He’s just a warm body on a cold Alaskan night…

Miranda Sinclair, reeling on the anniversary of her sister’s death, indulges in a passionate night with a stranger. The next day she’s shocked to discover he’s her new boss, Jeremiah Burke! And he got the job she thought was hers.

Still, she’s nothing if not practical. She wants to forget about their night together and focus on tracking the poachers killing black bears on her mountain. Besides, she’s not looking for a relationship, and her instincts tell her Jeremiah is hiding something. Too bad the attraction between them won’t go away, and Miranda starts to wonder if one night will ever be enough….

“My place is just around the corner.”

Miranda seemed to read his mind with those words. “Interested?”

Jeremiah wanted to shout hell, yes but a sliver of reserve had him counter, “Not that I’m not interested, but how about you? Didn’t your father ever warn you about taking off with strange men from bars? I could be a pervert or a serial killer.”

She slid from her barstool and graced him with a dazzling smile that was a bit menacing as she said, “My daddy taught me to shoot a gun, gut a fish and break a kneecap if need be. Strange men in bars don’t scare me.”

She slung her pack onto her back and headed for the door. She shot him a single questioning look, then kept walking. The message was clear: Come or stay, it doesn’t matter to me.

Dear Reader,

As a fan of the rugged beauty of a forest landscape, the startling vibrancy of Alaska’s wild frontier seemed a natural choice for my next series. It was easy to find inspiration in the endless photos of this gorgeous, untamed state, but it wasn’t as easy to find the perfect characters to build a series around. But as they say, nothing worth enjoying comes easily, so I am more than excited to invite you to step into the lives of the Sinclair family as they struggle to find their way to healing and, ultimately, love, while navigating the harsh conditions of their breathtaking state.

Miranda and Jeremiah’s love story is no soft climb to paradise—it’s fraught with danger, grief, emotional healing—but I hope you find their journey all the more satisfying for their struggle.

Hearing from readers is a special joy. Please feel free to drop me a line via email through my website at www.kimberlyvanmeter.com or through snail mail at Kimberly Van Meter, P.O. Box 2210, Oakdale, CA 95361.

Happy reading,

Kimberly Van Meter

That Reckless Night

Kimberly Van Meter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kimberly Van Meter wrote her first book at sixteen and finally achieved publication in December 2006. She writes for the Mills & Boon Superromance and Mills & Boon Romantic Suspense lines. She and her husband of seventeen years have three children, three cats and always a houseful of friends, family and fun.

I would like to thank Antoinette Ryun for her invaluable insight into Alaskan living.

Without her, I would’ve been unsure where to start, where to inquire, and ultimately lost in pages and pages of research. Thank you, girl!

To my family, twenty books in and you’re all still my biggest fans.

I’m a lucky girl and I will never forget how blessed I am.

To the residents of Alaska, you are so lucky to live in such an amazing place. Please forgive my poetic license regarding certain areas of the landscape. My creative vision of Homer is a pale imitation of this vibrant and thriving place!

Lastly, to my sister Kamrin, who in spite of becoming a new mom, acquiring her first home and still being a newlywed, agreed to become my assistant to help keep me (a flighty creative type!) on track. Thank you, Kikikins! I love you!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

MIRANDA SINCLAIR TOSSED the tequila popper to the back of her throat, relishing the burn as the liquor warmed her in all the right places, loosening up the tension in her shoulders from a craptastic day in the field and an even crappier anniversary.

“Keep ’em comin’.” She motioned to Russ, a hard-bitten man with cheeks made ruddy by countless years spent in the harsh Alaskan air, who owned and bartended The Rusty Anchor. She offered a grim smile as he slid the shooter across to her in a practiced move, and after she’d dispatched it in the same efficient manner, she swiveled on her barstool to survey the prospects for the night.

That was right—tonight she was going to take home one lucky SOB, ride him as if the world was going to end tomorrow, and then when the first tender rays of light hit the windowsill, she’d send him on his way with a cup of coffee and a boot print on his hindquarters.

It was a helluva plan.

“Killing yourself with booze and bad choices isn’t going to bring her back,” Russ said.

Miranda scowled. “Play bartender psychologist with someone else, Russ. I’m not interested in your counsel right now.”

Russ shook his head. “Always so filled with piss and vinegar. Girl, someday you’re going to have to rein in that acid tongue of yours.”

“So they say,” Miranda quipped. She had plenty of people telling her she needed to try tact once in a while; she didn’t need her bartender to join the chorus, too. “But not tonight. Come on, Russ. Stop crashing on my buzz. I need this.” Besides, contrary to Russ’s opinion, Miranda thought her plan of action was far better than the alternative—curling up in her worn recliner, nursing a bottle of Jack. “Today has to be up there as one of my worst days in a long time.”

“Yeah? What made it so bad?” Russ asked, polishing a glass, his dark eyes serious. Russ knew about the anniversary—for God’s sake, the whole town knew and never let her forget, seeing as it was everyone’s favorite go-to gossip topic—but he was asking about the less-obvious reason she wanted to blot out her brain with booze. She almost waved off his question, not sure she wanted to share, but she did anyway.

“I didn’t get the job,” she answered, her chest tightening again as bitterness followed. “Apparently, I’m not management material.” She tapped the bar with the shot glass for another round. “So, whatever.”

“Did they say why not?”

“Nope. I was just thanked for my interest in the position and politely informed that the department had chosen to go in another direction.” She looked pointedly at Russ and waggled her glass at him. He sighed and refilled it. Yep. This was a much better plan.

Done talking, she swiveled her chair away from Russ and surveyed the bar. Slim pickings to be sure. The bar was filled with the usual nightlife but the place stank of fish, which meant the men probably had wet socks and frozen toes because they were all in port from their commercial fishing outfits scattered throughout Alaska.

She recognized a few familiar faces, Johnny, Macho, Heff—all working on the halibut fishing boat The Arctic Maiden—and certainly not contenders for her purposes tonight. Miranda scanned the room and found a decided lack of options. So much for cutting up and losing herself in a night of debauchery she’d likely regret when she sobered up. For a brief—nanosecond-brief—moment she considered Luke Prather, but the last time she’d taken him to bed for a one-nighter he’d fallen head over heels in love with her and it’d been no fun whatsoever trying to scrape him off her doorstep for weeks afterward. That had been awkward and irritating. No, thanks. Her personal brand of misery did not include ducking the lovelorn. She mentally crossed Luke from her list.

What happened to all the raw, randy men built like cedar trees with big, beefy hands that were worn and tough like old shoe leather from working hard since the day they were big enough to swing an ax or cast a line? Too bad the AnnaMarie wasn’t in port this month. The AnnaMarie’s captain was always down for some unattached wild times.

Well, maybe getting laid wasn’t on the agenda tonight but getting stone-cold drunk certainly was. She turned to Russ with a morose sigh. “And it just keeps getting better and better,” she murmured in frustration. “Another round and stop skimping on the tequila.”

“You’ve got that look in your eye, kid,” Russ said with knowing. “Maybe you ought to just go home and watch television.”

“I don’t have a television,” Miranda said, motioning for her fourth round, which Russ plainly ignored. She made a face. The last thing she needed was Russ passing judgment on her choices. She had her mother for that. “Come on. Are we going to play that game? I’m no kid and I’ve earned the right to get snot-faced drunk if I please.”

“Go home,” Russ said, bracketing the bar on either side of her.

“Are you saying my money’s no good here? Last I heard you needed the cash. Am I wrong?”

“You’re as stubborn as your old man and just as mean,” Russ said, setting up her drink. “Why do you do this to yourself, girl? It ain’t gonna bring her back, and before you start spouting off about some desk job you’re plainly not suited for, there ain’t a person in Homer who don’t know why you drown yourself in booze every year on this night. Ain’t it time to start a new tradition?”

Miranda stilled, the subtle tilt of her lips freezing as her heart rate stumbled beneath the shelter of her breastbone. “Not allowed, Russ,” she warned him quietly. “Not allowed.” Today was the anniversary of her sister’s death. And no one was allowed to bring up Simone’s name. Not today. This, Miranda thought as she stared at the refilled shot glass, was how she chose to cope with Simone’s death and no one was going to convince her otherwise.

What did they know anyway? They didn’t know of the bone-crushing guilt that Miranda carried every day or the pain of regret and loss that dogged her nights and chased her days. And they certainly didn’t know of the recrimination Miranda saw in her mother’s eyes for a falling-out over a damn sweater that had kept Miranda from picking up her sister that night in a fit of pissed-off ire. Nobody knew. Nobody understood. And that was just fine. Miranda wasn’t inviting anyone in to take a look and offer their opinion.

Russ heaved a sigh and shook his head. “One of these days you’re going to realize this isn’t helping.”

“Maybe. But not today,” she muttered as she tossed the shot down her throat, her vision swimming nicely as the alcohol began to do its job. The sudden blast of arctic air chilled the closed-in heat of The Anchor, chasing away the stale smell of fish, beer and good times, and Miranda gave a cursory glance at who had walked through the front door.

And suddenly her mood took a turn for the better.

Hello, stranger. A smile settled on her mouth as she appraised the newcomer. The liquor coursing through her system unhindered by anything resembling food made her feel loose and wild, and that broad-shouldered specimen shaking off the snow from his jacket and stamping his booted feet was going to serve her needs perfectly.

“Hey, Russ...who’s he?” she asked.

Russ glanced up but shrugged after a speculative look-see. “Never seen him before. Looks too soft to be a fisherman. By the looks of him, probably a tourist who got lost on his way to Anchorage.”

A tourist? Here today, gone tomorrow. “He’ll do,” she murmured.

* * *

JEREMIAH BURKE ENTERED the raucous din of The Rusty Anchor, practically the only place in Homer, Alaska, to get a drink at this hour, and headed straight for the bar. He was well and truly screwed and looking at spending the night stuffed inside a storage closet if he was lucky, and his mood wasn’t what one would call warm and fuzzy.

Maybe if he drank enough he’d forget the fact that his hotel had somehow given away his room for the night and none of the other hotels had any vacancies. His options were slim seeing as he didn’t know a soul in his new zip code and he was looking at bedding down at his new office, on the old, lumpy couch that looked as if it’d been salvaged from a trash heap after spending a few nights in the elements. Hell, he’d been tempted to try his luck in his rental truck after taking one look at the couch. No telling what vermin had made their residence in its old springs.

He sidled up to the bar and signaled for the bartender.

“What’s your poison?” the man asked.

“Whatever’s on tap,” he answered just as his gaze found the leggy brunette regarding him with open interest. Talk about bold. He couldn’t say he wasn’t flattered but he was surprised to feel equal interest spark to life. “Would you be offended if I said you looked out of place in this bar?” he said, accepting his beer from the bartender.

“Depends on why you’re saying it,” she countered, swiveling around to give him a full measured stare, a slight smile playing on her lips. “Tread carefully. I was born in this town.”

He chuckled, enjoying the husky timbre of her voice. “And by making that statement, I just cemented your assumption that I’m not from around here, right?”

She laughed, her green eyes lighting with amusement. “Honey, I knew that before you opened your mouth but I won’t hold it against you.”

“Thanks. I’d hate to think I’ve already made a bad impression.”

