Authors: Vicki Lewis Thompson
“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Just Fort Knox safe.
“I meant awkward for
both
of us, Mitchell. It can’t be easy for you, having me near and yet knowing that nothing will ever change.”
He thought plenty had already changed. She’d never entertained thoughts of sex with him before tonight. And he knew good and well she’d entertained them a little while ago.
“I know exactly what you need,” she said.
“Do you?” He couldn’t resist putting a little heat into his gaze.
Sure enough, she blushed. “I mean, other than that. You need to find the right woman for you, and I’m not that woman. You need someone who’s… more like you.”
“In what way?” By getting her to answer that question, he could check out how his nerd disguise was working.
She hesitated, obviously searching for a description that wouldn’t offend him. “You know… someone quiet and methodical.”
He nodded. So far, so good.
She brightened, as if encouraged that he was accepting her description. “You need someone who likes a more structured life, someone who’s happy with a steady routine. I mean, look at me—running off to Alaska, abandoning the life I’ve known for twenty-six years, giving up all the advantages of a big city and the warmth of sunny L.A. so I can freeze my butt in a one-Bronco town like Porcupine. That’s so not you, Mitchell.”
“You’re right about that.”
“See?” She looked triumphant. “We’re all wrong for each other. I’m ready for change and adventure, and you’re… you’re…” She seemed to have run out of sympathetic adjectives to attach to his blah self.
“Boring?” he supplied helpfully.
“No! I don’t mean that. You’re incredibly reliable, and that’s wonderful. The world needs all kinds of people, and you’re
great
at what you do.”
He certainly hoped so, if that meant he could help her avoid the clutches of a guy like Kurt. “I accept the label of boring,” he said. “Don’t think you have to make me sound like Russell Crowe. I know my strengths and I know my weaknesses. You’re not going to damage my fragile ego.”
She regarded him silently for a few seconds. “That’s good,” she said, a new note in her voice. Was it interest? “That’s very good. Self-confidence is a valuable thing. But I think hanging around here is liable to erode—”
“Look, Ally, you’ve made it clear that you’re not the one for me. I accept that. But this sudden dash to Alaska scared the shit out of me. Before I leave, I have to establish for myself that you’re going to be okay up here.”
“I will
be fine
up here.” The rebellious light was back in her eyes. “Perfectly fine. These are good people.”
“So far, I agree with you. The ones I’ve met seem like good people. Fixated on sex, but good people. I haven’t met everyone yet.”
A muscle in her jaw worked. “It’s a small town. I’ll bet you could meet them all in an hour. Then off you go.”
“Like I said, I care about you. For my own peace of mind, I need to know that you’re in good hands before I leave.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She stood and used her towel to wipe the blackberry juice from her mouth. “Now you sound like an insurance company commercial. I’ve tried to spare your feelings in gratitude for what you’ve done for Grammy and for me, but the truth is—in case you’ve missed the message—I don’t want you to stay. I don’t care a whole lot about your peace of mind, to be perfectly honest.”
He stood and pulled off his towel so he could wipe his mouth, too. Ultimatums weren’t as effective when you had blackberry juice smeared all over your mouth, and he was about to deliver one. “Tough.”
She stared at him. “
Tough?
Is that what you just said?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Can I fire you?”
“I don’t think so. Maybe. You’d have to come back to L.A. and talk to the lawyers who drew up the trust.”
She bristled. “And wouldn’t you just love that? You’d get me to abandon my Alaskan adventure and fly back to L.A. so I could be bogged down in legal details trying to get you fired, which I might not even be able to do. Probably can’t do, if I know Grammy. She put some clause in there that requires me to prove you embezzled or something equally drastic. I doubt there’s a provision for me to fire you because you’re a pain in the ass.”
He kept his face free of expression as he gazed at her. Madeline’s instructions had been quite specific in that regard and Ally didn’t have grounds to get rid of him. He’d make sure she never had grounds. And he would do the job Madeline had hired him for, whether Ally liked it or not.
“And here I was starting to think you were an okay guy. But an okay guy would grab a clue and leave. He would not stay and inflict himself on a woman just for his own peace of mind.” She paused, as if gathering more insults to hurl at him. “Haven’t you ever heard that saying, that if you love something, you should let it fly free?”
