Dutes™

Two brand-new stories in every volume…twice a month!

Duets Vol. #79

Delightful Lori Wilde delivers a very special Double Duets this month featuring THE BACHELORS OF BEAR CREEK, a miniseries about four fervent bachelors that began in Blaze with #30 A Touch of Silk. This author always “brilliantly weaves together lovable characters, charming scenes and a humorous story line,” say reviewers at Romantic Times.

Duets Vol. #80

Talented mother-and-daughter writing team Jennifer Drew is back with a mouthwatering story about a pastry chef wronged by a reporter, who then sets out to get his “just desserts.” Susan Peterson serves up the quirky, delicious Green Eggs & Sam about a sheriff named Sam, a sexy redhead and a puzzling case of foul play—or is that fowl play?

Be sure to pick up both Duets volumes today!

Sexy, Single & Searching

Eager, Eligible and Alaskan

Lori Wilde

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Contents

Sexy, Single and Searching

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Epilogue

Eager, Eligible and Alaskan

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Epilogue

Sexy, Single & Searching

Lori Wilde

Don’t be scared.

She was no longer meek little Cammie Jo, but fearless Camryn Josephine, up for whatever life might throw her way. And she was loving her new self.

Mack was studying her, his eyes hot. So hot, her clothes stuck to her body. Everywhere his gaze landed she seemed to burst into flames.

His gaze slid from her eyes to the bridge of her nose.

Ka-pow.

Her nose burned.

Hungrily he examined her lips.

Ka-bang!

Her mouth became an inferno.

Visually he caressed her jaw.

Ka-blewy!

Her chin was toast.

Wait a minute, where was he going with that naughty stare?

Ka-bam!

Her breasts erupted in sparks.

Help! Call 911. Get the fire department here pronto. Camryn Josephine was in nuclear meltdown!

Dear Reader,

Once upon a time, I was a very shy girl. I couldn’t speak to a boy, much less look him in the face. I didn’t go out on my first date until I was nineteen, and it was a total disaster. The guy didn’t even kiss me, and I was puckered up and ready.

The idea for Cammie Jo’s story came to me one day when I was recalling my painful youth. I would have given anything for a magic potion or a charmed amulet that would have allowed me to be brave.

So Cammie Jo is especially dear to my heart because she is a part of me. But Cammie Jo was lucky. She had the treasured wish totem to help her over her shyness. Me, I had to do it the hard way, one step at a time. But now I’m happy to say I’m far from shy and living my dreams writing romance novels for Harlequin.

I hope you enjoy reading Cammie Jo’s story. If it gives just one woman the courage to face her fears and go for her heart’s desire, I’ll be happy.

Don’t miss out on the other heroes in my BACHELORS OF BEAR CREEK miniseries. Read Jake’s story next in this very volume and coming in the fall from Blaze see what happens to Caleb and Meggie.

I love to hear from readers. Visit me at my Web site—www.loriwilde.com—or write to me at loriwilde@yahoo.com.

Happy reading!

Lori Wilde

Books by Lori Wilde

HARLEQUIN BLAZE

30—A TOUCH OF SILK *Bachelors of Bear Creek, Bk. 1

This book is dedicated to Jackie H.—

Goddess of all goddesses.

You pulled my hiney out of the fire.

Thanks for reminding me to protect the magic.

Prologue

WILD WOMEN WANTED! Do You Have What It Takes To Become A Wilderness Wife?

Cammie Jo Lockhart sat cross-legged on her bed, her laptop computer pushed to one side, staring down at page 110 of the glossy women’s magazine in her hand.

She should be working on her dissertation, she really should, but the photograph of four very eligible, very shirtless Alaskan bachelors provided a more provocative lure than “The Role of the Personal Computer in the Development of Archive Retrieval.”

She had been fascinated with the June issue of Metropolitan since her copy had arrived in her post office box in mid-May featuring the bachelors’ advertisement and the accompanying essay contest sponsored by the magazine. The winning entry would receive a two-week, all-expenses-paid vacation to Bear Creek, Alaska.

The trip was what interested Cammie Jo. The blue-jean clad, bare-chested hunks were just an added bonus.

Soon, the winner would be announced. Too bad she’d been too chicken to enter. Cammie Jo sighed, her gaze lingering on the picture she’d committed to late-night fantasy. Quinn Scofield, wilderness guide. Caleb Greenleaf, naturalist. Jake Gerard, B&B owner and last but not least, Mack McCaulley, bush pilot. All four were heart-stoppingly gorgeous but time and again, her eyes were drawn to Mack.

What a man, what a man, what a man. The guy was so hot her fingers scorched just turning the page to read about him.

He was everything she had ever wanted but could never have, with his sensual cleft chin, short dark-brown hair, sun-kissed cheeks and deep chocolate eyes. He had a defiant expression on his face as if to say, “I’m not scared of anyone or anything.” Something in his brave countenance called to the squeaky mouse inside her.

A rap at her door had her stuffing the magazine under the covers. She didn’t want her aunts in on the secret that Cammie Jo, serious academician, had a soft spot for a frivolous women’s magazine featuring silly articles on sex and love and romance.

She pushed her thick, black-frame glasses up on her nose, tucked an escaping hank of dishwater blond hair back into the loose bun piled atop her head.

“Come in.”

The door opened and her three great-aunts, whom she shared a home with near the University of Texas in Austin, peeked their heads in.

“Guess what?” Aunt Coco asked in a teasing singsong.

“It’s so exciting.” Aunt Hildegard’s blue eyes, the same color as Cammie Jo’s, twinkled.

“You won!” Aunt Kiki squealed and clapped her hands, unable to stand the suspense any longer.

“Won?” Cammie Jo blinked. “Won what?”

“The contest.”

“What contest?”

“The one in the magazine you love so much. You know, the one with the bachelors. The one giving away the free vacation.”

“But I never entered the contest,” Cammie Jo protested, realizing she was busted.

A sinking sensation plunged into the pit of her stomach at the same time a strange euphoria said hello to her heart. She thought of the brief passage she’d scribbled on a piece of scrap paper and tucked between the folds of the magazine, never meaning to send the thirty-words-or-less essay.

I want to go to Alaska because I’m very timid and more than anything in the world I long to be brave. If Alaska can’t save me, nothing can.

“We found your entry and sent it in for you.”

“No.” Cammie Jo shook her head.

“Yes.” Her aunts nodded in unison.

She would give anything to see the place of her intrepid mother’s birth, but she was terrified of flying, nervous around strangers, fearful of new situations, scared of wild animals, anxious when she got too far from home and apprehensive about making a fool of herself.

“I can’t.”

“We accepted for you. The plane tickets arrived in today’s mail.” Aunt Kiki handed her an envelope. “You leave tomorrow.”

“I can’t leave tomorrow!”

“Yes you can,” Hildegard interjected. “We already packed your bags. And I had your contact lens prescription renewed.”

“But I don’t like wearing contacts.”

“You need to play up your assets, dear. I even ordered a new color for you to try. Emerald green.”

“I didn’t write the entry because I was husband-hunting. I just want to visit Alaska.”

“And now here’s your chance.” Aunt Kiki winked. “You’re out of school for the summer, you have no excuses.”

“I have to finish my dissertation.”

“Which isn’t due until October.”

Cammie Jo shivered and stuffed her hands into the oversize pockets of her gray, shapeless jumper. “You guys know I’m too shy to travel. Fear kept me from mailing the essay myself.”

“But you want to go, don’t you?” Hildegard coaxed.

In the answer to that question lay the central paradox of Cammie Jo’s life. In spite of her inherent timidity, in spite of her natural reserve around people, in spite of the fact she spent her days cocooned in the cozy academic milieu of a graduate assistant, Cammie Jo longed for adventure. She craved to be brave, but deep inside she was nothing but a bashful wimp.

Her aunts exchanged glances.

“It’s time to tell her,” Aunt Coco said.

“Tell me what?”

“About the treasured wish totem,” Hildegard replied.

“The treasured what?”

Aunt Hildegard nodded at Coco. “You’re right. Fetch the amulet.”

Cammie Jo worried her bottom lip with her teeth while Coco disappeared. After a few minutes she returned with a gray metal lockbox and key.

Aunt Hildegard whispered, “When your mother realized she wasn’t beating cancer, she gave us this necklace, but made us promise not to let you have it until you were mature enough to handle the powerful magic.”

“What magic?” Cammie Jo didn’t understand.

“Open the box,” Hildegard urged. “There’s a letter from your mother.”

Her fingers trembled as she flipped open the lid and stared down at the whalebone necklace resting there. Attached to the bone beads was a hideous totem carving.

“Uh, gee,” Cammie Jo said, overcome with an urge to wash her hands. “It’s…”

“Vulgar. We know. But the totem’s crudeness is beside the point.” Aunt Kiki placed a hand on her shoulder. “Read the letter.”

Cammie Jo unfolded the yellowed notepaper. Her mother’s delicate script jumped out at her.

My dearest darling daughter,

By the time you read my letter many years will have passed since I held you in my arms.

I am passing on to you the only thing of value I have to bestow. The treasured wish totem has magical properties beyond the reasoning mind, but the power is very real. I instructed your aunts not to give you the necklace until you were old enough to know your heart’s desire. Whatever you wish for will come true. But there are conditions. You only get one wish for a lifetime, you must keep the necklace on your person and you must not tell anyone about the secret.

The doctors told your father and I that we could never have children. I wished on the totem for a beautiful, healthy baby, and look what I got!

Think about your wish long and hard, then ask for it. Believe, my darling and the world is yours!

Love forever,

Your Mother.

Blinking back tears, Cammie Jo reread the letter three times. “Omigosh.” She turned the necklace over in her hand. “Omigosh.”

Her mother had worn this odd jewelry, had believed in its peculiar magic. Well, if the necklace worked for Mama, maybe it would work for her. Cammie Jo steeled herself, then slipped the ugly thing over her head.

The totem rested between her breasts and a strange warmness, as if it had been lying in the sun instead of stored in a lockbox for fifteen years, heated her skin through the material of her blouse.

“Should I make my wish now?”

“No!” her aunts exclaimed.

“You must wait,” Hildegard cautioned, “until you know for sure what you want most. Once the wish has been made there’s no going back.”

“Remember, you can’t tell anyone else about the totem or it will defuse the magic.” Aunt Coco shook a finger.

“And don’t forget,” Aunt Kiki admonished. “Be careful what you wish for, because you will get it.”

1

“FIRST TIME IN ALASKA?” Mack McCaulley asked to make conversation.

