Northern Encounter Page 5

  “It’s pretty awesome, isn’t it?” Dalton said in her ear through the headset. She’d forgotten she was connected to her pilot when she’d spoken.

  She briefly glanced his way, smiling and nodding. “Awesome works.”

  But it was more than simply awesome. She’d traveled to a lot of interesting, beautiful places in her job but this was…she couldn’t put her finger on it. Somehow this was different. She always wanted to share the beauty of what she found, which made shooting and splicing together her footage all the more special. But there was something else about the scenery spread below her that eluded her.

  Perhaps it was partly because her concentration was fractured. She was terribly aware of Clint Sisnuket sitting in the seat behind her in the plane’s cramped quarters. It was as if she was tuned into him and couldn’t switch channels. As if she was picking up on some shared vibrational frequency. And it was just point blank annoying. She didn’t want to see in her mind’s eye his inky black hair framing his face with those sexy cheekbones and those dark eyes. They made her simultaneously wonder what he was thinking while inside she skittered nervously at the mere thought of being privy to his private musings. She didn’t want to know that the clean scent of man she kept catching a whiff of was Clint’s rather than Dalton’s. And she did know, as surely as she knew her own name.

  A shiver ran through her and she snuggled deeper still into her parka but it wasn’t a shiver borne of the cold or the panoramic wonder spread before her. It was a shiver of reaction to the man sitting behind her.

  “We’re heading in,” Dalton said.

  Tessa turned the camera off and packed it into the case. Their landing should go smooth enough but you never knew and she had to protect her equipment. The landing itself was part of the adventure. She’d never landed on a frozen river or lake in a plane outfitted with landing skis.

  Within a few minutes they were safely on the ground and her heart was still thumping hard in her chest. Dalton killed the engine. “Welcome to your home away from home,” he said with his boyish smile.

  Tessa simply nodded, taking it all in. A small cabin sat perched atop stilts in the ice. She’d seen website pictures of the cabin in the summer when it sat in the middle of the lake, accessible only by float plane and/or boat. Now the only approach had been via ski plane or snowmobile. According to Clint and Dalton, since there was no existing snowmobile trail and they would’ve wasted precious time blazing one, especially with all the snow dumped by the storm, the ski-outfitted plane had been the most viable and expedient option. Flying suited her just fine. In fact, learning to fly a small plane was on her life list she’d made when she’d lost her aunt and uncle. It had been like losing a second set of parents in a lifetime and she’d decided life was short and you had to grab what you could when you could. She revisited her life list every January.

  As Dalton opened his door and climbed out, frigid cold rushed in. Behind her the malamute sprang to his feet. With a laugh that seemed to reach inside and spread through her, Clint gave the dog the okay to follow the pilot. There was something inherently joyful in the dog’s movement as he leapt from the plane and took off across the snow.

  “Aren’t you afraid he might run away?” Tessa asked, realizing it was probably an inane question as the dog was a well-trained working dog.

  “No. He knows his boundaries.”

  She had the sense that Clint had carefully chosen that word to remind her that she too needed to remember her boundaries. She shook her head slightly to dispel the idea. She had to get over this notion that every word exchanged between them was fraught with nuance and hidden text. From now on, she would take their conversations at face value and nothing more.

  Dalton opened her plane door. Tessa slung her camera case strap over her shoulder and climbed out.

  The first thing that struck her was the utter silence and stillness that heralded a deep and abiding peacefulness. It was a world of quiet painted in shades of light and dark.

  Towering snow-draped spruce.

  White ice.

  The weak sun.

  All of it was in contrast to the dark morning and the moonlight-cast shadows. While it had the potential to be eerie, Tessa found it soothing. Even in the raw cold, a warmth seeped through her to her soul.

  The hush held a spiritual quality she’d never found in any church or cathedral from the grandest to the most humble.

  In the distance, a wolf’s howl broke the silence, but there was no menace in the sound. Rather for Tessa it held a note of welcome. She’d always liked wolves and was hoping to see some first-hand, which was in large part why Clint had chosen this location.

