Falling for the Forest Ranger. Leigh Bale

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      Chapter Two

      No, it couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.

      Tanner Bohlman stared across the conference room in the Steelhead National Forest supervisor’s office, unable to believe his eyes. Striding through the door wearing a violet-colored skirt and matching jacket was the woman from the parking lot.

      The very same.

      It’d been a week since her son had creamed his new truck with a shopping cart. Even with her now wearing makeup and a business suit, he couldn’t mistake the apologetic mother who’d offered to pay for repairs to his truck. Zoë was her name. As much as he’d tried, he couldn’t seem to forget it.

      Instead of flat and tired-looking, as it’d been that day in the parking lot, her short blond hair had been given a sassy style, spiked slightly in the back with gel. Her pretty mouth shimmered with pink lipstick, her blue eyes accented with a subtle hint of mascara, liner and shadow. Her pale skin showed a healthy glow, her high cheekbones dusted with a hint of blush.

      Gary Drummond, the watershed specialist sitting next to Tanner, whistled low beneath his breath. “That’s the new marine biologist? I think I’m gonna like her.”

      “Yeah, me, too,” agreed Ron Parker, one of Tanner’s fishery biologists.

      Both men were married, but you didn’t have to be single to appreciate an attractive woman. Tanner admitted silently to himself they were both right. What a looker!

      As she shook the forest supervisor’s hand and smiled, Tanner remembered the color of her eyes. A vivid shade of blue.

      Tanner tried to imagine this feminine woman dressed in hip waders, toddling out into the middle of a stream to take water samples. How could she be the new marine biologist? Where did she think the fish lived? In a high-rise office building?

      Not likely.

      Right now, Tanner was afraid to breathe too deeply for fear of soiling her pristine business suit. All the other marine biologists he’d ever met before wore blue jeans, tennis shoes or boots, a plain shirt they didn’t care about getting dirty and not a hint of makeup, much less a carefully styled hairdo. Of course, he’d never worked with a female marine biologist before.

      Until today.

      A series of business meetings that morning might account for her professional attire. But why would the National Marine Fisheries Service send this little scrap of lace to the wilds of Idaho to work? Tanner wondered if she even knew how to swim, much less how to help solve their fishery problems. He wasn’t about to play nursemaid to a marine biologist who might be afraid of rumpling her silk blouse.

      “Hey, everyone. This is Zoë Lawton.” Chuck Daniels, the forest supervisor and Tanner’s boss, smiled expectantly as he made the introductions.

      “Hi, there,” Gary called with a wave of his hand.

      “Glad to meet you.” Ron grinned like a fool.

      Tanner just nodded, biting his tongue to keep from speaking. He didn’t trust his voice right now. Instead, he mechanically stood and held out his hand, highly conscious of her soft, manicured fingers as they tightened around his...and the moment she met his gaze and recognized him, too.

      “Oh!” she said.

      Just Oh! Nothing more.

      “Do you two know each other?” Chuck asked, glancing between them.

      Tanner spoke up fast. “No, we don’t.”

      Zoë. Even her name sounded exotic. And too fragile to be traipsing around the untamed Idaho river systems. Her name suited her. Sweet and feminine. But those weren’t the traits she’d need once he took her up on the mountain to view the various creeks and streams connecting to Bingham River. Tanner wasn’t certain, but he figured if a bear attacked her, she could use one of her spiked heels as a weapon. That was just about the only useful, practical aspect he could spot in her outfit.

      “But we’ve met before.” Zoë withdrew her hand and gave him an uncertain smile. “I’m sorry again for what happened. I haven’t heard from you, so I guess you haven’t changed your mind about letting me pay for the damage.”

      “That’s right.” He turned and moved around the room, taking a seat on the opposite side of the wide oak table.

      She smelled even better than she looked. Like bottled springtime.

      As the Fisheries and Wildlife staff officer, Tanner had been assigned the task of giving this woman a tour of Bingham River and its tributaries. Which would take all summer long. He had to cooperate with her in any way he could.

      What rotten luck.

      “Why don’t we get started?” Tanner glanced at Ron, trying not to sound irritable. The fact that Ron gave him a worried look told Tanner that he’d failed in that endeavor.

      “Right.” Ron grabbed the overhead clicker. With a punch of his finger, he brought up the first slide to the PowerPoint presentation he’d been asked to prepare. A brief overview of the Steelhead National Forest and the fishery problems they were dealing with.

      “Will you get the lights, Chuck?” Tanner called over his shoulder.

      A click sounded and the room went dim. Tanner focused on the screen at the front of the table, glad to have an excuse to take his eyes off Zoë.

      The first slide showed a brilliant picture of Bingham River, the rushing waters bordered by willows, sedges and Kentucky bluegrass.

      With each slide, Ron narrated in an overly loud voice. “The elevations of Bingham River range from nine hundred to over five thousand feet. The river and its tributaries are home to numerous animal species, but our focus today will be on the steelhead, bull trout and Chinook salmon. All these fish are on the endangered-species list.”

      “Don’t you have a serious problem with the sockeye, too?” Zoë asked.

      Ron’s expression wilted along with his confidence. “Um, yes, and sockeye, too. But the only population of sockeye is located at Redfish Lake in the upper Salmon River basin.”

      “Yes, I’d heard that. But I’m hoping we can work on introducing them to the Bingham River arena.”

      Tanner interceded, trying not to sound defensive. “We’re already working on that. In fact, Ron’s done some great work with the Sawtooth Hatchery to help establish the sockeye in Bingham River by using Clear Lake at its head.”

      Ron showed a broad smile of gratitude for the praise.

      “I see. And how many hatcheries do you have?” Zoë asked.

      “There СКАЧАТЬ