It was three twenty-seven on a gorgeous Tuesday afternoon in late June, and they had been in the air for fifteen minutes. His passenger had yet to utter a single word. He was beginning to wonder if she was mute.

The petite young woman wedged beside him in his Beaver floatplane, dubbed Edna Marie after his beloved grandmother, bobbed her head.

An overabundance of clothing—upturned coat collar, turtleneck sweater, wool knit toque—almost swallowed up her round little face. And what the clothing didn’t obscure of her features, the thick glasses did.

When he had picked her up at the Anchorage airport, she’d reminded him of a nearsighted marshmallow, so swaddled was she in goose down. She had dressed for a winter in Antarctica, not a balmy sixty-degree day in Bear Creek.

No telling what kind of figure she possessed beneath the many layers. Not that he was interested.

Actually, she seemed more Caleb’s type. Quiet, studious, introverted. Mack could tell with one glance she was much too timid to make a good Alaskan wife. At least for him. He considered fortitude the number one quality he required in a mate, and this woman was about as brave as bumbling deputy, Barney Fife, from the old Andy Griffith Show.

She had inched into the plane, clutching at whatever handhold she could find as if she believed the metal might collapse beneath her insignificant weight. And when he’d placed a hand on her shoulder to help steady her, she’d gasped out loud at the casual contact.

What? Had she thought he would ravish her on the spot? Maybe he should tell her he always toasted his marshmallows before eating them.

In the ensuing moments since takeoff she had been staring at the floorboard, her hands clenched in white-knuckled terror.

“Uh-huh,” she spoke so quietly, Mack had to tilt his head and lean in her direction to hear. She had taken so long to respond he’d almost forgotten the question.

Thank heavens not all the women who’d shown up in Bear Creek following their advertisement in Metropolitan magazine were this uncommunicative. Mack smiled at the thought of his last fare. A foxy redhead with a killer figure who’d pressed her cell phone number into his hand and whispered, “Call me.”

Now, she’d seemed very adventuresome. Mack exhaled audibly. Yep, he and his three friends were in for a hot, hot summer.

Er…better make that two friends. Quinn was already spoken for, having courted and caught Kay Freemont, the beautiful reporter Metropolitan magazine had sent to cover their story.

And this particular bachelor’s curiosity was not piqued by the geeky lass beside him. He would be more than happy to dump her at Jake’s B&B and head back to Anchorage for another bunch of bachelorettes. His next passengers were sorority sisters from the University of Las Vegas. Those women had to be livelier than this one.

And he craved liveliness in his mate. He wanted an exciting wife who would embrace Alaska with all her heart and soul. A best friend. A woman who loved long dark winters and relished active sunny summers.

To Mack, fearlessness was the ultimate aphrodisiac.

In his pocket, he kept a “wife” list—an itemization of his future spouse’s ideal qualities. The list reminded him not to get sidetracked by a pretty face or a sexy body that turned out to have a couch potato soul, as he had in the past. As the last surviving McCaulley male he was serious about getting married and having kids. And he was very specific about what he wanted.

“But my mother was born in Alaska,” Miss Marshmallow whispered after a silence so long he jumped when she spoke. “She was a bush pilot like you.”

He almost didn’t catch the last bit. “For real?”

The woman bobbed her head.

“Where’s your mother from?”

“Fairbanks.”

Well, that explained her overdressing. Fairbanks, nearer to the Arctic Circle, was much colder than the southern coastal region.

“So you’re an Alaskan by proxy.” He smiled. Poor thing. He felt kind of sorry for her. He had a sneaking suspicion if he yelled “boo” too loudly she would faint dead away from fright.

“I guess so.”

“Your mom let you come here all alone?” Mack could have sworn she wasn’t any older than sixteen.

“Both my parents passed away when I was a kid.”

Way to go, McCaulley. Open mouth, insert size thirteen-and-a-half boot.

“Oh, wow. I mean, I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

“Did your folks die at the same time?”

“No. A car crash killed my dad when I was six.”

“That must have been terrible.”

She nodded. “My mom was so grief-stricken she didn’t take care of herself. The doctors refused to say losing the love of her life caused her cancer to grow, but I know better. She and my dad were true soul mates. She even gave up Alaska and her life as a bush pilot for him.”

“Your mom sounds like a hell of a woman.” Too bad the daughter hadn’t inherited any of her mother’s moxie.

“She was.”

“So you’re an orphan.”

“My three doting great-aunts raised me. So I never felt like an orphan. But I miss my mom.”

Her voice had gotten stronger as she spoke. She had the cutest little drawl. Mack had flown enough tourists in his day to pinpoint her heritage as Texas. Or maybe Oklahoma.

“It’s nice. That you’re not all alone, I mean.”

Geez, he sounded like an idiot. Good thing Miss Marshmallow wasn’t potential mate material. With these brilliant and insightful comments falling from his silver tongue, she would drop him like a stone and he couldn’t blame her.

“How about you?” she ventured in a whisper. “Are your parents still alive?”

“My father died last year. My mother?” He shrugged, not wanting to talk about his childhood. “She left me and my dad when I was eight. Couldn’t handle the Alaskan winters any longer. She lives in Georgia with husband number five or six, I forget which.”

“Do you ever see her?”

“Not much. She hates Alaska. Says the wilderness scares her.” He rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t have much staying power when it comes to relationships.”

“Maybe you should reach out to her. She could be lonely.”

Mack hooted. “She’s invited to a different party every night. I seriously doubt she’s lonely.”

“She hurt you when she left, didn’t she?”

Mack angled her a look. “Funny,” he snapped. “You seem too shy to be the nosy type.”

“I’m not. I mean…oh drat…how much longer until we reach Bear Creek?” she mumbled.

He’d cut her off short. Not very nice of him. Especially when he recognized that conversation did not come easily to her. But he didn’t want to discuss his erstwhile mother.

“About thirty minutes,” he said more gently.

“Oh.”

“Name’s Mack, by the way.” As a way to apologize for his rudeness, he stuck out a hand. “Mack McCaulley.”

She stared at his palm and hesitated a moment before slipping her slender hand into his, then pulling away as fast as she could.

What? Did he have cooties?

“I know who you are. I recognized your picture from Metropolitan magazine. Page 110. The four of you guys are sitting around without shirts on.”

“Ah, the infamous ad.”

She stared at his chest then, as if recalling how bare he looked in that confounded advertisement and her cheeks darkened to bright crimson.

“You’ve got the advantage because all I know is your last name.” He tapped his log book lying on the seat between them. “What’s your given name?”

“Cammie Jo.”

Had she said Tammie Jo? He couldn’t be sure, she had such a soft tone, but the name suited her. Old-fashioned, sweet, innocent. For no good reason, he had the strangest urge to wrap his arm around her to protect her from the big bad world.

“Pleased to meet you.”

“Pleased to meet you, too.”

She smiled and met his eyes at last, although she immediately glanced away again. But that rapid-fire smile did dazzling things for her—let’s admit the facts folks—rather plain-Jane face.

Mack returned his attention to business as they neared the mountain range that almost surrounded Bear Creek. Like most of the numerous mountains in Alaska, this cluster had no official name, but the locals called them the Tlingit Peaks for the original natives who’d inhabited the area.

He angled the nose of the floatplane upward as the majestic blue hunks of snowcapped jagged rock drew nearer. She sucked in her breath with an audible whoosh. Turning his head to look at her once more, Mack discovered she had her eyes clenched shut.

“Afraid of flying in small planes?”

Cammie Jo nodded and swallowed hard. “Any planes.”

It had taken a strong dose of Aunt Hildegard’s home-brewed chamomile tea and a meditation tape to even allow her to set foot on the dawn flight from Austin to Dallas/Fort Worth and then on to Anchorage. If she hadn’t wanted to see Alaska so badly, nothing would have persuaded her aboard.

And planes weren’t the only things that frightened her. Top on her list of phobias? Making small talk with handsome strangers. And not just any handsome stranger but the very bachelor she’d been fantasizing about.

Being here with him was too cool and too cruel. Out of all the bush pilots in Alaska, how had she ended up with the object of her affections?

Of course she hadn’t the faintest notion of competing with other women to become this man’s wife. Because of her shyness, she feared she would never find her true love the way her mother and father had found each other.

How she wished she was gutsy enough to flirt with him.

Ha! That would be the day.

She knew Mack wasn’t impressed with her. Men never were. He’d barely even glanced at her when she’d sidled up to where he’d stood in the airport, holding a placard with her last name written in a bold masculine hand.

But what about the treasured wish totem nestled in the bottom of her handbag, waiting for her to come to a decision? What if the necklace worked? She could wish for anything.

Bravery.

A husband.

True love.

Wishing doesn’t make it so, Cammie Jo. There’s no proof the necklace is anything more than suggestive jewelry.

No proof at all, except for the letter her mother had penned to her on her deathbed.

How she wanted to believe in the mystical power.

Mack’s gaze on her was disconcerting. Frankly, everything about him disconcerted her.

His outdoorsy, masculine scent when she was accustomed to delicate, feminine aromas like lilac and lavender and rose. His husky masculine voice when the dulcet, ladylike murmurs of her three aunts most often graced her ears. His stubble-darkened jawline when she was used to…well, okay, so Aunt Kiki did have a bit of a five o’clock shadow, but not when she regularly used her depilatory cream.

Anyway, he represented an alien creature, from the corded muscles of his wrists and forearms to his disheveled brown hair to his proud aquiline nose.

And in his presence Cammie Jo was as tremulous as a bunny rabbit at a hoot owl jamboree.

She turned her head to look out the window, but the closeness of the mountains in conjunction with the smallness of the plane unnerved her almost as much as the man beside her. She shifted in her seat and tried to cross her legs, not an easy feat in the many layers of puffy clothing she wore.

Accidentally, she kicked the handset mounted on the dash. The two-way radio slipped from its mooring and crashed to the floor of the plane.

Shy klutz, thy name is Cammie Jo.

“Omigosh. I’m so sorry.” She reached for the handset at the same time Mack leaned over and their heads cracked together.

“Ow!”

“Ouch, ouch, ouch.” She rubbed the bump on her noggin. Mack was wincing and doing the same.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized again. Without thinking, she reached out to touch the red angry welt forming on his forehead but he drew back.

“I’m okay.” His voice was gruff; his gaze fixed on a spot outside the windshield.

Mortified, she shrank into her seat.

Remember why you came here, she scolded herself. Not for love, not for romance, not to snag yourself a handsome bachelor but to face your fears, visit the land of your mother’s birth and to have a grand adventure.

And if she couldn’t face her darkest dreads? Cammie Jo gulped. She would no doubt end up single for the rest of her life, living in the same old house in Austin, teaching college and pining for what might have been.

