- -
- 100%
- +
“Cookies are good,” she said as a way to fill the void.
“You can thank the Pillsbury Doughboy. All I did was slice and heat.”
“Still, you sliced them very evenly and heated them to the perfect degree of doneness.”
“Are you making fun of me?” His eyes teased.
Feeling suddenly shy, she glanced away. Oh, she was getting in way over her head here. Liking this guy too much, when they had no future together.
But she was in no position to ask for anything more from him than sex, nor did she want to. For one thing he was an Alaskan and she was a New Yorker. For another, she was on the rebound, still aching from Lloyd’s betrayal. She had a lot of things to sort out before she could ever entertain a relationship that extended beyond the physical. With anyone.
Maybe coming here hadn’t been such a great idea, after all.
Disconcerted, she moved away from Quinn and turned her attention to the photographs artfully arranged on the paneled wall on the opposite side of the room.
There was Quinn playing hockey. In another he was standing on the summit of Mount McKinley grinning like a happy kid. In a third he was kayaking. In a fourth he was guiding a group of tourists down white-water rapids in a rubber raft.
One picture caught her eye. It featured six muscular, bare-chested teenagers laughing and lobbing fistfuls of blueberries at each other. She recognized four of the boys from the magazine advertisement.
Quinn hadn’t changed much. His hair was darker, his shoulders broader, but he still possessed the same insouciant grin and macho stance.
“That was the summer we all worked in Juneau taking tourists down the Mendenthall.” He come up behind her and was standing so near she could almost feel his chin touching the top of her head. “We’d been picking blueberries and things got out of hand. My sister Meggie, the camera buff, sneaked up on us and snapped this photo.”
“Who’s that?” She pointed to a swarthy, dark-haired boy with straight white teeth.
“That’s Jesse, Meggie’s husband. They weren’t married then, of course. In fact, I believe that was the summer Jesse’s father married Caleb’s mother.”
“And this guy?” She pointed to a lanky, string-bean fellow whom Quinn had in a headlock while he smashed berries into his hair.
“That’s Kyle.”
“You two look like the best of friends.”
“We were.”
Something in his voice made Kay turn and look at him. “You’re not friends anymore?”
Quinn shrugged. “I don’t talk to him much. He met some girl who’d come to Alaska for the summer. Kyle fell head over heels. Moved to California for her. Haven’t seen him in twelve years.”
“You act like he betrayed you by falling in love.”
Quinn cracked an uneasy smile. “It wasn’t the falling-in-love part, it was the leaving Alaska. That woman put a ring in his nose, and he let her pull him around by it. Guess that’s why I’m so determined to find a wilderness wife.”
“Because you’re not willing to compromise?”
“Not when it comes to leaving Alaska.” He thrust his chest out as if he was proud of his stubbornness. “In fact, that’s what happened to my last relationship. I asked Heather to marry me, but she refused to move to Bear Creek. I wasn’t about to go to Cleveland where she lived. If a woman wants to love me, she’s got to love Alaska, too. It’s a package deal.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate, then said, “You can quote me in your article.”
Kay raised her eyebrows. With such an obstinate attitude the man might be hard-pressed to find his perfect mate. So why did she find his stubbornness attractive? Maybe it was the clear-cut, simple way he said what was on his mind and if people didn’t like it, well, too bad. “I’ll be sure to note that. Getting your story for the article is the reason I’m here.”
“The only reason?” His eyes sought hers.
“No. It’s not the only reason.”
“No?” He gave her a quirky smile, which struck her the wrong way. As if he was feeling pretty cocky about his ability to attract her all the way across the continent.
“I needed to get out of the city after breaking things off with Lloyd.”
“Ah.” He grinned all the wider. “So you’re no longer practically engaged.”
“No, I’m not.”
He smirked.
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Looking so smug. My breaking up with Lloyd had nothing to do with you.”
“I never said it did.”
“Your expression implied it.”
Why was she being so sensitive? What was the matter with her? For the past week, while she packed and made travel arrangements, she had been unable to think of anything but seeing Quinn again, and now that she was here, she was experiencing all kinds of conflicting emotions.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “That sounded argumentative.”
