Dear Reader,

Welcome to Good Riddance, Alaska, a quirky little town in the Alaskan bush where everyone’s story isn’t quite what it seems. Founded twenty-five years ago by a Southern Belle transplant, Merrilee Danvers Weatherspoon, Good Riddance welcomes an assortment of folks from all walks of life.

Clint Sisnuket is proud of his Alaskan native heritage. The land and his people share a special bond and Clint feels it more deeply than most, which is what makes him the best guide in the area. Strong and proud, his totem is the eagle, Clint protects the land, his customs, and those under his care. Clint deserves a special mate, but what happens when that woman doesn’t fit into his world?

I hope you enjoy your stay in Good Riddance. Don’t forget to come back next month for a Northern Escape.

I always enjoy hearing from readers. Please drop by and visit me at www.jenniferlabrecque.com

As always … happy reading,

Jen

About the Author

After a varied career path that included barbecue-joint waitress, corporate number cruncher and bug business maven, JENNIFER LABRECQUE has found her true calling writing contemporary romance. Named 2001 Notable New Author of the Year and 2002 winner of the prestigious Maggie Award for Excellence, she is also a two-time RITA® Award finalist. Jennifer lives in suburban Atlanta with a Chihuahua who runs the whole show.

Northern Encounter

Jennifer LaBrecque

www.millsandboon.co.uk

1

CLINT SISNUKET LEANED against the window frame in the airstrip office in Good Riddance, Alaska, and watched the snow sifting out of the dark sky.

“Dalton will radio for clearance when he’s coming in for landing,” said Merrilee Danville Weatherspoon, Good Riddance founder and airfield operator.

Clint turned to her with a slow smile. He liked Merrilee. He’d been pleased when his clan had grant ed her honorary membership, but there were times she simply didn’t understand the native way. But at least Merrilee respected the native way, unlike Clint’s French-Canadian mother. “I’m not looking for Dalton.” The local bush pilot was flying Clint’s latest client in from Anchorage. They’d arrive when they arrived. “I’m enjoying the sky.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” she said. Clint had discovered that people who shared Merrilee’s southern origins, liked to talk. A lot. It wasn’t unpleasant, simply different. And Merrilee might have spent the past twenty-five years in Alaska, but she still retained her southern roots. Roots were important. They shaped a person, grounded them. “I guess you and Kobuk will see a lot of the sky in the next week.”

The malamute raised his head briefly at hearing his name and then dropped his head back on his paws, soaking up the heat of the wood-burning stove across the room. For once Jeb Taylor and Dwight Simmons weren’t parked in the rocking chairs that flanked the chess board next to the pot-bellied stove. The two old-timers were pretty much permanent fixtures who argued with each other more than they actually made chess moves.

Clint grinned. “T. S. Bellingham wants to video tape the northern lights, so Kobuk and I will help him.” His client was interested in capturing lots of Alaska on videotape, but nothing more so than the beauty of the northern lights, which should be spectacular once the impending storm moved through.

The northern lights, also known as the aurora borealis, fascinated many, Clint among them. His people believed the lights were spirits of ancestors dancing in the sky. He didn’t particularly buy that bill of goods but there was a beauty and mystical qual ity about them impossible to ignore. Even after thirty years, he never tired of them. He knew he never would because the lights were never, ever the same.

“But we won’t be seeing the lights tomorrow. Not with this storm blowing in.”

Merrilee looked surprised but not skeptical. “I’d better get a weather update,” she said, reaching for the radio mic.

It crackled to life before she could pick it up, a dis embodied voice announcing through the static an impending storm. They were good for a couple of hours but it was coming. “You sure can call them,” Merrilee said to Clint.

Bull Swenson tromped down the stairs. Bull’s given name was rumored to be Edward, but Bull suit ed him much better. Thick and muscular, he had a mane of white hair and a full beard to match. Even in his sixties he could keep up with men half his age. Bull nodded in his direction. “Clint.”

“Bull.”

The older man looked at Merrilee in obvious affection. “He sure can call what?”

Bull and Merrilee had been an item ever since they’d met. It was well-known throughout town that Bull occasionally asked her to marry him and she routinely turned him down. Apparently a bad first marriage could do that to a person.

Merrilee poured a mug of coffee and handed it to Bull. “There’s a storm coming in.”

“I could’ve told you that. My knee and shoulder are killing me.”

“You want a couple of ibuprofen?” Merrilee was already reaching for the bottle on the shelf above her desk before she finished speaking. Clint wondered what it would be like to have someone in his life who anticipated his needs, his responses, that way. If his grandmother had anything to say about it, Ellie Lightfoot was that someone. Clint, however, didn’t feel a connection with Ellie, although that made no sense. A schoolteacher from a neighboring village, Ellie was native, beautiful, accomplished and even-tempered—all the hallmarks of a good mate. He’d tried, but he simply couldn’t seem to work up any real enthusiasm around seeing her.

“Sure.” Bull winced and rubbed at his shoulder. “Damn Viet Cong.”

Bull flew a black-and-white POW flag from his front porch. His knee and shoulder aches were, as he put it, “courtesy of his stay in the Hanoi Hilton” during the Vietnam War.

“Here, take these.” Merrilee handed Bull a couple of orange pills. “Looks as if there’ll be at least half a day’s delay in that video Clint’s going to help shoot.”

Bull shook his head. “It’s the craziest thing I ever heard. This Bellingham fella is making a video about Alaska but it’s not a documentary. It’s just scenery with music?”

“I thought it was sort of crazy myself,” Merrilee said, “but I ordered one of his beach videos and it’s nice.” A faint yearning flickered in her eyes. “Much as I love Alaska, I do miss the Redneck Riviera.”

“Redneck Riviera?” Clint asked.

She laughed. “Gulf Shores in Alabama—some of the prettiest white-sand beaches with clear blue water you’ll ever see. My family used to go there every summer when I was a girl.” Her voice carried more than a hint of nostalgia. “That ambient video’s about the next best thing to being there.”

“Maybe we should go this summer,” Bull said, gruff and abrupt as ever.

She shot a surprised look at Bull. “We couldn’t possibly leave in the summer. That’s the busiest time of year for both our businesses. This isn’t just an air strip office, remember, it’s a bed and breakfast, too.”

Bull shrugged. “Neither one of us is getting any younger. If you miss the beach that much, we should go.”

“That’s sweet, but I’m fine with just my video.”

Bull swallowed a mouthful of the steaming coffee. “Maybe those videos of Bellingham’s aren’t so crazy after all.”