No. She refused to hide from life any longer. So what if she had embarrassed herself in front of Mr. I’m-Too-Sexy-For-My-Shirt Bush Pilot. Big deal. She would live. No point putting the guy on a pedestal.

She might not be sexy and brave and graceful and totally feminine from her head to her toes, but she was whip-smart. She had maintained a perfect 4.0 GPA all through undergraduate school and a 3.9 during her graduate studies in information science.

So there. Pffttt.

She warmed to the subject. Who was he anyway? Sitting there looking so accomplished, so tough. Her own mother had been a bush pilot. How hard could flying a plane be? The guy wasn’t a brain surgeon or nuclear scientist. In fact, if she wasn’t so scared of flying, she could become a pilot if she wanted.

Oh yeah, dead easy to be courageous inside her own head.

On the outside was another story.

Do something brave, stare out the window, study the landscape. Imagine you’re piloting the plane.

Cammie Jo forced herself to look out the side window and wished she hadn’t.

The mountains were so very close and it looked as if Mack flew straight at them.

Her breath took its sweet time strolling from her lungs. Her pulse crescendoed in her ears.

I won’t look away, I won’t, I won’t. I’m brave. I’m strong, I’m invincible. I’m intrepid Camryn Josephine.

The nose of the plane dipped. The wing wavered. Startled, Cammie Jo’s eyes widened.

Was this normal?

She peeked over at Mack. He looked calm and controlled, but of course he would. He was the pilot. He wasn’t supposed to let on if things were bad.

The plane dove down, down, down in a rapid descent, falling into a small valley hidden between the massive mountains. She stared at the control panel, some gizmo spinning wildly as if they were in deep trouble.

Calm down.

But she couldn’t. Her stomach scraped the roof of her mouth. The sheer face of a mountain lay mere yards away. She spied trees and other vegetation and hey, was that a mountain goat?

Down, down, down. Almost at a ninety-degree angle. It couldn’t be normal to slip in so steep. Something had to be malfunctioning. She fisted her hands, fought for self-control and failed.

Aiyeeh! We’re gonna crash! Mayday! Mayday! Oh, shoot, I didn’t want to die a virgin.

Freaked out of her wits, Cammie Jo spun in her seat, unbuckled the belt, dove sideways and plowed her head into Mack’s lap.

Seconds later, when the plane leveled out and it became clear they weren’t crashing, Cammie Jo realized she had her face buried snugly in a strange man’s crotch.

2

“CAN I HELP YOU with something, Sugar Plum?”

Mack struggled hard not to laugh. His restraint was evident in the tightening of his thigh muscles, the wheezy quality of his voice rumbling from his chest. Chagrined, Cammie Jo’s head bobbed up as quickly as it had gone down.

She gulped. You could have fried an egg on her cheeks, they were that hot.

She wanted to explain, but just ended up mumbling incoherently, “I…bub…er…mum…ah…I…”

Desperately, she swiveled around in her seat, snapped her seat belt back in place and forced her gaze on the toe of her boot.

“Bear Creek usually makes a strong impression on people as we fly down in through the mountain pass. Some folks sigh. Others giggle with delight. I’ll have to admit no one’s had quite the same reaction as you.”

She was horrified at what she’d done. She could never face this man again. She would wait out the rest of her vacation in the B&B, then find herself another bush pilot to fly her back to Anchorage. She buried her face in her hands.

“We do go in at a steep angle,” he said, all traces of humor disappearing from his tone. “I should have warned you. I can see where your first up-close-and-personal view of the mountain might be scary.”

Oh great! Now he was feeling sorry for her. She didn’t know which was worse—being seen as a joke or a tragic figure.

“We’re landing on the water.” He leaned over to point out her window, bringing with him the scent of his soap and the foreign—at least to her unsophisticated nose—aroma of delectable man. “Just to forewarn you.”

Well, duh. She could have figured that out from the pontoons attached to the landing gear. Where was Mr. Reassuring Tour Guide when the plane was aiming straight for the mountain. Hmmm?

Cammie Jo spread her fingers and peeked out at the little town circling the bay. A couple of docked cruise ships and a plethora of other floatplanes were parked next to planked piers. She spotted salmon boats and kayaks paddling up smaller tributaries, while sailboats sluiced gracefully through the cove.

She forgot to be scared as Mack circled the inlet and curiosity vanquished her shame. She dropped her hands for a better look and studied the neat row of rustic houses and storefronts bordering the main avenue.

Bear Creek was gorgeous.

A rush of emotion swept over her. An odd sense of belonging. Even though she hadn’t been born here, even though she’d yet to set foot in this place, the bedtime stories her mother had told her about the magnificent state of Alaska bubbled up in her consciousness.

She felt as if she’d come home.

I’m having my first adventure, she thought, amazed. My first real honest to gosh adventure.

Now, if only she could work up the courage to try kayaking herself or salmon fishing, or maybe even join a group of hikers headed into the mountains.

She wanted so much and frankly, the intensity of these new desires alarmed her.

Mack set the floatplane down in the bay. A teenage boy waited on the dock to tie it up when they coasted to a stop. The teen helped her out of the plane, then took her bags from the cargo hold.

“This way, miss,” he said.

Cammie Jo looked at Mack. “Aren’t you coming?”

His eyes when they met hers were gentle. “I’ve got more passengers to pick up in Anchorage. Jimmy Jones will drive you to the B&B.”

“Oh, well then. I guess this is goodbye.”

Should she offer to shake his hand? Should she tip him? Cammie Jo juggled her carry-on bags and her purse, but by the time she got her hand free, Mack had already turned back to the plane.

Her heart told her stomach to scoot over because it was coming right on down. Her earlier euphoria at seeing Bear Creek dissipated.

He had already dismissed her. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Miss?”

Cammie Jo gave her attention to the smiling young man carrying her heavier luggage up the pier toward a vintage yellow touring car with Taxi printed on the door in bold black lettering. Already a few other passengers were seated inside.

“This way,” the teen prodded.

Okay, well, fine. She didn’t need Mack McCaulley to guide her through town. She would survive just dandy on her own. That’s what grand adventures were all about.

Right?

She struggled up the walkway. Her bags were too darned bulky and she tripped over a raised plank. Falling down didn’t hurt much—she was wearing lots of padding—but the giggles from inside the taxi skinned her pride.

And when she glanced back over her shoulder she saw that not only had Mack witnessed her third humiliation of the day but he was shaking his head to himself. Tears sprang to her eyes. Blinking them away, she pushed her glasses up on her nose.

I’m tough. I’m tough. I’m tough, she mentally chanted but she knew she was seriously deluding herself.

Jimmy, seeing for the first time she had taken a spill, rushed over to help her, but it was too late. What little courage she’d managed to drum up evaporated. Then, when she found herself settled into the taxi with four women so beautiful they could have stepped from the pages of Metropolitan magazine, Cammie Jo’s spirits joined her heart and her stomach in the bottom of her boots.

The women didn’t bother to introduce themselves. Since she certainly wasn’t comfortable initiating conversation with sleek-haired cover model types, she just leaned back against the seat, closed her eyes and pretended to nap on the quarter-mile journey to Jake Gerard’s bed-and-breakfast establishment positioned smack in the middle of town.

The lobby of the B&B was packed with additional attractive women and tons of ruggedly handsome men chatting them up. No one noticed her. She felt like a holey old gym sock stuffed in a drawer full of sexy lingerie. Now Cammie Jo remembered why she rarely ventured away from the world of academia.

Cammie Jo inched over to the front desk. She recognized the guy behind the counter as another one of the bachelors. He smiled at her.

“Hi, I’m Jake.”

Too shy to speak directly to such a handsome man, she rummaged through her purse for the reservation confirmation slip the magazine had mailed to her.

At first she couldn’t find it. Jake’s scrutiny made her sweat. Perspiration pooled in the hollow of her neck, then slid slowly down her breasts.

Ack! She had too much junk. She moved aside her hairbrush and her wallet. And there was that ugly amulet taking up so much room.

“What’s that?” Jake pointed to the totem.

Highly flustered, she pretended not know what he was talking about. “Oh, that’s a roll of peppermint candy.”

“Not that.” He pointed blatantly at the necklace, but she chose to pretend she didn’t understand.

“That’s my lip balm.”

“No, no, the other thing.”

“What other thing?” When all else fails, play dumb.

Jake’s eyes were glued to the totem. Why wouldn’t he stop staring at it? For goodness’ sake, it was embarrassing enough just having the item in her purse.

“Looks like an Aleut fertility totem to me. Very powerful stuff.”

“It’s not.” She snatched the necklace from her purse and jammed the unsightly thing into her pocket, safely out of Jake’s line of vision.

“Better be careful with it,” Jake warned and then winked. “Fertility totems possess potent magic.”

When she realized he was flirting with her, Cammie Jo’s face heated. She ducked her head and kept digging through her purse. Her hands shook. Finally she found the piece of paper and passed it across the desk to him.

He read it and said, “Welcome to Bear Creek, Camryn Josephine. We’re so glad to have you. Congratulations on winning the contest.”

Cammie Jo nodded. Her aunts had entered her under her full given name and that’s how the magazine had made her reservations. Except it seemed they’d forgotten the Lockhart part. Never mind. Josephine was her mother’s maiden name, and she liked using it. Besides, she wanted to get away from this desk as quickly as possible.

Jake handed her a key. “You’ve got the best room in the house. Number 12. Your luggage will be delivered shortly.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

“Oh, and if you want to sign up for any excursions, just let me know. Metropolitan is picking up the tab.”

“Excursions?”

“You know, salmon fishing, mountain-biking tours, that sort of thing.” He eyed Cammie Jo. “Although you might prefer something a little less strenuous. There’s a guided hike of the Tongass National Forest scheduled for tomorrow morning at seven.” He handed her a brochure. “Are you interested?”

Cammie Jo nodded, anxious to get up to her room where she could regroup. “Sounds fine.”

“Good. I’ll book you.”

Keeping her gaze on the floor, Cammie Jo scurried through the mob of people gathered around the staircase. She was wandering down the corridor, searching for room 12, when she saw the dog.

A Siberian husky.

Cammie Jo stopped, caught her breath.

She loved dogs but because of Aunt Coco’s allergies, she’d never been able to have one. She put her bags down and sank to a crouch.

“Come here,” she cooed.

In an instant the dog was at her side. Cammie Jo rubbed the pooch’s belly.

“I see you’ve met Jake’s dog, Lulu.”

She hadn’t heard him approach. She whipped her head up to see Mack grinning down at her.