“I’ve heard it.”
“Well? What do you have to say about that?”
“Once I’ve checked out your fly zone, you can flap around in it all you want. But I’ve been charged with administering your sizable estate. Can you imagine the truckload of paperwork I’d have to deal with if anything happened to you? I hate to even think about it.”
She blew out an indignant breath. “So this isn’t really about your having the hots for me, is it? It’s about simplifying your job! It would be very inconvenient for you if I turned up missing. Is that what you’re saying?”
“That’s what I’m saying.” Maybe a little hostility was healthy. Maybe then she wouldn’t throw any more sexual vibes his way.
She stood with her hands on her hips, legs spread in a belligerent stance. “I’m beginning to get the picture. Before I left, you had everything running like clockwork, just the way your little anal mind likes it, and now I’ve thrown a monkey wrench into your neat little world.”
“That’s one way of describing it.” He wished that he could forget that she was most likely naked under that flannel. She might not be feeling sexual desire right now, but he hadn’t completely tamed his woody. He held his towel in supposed nonchalance while he allowed it to dangle protectively in front of that area.
“And you can’t deal with the unexpected, can you, Mitchell?”
“I’d rather not.” In his line of work, the unexpected meant he hadn’t done his homework and had left an opening for the bad guys.
“Well, using your word, that’s
tough
. Expect the unexpected. And now I’d appreciate it if you’d take your unwelcome presence back to your own room.”
“I was just leaving. See you in the morning.”
“Not if I see you first.”
Once his back was turned and he was on his way to his room, he could allow himself the grin that had been threatening ever since she’d started her tirade. The exchange had actually gone very well. He’d rather have her mad at him than feeling sorry for him. Less temptation.
He’d also shored up his role as Mr. Killjoy, the nerdy wet blanket, someone who would rather see her safe than happy. He wouldn’t mind seeing her both safe
and
happy, but with her current trajectory, the two seemed mutually exclusive. So he’d opt for safe, and let happy take a back seat for now.
* * *
Ally woke up in the dark to the alarm on the watch she’d shoved under her pillow. She turned it off immediately, not wanting to take the chance that Mitchell might hear it. Then she listened for the howl of the wind and the splat of snow against her window. Blissful silence greeted her.
Maybe the storm was over! On that happy note, she bopped out of bed, gasping at how cold the room was.
Shivering, she whipped off her pajamas and struggled into her clothes.
Seven o’clock. Mitchell would be sawing logs because he wouldn’t yet be acclimated to how late the sun came up on winter mornings in Alaska. He’d sleep in late, just as she had on her first morning.
She wished to hell it would be his last morning here, too, but she couldn’t think of a way to run him out of town. So she’d have to make herself scarce. If the storm had truly ended, she’d get out there with her camera before Mitchell even knew she was gone.
What a thrill, to anticipate a few hours of freedom without him hovering around peering behind every tree searching for the Big Bad Wolf. He was more overprotective than Grammy, and that was saying something. To think that for a brief time last night she’d imagined herself sexually attracted to him.
To think for a while she’d imagined him sexually attracted to
her
. Maybe the glare from the lamp had reflected off his glasses and she’d mistaken it for a gleam of desire. A man who needed predictability in all avenues of his life would run from honest-to-God lust. Nothing about lust was predictable, as witnessed by Betsy and Clyde last night.
She hoped Betsy and Clyde were sleeping in, too. She would prefer putting a few more hours between last night’s hokey-pokey in the hallway and a face-to-face with Betsy. However, making herself a sandwich before she left for the day would mean she could avoid Mitchell that much longer.
He wasn’t the type to go wandering around looking for her once she gave him the slip. Not someone as frightened of the unexpected as Mitchell. She’d left her parka and boots in the hall, so all she needed was her backpack. Grabbing it by the strap, she tiptoed out of her room, ready to begin Operation Ditch Mitchell.
As she crept down the stairs, guided only by the light from the Tiffany lamp on the registration desk, she heard the sound of someone humming “Keep Your Sunny Side Up.” A female someone. A female someone working in the kitchen. Betsy.