  Even though Clint watched her with his dark eyes and implacable expression, it was Dalton who asked, “So, what do you think?”

  “I think it’s wonderful.” And she did.

  Dalton smiled and she could’ve sworn Clint relaxed somewhat although he gave no visible sign of any such thing. “Well, c’mon, let’s get your stuff checked in here at the local Hilton,” Dalton said.

  Clint chuckled and Tessa also laughed. “If it’s got a roof and solid walls, I’ll take it any day.”

  Together they gathered her equipment and headed to the cabin. Inside it was essentially one large room with two bunk platform beds on one wall and two more on another. The bunks were open to the kitchen, which primarily consisted of a propane fueled hot plate on the counter. Utilitarian. Stark. Three windows afforded views of the outside. Majestic. Awe-inspiring.

  Perfect…even if she had to share it with Clint Sisnuket.

  THE DISTANT DRONE of Saunders’s retreating plane faded, leaving Clint alone in the stillness with Tessa.

  He turned to look at her. She stood next to him, her fur-trimmed parka framing her face, highlighting the delicate line of her nose and the pale luminescence of her skin. She wore an expression of awe as her gaze seemed to drink in her surroundings. And although he didn’t particularly want to relate to anything about this woman, Clint knew how she felt. There were many who became inured to the beauty and wonder of the wilderness when faced with it day to day, but for Clint, the expression on her face was how he felt anew, every day.

  Was this the way his mother had looked when she’d first glimpsed the surrounding area? Had his father felt the same affinity? He’d learn from those lessons and was determined not to repeat the same mistakes.

  “We should organize camp,” he said. She redirected her attention to him, and it was an effort for him to keep his train of thought with her direct green gaze fixed on him. “We also need to eat so that we’re ready to set out while we still have daylight.”

  “But we just ate before we left Good Riddance.”

  “And we’ll eat again. Your body burns a lot of fuel simply keeping warm out here.”

  “So, I could possibly freeze five pounds off while I am here,” she said with a grin.

  “Possibly.” He found himself returning her grin. There was something captivating about her that was impossible to ignore, seemingly impossible not to get caught up in. And getting caught up in her would be one big mistake he didn’t plan to make. There was only one place that would ultimately lead…disaster. They were from two separate worlds, and while those two worlds might occasionally collide, they could never successfully combine. He’d seen it, lived it firsthand…foolishly more than once. “But not if I can help it. If you want to set up your gear inside, I’ll be in as soon as I secure the sled.”

  Her eyes sparkled. “I can help.”

  “I don’t need any help.” He realized that sounded abruptly rude and she was a paying customer. “Thanks, though.”

  Her good humor remained unshaken. “Okay, then I’ll just watch.”

  “Why would you want to watch?” He was genuinely perplexed.

  “So, I’ll know how to do it I ever need to.” She smiled, etching fine lines around her green eyes. “A person can never know too many things.”

  The odds that she’d need to know in the f
uture how to secure a sled to a piling were slim, but he’d walk her through it. Within a few minutes it was done. She was a quick study. She’d asked a few questions as to the type of knot he’d used and how the extreme cold would affect the materials.

  On an unusual whim, he undid what he’d just done and said, “You try it.”

  She nodded and he could already see the wheels turning in her head, taking her through what she needed to do. She did great until it came to the last knot. Her frustration was evident when she couldn’t get it right on the third try.

  “Here,” he said, placing his gloved hands over hers, “it’s this way. You wrap it under and over in one smooth movement.” Despite the gloves and the cold, he could swear he felt the same jolt he’d experienced when they shook hands. And he’d had to lean in, bringing them closer together in the weak daylight, the smoke of her breath mingling with his.