Her heart did this crazy gymnastic thing.

Say something, stupid.

But her tongue lay cemented to the floor of her mouth. She couldn’t think of one intelligent thing to say. So much for being a Mensa member. Nervously, she stuffed her hand in her pocket and her fingers glided over the totem.

I wish I was brave enough to have a real conversation with this man.

Mack squatted beside Cammie Jo and scratched Lulu’s ears.

Lulu moaned in ecstasy.

He rocked forward. His knee bumped into Cammie Jo’s. If he didn’t move away soon, she would be doing a bit of moaning herself.

Pant, pant, pant.

Her right hand rubbed the dog’s belly. Mack’s left hand scratched under Lulu’s chin. He tilted his head and grinned at her in the muted hallway lighting.

“She’s adorable,” Cammie Jo ventured, keeping her gaze firmly focused on the husky.

“She’s a big old thief is what she is,” Mack said, with obvious affection.

“Not her,” Cammie Jo protested. “She’s too sweet.”

“Don’t let her looks deceive you and don’t leave anything you prize laying out. Lulu’s a kleptomaniac.”

“Surely you exaggerate?”

He shook his head. “Nope. She steals whatever she can get her teeth on. Jewelry, candy, socks, pens, car keys.”

Lulu whined and gave them an I-was-framed expression, as if she knew her thieving habits were the topic of conversation.

“Yeah, we’re talking about you,” Mack assured the dog. He stood and leaned nonchalantly with one shoulder against the wall.

Cammie Jo glanced up and realized she was eye level with the zipper of his blue jeans. Unnerved, she shot to her feet.

Mack’s eyes met hers.

She gulped then blurted, “Uh…what are you doing here? I thought you had to pick up more passengers in Anchorage.”

“I do,” he said.

Her hurly-burly heart lub-dubbed. Had he come looking for her? But why would he do that? His presence seemed so intimate, so cozy, so wrong. And yet her blood was singing through her veins like a chorus of Christmas carolers.

“Why are you here?”

“I found something under the passenger seat of my plane. Thought this might have fallen out of your luggage.”

“Oh?” She arched an eyebrow. No telling what she might have dropped in her haste to get away from him. “What is it?”

From his pocket he withdrew a thin scrap of scarlet silk and stretched it over his palm.

Cammie Jo pushed her glasses up on her nose and stared at what he held in his hand.

A pair of thong undies.

How in the world did women wear these silly things without getting a permanent wedgie? Just the idea of putting them on made her squirm with discomfort.

“Although,” he continued, “this type of undergarment doesn’t really seem your style. I thought it might belong to one of my previous passengers. I feel like Prince Charming going door to door trying to find the Cinderella that fits these panties.”

Normally, she would have been embarrassed witnessing a handsome man handle dainty undies, but the smug look on his face irritated her to the point where she just snapped. He was so certain she was a boring fuddy-duddy, that she would never wear something as brazen as this—which of course she wouldn’t, but he had no right to make such an assumption about her—that Cammie Jo fibbed.

“Yes, they are mine.” She snatched the panties from his grasp and thrust out her jaw, daring him to contradict her.

The expression of surprise on his face made her feel something she’d never felt before. Boldness? She prodded the emotion. No, not quite boldness, something saucier than mere audacity.

She rested her hands on her hips. His eyes tracked her movements. He gazed at her as if trying to picture her in that thong. He shook his head as if he couldn’t even visualize it.

Cammie Jo notched her chin upward and looked just above the top of his head. A trick she’d learned in graduate school when she had to give lectures to undergrads. Don’t make eye contact and you’ll be okay.

“What did you think? That I wear white cotton, high-waisted granny panties?”

Which was indeed exactly what she had on beneath her clothes. Aunt Hildegard did everyone’s underwear shopping during the twice-a-year white sales, and Cammie Jo had never cared enough about the issue to buy her own panties. But she would roll over and die before she would admit such a thing to Mack, who thought he had her pegged right down to her choice of lingerie.

“I never said that.” A speculative note crept into his voice and in that moment Cammie Jo was able to label the amazing new sensation churning inside her.

By gum, she was feeling cocky. Puffed up with pride and ready to take whatever he dished out.

“I’m much more than I appear on the surface, Mr. McCaulley. Still waters run deep.”

“Apparently so.” He seemed a bit taken aback.

“Thong undies are just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes it is.”

“Okay, then. I believe you. They’re your panties. Mystery solved.”

“Anything else?” she sassed. She was astonished, pleased and giddy with the thrill of her new-found bravado.

“Nooo. Guess that’s it.”

It was only later, after he’d sauntered away, that Cammie Jo realized from whence her unexpected bravery had sprung.

The treasured wish totem resting in her pocket.

3

ONCE SHE WAS safely ensconced in her room, Cammie Jo took off some of her layers of clothing and moved to stare out the window overlooking Main Street.

People crowded the road, wandering in and out of the shops and restaurants. Honestly, she hadn’t expected so much activity. Crowds made her nervous.

Everything makes you nervous. Like good-looking bush pilots.

A sudden rap at the door startled her so much she almost fell off the window seat.

Was it Mack?

Holding her breath, Cammie Jo crept to the door. Rats! No peephole. And no chain.

Timidly, she cracked the door open and peeked out. A gorgeous woman who looked like the actress Charlize Theron stood there smiling at her, a pen and notebook in her hand.

“Hi,” she said.

“Uh, hi,” Cammie Jo responded, impressed with the woman’s smartly tailored clothes and flawless skin.

“I’m Kay Freemont with Metropolitan magazine, and I’m the one who picked your entry to win the free vacation. I’d like to interview you if I may.”

“Oh.” Cammie Jo opened the door wider. “Come on in.”

Kay stepped into the room and Cammie Jo closed the door behind her.

“Did you come all the way from New York just to interview me?”

“No.” Kay’s smile crinkled the corners of her brown eyes. Cammie Jo realized that even though Kay looked very worldly and sophisticated, she was only a couple of years older than her own twenty-five years. “I live in Bear Creek now.”

Cammie Jo gestured at the window seat, not all that comfortable with playing hostess. She glanced over at the totem, which she’d placed on the dresser after that scary-but-thrilling encounter with Mack in the hallway. She wasn’t quite sure if she was ready to handle the consequences of wearing the necklace.

“Thank you.” Kay sat by the window while Cammie Jo perched on the end of the bed.

She ran her palms over the tops of her thighs, a habit of hers when she was nervous or uncertain.

“Relax.” Kay’s smile deepened. “This won’t hurt a bit, I promise.”

“I’ve never been away from home before,” Cammie Jo confessed.

“Alaska can be overwhelming, even for a world traveler,” Kay assured her. “I first came here in February. Talk about overpowering.” She shook her head. “So tell me, Cammie Jo, why are you interested in becoming a wilderness wife?”

“What?”

“You did enter the contest hoping to meet the bachelor of your dreams, didn’t you?” Kay sat, pen poised over notebook waiting for Cammie Jo’s response. “Although I’ve got to tell you, Quinn’s no longer on the market.” Laughing, Kay held up her left hand to show off a diamond engagement ring. “We’re getting married next month.”

“Hey, that’s great.”

“So.” Kay lowered her voice. “Which bachelor are you interested in?”

“Can I be honest with you?” Cammie Jo shifted on the thick comforter.

“By all means.”

They talked for a long while. Cammie Jo told her about her great-aunts, and how their attempts to shelter her had resulted in Cammie Jo being afraid of her own shadow.

“So getting married is really the last thing on my mind,” Cammie Jo said. “I need to stretch my wings and fly. I need to discover who I am before I’ll ever be ready for marriage. I hope that doesn’t disqualify me from the free vacation.”

Kay shook her head. “Your reasons are your own. You won the contest fair and square. If you’re not interested in any of the bachelors, that’s fine. I don’t think they will suffer. Ever since the article ran women have been arriving in Bear Creek by the hundreds. It’s a modern-day gold rush but instead of gold, the hunt is on for eligible men.”

No kidding. Cammie Jo had seen the hordes of women strolling the streets of Bear Creek.

Kay smiled. “The bachelors, in conjunction with the magazine, are throwing a party tonight at the community center across the road. Seven o’clock and you’re the guest of honor.”

Cammie Jo ducked her head. “I’m really not much on parties.”

“Now, now, didn’t you come here to overcome shyness? A party is a great way to start.”

“But I don’t have anything appropriate to wear.”

Kay looked her up and down. “You’re a few inches shorter than I am, but I’m betting we’re the same size. What about shoes? What size do you wear?”

“Six and a half.”

“Hey, me too. Imagine that. I’ll bring over a selection of dresses and shoes. Then I’ll help you do your hair and makeup.”

Two hours later, after Kay had returned to create Cammie Jo’s metamorphosis, she stepped back from the mirror so Cammie Jo could see the results.

“Ta-da!”

Cammie Jo stared owl-eyed. No. It couldn’t be. This wasn’t her. Her pulse thundered. Her head spun. Kay was a wizard with a makeup brush.

“I can teach you how to do this for yourself if you want.”

“Oh, yes,” Cammie Jo breathed.

The woman staring back at her was a complete stranger.

This woman was beautiful.

Her eyes were not Cammie Jo’s normal blah blue but a deep shade of emerald-green, converted into something mesmerizing by the colored contacts. Her round chipmunk cheeks had disappeared. Instead it seemed as if she possessed high, sculpted cheekbones. Her lips were full and pouty; her skin as luminous as dew-kissed blades of grass.

And her hair.

Oh, her once plain brownish-blond hair! Now, it hung down her back in a myriad of loose, shiny curls. She sucked in her breath, totally stunned by the transformation.

“Wow,” she whispered. “Wow.”

“That’s what every bachelor in Bear Creek will be saying. I’ll leave you to get dressed. Gotta go change myself and meet Quinn at the community center. Come on over when you get ready.”

“Okay.” Cammie Jo nodded. “Thanks for everything.”

“You’re welcome.”

Once Kay had gone, Cammie Jo hugged herself, feeling simultaneously excited and scared. First a total makeover and now a party? Her? There would be lots of handsome men in attendance. Shivers pushed down her back. And a lot of beautiful women to compete against.

She thought about having to make conversation with strangers—it had been hard enough talking to Kay, but the woman had a journalist’s flair for drawing people out. The very idea of chit-chatting with people she didn’t know made her want to flee screaming into the wilderness.

And yet, she wanted to go so much.

Make a wish and you can have your heart’s desire.

She moved toward the dresser, picked up the necklace and wrapped one hand around the totem, tentatively rubbed it with a thumb and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

“Please,” she whispered. “Grant me my most treasured wish. Make me strong and brave. Take away my fears, vanquish my shyness, free me from my own insecurities.”

