To Alaska, With Love: A Touch of Silk. Lori Wilde
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He hoped he could keep himself under control. He wanted to please Kay as much as he wanted to be pleasured. That kiss they’d shared atop the Empire State Building told him she was as hungry for physical love as he.
He couldn’t wait to taste those lips again, to caress her soft flesh, to run his fingers through her silky hair. For the past week, ever since Judy Nessler had called and told him Kay was on her way, he’d been unable to consider anything else. Although he couldn’t help but wonder if she was still “practically engaged” or if she had broken things off with her boyfriend.
Just thinking about Kay stirred him, and he had to breathe deeply and think of ice hockey in order to calm down.
Finally, finally, he heard the sound of Mack’s bush plane glide to a stop in the inlet. Bundled in his parka, he threw open his front door and hurried down the walkway that was already covered with a light dusting of fresh flakes, even though he’d shoveled it earlier.
The first of March was an awful time to visit Bear Creek. They wouldn’t be able to do much beyond sit by the fire. Kay certainly didn’t seem the type to snowshoe or snowmobile or ice-skate. He couldn’t see her sitting in the bleachers wrapped in thermal blankets at his hockey games. Ah, but he could visualize her curled up in his bed.
By the time he reached the dock, Mack had already helped her from the plane. Quinn took one look at her and his heart flipped.
She smiled in that cool, controlled way of hers. “Hello, Quinn.”
He’d been nervous, not knowing exactly how to proceed, but in that moment instinct took over. He swung her into his arms, lifted her off her feet and hugged her to his chest.
“Welcome to Bear Creek, Kay,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m so glad you decided to come.”
“Thank you.” She stiffened in his arms and he realized that his easy informality made her uncomfortable.
He sat her gently on the ground, wanting to respect her need for distance, and surveyed her with hungry eyes. She looked good, if somewhat out of place, in her virgin-white ski outfit and snowboots. It was probably the only cold-weather gear she owned.
Feeling self-conscious before Quinn’s intense perusal, Kay adjusted the knit cap she wore. She loved the way he’d swung her into his arms but she had a hard time relaxing and enjoying his ebullience.
Mack, the bush pilot, busied himself with tying down the plane and pretending he wasn’t eavesdropping on their conversation. She had enjoyed talking to the down-to-earth man on the flight over, and she’d been unable to stop herself from pumping him for information on Quinn. Now she feared Mack knew exactly how much she liked Quinn. For a woman who’d spent her life hiding her feelings from the world, this was a disconcerting prospect.
“Well,” she said. “Well.”
Her heart was galloping a mile a minute. On the long flight to Alaska she had decided once and for all to use that sexy underwear she had stuffed into her suitcase and seduce this bear of a man. One way or the other, she was bound and determined to prove Lloyd wrong. She was not frigid.
But now that she was here, staring into Quinn’s mesmerizing gray eyes, an odd sensation of anticipation, excitement and fear gripped her. Her brain short-circuited, issuing two simultaneous but opposing commands.
Run for your life! Get out while you can!
Strap your arms around him and never let go!
Oh, God, she wanted him so badly. Maybe too much. But did she have the guts to go through with this? Were her expectations of this chemistry between them unrealistic?
He looked impressive in his fur-lined parka and all-weather boots. A rugged man’s man who needed no fancy gym to keep in shape. Life in the Alaskan wilderness was his personal trainer.
Another twinge of anticipation. This time low in her anatomy. Heavens above, she was scared and thrilled.
You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, she reminded herself. After all, you’re here to write an article. Focus on that. Forget the other for now.
That admonition and a deep breath of frosty winter air calmed her nerves.
Quinn held out his gloved hand to her. Tentatively she accepted it and allowed him to lead her cautiously up the snow-dazzled sidewalk to his rustic log cabin, which was perched on a small hill just above the shoreline.
“Come inside.” He ushered her over the threshold, stopping long enough to stomp the snow off his boots on the welcome mat. Kay followed suit.
“Let me hang up your coat.”
Kay started to pull down the zipper, but her fingers, even through her leather gloves, were so cold that she fumbled.
“Allow me.” He reached for the zipper. Their hands brushed briefly. They both tried to ignore the contact. She glanced at the moose head mounted over the mantel, while he kept his eyes trained to the floor.
Rubbing her palms together, she gazed around the cabin. It was obvious he’d tidied up. The room smelled of pine cleaner and air freshener. The floor was hardwood and covered with a thick, braided rug. Hockey trophies were displayed in a glass case. In one corner sat a massive fireplace, in the other, a big-screen television with satellite hookup. It was definitely a man’s place, painted in dark, masculine colors and decorated with large, sturdy furniture. A brown leather couch, a bold scarlet recliner, a hand-carved rocking chair.
She shrugged out of her ski jacket and stripped off her ski pants. He took the garments from her and hung them on a rack by the door. When she felt confident enough to glance his way again, she apprehended his gaze in a leisurely stroll down her body. He took in her red cashmere sweater, her form-fitting black pants, her fluffy white after-ski boots.
Despite the fact that she was bundled up to the teeth, thermal underwear on from neck to ankles, the way he looked at her made Kay feel like Lady Godiva prancing through the town square in the altogether.
“Nice place,” Kay said, trying her best to keep her tone upbeat and lighthearted, as if his perusal didn’t affect her one bit. But her breathless, whispery voice gave her away.
“Here,” he said eagerly, his voice no steadier than her own. “Stand by the fire, get warm. I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”
Hot chocolate? Had she stepped back in time to a simpler place, a simpler era? It was nice, very nice, but she felt out of place. A stranger in a strange land.
“That’d be great.”
Then an appalling thought occurred to her. Was she supposed to lodge here with him? Not that she didn’t want to stay with him. She just didn’t want it assumed.
“Quinn?” She watched him move around the kitchen, which was separated from the living area by a waist-high counter. She heard the oven door open, saw him bend over and remove a cookie sheet.
The smell of chocolate-chip cookies filled the air. Handsome and he could cook. A deadly combo.
“Uh-huh.” He deposited the cookie sheet on a cooling rack and glanced over at her. His hair had flopped boyishly over his forehead. For no good reason whatsoever her stomach did a backflip.
“Did you...am I...” She cleared her throat and tried again. “Where am I supposed to sleep?”
“At Jake’s B&B a quarter mile up the road in the center of town. Mack’s already hauling your luggage there.”
“Er...that’s good.”
“You didn’t think...I mean...did you want to stay here?” He raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“Oh, no. No. Of course not.” Kay groaned inwardly. This was going horribly. They were both so afraid of making a mistake, they were treading on eggshells.
He returned to the living area, balancing two mugs of hot chocolate and a plate of cookies on a tray.