Clint nodded. “I haven’t seen one but they’re a good way to share places and things with people who can’t get there. He wants to shoot footage of everything he can while he’s here. Northern lights, wildlife, glaciers, footage of snow falling—a little bit of everything. Tomorrow we’re going to fly up and stay at the fishing cabin for a few nights. He wants to shoot the lights and we should be able to get some wolf and bird footage there as well.” He and Bellingham had exchanged a number of detailed emails. Bellingham had been very clear and straightforward about his taping objectives. In turn, Clint had made it very clear that it was cold and the cabin was rough, but it was well-situated to view and film the lights. Plus, a wolf pack was known to live in the area. They’d spend the rest of the time at the bed and breakfast which should also afford a good view of the lights from a different perspective while serving as a home base.

“That all sounds good,” Merrilee said.

The outing would be respectful of nature and the land, which appealed to Clint.

On the neat and tidy desk, the radio crackled. Dalton Saunders’s voice, complete with static, requested permission to land.

The plane’s lights appeared as Merrilee granted clear ance for the strip. Within a few minutes the small plane was on the ground and Saunders was opening the passenger door for Bellingham. Clint frowned. Not that it much mattered, but he’d figured Bellingham for an average guy. From here, though, it was clear he was far shorter than Saunders and, even in a hooded parka, pretty damn small. This was unexpected, but no problem. Clint didn’t mind hauling equipment and Kobuk was a working dog.

Bellingham and Saunders each grabbed a bag and crossed to the airfield door in the glow of the lights reflecting off the white snow.

The second they crossed the threshold Clint felt it—a shift inside him, an inexplicable feeling that passed through his body. It took him a second to realize what he felt was a connection, as if her energy had become his. And it was definitely a her—the face framed by the parka’s fur-lined hood was decidedly, unmistakably female. She had sparkling spruce-green eyes, pale skin with a smattering of freckles across a straight nose, and a smile that revealed faintly crooked teeth.

Thrown off-kilter by the woman and his reaction to her, Clint did something he seldom did. He spoke without thinking. “Where’s Bellingham?”

Saunders was definitely smirking. “Right here.”

The woman pulled off her gloves and pushed back her hood. Silky blonde hair fell in a near-white curtain to her shoulders. “I’m T. S. Bellingham.” She held out her hand. “You must be Mr. Sisnuket.”

Even though he’d never seen her before in his life, a surge of recognition coursed through him. The sense of recognition was so strong, it quite frankly scared the hell out of him. However, he couldn’t ignore her outstretched hand. His engulfed hers, and while her skin was warm and soft, her handshake was firm and decisive. Another shock wave coursed through him.

Her eyes widened, her lips parted, and she all but snatched her hand from him. She’d felt it too.

Merrilee launched into her welcoming spiel and Clint shoved his hand into his pocket, definitely thrown off his usual even keel. Dammit, this was what he should’ve felt with Ellie Lightfoot, one of his kind, not this green-eyed blonde. The last thing he wanted to do was spend nearly a week in this woman’s company. Five days couldn’t end soon enough.

TESSA BELLINGHAM forced herself to focus on the woman speaking to her rather than the man she’d just met.

“Welcome to Good Riddance, Alaska, where you can leave behind what troubles you,” said the woman who’d introduced herself as Merrilee Danville Weatherspoon. “Let me hang your coat over here for you.” Tessa shrugged out of the down-filled parka and handed it over. Merrilee looked Tessa up and down, her blue eyes sharp but kind. Tessa found the other woman’s lace-trimmed pink and gray flannel shirt charming. “And aren’t you just a surprise? We all thought you were a man.”

Smiling, Tessa nodded. “Sometimes it’s easier that way. I’ve used T.S. on all of my correspondence for years.” Single woman, no family—she’d learned early on it was better not to advertise to the world at large she was a female. A little gender confusion wasn’t a bad thing. “And when you make arrangements via the internet, whether you’re a male or female doesn’t usually come up.”

“Well, there is that. By the way, I love your beach video.”

“I’m glad. That’s always nice to hear.” A beautiful dark brown dog, with a white face, chest and front legs, and a light brown “mask,” crossed the room to sniff at her. The dog didn’t look particularly menacing, but neither did he appear overly friendly. No tail wagging accompanied his overture.

“Offer him your hand,” Clint Sisnuket said, the first words he’d spoken directly to her. His voice was deep, with a cadence that bespoke his native status. The errant thought occurred to her that she could just close her eyes and listen to him speak … and wouldn’t that just throw the whole room yet another curve ball.

He didn’t like her—the man, not the dog. Well, the dog might decide he didn’t like her either but for sure the man didn’t. Actually, dislike was too strong. She was getting an incredible sense of wariness from him. In fact, it was practically rolling off him in waves. Couldn’t the rest of the room sense it, too?

“He won’t think I’m offering him a snack, will he?” she said with a smile as she held out her hand.

“No, he prefers legs to hands at snack time.”

Tessa smiled. At least he had a sense of humor—even if it was a little lame. The dog sniffed her and then startled her when he bumped her hand with his head. “Kobuk likes you,” Clint Sisnuket said.

She ran her fingers lightly over the thick fur and scratched him behind his ears. “Hello, Kobuk, you handsome boy.” He wagged his upright, curling tail. “You like that, do you? I’m glad you like me.”

“But then again, Kobuk likes pretty much everyone.” Clint Sisnuket managed to make it sound faintly insulting, as if the dog’s standards were so low she shouldn’t find it remarkable he liked her. It was as if he was trying to deliberately put a distance between them.

She ground her teeth and persisted. “Malamute or husky? I’m not familiar enough with the two breeds to discern the difference.”

Wait, had Mr. Stoic/Hostile Native Guide just slipped up and allowed a glimmer of grudging admiration to slip through? “Malamute. He’s bigger than a husky.”

Merrilee and Dalton Saunders, the bush pilot, finished up their business. She liked Dalton with his sense of humor and easy-going smile, and Tessa had heard all about his fiancée, Dr. Skye Shanahan, on the flight from Anchorage to Good Riddance.

He’d been so obviously in love it had left Tessa wondering what it would be like to have a man feel that way about her—not that she needed anyone. She’d been on her own for so long, pretty much all her life. That’s what she knew and that’s what felt com fortable. She wasn’t so sure she would even know how to have a relationship like that. And the vulnerability … when you cared that much it left you wide open to intense heartbreak. But she’d liked hearing about it.

“Oh, yeah,” Merrilee said with a snap of her fingers. “I almost forgot, Dalton. Tell Skye that Gus is covering her on the Thanksgiving dish.”

“Will do. Gus is a good woman,” he said with a grin.

Gus was a woman? Okay.

