Playing With Fire: inspirational romantic suspense (Montana Fire Book 2) by Susan May Warren Page B

down.
    “Cool,” Skye said. “I’ve always wanted to jump out of a plane.”
    “He took me up once,” Liza said, her hand still cupped over her eyes. “I asked him what it was like to jump fire, and he decided to show me. We jumped tandem.”
    Skye looked at her. “Wow, seriously?”
    Liza nodded, easily remembering the way he’d suited her up nearly a year ago, in Arizona. Remembered the feel of him checking her straps, his strong hands fixing her harness. Listen, when we get up there, it’ll be too loud to really hear, but I’m going to strap you to the front of me. When we jump, open your arms and legs as if you’re flying. We’ll fall for about seven seconds, then I’ll tap your shoulder, and you’ll know to bring your arms in. I’ll hang onto your legs and deploy the chute. Then, it’s just us, drifting down to earth.
    Just us.
    She could still sense him behind her, powerful, his arm curled around her waist as they maneuvered toward the open door of the plane, the slipstream whipping against her, trying to pry her from his grip.
    Not a chance. She held onto him for dear life.
    That high up—four thousand feet, he’d told her later—the earth seemed a canvas, the cars matchbox in size, the houses Lincoln Logs. And, with his hands on her shoulders, the fear dropped away.
    “ Ready ?”
    She’d heard his voice above the buzz of the plane, the urge to fly swelling inside her.
    She pushed out—dove, really—into nothing. Into blue sky and cool air and the sense that she could simply let go.
    After all, Superman had her.
    “Yeah,” Liza said to Skye, watching the trio angle their rectangular chutes toward the field. “It was...well, like flying. Freedom, and of course, I was connected to Conner, so I wasn’t afraid.”
    “Really?”
    “Not at all. I knew that he wasn’t going to let me drop, and so I just threw my arms out, enjoyed the ride.”
    Enjoyed the feeling of his strong body pinned to hers, being connected to him as they shared the glorious panorama.
    “He hitched a ride with a pilot friend so we could jump near the Grand Canyon, and it was simply glorious to see the layers of earth, the way the canyon carves through the land. It’s impressive from the ground, but from the air—it’s absolutely breathtaking.”
    “I wonder what it feels like to jump into a fire,” Skye said.
    Liza tried not to think about the fact that, most of the time when Conner jumped, it was into flames three-stories high, into a world that could incinerate him with one unlucky gust of wind before he hit the ground.
    “Conner says that sometimes they can feel the heat—depending on how big the fire is—from the plane. And of course, there’s always the danger of being blown into the fire—”
    “Seriously?”
    “Yeah, of course. But they have training on how to steer into the wind and—see.” She pointed to one of the jumpers. “He’s out over the valley but has caught the wind and is using his steering toggles to bring him back in. It doesn’t always work, though. Sometimes they can get blown way off course. One of Conner’s buddies got caught in a tree one time and broke his leg.”
    No wonder Conner had started to call her after escaping the flames. Wrung out, needing to decompress.
    He needed that friend she said she’d be.
    She didn’t blame him, really, for reaching out.
    “I didn’t know firefighters do search and rescue.”
    “Not always, but yes, sometimes, if they’re needed. Most of the smokejumpers have first-responder skills, and a few are EMTs.” Her gaze tracked the closest one coming in. He wore a brown jumpsuit designed with deep leg pockets for his letdown rope, a high collar, and a gridded mask. His gloved hands drove the toggles, steering him to the middle of the field.
    He dropped, then rolled, cushioning the landing across his body. Then he popped up and gathered in his chute.
    “Wow. That was...smooth,” Skye said, appreciation in her voice.
    Liza glanced at her, and