Primal Calling (5 page)

Before she'd finished the sentence, he shucked his underwear and came over her. She opened for him and he fitted himself to her, teasing and rubbing her entrance before plunging in to the hilt. Her breath whooshed out with a guttural sound deep in her throat.

He groaned and stilled, and a little muscle in his jaw ticked. Maybe it was just that it'd been too much time between lovers, but she could feel every long inch of him inside her, filling her. His skin against hers felt on fire. Sensuous, intimate. She wanted to feel more and ran her hands along the tensed muscles of his arms, his chest and abdomen. Over his straining shoulders and down the slopes and planes of his back to his clenched butt.

He trailed kisses down her jaw to the sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder. “Serena.” And then he started to move.

Slowly at first, as if savoring the feeling, he pulled out and then slid back in. With each thrust his pace in creased, his mouth still pressing kisses to her shoulder
and lower. He cupped a breast and brought the tip to his mouth.

The myriad of sensations carried her to an inner zone of heightened awareness. Of the friction of his cock moving inside her, of his lips suckling on her nipple. Of his hand caressing her waist, her hip, behind her knee. Yet at the same time, blinding, primal emotions burst to the surface of her consciousness. Her body spasmed, her hips lifted to meet him, or to stop him, she wasn't sure. She could've sworn she saw lights dance in her vision, blurred by tears.

He cried out and pushed hard into her one last time, and then stilled.

Her body had turned so weak she couldn't even raise an arm to push off his heavy weight. She was breathing hard and her damp skin was cooling in the freezing temperature. He must have noticed her trying to draw a deep breath because he slid off to her side, tucked her against him and pulled their coats and the tarp over them.

Mmm, now she was snuggly warm. Max started snoring lightly behind her, his arm heavy on her waist. After the early morning spy mission, the harrowing plane landing, and the tense emotions she'd experienced all day, she should have sunk into unconsciousness. But her body hummed with energy, and her mind raced with…with what? Excitement? Happiness? She hadn't felt that way about her job—or her life, for that matter—in years.

But her mind also raced with plans for getting to
Barrow tomorrow, somehow. And with following this intriguing man to his hometown and seeing what she could discover about him and his life. She'd charter a plane if she had to.

She shouldn't feel this way. It made no sense. But she wasn't done with Max Taggert, the White Wolf. Not nearly.

T
HE SUN WAS STREAMING
into the plane when Max awoke snuggled against a warm, soft body. And he was mostly naked.

Aw, hell.

He was stiff, and when he tried to slide his numb arm out from under Serena's head, she jerked awake and sat up.

“Ooh,” she moaned, and grabbed her head, then cast a horrified stare his way.

The feeling was mutual.

He checked his watch. After eight already.

As he slipped on his jeans and shirt, Ms. Sandstone disappeared under the tarp and pulled her clothes underneath with her.

Grabbing his parka, he took Mickey outside to take care of business. They needed to get going. But could he risk flying to Nome with Serena in his plane? He couldn't be responsible for one more person's death.

He could still radio for a rescue plane. But how would
he explain that to Serena? She'd suspect something fishy. And if he told her the truth, she'd snicker at his beliefs and tell him there was no such thing as a curse. That his soul had not gone wandering. And that the deaths in his life were just awful coincidences.

Damn Jameson whiskey. Damn her. And damn superstitions.

When he returned to the plane, he radioed his flight plan to Nome and fed Mickey while Serena went outside without a word. Within half an hour they were in the air. The strut held on takeoff, and they made it to Nome safe and sound. In total silence.

Wiping his temple on his sleeve, he released a long breath of relief as he left Serena in the hands of an airport ticket agent. By noon, he'd refueled his Cessna and was headed for Barrow without looking back.

The fact that he had to force himself not to was irrelevant. As was the fact that he couldn't seem to stop thinking about her as he loaded the cargo into his truck and drove into town.

Good riddance.

Serena Sandstone was someone else's problem now.

“Max. We were worried.” Arna greeted him from behind the registration desk of the North Slope Inn in Barrow. “You were supposed to be here yesterday.”

“Yeah, uh…” Max set the box of Jameson whiskey on the nearest table in the small lobby and rubbed the back of his neck. “I was delayed. Can Chris make me a grilled cheese while I bring in your order?”