“Our Thanksgiving celebration is week after next. The whole town gets together and everyone brings a dish,” Merrilee said by way of explanation. “Skye’s a good doctor but the girl can’t cook. And Skye’s busy, so my niece, Gus, is going to make a dish for her. Gus has the bar and restaurant next door—she trained as a chef in Paris.”

It was all a little confusing, but most of all it gave Tessa a funny feeling inside to think of the whole town turning out for Thanksgiving. Personally, she’d be just as happy skipping the last half of November and all of December. Family holidays had never been warm fuzzy experiences even though her great-aunt and -uncle had tried.

She’d told herself on more than one occasion she was lucky. Aunt Lucy and Uncle Ted had given her a comfortable home in Tucson when a car accident had claimed both of Tessa’s parents when she was in second grade. When the older couple died within a few months of each other after her nineteenth birthday, the house had become hers. She’d always had a roof over her head but there’d been something inherently painful around family holidays.

She came and went as she pleased and answered to no one. Even though she’d grown up in Tucson, she’d never had a true sense of belonging. She’d decided to deem herself a child of the planet, which is what made her so good at finding and videotaping waterfalls and beaches and places that some people would never be lucky enough to see in person. But the holidays … definitely not her favorite time. Oh, sure, Val, who had lived two doors down and become her best friend, and her family always invited her over for Thanksgiving or Christmas but somehow that felt intrusive to her.

However, the notion of the whole town gathering to celebrate intrigued her.

“The whole town really gets together?”

“Well, those who want to. The biggest problem is finding room for everyone, but we manage. This time next year our new community center will be ready. In fact, it should be finished next month. Too bad you’re not going to be here then. Of course, listen to me, you probably already have plans.” Yep, Tessa had plans. She’d be ordering take-out and editing the footage she’d shot while she was here. Merrilee charged on. “How about a cup of coffee or some hot tea? Or Gus’s bar is next door if you need something stronger.”

Tessa returned the other woman’s smile. “Thanks but something stronger would knock me right out. Hot tea would be lovely.”

Dalton finished his coffee and looked at Clint. “That mutt of yours ready to work? Clive’s generator came in. And with the storm coming in he may need it. It’s sitting on the back of the plane.”

Clint grinned and Tessa was totally unprepared for the sheer impact. He looked over at the dog and said, “Work, Kobuk?”

The dog lit up. Tessa could’ve sworn he offered a canine smile. He shot to his feet and pranced around the room.

“My mutt’s ready,” Clint said with another of those lethal grins.

“Can you lend a hand, Bull?” Dalton asked.

“No problem.”

Clint paused at the door, looking over his shoulder at Tessa. His endlessly dark eyes sent a shiver through her. “We’ll go over the week’s plan when I get back. This shouldn’t take long.”

She smiled, determined to get past his wariness. “I’ll be here.”

The three men and the dog went out into the cold and dark. Merrilee turned to her. “I don’t know how much you know about them but malamutes are a working breed. Some of the tourists passing through don’t understand it. They think it’s cruel, but that dog is happiest when he’s pulling a load on a sleigh. That’s how they’ll deliver Clive’s generator. About that tea, green or Earl Grey?”

“Earl Grey,” Tessa said, crossing to look out the window. On the airstrip, Kobuk had been strapped into traces connected to a sled. The men hauled a large generator out of the plane’s cargo hold. Even with the heavy piece of equipment they were lifting, she noted Clint moved with a deliberateness and ease. They settled the generator on the sled’s bed.

In the dark twilight outside, snow dusted Clint’s dark head. He was a beautiful man in a wholly masculine way, with high, flat cheekbones that bespoke his native heritage, a knee-weakening sensual mouth, and raven-black hair. He was unusually tall for a native and he possessed maddeningly broad shoulders that jump-started things inside her that had no business jump-starting.

Clint chose that moment to look up, his gaze tangling with hers. Even through the window with its cold draft, a sexual heat rolled through her and her thighs grew damp. She looked away, embarrassed. She had the most ridiculous notion that even from the distance, even though she’d only just met him, that Clint knew that he’d turned her on with just a look across a snowy expanse.

“Here’s your tea,” Merrilee said, handing her a delicate cup and saucer painted with violets.

“Thank you,” Tessa said, grateful for the distraction. This was an unwelcome first. In all of her travels with her job, she’d never been sexually attracted before to any of her guides. She’d have to watch herself with Clint Sisnuket. A relationship with him would be extremely unprofessional on her part.

And yet, she’d never had such an immediate response to any man. There was something different about Clint, something that instinctively drew her. She didn’t want to do anything stupid.

2

THERE WAS NOTHING sweeter than the feel of the wind and snow blowing as they moved in sync with Kobuk down the street. Clint and Dalton kept pace with the sled which was loaded with the strapped down compressor in the cargo area. Once they’d loaded up the sled, Bull had headed over to Donna’s Engine and Motor Repair to check on a snowmobile engine. Clive, who lived just at the other end of Main Street, could help with the unloading.

“You okay?” Dalton asked.

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You seemed a little thrown off balance back there when you saw Ms. Bellingham. Guess she wasn’t exactly what you were expecting?” Dalton grinned.

To put it lightly—hell, no, she wasn’t what he expected. “Nope. I was thinking she was a middle-aged guy but it doesn’t really matter. No worries.” Clint was a professional. Just because Tessa Bellingham possessed captivating green eyes and a full lower lip didn’t change anything. She was a client. Plain and simple.

Dalton nodded and shot Clint an unconvinced look. Clint’s father might’ve made the mistake of falling for a fair-skinned blonde but not Clint. He’d seen the heartbreak that had resulted. Hell, he’d lived the heartbreak. Thanks, but no thanks.

Dinky Monroe, who could’ve stepped straight out of a photo from the 1800s when prospectors feverishly sought that vein of Alaska gold that would make them rich, waved from the barber chair in the front window of Curl’s Taxidermy/Barber Shop/Beauty Salon and Mortuary. Clint offered a two-fingered salute in return.

Since it was off-season for hunters and there was little in the way of taxidermy work, and no one had died lately, Curl had plenty of time for shaves and hair cuts. A mortician before he’d made the move to Good Riddance, he also served as the town’s undertaker. But considering how few people lived in the area, relatively few died. Upon the occasional death, Curl set up folding chairs in a back room if a viewing was requested.

“Did you hear Dinky’s got a new wife coming in next week?” Dalton said.

Clint laughed and shook his head. “Yeah. My grandmother mentioned it at dinner the other night.” Internet brides had replaced the mail-order brides from times past.

“Your grandmother’s better than a newspaper, isn’t she?”

Clint grinned. His grandmother ran their family and pretty much the village. “My grandmother knows what’s going on, that’s for sure.” He knew without a doubt that she’d hear through the grapevine about Tessa Bellingham. Then he’d be in for one of their “talks.” The “talks” had started when Clint was seven and had been an ongoing part of his relationship with his grandmother.