At first glance, she had indeed appeared out of place in the rough bar with her long hair tucked into a ponytail and a warm woolen scarf wrapped loosely around her neck, but upon a closer look he realized that beyond that pretty face was a woman who could probably take care of herself. There was something hard as glacial ice about her even though her curves were soft. Her tight jeans left nothing to the imagination, something his own mind immediately jumped on with all kinds of scenarios, but it was her eyes that knocked him back for a second.

Green as summer moss with flecks of brown that reminded him of a Wyoming meadow in the spring, her eyes were framed by long, black lashes that dusted her cheekbones, and he had to remember not to stare. Hell, she was gorgeous.

“Careful—you keep staring like that I might get the wrong impression about you,” she teased.

“And what impression would that be?” He didn’t know how to play this game anymore and he’d never been particularly good at it in the first place. He was already out of his element—new place, new job—why not chat up the prettiest woman in the bar and see where it took him?

She responded with another throaty laugh and his groin tightened, warming in places he’d nearly forgotten about in the past year, but she switched gears, saying, “So, I’m guessing you’re not a fisherman.... What brings you to Homer of all places?”

Jeremiah hesitated, not quite sure how much he wanted to share about his personal life. He smiled, going for a variation of the truth. “A change in scenery,” he answered, taking a swig of his beer. “What about you? What’s kept you in Homer?”

Her smile faltered the tiniest bit but she recovered within a blink, returning to her previously bold assessment of him without being the least bit coy. “Are you married?” she asked. He lifted his left hand, showing her his ringless finger, and she scoffed. “That doesn’t mean anything. Half the men in this town don’t wear rings—that doesn’t mean someone isn’t waiting for them to come home at night.”

“No one is waiting for me,” he said. No one at all. He shook off the pull of sad memories and focused on the woman smiling at him. “And how about you? Beautiful woman in a small town? I find it hard to believe someone hasn’t laid claim to you already.”

“I don’t like to be tied down...unless I’m the one in charge of the rope.”

Another flush of arousal heated his groin at her suggestive answer and he nearly choked on his beer. He’d always found couples who claimed they’d felt an instant chemistry with one another to be exaggerating. How could you be instantly, insanely attracted to someone you’d only just met? Seemed the stuff of fairy tales and rom-com movies that he usually avoided, and yet, his blood was moving at a fine clip with just one look from this beautiful stranger. How did a woman like her get stuck in a fishing village like Homer without getting snagged by a local? He tipped his beer back, intrigued. “So, what’s your name?” he asked.

“Where are you from?” she countered.

“Wyoming.” He grinned. “Your turn. Name?”

Her smile deepened and she leaned forward far enough for him to get a nice whiff of her perfume. “Are names really necessary?” she asked. “Here’s the thing.... I think you’re pretty easy on the eyes and I’m ready to get out of here. Catch my drift?”

“Are you asking me to go home with you?”

“I am.” She swigged her beer like a woman who was used to playing poker with the guys and taking all their cash at the end of the night. There was something about her that pulsed like a live wire—dangerous and hot.

And he wanted to feel the burn. Desperately.

“No names. No personal details. Should I be worried?”

“You should be very worried,” she said with a mock-solemn nod that only served to make his heart rate triple. “Didn’t your mama ever warn you not to pick up strange women in bars?”

“She might’ve missed that one,” he said, sliding his tongue along his bottom lip, mimicking her own subconscious gesture. He knew a little about human nature. He’d taken a course in college on body language when he’d been considering a career in law enforcement. He hadn’t become a cop but he’d found the course had been beneficial nonetheless. And right now, she was throwing off major “come and get me” signals from the way she was angling her hips toward his and the tiny dart of her tongue along the seam of her lips, teasing him with the slow, wet slide, practically sending out a gilded invitation to throw her down on the dirty floor. It was hard to remember that he wasn’t a randy college kid but a grown man with responsibilities, especially when he was looking at ending a yearlong celibate streak.

“My place is just around the corner,” she said, reading his mind. “Interested?”

He wanted to shout hell yes but a sliver of reserve had him counter, “Not that I’m not interested but how about you? Didn’t your father ever warn you about taking off with strange men from bars? I could be a pervert or a serial killer.”

She slid from her barstool and graced him with a dazzling smile that was just a bit menacing as she said, “My daddy taught me to shoot a gun, gut a fish and break a kneecap if need be. Strange men in bars don’t scare me.” She slung her pack onto her back and headed for the door. She graced him with a single questioning look, then kept walking. The message was clear: come or stay, it doesn’t matter to me.

He grinned ruefully and tossed a few bucks on the scarred wooden bar. Either he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life or he was going to have a heart attack from the wildest night of sex ever imagined.

He hoped it was the latter.

At least he’d die happy.

And he didn’t have to worry about where he was going to spend the night.

Things were looking up already.

Perhaps this gig in Homer was going to work out just fine.

CHAPTER TWO

MIRANDA FELL BACK on the bed, winded and sated, sweat dampening her hairline as her chest rose and fell with the same harsh breaths as her temporary lover. She was thankful he wasn’t a chatterbox—she just wanted to enjoy the blissful nothing, the wonderful blankness of her mind that was the aftereffect of a damn good romp in the sack. And oh, yes, it’d been good. Better than good, in fact.

A satisfied sigh rattled from her chest as the sweat drying in the chill air caused goose bumps to pop along her skin. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and padded silently through the darkened room to the restroom, where she slipped a robe over her nude body and made her way to the kitchen for water.

As she guzzled her glass, she leaned against the old fridge, listening as it clunked and hummed its way through the night as it always did. The wind whistled through the trees outside, whispering of the coming storm, promising a deluge with the season’s first snow. Her body hummed and tingled, even protesting with a show of soreness as muscles that hadn’t been put to use for a while reminded her that they were still there. But it was a good feeling, even if she had to suffer through the awkward conversation later. Perhaps with some luck he’d already crashed out. A smile curved her lips. The man had stamina, that was for sure. Gotta give credit where credit was due. Unwelcome, her mother’s voice in her head crashed her buzz and stomped her good feelings.

When you going to stop whoring around and settle down like a normal girl? Don’t you think your son needs a man around? It’s bad enough you chose to shack up with a criminal just to prove a point.

Jennelle Sinclair’s strident tone had dripped with disapproval and disgust, leaving no room for confusion as to where she stood on her remaining daughter’s choices. But that was nothing new. If disapproving of Miranda’s choices were an Olympic sport, Jennelle would win the gold.

Miranda closed her eyes and pushed away her mother’s recriminations just as she always did when they came back to jeer at her. Tonight would have been difficult no matter how many men she lost herself in or how many drinks she downed.

All because of one damn sweater. Hard to believe given her current penchant for wash-and-wear convenience that there’d ever been a time when she’d cared about something as frivolous as a cashmere sweater.

Miranda couldn’t even remember what it looked like any longer, which was a surprise given that it had ruined so many lives.

Simone and her flighty sense of responsibility, her ability to laugh off anything that didn’t adhere to her sense of fun and fancy... Miranda’s chest trembled with the repression of a sob that felt trapped behind her ribs. “Damn you, Simone,” she murmured, adding with a shake of her head, “Damn that sweater.”

Would there ever come a time when she didn’t obsess on the past? If the fact that she was standing in her darkened kitchen at midnight, rehydrating after a night of alcohol and one-nighter sex was any indication, the answer was distressingly obvious. She blew out a short breath as an ironic chuckle chased her thoughts, and she returned to the bedroom with quiet steps.

“Is that for me?” a deep male voice asked from the darkness. The only source of light, a pale sliver of moonlight shining through the partially parted window drapes, illuminated his profile and glanced off a powerfully built shoulder. She allowed her stare to linger over, savor even, the view and then handed him the water glass with a shrug. He downed it with a good swallow and returned the glass. “Thanks,” he said, his voice warm with a smile that she couldn’t exactly see but she could imagine. “You really know how to make a man work for his reward. I like that in a woman.”

“Yeah, well, right back at you. I value a man with a strong work ethic,” she said, placing the glass in the bathroom before shucking her robe and returning to bed. She slid between the covers and made a show of giving him her backside to communicate that she was ready for some shut-eye rather than small talk but it seemed he wasn’t quite ready to sleep. A strong arm hooked itself around the front of her stomach and pulled her against him, his nose nuzzling the back of her neck. Her first reaction was irritation and she let him know it as she flipped around to stare up at him as he positioned himself above her. “Listen, fun times are fun times but I have to work in the morning, so unless you want to find yourself sleeping on my old sofa, I suggest you settle down and keep your paws to yourself. Got it?”

He surprised her with a sexy laugh that set off a trip wire of crazy shivers shaking down her spine and she had to fight to remember that she was ready for sleep. “Going by first impressions, I didn’t take you for such a lightweight,” he teased, moving to caress her neck with the soft touch of his lips traveling across her skin. “A one-and-done kind of woman.”

Lightweight? “I am no lightweight,” she said, indignant. “I could wear you out in a heartbeat and ruin you for other women.”

“Strong words.” His tone was faintly disbelieving, but before she could offer an argument, he took away her ability to remember why she was irritated in the first place. His tongue delved deep in her mouth, tangling with hers, sliding in and out in a practiced move that kindled a fire as surely as a spark ignited dry tinder. Within moments she was gasping against his mouth, lost to the wonder of this beautiful, talented stranger as he coaxed pleasure from her body in ways that she never imagined possible. For the first time, she was the one left gasping and babbling, as every muscle tightened in a wonderful chorus of mind-bending sensations. By the time she crashed back to earth, she was wrung out like a washcloth after a sinkful of dishes.

A satisfied sigh sounded from her left and she smiled at the irony that she may have found her sexual match in a man she was destined to never see again by morning. Ah well, that was life, she supposed. She couldn’t help the welcome drag on her eyelids as every ounce of her strength fled in the warm wake of her extreme sexual satisfaction. She didn’t even protest when he pulled her close, manhandling her in a way that she never allowed, much less enjoyed, but somehow, when done by this man...it was okay. Actually, it was more than okay; it was sublime.

* * *

SLEEP DIDN’T FIND Jeremiah as quickly as it did his gently snoring partner but he wasn’t complaining. There were worse things than to be cuddled up to a beautiful naked woman on a frigid cold night. But his mind was moving in dizzying circles even as his body was heavy with sated pleasure. The tension that continually corded his shoulders and kinked his neck—no matter how many times his chiropractor back in Wyoming had tried to pull it out—was gone, and for that, he was inordinately happy.

However, no matter how sated his body, his mind refused to give up the images he was doing his best to run away from. Maybe he should’ve picked a tropical climate instead of a place where it snowed like it did in Wyoming, only ten times heavier.

Tyler had loved the snow; the kid had been fearless on his snowboard. The memory of his eleven-year-old son shredding the slopes elicited a brief smile that faded almost as quickly as it came. Fearless...maybe that had been the problem.

Maybe if he’d cautioned Tyler to be less fearless, the boy wouldn’t have been crushed beneath his ATV in a rollover that had happened faster than a rattlesnake strike. Maybe. Maybe. God, he hated that word.

Shake it off, Jeremiah. Nothing you say or think is going to bring him back. His own counsel always sounded so pathetic in his head whenever he tried to pull himself from that ledge of depression and grief. It’d been a year since Tyler died. Eight months since his wife had left him. Seven months since he’d been served divorce papers. A lot could happen in a year.

The woman in his arms stirred and curled her arm around his stomach, pulling him closer as she buried her nose against the side of his chest. She fit against him as if she were made to.