She slipped the necklace over her head, gave a sharp “eek” of surprise at the unexpected warmth. The totem had certainly seemed to work when she’d sassed Mack in the hallway. Plus, Jake said it was an Aleut fertility totem and it possessed potent magic.

Truth be told she had the sudden urge to stand up straight, throw back her shoulders and yodel from the rooftop, “Look out Bear Creek, here comes Camryn Josephine.”

MACK COULDN’T GET enough of staring at the fine-looking women packing the streets of Bear Creek. When he and his three friends had taken out that ad, he had no idea women would appear like snow-flakes in winter.

He was loving the attention. As he’d hoped, the sorority sisters from UNLV had been a lot more fun than Tammie Jo Lockhart, although he suspected they’d had one too many cocktails on the plane.

One of the daring lasses had even pinched him on the butt when he’d unloaded their luggage. Mack wasn’t sure whether he liked that or not. He preferred daring women, sure, but there was something to be said about respecting a man’s private parts until you got to know him a little better.

He thought of tremulous Tammie Jo plunging her face into his lap when she believed the plane was crashing and Mack had to laugh. Okay, she had violated his private parts too, but not intentionally. She’d just been scared.

It was almost seven o’clock, and he was heading to the party Quinn and Kay had organized to celebrate the arrival of the contest winner. He wore a tuxedo at Kay’s insistence and he tugged at the stiff, choke-a-man collar. She’d had the four bachelors outfitted from some place in Anchorage, and he hated wearing the monkey suit. Kay had told him to get used to it since undoubtedly his bride-to-be, whoever she was, would expect him to stand at the altar in one.

Mack almost said he wasn’t marrying that kind of woman but quickly shut his mouth because that’s exactly the kind of woman Kay was. And the last thing he wanted was to hurt her feelings.

But Mack’s dream wedding would consist of something adventuresome. Like getting hitched in hiking gear atop a glacier. That’s the kind of woman he wanted for a wife. Gutsy, courageous, up for anything. The exact opposite of what his weak-willed mother had been like.

His mind was wandering down this familiar but unpleasant train of thought when from his peripheral vision he caught a glimpse of a woman strutting down the sidewalk.

She moved like a regal queen. Confident, self-assured, poised. Her hair, a tantalizing caramel color, floated down her back in a spiral of curls that made Mack think of pecan taffy, and his imagination triggered his mouth to fill with the sweet, buttery taste of nutty candy.

An incredible black dress made of some soft clingy material hugged her curves snugger than a label on a wine bottle. The skirt had this amazing little tattered hem that fluttered like a handkerchief around the most sensational calves he’d ever seen.

She was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

His mouth went dry. His eyes bugged. His palms grew sweaty on the steering wheel.

Who in the thunder was she? He hadn’t flown in any woman who looked like that over the last couple of days. He would have remembered. It must have been one of the other bush pilots. The lucky devil.

Her shoulders were thrown back, her head held high, her eyes fixed straight ahead. She stalked forward on four-inch heels like she owned the world. Instant admiration sprung in his chest. His kind of gal.

Wait a minute, what was that she was wearing around her neck?

Stunned, he stared at the lewd totem bouncing off her perky breasts and he was completely mesmerized.

So mesmerized, in fact, that when she stepped off the curb in front of him, Mack’s foot accidentally hit the accelerator instead of the brake.

Good Lord, he was about to kill a dream walking!

He slammed on the brakes while simultaneously jamming on the horn. His tires squealed in protest at the sudden pressure and his stomach vaulted into his throat.

The woman turned to look at him, an expression of shocked surprise in her wide green eyes. Mack sprang from the front seat, rounded the hood and was devastated to see that he had stopped mere inches from her gorgeous body. His heart pounded so hard he feared it would jackhammer a hole through the bottom of his foot.

At first, she leveled him an insouciant stare, as if it were all his fault. Then she blinked and said in a voice that sounded vaguely familiar. “Goodness, did I step right out in front of you?”

“Yes,” he said, feeling bashful as a boy for absolutely no good reason at all. “You did.”

“Aren’t I lucky that you have lightning-fast reflexes.”

He couldn’t stop staring at her. Couldn’t reconcile her calmness with his own flustered state of agitation. Didn’t she recognize that he had almost killed her? Or at the least given her a whoop knot bad enough to land her in the emergency ward.

“I’m sorry. I was so busy looking for the community center, I simply didn’t see you.”

His mouth hung open. He had a sudden desperate desire to touch her and it was all he could do to keep his hands to himself. “You’re going to the Metropolitan party?”

She nodded.

“Me too. Come on.” He reached out and took her by the hand. A shudder of yearning passed through him. How could one woman knock his world so completely out-of-kilter? He inhaled deeply. He couldn’t let her see how much she affected him. Not now. Not yet. “Let’s get you out of the road.”

“What?” She blinked her big green eyes at him, and he was a goner.

“Let’s get out of the road.”

“Oh. Okay.”

All right, so she wasn’t a brainiac. Big deal. She possessed a figure to make angels cry hallelujah.

Um, McCaulley, what’s number seven on your list? His conscience nudged.

Mentally Mack rolled his eyes at that nagging voice. Intelligence was number seven on his “wife” list.

He’d written down that trait for a reason. He had a tendency to get involved with beautiful but flighty airheads who thought putting down roots meant bleaching your hair.

Give this one a chance, he argued with himself. Just because she stepped out in front of his truck didn’t mean she was dumb. Everyone made mistakes. Hadn’t he hit the accelerator instead of the brake?

He settled her in the passenger seat beside him, then drove the short distance to the community center parking lot. Heads turned to stare at them when they walked up the pathway.

Where on earth had she come from? This exotic fantasy dropped into his tiny corner of Alaska.

You’re not looking for a fantasy, pal. You’re looking for a wife.

Shut up, already. I’m just walking her into the party, not getting down on one knee.

That was good because he didn’t even know if this woman was interested in getting married. Or if she was even interested in him.

And then there was that…thing she had on around her neck. What in the hell was that all about?

“Name’s Mack, by the way, Mack McCaulley.” He stuck out his hand.

She studied him a moment. “Haven’t we already met?” she asked finally in a breathy whisper.

“Oh no, ma’am. I would never forget a lady like you.”

For some reason his statement caused her to frown in displeasure when he figured she should have been flattered. What had he done wrong? Could they have met before? He paused a moment to think. Nah. He would have remembered her.

“I’m Camryn,” she said after a moment. “Camryn Josephine.”

He grinned. “Like Cameron Diaz?”

“Pronounced the same but spelled differently.”

“Still.” He wriggled his eyebrows and hoped he was forgiven for whatever he had done to make her frown. “It’s a very sexy name.”

“Thank you.”

He pushed open the door and escorted her into the community center. Kay and Quinn came over to greet them. Camryn leaned over and said something to Kay.

“You’re kidding.” Kay laughed at whatever it was Camryn had told her, then Kay looked at Mack with a disapproving gleam in her eyes.

What? Now it was Mack’s turn to frown. What on earth had he done, dammit? He hated being talked about behind his back. It brought back bad childhood memories from the time his mother had run off with another man. And from the time his first serious girlfriend had dumped him for a software program designer who pulled down a high six-figure salary.

“Am I missing out on a joke?” he asked Kay.

“You could say that,” Kay demurred. “Do you have any idea who she is?”

“No.” Mack snorted in exasperation.

“She’s the winner of the Metropolitan magazine contest.”

“No kidding.”

Hmm, that meant she probably was interested in snagging a husband. The plot thickened. Mack looked at her with new possibilities but Camryn still seemed miffed with him for some reason. He wanted to make amends and quick.

Kay locked arms with Camryn and whisked her away before Mack could protest. “I’ll bring your date back in a minute.”

“I’m not Mack’s date,” Cammie Jo murmured to Kay once they were out of the men’s earshot.

“He thinks you are.” Kay guided her up a staircase to the second floor and pushed open the door to the powder room. She stopped in front of the mirror, pulled a comb from her purse and ran it through her sleek blond hair.

“No he doesn’t. He doesn’t even recognize that I’m the same person he flew in from Anchorage this afternoon. He thinks I’m some gorgeous creature.”

Kay gave her an appraising glance. “Well, sweetie, in Mack’s defense, you do look like an entirely different woman.”

“It’s irritating. When I was Cammie Jo he didn’t give me the time of day. But as Camryn Josephine, he can’t be solicitous enough.” Cammie Jo folded her arms across her chest, felt the smooth sleekness of the totem against her forearm.

“That’s men for you.”

“And that’s precisely why I’m not interested in them. It doesn’t matter that I have an IQ of 145. All that matters is that I look good in a dress.” Camryn snorted.

“Don’t judge them too harshly,” Kay said. “You’ve got to remember in Bear Creek the men outnumber the women ten to one. That’s why the bachelors advertised for wives. And the women that do live here are practical, rural women who don’t have much use for makeup and designer clothes. This publicity-generated infusion of femininity has gone straight to their heads.” Kay giggled conspiratorially. “Quinn’s ape crazy over my collection of provocative stockings.”

“Promise me you won’t tell Mack what I’m really like.”

“What do you mean?” Kay applied a fresh layer of lipstick to her full lips, then passed the tube to Cammie Jo.

Cammie Jo swept her hand at her sexy outfit. “I’m not really beautiful and sophisticated and self-confident.”

“Don’t be silly, of course you are. You just needed a little makeover.”

Kay didn’t understand. This transformation wasn’t the result of a little blush, a push-up bra and a new color of contact lens. Only the totem could have wrought such a change, and she couldn’t explain that to her new friend. For one, she didn’t want to sound like a nutcase and for two, she certainly didn’t want to chance defusing the magic by talking about it.

“Please, just don’t tell Mack I’m Cammie Jo. Okay?”

“Sure, honey. Whatever you want.” Kay squeezed her hand.

“Thanks.”

“Now let’s get back out there. We’ve kept the men waiting long enough.”

They returned to find the party gearing up. More guests had filtered in. The band was playing some current, chart-topping country-and-western tune. Mack was standing near the front door, his eyes on her. He was resplendent in that tuxedo. Every little girl’s dream date. In fact, he looked as if he could grace the top of a wedding cake.

Cammie Jo hadn’t taken five steps toward him when she found herself surrounded by men. For a second, panic set in. Then she took a deep breath and reminded herself there was no reason to be afraid. She had the treasured wish totem, which she had decided looked less suggestive in plain view than tucked into her dress. She tugged on the totem and told herself not to get embarrassed. If they wanted to gawk, by George, let ’em gawk.