The wind had picked up and the snow blew harder. Clint had to really hold Kobuk in check. As far as the dog was concerned, the cold and snow was a perk of the job.

At the other end of Main Street, they hooked a right and made quick work of delivering Clive’s generator.

“Okay, let’s get back and grab a bite to eat before it gets nasty,” Dalton said. “We’ll probably have to get a late start tomorrow depending on what the storm does.”

“No problem. We’ll work around it.” As far as Clint was concerned, the less time he spent in an isolated cabin with his client, the better.

WHILE MERRILEE FIELDED A phone call, Tessa crossed to the pot-bellied stove and sipped at the warm tea. It felt good going down.

She studied the big open room. It was certainly different from the southwestern style she was used to. Here, the wood walls, ceiling and scarred but highly polished floor set the tone. Two windows overlooked the airstrip out back while another two windows showcased the street beyond. Flowered flannel curtains trimmed in off-white lace hung at the windows—they matched Merrilee’s shirt, she realized.

In the back right corner, a desk held paperwork, the phone, and a radio—apparently command central for Good Riddance airstrip. A large calendar, with notations in colored markers, filled the wall-space to the right of the desk.

The opposite corner held a television with two arm chairs and a loveseat scattered around a coffee table. It reminded Tessa of the cozy “reading centers” found in upscale bookstores across the country.

A “Welcome to Good Riddance, AK” sign hung over both the front and back doors. Two padded rocking chairs flanked the pot-bellied stove and another rocker sat before a checker/chess table. From the left front corner, a staircase led to the second floor where she was sure the bedrooms were. Three bistro tables draped in tablecloths that matched the curtains occupied the right corner.

And there were framed photographs—lots and lots of them covering the walls, some in color, some in black and white. Large round braided rugs anchored and defined each section of the room in lieu of walls. Between the bistro tables and the potbellied stove stood a door with “Welcome to Gus’s” painted on it. Tessa could hear the muted sound of music, conversation and laughter on the other side.

Her flight out of Tucson had been early this morning … and the layover at LAX had been long. Having gotten her bearings in the room, she sank into the rocker next to the stove’s warmth. Her initial excitement at having arrived gave way to a tugging lethargy.

Merrilee ended her call. “Sorry about that. Would you rather eat first or shower first? The bath’s upstairs and the food’s next door.” The older woman’s smile was infectious.

“A shower would be wonderful, especially since after tomorrow they’ll be in short supply for a few days.”

“I hear you. A shower it is, then. Right this way.”

Tessa pushed out of the rocking chair and followed Merrilee up the wooden stairs to the second floor. Once again, as with the downstairs, the walls and ceilings were all a light, varnished wood. There was something very soothing about all of the wood.

Merrilee ushered her into a room which she instantly fell in love with. A quilt in shades of lavenders, pinks, and yellows covered a queen-size bed. The simple nightstand and dresser were topped with crocheted doilies. Lace-trimmed flannel curtains hung at the windows. A faint aroma of lavender scent ed the air.

Tessa smoothed her fingers over the obviously hand-made quilt, memories surfacing. “I love it. It’s warm and cozy without being fussy.” It reminded her of the bedroom her parents had shared.

“Thank you. That’s what I was aiming for.” Merrilee looked about her in obvious satisfaction. “It just got an overhaul. The roof caved in last month and I figured while we were doing repairs we’d do a little mini-makeover.”

“Well, it’s simply lovely. I’ll enjoy staying here tonight.”

Merrilee beamed. “Wonderful. Now, the bathroom is communal and it’s at the end of the hall.”

“Communal works, especially considering there won’t be any running water tomorrow night.” Tessa laughed. “I’ve had quite some experiences in my travels.”

Merrilee peered at her from perfectly arched brows. “How’d you get started in this business? It’s sort of an unusual occupation.”

Tessa knew she had one of the coolest jobs ever filming and putting together ambient videos. Granted she wasn’t performing brain surgery but she’d like to think that what she did made a positive difference in people’s lives. Whether it was a video of sunrises over beaches or waterfalls from around the world, she hoped it brought the viewer a feeling of calm and peace and the opportunity to see something they might not otherwise see or experience.

“It was just a lucky break. I answered an internet ad and found out I liked all the travel and I was good at it.” Tessa smiled and shrugged. “The rest, as they say, is history.”

“Do you ever get tired of the travel?” Merrilee perched on the edge of a small armchair upholstered in a sunny yellow fabric with pink accent piping.

Tessa settled on the bed, feeling at ease with this woman she’d just met. Perhaps it was because the room had evoked childhood memories or it may have just been that Merrilee reminded Tessa of her mother. Whatever it was, she felt a connection with this woman she experienced with few others.

“Sometimes—” she paused “—even though I have a place in Tucson, it’s never really felt like home. Do you know what I mean?” She probably just sounded like a nut but there was a flicker of recognition and acknowledgment in the other woman’s eyes.

“Honey, I grew up in the south and I obviously still have a lot of the south in me, but I never really felt like I belonged there. When I landed here in my motor home, I just knew it was the oddest thing—this was it. This was home.” Her smile was full of reminiscence and affection. “Although there wasn’t jack all here at the time.”

Tessa found herself nodding in acknowledgement. “That’s it exactly. I almost feel as if I’m on a quest.” She smiled past the tug of melancholy. “I figure with all of this travel, sooner or later I’ll find where I belong. And if not, well, I’ll just continue to be a child of the planet, huh?”

Tessa could tell the other woman totally got her.

“Are your folks in Tucson?”

“No. They died when I was eight and I moved to Tucson to live with my mom’s aunt and uncle.” She’d learned over the years that brevity worked best when talking about her parents, because the sad tale always made other people uncomfortable. “It was a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry. Losing parents is never easy. I was fifty when I lost mine and it still was difficult.”

For some crazy reason, Tessa almost choked up. She simply nodded.

“Is there a boyfriend waiting back in Tucson?” Merrilee asked, obviously respecting her wishes not to discuss her parents’ deaths.

“No. Most of them can’t handle the travel and it’s just easier to keep strong attachments out of relationships.” It had hurt too much when she’d lost her parents and then Aunt Lucy and Uncle Ted had died within months of each other. She never wanted to experience that depth of loss again. Ever. She didn’t even allow herself to become attached to a pet.

Merrilee simply nodded but her gaze was shrewd and understanding. Tessa looked away, feeling almost embarrassed by how much of herself she’d just revealed. “I think I’m ready for that shower,” she said, bringing the conversation back to less personal issues. Not that showering wasn’t personal, but it certainly wasn’t soul revealing.