  “Oh, I see,” she said as she completed the knot properly and stepped away. “Good. Thank you. Now I can add that to my repertoire of things I know how to do.” Her laugh held a nervous note. “Not that I’m likely to need to secure a sled in the wilderness in the foreseeable future,” she said in a rush, echoing his earlier thoughts, “but if I do, hey, now I’ve got it down pat.”

  “I’d trust you to secure my sled anytime.” The second the words left his mouth he wanted to snatch them back. Clint didn’t say things like that. He especially didn’t say things like that to an attractive female client. “You’ll soon be qualified as a wilderness guide assistant at this rate,” he said on a far less intimate note, trying to smooth over the gaffe.

  “Assistant?” Her smile was pure sass. “I’d want to qualify as the guide. And if you’re ever interested in a trip to Venezuela, I can show you which plants are poisonous and which aren’t.”

  It was impossible not to smile at her enthusiasm. “That seems like good stuff to know.”

  “Trust me, it is.”

  Venezuela and now Alaska. Obviously she traveled extensively. For Clint, the extent of his travel outside of Alaska had been to Montreal with his mother as a child, and that hadn’t been as much travel as it had been an exercise in bad judgment on everyone’s part. However, it had shown Clint unequivocally where he belonged and who his people were.

  “Okay, then,” he said, “I’ll bore you to no end with information you may or may not need.”

  “I’m sure I won’t be bored.”

  Possibly not at first, but by the end of the week she’d be bored and more than ready to return to “civilization.” Tessa Bellingham no more had “pioneer spirit” written on her than he had “city boy” stamped on him.

  He whistled for Kobuk and the dog tore across the expanse of frozen water, stopping just short of them, his tongue lolling out in a happy pant.

  “He loves this, doesn’t he?” Tessa asked.

  “This is his element. The only time he’s happier is when he’s working between the leads. Wait until he takes us out later today. Then he’ll really be doing what he loves.”

  “I’ve seen huskies and malamutes at home and it always struck me as almost cruel that people would keep what was obviously a dog bred for the cold in such a warm place, regardless of how much they shaved them down.”

  “It’s all a matter of habitat. Mother Earth has a spot for each of us, a spot where we belong, where we flourish whether we’re a tree, a plant, an animal, or an individual. When one of them is out of its element or habitat, it can never live up to its true potential.”

  A shadow seemed to pass over her face. “What if the element is an unknown quantity? What about nomads?”

  “I think there’s a difference between the element being unknown and being nomadic. A nomad is actually in his element, it just happens to be broad.”

  Her nod was slow, contemplative. “I suppose.” He wasn’t sure he’d ever moved into such a philosophical realm with anyone quite as quickly as he had with Tessa. She ended that particular discussion by pasting on a distancing smile and moving farther into the tight space. “Do you have a bunk preference?” she asked, clearly steering the conversation back to the practicalities of setting up camp, which is precisely what he should have done.

  “I’ve had a turn in all of them at one point or another and one’s just as hard as the next,” he said. “But the two on that wall offer the best view of the night sky. I’d take one of them if I were you.”

  Without hesitation she tossed her sleeping bag onto the top bunk. “I always wanted bunk beds when I was a kid. There’s something cool about sleeping up above like that,” she said, her smile once again blooming with an easiness.

  Clint smiled back, caught up in the curve of her lips. “And it’s warmer up top. Heat rises.”

  “There is that.”

  Clint gestured to where Kobuk had curled up near the door. “He’d be just as happy outside and he’d weather the cold just fine but if he’s in here with us, it’s one more bit of shared body heat.”

  And that was a poor choice of phrase on his part because the thought that immediately chased “shared body heat” was of the two of them, him and Tessa—not the dog—wrapped in blankets, sharing skin-against-skin body heat. A flash of something in her eyes led him to believe she’d had the same instant image.

  She moistened her lower lip with the tip of her tongue. “Speaking of heat, how do you heat the cab in? Or do you heat it?”

