Freezing Point (6 page)

“I promise, by then, I'll be using the chisel, and we can talk while I work.” He was an idiot.

Jesse glanced out the window and watched a silver SUV drive by the restaurant. He left Casey sitting in the booth and ran past the tables and booths filled with patrons. An elderly couple shuffled through the front door just as Jesse needed to push through, the bell announcing their arrival. Jesse eased by them but short of knocking them over, he couldn't exit the door fast enough.

The vehicle was gone. How many of that make and model could there be in this town? Could the drive-by have been sheer coincidence? Jesse pulled out his cell. He intended to find out.

T
hat afternoon, Casey sat at a makeshift desk in a forgotten cubicle that Danny Garcia had offered and began working on what little she had on the interview. It was very little, but it had been enough to convince Danny that she had an article. She chewed on her pencil and stared at the computer screen, her fingers on the keyboard.

That is, it was enough if Jesse didn't wig out on agreeing to meet her tonight. What was with him anyway? One minute he was coming to her rescue and fighting off villains, changing her tire, all while being attentive to her needs and sprinkling that with a little flirting. The next minute he acted like he wished he could scrape her off his shoe. It was enough to drive a reporter looking for a story crazy. Desperation had driven her to seek him out in the first place, and then extreme situations had driven her to experience safety in his arms. The powerful attraction she had to the man didn't help matters.

But Jesse's protective nature seemed only to appear under the direst of circumstances. She'd completed an internet search on one Jesse Dufour and came up with no one by the same name who fit, except for a cursory mention on the Helms Ice website. Jesse was a conundrum. She'd have to
work harder to shove aside her incessant need to dig at the truth. She wasn't a truth finder now, she was a fluff reporter.

Get in for the story and get out. That's all you need to do.

She'd needed this job for the money and something to take her mind from Will Tannin, but maybe it was a mistake to ignore what happened this morning. Casey reached for her phone, planning to call Meg and find out if Tannin was still in Oregon.

Danny Garcia appeared in the cubicle entry, his wavy black hair nearly covering his left eye, and a pencil shoved over his ear. He tossed some papers on the desk. “Here. Fill these out. You can't get a paycheck until we have your info. It's all contingent on the story. Don't forget.”

Casey's throat tightened. “I got it.”

He slid to partially sit on her desk. “What exactly brings you to our little town, Miss Wilkes? I read some of your work. You're good.”

Casey rolled her chair back and studied Danny. Was he friend or foe? A little twinkle in his eye told her the former. “Just call me Carson, okay?”

Danny laughed, revealing his other side. He wasn't so gruff, after all. Or maybe it was just that all the men in Orange Crossings had to appear tough and unlikable at first.

“Carson it is.” He slid off the desk and walked out of the cubicle as though he'd given up his inquisition, but then, at the last second he leaned back in. “Just so we're clear, when things have died down and you're willing to write a real story, let's have a go at those exposés. That is, if you're planning to stay.”

Casey felt her jaw drop.

“Don't look so surprised. I talked to Eddie and he explained. What? Did you think I wouldn't check up on you?” Danny smiled then disappeared.

He knew? He'd talked to Eddie? Then why did he ask? Did that mean Eddie wasn't expecting her to come back?

A quiver started in her belly then worked its way over her body. She hoped Danny's call to Eddie hadn't somehow been intercepted by Tannin, or could somehow lead him to her. She'd been flabbergasted at the lengths to which he'd gone as it was—the email and newspaper hacks.

Oh, Danny…why couldn't he have simply asked her instead? He'd taken her on her word that she could get the story, and he hadn't exactly inquired about the details of her résumé.

She'd thought this morning's incident could have been more of Tannin torturing her because he'd found her. Then she'd dismissed it. Jesse's questions had made her believe she was overreacting, but she was reevaluating the wisdom in that.

Jesse.

He'd been there, protecting her both last night and this morning. But she'd be a fool to think she could count on him to be there every time, especially if Tannin did show up. Jesse wasn't her protector, for crying out loud. He wasn't even her boyfriend, nor did he have a clue she was in danger, that she'd been running. She barely knew the guy and yet she'd allowed herself, if only for a short time, to take shelter in his arms.