“One hot shower coming right up,” Merrilee said as she pushed to her feet.

CLINT FOLLOWED DALTON back into the airstrip office, stopping by the door to clean Kobuk’s paws. In an example of weird timing, Bull showed up right behind them. The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee and the fire’s heat offered a welcome from the dark cold outside.

Merrilee looked up from where she sat at her desk, filling out paperwork. “Grab a cup of hot coffee.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Bull said.

Dalton nodded. “The wind’s really picking up out there.”

“It came up sudden, but I think it’s going to be a doozey,” Merrilee said.

Clint scanned the room again but Tessa was nowhere to be found.

“Tessa’s upstairs taking advantage of a hot show er,” Merrilee said. The woman didn’t miss a thing. She turned her attention back to Dalton and the flight schedules.

People took showers all the time. He took showers frequently. But Merrilee’s words conjured up an image of Tessa Bellingham he’d rather not have. He could see her standing beneath the water, head thrown back, water sluicing over her pale nakedness, her silvery blonde hair darkened by the shower’s deluge. From the moment she’d slipped out of her parka, he’d been mesmerized by the curve of her hips, the indent of her waist and the fullness of her breasts. She had a ripe woman’s figure.

Standing around thinking of Tessa naked in the shower, however, was a bad idea. A very bad idea. And hopefully she wouldn’t run the hot water out. He could use a shower himself.

He’d decided to bunk down at the B & B so they could get an early start the following morning. Now, with the storm blowing in, it was just as well. His cabin was quite a ways out of town, and often Merrilee offered him his bed for free when one of the people who’d contracted his guide services stayed the night at her place. Clint always made sure, however, that she wasn’t full when he snagged a bed at her place. He didn’t want to do her out of a paying customer when she insisted on giving him his room for free. She maintained it was payback because she picked up plenty of business due to his guide service.

Overhead the water stopped. While Merrilee finished up paperwork, he busied himself feeding Kobuk his evening ration and refilling the malamute’s water bowl. However, the mundane tasks didn’t stop him from imagining the woman upstairs drying off, dragging one of the thick, fluffy towels over her neck and shoulder, down her arms, over her breasts, between her thighs and down her legs. He tried mentally running through the supply list he’d put together for their trip but he still couldn’t shake the image of her drying herself.

Exasperated with himself, he pulled out the actual list itself and sat in one of the chairs next to the wood stove. Concentrating still wasn’t easy. Within a few minutes Tessa made her way down the stairs. Her hair was beginning to dry to a lighter shade where it swung against the curve of her cheek.

A knot of unwelcome want clenched low in his belly. Free of makeup, her skin was clean and fresh, and her green eyes reminded him of spruce bowers. She crossed the room and sat in the rocking chair next to his. She smelled of soap, shampoo and woman. Clint tried to brush aside the awareness coursing through him. He’d been a guide for a long time. He’d had a huge range of clients, some of whom had been attractive, young women but he’d always maintained a detachment. But from the moment Tessa had walked through the door, his detachment had been shattered and he couldn’t seem to piece it back together.

“You wanted to go over our plans for tomorrow?” she asked.

“We need to review your supply list to make sure nothing’s been left off.”

“I guess there’s not exactly a Walmart across the street where we’re headed, is there?”

Clint found himself laughing. “There’s not even a street.”

Her quick smile tugged at him. “Perfect. It sounds as if it’s just the place I need to film.”

“You know there’s no running water.”

She slanted him an amused glance. “Of course, we discussed it in the email. Mr. Sisnuket—”

“Clint. Everyone calls me Clint.”

She dipped her head. “Okay. Clint. I just want to make it clear that I know what I’m getting into. I’ve traveled to some very remote places under fairly primitive conditions to make my videos. I get it. No electricity. No running water. I’m good with that. All the correspondence we exchanged—that was me. I’m tougher than I obviously must look. I’m not a weak link and I’m not a prima donna. I can hold my own on this trip.”

That remained to be seen. “Okay.”

“I know you’re not convinced—” he wasn’t but he didn’t think she knew that “—but I’d appreciate you bringing an open mind to this … the whole not judging a book by its cover thing.”

He was fairly quick but it took a second for Clint to realize that she’d pretty much just accused him of bigotry. Indignation rolled through him. He’d had his first rancid taste of bigotry at the hands of his mother’s family when he’d moved with her to Montreal.

His mother who’d shown up in Good Riddance with a film crew from Montreal. His father should have known better. Should have known the woman from the city with her fair skin and hair would never truly adapt to native life in a small Alaskan village. His father should’ve known, but he’d listened to his heart rather than his head, and against his family and tribe’s wishes, he’d married Georgina Wallace. A year later Clint had been born.

When Clint was five his mother had thrown in the towel on her marriage and living in the Alaskan wilds and moved back to Montreal. It had been a horrible experience for Clint. He missed his father and his extended family, especially his cousin Nelson, who was almost as close as a brother to him, as well as the lifestyle. It hadn’t helped that his mother’s family thought she’d married beneath her, and they certainly hadn’t welcomed a half-breed child who looked full native.

And as if he hadn’t learned his lesson well enough, when he’d gone to college at the University of Alaska, he’d been involved with Carrie, a blue-eyed blonde who’d eventually told him she could never get serious with him since she couldn’t deal with having mixed race children.

So, if Tessa wanted to know what it was like to be judged by her looks alone, he could tell her about that all day long. He opened his mouth to say just that … and then snapped it shut. She was right. He’d been perfectly comfortable with taking T. S. Bellingham on this trip. Through their correspondence, he’d ascertained T.S. was competent and knew precisely what to expect from the trip. However, he’d taken one look at the curvy blonde with the delicate features and decided she was going to be problematic and incompetent. Not only had he displayed bigoted behavior, he’d brought his own set of prejudices with him and found her lacking without even giving her a chance.

This time when he opened his mouth, he offered an apology. “You’re right. I’m sorry about that. I’ve definitely been on the receiving end. I suppose sometimes it’s easy to see in others what’s so difficult to spot in ourselves.”

She smiled. Pure. Spontaneous. Lovely. And his heart responded of its own accord, soaring like the mighty eagle, his animal totem, his animal brother.

“Wow. You really are a rare breed of man, Clint Sisnuket.”

“How’s that?”

Her smile pushed his soaring to new heights. “You’re a man … and you just apologized.”

Unfortunately for him, he was all too aware of just how much of a man he was … and just how much of a woman he was sitting next to. Soaring was a very bad idea.

