High Impact (19 page)

“You got a deal.”

Thoughts of Pasha absorbed Emery so fully she nearly collided with Mandy Fillmore, who stopped abruptly and pointed to the right. The dense spruce forest made it difficult to see what had captured her attention.

“What is that? The big thing up there in the tree? See it?” Mandy, a fifty-something redhead, had surgically enhanced double Ds.

Her husband Joe, a balding corporate type, peered through his binoculars. “Hawk of some kind, maybe.”

“A northern hawk owl, I believe.” Toni Whitaker spoke from behind her own binoculars. Chaz, no longer in sight, apparently hadn’t heard them.

“Are you a birdwatcher?” Mandy asked as the four of them started off again.

“No. I just read a lot,” Toni replied. “I borrowed a lot of books from the library about Alaska.”

“Good memory, then,” Joe said.

Chaz, Ruth, and Alyson had waited for them a short distance farther on.

“We’re cutting through a mountain pass,” Chaz told them. “Pretty soon we cross over a shallow creek and climb a hill. Over the rise you’ll have a great view and a chance to see some wildlife.”

As promised, they emerged from the trees a half hour later and found themselves on a high plateau, looking down at an expanse of open tundra cut in half by a wide river and framed by mountains. Everyone quickly brought their camera up. Below them they saw at least a couple of hundred caribou, the massive bulls with their still-velvet-covered antlers and the females and their frisky young. The herd seemed to move as one, grazing slowly, pawing the landscape with broad, flat hooves and stripping the tundra of every lichen, wildflower, tuft of moss, or shoot of cotton grass. Ahead, the vast plain glowed with color, but the route they’d traveled looked like a newly plowed field of brown.

Emery and the others stood mesmerized, awed, the only sound the clicking of shutters.

They stayed there more than an hour, watching and snapping photos, speaking in church-like whispers. Appropriate, Emery thought. This, too, was a sacred experience.

*

Pasha glanced at her watch. The group should be returning any minute and she was anxious to see what the clients, particularly Emery, thought about the lunch she’d prepared. Dita paid meticulous attention to the menus for her trips, determined to ensure that each meal reflected her commitment to providing clients with a truly first-class wilderness experience. Pasha’s previous experience in a kitchen had been a key factor in her beating out a couple of hundred other applicants.

For their first meal, she’d start them off with a mixed greens salad with sliced pear, goat cheese, walnuts, and balsamic vinaigrette. The main course included lobster-shrimp bisque and grilled baguette rounds brushed with herbed butter. Just before serving, she’d finish each bowl with brandy, fresh parsley, and a generous handful of sweet crabmeat. And for dessert, she’d prepared dark-chocolate brownies, laced with orange liqueur and crowned with fresh raspberries.

For dinner, she’d make one of her specialties, Alaska chicken Oscar: grilled chicken breast, topped with asparagus and king crab smothered in Béarnaise sauce. All the meal plans were similarly upscale, with room for some creative alterations if Chaz or the Fillmores got lucky and caught some fish.

Pasha had found it fairly easy to adapt most of her recipes and others they’d found on the Internet to the limitations of cooking outdoors, but a couple had required some fine-tuning, particularly the baked goods. Last fall, after the season ended, she’d cooked a lot of practice dinners for her and Dita on the field equipment, until both were well satisfied with the results. They could afford to feed the clients well. Three-day guided trips in the backcountry cost upwards of fifteen hundred dollars per person.

Cooking so close to the noisy river, she couldn’t hear the clients approach and relied on the power and her frequent glances toward the trailhead to alert her. When the power started inching stronger, she knew they were getting close. The first person she spotted emerging from the woods was Chaz, with Emery and the others right behind. Judging by their smiles it had been a productive excursion.

Some of them went to their tents to drop off their packs, but Emery headed toward her.

“We saw the most amazing herd of caribou,” Emery called as she neared. “Chaz took us to this great lookout point, where we…” She halted abruptly when she saw the spread of food Pasha had laid out on their folding table. “Whoa. I was expecting grilled-cheese sandwiches and tomato soup or something.”

