked about himself. He left the airing of intimate anecdotes to . . . well, to people like Chase.

Garrett shrugged. "He mentioned it once to me when we went out for a drink."

"Bet you he has a childhood sweetheart stashed away down there," Chase said.

Garrett snorted his disbelief. "I'll take that bet." They shook on it, then locked eyes. Chase could see his own excitement mirrored in Garrett's expression. Screw dangerous, this latest assignment was going to be more fun than a summer's worth of Alaskan nights spent in the company of any one of those down-south Dorothys who hailed from the Emerald City.

Guess I'll have to find a girl's bed to warm down in Cali, Chase thought as he tossed back the rest of his coffee.

He was looking forward to it.

The flyover of California was illuminating in more ways than one. Chase craned his head to look again, his face so near the plane's window that his breath fogged the view. From this vantage, the fire seemed tiny—borderline harmless, like one of those ant mounds the sociopathic neighbor kid managed to find and ignite first thing every summer.

Thinking about how the outlying homes below resembled ants, though, put things into perspective.

The local squads were doing a good job of keeping the fire contained, even taking this year's persistent drought into account. Chase looked forward to meeting the guys on the ground and learning a trick or two to take back home with him.

What he looked forward to even more was meeting the local talent. Garrett wouldn't stop cutting him amused glances throughout the flight, and Chase wondered if his planned extracurricular activities were obvious on his face. Hank had yet to say anything about it, anyway. Hank likely didn't give a shit where Chase stuck his dick, hometown or no.

Chase was glad Hank hadn't made a comment yet. As much as Chase might enjoy his playboy reputation when the rest of the squad called him out on it, he wanted the chief to take him seriously. That was why he’d so readily volunteered for the contingent. He may be green, but he wasn't just another young and reckless meathead, and he was determined to prove it . . . even if his ego wouldn't allow him to admit outright that he sought Hank's approval.

It was a position Chase had vowed long ago never to let himself be in again. It wasn’t that he looked to the chief to fill the parental void his father had left. Hank wasn't that much older than he was, anyway. If the chief thought he was a fireman to reckon with, then everyone would think he was worthy of his spot on the squad, and he could forget about having to prove himself. If he couldn't tell his father where to shove his constant criticism, he could shove it to the back of his mind now, which was the next best thing . . . probably. He was confident that any private questions he had about his own ability would also vanish in an instant. It was therefore imperative he pull his weight on this mission.

But thoughts of the mission's importance flew from his mind the moment the plane grounded. Hank disembarked first, then Garrett and the rest, with Chase trailing at the rear . . . but if he hadn't been last, then he might not have seen the pilot stepping down from the Black Hawk across the tarmac. He had watched the helicopter touch down beautifully, every sleek angle controlled and exact. Its prop blades cut the air in hypnotic, ever-slowing sweeps. National Guard, Chase thought idly.

Then the pilot removed her helmet, and shook out her hair.

And Chase was in love.

Even the wrinkled flight suit couldn't hide her slender frame—and her curves. The built-in elastic hugged her tiny waist, showing off its trimness like a corset. The woman herself was tiny—or at least, she was the most diminutive thing walking around the tarmac that day. Currently, she was conferring with what appeared to be her crew chief, leaning occasionally to check a point of interest beneath the undercarriage. Her chocolate hair was cut short above her shoulders, hanging away from her high cheekbones in gorgeous natural waves every time she tilted her head to make an assessment.

Chase glanced behind him. Garrett was conversing with one of the tarmac staff, his duffle bag hanging off one shoulder. Hank and the rest were nowhere to be seen. The chief had probably gone into the terminal first thing to find the people in charge.

Chase slung his own bag over his shoulder and sauntered across the landing strip to the Black Hawk. The pilot was leaning into the cockpit and rummaging around for something. He enjoyed the view for a moment, then cleared his throat to signal he was behind her. It was the polite thing to do, even if manners had escaped him initially. "Afternoon," he said in greeting.

The woman turned toward him. She wore a pair of reflective aviators, and Chase was thankful for the opportunity to check his reflection in them. He looked good: tall, broad-shouldered, amicable lopsided smile, and the spark of dangers yet to be conquered in his gaze. He hadn't had time for a buzz before they’d shipped out, but his close-cropped hair looked better when it was slightly untidy, anyway. He understood the effect he had on women and objectively knew how good he looked, whether he was in or out of uniform. Time to put his famously irresistible baby blues to good use.

"Nice landing." He let his eyes travel her curves, broadcasting his interest in no uncertain terms. He wanted her to know he appreciated more than just her remarkable flying skill. What else can those hands of yours take hold of and pilot?

The girl's eyebrows made an appearance from behind her aviators as if she had heard every word of his telepathic follow-up. "Sorry, hotshot. Not interested."

Chase watched her walk away, too speechless to think of a quick way to salvage his confidence. The gouge she had just cut in his ego could give the Mariana Trench a run for its money.

"Ouch." Garrett draped a heavy arm over his shoulder, but Chase was quick to shake it off again. "Shoot and miss, Hotshot. Try waiting until we're actually in town next time before scoring."

Wonder if the Ice Queen is going to stick around? Chase thought as he watched her curvaceous figure recede into the distance. I know one fireman who wouldn’t mind bringing the thaw.