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sleep—it was, however, giving her a serious case of bed head.
    She sighed. Who cared about the hair? She was going to be shooting fireside she didn’t need to look spectacular while doing it. She would just brush it back in a messy ponytail and be done with it.
    Her phone rang again. She looked at the blinking red light and sighed. She contemplated not answering the phone, but since she wasn’t getting the sleep she thought she needed anyway, she picked up the receiver.
    “Eve, I need to make sure you get the best photos for my story. I think we should do a conference tonight just to go over it again.”
    “No,” she said affirmatively. “You are not coming here. I am not coming to you. You are going to have to trust that I know what I’m doing. I always bring you great pictures, Mitch.”
    “I know you do. You’re like an artist with that camera, but with the fire almost being contained now I need something really spectacular for this one.”
    She exhaled slowly. This wasn’t a game, or some rush to prize winning journalism; this was real danger, real damage, and real threat to life and limb. “I always bring you spectacular photos,” according to the editors anyway, “and I won’t let you down this time. But if you don’t let me get some sleep, Mitch, all bets are off.”
    “Right,” he said quickly. “You sleep. Get a lot of sleep, so you’ll be refreshed and ready to shoot great art come morning.”
    She shook her head as she disconnected the call. If she didn’t know any better she would swear Mitch was almost sad the fire was near containment. “Whatever,” she mumbled as she got comfortable in bed. He was right on one count—she needed sleep.

 
     
    Chapter Five
     
     
    E ve secured her camera strap around her neck. She had long ago learned that when the situation shifted levels of danger it was best to have a firm hold on the camera in case she had to run for it. She wasn’t expecting anything dangerous today—other than the smell of the wood burning, which really was hazardous to her health and everybody else. The fire was pretty much contained. What she was doing now was just documenting the hard work the men were putting in to put out the fire, while getting pictures of some of the devastation the fire had caused. She didn’t envision needing to run for her life today, but she had been in the business long enough to know being prepared for the worse, expecting the worse, is what kept a person alive. She knelt on one knee to make sure her boots were securely tied.
    “Eve; what are you doing here?”
    Eve looked up to see Adam hovering over her. “Working,” she said with measured surprise. “What are you doing here?” As far as she knew, Adam worked residential, commercial, city fires, not wildfires. But there he was with his gear, and in his uniform, ready to work.
    “About six of us from our station are here to help again today. We come out to these sometimes.”
    “Oh,” she nodded.
    “It’s good for the firehouse, and gives us more experience, so it’s good for us too. It’s good for me,” he mumbled.
    “Great. I say whatever works for you; go for it—as long as it’s not illegal.”
    “It doesn’t bother you?”
    “That you’re fighting wildfires? No. Why should it?”
    “A lot of women don’t like the aspect of the dangerous situation.”
    She shrugged. “Fighting any fire is dangerous, Adam. But I grew up with two military brothers, and I’ve traveled the world and found myself in far more life threatening situations than most people. I don’t have an issue with anybody doing the job that matters to them.” He looked relieved. Had he really been worried that his job would be a deal breaker? If it were, she would have never agreed to go out with him. She wasn’t one of those women who pretended things were okay to land a man and then changed her mind after landing him. She wouldn’t try to change him. It wouldn’t be right, and it wouldn’t be fair to