Another rough drop but her hands and eyes remained steady, as did her heart, though her palms had grown damp.

Behind her she heard the slap of a sweaty hand on an armrest. Heard the low, muttered curse.

In her mirror, their eyes locked and held. “We’re okay,” she said.

“Don’t waste your breath coddling me, just get us there.”

She dropped altitude again.

At the abrupt shift, she heard another sharp intake of breath. She took one herself, then let it out slowly, using all her strength to guide them in.

Blind. “Hang on.” Thrusting the throttle forward, she executed a sharp climb to miss the crest that was leaping with flames, banking sharply to the right, swinging back around for another shot at the landing.

And again lost all visibility.

“Pull up again,” he said. “Take your time.”

She glanced down at her gauges. “No can do.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Not enough fuel.”

Their eyes locked. A trickle of sweat ran down his temple. Her own skin was damp. “Hang on,” she said again, and with another drastic maneuver brought them back around, slightly to the west this time, and over fire-free land. “Ready?”

“Shit.” He closed his eyes. Then opened them with a grim determination that took her by surprise. “Ready.”

Ready. And she took them directly into the remote, dizzying, dangerous, and definitely rough-around-the-edges Mexican mountains, flames and smoke and all.

Leah is a brilliant pastry chef—who’s somehow botched all her opportunities for success.

Jack is an ex-hotshot wildfire fighter who’s back to taming the fires of a small town.

When these old friends reunite in Lucky Harbor, can they handle the heat?

Please see the next page for a preview of Always on My Mind.

Chapter 1

Saying that she went to the annual Firefighter’s Charity Breakfast for pancakes was like saying she watched baseball for the game—when everyone knew that you watched baseball for the guys in tight uniform pants.

But this time Leah Sullivan really did want pancakes. She also wanted her grandma to live forever, world peace, and hey, while she was making wishes, she wouldn’t object to being sweet-talked out of her clothes sometime this year.

But those were all issues for another day. Mid-August was hinting at an Indian summer for the Pacific Northwest. The morning was warm and heading toward hot as she walked to the already crowded pier. The people of Lucky Harbor loved a get-together, and if there was food involved—and cute firefighters to boot—well, that was just a bonus.

Leah accepted a short stack of pancakes from Tim Denison, a firefighter from Station #24. He was a rookie, fresh from the academy and at least five years younger than her, but that didn’t stop him from sending her a wink. She took in his beachy, I-belong-on-a-Gap-ad-campaign appearance and waited for her good parts to flutter.

They didn’t.