By five o'clock, Casey had some semblance of an article, though she had plenty of empty space in her outline of questions. After shutting the desktop computer down for the day, she blew out a breath and shoved to her feet. It felt good to be back at work. She'd drive through Taco Bell before swinging home to grab something warm to wear. Tonight she'd wear her own coat, so she wouldn't have to endure Jesse's scent, though she hardly found it distasteful. But that was beside the point.

She wondered which Jesse she would get—the Jesse who
sent warm tickles through her or the Jesse who made her think she was an annoying fly he wanted to swat.

That had to be it. He didn't like reporters.

Her cell rang.
Meg.
She'd been waiting on this call.

“Hey, girl. Got your message.”

“Well?”

“Will Tannin is still in town. I did a drive-by and spotted him with that same woman. Who knows? Maybe they're an item now.”

“Do you think he's forgotten about me? Forgotten about his threats?”

“I think it's too soon to know. You haven't been gone that long. And remember, Casey, you destroyed his life. That's something he's not likely to forget anytime soon or ever.”

 

Having handed off Casey's tire for further investigation, Jesse sped through town, hoping he didn't miss her. When he turned into the parking lot of the ice company, he found her leaning against her car, waiting. Fortunately, he'd had a chance to mention to Miguel and Carlos that Casey was interviewing him, and he'd be working with her tonight at his studio. He was treading too close to the brink, but there was no going back. Admiring her slim frame, Jesse pulled into a parking spot a few spaces over.

When he climbed from the Jeep and made his way around, she shoved upright from the car and smiled. “I was afraid you'd forgotten.”

“Nope, didn't forget,” he said as he tugged the keys to his studio out of his pocket.

Unlocking the door, he held it open for her. She strolled in, a jacket slung over her shoulder.

He liked her spunk. “I see you remembered to bring a coat.”

She whirled around and smiled at him. “Yep. I've got all
the necessities for a night out in the cold, except maybe a bag of chestnuts.” She tugged a cap from the coat pocket.

“Chestnuts?” Jesse closed the door behind him and locked it since it was after hours.

“You know—‘The Christmas Song'?” Casey sang a few lyrics of the old classic. She had a good, strong singing voice.

“Hey, I wouldn't have thought you could sing,” he teased.

She sidled up to him as he started making coffee. What was she up to? Flirting to see if she could get more answers from him? Well, he was on to her.

“What's that supposed to mean?” she asked.

“It means I didn't know reporters could sing.”

She slung her bag at him. Laughing, he ducked, almost losing the coffee grounds. “Hey, watch it. You want coffee or not?” What was it about this woman?

“Actually, I'm buzzing from too much already.”

“Well, if you want some, I'm making it for you.” He stuck the carafe into the slot and turned on the switch. When he looked at Casey, she had an expression on her face that he couldn't place. Soft and glowing and…questioning. She had the look of a woman who wanted more than an interview.

Jesse kept his hands to himself, firmly planted in his pockets. But his gaze left her eyes—that couldn't be longing he saw there, could it?—and traveled to her lips. Was she toying with him?

Thinking of McCoffey breathing down his neck, Jesse frowned. He had work to do, and Casey was getting in his way. Miguel was close to giving him what he needed to finish this operation. That's all he wanted.

“Ah, now don't do that,” she whispered.

“Do what?” He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. His suspicions were beginning to mount. She was using her sweet tone to play him. To his chagrin, he admitted it might, just might, be working.

“Don't switch back to the old Jesse.”

“The old Jesse? I think you've had too much caffeine, like you said. You're not making any sense.” He shoved away from the counter and walked toward his office. Placing his hand on the doorknob, he swung around to look at her. “You ready?”

She nodded. He tried to ignore her graceful, feminine movements as she strolled his way.
Get a grip, man.

“I like the other Jesse, the guy who's nice to me, who changes my tires and smiles in a warm, friendly way.”

Oh, that Jesse. The one who'd slipped and subtly responded to an insane attraction to her. The one who, if he allowed that part of him to respond to her again, just might give too much away in the interview. That had to be what she was after.