3

WHILE THE OTHERS CHATTED to one another in the airstrip office, Merrilee pushed her glasses to the bridge of her nose and tried to relax. She’d been as nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof ever since she’d gotten that stupid letter postmarked from Georgia three and a half weeks ago. “It’s been a long time. We have things we need to talk about. I’m ready to give you what you want.” The words were practically burned into her brain. The only thing she wanted from him at this point was an obituary notice—his.

“Penny for them,” Bull said, interrupting her reverie. He gave her a long scrutinizing look from his sherry-colored eyes. That had been the first thing she’d noticed when she met Bull Swenson twenty-five years ago. Her grandmother had kept sherry on her sideboard in a cut-crystal decanter. As a child, Merrilee had thought nothing was prettier than when the sun’s rays turned the liquid to molten golden brown. When she’d first gazed into Bull’s eyes, and it had been like staring at sun-lit sherry. In that instant, she’d been done for.

Now anxiety tightened her chest. Bull meant everything to her. What would happen if he found out that she hadn’t been honest with him? How would he react if he found out part of their relationship was predicated on a lie?

She forced a laugh. “Just a penny? No way. You’ll have to ante up more than that. I may be easy, but Merrilee Weatherspoon is not cheap, sir.”

Bull laughed along with her but there was a watchfulness about his weathered face that told her that he knew her well enough to sense her unrest. Luckily the two-way radio chose that moment to crackle to life.

She gave the transmission a go ahead and then couldn’t believe what she heard. Dalton and Bull stared open-mouthed. She asked for a repeat. Nope they’d all heard right. Despite the impending storm, a plane was enroute from Anchorage, requesting permission to land at Good Riddance. Someone was in for a rough ride. And though they were booked slap-dab full at the bed and breakfast, there was no way she could refuse an incoming plane landing in light of the storm. She radioed back an affirmative.

She looked at Bull, Dalton, Clint and Tessa Bellingham.

Bull quirked a speculative eyebrow. “Someone’s either crazy as a shithouse rat or desperate.”

“Maybe both. I hope whoever is flying that plane charged double—” Dalton glanced out the window at the wind kicking up a dust storm of snow “—make that triple.”

“It’s Durden,” Merrilee said, identifying the pilot by the information in the landing request.

Clint nodded. “Durden’s a little bit of both. And he’ll have to stay over too.”

Dalton leaned against the edge of the desk. “Yep. Nobody will be flying out in this tonight.”

Merrilee forced a smile. “Good thing we keep extra sleeping bags on hand.” She glanced over at Bull. “And if need be I can bunk over at your place.”

“Anytime. All the time,” he said. She and Bull had always maintained separate residences. It just seemed to work better that way even though she knew he wished they shared the same roof all the time. He’d asked her to marry him more times than she could shake a stick at.

Bull was a good man. Even though she’d fallen for him hard the first time she’d met him, she’d spent the next several years waiting to discover that beneath it all, he was a jerk, that ultimately he’d let her down. Twenty-five years later, she’d finally accepted he wouldn’t let her down. Far from being a jerk, he’d proved himself a man of integrity. When Bull gave his word on something, you could count on it. In Bull’s book, a man was only as good as his word.

“Y’all might as well head on over to Gus’s and grab some dinner while I wait on these fools to show up,” Merrilee said. As much as anything, she needed some time alone. “No need in everyone being hungry.”

“I’ll bring you a plate over,” Bull said. “You hungry for anything in particular?”

“Whatever today’s special is will be fine.” She actually had no appetite but that would simply have Bull scrutinizing her more closely since she hardly ever missed a meal.

“I’ll be back in a few.”

Clint, Tessa, Dalton and Bull used the pass-thru door, giving her a few minutes alone.

Merrilee gnawed at the inside of her cheek. Sometimes when the truth went untold, the longer it lay there the deeper it became buried.

But now the skeletons in Merrilee’s closet were beginning to rattle and she didn’t like it a bit. Not even a little.

Tessa looked around her, drawn in by all of the noise, scents and general good fun. They’d walked through the adjoining doors between the airfield and the eatery and Tessa instantly loved it. She was totally digging the old-fashioned bar, complete with brass footstand, lined with an assortment of customers, most of them rugged and a bit rough around the edges. Booths and tables fought for floor space with pool tables, a small stage and a dart board. It was somewhere between a throw-down bar and an upscale diner which meant it defied definition. That made her like it all the more. Uniqueness drew her like nothing else did.

Dean Martin crooned over a speaker system and the smells coming from the kitchen were heavenly.

Tessa was terrible at guessing ages, but a woman who appeared to be in her mid to late-twenties approached, a welcoming smile on her face. With her dark hair accented by one bold streak of white in front, she wasn’t so much pretty as she was striking. She extended a hand, “Hi. Welcome, I’m Gus.”

Tessa took the woman’s hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Tessa Bellingham.” Gus had a nice, firm handshake. “It smells great in here.” Tessa smiled. “I’m suddenly very aware that lunch was a long time ago.” As if to lend credence to her words, her stomach issued a loud growl.

Everyone laughed and Gus said, “So it seems. We’ll fix you right up. With the storm coming in we’re pretty crowded tonight. Do you mind sharing a table? Skye and Nelson have a big table over near the pool tables.”

Skye was the name of Dalton Saunders’s fiancée. Tessa would like to meet her. “Table sharing is fine with me. The more the merrier.”

Bull spoke up. “Gus, how about you put together two plates of today’s special for me and Merrilee. She’s waiting on some idiot to fly in before this storm really hits. I’ll keep her company while she’s manning the airstrip.”

“Give us a second and we can pull that together for you,” Gus said. She turned back to the rest of them. “I’ll send Teddy over to take your orders.”

Gus bustled off in the direction of the open kitchen that overlooked the bar area and dining room. Dalton led the way through the dining room tables, with Clint bringing up the rear. Oddly enough, Tessa was infinitely more aware of Clint behind her than all of the other people in the room. It was as if she was tuned into his energy.

They reached the table and Dalton kissed a pretty woman—his fiancée, Tessa guessed—with pale freckled skin, brilliant blue eyes and striking curly red hair. Skye Shanahan and Dalton Saunders made a cute couple.

The man sitting at the table with Skye had long, black hair pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, and his high cheekbones and skin tone indicated he was a native. Skye introduced him to Tessa as Nelson Sisnuket, Clint’s cousin and Skye’s assistant. Both Skye and Nelson made Tessa feel welcome and comfortable.

Skye smiled at Tessa across the table. “Unless you have issues with meat or wild game, you really should try the moose ragout. It’s great.”

Tessa nodded. “The moose ragout it is, then. When I’m someplace new, I like to try the local dishes.”

Nelson laughed. “That’s about as local as you can get. And the moose is fresh.” He shot Skye a teasing look. “It was just delivered yesterday.”

