Odds were, Russo was straight too, but Mallory was glad for the bench that bisected the space. Her skin felt hot, and Russo seemed to take up more space than she ought to. Maybe it was her eyes—they never wavered once they looked at you. Like you were all she saw.

“I don’t think whether I’m dressed or not is really on Sully’s radar.” Nonchalantly, Mallory reached into her locker for a pair of navy bikini briefs, pulled them on, and slid the tank over her head and down over her breasts. Russo’s gaze followed her movements, and Mallory had a second’s flash of Russo’s hands tracking where her gaze had just gone. Her stomach tightened. What the hell?

“Ought to be on someone’s radar,” Jac said.

Damn it, Mallory felt herself flush. Annoyed with herself now, she jerked on her pants. Turning her back to Russo, she quickly finished dressing and clipped her radio to her pants. Good. Ready to go. Ready to get to work.

She wasn’t used to anyone putting her off stride, not in the field and not in her personal life. The women she dated, when she had time to date—which this time of year was practically never—were always self-sufficient women with busy lives of their own who wanted good company, interesting conversation, and undemanding sex if the mood was right. If sex didn’t happen, an enjoyable evening with someone who wasn’t on the job was satisfying enough for her. Women just didn’t occupy a big place in her life, and never disrupted it. Russo had done nothing but disorder her usual calm routine just by breathing the same air. Being around Russo made her feel as if she was missing a layer of skin, and she never felt that way. The tingling in her belly was unfamiliar too. No, that was a lie. It was very familiar, just not very frequent. Double damn her body for having no sense of discretion whatsoever. Russo’s sexy dark gaze heated her beneath her skin, in a place she couldn’t control. No matter. No problem. Maybe her body was reckless, but her head wasn’t.

Mallory picked up her watch, strapped it on, and headed for the door. “You can use that locker on the end.”

“Thanks.” Russo unzipped her gear bag and stowed her gear quickly and efficiently.

“If you plan on getting anything to eat, I’d hurry if I were you. Now you’ve only got twenty-five minutes.”

“I’ll be there.” Jac paused. “How about I buy you breakfast? Boss.”

“Breakfast is free,” Mallory said, walking out.

“Figure of speech,” Jac called, hurrying after the woman she had to impress. She hadn’t done a very good job of that so far. Not that sucking up to anyone was part of her repertoire, but Mallory James was her boss. Mallory would decide when she jumped and what she did when she landed. Since she planned to pull her weight on this team—hell, she planned on doing more than that, she wanted on permanently at this post—she’d have to prove herself. And that meant convincing Ice James she wasn’t just some appointee getting a free ride, courtesy of her father’s connections. Just the opposite—her father hadn’t been doing her any favors, but Mallory wouldn’t care about her problems. Why should she? “Keep you company, then.”

Mallory hesitated, looking as if she might say no.

“Might be our only chance,” Jac said hurriedly, lengthening her stride to stay by Mallory’s side. “Seeing as how you’re going to wash me out later today.”

“You so sure I won’t?” Mallory asked, her green eyes snapping.

Jac grinned. “Pretty sure.”

“Like I said. We’ll see.”

Mallory kept walking, but she hadn’t said no, so Jac fell into step with her. Outside to the east, the first ribbons of dawn purpled the sky over the mountaintops. Base camp was situated in a dip of flat land between towering crags of rock face and dense evergreen forests. At eight thousand feet, the crystal-clear air shimmered with the whistle of the wind, always the wind slicing down the mountainside, and the chatter of daring early birds. Then testosterone-infused laughter laden with the energy of a dozen men eager for adventure erupted in the yard.

Calls of “Hey, Boss” and “Morning, Ice” floated their way, and Mallory waved, a slight smile softening her full lips, turning her classic features from distant to beautiful.

“Ready for a workout, Cap?” called a wiry blond in a green flannel shirt and jeans, his mustache and rough stubble tinged with hints of red.

“That’s my line, Bowie,” Mallory responded. “Hope you didn’t get too soft over the winter.”

“Still hard, Ice.” Bowie patted his belly, and the other guys hooted good-naturedly.

Mallory just shook her head.