Casey was a sharp woman and had read him well. He'd better stay on his toes while near her.

He held the door as she stepped through and tugged on the jacket she brought. “You are one moody man.”

And here he thought he was doing a bang-up job of managing his roles.

 

Mesmerized, Casey had watched Jesse work with his chisel, bringing the block of ice to life. For just over an hour she had asked him questions about his background—which he managed to generalize—and about ice sculpting. Her fingers were getting numb again so she put aside her notepad.

“You know, I think I might be able to figure out what you're carving.”

“Oh? What's that?” he said, without looking at her.

Still, she saw the grin on his face.

“Something Egyptian—like a throne of some sort.”

“I'll never tell. I'm not sure it's going to be enough for the competition.”

“I think it's beautiful.”

For the first time since she'd started talking, he paused. He stood tall and stretched his arms. “I'm glad you like it,” he said.

He'd answered her questions satisfactorily, at least well enough for her to write an article. Except, she had one more.

“Have you decided yet whether you'll allow me to follow your progress through the competition?”

Jesse chipped away at the sculpture again, ignoring her question. She knew he'd heard her. He'd been listening and answering questions for a while now. What could she do to convince him to let her stay?

He seemed to like her for more than just a reporter—at times, that is. But then, he acted as though he wished she would just leave. Why couldn't he be one way or the other? It would make things much easier.

Finally, he stood and tossed his chisel on the table. “I didn't realize it was so late and you're cold again. Your lips look blue.”

Casey reflexively put a gloved finger to her mouth. She glanced at Jesse and noticed his gaze lingered on her lips. “You're right. We should call it a night. I'll come back tomorrow.”

He blew out a breath, appearing drained. She wondered what sort of strain an ice sculptor would come under doing his job, but then his stress could have everything to do with family or other circumstances and nothing to do with the job. But so far, he'd managed to evade all her personal questions except for one.

She'd ask him about a significant other and he'd shaken his head. She'd breathed a little easier knowing their innocent flirting, when it arose, wasn't intruding on a relationship.

Casey wanted to know the real Jesse Dufour. Not just the ice sculptor. How did she break that barrier? How did they become more than a reporter interviewing a sculptor?

“Listen, I told you I needed to think about it. Give me until tomorrow, okay? But have you gotten what you need for your article? So you can get your job?” This time he poured on the double-dimple grin.

Casey slipped and nearly fell off the stool. She was tired, that's all. “I think so, but I'm hoping for more.”

Their eyes locked, and Casey couldn't bring herself to look away. Jesse didn't fare any better.

“I need to go,” she said. She'd seen something behind his eyes—it terrified her and thrilled her at the same time.

“Yeah, wait up, and I'll walk you out.”

Casey pushed through the door into the warmer room, though it was still too cool for comfort in her opinion. At least she was able to accomplish a lot today and could be proud of this article when she finished. Hopefully, Danny would like her work and allow her to continue to work with Jesse through the competition.

The only roadblock now was Jesse, himself.

Fifteen minutes later, he still hadn't come out of that freezer where he carved the sculptures. Maybe he needed to pack it away for the night or something, though she couldn't see why.

What was he doing in there?

Casey opened the door to look inside, hoping to hurry him along. On the phone, he jerked his head up and knitted his brow. Hadn't he said he wanted to walk her out? Too tired to deal with his mood changes, she slammed the door.

“Goodbye, Jesse Dufour,” she whispered and hurried out to the parking lot. The door closed automatically behind her. Suddenly Casey was startled by the dark. What happened to the lights?

The minimal illumination from distant parking lots didn't help her much, and clouds must have moved in, hiding the moon. She couldn't see a thing, much less her car.

It was a little creepy out here.

Casey reached behind her for the door handle and tugged.

Locked.

Okay, there was nothing for it. She had to go forward. Picturing where she knew her car to be, she moved in that direction but tripped on something, bending her ankle at an awkward position.

Casey yelped. She stepped on her foot again to test it. She'd live.

Feeling somewhat embarrassed at her outcry—though who would have heard her—and her sudden fear of the dark, Casey stood perfectly still and took a deep breath.