EDGE (12 page)

It was freaking freezing here.

Her mother had no right to make her come here. She could have stayed with her dad. Then she would be with Derrick and her friends. There was nobody worth knowing here. She crawled over her foam mattress to the puny little window and pushed it open a little further. If it wasn’t so blasted cold outside, she could open it all the way. She lit a cigarette and inhaled. A cough followed, but she was getting better at this. The first time she’d smoked, she’d thought she was going to barf. The second time wasn’t as bad and Derrick had thought she’d looked hot.

She couldn’t wait until she was eighteen and then she could live on her own. Do what she wanted and not have to listen to her mother. What did her mom know anyway? It wasn’t like she had done anything worthwhile in her life.

That wasn’t going to be her. No freaking way. She had plans. She wasn’t going to get married and be stuck with kids.

She wanted to go to Europe. Fall in love a few times with men that were totally inappropriate.

Men like
him
.

Right there below her window was that hot guy, Tom. She’d sat next to him on the way to this godforsaken place. Emily inched to the side of the window for a better vantage point.

He had black hair slicked back, like a polished Ian Somerhalder. The collar of his charcoal wool jacket was flipped up around his neck. He pulled out a package of cigarettes from his inside breast pocket and shook one free. Placing it in between his lips, he cupped his hands around the end and lit it. His eyes squinted as he blew smoke out of his nostrils.

No cough.

Man, he was hot. His friend with the cane joined him and they started talking. The wind was blowing the wrong direction and Emily couldn’t pick up what they were saying, but the cool guy wasn’t happy with the older one. Then the older one got in his face. The cool guy—she decided to call him Slick, Tom was such a preppy name—swore. She knew what that word was without having to hear it. Man, he was pissed. Slick finished smoking his cigarette and crushed it into the ground with the heel of his boot. He peered up at her window as if knowing someone watched. Emily ducked back out of sight, and then cautiously peeked out again.

Now there was someone worth getting prettied up for.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

For this is the will of God, even your sanctification, that ye should abstain from fornication:

~1 THESSALONIANS 4:3

“If you can’t get her to agree, what’s the problem with snapping a few candid shots and writing something to go with it?” Tom asked, going for another cigarette.

All this pristine fresh air and Tom polluted it with carcinogens. “We have the rest of the trip, relax and enjoy yourself,” Cache said.

“The starched shirts wanted me to check in and keep them abreast of what’s going. There’s no Internet service all the way out here and my iPhone has no reception.” Tom lit and then took a deep drag on his cigarette.

“They’ll understand.”

“That’s what you think. I have more to lose than you do. I’m maxed out, Cache. I lose my job and my life is over.”

“You’re what, twenty-nine?” Cache asked. Tom nodded. “Your life isn’t over at twenty-nine. I don’t care what kind of situation you’re in. You’ll be able to get another job somewhere.”

“Not making what I’m making now. Especially, when word gets out that we messed up this sweet assignment. The publishing world is a small one. I need you to nail this for me, Cache.”

“No guarantees, Tom.” With that, Cache left Tom to smoke another cigarette. The kid had to learn to roll with the punches or he wouldn’t make it in this business. The starched shirts had Tom scared stupid. They knew where to tighten the screws. It wouldn’t work with Cache, but by scaring the shit out of Tom—whom Cache had an affection for—they were getting to him too.

Bastards.

When he got back to New York, he’d have a few words to say to them. They just might be, “Take this job and shove it.”

Cache returned to his room to get his camera, his stomach tied in knots over his conversation with Tom. All he wanted was to lose himself with his camera for a while. He planned to sit out on the deck, dressed for the weather, and see what might wander by. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed taking pictures of animals, and landscapes. The part of Alaska he’d seen so far had plenty of both.

He entered his room and found Mel bent over his bed, pulling the covers up. Now there was a picture worth taking.

She turned and saw him standing in the doorway. “I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”

“Don’t hurry on my account,” he said, enjoying the sight of her so close to his bed.

She picked up a pillow and fluffed it a bit more than it needed. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“That it’s a shame to make a bed we could crawl into?”

“Let’s get some things clear. I never fraternize with guests.” She dropped the pillow she’d been fluffing onto the bed.

It was the dropping of the pillow that had him moving toward her like she’d just waved a red cape. “Have never or would never?” He picked up the other pillow and threw it on the bed to lie next to the one she’d just laid there.

“Never and…well…never.”

“You know what they say about never saying never.”

She gave a short bark of laughter. “Except when I say never—”

He leaned in and kissed her.

Mel froze, and he had a moment’s worry he’d moved too fast, but then she softened toward him, as though as curious about him as he was about her.

All coherent thought vaporized. She tasted like sugar and cinnamon, sweet with a kick, and he wanted to dive in.

Mel tore her mouth from his. “That was a bad idea,” she said, her voice velvety. She pulled away from him, and he reluctantly let her go. “I’m too much trouble for you, Cache.”

“I like trouble,” he said. “It’s like spice. Makes everything taste better.”

“This isn’t spice, it’s fire, and if you play with fire, you get burned. Getting burned leaves scars.”

He lightly traced his finger down the scar visible on her forearm. He knew from police reports the scar was one of many sliced into her skin by Jedidiah Dawson. She jerked her arm away.