He touched her hair lightly, enjoying the texture of the dark strands against the pads of his fingers. He didn’t know how a woman like her wasn’t attached, but for selfish reasons, he was glad. He couldn’t imagine a better person to break the seal on his self-imposed celibacy than a hot stranger who wanted nothing more than a dirty, sweaty good time.

He sighed and allowed his eyelids to slowly shut. He was here in Homer for a fresh start with a new job. Tomorrow, he’d put a clean brush of paint on the old and battered walls of his life.

But tonight...he was going to just enjoy the simple pleasure of the feel of a woman’s body pressed against his and sleep.

* * *

MIRANDA NEVER SLEPT in on a workday and she was never late.

Except today.

She opened her eyes blearily to find the pale watery light of the morning filtering into her bedroom and for a moment she was disoriented by her surroundings. What the...?

“What time is it?” she muttered, her mouth tasting like the bottom of a dirty boot. Why had she drunk so many tequila poppers last night? Major mistake. Her head was splitting. With all the sharpness of a dull ax blade, Miranda pulled the memory of last night from her mental cache and glanced around in surprise to realize that her temporary lover had done her a solid by letting himself out before she woke.

And he’d even left her a note. She grabbed the folded paper and focused on the masculine scrawl.

Homer has one hell of a welcome party. Way better than a gift basket.

Miranda dropped the note to her nightstand and fought the growing disquiet churning her insides. On one hand, she ought to be happy that he’d saved them both from any awkward, stilted conversation exchanged in the harsh morning light, but on the other hand, it didn’t sit well with her ego that he’d been the one to simply slip out the door while she’d been dead to the world. However, the bigger issue was far more upsetting than a bruise to her ego. Her temporary lover wasn’t a tourist.

And by the sounds of it...he was taking up residence right here in Homer.

“I’ll be damned,” she said, barking a short, irritated laugh, and headed to the shower. The town was too small to hope they wouldn’t run into each other at the grocery store at some point, but Miranda wasn’t above hoping and praying Homer simply wasn’t to his liking and he would leave.

Why? Because there’d been a moment when lying in his arms had felt completely natural—almost as if she’d been waiting to find herself in those arms since the day she was born—and Miranda didn’t want any part of anything that resembled that.

Besides, she already had her plus one—her son.

And she sure as hell wasn’t auditioning anyone for the role of daddy anytime soon...if ever. Much to her mother’s chagrin, of course.

With a mild shudder at the very idea, she dropped any lingering thoughts about her overnight guest and, after double-checking with her son’s paternal grandmother that the older woman had gotten Talen to school on time this morning, Miranda rushed to shower away the night’s activities and get ready for work.

Today was a big deal, which made her oversleeping a major screwup and only added fuel to the argument that she hadn’t been ready for the position the new guy had managed to snag from beneath her nose. She wanted to look the new boss in the eye and see for herself if he was up to the job because there was no better tracker in the department than Miranda, aside from her brother Trace, of course. And no one knew the surrounding area better than Miranda.

Miranda pulled into the slushy parking lot, the crunch of dirt and thin layer of snow beneath her knobby tires a familiar and welcome sound, but as she walked up the stairs she couldn’t shake the feeling of disquiet that dogged her steps. Sour grapes and disappointment, that was all it was, she told herself.

Talen’s paternal grandmother, a Yupik Native, had always praised Miranda’s intuition, saying it was that inner knowing that helped her to navigate the dangerous Kenai Mountains when tracking the hapless lost. As Miranda pushed open the door to the Fish and Game Department field office to stride inside, it was then that she knew her intuition had been spot-on.

Oh, shit. She wanted to die. Or at the very least sink through the floor and disappear.

Standing there addressing the office, dressed sharp as a tack, looking fresh and starkly handsome, was her one-night stand—and apparently, her new boss.

Hell, she didn’t even know his name but she vividly remembered what he looked like naked in the pale moonlight.

Somehow, she didn’t think that information was going to be helpful.

Well, her mother had warned her that her bad behavior was going to catch up to her someday.

Guess today was the day. And it felt every bit as wretched as her mother had probably hoped that it would.

Yay me.

CHAPTER THREE

JEREMIAH ADDRESSED HIS new team, looking at faces that he would soon learn to know and personalities he would learn to understand, but part of him couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made the right choice as he stood before strangers, especially when he knew for a fact he was running away from a particular heartache.

He had no doubt he could do the job. It wasn’t that he was having a sudden attack of inadequacy fears, rather he knew he should have been a bit more adult about his decision to leave everything he knew in Wyoming to start fresh in a town where he knew no one and felt even more isolated than ever.

Wyoming had been good to him until it wasn’t, taking the one thing from him that he’d loved the most—his son.

The sound of the door opening and the wind whistling through the open doorway caused him to pause midsentence and turn.

It was then that any misgivings he’d had about taking the job coalesced into a big ball of certainty. It was her—of all the people who could’ve walked through that door in this little fishing town, why did it have to be her? He couldn’t believe his dumb luck—some might even say it was painfully ironic but he was in no mood to appreciate the wry humor—but there she was in all her glory, only this time...she was clothed and in a fish-and-game uniform.

He swallowed and hoped his shock wasn’t plainly evident to his entire team as he stared at the woman he’d buried himself in several times only twelve short hours ago.

And he didn’t even know her name. Hadn’t that been the stipulation she’d set? And he’d been only too happy to play along. Of all the stupid moves...

Their stares collided, a combination of dismayed surprise and horror, as both processed the reality of the situation. Yeah, talk about awkward. It was his first day, and he’d already slept with an employee. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t known; all that mattered was that now they had history and it was likely to become even more complicated, which was the worst way to kick off a fresh start.

“Everything all right, Miranda?” asked a woman named Mary Calhoun, who had introduced herself the minute he’d crossed the threshold. “We were starting to worry. Is Talen okay? Did he catch that flu bug that’s going around? It’s not like you to be late.”

Miranda. Her name was Miranda. And who was Talen? He rolled her name around in his mind. It fit her—strong, bold and every bit as fierce as he suspected her personality was. Damn, if she wasn’t as beautiful in the morning as she was in moonlight. Definitely not the way he wanted to start their professional relationship. There were too many images in his head of her naked in the throes of passion to shake free. How the hell was he supposed to act? He was on unprecedented ground and he hated it.

“I overslept,” she murmured, edging her way past him as she took her place among her peers. He didn’t miss how her gaze seemed to skitter around the room, content to rest on anything but his own gaze. Not that he blamed her—if he weren’t the boss he probably would have done an about-face the minute he realized who she was. But that wasn’t the case and they didn’t have that option. He was here to do a job—there was no turning back for him—and so he had to make the best of it, which meant dealing with the fact that he’d inadvertently slept with one of his employees. They were both adults, and they would just have to handle it like adults.

“My name is Jeremiah Burke, and I’m your new director. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He held his hand out for a cordial shake as if he hadn’t been holding her in his arms a mere four hours ago. She stared at his hand as if it were a snake that might bite her but, realizing that to refuse his polite gesture would raise unnecessary questions, she relented and offered her hand. As his hand closed around the warmth of her skin images of their time together immediately assaulted his brain.

He fixed a polite smile on his face even as his mind wreaked havoc on his ability to stay focused. There was no denying she was beautiful but it wasn’t as if she was the first beautiful woman he’d ever run across. There was something about her, though, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he’d already slept with her, that frankly messed with his ability to think straight. He refocused with effort. “I was just making introductions to the team when you came in. I’ll do a quick recap for you. I’m from Wyoming. I’m used to cold weather. I love the snow, although I’m not a huge fan of fish and that might be my undoing.”

“You just haven’t had fish properly prepared. Miranda, you ought to give him your smothered halibut and rice recipe,” Mary suggested. “If you weren’t a fan of fish before moving to Homer, you will be soon enough. We have more ways to cook a fish than you can shake a stick at. You’ll learn to love it.”

“I didn’t realize that Homer was such a big halibut outlet. As far as loving fish, I’ll just have to take that on faith because I’m probably the only guy in Wyoming who didn’t enjoy the sport.”

Miranda appeared stymied as he made small talk in the hopes of putting everyone at ease. He was relieved when she was appropriately cordial, even a little on the stiff side. “Welcome to Homer,” she said, meeting his gaze for the briefest of moments before quickly moving on.

The statement was appropriate to the situation but he couldn’t help but wonder if she was referencing his short little note that had been meant to be witty and tongue-in-cheek, which frankly made him want to clap his hand over his face for leaving a note in the first place.

“Miranda is the best tracker in the state,” Mary offered with pride, but Miranda seemed uncomfortable with the compliment and actually murmured something to the contrary to which the woman immediately disagreed. “Now, don’t let her tell you that she’s not. She’s going to tell you that her brother Trace is the best tracker, and don’t get me wrong, he is good, better than good. But Miranda has a gift and if I were lost in those mountains I’d want her looking for me.”

He lifted his brow at the praise and the way Miranda seemed discomfited by it and wondered what had happened in this woman’s life to make her the way she was. It was a mystery that he didn’t want to figure out but it pulled at him just the same. He pushed on. “Your previous director shared his admiration for Miranda’s skill. I’m pleased to have someone with such talent on my team.” And he left it at that. The previous director had also shared that Miranda was hardheaded, at times difficult, and downright ornery. One thing the previous director hadn’t mentioned was how mind-jarringly gorgeous she was. Stop going there. Was this going to be a problem? He refocused again. “I promise I’ll do my best to lead this team as well as your previous director. I know I have big shoes to fill. Or should I say snowshoes.” Gahhh...now he was just disintegrating into bad comedy because his brain had turned to mush. The polite chuckles that followed made him want to assure them that he wouldn’t be that guy who was always cracking jokes and trying to be the office card. But Miranda saved him by interjecting.

“Are we finished with the introductions...?” she asked. She was clearly impatient to get on with her day and he didn’t blame her. There was plenty of work to be done that had nothing to do with the awkwardness between them.

“Miranda, don’t be rude,” murmured her friend with a mildly worried tone. “There’s nothing wrong with getting to know our new director.”

Miranda’s face blanched and Jeremiah thought she might actually say something that would reveal their inappropriate encounter, but she recovered well and simply shrugged as if to say this is me—take it or leave it. He had to respect the way she was handling things and was happy to take his cue from her.

“No, she’s right. We all have plenty of work to do and I’m keeping you from it to blather on about my past when what’s really important is the future. I’ll trust you to get to your regular schedules and I will work to catch up. So for now I’m going to lock myself in my new office to try and get my bearings. We can reconvene at lunch. Sound like a plan?” There were murmurs of assent as everyone began to disperse, and Miranda wasted no time in disappearing. The fact that his stare wanted to follow wherever she went was troubling but he had bigger issues to deal with and that included establishing himself as the new director of the Homer Department of Fish and Game, above and apart from his personal dilemma. Work had always had the power of distracting him from whatever was happening in his life. This new complication would be no different.

* * *

MIRANDA WANTED TO PUKE. She’d never been so wretchedly embarrassed by an encounter with a one-night stand and that included the unfortunate nuisance of Luke Prather trailing her like a lovesick hound after their one night together. If her mother had been counting on karma to bite her in the ass for all of her past bad behavior it was coming to pass right at this moment. Miranda couldn’t disappear into her office fast enough but, of course, locking herself away to wallow in her misery wasn’t on the agenda. Mary, the office mate who had been singing her praises so embarrassingly to Jeremiah, was quick to follow.