“Not on my watch,” Pasha said, and grinned. “Though I do make a mean gouda-apple grilled cheese, and my homemade basil tomato bisque is to die for, you get the real gourmet treatment on these trips.”

“You’re making my mouth water.” Emery glanced back toward the others, who were still busy in their tents or washing up for lunch. “Don’t suppose I can nibble on something?”

“Go ahead and get some salad,” she said. “No need to wait.”

Emery shed her pack and dug in. She was happily munching away as the rest ambled over and started to serve themselves.

Once the clients had all settled into the folding chairs she’d set up around the cook site, Pasha walked around with a carafe, serving fresh-squeezed lemonade.

“This rocks,” Alyson said. “I live on takeout pizza.”

Other compliments followed, increasing dramatically once they got their soup.

Toni raved. “I can’t believe you made this on a gas stove. Amazing job.”

“Best I’ve ever had.” Mandy echoed her, and her husband nodded in assent.

“Did you go to cooking school?” Emery asked.

Pasha shook her head. “I worked as a line cook for four years at a restaurant on Cape Cod and picked up stuff. I’ve had a lot of jobs. You can kind of say I’m one of those jack-of-all-trades, master-of-none types.”

“What else have you done?” Ruth asked.

“Well, let’s see. I worked for a florist for a while right out of college,” Pasha said. “Then I helped out at a fish market. Went from there to the restaurant…did a stint with a landscaping company…a pet-sitting/dog walking service…and finally a salon, before I ended up here.”

“Don’t suppose you learned how to cut hair at that salon, did you?” Emery threaded her fingers through the long errant bangs that kept getting in her face. “These are bugging the hell out of me. “

Pasha had noticed Emery was long overdue for a trim, and she was certainly capable of doing a more than adequate job. It would be a good excuse to get some alone time together so she could assess what her gift would do when they touched again. She just had to ensure they had some degree of privacy so no one but Emery would know if she got dizzy again. “As it so happens, we’ve got a good sharp pair of scissors along. I can fix you up after dinner tonight if you like.”

“Great.” Emery smiled, her dark eyes narrowed in under-standing. Another fine example of their secret communication without words.

“What do the rest of you do?” Chaz asked the other clients.

“We’re the Geek Squad,” Ruth said. “Toni, Alyson, and I are all computer programmers for a firm in Silicon Valley.”

“So, is it a relief to be off-line for a few days or is it driving you crazy?” Pasha started passing out the brownies, glad she’d planned for extras when she saw Joe and Mandy Fillmore start with two each.

“It’s making me a little nuts,” Toni admitted with a frown. “Not to mention the fact that I preordered the new iPhone months ago, and it’s going to arrive while I’m gone.”

“How many computers does a computer programmer own?” Chaz asked.

“Seven,” Ruth answered. “If you only count the ones I have at home.”

Alyson chimed in. “Five.”

“Okay, I guess that makes me the nerd queen.” Toni chuckled. “I have twelve.”

“Twelve?” Mandy Fillmore gaped at her.

“I have a weakness for every new high-tech gadget that hits the market,” Toni explained. “I don’t want to think about how many cell phones, laptops, e-book readers, computers, and iPods I’ve gone through in the last few years.”

“I thought I’d be missing my big flat-screen and soaps more than I am,” Mandy said. “This was Joe’s idea and I wasn’t happy about it at first, but I have to admit I’m having a blast.”

“Me, too,” Toni quickly added. “Ruth had to do a lot of convincing to get me to come along. I’ve never been camping, I hate bugs and snakes, and the thought of having to use the bathroom out here…” She glanced around and winced as the others laughed. “But I’m really glad she did. I had no idea I’d enjoy it this much.”