  “You won’t think you’re in the tropics but we’ll knock the chill off with a propane heater. Since it’s just one room and fairly small at that, it gets surprisingly warm in a short time. Here, I’ll show you how to connect the canister and turn on the heater. We won’t, however, leave it on because of the fumes. I’ll also get the wood stove going. That’s our primary source of heat once the heater warms it up some.”

  He spent the next few minutes demonstrating the heater and the short-wave radio that provided emergency contact with Good Riddance. It took all of his effort to concentrate on the task at hand rather than on the contrast of the paleness of her hand against his darker weathered one and the scent of her nearness. He’d never had such a primal reaction to another per son.

  “You’ll want to take off your jacket and a couple of layers, otherwise you’ll be too chilly when we go out again.”

  While the heat worked its way into the corners of the room, Clint dug out their midmorning snack. “Caribou jerky,” he said, handing a portion to Tess. “It’s pure protein, which is what you’ll need to see you through the morning.”

  She nodded and bit off a chunk, chewing thoughtfully. “Not bad. Actually, it’s pretty good.”

  “Beats the hell out of whale blubber.”

  “I’ll take your word on that.”

  While she ate, she arranged her equipment on the lower bunk farthest from the heater. “I’d like to avoid too much temperature difference—well, as much as possible, so I’ll leave them on the bottom bunk and away from the direct heat.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “When we start out, would you show me how to mush? That is what it’s called when you give the commands and Kobuk pulls the sled, right? Mushing?”

  “Sure. I can do that. You weren’t kidding about wanting to be guide-worthy, were you?”

  She shrugged and although her mouth curved into a smile, the depths of her spruce-colored eyes held a distant sadness. “You’re my guide but if something were to happen to you, and accidents do happen, I need to know how to survive out here on my own. At the end of the day, the only person you can really count on to take care of you, is you.”

  The fact that her statement seemed to have been borne from experience found a home deep inside him. And she was the last woman he wanted wending her way into him.

  6

  MERRILEE LOOKED AT the numbers on the ledger page for the third time without really seeing them. Biting back a sigh, she closed the book, her concentration not worth a hill of beans today. Of course, that’s what not sleeping all night when your man decided he’
d move to the couch did to a woman. Bull’s sole response had been to murmur, “I can’t sleep with a married woman,” before he’d left the bed. She hadn’t followed him. She knew him well enough to recognize he needed time and space to process everything. He’d been gone before she came out of his bedroom this morning. Actually, she’d heard him leave around five.

  She was jerked out of her morose reverie by the sounds of Tad and Baby Doll coming down the stairs. Even if they weren’t the only two upstairs, she’d unfortunately recognize Tad’s annoying chuckle anywhere, especially in her own home.

  It was past noon but rather than be put out by their late appearance, Merrilee was just grateful she hadn’t had to deal with his sorry ass any sooner in the day.

  “What’s shaking, Merry?” Tad said as they entered the airstrip office. Baby Doll—Merrilee couldn’t remember the girl’s real name to save her soul—teetered beside him on three-inch heels. She obviously had a death wish if she planned to set foot outside in those heels, but then Tad did have that effect on a woman, she thought darkly.

  “Your belly when you came in?”

  Tad pretended to wince while Baby Doll giggled.

  “Your tongue is just as damn sharp as it ever was.

  Baby Doll wants to get her nails done. Can you hook her up at the salon?”

  “Salon?”

  “Yeah. You know…massage, hair, nails, all that stuff that floats the female boat.”

  “Have you had a look around town?”

  “It was dark when we got in last night. C’mon, Merry, hook her up.”

  Merrilee picked up the phone and dialed. “Hey, Curl. You busy this morning?”

  “I was just finishing up a caribou head. What can I do you for?”

  “Nails?”

  “Do I need my dremel?” Curl asked. Curl regularly had to attack some of the men’s toe nails with a dremel tool. Bull had been dremeled a time or two.

  Merrilee glanced at Baby Doll’s long finger nails which were probably in better shape already than any other woman’s in Good Riddance. “No. You won’t need that.”