Northern Encounter

“One hot shower coming right up,” Merrilee said as she pushed to her feet.

CLINT FOLLOWED DALTON back into the airstrip office, stopping by the door to clean Kobuk’s paws. In an example of weird timing, Bull showed up right behind them. The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee and the fire’s heat offered a welcome from the dark cold outside.

Merrilee looked up from where she sat at her desk, filling out paperwork. “Grab a cup of hot coffee.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Bull said.

Dalton nodded. “The wind’s really picking up out there.”

“It came up sudden, but I think it’s going to be a doozey,” Merrilee said.

Clint scanned the room again but Tessa was nowhere to be found.

“Tessa’s upstairs taking advantage of a hot show er,” Merrilee said. The woman didn’t miss a thing. She turned her attention back to Dalton and the flight schedules.

People took showers all the time. He took showers frequently. But Merrilee’s words conjured up an image of Tessa Bellingham he’d rather not have. He could see her standing beneath the water, head thrown back, water sluicing over her pale nakedness, her silvery blonde hair darkened by the shower’s deluge. From the moment she’d slipped out of her parka, he’d been mesmerized by the curve of her hips, the indent of her waist and the fullness of her breasts. She had a ripe woman’s figure.

Standing around thinking of Tessa naked in the shower, however, was a bad idea. A very bad idea. And hopefully she wouldn’t run the hot water out. He could use a shower himself.

He’d decided to bunk down at the B & B so they could get an early start the following morning. Now, with the storm blowing in, it was just as well. His cabin was quite a ways out of town, and often Merrilee offered him his bed for free when one of the people who’d contracted his guide services stayed the night at her place. Clint always made sure, however, that she wasn’t full when he snagged a bed at her place. He didn’t want to do her out of a paying customer when she insisted on giving him his room for free. She maintained it was payback because she picked up plenty of business due to his guide service.

Overhead the water stopped. While Merrilee finished up paperwork, he busied himself feeding Kobuk his evening ration and refilling the malamute’s water bowl. However, the mundane tasks didn’t stop him from imagining the woman upstairs drying off, dragging one of the thick, fluffy towels over her neck and shoulder, down her arms, over her breasts, between her thighs and down her legs. He tried mentally running through the supply list he’d put together for their trip but he still couldn’t shake the image of her drying herself.

Exasperated with himself, he pulled out the actual list itself and sat in one of the chairs next to the wood stove. Concentrating still wasn’t easy. Within a few minutes Tessa made her way down the stairs. Her hair was beginning to dry to a lighter shade where it swung against the curve of her cheek.

A knot of unwelcome want clenched low in his belly. Free of makeup, her skin was clean and fresh, and her green eyes reminded him of spruce bowers. She crossed the room and sat in the rocking chair next to his. She smelled of soap, shampoo and woman. Clint tried to brush aside the awareness coursing through him. He’d been a guide for a long time. He’d had a huge range of clients, some of whom had been attractive, young women but he’d always maintained a detachment. But from the moment Tessa had walked through the door, his detachment had been shattered and he couldn’t seem to piece it back together.

“You wanted to go over our plans for tomorrow?” she asked.

“We need to review your supply list to make sure nothing’s been left off.”

“I guess there’s not exactly a Walmart across the street where we’re headed, is there?”

Clint found himself laughing. “There’s not even a street.”

Her quick smile tugged at him. “Perfect. It sounds as if it’s just the place I need to film.”

“You know there’s no running water.”

She slanted him an amused glance. “Of course, we discussed it in the email. Mr. Sisnuket—”

“Clint. Everyone calls me Clint.”

She dipped her head. “Okay. Clint. I just want to make it clear that I know what I’m getting into. I’ve traveled to some very remote places under fairly primitive conditions to make my videos. I get it. No electricity. No running water. I’m good with that. All the correspondence we exchanged—that was me. I’m tougher than I obviously must look. I’m not a weak link and I’m not a prima donna. I can hold my own on this trip.”

That remained to be seen. “Okay.”

“I know you’re not convinced—” he wasn’t but he didn’t think she knew that “—but I’d appreciate you bringing an open mind to this … the whole not judging a book by its cover thing.”

He was fairly quick but it took a second for Clint to realize that she’d pretty much just accused him of bigotry. Indignation rolled through him. He’d had his first rancid taste of bigotry at the hands of his mother’s family when he’d moved with her to Montreal.

His mother who’d shown up in Good Riddance with a film crew from Montreal. His father should have known better. Should have known the woman from the city with her fair skin and hair would never truly adapt to native life in a small Alaskan village. His father should’ve known, but he’d listened to his heart rather than his head, and against his family and tribe’s wishes, he’d married Georgina Wallace. A year later Clint had been born.