That ought to give Mack something to think about.

4

MACK STOOD BY the punch bowl glowering at Jake, who’d scooped Camryn out from under him. He glared while his best friend waltzed his dream woman around the dance floor.

No fair! He had seen her first. Had almost ran her down in fact, because he’d been studying her so hard.

He admired Camryn’s graceful movements. Enjoyed the way her dress swirled and flared around her legs. A bullet of jealousy shot through him when she cocked her head upward and smiled at something Jake said. He shouldn’t be jealous. He wasn’t much of a dancer himself. Let her have fun with someone who didn’t possess two left feet.

So why the burning sensation in his gut? Camryn’s hair fanned out, swirled behind her as she danced. Mack found himself enchanted by that twirling mane and he wasn’t the only one. He spied many covetous glances angling her way from the numerous single men lined against the wall.

She might be pretty but it really wasn’t enough. Not anymore. Secretly, he was terrified of making a grave mistake, of picking a woman too beautiful and delicate to survive in his homeland. That’s why he had the “wife” list.

Mack patted his breast pocket, then remembered he was wearing a tuxedo and had left his list at home. No matter. He knew the requirements by heart. His ideal woman would be brave, feisty, loyal, trustworthy, adventuresome, honest and intelligent. Just like his grandmother.

When Jake had seen his list, he’d retorted that what Mack wanted was a Boy Scout, not a wife. Mack had pondered on Jake’s comment for a few days, then added: a sense of humor, likes to snuggle and doesn’t mind being spoiled. He hadn’t shown that part of the list to Jake. A man could only take so much razzing from his friends.

He didn’t know if Camryn possessed all the qualities he needed or not. They’d shared a connection, a moment. Only getting to know her better would tell if their initial attraction was anything more than superficial sexual awareness. He didn’t have time to waste on meaningless affairs. Been there, done that.

He’d just turned thirty-one and while he’d never heard of men having biological clocks, damned if he didn’t hear this strange ticking in the back of his head.

He didn’t want to be an older single parent like his father. Pop had been forty-two when Mack was born and in a wheelchair with rheumatoid arthritis by the time Mack was thirteen. He wanted to have his kids while he was still young enough to pitch a baseball and hike a mountain and shoot a hockey puck. Mack had learned that experiencing life to the fullest was the only way to live. Because you just never knew what the future held.

Well, buddy, you won’t find out anything about Camryn standing here on the sidelines. Get out and get into the game.

The band switched tunes, going from a jazzy rock beat to a slow, dreamy waltz at the same moment Mack tapped his buddy on the shoulder.

“Do you mind?” he said to Jake, then to Camryn, “May I have this dance?”

Jake shrugged, nodded. Camryn smiled and held out her arms to him.

That’s what he liked most about her, the way she met his gaze head-on. Clear and straight, with nothing to hide. She didn’t act coy, nor did she present an overly aggressive demeanor like that grabby UNLV sorority sister. She was honest, open, flexible.

On the surface she seemed to be everything he’d been dreaming of when he placed that advertisement with his friends.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hello.” Simple, direct, no game-playing.

Camryn pushed a tendril of hair from her face and tried her best not to drop her gaze. Mack looked unbelievably handsome in a tux.

Don’t be scared, she coached herself. You’ve got the treasured wish totem around your neck and you’re having the adventure of a lifetime.

She was no longer meek little Cammie Jo, but fearless Camryn Josephine, up for whatever life might throw her way. And she was loving her new self.

Mack took her in his arms. Oh yes! He was all brawn and muscle and sinewy male.

Being held like this was an eye-popping experience for her, startling and novel. His body heat, so incredibly thermal, slipped into her skin roasting her from the inside out. His smell clobbered her senses, left her addled with yearning. Oh, she was falling too fast, stumbling too quickly out of her element and her normal comfort zone.

Dazed, Cammie Jo just stared at him. Her brain had turned to banana pudding.

“I’m not a very good dancer,” he apologized. Oh baby, I don’t care.

Lucky for them both Aunt Kiki had once been a professional dance instructor, otherwise Cammie Jo wouldn’t have known a fox trot from a fox hole.

Then she realized Mack thought she was staring at him because he’d just crunched her toe, but honestly, she’d barely noticed. She was concentrating on those sultry eyes that smoldered with a banked sexuality.

“I might not be much of a hoofer,” Mack continued, and here his gaze roved downward to peruse her lower extremities with obvious appreciation. “But you’ve got legs just built for dancing.”

In the past, she would have blushed at his compliment but tonight she accepted his appraisal as a matter of course. By gum, she did have rather nice legs. It was about time someone noticed.

Don’t hide your light under a bushel. One of her mother’s favorite sayings sprang to mind. Even when she was little she recalled her mother worrying that she was too shy, too modest, too introverted by half, and she’d struggled hard to draw Cammie Jo from her shell.

“So,” he said. “What do you do for a living, Camryn?”

Should she tell him the truth? Would he be impressed or turned off by an academic? But she couldn’t lie even if she wanted to. She couldn’t think fast on her feet.

“I’m working on my Ph.D. in information science. And I teach undergraduate classes at the University of Texas.”

“Really? That surprises me.”

“Why? Do I look dumb?”

“No, no. Of course not. It’s just that information science seems like a profession that would attract an introvert, not a gregarious lady like yourself.”

“You think I’m gregarious?”

Oh lovely, Cammie Jo. Tip your hand on the first day.

“Sure. You’re so at ease in a crowd.”

She almost laughed out loud. No one had ever paid her that particular compliment.

Mack was studying her, his eyes hot. So hot her clothes stuck to her body. Everywhere his gaze landed she seemed to burst into flames as if he possessed a kind of libidinous pyrokinesis.

His gaze slid from her eyes to the bridge of her nose.

Ka-pow!

Her nose burned.

Hungrily, he examined her lips.

Ka-bang!

Her mouth became an inferno. Visually he caressed her jaw.

Ka-blewy!

Her chin was toast.

Wait a minute, where was he going with that naughty stare?

Ka-bam!

Her breasts erupted in sparks.

No, no, don’t go any lower. Please.

Ka-sizzle!

Her abdomen caught ablaze.

He raised his eyes to hers briefly, then with a devilish grin he dropped his gaze to the lowest point yet.

Her pelvis. Oh her pelvis!

Whoosh!

Backdraft.

The Yellowstone forest fires had nothing on what was raging down there. Help! Call 9-1-1. Get the fire department over here pronto. Camryn Josephine was in nuclear meltdown.

They were moving around the dance floor, albeit not in time to the music. They could have been handcuffed together in solitary confinement, so oblivious was Cammie Jo to any stimuli other than Mack’s dangerous eyes. The Occupational Safety and Health Administration should look into labeling those incandescent orbs with a high octane warning.

“Thirsty?” he asked when the band took a break.

She nodded, her insides nothing but vapor. No, not thirsty. Parched, scorched, desiccated.

“Let’s grab some punch, get some fresh air.”

“Sounds good,” she murmured and was shocked to hear her own voice come out as seductive and husky as a whiskey-voiced blues singer.

He wrangled them a couple of glasses of punch and a few cookies and steered Cammie Jo to the back door of the community center. When the heavy metal fire door clanged closed behind them, she took a deep breath and looked up at the sky, surprised to find it was still bright daylight despite being past nine o’clock at night.

Summer in Alaska.

Cammie Jo gazed at the mountains in the distance and nibbled on an almond cookie to collect herself. The breeze blew cool against her skin and that helped soothe her feverish thoughts, until Mack came to stand directly behind her.

She could feel his manly presence.

Felt his gaze drop onto her body, her hair, every darned where.

Talk about sensory overload. If she didn’t have the totem, Cammie Jo would have run for the safety of the B&B long ago. Heck, let’s be honest. She would never have left her room in the first place. She would be curled up on the bed sipping hot cocoa and watching old movies.

Bor-ing.

“Your punch,” he said and held out a cup.

She took it from him and their fingers brushed. She concentrated on sipping to keep from meeting his gaze once more. Her core body temperature had to be a hundred and ten. She didn’t think she could stand any more heat.

I’m brave. I’m strong. I’m courageous. Nothing but nothing scares me. Not even a man with Fourth of July rockets for eyes.

“You’re very beautiful,” Mack said, taking a step closer.

“Thank you.”

I simply will not blush and I won’t back up. I won’t! Camryn would be accustomed to receiving and deflecting advances from amorous admirers, but Cammie Jo was not.

“I suppose you hear that all the time.” She affected a ho-hum expression. “Not as much as you’d think.”

He took another step forward.

Her heart clattered like an aging engine on low-octane fuel.

“I’d like to get to know you better.”

Cammie Jo couldn’t help noticing the dimple carved in his cheek and the provocative twinkle in his eyes. Was he asking her out?

“Really,” she murmured.

“Yeah. I’ll admit it. Out of all the women who’ve shown up in Bear Creek over the last couple of weeks, you’re the only one who’s really raised my interest.”

“And why is that?”

He cocked his head and a sheaf of dark-brown hair shifted over his side part. “You’re something of a mystery, and I love solving puzzles.”

“Oh you do?” She couldn’t believe how easily she was flirting, how she was matching his stare without blinking or turning red as a boiled lobster. She took a bite of cookie, ran her tongue along her lips for effect.

“I do.” His eyes tracked the movement of her tongue.

“Well good for you.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not.”

“Where did you come from, Camryn Josephine?”

He raised a hand and for one jumpy moment she thought he might touch her, but instead he reached out to brace his palm against the side of the building and lean in toward her. His scent was pure heaven. He was close enough so that she could see just how long and lush his lashes were. They looked supple as sable and softened his direct, inquisitive eyes.

“Out of the blue.”

“I believe you,” he murmured. “You’re that unique.”

She’d never been in such an intimate position and she found she loved being close to this glorious representative of the male species.

“How are you when it comes to adventure?”

“How do you mean?”

“Do you like the outdoors? Are you game for mountain biking and kayaking and salmon fishing?” He waited, and it seemed, held his breath.

Goodness, what was the correct answer?

She thought of the ad, visualized the caption underneath the picture.

Wild Women Wanted.

Could she be wild enough for this man? She moistened her lips with her tongue, tasted the too-sweet flavor of strawberry-banana punch mingling with the almond of the cookie she’d just finished.

“I’ll take any adventure you can throw my way and eat it up with both hands.”

He hissed in his breath as if his mind had conjured some very wicked adventures indeed. “Anything?”

“Anything,” she declared, happy she had wondrous magic to help her keep that vow.

