Crystal Caress. Zuri Day
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to be the last time they spent together. A feeling so inappropriate that Teresa began to wonder if during the fall she hadn’t also hit her head and knocked the sense right out of it.
Atka abruptly pulled back his hand and refocused his attention on her injured foot. It was singularly the most painful yet erotic experience she’d ever had. He removed her sock and held her injured foot as if it was made of glass. His touch was soothing to the point of healing. They’d just met the night before, yet she was experiencing ludicrous imaginings that they’d known each other a long time, weird feelings of closeness and a sense of completeness. Had she taken the pill, she could have blamed the medicine. But it still lay in her hand. The water remained on the table beside her. Still, the fall had obviously dislodged logic and common sense from their secure place in her brain. The scrambling had also dulled her senses, because now, with the tight boot off and the ice pack on her foot, the throbbing was considerably less. All this, and she didn’t even know his last name. Atka. The fisherman. The sexy Alaskan who was making her think crazy thoughts about staying in Alaska.
He stood and walked to the fireplace. Teresa watched his calm, economical movements, his tall frame moving with the grace of a dancer. He seemed refined, worldly, yet built a fire in what she swore was under a minute. Her brother Warren, the cowboy of the family, with five wood-burning fireplaces in his home, couldn’t beat that time. Who are you and what are you doing to me?
“How did you find me?”
Atka stood, dusted bits of kindling from his hands as he turned around. His face was a mask. “I could ask that same question.”
She frowned, and not from pain. “You think I went looking for you at the bottom of a ditch?”
“That obviously happened in the midst of your search for...whatever.”
“I was searching for the perfect shot! I was trying to capture the—my camera! Did you see it?” She frantically looked around her. “Oh, my goodness. It’s probably still in the ditch. I’ve got to—” She gasped as pain shot up the leg she’d just tried to move.
He noticed immediately and was back by her side. “Stop moving! I’ll go find the camera. Did you take the ibuprofen?”
She shook her head. “Shouldn’t I go to the hospital, and make sure my ankle isn’t broken?”
“It isn’t broken, but if you’d feel...safer there...then by all means.” He turned off the fire under the teapot and walked over to where he’d hung his coat.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
He gave her body a quick, almost imperceptible once-over, his eyes intense and unreadable. A squiggle ran from her core to her heart. She shivered. His eyes narrowed. “Of course you are. I understand. You’re alone with a stranger in a one-room cabin. It’s totally understandable and in hindsight it was thoughtless of me to bring you here. Forgive me. My only concern was to get you out of the elements before a deep chill set in, and to get ice on that ankle.” He lifted his sheep-lined leather jacket from the coatrack. “We can go now, and pick up your camera on the way.”
The thought of leaving him filled her with an inexplicable sadness. And more, as crazy and inappropriate as it was, she’d fall in the cavern again, and risk a broken bone, for time in the presence of this strange man who was making her think and do strange things.
She reached for the bottle of pills. “Just go get the camera. I’ll take two of these and see if I feel better. If not, we can go when you get back.”
* * *
Atka jumped into his Jeep, returned to the spot of her fall, found the camera and drove back to his home. It took less than five minutes.
He walked in shaking snow from the camera half-buried when he’d arrived. “Here you go. If the moisture from the snow hasn’t got inside of it, you should be fine. How do you feel? Better?”
He looked at her with a hopeful look on his face.
“That was pretty quick. The ibuprofen have hardly had time to work their magic. I can stay for a little while. Like I said before, I’m not afraid of you.”
The smile was barely perceptible. “That’s good to know. It’s natural that you’d want a doctor to examine you and reassure you that nothing is broken. Are you sure you don’t want me to take you now? I’ve still got on my coat. The Jeep is warm. I can have you there in no time.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to leave because you’re afraid?”
A bigger smile, then. Amused. Predatory. “My dear papoota princess, I am not afraid of anything.”
Their eyes met. A second passed. Two. Ten.
“Then I’ll stay.”
One sentence. Three words. They would prove to be a game changer.
He wasn’t afraid, but she made him nervous. This in and of itself wasn’t unusual. Atka was shy and introverted, homeschooled until his high school years with only a handful of romantic liaisons in his twenty-eight years. He’d known Mary since childhood. Once he’d returned home from college and found her a widow, dating had come naturally and been easy. This feeling Teresa evoked was more than awkward discomfort brought on by a case of nerves. Suspicions aside, there was something about this woman that moved him at a deep level and seeped into his soul. A part of his soul that had never been touched. Add the fact that it had been months since his last sexual encounter and it made it difficult to view this sexy city girl with raven hair splayed across the arm of his sofa sleeper as an injured patient he needed to tend, instead of the caramel vixen he wanted to ravish and keep here, locked away for his pleasure.
He wanted her. But he’d long learned to hide his feelings behind the facade of a strong jawline and unreadable eyes. He did so now. Took in her words, gave a brief nod and turned toward the kitchen area.
“I’ll make tea,” he said, reaching for a mug and a container filled with what looked to be loose tea. “This is a mix of teas and medicinal herbs concocted by my grandmother. Not the best-tasting brew in the world, but I guarantee you’ll feel better.”
“I feel a little better already.” Teresa eased herself up to a sitting position. “The ice pack and ibuprofen are easing the pain.”
Atka returned to the living area and sat in a comfortable chair, the base of which was made from oak logs. The back and bottom cushion were covered with a geometrically patterned fabric boasting bright primary colors, a welcome splash of color to the browns, blacks and grays of the other sparse furniture and decor.
Their eyes met. Silence fell. An awkward yet electric silence tinged with sexual tension and something else...something that later both would realize they had tried without success to define.
“For the record,” Teresa began, running a hand through her tresses, “I did not follow you here. Bristol Bay is home to the largest salmon fisheries in the country. I told you last night I would be coming here.”
“That was after I told you I was a fisherman.”
“Yes, but you didn’t tell me you fished in Bristol Bay! Look, dude, I don’t know who you are, or who you think you are, but I am the last woman on earth who’d go traipsing across Alaska looking for a fisherman, for God’s sake, just because his conversation was engaging and he bought me a meal. I’ll admit that you’re fine, and I didn’t know they made them like you in the wild frontier, but when you left, I had no idea where you’d gone, where you’d be going or when you’d get there. Nor did I care. Okay?”
His silence was deafening, broken only when he asked, “How do they make them here?”
“Really?”
“I don’t know what you mean by that statement.”
“Aw,