A flush of red crawled up Skye’s neck and face. Dalton chuckled. Clint offered a slow smile that sent a shiver down her spine.

“The moose came from a fellow who trespassed on Dalton’s property,” Nelson said, “and worse, he tried to poach Skye, as well. He offered the moose as restitution and Dalton had him send it to Gus.”

Dalton grinned and shrugged. “Hey, we eat here often enough. I don’t cook, and well, let’s just say we’re better off with Gus cooking the moose than Skye.”

“Watch it, buddy,” Skye said with a laugh.

“So, he was going to give you a moose?” Tessa was still stuck on that bit.

Skye rolled her eyes. “I thought it was really weird at first too. Frighteningly, you soon get used to the way things are done in Good Riddance. The town has a way of winding its way into your heart.”

“I thought it was me,” Dalton said. “Now you’re telling me it’s really just the town you came back for.”

The teasing interplay between the couple was fun and stirred a longing inside Tessa. It made her all the more conscious of Clint, who was sitting to her right.

Nelson shook his head in Tessa’s direction. “Good Riddance can have that effect on some people. Gus came four years ago and never did go back to New York.”

“Gus is the best thing that ever happened to Good Riddance,” Dalton said.

“You are so sleeping on the couch tonight,” Skye said.

“Sorry, honey, it’s my stomach talking instead of my heart.”

Tessa laughed aloud and Dalton shot her a grin. “Just wait. You are in for a treat.”

Skye nodded. “Gus trained in Paris.”

“Wow. And she wound up here?”

“I told you,” Nelson said, “Good Riddance has that effect on people.”

“And sometimes the infatuation with wilderness living wears off after a while. Not everyone who decides to move here winds up staying,” Clint said. His tone was neutral but there was something about him, the way he held his body, that made her think there was some personal story behind his words.

“No doubt about it, Good Riddance can be an acquired taste,” Dalton said.

It was early on but so far Tessa liked what she’d seen of Good Riddance. Clint’s arm brushed against hers and an awareness quivered through her. There were some things in Good Riddance she liked more than others, and unfortunately for her peace of mind, the man sitting next to her was at the top of that list.

SWEET JESUS, HAVE MERCY! Merrilee eyed the man in front of her with a mixture of loathing and contempt. It had been twenty-five years since she’d seen him and it still wasn’t long enough. Of course, she’d pretty much counted on never seeing his sorry ass again and this was still too soon. However, it appeared to be Theodore Jackson Weatherspoon, better known as Tad, standing in the airstrip office.

At least she was fairly certain it was Tad … or maybe just some very bad approximation thereof. The overhead light glinted off his poorly placed hair plugs, and he’d dyed the whole mess some funky orangish-yellow color she supposed was meant to be a shade of blonde. And that was all set off by his spray-on tan. And while Tad had favored button-down Ralph Lauren paired with khakis, this fool was wearing a graphic T-shirt that had obviously come from one of those mall stores which catered to teens and twenty-somethings. And what was he thinking wearing jeans that hung low on his hips? Better yet, what was he thinking with the twenty-something with the collagen lips and silicon boobs hanging on his arm?

“Wassup, Merrilee?”

“Tad?” She nearly pinched herself to verify this wasn’t some crazy nightmare, although she’d blessedly not dreamed of Tad in all the time since she’d left him.

He grinned like the total jackass he was. “Not bad for a fifty-one-year-old, huh?”

“Except you’re not fifty-one, ace. You’re sixty-three.”

The blonde next to Tad pursed her lips in equal parts of displeasure and surprise. “Sixty-three, Daddy?”

“Merrilee’s confused, baby doll.” Tad patted Ba by Doll’s hand then turned to Merrilee with what she supposed was intended to be a charming boyish smile. “You never were very good at math, were you, Merry?”

She wanted to instruct him to kiss her lily-white ass but under the circumstances she figured she had to play relatively nice. She did not, however, intend to lie down and roll over. He might have the upper hand, to some extent, but he was still on her turf. “Don’t call me Merry.”

Before Tad could respond, Bull came through the connecting door from Gus’s carrying two plates. She could see him sizing up the newcomers as he crossed the room and placed the plates on the desk. He nodded and introduced himself, offering his hand, “Bull Swenson.”

“Tad Weatherspoon,” the jackass said, shaking Bull’s hand.

Of course he recognized the name, he’d only known about Tad for nearly twenty-five years. Bull slanted a quick glance Merrilee’s way before saying to Tad, “Ah, the ex-husband, huh?”

It was Tad’s turn to glance at Merrilee. “In the flesh.”

“This is Jenna,” Tad said, motioning to the woman at his side as if he was presenting a prize ribbon at the county fair.

“I’m his fiancée,” Baby Doll, nee Jenna, said, holding out her hand, not to offer a handshake but to flash her three-carat, Princess-cut diamond. Merrilee could still size up a diamond from across the room. Tad had obviously gone for quantity rather than quality as the clarity was poor, but she doubted Baby Doll knew the difference.

“Pleased to meet you, Jenna. Nice ring.” Bull, ever the gentleman, despite his rough-around-the-edges appearance, admired the jewelry.

“She wanted bling, so she got bling,” Tad said.

Bling? Oh, boy.

“Are you hungry, Jenna, honey?” Merrilee asked, and continued without waiting for the younger woman to respond. “And I bet you could use a drink after what was surely a bumpy ride. Bull, why don’t you take Jenna over to Gus’s while Tad and I sort out their arrangements for tonight.”

It was thin, but it was the best she could do on short order. However, Bull’s expression clearly told her she had some explaining to do before the evening ended.

The door had barely closed behind them when she faced Tad. “What do you want?” She had no idea how much time she had with him alone and there was no point in beating around the bush.

“Well, hell, Merry, it’s been twenty-five years and that’s the best you can do?”

She’d told him not to call her Merry but that darn sure wasn’t a hill to die on. She let it slide. “Tad, let’s get something straight right up front. If you breathe a word to a single soul here that we’re still married, I’ll gut you like a bottom-feeding catfish.”

“I THINK THAT’S THE BEST meal I ever had,” Tessa said, her eyes sparkling, her smile genuine and altogether sexy, as she and Clint made their way through the restaurant.

Unfortunately for Clint, she eclipsed every other woman in the room. “Every meal is that way. Gus knows her way around a kitchen.”

Across the room he spotted Bull with a woman who looked as if she’d taken a wrong turn on her way to a day at the spa—not your typical Good Riddance visitor. Glancing up, Bull caught Clint’s eye. The other man looked grim—well, a little grimmer than usual.