“Hey, I can handle it. If you need to get something off your chest, go right ahead.”
Well, that was refreshing. He was ready to let her spew out her emotions. Her mother and her father and Lloyd encouraged her not to express her feelings. To keep things bottled up. Good little girls didn’t let their anger show. She was damned tired of being good, and here was Quinn egging her on.
“You sure you’re up for this?” She looked into his eyes, saw nothing but sincere interest and acceptance. She leaned forward and set her half-empty mug back on the tray.
“FYI for the article. I don’t want a submissive yes-woman for a wife. I want a true partner who speaks her mind, shares her thoughts with me even though I might not agree with her. I’m a firm believer that passionate couples fight. As long as they fight fair. Hell, if you don’t fight sometimes, if you agree about everything, where’s the spark? Where’s the passion?”
Kay gulped. Oh, yes. She had always felt the same way. Just once when her father came home late, she had longed for her mother to confront him, throw a tantrum, demand he stop sleeping with other women. But Honoria had never once expressed her anger or voiced her opinion. Well-bred wives did not behave that way. Civilized-society women simply went shopping, spending extravagantly, consoling themselves with expensive but totally meaningless gewgaws.
And when she had tried to tell Lloyd her feelings or express her displeasure over something, he’d always headed her off, shut her down, closed her out, reminding her she was a Freemont with a certain level of dignity to maintain.
“You got something to tell me, Kay? Blast away, I’m listening.”
Quinn gave her his full attention, his eyes on her face, his palms splayed over his thighs. Kay couldn’t help but feel that the future Mrs. Scofield was going to be a very lucky woman—just as long as she was willing to move to Alaska.
“All right. It hurt my feelings when you turned down my offer at the Empire State Building. I don’t go around inviting men into my bed willy-nilly. I just thought you should know that.”
“I never thought you did.”
“You thought I was terrible, wanting to cheat on my boyfriend.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
He shook a finger. “Now don’t go telling me what I thought.”
“So what did you think about me?”
“I figured there must have been trouble in ‘practically engaged’ paradise for there to be so much attraction between us.”
“And?”
“I thought you were a beautiful, sexy woman who was obviously unhappy with her life and not getting what she needed from her primary relationships.”
Boy, he’d hit the nail on the head. Was she that obvious, or was he that observant?
“I think you’re frustrated and disappointed and searching for something special.”
She ducked her head. This didn’t feel very comfortable, having him analyze her and be so accurate.
He reached out and cupped her chin with his palm, raised her face to meet his gaze once more. “I’d like to make you feel special, Kay.” His expression was doing her in, causing her to feel hot and cold at the same time.
“Quinn, you’re looking for a wife, and the last thing I’m in the market for is a husband.”
“Kay, I’m a pretty simple guy. I take life as I find it. I don’t put expectations on people.”
“Then why did you reject me back in New York?”
“Like I told you then, I don’t come between couples. You had to get free from Lloyd first before you could come to me. But you’re here now. Officially unattached. Anything can happen.”
Anything.
The word reverberated in her head. It was exactly what she wanted to hear. Exactly what she feared most. By coming to Alaska she had set herself on a course of sexual exploration. If a man as virile as Quinn couldn’t give her an orgasm, if he couldn’t save her from a life of frustrated sexual fantasies, then could anyone?
* * *
QUINN DROVE KAY over to Jake’s bed-and-breakfast in his parents’ Wagoneer and gave her the keys. He’d started to walk her to the door, not wanting her to slip in the gloom and the snow, but she surprised him by announcing she wanted to walk around and check out the town.
“For the article,” she explained.
They walked to the end of the half-mile-long boardwalk, which ended at the pier where the cruise ships docked in the summer. Most of the shops were closed for the winter, except for Long Bear’s sundries and MacKenzie’s trading post. He took her over to KCRK, his parents’ radio station, and they waved to Liam Kilstrom who was in the control booth. They wandered past the community rec center and the nearby church, where the ladies’ auxiliary was having a quilting bee. They strolled by the Happy Puffin bar, where half the town was hanging out, because it was trivia night. The other half of the town was either probably in Jake’s huge sitting room or at the adjacent restaurant, Paradise Diner.
