I didn’t need to look back at where she was perched on the sled behind me to visualise her clutching her collar, grimacing at the intensifying wind. I was surprised she hadn’t whipped out her sleek satellite phone and ordered her chopper to come pick her up.
The bear family might have moved in the time she’d been ordering her staff about.
The time she’d spent analysing me with those stunning hazel eyes, deciding whether to toy with me or not.
Muscles jumped in my stomach. As hard as I tried to ignore the sensation, what I’d seen in her hooded, sultry eyes still sent fresh waves of apprehension through me. Not the kind that had anything to do with the work she’d hired me for. That I could do with one hand tied behind my back and one eye closed.
No, the kind of sensation that look had elicited...that fucking craving.
I shook my head, partly to clear it, partly in denial.
Dammit, she’d seen it. Then she’d spotted my efforts at denial...
I gritted my teeth and unnecessarily flicked the reins attached to the dogs. The huskies were highly trained, would respond to the softest whistle or voice command, which made the reins largely superfluous.
Or, hell, was that particular symbolism for me? Was I so hard up, I was now expressing myself through my bloody dogs?
Dammit.
I didn’t need this. I should’ve left Graciela Mortimer’s little ice circus the moment I confirmed her project manager had lied to my agent in order to secure my services.
More than any other flaw, I hated lies. And the people who told them.
Large. Medium. Tiny white lies. Every single one of them came with wrecking balls that altered lives, changed the dynamics of relationships, no matter how much we fooled ourselves into believing otherwise.
How many had my mother told my sister and me in order to avoid facing the glaring truth?
I’m all right. It doesn’t hurt. He’ll change. And the worst lie of them all: he loves us.
Even before my fifth birthday, I’d known that statement for a lie. And for the decade after that, that fabrication had been exposed time and again until, like poisonous acid, it’d begun to erode my relationship with my mother.
Of course, I knew now it’d been her way of coping, the delusion her own form of security blanket. Hadn’t I risked falling into that same pattern of delusion until I’d wised up as a grown man? Hadn’t I made allowances for Stephanie’s lies just to hang on to what I thought was a solid relationship, all the while knowing that trust, once broken with lies, never—
‘How close are we, Mr Scott?’
Of course her voice would have to melt my insides. Visions of heated honey...no, more like the anticipation of watching melted wax in the moment before it hit my skin. The sharp burn before the breathless, sizzling warmth.
That was what Graciela Mortimer’s voice had evoked the moment she’d spoken the words I’m in charge.
Lort!
I should’ve left after imparting my thoughts on what she was proposing to do. Which would’ve been easy considering I hadn’t wanted to do this gig anyway. Regardless of the fact that my own company had been driving me insane. Regardless of the fact that I hated myself a little for not being able to stay the course of what was left of my month-long self-imposed hermitage.
I should’ve left.
Instead, here I was, secretly yearning to hear that voice again. To do that, though, I’d have to engage her in conversation.
‘Ten more minutes. Give or take,’ I threw over my shoulder. The GPS co-ordinates I’d noted on my watch would see us there in less time, but I’d learned to make allowances on unknown terrain.
Silence greeted me. Against my will, I looked over my shoulder.
Despite the stylish shades covering her eyes, I felt her gaze boring into mine with unapologetic directness that tunnelled lightning straight into my veins. It singed me into life, making me aware of every inch of my skin, and especially the rush of blood to my groin.
This was why I hadn’t walked away.
Yet.
‘Give or take what?’ she asked with a slight arch of a silky eyebrow.
Good question. My sanity? Another sign that my screaming instincts were right? That she wasn’t merely toying with me?
But fuck, where the hell did I get off trusting my instincts when they’d let me down spectacularly so very recently with Stephanie?
‘Mr Scott, while I have a thing for the strong, silent type...on occasion, this isn’t one of them. I will need you to actually engage with me here.’
The dry amusement in her tone should’ve raised my hackles further. And yet it drew a wry smile. And what was it with that Mr Scott when I’d invited her to use my first name?
Perhaps because she didn’t need invitation. She commands it.
My senses jumped, dark need clamouring through me so hard every inch of my body tightened with anticipation.
Futile anticipation. I had no intention of even probing possibilities. Not after the fucking fiasco with Stephanie.
There was a reason I’d retreated to my remote cabin in Alaska. A reason I’d welcomed the last-minute cancellation to my tight work schedule. When it came right down to it, the need to escape my thoughts and immerse myself in my work were the reason I’d grudgingly accepted what I thought would be a solo assignment.
Which was why I should’ve left Graciela Mortimer where I found her.
‘We’re here.’ I tugged on the reins with a sharp whistle and the dogs immediately slowed to a stop.
The mother and her three cubs were still on the large floe about a quarter of a mile away, finishing off the last of a fish meal. One of the dogs barked and the mother bear raised her head warily, eyeing us from across the distance.
I sensed Graciela approach, felt her invasive presence