“Girl, you are running like the devil is on your heels. What’s gotten into you?”

Miranda wiped the dot of sweat that beaded her brow as her adrenaline raced through her veins and wished she could get a do-over for the past twenty-four hours. She should’ve listened to Russ when he’d said to stop drinking. She should have chosen to stay home instead of dropping Talen off at his grandmother’s so she could drink herself stupid. She should have read a book, watched a movie, dug a ditch—anything that would have kept her from bedding her boss. But it wasn’t as if she could tell Mary that. It wasn’t as if she could tell anyone. In fact, the one person she could talk to about this was the one person she didn’t want to talk to about it. “I’m just not excited about meeting the person who took my job.” Well, that was half-true. She’d thought for sure the director position had been hers and it’d been a nasty surprise when she’d learned that she had, in fact, not been selected. “What do you think of him?”

Mary, a middle-aged woman who liked to consider herself hip and cool because she tweeted on her phone every five seconds like the teenagers did even though half the time she did it wrong, considered the question for a minute then nodded decisively. “I like him.”

“Why?” The question popped from Miranda’s mouth before she could stop it and Mary graced her with a quizzical expression for her sour reaction. Miranda tried to do some damage control. “I mean, how do you know that he’s good for the job? I can’t imagine anyone would do a better job than me. I know this place like the back of my hand, and that’s saying a lot considering how big Alaska is.” She was babbling, throwing out excuses for her odd behavior, but Mary didn’t seem to notice, which didn’t say much for her usual behavior. “I’m just saying, just because he’s nice on the eyes doesn’t mean he’s the right man for the job. You know what I mean?”

Mary frowned. “I think you should give him a chance. I know you’re disappointed that you didn’t get the job, and you would have been a great director, but the fact of the matter is, unless you want to start job hunting, you’d better start getting on board. You’re not going to make any points by cheesing off the new boss.”

Miranda fought to keep her expression from revealing the turmoil churning her brain but she felt off-kilter, which was something that rarely happened to her. If only Mary knew how many points she may have made between the sheets last night, not that those points could help her now. Crap. What a mess. Why couldn’t the new boss have been a troll? Someone more like their old boss. Virgil Eckhart had been a short, squat, balding man with a barrel chest and a fondness for cheap cigars that he only got the opportunity to smoke when he was ice fishing because his wife hated the smell. There was no way in hell Miranda would’ve ever wanted to sleep with him. Not even if it had meant a promotion. But then, Virgil had become something of a father figure when her own father simply checked out emotionally. She slowly refocused when she realized Mary was waiting for a response. “Don’t worry,” she said, trying to put Mary at ease. “I’ll make nice with the new boss.” Cringe. “I have no interest in job hunting anytime soon.”

Mary’s relief was evident in her wide smile. “Thank God. I was worried that you were going to be a bit of a pill with the new boss. I should have known you’d be mature about it. I’m sorry for not giving you the credit you deserve. Honestly, I don’t know what I was worried about now that I think about it. You’re not the hotheaded kid you used to be. You’re a mother, for crying out loud. Sheesh. Sometimes I embarrass myself. Jim is always telling me to stop being so dramatic.”

Miranda laughed, the sound hollow to her ears, yet Mary remained oblivious to her distress, thank heaven. “You worry too much, Mary. Now, don’t you have work to do?” she teased. “Go on, get out of here.”

Mary left the office and Miranda expelled an audible sigh. “Of all the rotten luck...”

Was karma kicking her in the ass for everything she’d been doing over the past years? It hardly seemed fair when karma had already kicked the shit out of their family.

Laughter rang in her memory, pulling her away from her present pickle and into a time before her sister had died.

“Your snowboarding skills are about as good as your cooking skills,” Wade had teased Simone as he slowed to a stop beside her with a laugh. She’d landed on her rear for the third time as she’d tried unsuccessfully to slow down properly and instead simply tumbled to her behind in a spray of snow.

“Stop laughing and help me up,” Simone grumbled, then wobbled and lost her balance, falling again. She slapped the snow and pouted. “I hate snowboarding. I want to go back to skis.”

Miranda pulled up alongside her baby sister as Wade and Trace followed on their boards. They’d all switched from skis to boards except Simone, and she was having a difficult time making the transition. “Don’t give up, Simone. We all fall when we’re learning. Are you going to be a quitter just because it’s hard?” she asked. “Give it a chance. Besides, if you don’t want to be left behind, you need to learn.”

“Come on, klutz,” Trace said as he and Wade helped Simone to her feet. “You got this. Try again. It’ll get easier.”

“It won’t. I suck at it.”

“It’s true. You kinda do,” Miranda agreed, earning a black look from her twelve-year-old sister as Simone wiped the snow from her snowsuit. “But,” Miranda added with a wink, “at least you look good doing it.”

At the small compliment, Simone broke out into a reluctant smile, which seemed to bolster her courage and firm her determination. “Okay. I’ll try one more time but that’s it.” She sighed and looked to Trace and Wade. “Show me again how to stop....”

But Simone wasn’t a quitter in spite of her complaints, and after plenty of ribbing, lots of laughter and more than a few tumbles, Simone finally caught on. After that the Sinclair family had been unstoppable on the slopes. In fact, in time, snowboarding had become Simone and Miranda’s favorite pastime together.

Miranda smiled as she remembered their times at Olson Mountain as teens. Miranda had been eighteen and getting ready to leave for college while Simone had been a know-it-all fifteen-year-old who’d been prettier than any young teen ought to be.

“If you did something more with your hair than just throwing it up in a ponytail, you’d probably get more dates,” Simone had advised as they rode the tow rope up the mountain. Miranda cast her young sister a derisive look and Simone laughed. “No, I’m serious. You’re so pretty but no one would ever know because you’re always acting like a boy. Try a little mascara once in a while, you know?”

“I don’t have any problem getting dates.”

“Okay, well, how about a boyfriend?”

“I don’t need a boyfriend right before I leave for college.”

“Good point,” she said as if she hadn’t thought of it from that angle. “Don’t want to be tied down. College is filled with yummy college boys.”

“Ugh, kid. You’re too boy crazy. Focus on school. Have you thought of what you want to do with the rest of your life?”

“Miranda, live a little, please. Right now I’m focused on my next dance recital and my cheer competition in Anchorage. Anything above and beyond that is way past my interest level.”

“You mean that and your unusual interest in my love life,” Miranda quipped.

“Well, what are big sisters for if not for introducing their hot college friends to their cute little sisters?”

Miranda laughed. “Glad to know I’m good for something.”

Simone smiled brightly and it was hard not to love the kid to distraction. She just had a way about her that was plainly adorable. Simone had been born with magic in her veins.

Miranda closed her eyes, waiting out the echo of grief that followed the memories, until she could safely open her eyes without tears.

How would their lives have been different if Simone had lived?

She supposed it was human nature to wonder, to travel down a road that she knew was a dead end, but when she found herself walking that path most times she became irritated. Simone had died. End of story.

The minute she’d successfully shut down thoughts of her sister, a different sort of unwelcome thought crashed into her mind that was equally irritating but hard to ignore.

If the situation were different, and Miranda had met Jeremiah under completely different circumstances, maybe... No, don’t go there. That’s not how we met. That’s not our story. Stop trying to rewrite the ending.

But even as she stamped down any flicker of wistfulness, there was a part of her that refused to let it go. There was a moment last night when wrapped in his arms she’d felt at home, relaxed. Of course, this was completely at odds with how she usually felt after spending an evening with a man. What a fantasy.

She’d come to the realization that whatever essential component was required for a long-lasting monogamous relationship was utterly broken inside of her. If she were being petty, she would blame that on Talen’s father, but that was being weak. Fact of the matter was, even though Johnny hadn’t known the meaning of the word monogamous, she hadn’t been blind to that from the beginning. Hadn’t expected it, either. So when word came back to her that he’d been messing around, she hadn’t been surprised when she felt nothing for the betrayal. Inside Miranda’s chest where her heart should have been was a lump of ice that, apart from her love for her son, was deeper and colder than the oldest glacier. And every man who’d had the misfortune of mistakenly trusting her with his heart and feelings had left the relationship soured and disillusioned. Miranda just wasn’t the type to settle down and play house.

And a part of her hated that about herself. But if there was one thing she knew, it was that you couldn’t run from whom you truly were and so she didn’t even try.

One hidden blessing in all this mess was that she wouldn’t have to worry about Jeremiah mooning over her, hoping for a relationship out of their torrid encounter. He looked just as ready as she to completely forget last night.

And Miranda was more than willing to play along. As far as she was concerned, they never happened.

CHAPTER FOUR

JEREMIAH SURVEYED HIS new office, taking time to note small details. He didn’t much care that it wasn’t fancy or the epitome of a corner office—he’d never been one to put much value on those sorts of things—but he did appreciate his own personal coffeepot in the office. He went to the machine and attempted to make a fresh pot of coffee but found himself stymied when he plugged it in and no signs of life happened. He was so busy trying to make the coffeepot work he didn’t realize someone had entered his office.

“It doesn’t work,” Miranda said. “Virgil never drank coffee.”

Jeremiah straightened. “So if it doesn’t work, and he never drank coffee, why is there a coffeepot in here?”

“Because it was a gift from a relative who didn’t know Virgil hated coffee. And because Virgil was such a good guy, he could never bring himself to get rid of it.”

“Oh.” Were they really going to have this stilted conversation over a coffeepot? He supposed they had to have a normal conversation sometime but the conversation they were having hardly seemed a good start. “Miranda...about last night...”

Miranda waved away his attempt. “I didn’t come in here to talk about that. In fact, I’d be really happy if we never talked about that night ever again. I don’t need my coworkers to know what a colossal mistake I made on this grand of a scale. I came in to talk to you as an employee.”

Jeremiah considered her request. He could understand the urge to ignore the intimate details between them. However, he found it impossible to forget the memories that were seared into his brain and he wasn’t so naive as to believe that time would dull their clarity. “As much as your solution to our problem would be the easy way out, I’m not that kind of man. We need to talk about what happened between us. We both acknowledge that we made a mistake. And we need to be adult about it and move on. And I agree—the information should not leave this room.”

“Permission to speak freely?”

“Of course.”

“Listen, you’re new here and so you don’t know everyone’s back stories, their personal little tragedies or idiosyncrasies, so I’m going to do you a solid and let you in on mine. I’m not a girl who snuggles. I’m not looking for a man to save or protect me. I take my fun where I can find it and I don’t apologize for it. You came along at the right time and fulfilled a need. I’m sorry if that sounds crass or unladylike or vulgar, but the bottom line is I had an itch and you were there to scratch it. I do my job well and, contrary to what the admins thought, I would’ve been a hell of a director. So, what I came in here to say is what I would’ve said regardless. This is my town and I care about the people who live here. I will hold you to a higher standard and just because you’re the boss doesn’t mean that I won’t tell you exactly how I feel about any given topic regarding my people.”

Jeremiah absorbed her statement. On one hand, he could appreciate her stark honesty. On the other hand, he could tell why she hadn’t been selected as the director. The administrator didn’t have the luxury of saying whatever he or she felt or believed at any given moment. Tact, patience, knowing when to keep your mouth shut were valuable assets that Miranda apparently didn’t value. “I’ve read your file. I know you’re a damn fine tracker. I know you come from this town. Though what I don’t know is why you have a reckless streak and a dangerous problem with authority.”