He was not quite certain what had passed between them at his house. Had she come to Alaska to have an affair with him or not? She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. He saw the desire reflected in her eyes, noticed her passion in the way she held her body, recognized longing in how she got flustered in his presence. But something was holding her back.
It was all he could do to keep from touching her, brushing a wisp of hair from her cheek, taking her hand to guide her over the icy patches on the road. He wanted to caress her and hold her and never let her go.
He had it bad and he knew that wasn’t good. He had to be careful. Kay was not a long-term relationship. He knew that. He didn’t want either of them to get hurt. But man, how he wanted to make love to her.
His gut somersaulted and he drew in a deep, steadying breath, unable to remember when one woman had tied him so inextricably into knots. He was afraid of screwing up, of making a wrong move, of letting this one slip through his fingers. He wanted her with a power that shook his normal confidence.
Kay stopped on the wooden promenade, inhaled deeply of the cold air and gazed at the mountains surrounding the town.
“It’s so incredibly beautiful here,” she murmured. “Breathtaking. Overwhelming. Majestic. Totally wild. Honestly, I had no idea.”
“It’s just home to me.” He grinned.
“I can’t believe how different it is from New York. Bear Creek is quaint and clean and charming. No noise, no pollution, no panhandlers. I’ve got to tell you the truth, all this quiet is a shock to my system. How do you stand it?”
“How do you stand Manhattan?”
She gave a little laugh, and the delicate, feminine sound drilled a corkscrew of awareness straight through his groin. “I suppose it’s what you’re accustomed to. Although I’ve got to admit it can be a tough place to live. I’ve been mugged twice in two years.”
“That’s awful.”
She shrugged. “Builds character.”
“I hate the thought of someone accosting you,” he said vehemently. “Makes me want to do bodily harm.”
“Omigosh!” she exclaimed, and latched on to his arm.
“What is it?”
“There’s a moose. Trotting right down Main Street. I was reading a book on Alaska on the flight over, and it said moose are often more dangerous than bears. Is that true?”
“Moose have been known to cause a lot of damage.”
“Do they bite?”
Quinn struggled not to laugh. Her gloved fingers dug into his forearm. Her lithe body trembled against his. Ah, at last, here was his opportunity to touch her, even if he had to do something a little underhanded to keep her latched on to him.
“Shh. Hang on to me, Kay. We’ll tiptoe past him and hopefully he won’t notice us.”
“Quinn—” her voice warbled and her eyes grew round as hubcaps “—maybe we should turn around and go back to the pier. Give him the whole street.”
The moose snorted and trotted closer.
“Oh! Oh!”
“I’ll protect you.” He thrust her behind him.
Her arms went around his waist and her sweet-smelling head popped out from under the crook of his arm so she could keep her eyes fixed on the moose.
“He’s huge,” she whispered. “What if he charges?”
“I’ll hold him off while you run away.”
“Quinn, I’m scared.”
He patted her hand. “It’s all right, Kay. I won’t let any harm come to you. This isn’t New York.”
The moose snorted and pawed the ground. Then raised his shaggy head and glared at them.
Kay tightened her grip on his waist.
“We’ll just ease on by.” Quinn took a tentative step forward.
“No, no.” She dug in her heels. “Please don’t move.”
The moose chose that moment to turn and lope off in the opposite direction. Kay sighed and sagged against his body. “Whew. That was a close call.”
Reprobate, his conscience accused. Tell her the truth.
“Kay...” he began, but she was no longer next to him. She was sprinting toward Jake’s B&B. He had to run to catch up with her.
She wrenched open the door and tumbled headlong into the foyer.
The place was packed with toddy-sipping locals gathered around a roaring fire, playing chess, swapping tall tales, listening to the weather report on the radio. The minute Kay burst through the entryway, every head turned to stare at her, and he hated the way they gawked.
“Wild moose!” Kay gasped. “Walking down Main Street.”
The denizens of Bear Creek, mostly men, all Quinn’s neighbors and friends, stared at her as if she was some exotic bird who’d migrated too far north. More than a few mouths dropped open, and even Lulu, Jake’s Siberian husky, lifted her head off the rug. A twinge of guilt bit him for having let her believe the moose was dangerous.