“Of course.”

Christopher appeared in the kitchen doorway behind the bar wiping his hands on a towel. “Glad to see you're all right, man.” The North Slope Inn was part hotel, part diner and part tavern and a local hangout in Barrow.

Max nodded at him. “And how about an extra one for my grandma while you're at it?”

Chris gave a lazy salute. “You got it, two GCs to go. And I've got a bone I've been saving for Mickey.” He headed back into the kitchen.

Max returned to his truck and unloaded the other box of supplies and the two coolers of meat. As he carried each into the hotel, he remembered Serena wiggling her very fine ass as she hauled one of the coolers out of the plane. And how she'd staunchly sat between the two coolers on his plane's wing all afternoon without complaint.

Dammit, he was thinking about her again.

He deposited the last box of his delivery in the kitchen, grabbed a soft drink from the fridge along with his brown sack of sandwiches and Mickey's bone and headed out to the lobby.

He froze in his tracks.

“Max.” Serena stood at the registration desk, pen poised over the guest book. She clutched the strap of her humongous purse tighter and hitched it higher on her shoulder.

Aw, dammit. He
was
cursed.

“You two know each other?” From behind the registration desk, Arna switched her gaze between Serena and him.

“We met in Anchorage.” The bane of Max's existence smiled at Arna. “In fact, Mr. Taggert is the reason I decided to visit Barrow.” She turned her beautiful smile on him. In the smug curve of her lips was the triumph of a cat licking the last drop of cream. “This trip was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Perhaps you can recommend a clothing store close by?”

“Of course,” Arna answered. “How long are you staying, Ms. Sandstone?”

“Oh, call me Serena. And, I'm not sure. I'm hoping to see the Northern Lights. I've been in Anchorage and Nome the past three weeks and still haven't witnessed the phenomenon.”

Max ground his teeth and glared at the woman. What a load of moose droppings. Pretending to be a tourist? He ought to throw her over his shoulder and dump her at the Wiley Post-Will Rogers Memorial Airport with an order to go away and not come back. Yeah, as if she'd meekly obey him.

“Spring is a good time of year to see the aurora borealis,” Arna spoke hesitantly, catching Max's eye with raised brows.

“Would you like to join me for dinner tonight, Mr. Taggert?” Serena threw the invitation over her shoulder as she inspected the rack of brochures by the door.

Max blinked. Dinner? Like a date? Arna better have a padded room upstairs, because this lady was certifiable if she thought he'd have anything else to do with her. What the Iñupiat called pokreitok—a fool.

But for the first time, he wondered about her reasons
for last night. Had it just been the booze and the cold and fear? Would any warm male have done? He could chalk up the earth-shattering sex to years' worth of abstinence. But what about her? With her looks and career? Staying in hotels all over the world. Always moving on to the next assignment. She had the perfect job for anonymous one-night stands. Last night had probably been just one more foreign experience to her.

“Perhaps your friends could join us,” Serena urged. “You can tell me all about life in the northernmost city in the United States.”

Now she was involving Arna and Chris? She'd try to make him talk about himself and pump acquaintances for info? No way in hell he'd be a party to that.

“Mickey's waiting for me.” He strode out the door, swung into his truck and tore off down the street.

 

“W
ELL.”
For the second time in five minutes Serena kept her television smile pasted on, but she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. She hadn't been prepared to run into Max here. Not now. Not yet. She needed a shower first. And a fresh change of clothes. And a time machine.

If she could, she'd kick herself for being such an idiot last night. Why on earth had she had sex with that knuckle-dragging Neanderthal? Of course, he hadn't made love like a Neanderthal… Or was it just the circumstances of the moment that had made her come apart in his arms?

“I'm afraid I upset his schedule yesterday.” She shrugged and gave the hotel owner a sheepish smile.

The Iñupiat woman, Arna, shrugged. “Don't mind Max. He's always like that.” Arna—short for Arnaaluk, she'd said, which meant Sea Woman—was unsmiling but not unfriendly.

“She's right,” the tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed young man chimed in from behind the bar. “Max keeps to himself mostly. He only speaks to
us
when he has to.” The guy moved out from behind the bar and approached the desk, extending his right hand. “I'm Chris, Arna's husband.”