“Glad to hear it,” Chaz said. “I’ve got some other great hikes planned, but this afternoon is free time. You can nap, read, take a walk along the river—not too far, please, and don’t strike off alone. We can do another hike after dinner if anyone’s interested. The later the better, really, in terms of taking pictures. The diffuse light as the sun gets low really makes colors pop.”

“I may take you up on that nap, if that’s the case.” Ruth rose and stretched. “Didn’t seem like we walked that far, but I’m beat. Maybe it’s just all this fresh air or my incredibly full stomach, but I think I better catch a few Zs if we may go out again later.”

“Well, Mandy and I are going to do some fishing. The licenses up here sure aren’t cheap,” Joe said as he wiped his chin with the back of his hand. “We’ve been into it for several years. One of the few things she’ll do with me outdoors.”

“I actually kind of like all the fuzzy little flies and fake beetles,” Mandy said. “And Joe takes the fish off my hook for me.”

“Want to walk up the river a ways?” Alyson asked Toni.

“Sure. If you promise to keep an eye out for a rock that resembles a luxury ladies’ room.”

The rest laughed or smiled as the group broke up and everyone went their separate ways.

Everyone but Emery. She stayed put in her folding chair. “How can I help clean up?”

“There you go again, getting all gallant on me,” Pasha replied as she stacked dishes to wash. “You’re the client. You’re supposed to enjoy yourself and let me do all the work.”

“Enjoy myself? Let’s see…I’m here with a very intriguing woman, in one of the most beautifully pristine settings on earth. Check. Mission accomplished.” She got to her feet but didn’t come nearer. “It will in no way diminish that enjoyment if I help you with the dishes or whatever else needs doing.”

Emery watched her intently, with such a sweet, playful expression that Pasha melted. How could she bear this kind of attention from Emery, even though she’d longed for it? During moments like this, when Emery seemed to also feel some kind of connection, her insides knotted and a low tremor of anticipation stretched every nerve ending in her body taut. The deliriously wonderful feeling frightened her at the same time. She didn’t completely embrace such loss of control. Yet she also knew that when Emery left, she’d miss it very, very much. “Pretty smooth talker, aren’t you?”

Emery grinned. “That mean you’re convinced?”

“Didn’t take much, and not because I mind cleaning up. But if you want to hang out and help, I certainly won’t object too strenuously.”

“Excellent. Assign me a task.”

“Well.” Pasha surveyed the cooking area and mentally ran through a list of things she needed to accomplish. “You get your choice. You can police the area and wash dishes, or you can help prep dinner.”

“Better put me on the former. Can’t mess up there too badly or poison anyone.”

“Something tells me you overstate your inabilities. I bet you claim you can’t cook so you can get others to cook for you,” she teased her, “but you’re secretly a whiz with a whisk.”

“I plead the fifth on that one.” Emery started to gather up the bowls and utensils.

“If there’s any uneaten food in those dishes—”

“Nope.” Emery seemed delighted to interrupt. “Everyone polished off every bite. Proof of how fabulous everything was.”

Pasha’s cheeks warmed from embarrassment. “I’m very happy you liked it.” She grabbed a squeeze bottle of biodegradable soap from the supplies. “Use these,” she said, tossing the bottle, a sponge, and a quick-dry towel to Emery. “As little soap as you need, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Emery walked to the water’s edge and stooped to begin. She worked quickly and efficiently on the first load and returned for the pots and pans. Those took more time but came back sparkling clean as well. Then she cleaned up the area, bagging the trash and depositing it into a bear-proof container.

Pasha busily prepped dinner, her back to the river, but the ebb and flow of the simmering tension in her body told her precisely when Emery was near, or far.

“All done,” Emery announced.

Pasha turned to find her relaxing in her camp chair, a few feet away. “How about some coffee? Or tea?”

“Coffee sounds great, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all. I brought a French press. I’ll have some, too.” She lit the camp stove and put water on to boil.

“Mind if I ask you some questions?” Emery asked.

“Not at all. How about we swap? One for you, one for me?” Pasha measured out coffee into the press.

“I’m good with that,” Emery replied.