“Well,” Kay demanded, sinking her hands on her hips and glaring about her, “aren’t you guys going to do something about it?”
The room broke into raucous laughter.
Kay blushed and pivoted on her heel to face Quinn. “What’s so funny?”
“Quinn got you thinkin’ that moose is a killer?” cackled an old fellow seated at a table near the door, a chessboard on the table in front of him.
“Don’t let old Gus give you a hard time,” soothed a handsome man that Kay recognized from the publicity photo Quinn had shown her in New York. He had sandy hair and a boyish grin that promised lots of fun. “That’s just Kong, our resident moose. Caleb bottle-fed him from the time he was a calf. His Momma got hit by an RV during tourist season five years ago. Kong’s tamer than a poodle.”
“Oh.” She felt like fifty different kinds of fool. Why had Quinn let her believe the moose was dangerous? She glared at him, and he had the good sense to look ashamed of himself.
“I get it, ha, ha, ha. Play a trick on the city girl.”
“I’m sorry.” Quinn jammed his hands in his pockets.
“It’s okay. I can take a joke.”
“I’m Jake, by the way. You must be Kay.” Quinn’s buddy held out his hand. “We’ve heard a lot about you. Welcome to Bear Creek.”
“Thank you, Jake.” She shook his hand and smiled graciously, determined to regain her dignity.
“Would you like me to show you to your room?” Jake asked.
“That would be lovely.”
“This way.”
Jake led her up the wide cedar staircase to a room decorated with rustic charm. Quinn started to trail after them, but Kay turned and planted a palm on his chest. “Excuse me, big man, but I don’t recall anyone inviting you up to my room.”
Chapter Six
“SHE SURE PUT YOU in your place,” Jake teased Quinn when he returned to the B&B three hours after Kay had kicked him out. Lulu lay on the rug at his feet, eyeing Quinn with the same amusement that was evident in her owner’s face.
“Oh, shut up.”
“Quinn’s got a girlfriend.”
“Grow up,” Quinn growled, and scowled.
He had gone home to give her time to cool off and to prepare a peace offering, and he’d come back to restlessly pace the corridor of the B&B, trying to gather his courage to knock on Kay’s door. Since when could one feisty little woman make his knees quake?
He pushed his fingers through his hair and let out a long breath, which did nothing to ease the nervousness and self-reproach squeezing his gut. If he wasn’t careful he was going to mess things up royally with Kay.
He had fibbed to her, inadvertently embarrassed her, and that had never been his intent. He had to apologize, get back into her good graces.
Resolutely he knocked on her door.
“Should I go get Meggie?” Jake asked. “Just in case Kay decides to slam-dunk you down the staircase and you need the services of a trained RN?”
“Beat it.” Quinn glowered at his friend.
Chuckling to himself, Jake sauntered off, Lulu on his heels.
And Kay answered the door. “Oh. Are you still here?”
“Can we talk?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “So talk.”
“In private.” He waved a hand. “Eavesdroppers are rampant around here.”
She shook her head and studied him for a long moment. Should she stay mad? He gave her a sad expression. She opened her door wider. “All right.”
Quinn scooted over the threshold.
Kay shut the door behind him, then turned to face him. “Did you have fun embarrassing me in front of all your friends?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Wasn’t like what? I was terrified of that moose!” She punched him lightly on the shoulder. He arched his eyebrows in surprise. She wasn’t given to admitting feelings of weakness, and the fact that she had done so amazed her. But darn it, she had been scared.
“You told me you’d survived two muggings and it was no big deal. Why would a moose scare you?” Quinn looked genuinely puzzled.
“Because it’s the unknown. Why did you let me make a fool of myself?”
“I had no idea you were going to rush into Jake’s and call everyone to arms against Kong. What can I say? I liked it when you grabbed on to me, when you needed me to protect you.”
“Really?” She slanted him a sideways glance. She was flattered and she probably shouldn’t be, but truthfully it had made her feel very feminine to know this brawny man could protect her from wild creatures.
“Yeah. I am sorry—I acted like a jerk, Kay.”
Her name on his tongue tracked an unstoppable awareness through her. She pressed a hand to her stomach to still the fluttering there. A man who could admit when he was wrong? Unbelievable.