“Wait a minute.” Mack was suddenly looking at her real funny, staring at her mouth.

Uh-oh. Had he finally figured out she wasn’t really brazen Camryn, but shy Cammie Jo? A moment of fear licked through her before she remembered her wish.

Reaching out, he smoothed his thumb over the corner of her mouth.

Cammie Jo shivered. What was he doing?

“Cookie crumb,” he said.

“Oh.”

But the crumb was gone and he was still here, his face so very close to hers.

“Not so fast.” His arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her flush against the length of his body.

Good thing there wasn’t a maximum speed limit for pulses. She’d be liable for the highest fine imaginable.

Then he lowered his head and took her mouth with his own.

She was in heaven. But when he pressed his tongue to her closed teeth, she jumped back startled.

Mack blinked. His initial thought was one of complete surprise. Camryn Josephine knew next to nothing about kissing. But how could that be? Surely this hot, sassy babe had kissed dozens of men, if not hundreds.

Maybe she’d given him the weird, platonic-but-not-quite kiss because she was uncertain of her feelings. Mack scratched his head and looked down at her.

She was such a cute little thing. All curves and dips, so different from his own hard, angular body.

The woman might not be clear on her feelings, but he was clear on his. He wanted to taste more of her, go deeper, explore. See if she could indeed be the woman he was searching for.

He hooked his index finger under her chin, lifted her face up to meet his again. He watched the pulse in her neck jump with anticipation. Slowly, he lowered his lips to that throbbing beat and kissed her exposed throat with the lightest touch he could manage, heightening the anticipation.

Her skin was hot and getting hotter by the minute. The more his tongue laved over her rapidly pounding pulse, the faster it beat.

Mack felt her tremble. Her escalating excitement matched his own. Did her quest for adventure include those of the flesh?

He wanted her with a sharp spike of desire that stabbed straight through his groin. But letting lust rule his head was not the way to go.

No. As much as he might want to, he wouldn’t drag her home to his bed. But he would sample another taste of those lips. Just to give himself something to think about.

He took her mouth in a heated rush. She gasped into him. She tasted so exquisite he almost groaned.

The feminine scent of her filled his nostrils. He felt her chest raising raggedly against his own. He threaded his fingers through that mane of golden brown hair, cupped the back of her head in his palm.

Camryn wriggled in his arms, every nerve ending in her body on full alert.

It was too much, too soon. She was in sensory overload and she couldn’t absorb everything that was happening.

Yes you can, silly, you’ve got the totem. She reached up to caress the necklace, to draw strength from its power. But when her fingers crept to her throat she felt nothing but her own skin.

Panic-stricken, she jerked away, leaving him looking dazed.

“What…?” he asked.

Cammie Jo stared down at her chest. The totem was gone!

Without it, she was not brave enough to kiss a virtual stranger. On her own, she was not the type to flirt and bat her eyelashes and volley innuendoes.

She was her old self. Vulnerable, scared and way out of her league.

In desperation, she cast her gaze to the ground, looking among the flowering lupine at their feet for her missing necklace. Her breath came out in frantic wheezes, as if she was an asthmatic in a room full of ragweed pollen.

“Camryn? What’s wrong?” Mack reached out to put a hand on her shoulder.

His touch sent her over the edge. She had to get away. Had to leave before she ruined everything. Had to hide from him so he wouldn’t see her for the timid spinster-in-the-making that she really was.

Later, after the party was over, she would come back and try to find the necklace. But for now every phobia she’d ever experienced was gelling into one major fear. That of being found out a fraud before she’d ever had a chance to really live her great adventure.

Get out. Get away!

“I…I can’t do this.” She spun on her heels and took off at a dead run.

“Camryn,” Mack cried. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

She never hesitated.

“Wait!” His footsteps thundered behind her.

Clippety, clippety, clippety—stumble. Her ankle turned sideways in the impossible heels but she ignored the bite of pain and kept going.

Hurry, hurry. You’ve got to give him the slip. Except she could hardly see where she was going with this darned hair bouncing free and unfettered about her face and she didn’t know the area. She rounded the building at a dead-on sprint, hoping he’d give up the pursuit. For heaven’s sake, if a man was running away from her she’d take the hint and not chase after him.

But Mack stayed right on her tail.

Was the man part bloodhound? Jeez Louise. Talk about relentless.

Where could she go to get away from him? She leaped over some shrubbery at the edge of the side-walk. A well-dressed crowd was just walking into the entrance of the community center. Cammie Jo barreled past them, using human bodies as a shield between Mack and herself.

“Excuse me. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to step on your toe.” She heard Mack apologizing but she never slowed, not for a second.

Lungs bursting. Stitch in her side. Throbbing ankle. She could endure all that but not a totemless face-to-face encounter with Mack.

Rabbit quick, she darted through the front door, spun past a startled Kay and clattered upstairs to the relative safety of the ladies’ room.

Okay, don’t panic, don’t panic.

Lovely advice. About as useful as telling a hostess not to panic when she’s got ninety-nine guests coming for Thanksgiving dinner in fifteen minutes and a hundred pounds of Turkey à la Froufrou just exploded in her brand new rotisserie oven.

Cammie Jo paced the tiled bathroom, arms folded across her chest. What to do? She couldn’t stay in here all night.

Or could she?

Tempting thought, but considering the way he’d chased after her, Mack didn’t seem the kind of guy to let things go without a fight. He would probably send someone in after her.

Rats, rats, rats.

And then her gaze landed on the window.

Hmmm. Small opening, but she was petite.

Cammie Jo climbed up on the sink and leaned over to raise the window. She stuck her head out and peered down.

Yipes!

The ground was farther away than she expected. Never mind that directly underneath the ladies’ washroom window sat a row of sturdy, metal, bear-proof garbage cans that looked as if they could skin a girl something nasty.

Cammie Jo pulled back, and mulled over her choices. She could take a header, or more precisely, a footer out the window, or she could face Mack again.

Which was easier to do?

She closed her eyes briefly and wished for the totem.

If wishes were nuts and cherries we’d all have a Merry Christmas, Aunt Kiki was fond of saying, although Cammie Jo had never quite understood the adage. Herself, she’d always wanted clothes and toys for Christmas, not nuts and cherries.

“Camryn?” Kay’s voice called to her from the outer room. “Are you in there? Mack’s looking for you.”

Ulp. It was now or never.

Cammie Jo dangled her legs over the window ledge, took a deep breath and jumped, stiletto heels and all.

5

WHAT ON EARTH had happened to her? Mack wondered as he paced the corridor, hands clasped behind his back.

Damn his tendency to jump in with both feet when he wanted something, never mind that he could be barreling off a cliff.

He needed to amend his “wife” list. Under “likes to be spoiled,” he was adding, “not a flight risk.”

Kay reappeared a few minutes after she had gone inside the ladies’ room to look for Camryn. Mack raised his head, and gazed at her expectantly.

“She’s not in there.”

“What do you mean she’s not in there? I saw her go in with my own eyes.”

“I checked all the stalls. No one is in there.”

“You’re covering for her,” Mack accused.

“Why Mack McCaulley, are you calling me a liar?” Kay settled her hands on her hips and gave him a mischievous grin.

Contrite, he said, “No, Kay, of course not.”

“I will tell you that the bathroom window was hanging open.”

“You think she climbed out the window?”

Kay shrugged. “Looks like it. What did you do to her?”

“Me? I didn’t do anything.”

“Camryn’s missing after slipping off alone with you. You Alaskans have the tendency to go after what you want pell-mell. Maybe you were moving too quickly for her.”

“Then why didn’t she just say so?” Exasperated, Mack jammed his hands in his pocket.

“You’ll have to ask Camryn that question.”

“Right. And how can I do that when I don’t know where she is?”

“She’s staying at Jake’s.”

Just forget her, McCaulley. There’s millions more fish in the sea. Look around you.

But part of him could not so easily dismiss Camryn without a valid explanation for her behavior. And he really wanted to apologize if he’d upset her in any way.

He left the community center and walked across the street to Jake’s B&B. He pushed through the door into the lobby, then went over to the front desk where he found the desk clerk, crotchety old Gus, sitting on a stool reading some true-crime paperback with a lurid cover.

“Hey, Gus.”

Gus grunted and barely looked up from his book.

“You have a guest by the name of Camryn Josephine staying here. Would you tell me her room number?”

“We don’t give out that kinda information.”

“Come on, Gus, you know me.”

“Yeah, and you’re a rascal, McCaulley. I don’t trust ya.”

“That was twenty-five years ago, Gus.” The elderly man gave him grief about his long-ago transgression whenever he could.

“I gotta long memory.”

“Obviously. I apologize profusely. I was a terrible kid. Now would you at least ring her room for me?”

“You ain’t got a chance with that one. She’s too smart for the likes of you.”

“That’s what you said about Quinn and Kay and you were wrong on that score, too.”

Gus snorted, put down his paperback and dialed Camryn’s room. He waited a few minutes then hung up the receiver. “She ain’t answering.”

Gus went back to his book and Mack turned away.

Where could Camryn be? The woman had disappeared like smoke up a flue.

Sighing, he walked through the lobby and plunked down on a chair in Jake’s great room where the guests and locals often congregated. Tonight, the room was empty save for that mousy woman with the Coke-bottle glasses.

What was her name again? Tammie Jo? Maybe she’d seen Camryn come through here.

He got up and stepped over to where she sat curled up on the sofa by the low-level fire. She was reading a copy of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Her hair was pinned to her head in that unflattering bun and she wore a fluffy pink chenille bathrobe and outlandish Bugs Bunny house slippers. Somehow he wasn’t surprised at her silly getup. There was a half-empty glass of milk in front of her and a plate of cookie crumbs.

Party on, Tammie Jo.

He perched on the edge of the heavy cedar coffee table in front of her. “Hello, there.”

She kept her head tucked down, her eyes glued to her book. She was as bad as Gus. What was this? Blow off McCaulley night?

“Remember me?”

She nodded, still not glancing at him.

“You been sitting here long?”

She shrugged. Was she so shy she couldn’t even look at him? He recalled their encounter in the upstairs hallway. She’d acted pretty spirited then. Maybe it took sexy underwear and provocative talk to bring out the vixen in her.

“Would you happen to have seen a woman come through here? Tall. No wait, she had on really high heels.” He looked Tammie Jo over for a moment. “Actually, she might have been about your size. She had on this really amazing black dress. She’s got hair the color of pecan taffy and killer gams.”

“Sorry,” Tammie Jo snapped. “Didn’t see her.”

Okay. He’d handled that wrong. Apparently Miss Plain Jane didn’t care to hear him rhapsodize about some other woman and how could he blame her?