Miranda’s mouth tightened, clearly irritated by the information that’d been shared with him. “Who said I was reckless?”

Jeremiah shook his head, not interested in playing a “he said, she said” game. “Not important. What is important is the intel. The fact that you grabbed a stranger off the street to have sex, without knowing a thing about me, proves the information valid.”

“Are you judging me?” Miranda’s eyes flashed, revealing a hot temper. “What kind of man goes home with the first woman he lays eyes on in a strange town?”

“A man ending a long self-imposed celibacy with a beautiful woman who openly propositioned him.” He shifted, mildly irritated at being drawn into a fight. His point was rapidly becoming lost. “Miranda, if you don’t want to tell me your reasons, then don’t. But I would advise you not to pick a fight with your superior on the first day.”

His advice seemed to hit home. Miranda looked away, and he could tell she was mentally biting her tongue. Perhaps something she wasn’t used to doing. “Duly noted.” She drew a deep breath and retrained her focus. “In addition to being the best tracker in the area, aside from my brother Trace, I’m in charge of keeping on top of the poachers in the area. If you’d like I can send you a couple of the files I’ve been working on.”

“That would be appreciated.” His mind should’ve been on business, but there was something about her that made it difficult to stay focused. He wanted to know what compelled her to pick up strange men. He wanted to know how many men there had been before him. All manner of questions that he had no business thinking or wondering. “Poachers are everywhere. Same scum, different day. You say you’ve been keeping track of a few? Anyone else on this?”

“No, it’s sort of my baby. My passion, if you will.”

“Send me some of your files and I’ll give them a read. I can’t promise I’ll get to them today but I will definitely try to look over the data by the end of the week.”

She accepted his answer. “Good. I look forward to your thoughts. Welcome to the team.”

Miranda didn’t waste any time with chitchat or idle conversation. She blew out as quickly as she blew in. Jeremiah wondered just how complicated his relationship was going to be with the woman. He’d give anything to forget that last night had ever happened. But he’d long given up wishing that he could change the past. His intimate connection with Miranda Sinclair was just one more thing he would learn to deal with.

* * *

MIRANDA SAT HEAVILY in her chair and realized her hands were shaking. Damn, why couldn’t she just push him from her mind like every other man? She talked a good game, but everything was too fresh, the memories too vivid to simply move on as if it’d simply been another encounter. As if the sex had been mediocre. That probably would have made things a lot easier. A crappy one-and-done certainly didn’t compel a girl to chase after another round.

But that wasn’t the case. He’d certainly known his way around a woman’s body. He had skill. Which, of course, begged the question, why was he single? Not that she cared. But she was naturally curious. She sensed a bigger back story behind those soulful eyes. Don’t dig. She shouldn’t care what his story was.

She placed her fingers behind her head and leaned back in her chair. Maybe she needed some target practice. The familiar weight of a gun in her hand always seemed to soothe the ragged nerves. She liked to imagine she was putting that laser sight right between the eyes of the bastard who’d killed her sister. Of course, she didn’t know who that person was because Simone’s killer had never been found. So in her imagination there was always a blank face staring back at her.

The phone rang, interrupting her dark thoughts, and she picked up the receiver almost gratefully. That was until she heard her mother’s voice on the other end.

“What is wrong with you?”

“That’s a loaded question, don’t you think?” Miranda answered with just enough sarcasm to really piss her mom off. “What’s the problem?”

“Don’t play innocent with me. I know it was you who called that lady. Now I’ve got these strangers in my business.”

Miranda withheld the sigh. The organizer must have paid her mother a visit. “Mom, you need help. I thought Paula could help you get things started.” She took a deep breath, fighting the urge to slam the receiver down in her mother’s ears. “No reason to get all pissy about it.”

“Watch your mouth. And I don’t appreciate you sending nosy people into my house to tell me how I should live. And your father isn’t happy about it, either,” her mother added for emphasis. “You’re scaring away business.”

Miranda felt a flare of familiar anger bubble up in her chest. “What business? Are you talking about the nonexistent business he makes from his carvings? Or his thriving pot business?”

“You know damn well your father only uses marijuana for medicinal purposes. Stop making him sound like a criminal.”

“Mom, you know he sells his pot for money. That is illegal. And I’m not having this conversation with you. Particularly while I’m at work. In case you’ve forgotten I work for a federal agency.”

“I never asked for your help. I don’t need an organizer. And I wish you’d stop foisting your ideas onto me.”

“Fine, Mom. I was just trying to help.”

Her mother, slightly mollified by the muttered apology, moved on to a different subject that was equally controversial in their family. “I don’t like Talen spending so much time with that woman.”

And by that woman, her mother was referencing Talen’s paternal grandmother, Ocalena. “You should take your own advice and stop poking your nose into business that isn’t yours. Talen loves his grandmother and she’s a good woman. You need to stop ripping on her.”

Her mother sniffed, “Well, we all have our opinions now, don’t we? Forgive me if I am uncomfortable with my only grandson spending so much time with a loony Indian. It can’t be healthy that she fills his head with all sorts of stories about that father of his.”

Ah, the familiar argument about Talen’s father. One of her mother’s favorite topics. “There’s no need to pound it into my head how much you hated Johnny. I am well aware of your feelings. However, Johnny was Talen’s father for better or worse. Now drop it.”

“When it’s a subject you don’t want to talk about, you’re happy to shut me down. When it’s a subject I don’t want to talk about, you needle me into the ground. Miranda, you’ve become a raging hypocrite as you become older.”

And you’ve become an even bigger pain in my ass than you ever were. “Was there something you needed to talk to me about?”

“Yes, actually there was. Aside from that horrid little woman intruding on our personal space, I needed to tell you that I heard gunshots on the back forty. I want you to check it out.”

Poaching of Alaska’s resources was a major problem for the state, and the fact that her parents lived on a very large parcel of land that backed up to the Kenai Mountains made their property a popular trespassing point. “I’ll take a look. Did you call Trace?”

“Of course. He’s unavailable.”

Miranda tried not to take offense. The fact that she was her parent’s second choice never felt warm and fuzzy. But she supposed that was something she ought to be used to by now.

“Have you met your new boss yet?” her mother asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Yes.” Miranda didn’t add details. “Why?”

“Because I know how you’d set your heart on getting that job. However, don’t do anything that will put you out of a job. Good jobs don’t just fall out of the sky.”

Was her mother giving her advice? Surely, that was the sign of the apocalypse. “And what, pray tell, could I possibly do that would put me out of a job?” Aside from sleep with the new boss?

“You’re like an old bear with something caught in its paw. You know how you get when things don’t go your way. I just don’t want you to do something stupid.”

Something stupid? Such as pick a fight with her baby sister over a sweater that ended up getting her killed and destroying the family? Miranda would try to refrain from making such an epic mistake again. “Your concern is touching, Mom. But I think I’ve got it handled. You know, would it kill you to acknowledge that I’m not the same reckless kid I used to be?”

“Miranda, I would go to my grave with a smile on my face if I thought you could change. I pray for my grandson that he won’t be scarred by your parenting skills.”

“Excuse me? What are you talking about?”

“I know why you let that Indian woman take care of my grandson...because you were out trashing the Sinclair name with your loose ways. Don’t think that you’re not the topic of every whispered conversation, because you are. I can only hope that you’ve run out of men to sleep with by now.”

“Just because I like to have a good time doesn’t make me irresponsible in every other way,” she said, hurt by her mother’s censure, though why she cared, Miranda didn’t know. “If you can’t tell how I’ve changed, then you never paid much attention in the first place.”

“See it how you will. Doesn’t change the facts. Good girls don’t take home the first man they lay eyes on and that’s a fact. What kind of example are you setting for Talen? No father, no man around to teach him how to do all the things a boy should know...”

“Such as?” she demanded to know. “I can hunt, shoot, trap, track... What exactly is a man going to teach my boy that I can’t?”

“I’m not going to argue the point. I’ve said my piece and I’ll leave it at that.”

“Well, thanks for sharing,” Miranda said. God, help me now and end this conversation. “I have to go. Was there anything else that you needed?” Like the knife stuck in my back?

Miranda could sense her mother’s irritation at her abrupt end of the conversation. Jennelle Sinclair loved having the last word. “I see there’s no sense in talking to you when you’re going to act like that. Don’t forget to look into those poachers above the property line.”

The line went dead and Miranda shook her head. Unbelievable woman. Weren’t people supposed to mellow out with age? Apparently, her mother hadn’t received that memo. She’d like to say they were close at one time, but that would not be true. Jennelle had reserved all of her happiness, her pride and her ambition for her youngest daughter, Simone.

Miranda had simply been the one in Jennelle’s way. At least that was the way it’d always felt. If it hadn’t been for her dad, teaching her how to track along with her brothers, her childhood would have been depressingly bleak.

At Miranda’s lowest point following Simone’s death, she’d often believed her mother would have been happy if Miranda had been the one found dead on that mountain rather than her beloved Simone.

And frankly, there were times that fear remained.

CHAPTER FIVE

HE HAD PLANNED to wait a few days but Jeremiah ended up spending some time looking over the poaching reports that Miranda had prepared. The reports were thorough and showed a commendable attention to detail. Even if Miranda hadn’t told him that catching poachers was a passion of hers, he would’ve been able to tell by the nature of her reports. A wry smile lifted his lips. Miranda was a passionate woman, apparently in all things. He wished their relationship hadn’t been contaminated by their one-night stand. He suspected they could have become strong allies, maybe even friends. Now their relationship would forever be tainted by what they’d shared intimately.

And about that...what he wouldn’t give to get the memories out of his head. It wasn’t that the memories weren’t enjoyable; no, quite the opposite. The memory of last night made him yearn for more. And that was absolutely not happening. Maybe, with a fresh start, it was time to start dating again. After his son had died and his wife divorced him, the usual appetites for companionship simply died. Ending his celibacy with someone like Miranda had certainly left its mark. Literally. Jeremiah shifted as the pull of Miranda’s scratch marks on his back caused him to wince.

He rubbed the grit from his eyes and finally shut down his computer. Everyone had long since gone home but he’d stayed behind to further acclimate himself to the new surroundings. He didn’t want to seem like that guy who simply punched the clock and didn’t care about the job. Back in Wyoming, he’d been accused of being a workaholic. He couldn’t deny that charge. That’d been one of the many hatchets his ex-wife had flung at him, screaming that he hadn’t been around for their son so he shouldn’t grieve for him. That’d been a low blow. Maybe that was why he’d been so ready for a fresh start. He couldn’t stomach the memories—both good and bad—that he was leaving behind.

He closed his eyes as one particular memory eclipsed his ability to hold it back.

“How dare you cry for him! It’s your fault he’s dead.” His ex-wife, Josie, stared at him with red-rimmed eyes brimming with hatred. “I told you he was too young for an ATV. But you went out and got him one anyway.”

“That’s a new low, even for you, Josie. For you to insinuate that it was my fault...you’re lucky you’re a woman. If a man had dared to say that to me I’d knock his teeth down his throat.”