“Forgive me?”
“You’re forgiven,” she said.
“Forgiven enough so that you’ll agree to have dinner with me?”
“All right.” She nodded. “Just let me change.”
“I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”
Grinning, Quinn hurried back downstairs. Thank heavens she’d accepted his dinner invitation. He’d gone all out, preparing his famous salmon chowder, putting Coltrane on the CD player, chilling a bottle of champagne. He hoped he wasn’t going overboard or pushing too hard.
His stomach took a dive at the thought. He’d never felt so out of his element with a woman. He was used to cocking a seductive grin at the ladies and having them tumble right into his bed. Why this one caused him to doubt himself, he had no idea.
Maybe because he wanted her so badly.
A few minutes later Kay floated down the staircase. Once again every eye in the room was trained on her lithe, graceful form. Even Lulu thumped her tail approvingly from her place by the fire.
Quinn gulped. He could only stare, bug-eyed. She wore a black velvet long-sleeved dress and black high-heeled fashion boots. Not exactly Alaskan wear, but damn, those boots did fine things for her legs.
In that moment he flashed back to the first time he’d seen her on the plane. He recalled the way her legs looked encased in silk stockings. A rampant forest fire suddenly blazed through him, and he was at a loss for words.
The bodice of her dress clung snugly to her full breasts. The skirt swished seductively when she moved.
As she descended the last step, he stood up to greet her.
“Are you going to be warm enough in that outfit?” he asked.
She leaned in close, the hair on the top of her head tickling his nose. “Shh, don’t tell anyone. I have on long-handled underwear.”
That secret should have killed his libido-fed fantasies about satin and lace covering her silky skin. Instead he found himself even more aroused by the thought of her in cotton flannel. Perspiration beaded his brow.
He was a sick, sick man.
The sky was inky black as they walked to the SUV. This time of year they got only about five hours of daylight. He carried a flashlight and shone it over the parking lot to light their way, while keeping his arm firmly locked around Kay’s waist. He wasn’t about to let anything happen to her.
“I can’t believe how dark it is,” she whispered. “No streetlights. No cars on the road. Quiet as a cemetery.”
He tried to see Bear Creek from her point of view and failed. He considered the darkness comforting, the vastness of the landscape inspiring.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“My place.”
“Not to a restaurant?” Her voice rose on the question, as if she was nervous about his reply.
“The only restaurant open during the winter months is the Paradise Diner next to the B&B. You’ll be sick enough of it by the time you head back to New York.”
“Only one restaurant? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I’m not. Bear Creek’s winter population is about fifteen hundred.”
“And in the summer?”
“Late May through mid-August the population swells to three, four thousand, double that when the cruise ships are in town.”
“Wow.”
They arrived at his cabin, and he escorted her inside and took her coat.
“Something smells wonderful!” she exclaimed. “I’m starving.”
“Salmon chowder and grilled sourdough bread.”
“Sounds delicious.”
“Made it myself. The chowder that is, not the bread.”
She laughed.
Once in the kitchen, she enthused over the tablecloth, the candles, the champagne just as he’d hoped, and Quinn began to relax. He’d pleased her, which was precisely his intent.
He pulled back her chair for her. She smiled up at him. They ate and talked and ate and talked as if they’d been friends for a thousand years.
Quinn couldn’t quit staring at her. Whenever her pink tongue flicked out to take a morsel of food from her spoon, it felt as if she was licking him in a very private place. Several times he had to bite down on his bottom lip to keep from groaning out loud.
Kay was impressed that he’d worked so hard to make such a delicious meal. She admired his impeccable table manners and sent sideways glances at him. The candlelight accented his features. He’d rolled up his sleeves while serving their dinner, exposing those magnificent forearms that drove her wild with desire.
“So, Quinn, for the sake of the readers of Metropolitan magazine, what’s your idea of the perfect date?” she asked, desperate to get her mind off his extreme sexiness.
“We’re back to the article again.”
“Yes.”
“We’re having it.”
“What?”
“The perfect date.” He reached across the table, laid a hand on hers. “Good food. Great conversation. A pretty woman.”