Page 4 of Emma's Element

Chapter two

February

Nine Months Later

“Whyme?”EmmaWattersonasked her boss, Graham Whitaker, while she paced in his office at Nighthawk. “Why does it have to be me?”

Graham’s sigh indicated he was striving for patience, while his ice-blue eyes followed her as she briskly trod across the office. “Because you are one of the best instructors I have. You have a gift for training. A patience none of the other guys are blessed with; you’ll excel.”

“That may be, but I’m the newbie here. I’m still learning myself.” Emma had joined Nighthawk, a Search and Rescue training facility, three months ago after leaving the Coast Guard. Her best friend?Jolene?had introduced her to Graham and the others, and once he’d seen her climbing skills, he’d offered her a job. She loved the work, especially the rescue missions she and the other Nighthawks were asked to assist with. It was very rewarding work. But the mission Graham wanted her to take on was going to be a nightmare.

“We’ll fill in when needed and teach our regular courses. You’ll mostly act as his liaison. And make sure he understands everything we do here.”

She paced more, twisting her father’s watch around on her wrist as she moved. “I so don’t want to do this,” she muttered.

“I know. None of us do.” Graham ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Seriously though, Emma. We need this. We need his funding. The warehouse explosion three months ago hurt us . . . our bottom line, that is.”

Emma remembered the day Graham and his girlfriend had been attacked. She’d been in the dining hall with the other Nighthawks, having just been hired minutes before the warehouse exploded. They’d all rushed to the site to find Graham trapped under a heavy beam with his girlfriend attempting to lift it to save him. A lunatic with a gun had wanted Natalie dead; a wayward bullet had pierced the gas line. One spark and the whole place wentkaboom. Thankfully, Graham and Natalie had survived, but all the Nighthawk supplies had been destroyed.

“But Marcus Rayne! Seriously, Graham. He’s anactor. What does he know about SAR?” she groused. Unlike the rest of the world, Emma hadn’t paid much attention to Marcus Rayne. Of course, she’d seen his movies; who hadn’t? But she’d never given the man much thought . . . until he’d walked into Jolene’s bar a few months ago. He’d told the group gathered there that he had been following the Nighthawks ever since he’d met them on that cliff months before. And when he’d heard about the warehouse being destroyed, he’d offered them a miracle when he’d pledged them enough money to rebuild and resupply.

But that money had come with strings. Since he’d wanted to do a movie about Graham and his Nighthawks, he would need full access to everything Nighthawk; a request that Graham had been avoiding for months. The nation had been captivated by the story of the search and rescue team from southwest Michigan after the rescue of Marcus Rayne. Graham had been forced to break his cardinal rule about never granting interviews when it became clear the press frenzy was not going to go away, something Emma was all too familiar with. He’d granted an interview with 20/20, which quickly went viral, in large part because of the involvement of the mega movie star.

“That’s what he’s here to learn,” reasoned Graham. “Besides, it was your idea.”

Emma groaned. When Marcus had offered the Nighthawks his deal, it had been an answer to a prayer. But the Nighthawks had a few caveats of their own. At Emma’s own suggestion, Marcus was to go through the Nighthawks training to ensure the movie was done correctly, with little to no Hollywood magic. The technical aspects of search and rescue were to be as authentic as possible. Little did Emma know that Graham was going to makeherbabysit the actor. Had she known Graham would place her in charge of Marcus’s training, she might not have cared too much about the realism in the movie.

“But an actor?” It was laughable to think that anactorcould withstand the strenuous training he was about to face. He may be an action hero on screen, but she was willing to bet he had a stunt double to do all the arduous feats. She pictured the entitled actor sitting back under the shade of a tent, watching as someone else did all the hard work.

Graham laughed. “Thatactoris actually a pretty decent guy. And he’s been very generous to us and our extended Nighthawk family. Look what he did for Annika before Christmas.”

Annika was the girlfriend of her coworker, Logan, and was a teacher who had been caught in a school shooting. Tragically, one of her students had died. Marcus had set up a charity in the girl’s name; additionally, he’d donated money to the school to add an atrium that they named after Annika.

Emma sighed, ceasing her pacing, resigned to her fate. “Fine. I’ll do it. Not like I have a choice in the matter.”

“You do. I’m not that kind of boss. If you feel that strongly about it, I’ll find someone else. But I think you are best suited for this. And I’d really appreciate it.”

“Jeez, Graham. You really know how to twist an arm,” she groaned.

His lips twitched in a slight smile. “So . . . you’ll do it?”

“Yes, I’ll do it. When does he get here?”

“Any time now,” he grinned. Emma sighed, absentmindedly twisting the watch again. A knock on the door had her freezing mid-step. “Ha! That must be him.”

Emma opened the door, and there stood the movie icon looking like a Greek god. She might not be too happy with this situation, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t admire his physique. He was tanned and toned. Some might describe his looks as golden. A golden god. His golden hair was cut short, leaving just enough for her to run her fingers through.

Wait . . . what?

Where had that thought come from? She could admit when she was attracted to someone, and who wouldn’t be charmed by his golden good looks? Millions of women all over the world were salivating over him. Seeing him up close like this, off the big screen, was . . . the only way she could think of to describe it was hubba-hubba. He exuded sex, and her imagination went wild thinking about what he might be like in bed, even though he wassonot her type.

Graham stood to shake his hand. “Marcus, welcome. You remember Emma Watterson?” he asked, gesturing to her standing by the door.

“Of course. Emma, the warrior who hasn’t found the right dance partner yet,” he teased. Her eyes widened in surprise. Usually, when she listed her accomplishments, people asked her if there was anything she couldn’t do, and she always responded that she couldn’t dance. It did something strange to her insides that he’d remember that about her.

She blushed.

She never blushed.

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