But Josie was wild in her grief and in her belief that Jeremiah had caused the death of their son. “There’s nothing that you could do to me that would rival the pain I’m suffering right now. Go ahead and do your worst. He was only eleven, Jeremiah! What kind of idiot allows an eleven-year-old to drive an ATV? It’s not even legal!”

“I made a mistake,” he admitted, feeling sick in his gut. But Tyler had pleaded with him, using the excuse that nearly all his friends had been riding around on ATVs since they were nine. It had seemed a small thing to allow since he’d only be using the ATV on their property and most of their land was fairly gentle terrainwise. But he should’ve stuck to his guns and turned the boy down. “I’d do anything to take it back. You know that, right?”

But Josie simply stared, as if it were possible that he’d deliberately made a choice that he knew was going to hurt their son. That was worse than ludicrous; it was downright repugnant.

“What does it matter? He’s dead,” she retorted dully, refusing to look at him, as if the very sight of him made her want to retch. Well-meaning folks had warned them that the death of a child could rip apart a marriage and they’d need to support one another to get through the crisis. Jeremiah was fairly certain Josie wouldn’t throw a glass of water on him if he were on fire. So much for supporting one another through the storm.

Jeremiah stared at the woman he had thought was the love of his life, the mother of his children, and wondered why he’d never noticed the cruel streak that ran through her like a river. “I think we need a break,” Jeremiah said, attempting to slow the runaway train of their marriage. “I can get a hotel room for a few days.”

Josie sniffed and wiped the remnants of her tears from her cheeks. “Don’t bother,” she said, her voice hardening. “I’m leaving you.”

On some level Jeremiah must have known things might’ve been heading that way but when Josie actually voiced the words he couldn’t help feeling sucker punched. “That’s what you really want?”

Josie didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Don’t you think we should work on it?” Jeremiah wasn’t a quitter even if he could see the writing on the wall. “Do you want to see a counselor?” He was really grasping at straws. Although he didn’t know why. Their marriage was over.

“I never want to see your face again.”

His jaw tensed. There was nothing left to say. “Then get the hell out.”

“Gladly.” Josie shouldered her purse. “I hate you. I hope you never sleep again. I don’t care how you justify your actions—the fact remains if you hadn’t bought that ATV our son would still be alive.”

Jeremiah’s eyes burned with the pain of his grieving heart and in that moment he desperately wanted to take out his pain on the woman standing before him. By the grace of God, somehow he managed to turn away, but he’d been a heartbeat away from killing her.

The echo of a slamming door reverberated in Jeremiah’s memory. Damn, he had to stop traveling down memory lane. That neighborhood had been demolished. He sighed and shook off the morose bent of his thoughts. Sometimes he was just plain tired of feeling bad. Last night with Miranda had shown him that it was possible to feel good again. It sucked about the circumstances...he had a feeling that he and Miranda could’ve made some beautiful sparks together.

* * *

MIRANDA RAPPED THREE times on the solid door of Ocalena’s house but didn’t wait for an answer and simply let herself in. She knew she was always welcome in this house. Johnny’s mother loved her like a daughter, possibly even more than she’d loved her son when he’d been alive. But then, Johnny had been a two-bit criminal who took advantage of every single person who crossed his path, including his own mother. So it wasn’t a stretch for Miranda to stand out and gain points with the old Yupik woman.

Miranda’s eight-year-old son, the light of her life and the reason she got up in the morning, ran into her arms. “Mama!” Miranda forgot about everything else that was going wrong in her life and simply embraced her son and inhaled the scent of her wild boy.

“Were you good for your mamu?”

“Yep,” Talen said, breaking the embrace to show Miranda what he’d made. He held up a rudimentary carving and beamed at his handiwork. “Mamu said I’m a natural. Do you think so, Mama?”

“Absolutely. Carving is in your blood, sweet cheeks. Remember, your poppy is a carver on my side, and it’s on your dad’s side, too. It’s in your heritage.”

Talen giggled and bounded off to continue his next project while Mamu and Miranda caught up. Miranda didn’t know why the old Yupik woman made her feel more at home than her own mother, but when Miranda walked through that familiar door, all the tension simply dropped from her shoulders—which given the anniversary of her sister’s death was a grace she desperately needed.

“Thanks for keeping him,” Miranda said, suddenly feeling very fatigued. She didn’t need to explain herself to Ocalena, but the words started to flow anyway. “I know I should find a better way to deal with Simone’s death, but my good intentions never seem to go very far when it comes down to the actual date on the calendar. It still hurts to think of her. When will that pain ever go away?”

Mamu took a break from the fish stew simmering on the old gas stove and joined Miranda on the ratty, lumpy sofa. She gazed at Miranda with knowing in her dark brown eyes. “You ask the wrong questions. It isn’t when will the pain go away...it is when will you accept that it wasn’t your fault.”

“I know,” she said but Mamu shook her head. There was no bullshitting the woman. Miranda didn’t even know why she tried. “Logically I tell myself it wasn’t my fault. Bad things happen, but I can’t help but wonder how things might’ve been different if I hadn’t been such a jerk about a stupid sweater that I can’t even remember any longer. Simone is gone because of that one decision.”

“No. Simone is gone because a bad man took her. When you finally take that to heart, you will no longer suffer as you do.”

Yeah, probably but not likely. More’s the pity. It might be nice to live without a constant reminder of her guilt. “I have a new boss,” she said abruptly. Maybe she thought she needed to confess her sins because the words were tripping from her mouth as if shoved. “He seems decent enough.” Mamu’s eyes were wise and she smiled, waiting for Miranda to come clean. “I, sort of, met him informally before the rest of the team.”

Mamu chuckled, reading between the lines, but all she said was, “A warm body on a cold night is a good thing.”

“Not when that warm body turns out to be your boss,” she muttered, and Mamu sighed, her eyes twinkling. “You’re incorrigible. I could get fired for something like this.”

“Bah. It’s no one’s business. More people should spend less time with their nose in other people’s business and more time tending to their own. Is he nice?”

“Nice? In what way?” Miranda asked cautiously. “I mean, he’s very professional, very buttoned-down, which is obviously what the administration was looking for since they picked him over me, but I can’t say much more because I don’t know him.”

“Nothing more telling than seeing how a person acts in their birthday suit,” Mamu said, disagreeing. Miranda’s cheeks heated but Mamu shrugged. “You’re a grown woman and a mother besides. What does your heart tell you about the man?”

Miranda startled. “My heart?” she nearly squeaked. “My heart doesn’t say anything. My heart wasn’t involved. My heart only has room for one little man and that’s my son.”

“A son like Talen is a blessing, but someday Talen will go find his own path and will leave his mother behind. What then? This path you’re walking will lead to many cold nights and an empty bed.”

“Well, that’s a long time from now,” Miranda said, uncomfortable with Mamu’s wisdom. She didn’t like the idea of being alone for the rest of her life, but she wasn’t interested in finding out what she could do to change that possible future, either. “Even if I was mildly open to the idea of finding someone to share a future with, it certainly wouldn’t be with my new boss. That’s just an invitation for bad luck.” Miranda stifled a yawn, ready to put an end to the day and the current conversation. “I feel run over. Get your stuff, buddy. Mama needs to hit the bed soon.”

Mamu shuffled off to ladle some fish stew for Miranda to take home, and then after hugging her tightly she sent her on her way.

Later that night after she’d wolfed down the stew, bathed Talen and read him a story and then put him to bed, she fell into her bed and expected sleep to claim her within minutes. But that didn’t happen. Instead, she caught a whiff of Jeremiah’s cologne still clinging to her sheets and immediately fell into a sensual memory of everything they’d done in that very bed less than twenty-four hours ago. God help her, she rolled onto her stomach and buried her nose in one of the pillows to inhale deeply. Why’d he have to smell so good?

She pulled the pillow to her and hugged it tight. It was a full minute before she realized how ridiculous she was being and actually tossed the pillow to the floor. She wasn’t the kind of woman who did that sort of thing and the fact that she’d just done that made her a little ill. That was it, she grumbled to herself as she kicked the covers free and began ripping the sheets from the bed and tossing them into the laundry hamper. I’m not going to spend all night assaulted by Jeremiah’s lingering scent in my bed. She made quick, angry work of changing her sheets, and then once she was satisfied nothing remained of Jeremiah, she climbed back into the bed and fell into an exhausted sleep.

Too bad her dreams were hot, steamy—and filled with Jeremiah.

So much for stripping the sheets for peace of mind.

CHAPTER SIX

EARLY NEXT MORNING Jeremiah found Miranda in her office already working. He recognized her drive as a trait he had himself and couldn’t help but admire her tenacious spirit, even if he knew that same drive might cause friction between them at some point.

“I read your poaching reports,” he stated reluctantly. She looked up and waited for him to continue. “Very thorough,” he admitted.

“Thank you. They have to be thorough to catch the bastards. What did you think?”

Jeremiah took a seat opposite her. “Tell me more about the bear carcasses.”

“The first carcass showed up two years ago. The hands, feet and gallbladder had been removed and there’d been some kind of grease smeared on the trees, which had served as bait, luring the bear to his death. That summer we found seven bears killed in the same way but we were never able to track the poachers.”

“Black-market trade for bear parts is very lucrative. We faced similar issues in Wyoming. As long as there’s a market for illegal animal parts, there will always be poachers.” Poachers were difficult to find and even harder to prosecute as they were lower-tier criminals in the justice system. Fining a convicted poacher wasn’t a stiff enough sentence, in Jeremiah’s opinion. He hoped there was a special area of hell reserved just for poachers, rapists and child molesters, but not everyone agreed that poachers represented the same level of threat, which resulted in budget cuts that reduced the number of rangers who kept the poachers in line. “They must know something about erasing the tracks if you couldn’t find them.” His statement wasn’t a dig and he was glad she didn’t take it that way, either. “What else do we know about them? Their habits? The territory they target?”

Her eyes lit up with something that looked like respect for his interest and she readily gave up all the information she had. “I think they have a tracker with them. They definitely know how to clear their tracks, how to avoid capture. Only someone who knows this area and knows what they’re doing could evade us for this long. I think if we had more resources we could finally catch these bastards.”

“Resources in this economy are hard to come by. As you know, the state is running lean, as most states are these days.”

“Someone has to take a stand and send a message.”

“I’d love to be that man, but the budget doesn’t have much wiggle room. I appreciate and understand your passion but we have to prioritize our resources.”

She frowned. “Why’d you even read my reports if you had no intention of helping me with the cases?”

“If it were in my power I’d give you the resources you need but the budget represents a pie that everyone wants a slice of. You’re a smart woman—you know how it works.”

“I’d hoped that things would be different with some new blood but I can tell you’re just as disinterested in rocking the boat as Virgil was.”

“Miranda, I’m not saying you can’t work to catch these poachers. You’ve gathered some thorough notes and information. I’m sure what you’re doing will help the cause.”

“Please don’t patronize me. It’s not necessary.”

“I’m not patronizing you in any way—I’m being honest with you.”

Miranda’s gaze cut away from his, plainly disappointed in his answers. He didn’t want to give her false hope that he’d suddenly find a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow when budget time rolled around. “If it means anything, I support what you’re doing. But since I’m the new guy, I can’t really go and start adding more personnel, new equipment and additional costs to an already-tight budget. I wanted to read the reports because I’m interested and I wanted to show you that I care about what my team members are working on.”