When Clint was five his mother had thrown in the towel on her marriage and living in the Alaskan wilds and moved back to Montreal. It had been a horrible experience for Clint. He missed his father and his extended family, especially his cousin Nelson, who was almost as close as a brother to him, as well as the lifestyle. It hadn’t helped that his mother’s family thought she’d married beneath her, and they certainly hadn’t welcomed a half-breed child who looked full native.

And as if he hadn’t learned his lesson well enough, when he’d gone to college at the University of Alaska, he’d been involved with Carrie, a blue-eyed blonde who’d eventually told him she could never get serious with him since she couldn’t deal with having mixed race children.

So, if Tessa wanted to know what it was like to be judged by her looks alone, he could tell her about that all day long. He opened his mouth to say just that … and then snapped it shut. She was right. He’d been perfectly comfortable with taking T. S. Bellingham on this trip. Through their correspondence, he’d ascertained T.S. was competent and knew precisely what to expect from the trip. However, he’d taken one look at the curvy blonde with the delicate features and decided she was going to be problematic and incompetent. Not only had he displayed bigoted behavior, he’d brought his own set of prejudices with him and found her lacking without even giving her a chance.

This time when he opened his mouth, he offered an apology. “You’re right. I’m sorry about that. I’ve definitely been on the receiving end. I suppose sometimes it’s easy to see in others what’s so difficult to spot in ourselves.”

She smiled. Pure. Spontaneous. Lovely. And his heart responded of its own accord, soaring like the mighty eagle, his animal totem, his animal brother.

“Wow. You really are a rare breed of man, Clint Sisnuket.”

“How’s that?”

Her smile pushed his soaring to new heights. “You’re a man … and you just apologized.”

Unfortunately for him, he was all too aware of just how much of a man he was … and just how much of a woman he was sitting next to. Soaring was a very bad idea.

3

WHILE THE OTHERS CHATTED to one another in the airstrip office, Merrilee pushed her glasses to the bridge of her nose and tried to relax. She’d been as nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof ever since she’d gotten that stupid letter postmarked from Georgia three and a half weeks ago. “It’s been a long time. We have things we need to talk about. I’m ready to give you what you want.” The words were practically burned into her brain. The only thing she wanted from him at this point was an obituary notice—his.

“Penny for them,” Bull said, interrupting her reverie. He gave her a long scrutinizing look from his sherry-colored eyes. That had been the first thing she’d noticed when she met Bull Swenson twenty-five years ago. Her grandmother had kept sherry on her sideboard in a cut-crystal decanter. As a child, Merrilee had thought nothing was prettier than when the sun’s rays turned the liquid to molten golden brown. When she’d first gazed into Bull’s eyes, and it had been like staring at sun-lit sherry. In that instant, she’d been done for.

Now anxiety tightened her chest. Bull meant everything to her. What would happen if he found out that she hadn’t been honest with him? How would he react if he found out part of their relationship was predicated on a lie?

She forced a laugh. “Just a penny? No way. You’ll have to ante up more than that. I may be easy, but Merrilee Weatherspoon is not cheap, sir.”

Bull laughed along with her but there was a watchfulness about his weathered face that told her that he knew her well enough to sense her unrest. Luckily the two-way radio chose that moment to crackle to life.

She gave the transmission a go ahead and then couldn’t believe what she heard. Dalton and Bull stared open-mouthed. She asked for a repeat. Nope they’d all heard right. Despite the impending storm, a plane was enroute from Anchorage, requesting permission to land at Good Riddance. Someone was in for a rough ride. And though they were booked slap-dab full at the bed and breakfast, there was no way she could refuse an incoming plane landing in light of the storm. She radioed back an affirmative.

She looked at Bull, Dalton, Clint and Tessa Bellingham.

Bull quirked a speculative eyebrow. “Someone’s either crazy as a shithouse rat or desperate.”

“Maybe both. I hope whoever is flying that plane charged double—” Dalton glanced out the window at the wind kicking up a dust storm of snow “—make that triple.”

“It’s Durden,” Merrilee said, identifying the pilot by the information in the landing request.

Clint nodded. “Durden’s a little bit of both. And he’ll have to stay over too.”

Dalton leaned against the edge of the desk. “Yep. Nobody will be flying out in this tonight.”

Merrilee forced a smile. “Good thing we keep extra sleeping bags on hand.” She glanced over at Bull. “And if need be I can bunk over at your place.”