“Can you honestly tell me that flirting with the flames doesn’t tempt you?” he asked.

“It tempts me too much.”

He reached out again and when she didn’t pull away he linked his fingers with hers.

She suddenly tightened her fingers around his and locked palms. Something dangerous and tantalizing sizzled between them. She grabbed his hair with her other hand, and pulled his head down, fusing her mouth to his.

Again, his world took a trip. Dizzying and breathless, he pulled her body flush against him. He walked her backward to the edge of the bed and followed her down on to it.

“Ground rules,” she said, tearing her mouth from his. “Before this goes any further.”

It took a moment for him to clear his head and pay attention. “Okay, let’s hear them.”

“This is casual. No strings.”

Wasn’t that the man’s line? “What if I need more?”

“That’s your problem.”

He
could
worry about all of that later, and a large part of himself begged for him to shut the hell up and go with it, but he wanted this sharing of bodies to mean something. To both of them. He was more than an itch. “I don’t do casual,” he said.

“That’s all I can offer. You’ll be gone in less than two weeks.” She twisted out from under him and stood. “Let me know when you’re in the mood for something a little less serious.” She swaggered out of his room without a backward glance.

He was an idiot.

Wrapped in a trench coat, Linnet rapped on Sergei’s door. The Russian had failed to notice her not so subtle come-ons. He wouldn’t mistake this invitation.

A muffled “come in” had her twisting the knob and entering. Sergei lay stretched out on the lower bunk with a book in his big, fisherman’s hands. A lap quilt with a scene of black and gray wolves—Mel had stitched it last winter—covered him, his red stocking feet sticking out from the bottom. She wanted to help warm up that huge body of his and she’d do a better job than that little quilt. He rose onto an elbow as she sauntered into the small bunk room.

“No. Stay right where you are.” Linnet reached for the tie at her waist. “There’s nothing better than spending a cold rainy afternoon in bed.”

Sergei sat up fully and marked the page in his book. “Linnet, now is not good time.” He set the book on an old crate, being used as a bedside table, his muscles moved like storm clouds under his gray herringbone sweater. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Why is that?” she asked, moving farther into the small room. A kerosene heater warmed the area and scented the air with the slight smell of diesel. The smell should have been offensive, but somehow wasn’t. This man, with his big hands and oversized shoulders, didn’t bring to mind delicate smells. Sweat and fuels fit him and had desire rising like a tide within her. “On a day like today, with the wind howling and the ocean pounding, I can’t think of a better time than this.”

“Unless the man was expecting company.” Ramsey’s voice chilled her from the doorway. “You know, Linnet, this could be called sexual harassment.”

Linnet stiffened, but refused to turn around. “Get out of here, old man.”

“I’m not as old as you think, woman. One of these days you’re going to realize it.”

Linnet clamped her teeth shut until pain radiated up into her temples. Why did he always seem to catch her making a fool of herself? From the time he’d caught Jake-the-rake taking a swing at her to the time she’d gotten lost in her own backyard and that old grizzly bear decided he liked the smell of her. Now this.

Sergei stood and pushed his red stocking feet into rolled-down hip waders. “Sorry, Linnet.” His dark eyes did seem to reflect regret. “Please excuse me. I need to check…something.” He rushed out of the bunkhouse and Linnet saw her passion-filled afternoon deflate. Ramsey’s bearded face filled her vision, and it went red around the edges.

“Your underwear is showing,” Ramsey said, motioning to the pink laced edge of the silk teddy peeking from the folds of her coat.

“I want you off my land.”

“Your land? Well, that’s a fine thing. Who helped you build this place? Helped you dig a well and bring in power? I’ve made it possible for you to live here comfortably. What about that, woman?”

“All of that was between you and Jake, and he’s no longer here.” He mumbled something she didn’t catch. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing.” Ramsey smoothed the hairs of his beard. “You and me have been waltzing around each other for years. It’s time we had a coming out.”

“Coming out?” She cocked a hip. “Are you going to tell me you’re gay?”

“What?” Dark bushy brows furrowed over stormy eyes.

Linnet knew Ramsey wasn’t gay, but couldn’t seem to stop herself from needling him. “I’ve never seen you with a woman. Come to think of it, the only companion you hang around with is that mutt of yours.” She shrugged. “People talk.”

His face turned purple, and he opened and closed his mouth like a spawning salmon.

“That’s it, woman.” Ramsey yanked her, with surprising strength, against his chest. “Remember you asked for this.” He kissed her.

The man was not gay, and he didn’t sleep with his dog. Or if he did, that dog was one happy pup. Faster than dry kindling, she ignited. Ramsey agitated her to a state of awareness she’d never felt before. He bit her lower lip and scraped her skin with his rough beard and the sensations expanded.

Had it been that long since she’d been with a man who could set her off?

He yanked her back to arm’s length. She swayed and would have fallen if he still hadn’t held her up. He shook her once, until she gazed up at him. She knew she had a lust-stricken look on her face, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

“You be thinkin’ of that there kiss and what will be followin’ it up. When I return, you and I have some long overdue things to settle.” He let her go and she just stood there not saying a word as he made his way to the door. Once there, he nailed her with his green eyes.