Miranda jerked a short nod but asked, “Have you ever come across the mutilated corpse of an animal knowing full well that animal was butchered illegally for the purpose of greed?”

“Yes, when I was a ranger. It sucks and I understand your anger, but you have to be smart about this.”

“Being smart never seems to get the results I need. Maybe it’s time to be reckless.”

He shot her a warning glance. “You’re angry,” he stated. “Once you simmer down you’ll regret anything you do in a fit of frustration.”

A hot and ready disagreement brimmed in her eyes but she held it back. She may well have been choking on the words she wanted to say, but she managed to give him a curt nod, then said, “You’re the boss,” and effectively ended the conversation by returning to her office.

Jeremiah hated the friction between them so early in their working relationship. Even though he couldn’t hire anyone else to help with the poaching problem, maybe he could spare a little of his own time to give the situation a fresh look. He considered the mountain of administrative paperwork he had to shuffle through and resigned himself to more late nights staring blearily at reams of paper. He rejoined Miranda in her office. She looked up warily. “Did you forget something?”

“I agree a fresh pair of eyes could help the case. Why don’t you take me out to the site where the bears were found.”

Her brow rose. “You want to survey the site? Why?”

“I don’t know the area and it would be helpful to get an actual view of the landscape instead of only seeing pictures. Gives me a better mental picture.”

“So me and you...tromping around in the wild together?”

“Is there a problem?”

“Not with me. I’m fine. I’m surprised you’d want to do that, is all.”

“I didn’t always start off behind a desk,” he said, deliberately ignoring the other point she was hinting at. He could handle alone time with her without suffering anything inappropriate. “I’d like to get started on this right away. I have this afternoon free. How about you?”

“I suppose I can move some things around.”

“Great. Since you know the area, how about you drive?”

“I’m surprised you trust a woman driver,” she said.

“Are you a bad driver?” he asked bluntly.

“Of course not.”

“And why would I have a problem with you driving? My masculinity is not in question here.” At that a faint blush rose to the tips of her cheeks, and he knew what she was thinking of because he was thinking of the same thing. He allowed a faint smile. “I’ll see you after lunch.”

* * *

THE MINUTE JEREMIAH left her office Miranda let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She rubbed at her chest where it ached from the tension and mulled Jeremiah’s offer. She’d hoped to convince him to let her hire a part-timer to help her sift through evidence, files and do more survey hikes around the area last affected, but she certainly hadn’t expected the man to offer up his own time. Virgil had always been so tightfisted around budget time that it’d been nearly impossible to shake loose enough cash to purchase more than a few extra paper clips for the office. Maybe getting Jeremiah out into the field would be to her advantage. Perhaps some hands-on fieldwork would prompt Jeremiah to look for more creative ways to massage the budget to her favor. Maybe...

Except, she didn’t want to work with Jeremiah; she didn’t want to be around Jeremiah; she didn’t want to do anything that would put her in close proximity with Jeremiah.

And that certainly included tromping around in the forest with the man.

But, as she’d quipped with a fair amount of snark, he was the boss, so what choice did she have? She’d always loved animals, even as a kid. Maybe it was because her mom was too busy ignoring her, but animals always provided entertainment, and love, so when she found creatures being abused, whether they were wild or tame, it drove her batty. And it also sliced at a raw nerve that she hadn’t been able to catch those damn poachers yet. It was as if they were thumbing their noses at her and laughing behind her back that she hadn’t been able to nail them to the wall. Preventing and catching poachers was not only her passion, but it was part of her job description, and it made no sense to her that more resources weren’t being thrown at this problem.

She’d been planning to stop by her parents’ house today but that would have to wait. She wasn’t about to drag Jeremiah with her over there and have him see all the dysfunction running wild through her family tree. She’d already broken enough rules when it came to her relationship with her boss. She certainly didn’t need to add trying to explain why her mother had a borderline hoarding compulsion and her father was growing marijuana in a greenhouse operation. Miranda pinched the bridge of her nose. No, she definitely didn’t want him to know that.

If only her brothers would take more of an interest in helping her deal with their parents. Trace, her second-oldest brother, was an antisocial hermit who avoided people at all costs, including his own family, and Wade, her oldest brother, was too busy in California pretending he didn’t have any family at all. So that left Miranda to pick up the pieces, hold it all together and deal with the overall craziness that was thrown her way on an everyday basis.

Even as she allowed herself a minor pity party, her gaze strayed to the small portrait photo of her son on her desk. Talen’s wide and unabashed smile as he held up his first fish warmed her heart. If it weren’t for Talen she’d have given up a long time ago. He was the reason her life had taken a turn for the better even if her pregnancy had been a shock.

She remembered the day vividly.

She’d been sick all day and Johnny hadn’t been the least bit sympathetic.

“Catch a bug or something?” Johnny lit a cigarette. The corners of his mouth tilted up at her misfortune as he blew a smoke ring her way. “Maybe you need to smoke some weed.”

She sent him a withering stare. “Last I checked you aren’t a doctor, so shut up.”

“Don’t have to be a bitch about it. Just trying to help.” Johnny took a long drag off his cigarette. “You buy any food when you went to the store?”

The thought of food made her stomach rebel. “No, and don’t talk about food,” she snapped, just as she ran for the toilet yet again to lose the remaining contents of her stomach.

At first she’d thought it was the flu. But then she realized she rarely got that sick. And one thought led to another until she was staring at the realization that her troubles were not caused by a virus. She took a test the next morning. It’d been positive.

“So you’re saying I’m going to be a daddy?” Johnny had asked when she told him the news. But the moment she told him she’d wished she could have taken the words back. She didn’t want Johnny to have any part in raising her child. Johnny wasn’t the kind of man who should’ve been around children, animals or even plant life.

It was at that moment that she realized she couldn’t keep living the way she was living. Not if she was bringing a child into the world. A child deserved more. Certainly more than Johnny could ever offer. She’d considered lying to him and saying she was going to get an abortion. But lying was a temporary fix for a permanent problem. The minute Johnny knew she was still pregnant he’d want to have contact with his kid. The dilemma kept Miranda awake at night. Until one day, her problem resolved itself. Johnny got busted for drugs—and it was his third strike. Miranda knew she shouldn’t revel in someone else’s misfortune, but the day they took Johnny into custody, she’d experienced a sense of relief. And when she’d received the call that he had died in prison, it was the most that she could do to work up a single tear. The fact was Johnny was a bad person who’d probably done the world a favor by taking a dirt nap.

The only residual regret that Miranda experienced was when she had to explain to her son why his father wasn’t around. She wished she could tell him a story about how his father had died some noble death. The kind of death a soldier, a cop or a fireman might have, saving others, perhaps. There just wasn’t a way to pretty up the fact that Talen’s father had been a selfish, rude and wholly self-centered man who’d done and said bad things nearly every day of his miserable life.

God, she’d been so stupid to hook up with Johnny. At the time she’d been on a self-destructive streak and Johnny had seemed just the right amount of dangerous to satisfy her need for chaos. She met him shortly after Simone had died. She’d been heartsick, guilt ridden and overwhelmed with regret. Johnny must’ve homed in on those markers because he moved in on her like a bird of prey after a mouse.

The first couple of months had been great. Their sex life had been the stuff of X-rated movies—exciting and dirty—and for a while she really thought she loved him. And even if she wasn’t sure about her true feelings for Johnny, she knew for certain that she loved his mother. Likely, it’d been her relationship with Mamu that had kept her around longer than she should have stayed, but there was no point in guessing at this point. By the time Miranda had started to pull herself out of the skid and realized that Johnny wasn’t a healthy choice for a partner, it’d been a challenge to break ties.

Her pregnancy had allowed for a certain sense of clarity that’d been missing before and enabled her to think clearly for the first time since Simone had died.

Johnny had been proof that anyone could father a child but not every man was cut out to be a dad. And although Talen looked so much like Johnny, Miranda was ensuring that they were nothing alike.

It was hard to look at Talen’s face and see anything but the sweetest, most amiable boy ever created. And she couldn’t imagine life without him.

Thank God, Johnny had never had a single day of influence on the boy. For that, she was immensely grateful.

Talen was the reason she never brought men home with her when he was home, why she never introduced Talen to any of her boyfriends—though the term boyfriend was a stretch, because she rarely allowed them to hang around long enough to require stashing a toothbrush at the house. She didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. She wasn’t looking for a daddy figure for her son, which was a change from the usual single-mama drama that happened in town. Nope. Not looking for daddy material. Just a friend with benefits.

Her thoughts strayed to Jeremiah, and for a moment she allowed her mind to drift over the details from the night before. Jeremiah’s friendship would’ve been a wonderful benefit. Just remembering their time together made her shiver with awareness.

Okay, enough of that nonsense.

She shook her head, trying to dislodge the imagery, and scooped up her papers as she stabbed the power button to shut down her computer. Miranda didn’t know how she’d manage to forget all she and Jeremiah had done, but she’d have to figure out a way because at the moment it seemed downright impossible to work side by side with the man and not want to stick her tongue down his throat.

And that just made her grouchy.

CHAPTER SEVEN

JEREMIAH CLIMBED INTO Miranda’s Range Rover and immediately noted how tidy the interior was. “Not a fan of clutter, I see.”

It was true she didn’t care for clutter, possibly because her mother was such a pack rat, but the fact that he noticed just how meticulous she was with her vehicle made her shift uncomfortably. It was as if he’d somehow caught a glimpse into her inner psyche and that left her feeling vulnerable and exposed. “And in your experience are most women comfortable with a mess?” Generally, she hated when someone answered a question with another question but she couldn’t help herself when it came to Jeremiah. Just being around him put her on the defensive. “It’s not so much that I hate clutter—it’s that I hate disorganization. I like being able to find whatever I need, when I need it.” Why was she explaining herself? She should’ve just left her answer and moved on. “How about we only talk about work rather than personal details?”

“I make you uncomfortable.”

“Of course you do.” Why should she lie? “But given our relationship, aren’t you uncomfortable, as well?”

“I thought we agreed to act as adults?”

Of course he would point out that she was being the difficult one. She glared for lack of a good defense. He held her stare. Finally, she shrugged and admitted, “We did.”

He released a sigh as if disappointed. “What if we hadn’t met the way we did? Would that have changed our relationship?”

She shot him a warning glance. “I don’t deal in hypotheticals. We can’t change the fact that we know each other intimately. I would love to step back in time and redo that decision but we can’t. What happened, happened. We just have to deal with it. But the more you bring it up, the more it’s in our faces. We need to be able to work together as peers and we won’t be able to do that if you keep talking about what we did.”

She didn’t know if she was angry with him because he kept bringing it up or if she was just angry at the circumstances, but she couldn’t prevent the snap in her tone. The fact was, as much as she tried to bury it, the memory of their night together continued to badger her at the worst moments. She wanted to lean in to catch a whiff of his cologne; her gaze was drawn to every muscular line in his body. The fact that she couldn’t push him from her mind as readily as any other man from her past irritated her.

“Can we please just get to work?” Focusing on a detail within her scope of expertise was the most efficient way of stopping the inappropriate thoughts and conversation. However, she stopped to ask him a question that had been bugging her. “Whatever brought you to Alaska, anyway? According to your bio you had a pretty good job where you were. Why would you want to start over in a foreign place with people you don’t know?”