Clint held the door for Tessa to precede him back into the air strip office. Dinner had been great and it was rather disconcerting how much he’d enjoyed her company. She had fit right in with Skye, Dalton, and Nelson. But he had to admit he was damn curious as to who had flown in with the Barbie over at the bar under these conditions.

As he and Tessa walked into the airstrip office, they were clearly interrupting a conversation between Merrilee and an older man who looked very strange. Merrilee turned to face them, the smile on her face not quite reaching her eyes. “How was dinner?”

At his side, Tessa glanced from Merrilee to the stranger, obviously sensing the same level of tension Clint had. “Great.”

“Good, good. Tessa, Clint, this is Tad Weatherspoon. Tad, Clint Sisnuket and Tessa Bellingham. Clint’s one of our best local guides and Tessa flew in this afternoon from Tucson. She shoots and produces great ambient videos. In fact I’ve been enjoying one of her beach videos. It’s just like being at Orange Beach down in Alabama.”

Weatherspoon? And Merrilee was talking a lot even for Merrilee. Tad Weatherspoon had shaken Merrilee and that was a pretty damn hard thing to do. He’d known Merrilee to be animated and outgoing but for the most part she was unflappable. Except now.

“Pleased to meet you,” Tad said with a smile that revealed obviously over-bleached teeth. “I’m the reason Merry moved to Alaska. When she runs, she runs, wouldn’t you say?”

Merrilee offered a tight smile. “A continent apart has proved to be a good plan.”

Clint wasn’t even sure what to say to any of this. He opted for, “Well, we’re all glad she wound up here.”

“Yep, Merry always was bossy as hell so having her own town to run is right up her alley. Say, if you’re a guide maybe you can show me and Jenna, my fiancée, around some this week. You probably saw her next door.” He smirked. “I can’t wait to see what Merry’s done with the place.”

Merrilee jumped in before Clint could respond.

“Clint’s booked for the week,” Merrilee said. “And I’m sure you don’t plan to be here very long.”

Clint had the distinct impression a cat and mouse game was being played between Merrilee and her ex-husband. What wasn’t clear, however, was who was the mouse and who was the cat.

“We’re flexible,” Tad said, shrugging and flashing his pearly whites once again. “Then I guess you’ll have to line us up with another tour guide … or you can always show us around yourself.”

Merrilee forced a smile. “That’s not going to work out.”

“Who knows, we might decide we like Good Riddance so much we don’t want to leave.”

Clint glanced at Tessa who was watching the byplay with wide eyes. Things had certainly gotten interesting in Good Riddance in the past three hours.

4

TESSA ROLLED OVER AGAIN and glanced at the bedside clock. After midnight. She was tired. By all accounts and purposes she should already be asleep. Instead she was wide awake and restless.

It was as if everyone she’d met tonight was flowing through her brain and she couldn’t stop thinking about them. She traveled frequently and met lots of new people, but she’d never felt as engaged by new acquaintances as she had with the citizens of Good Riddance.

And at the top of the engaging-people heap was Clint Sisnuket who happened to be in the room next door. At least tonight there was a wall between them. Tomorrow night they’d be sharing a single-room cabin. The mere thought set her pulse racing.

She hadn’t been prepared for the sheer impact when she met the man. Those dark eyes, the high, flat cheek bones, the beautiful hue of his skin, the glossy darkness of his hair, the rich cadence of his voice all tripped her trigger.

And in return she couldn’t figure him out. He’d been almost hostile when she’d first met him, but then a couple of times over dinner, she could’ve sworn he was as attracted to her as she was to him. And she supposed in the long run none of it mattered because she was simply here to do her job and then move on to the next location.

Feeling thoroughly out of sorts with herself and the fact that she couldn’t sleep, she pushed aside the quilt and sheet and climbed out of bed. It was chilly outside the covers but she welcomed the cold. She’d worn thick, wool, hiking socks in bed, and now that she was up, her feet felt warm. In an effort to pack light, she hadn’t bothered with pajamas and instead was sleeping in thermal bottoms and top. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she wandered over to the window and looked out.

Outside the wind howled and snow swirled like white confetti being blown out of a machine. It took her a few seconds to realize that no lights lit the single street running through the town’s center. She rather liked the way it looked with just the rushing snow. Something she couldn’t name shifted inside her.

Without giving it a second thought, she grabbed one of her cameras and started shooting through the window. It would probably never make it to one of her videos but she wanted it for herself because there was something very moving about the place at this moment.

Satisfied with what she’d captured on film, she turned the camera off. As she leaned forward, her warm breath fogged the glass. She smiled at her whimsical impulse to trace her initials there the way she used to in the freezer section of the grocery store when she went shopping with her mother. There was definitely something about this room, this place, that evoked childhood memories, memories from the time before she lost her parents.

Tessa put the camera away and crossed to the door. She cautiously opened it to the landing. Merrilee had given her room to the pilot—Tessa couldn’t remember his name—who’d flown in Merrilee’s ex-husband and his fiancée. Actually, Tessa was pretty sure Merrilee appreciated having an excuse not to sleep under the same roof with Tad Weatherspoon.

Tessa didn’t blame Merrilee at all. Tad left a lot to be desired with his big mouth, hair plugs and spray-on tan. The couple was in the room at the opposite end of the hall.

Moving quietly, Tessa eased her bedroom door closed behind her. She made her way down the hall to the communal bathroom guided by a hall nightlight and one in the bathroom, wincing when one of the floorboards creaked loudly beneath her weight.

She finished her bathroom business and smiled as she washed her hands in the sink that replicated an old-fashioned wash basin. She liked Merrilee’s flannel-and-lace shower curtain. It brought a touch of whimsy and softened all the wood in the room without being overwhelmingly feminine and fussy.

Tessa was returning to her room when Clint opened his door and stepped out.

The hall quite suddenly became very tight quarters since he had obviously rolled out of bed and pulled on just a pair of blue jeans and flannel shirt. His jeans were zipped but his shirt hung open, revealing a broad chest well sculpted with muscle. Like men from many native cultures, he had very little body hair, or at least none she could see on his chest.

Tessa forced herself not to stare in the low lighting but her heart thumped in her chest like a wild thing. She had only thought he was potently sexy before. Now she knew.

“Excuse me,” she murmured, for lack of anything else to say. Something desperately needed to be said, otherwise she’d probably continue to stare at him like a hungry cat eyeing a tin of sardines. For crying out loud, you’d think she’d never seen a man with his shirt open. She had. Plenty of them, in fact. It was just that none of them had been this man and none of them had looked like he did.

“Trouble sleeping?” he asked in a low tone. The shadowed hallway accentuated the angles and planes of his face, the intensity of his dark eyes.

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