Ally sighed and considered her options. Number one, it was still dark outside. Leaving early had seemed like a great idea, but in reality she wasn’t familiar with the area and wandering around in the snow with a flashlight didn’t seem particularly productive. She wasn’t prepared to take pictures of animals in the dark, wasn’t even sure how to do that.
Number two, if she planned to stay out there for hours, she needed something to eat. All the available food was in the kitchen with Betsy. And Ally would have to talk to Betsy sooner or later, anyway.
Number three, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee made Ally’s mouth water. She’d had some of Betsy’s coffee yesterday, and it was ambrosia. Betsy owned a manual coffee bean grinder and wielded it like a maestro. For a hot cup of coffee on an icy cold morning, Ally could handle some uncomfortable moments with Betsy.
She could even handle seeing Clyde in the kitchen, too, so long as Clyde hadn’t backed Betsy up against the refrigerator. If Betsy kept humming, that was a good sign. Most women didn’t hum “Keep Your Sunny Side Up” while having sex. Of course, with Betsy, anything was possible.
Ally walked into the kitchen to find Clyde sitting at the table with a giant mug of coffee in front of him. He’d positioned himself so that he could watch Betsy moving around the kitchen, and boy, was he watching. When she leaned over to put a pan of biscuits in the oven, his Adam’s apple bobbed and he started to get out of his chair.
“Good morning!” Ally said brightly, figuring she needed to announce herself quickly before Clyde acted on his impulse and leaped on Betsy. Judging from last night, he didn’t require a bed to start the proceedings.
Clyde whipped around and sat down again with a thump. To his credit, after his first look of deep disappointment, he smiled at Ally. “Good morning to you, too, Ally. How’s your head this morning after all those Irish coffees?”
“Pretty good, actually.”
How’s your ding-dong after all those orgasms?
Betsy closed the oven door and turned toward Ally. Her chin was red with whisker burn and her eyes sparkled. “Hey, there, Ally! Isn’t this a gorgeous day?”
Ally swallowed. “Sure is! I mean, I’m sure it will be, once the sun comes up, although when it’s still dark, it’s a little hard to know whether it’ll be a nice day or not… isn’t it?” She tried to pretend she had no idea why Betsy was in such good spirits, and
really
tried to block out the memory of what she’d heard while stranded in the kitchen with Mitch.
“I wasn’t talking about the weather.” Betsy winked at Clyde. “Was I, Poopsie?”
“I don’t suppose you were, Kitty-cat.” Clyde gazed at her with obvious adoration.
Betsy blew him a kiss. Then she glanced at Ally. “Isn’t he the cutest thing you ever saw?”
Ally scrambled for a response. Clyde, aka Poopsie, looked like a gnome, with his hooked nose, thin hair, and caved-in chest. He might be five-four if he stood up very straight.
“You’re embarrassing the poor girl, Kitty-cat,” Clyde said. “She doesn’t know what to make of me sitting here in your kitchen.”
Betsy grinned at Ally. “Oh, I think she knows exactly what to make of it. And let me tell you, Ally, he was worth the wait.”
“You’re the one who kept me waiting, Kitty-cat,” Clyde said fondly. “I told you I was ready any time, anywhere.”
Ally gulped.
“And you certainly backed up that boast, Poopsie. Ally, this man is a marvel. Such stamina.”
“You bring out the beast in me,” Clyde said.
“Hey, is there any more coffee?” Ally wondered if Betsy kept a travel mug around somewhere. Ally was ready to travel. A girl could only be expected to deal with so much information.
“Yeah, I’d love a cup of coffee, too.”
Ally spun around. Sure enough, Mitchell stood in the kitchen doorway. “What are you doing up?” she asked.
“It’s after seven. I always get up by seven.”
“But it’s still dark out!” She couldn’t believe that her escape plan was already compromised. She also couldn’t believe that he had on dress slacks, a dress shirt, a tie, and his same ugly sport coat. Surely he knew that it looked ridiculous in general, and especially ridiculous in Porcupine, Alaska.
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter if it’s dark or light. As you pointed out, I’m a creature of habit. I like routine.” He glanced at her backpack. “Going somewhere?”