Jeremiah’s expression shuttered and she knew right away there was something painful he was protecting. She knew that look. She knew it deep in her bones. She knew it the same way she knew the discomfort of an old, worn shoe that in spite of the damage it was doing to your foot, you couldn’t bring yourself to throw away. Whatever he was protecting, whatever pain he was trying to suppress, it was something that rode him without mercy just as Simone’s death rode her every single day of her life. The fact that she could sense the pain inside of Jeremiah caused her to mentally stumble. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.” She didn’t want to know his pain. She didn’t want to know what caused that look in his eyes. She didn’t need reasons to identify with Jeremiah Burke.

Jeremiah accepted her exit from the conversation and simply jerked a nod. “Tell me about the suspects in this case.”

* * *

JEREMIAH COULDN’T BELIEVE how swiftly one single, innocent question from Miranda managed to tilt him on his ear. He’d known people would ask why he would leave a good job in Wyoming to come to the wilds of Alaska. And he’d had a ready answer. But when she’d asked that single question he couldn’t give her the practiced speech he’d prepared. It’d been on the tip of his tongue to admit that his son, Tyler, had been killed and he couldn’t fathom staying another minute in the place where there were so many memories. For a heartbeat, he almost envisioned sharing his personal pain with a total stranger.

Okay, she wasn’t a total stranger but he really didn’t know her. He didn’t know who she was. And what he did know about her, he wasn’t sure he agreed with. He was grateful she had given him an out. But in that moment he’d seen something in her eyes, something that identified with him in a way that shocked him to his toes. There was something in Miranda’s past, something she was just as sensitive about as he was about Tyler. Something told him he could probably find out fairly easily where her pain originated. That was the beauty of a small town. But going behind her back and snooping into her past seemed wrong. If Miranda wanted him to know what she was protecting, that information ought to come from her. Not that there was a snowball’s chance in hell that she’d share.

* * *

“JUDGING BY THE EVIDENCE, what little there was left behind, we think there are five men involved. But that’s pure speculation because they cover their tracks so well. Sometimes I wonder if they’re somehow making it look as if there are more people when there’s only two. Who knows? But it’s definitely someone who knows what they’re doing. Which leads me to think that it’s a local. As much as I hate to think that. But who else would know the area the way they do and who else would know how to get in and out of those mountains without dying? It’s rough terrain. An inexperienced person could easily slip and fall to their death in these mountains. But whoever these people are they have the sure-footedness of a Billy goat.”

“Could it be one of the indigenous people?”

Miranda’s expression was grim. “Possibly. I’ve asked around but the tribes around here are pretty tight-lipped when it comes to their own. Even if they knew one of the tribal members was committing the crime, they’d never tell the authorities. They don’t trust easily, and like many indigenous tribes, they have reason to distrust those in authority.”

Jeremiah seemed to disagree with her comment but he didn’t chase after that train of thought and she was glad he’d remained quiet. She was protective of the Yupik and their rights because in her son’s blood ran the proud heritage of the local people. Mamu’s ancestors had fished the frigid waters and lived in harmony with Alaska before any white man had stepped foot on the shores to show them the “right” way to live. “I can check and see if there’s been any poaching crimes that fit the M.O. of the poachers here and see if anything pops up that might help. If they’re running a black-market operation, chances are they aren’t hunting only in Alaska.”

Miranda nodded. “That’s true. I made some inquiries but no one seemed all that interested in miring themselves in research for someone else’s pet project.”

“Poaching doesn’t rate on the same level as homicide or even grand theft. Every federal agency is underfunded and understaffed these days it seems. No one wants to take on more work than they have to,” he said.

“Don’t I know it,” she grumbled. “I’ve had a heck of a time getting anyone in our office to lift much more than a finger to help. No one is interested in fieldwork these days and tracking poachers is time spent away from the comforts of a warm office and their topped-off coffee mug.”

“When I was younger I used to spend a lot of time in the field as a ranger. I loved the solitude and the quiet of the mountains. Sometimes I was able to make more sense of what was going on in my life when I was completely surrounded by nature than when I was among other human beings.”

“‘The clearest way into the universe is through a forest wilderness,’” Miranda said with a faint smile.

“John Muir,” Jeremiah murmured with approval. “I’m a huge fan.”

“Gotta love an activist with his heart in the right place,” Miranda said. “I think my brother Wade fancied himself a modern-day John Muir. Fitting, seeing as he moved to California to become a law-enforcement ranger in Yosemite National Park.”

“I did a stint there in my early days. Beautiful country. The valley floor takes your breath away. Have you ever been?”

Miranda shook her head. “Nope. Alaska is enough for me. I don’t share my brother’s wanderlust. Besides, I have plenty to keep me busy right here.”

Miranda allowed silence to fill the cab as she maneuvered the streets out of town and up toward the forest access roads. Jeremiah was unlike any man she’d ever met, particularly for an administrator. Virgil had been content to play by the rules without poking his head up too often to attract attention. His belief had been that if they kept their heads down, when budget cuts came around, Homer’s small satellite office would get overlooked for bigger fish. So with that in mind, Virgil never updated anything in the office, which included the furniture, the carpet, the leaky toilet. Perhaps his strategy had worked because Homer had been left alone when the last round of cuts had come around, but then, they’d been operating on such a ridiculously low budget, Miranda wasn’t sure where they could’ve cut expenses unless they’d started forgoing toilet paper and started using newspaper for their bathroom business.

As if keying into her thoughts, Jeremiah asked, “How was your relationship with your former boss? Virgil was his name, right?”

“Yes. Virgil was Virgil. Good, solid guy. A little on the cranky side at times but otherwise harmless. Why?”

“Just making conversation.”

“How was your relationship with your former boss?” she asked, lobbing the question right back at him.

“My boss was a jackass.”

“Why didn’t you like him?”

“She,” he corrected, “was a power-hungry egomaniac on her best days. However, she didn’t want to bother with my department and left me to run it as long as nothing landed on her desk that would make her look bad. Thankfully, I did my job well, and thus, our paths crossed only a few times a year for the obligatory dinners, and we managed to smile civilly for appearances’ sake.”

“So why do you call her a jackass?”

“Because she was as tough as any man I’d ever known and I figured the term fit.”

She chuckled. “Something tells me you’re not going to send her a Christmas card this year.”

“Crossing her off the list was done with more than a little zeal.”

Miranda laughed a little harder, picturing Jeremiah striking a name with a big black marker and an expression of maniacal glee. Jeremiah graced her with a wry but knowing look. “You just imagined me as a crazy person in your mind, didn’t you?”

“No, of course not,” she lied, her smile remaining. “Nice to know you’re human just like the rest of us.”

He shot her an assessing glance. “Should I be flattered or concerned that I come off as inhuman?”

She faltered, realizing she may have inadvertently insulted him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from. We really shouldn’t talk about personal stuff. It’s a slippery slope given our history.”

“It’s okay,” he assured her. “I have a decent sense of humor and I hardly consider polite banter between two people as crossing a line. Our history doesn’t have to be the elephant in the room.”

“But it is the elephant in the room,” she disagreed. “Normally, I wouldn’t have a problem joking around with my superior if I found that person open to it, but I’m not entirely comfortable doing that with you because of my fear that we’re becoming noticeably too familiar. The last thing I need is people talking about my professional relationships.” She added, grumbling, “They do enough talking about me as it is.”

Jeremiah chose to let her comment slide and she was grateful because she should’ve kept that complaint to herself. Her mother was fond of saying, “It’s your bed, now lie in it,” and ordinarily, she wouldn’t have given two flips of a sea otter’s fin how others felt about her, but for some reason she cared what Jeremiah thought about her. She’d dig into those reasons later. For now, she wanted to ignore them.

“I like to get to know my team,” Jeremiah continued. “I feel it helps me to be a better leader if I know the strengths and weaknesses of the people around me. I don’t know how to get to know someone without discovering some personal details about them.”

“And how did your team back in Wyoming feel about you poking your nose into their personal business?”

“I didn’t ask intrusive questions.... I simply showed that I was interested in knowing what they cared about. And you know what, my team appreciated my interest. They said it made them feel as if I was doing more than only being their boss because it was my job.” He paused before admitting, “I prided myself on being more than a superior, but I don’t know how to do that with you.”

“I think you know me well enough,” she muttered. “The way I see it, we already know each other too well.”

Jeremiah caught her gaze briefly but it was long enough for Miranda to see the heat smoldering behind those beautiful eyes and she knew in an instant that he was thinking of all the ways they’d spent the evening worshipping each other’s bodies. Her cheeks flared and her breath hitched in her throat as words escaped her. Jeremiah saved her from further embarrassing herself by speaking first. “I’m trying to operate as I’ve always done with employees. I’m trying to forget our first encounter.”

“How’s that working out for you?” she asked, unable to help herself.

“As well as it is for you,” he retorted drily. “But I’m going to keep trying and I suggest you do the same. In the meantime, if I don’t treat you the same as I treat everyone, it will look odd. So...I will ask you about your family, your pets and your hobbies just as I would for Todd or Mary or anyone else on my team. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it.” She didn’t like it, but Jeremiah’s statement made sense even if the idea of giving up more personal information, however superficial, made her squirm. But she had to admit, having a boss who actually cared about things wasn’t entirely bad. “You’re a good guy, Jeremiah Burke,” she decided with an irritated sigh. “Things would’ve been a lot easier if you’d been a total ass. And ugly.”

She was pleased when he simply acknowledged her grudging compliment with a slight head nod. If he’d mucked up the sentiment with more words, it would’ve ruined the good feeling she had about him. And she was glad that he hadn’t.

CHAPTER EIGHT

JEREMIAH WAS NO STRANGER to a beautiful landscape but the Alaskan wilderness took his breath away. Nearly literally.

He shrugged and shifted in his down jacket, shuddering as the cold jarred his bones, reminding him with an icy touch that he wasn’t as young as he used to be. An old skiing injury always flared up in the winter, aching and protesting when the temperature dropped, just like it was now. Miranda caught his subtle wince as they climbed the trail winding deeper into the Kenai Mountains and stopped with a frown. “You okay? If you aren’t up to this, we can turn around.”

“I’m fine,” he answered, determined to keep going. He didn’t want Miranda to see him as a weak desk monkey, though he knew it shouldn’t matter what she thought of his masculinity. He gritted his teeth and ignored the dull pain throbbing in his knee. “Show me the way. I’m right behind you.”

“If you say so, but the trail gets pretty rough up ahead,” she warned as she turned and kept trudging along the trail that was clogged with deep foliage and ruts caused by snow runoff. The bite in the air smelled sharp and clean even if it cut through his bones. He probably should’ve picked a warmer clime—like Arizona or Nevada—but if anything said “you’re old and can’t take it” faster than a move to Arizona, Jeremiah didn’t know. Besides, he hated the extreme heat even more than he hated the idea of being thought of as a soft-handed desk monkey.

They came to a ridge overlooking a meadow that bumped up against the edge of a lake, and the beauty filled him with joy. “Pretty as a postcard,” he murmured in appreciation. “This is definitely God’s country.”

“Yeah, nothing is better than Alaskan wilderness to remind us just how small we really are.” She drew a deep breath. “I’d match up the glory of Alaska to any place in the United States.”

“You love Alaska.”

“I do,” she admitted softly. “I don’t know why—by all rights, I ought to hate this place—but I can’t imagine my life anywhere but here. Guess I have Alaskan ice flowing through my veins.”

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