Plain Jane & The Hotshot Read Free Page B

look way up to meet his gaze. Being a townie and an academic, she usually only worried about intellectual might, but now, alone in the woods with a man who was strong enough and big enough to take without asking, she suddenly became acutely aware of her physical vulnerability. She took another wary step back from him.
    He only flashed that self-assured grin of his. “I’m not following you, so forget the paranoia. I’ve got the same job you have.”
    He held up at least a half-dozen plastic canteens, all strung on a length of cord.
    Seeing the canteens brought her back to reality. He wasn’t some woman-hungry medieval maurader. It was the twenty-first century, and he would prove no threat at all if she just stayed uninvolved.
    Reminded of her own task, she smiled her relief and picked up the water container next to her.
    â€œAfter you,” he said, holding out his hand.
    She smiled again, the smile she used for students who irritated her, and headed toward a hand pump just past the bridge.
    â€œHey,” he called from behind her. “Hazel introduced you as Jo. Is it just Jo—or something else?”
    â€œWhy does it matter?” she replied, her tone casual, her heart still beating as if she’d run a mile.
    She didn’t want to have a conversation with the man. After Ned, she was sworn off men, and her only reason for coming on this trip was to get away from the loneliness he’d left her with. Now here she was, in the wilderness, feeling like the only female on ladies’ night at the Bullnose Barroom.
    â€œIt’s Joanna, but you can call me anything you like, since I doubt we’ll be seeing each other much,” she answered breezily. “Believe me, you’re here to put out fires, and I am definitely planning on avoiding fires.”
    She pushed down on the rusty hand pump. Putting all her weight into it, she still couldn’t get it to move. It finally released with a bang, and she nearly fellover. Next she had trouble getting pressure built up in the thing; all she could get out of it was a series of gurgling, choking noises.
    â€œHere, let me help you.”
    He gave the handle a few fast pumps, and clear water came gushing out.
    â€œLet there be water,” he quipped.
    â€œThanks,” she muttered, nervous at the way he seemed to be crowding her. “I can manage it now.”
    But in fact it was difficult, once the container started to fill, to keep it up under the spout. It weighed a ton.
    â€œLet me hold it for you,” he offered.
    Her instincts gone awry, she snatched the container from him when he tried to take it. Water splashed across her blouse, plastering the thin fabric to her skin.
    â€œIt’s heavy, I just—”
    â€œI—I can manage,” she repeated, her mouth firming in a frown. “Don’t you have a forest somewhere to save?”
    She hadn’t meant to be so cutting. But he exhibited all the signs of a fast mover, and no doubt with his good looks he had a woman in every national park.
    But not her.
    She had no desire to join that convenient, far-flung sisterhood of harem partners.
    â€œAll right, suit yourself.” He stood back, still towering over her. “But you’re sure wasting a helluva lot of good water.”
    She really was, too, for she was forced to let the container go lower and lower as it got too heavy, until most of the water was splashing onto the ground or onto her chest.
    He just stood there waiting his turn, and she sent quick peeks his way, unsure if that odd contortion of his mouth was meant as a smile or a goad. The silence between them became painful, then excruciating.
    She felt remorse for snapping at him.
    â€œWell…thanks for your help,” she said, giving him a light, uninvolved smile.
    She’d meant to be polite, but her wooden gratitude rang a false note, and he seemed to detect it. She was halfway across the bridge, the heavy container bumping