Mack got to his feet without a second glance at Tammie Jo. “Thanks for your help.”

She didn’t reply, just kept her nose buried firmly in her book. Hy-ca-rumba. She’d come all the way to Alaska to sit on a couch and read?

Shaking his head, Mack left the B&B. Time to go home. He was done with chasing after his fantasy woman. At least for tonight.

HE STILL hadn’t recognized her, Cammie Jo fumed as she combed through the lupines on her hands and knees outside the back door of the community center. It was after midnight, the sun had finally gone down and she had a pocket penlight clutched between her teeth.

Was the man as dumb as a post? Or was he so blinded by Camryn’s supposed beauty he couldn’t see that the blah woman right in front of him was the same one he’d been drooling over all night?

Or was the truth plainer than that? Had he instantly labeled Cammie Jo a nonsexual entity and dismissed her the same way men had been dismissing her for years? She knew the conclusion he had drawn about her. Baggy clothes + thick glasses + no makeup + books = a boring spinster woman.

The thought made her blood boil.

Men, the simple beasts. They were so swayed by appearances.

Take one push-up bra, a pair of colored contact lenses, high-heeled shoes, professional grade makeup and voilà—the cinder girl becomes a princess.

She was put out, disgusted, annoyed and still very attracted to that bothersome Mr. McCaulley.

And for some vexatious reason she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Or the way his lips had tasted on hers.

Why hadn’t she simply come out and said, “Look, I’m Camryn. That’s my real name but everyone’s called me Cammie Jo since I was knee-high to a grasshopper.”

Why? Because without the totem she was too damned shy to speak such things to him. And because she would hate to see the disappointment on his face when he realized she wasn’t the hot, sexy babe he thought she was.

Well phooey on him anyway. She hadn’t come to Alaska to snag a husband. Marriage was the furthest thing from her mind. She wanted adventure and plenty of it. She wanted to sample new foods, drink in novel sights, inhale fresh smells. She wanted to see moose and bald eagles and grizzly bears.

But she wasn’t getting her wish unless she found the missing totem.

Just when she was about to give up, her hand hit something solid in the grass and she yelped with glee. Yes! The hiking trip to the Tongass National Forest was back on for the morning. Cammie Jo shone her penlight over the necklace, found where the string had broken, tied it into a secure knot and slipped it over her head.

Instantly, she felt stronger.

There. To heck with Mack. She was brave Camryn again and as long as she had the totem, nothing or no one was stopping her from having the time of her life.

CAMMIE JO woke at the crack of dawn ready for the hiking tour. She opened her window and breathed in the fresh, clean mountain air. She dressed, laced up her hiking books, double knotted the totem and slipped the necklace over her bulky azure sweater. She wasn’t losing it a second time.

After several attempts, she finally got the contact lenses in her eyes. She tried her best to recreate Kay’s makeup job, and she managed a serviceable replication. She brushed out her hair and let the curls trail down her shoulders as she’d worn it the night before. She checked herself in the mirror.

All right! Camryn Josephine was back.

She scurried through the lobby, apparently the only one awake in the whole place save for the elderly desk clerk who never looked up from the morning paper. Once outside, she found the street filled with passengers leaving the cruise ships for shore excursions. The restaurants were hopping, and the air was permeated with the tantalizing aroma of omelettes, bacon and strong coffee. She purchased orange juice and a blueberry muffin from a street vendor, then headed for the tour bus.

The bus that was to take them to the Tongass National Forest for their four-mile hike idled at a wooden park bench just a few feet from the B&B. Cammie Jo hurried over to find more than a dozen attractive young women and a few middle-aged couples already aboard.

She plunked down in the seat behind the driver. He looked familiar and after a few minutes of studying him she recognized him, not only from the party the night before, but from the Metropolitan magazine ad as well.

He was, quite frankly, the most handsome man she had ever seen, with coal-black hair and eyes the piercing blue of a glacier. He was probably the reason the bus was packed with so many single gals at this time of the morning.

Where as Mack was handsome in a rugged way, this man was handsome in the way of perfect Greek statues and paintings of heavenly beings. She found his beauty incredibly intimidating. On the dashboard in front of him lay a well-worn copy of a book by John Muir.

Caleb, she remembered. Caleb Greenleaf, the naturalist and apparently bus driver as well.

A few more women boarded—they giggled and flirted up a storm with Caleb before finding seats. Then Caleb rose to his feet and began to count heads. He consulted a clipboard. “Looks like everyone’s here except my assistant. He must be running late. We’ll give him a few minutes because it’s hard for me to lead a group of this size by myself.”

Everyone must have been pretty happy just to sit and eyeball Caleb because no one protested too much, although Cammie Jo heard someone behind her whisper, “We’ve got to be back on the cruise ship by noon.”

At that moment, a man in a brown bomber jacket sprang onto the bus.

“Morning, folks,” greeted Mack McCaulley. “Sorry I’m late.”

A wave of forgiving female twitters sounded around the bus.

He held on to the grab bar and remained standing while Caleb closed the door and put the bus in gear. Mack picked up the microphone and held it to his mouth as if to start into the regular tourist spiel when his eyes lit on Cammie Jo.

They both inhaled in unison and their gazes welded.

Mack’s sharp intake of breath crackled over the microphone.

Cammie Jo’s heart slipped sideways in her chest. What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he out flying his plane?

He recovered quickly, introduced himself and began telling everyone about the trip ahead. But Cammie Jo didn’t hear a single word he said. Her mind was a frayed ball of twine unraveling at an alarming rate.

She wrapped a fist around the totem and began to breathe easier. It was okay. She was all right.

They arrived at the edge of the forest in under ten minutes and Caleb parked the bus. He gave instructions for the people to divide into two groups of twelve. One group was to go with him, the other group to follow Mack.

Caleb climbed off the bus and the tourists followed. Mack stayed rooted to the spot, his eyes never leaving her face. Cammie Jo hesitated, not knowing what to do.

Her pulse jumped like water droplets on a redhot griddle and her tummy tugged to and fro with this swishy-swashy sensation like a washing machine set to agitate.

She shouldn’t be scared. But then she realized the emotion wreaking havoc on her insides was not fear at all. But rather excitement tinged with something else. A feeling she’d never experienced with such intensity.

Sexual arousal.

The air between them was charged with more voltage than any high line wire. Every hair on her arm stood at erect attention.

Cammie Jo gulped. Hard. She was hot and wet and achy down there.

And then the bus was completely empty, save for her and Mack.

He trod slowly toward her, his boots echoing with a solid thud, thud, thud, that matched the crazy rhythm of her heart.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you,” he said.

Cammie Jo jerked her head around, looking for a way out. Not because she was afraid of this bundle of walking testosterone but exactly because she wasn’t. She should have been scared to death because he was so close, so manly, so gosh darn p.o.’d at her. Instead she was turned on like a faucet twisted to full blast.

“No place to run, Sugar Plum.” He was standing directly in front of her in the middle of the aisle, his big hands planted on the backs of either seat. “If you want off this bus, you’ll have to come through me.”

Was she even breathing? All she knew was that his smoldering dark eyes had pierced her clean through and pinned her in place.

Normally, she hated conflict. Avoided it at all costs. But now she possessed a newfound bravado.

“And what kind of bone do you have that needs picking?” she asked coolly, amazing herself with her impudence. “Chicken? Beef? Pork perhaps?”

Ha! He almost smiled. She saw it flit at the edges of his mouth before he gained control by frowning deeply.

“Why did you run out on me last night?”

“Mack!”

They both jumped.

Caleb rapped on the outside of the bus window and tapped at the face of his watch. “We’re burning daylight, bud.”

“Duty calls.” Cammie Jo said with enough sugar in her voice to choke a honeybee.

“Don’t think this lets you off the hook. Sooner or later you and I are having a long talk.”

“Fine with me.”

“Fine.”

They stared at each other.

“You coming on the hike, then?” He inclined his head.

“Why, of course.”

He stepped aside, gestured with a hand. “Ladies first.”

Haughtily Cammie Jo rose, nose in the air, and started forward. She sailed past him, but then promptly tripped over her boot laces as she descended the bus steps, and sprawled face forward in the dirt.

IT WAS AN HOUR and a half into their three-hour hike through the spongy forest undergrowth and Mack couldn’t stop looking at Camryn. He smiled whenever he recalled how she’d leaped to her feet after falling from the bus and dusted herself off before he could get to her. He’d made a move to help, but she’d glared at him so hard he’d stepped backward, palms up in a gesture of surrender. She was a feisty thing; an odd combination of half regal cutie, half fierce tomcat.

Proving beyond a shadow of a doubt she possessed quality number two on his “wife” list.

He halted the group from time to time to give minilectures on the flora and fauna. During these little breaks, Camryn assiduously avoided looking at him, pretending instead to be wildly enraptured with a skunk cabbage or chipmunks or wild blueberry bushes.

Apparently she didn’t think he noticed when she cut her eyes surreptitiously at him. For his part, he stared at her boldly. He had nothing to be ashamed of.

Except she was a distraction to beat all distractions. Some nerdy middle-aged guy outfitted in the wrong kind of footwear kept asking him silly questions. Like, “Why are the Sitka spruce and the western hemlock the only variety of trees in the Tongass?”

“Because that’s the way it is,” Mack had finally snapped and he heard Camryn snicker. Was she laughing at him or the nerdy guy?

Caleb and his twelve adoring disciples were a quarter mile ahead of them in the forest. Mack brought up the rear in his group to prevent stragglers while Camryn had positioned herself far ahead of the pack, as if to put as much distance between them as possible by infiltrating Caleb’s group.

Mack admired the way Camryn’s trim little butt swayed from side to side in those snug-fitting jeans. He loved watching her hair bounce about her shoulders as she walked and the way her sweater adhered to her breasts.

He recalled the moment when they were alone on the bus together and he’d been trying to intimidate her with his maleness, hoping to wring a confession out of her concerning her strange behavior the night before. Instead of being unnerved as he expected, he could have sworn he saw sparks of unmitigated mischief in her fabulous green eyes.

“Which kind of bone needs picking?” she’d drawled, all spunk and sass.

My bone, he’d thought but hadn’t had the guts to say.

An unwitting image of that cute little butt of hers curving above his cupped palm jettisoned itself into his head and just like that, boom!, he got hard.

Taking a deep breath, Mack paused, put one hand on a tree and struggled to rein himself in.

“Oh!” someone up the trail cried and it sounded an awful lot like Camryn.

Mack’s head came up just in time to see a flash of color as she tumbled down the embankment.

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