Sexy, Single And Searching: Sexy, Single And Searching / Eager, Eligible And Alaskan

He shook his head. “Nope. She steals whatever she can get her teeth on. Jewelry, candy, socks, pens, car keys.”

Lulu whined and gave them an I-was-framed expression, as if she knew her thieving habits were the topic of conversation.

“Yeah, we’re talking about you,” Mack assured the dog. He stood and leaned nonchalantly with one shoulder against the wall.

Cammie Jo glanced up and realized she was eye level with the zipper of his blue jeans. Unnerved, she shot to her feet.

Mack’s eyes met hers.

She gulped then blurted, “Uh…what are you doing here? I thought you had to pick up more passengers in Anchorage.”

“I do,” he said.

Her hurly-burly heart lub-dubbed. Had he come looking for her? But why would he do that? His presence seemed so intimate, so cozy, so wrong. And yet her blood was singing through her veins like a chorus of Christmas carolers.

“Why are you here?”

“I found something under the passenger seat of my plane. Thought this might have fallen out of your luggage.”

“Oh?” She arched an eyebrow. No telling what she might have dropped in her haste to get away from him. “What is it?”

From his pocket he withdrew a thin scrap of scarlet silk and stretched it over his palm.

Cammie Jo pushed her glasses up on her nose and stared at what he held in his hand.

A pair of thong undies.

How in the world did women wear these silly things without getting a permanent wedgie? Just the idea of putting them on made her squirm with discomfort.

“Although,” he continued, “this type of undergarment doesn’t really seem your style. I thought it might belong to one of my previous passengers. I feel like Prince Charming going door to door trying to find the Cinderella that fits these panties.”

Normally, she would have been embarrassed witnessing a handsome man handle dainty undies, but the smug look on his face irritated her to the point where she just snapped. He was so certain she was a boring fuddy-duddy, that she would never wear something as brazen as this—which of course she wouldn’t, but he had no right to make such an assumption about her—that Cammie Jo fibbed.

“Yes, they are mine.” She snatched the panties from his grasp and thrust out her jaw, daring him to contradict her.

The expression of surprise on his face made her feel something she’d never felt before. Boldness? She prodded the emotion. No, not quite boldness, something saucier than mere audacity.

She rested her hands on her hips. His eyes tracked her movements. He gazed at her as if trying to picture her in that thong. He shook his head as if he couldn’t even visualize it.

Cammie Jo notched her chin upward and looked just above the top of his head. A trick she’d learned in graduate school when she had to give lectures to undergrads. Don’t make eye contact and you’ll be okay.

“What did you think? That I wear white cotton, high-waisted granny panties?”

Which was indeed exactly what she had on beneath her clothes. Aunt Hildegard did everyone’s underwear shopping during the twice-a-year white sales, and Cammie Jo had never cared enough about the issue to buy her own panties. But she would roll over and die before she would admit such a thing to Mack, who thought he had her pegged right down to her choice of lingerie.

“I never said that.” A speculative note crept into his voice and in that moment Cammie Jo was able to label the amazing new sensation churning inside her.

By gum, she was feeling cocky. Puffed up with pride and ready to take whatever he dished out.

“I’m much more than I appear on the surface, Mr. McCaulley. Still waters run deep.”

“Apparently so.” He seemed a bit taken aback.

“Thong undies are just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes it is.”

“Okay, then. I believe you. They’re your panties. Mystery solved.”

“Anything else?” she sassed. She was astonished, pleased and giddy with the thrill of her new-found bravado.

“Nooo. Guess that’s it.”

It was only later, after he’d sauntered away, that Cammie Jo realized from whence her unexpected bravery had sprung.

The treasured wish totem resting in her pocket.

3

ONCE SHE WAS safely ensconced in her room, Cammie Jo took off some of her layers of clothing and moved to stare out the window overlooking Main Street.

People crowded the road, wandering in and out of the shops and restaurants. Honestly, she hadn’t expected so much activity. Crowds made her nervous.

Everything makes you nervous. Like good-looking bush pilots.

A sudden rap at the door startled her so much she almost fell off the window seat.

Was it Mack?

Holding her breath, Cammie Jo crept to the door. Rats! No peephole. And no chain.

Timidly, she cracked the door open and peeked out. A gorgeous woman who looked like the actress Charlize Theron stood there smiling at her, a pen and notebook in her hand.

“Hi,” she said.

“Uh, hi,” Cammie Jo responded, impressed with the woman’s smartly tailored clothes and flawless skin.

“I’m Kay Freemont with Metropolitan magazine, and I’m the one who picked your entry to win the free vacation. I’d like to interview you if I may.”

“Oh.” Cammie Jo opened the door wider. “Come on in.”

Kay stepped into the room and Cammie Jo closed the door behind her.

“Did you come all the way from New York just to interview me?”

“No.” Kay’s smile crinkled the corners of her brown eyes. Cammie Jo realized that even though Kay looked very worldly and sophisticated, she was only a couple of years older than her own twenty-five years. “I live in Bear Creek now.”