“How many rookies besides me?” Jac asked, noting that a lot of guys shot appreciative glances Mallory’s way, though she didn’t seem to notice. Why wouldn’t they? She was a knockout. Thick, wavy chestnut hair just kissing her shoulders, deep-set almond-shaped green eyes, elegantly carved cheekbones saved from appearing delicate by her strong chin and direct gaze. Great body—loose and strong and full in all the right places. Athletic and fit with undeniable grace. Jac’s mouth actually watered, and she nearly laughed out loud at her pathetic musings. Mallory James, if she even liked women in bed, was more likely to give her twenty-five push-ups than the time of day.

“Four.”

“Huh?” Jac said.

Mallory cut her a bemused stare. “Four other rookies. Although I suppose technically you’re a snookie.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t like that idea,” Jac said. “Sounds like one of those chocolate-covered marshmallow things.” She patted her stomach, mimicking Bowie. “Pretty hard myself.”

Mallory gave her a flat stare. “Snooks are second-years. And this isn’t day camp, Hotshot. This is make-or-break time.”

“I got that message.” Jac grinned when Mallory’s gaze lingered on hers. “Loud and clear, Boss.”

“Enough with the Boss already.” Mallory opened the door to a long, narrow room that smelled of coffee, eggs, and bacon.

“Oh man,” Jac moaned, “when you said breakfast I thought you meant vending machines and microwaves.”

“We’re lucky to have on-site meals. Luckier still to have Charlie Awita as a cook. This used to be an auxiliary Air Force outpost, so there’s a kitchen and dining hall.”

“Does everyone live here full-time?”

“Mostly—a couple of the married crew keep apartments in town.”

“How about you?”

“How about me what?” Mallory grabbed a dented stainless steel tray from a stack at the end of the food line and handed it over the counter to a middle-aged Native American wearing a Grateful Dead T-shirt and a white apron around his portly waist. “Hey, Charlie, fill it up.”

Charlie smiled. “Good morning, Captain Mallory.”

Mallory smiled back. “Don’t call me Captain, Charlie. Ice will do just fine.”

He shook his head, his dark eyes shining. “Oh no, I don’t think so. It’s an honor to lead the team. You should be proud.”

“I know and I am, but it doesn’t change anything else.” Looking uncomfortable with the praise, Mallory took the tray heaped with scrambled eggs, bacon, and biscuits and moved quickly on down the line to the coffee machine. She grabbed an extra-large cup and filled it to the brim.

Jac followed her lead. “So?”

Mallory sat at a square wooden table in front of a window with a killer view of the long valley that narrowed into a pass between two towering peaks. “So…what?”

“Are you married?”

“No.”

“So no apartment in town?” Jac blew on her steaming coffee and tried a sip. Excellent.

“No.” Mallory paused, studying Jac through narrowed eyes. “What are you doing here, Russo? I assume you could have had your pick of places to go—so why here? We’re remote, we see hard time all season, we never get any filmmakers or writers wanting to do documentaries about us. We’re just not high profile.”

Like you. The words hung in the air unspoken.

Jac set her fork down and lifted her coffee cup, buying a few seconds. She’d expected the question but didn’t know how she wanted to answer. If she told Mallory James why her father had leveraged his political clout to get her a job in another state, a job he knew she wanted and would have a hard time turning down, she’d have to reveal a whole lot more about herself than she ever did to anyone. The silence lengthened and she met Mallory’s gaze. Mallory’s eyes were a darker green than they had appeared earlier, with flecks of gold glinting in the bright sunlight that had burst in the sky. Deep, intense, unflinching eyes that almost made her want to tell it all. Almost. “Maybe the same thing you are.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

Trying to prove I’m worth something to someone on my own. She opted for a safer answer. “Trying to make a difference.”

“You don’t know why I’m here, and you didn’t answer my question. But it won’t really matter if you don’t make it to the end of the month.” Pushing back from the table, Mallory stood. “Now you’ve got ten minutes.”

Jac watched her walk away. Cold. Remote. Beautiful. Like the mountains. And probably just as unforgiving. But she’d never been afraid of a challenge, and Mallory “Ice” James was all that and more.

Chapter Three

“Hey.” A guy about Jac’s age with linebacker shoulders and hair as red as his T-shirt flashed a wide-open grin and straddled a chair next to her. “You another one of the new guys? I didn’t see you at the briefing yesterday afternoon.”

“Just got here,” Jac said, holding out her hand. “Jac Russo.”

“Ray Kingston,” the redhead said.

A thin African American with round wire-framed glasses and thoughtful eyes joined them, and a half minute later a husky middle-aged man with a thick mustache and a neck as wide as his head pulled up a chair. Anderson and Hooker, they supplied. Jac shook their hands.