Serena didn't hide her surprise very well. Chris was visibly younger than his wife, Serena would guess in his mid-twenties to her late-thirties. And where Chris was tall, with twinkling blue eyes, Arna was slightly chubby, with a long, black braid hanging down her back.

He moved behind the desk to put his arm around his wife. “We can still have a celebration tonight. How about we invite some friends over and welcome you to Barrow
in style
.”

She smiled at his little pun on her television show's name.

Arna kept a straight face, but rolled her eyes and nudged her husband with her elbow. “Chris.” But then a look passed between the couple that proclaimed their love for each other louder than words. So much that Serena felt like a third wheel standing there.

Nevertheless, she said, “That would be wonderful.
I'm looking forward to it. But first, I need something to wear.”

Arna handed her a map and marked the clothing store with an X.

“And be careful,” Chris called to her as she headed for the door. “The wind is ferocious, and the sun sets around eight this time of year—be sure you're back before dark. And watch out for ice fog.”

Serena nodded, grateful for the map and the advice, and headed out to her rented SUV.

Hard to believe she was staying in a hotel named the North Slope Inn. Not exactly five-star. If her viewers could see her now. But the room was…serviceable. As was the rest of the hotel. Lots of faux wood paneling and a decor her mother would've kindly described as early poverty. A mishmash of furnishings that seemed to have been collected from Goodwill. But it was comfortable, boasted cable TV and internet service and most importantly, it was warm. These last couple days in March the temperature here was barely above zero degrees. And that was during the day. She'd definitely need some extreme winter clothes.

The past two days had finally caught up with her. She was desperate for a hot shower and a real bed. But she wanted clean clothes to change into. And maybe while she shopped, she could do a little snooping.

As she reached to open her car door a hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist. “You're wasting your time here.”

Serena twisted her wrist out of his grasp and spun to face Max. “It's my time to waste.”

“This can be a dangerous village for people who aren't used to this kind of climate.”

“Are you threatening me?”

He stepped closer, invading her personal space. “Would you leave if I were?”

“No.” She raised her chin and folded her arms for good measure.

“Serena, I promise you there's nothing to investigate. There's no wrong to be righted here. Just go back to L.A. and find some other poor schmuck to harass.” The muscle in his jaw ticked and she wanted to smooth her palm down his cheek.

Maybe he was right. Maybe she was making a moron of herself for nothing. But her gut told her she shouldn't leave just yet. And her father had always listened to his gut.

“If there's nothing to investigate, then I won't find anything to dig up. And you don't have any reason to worry.”

His scowl darkened and he leaned in, whispering, “Go. Home.”

He was so close his nose almost touched hers. His cheeks were rough and reddened, and ice crystals dotted his beard. Memories of last night rushed over her. Her panic after he'd been gone for so long, and the relief when he'd come back. Her respect. And attraction. With a shiver, she remembered the feel of Max's callused hands running over her skin. His mouth on her nipple.
She'd had the most powerful sex of her life in the cargo space of a prop plane.

Shake it off, Serena.

“I'll leave when I'm ready.”

With a snarl and a growl, he spun on his heel and stalked off.

Serena shivered again, and not from the cold. Max's nearness had heated her body faster than an electric blanket. Only after she watched him get into a battered, rusty pickup did she open her door, climb into her SUV and study the map.

The pilot she'd chartered in Nome this morning was a retired U.S. Coast Guard and his Cessna 130 was a newer and roomier plane than Max's. Still, a town three hundred miles north of the Arctic Circle was not on her list of top one hundred
must visit
places.

As they had banked over the city of Barrow, she'd caught her first glimpse of the triangular-shaped town perched on the edge of the Arctic Ocean. The snow was still so high and ice so packed against the coastline, it'd been hard to distinguish sea from land.

Now that she was down on the ground, it didn't look much different. The land was barren. No vegetation in sight except tundra and even that was covered in snow right now. Only the main roads were plowed. Serena passed a large supermarket, a hospital with new wings under construction and a few office buildings.

Clustered among all these were small wooden homes built on pilings to keep them from melting the permafrost and sinking. Parked in the front yards of the houses
were a hodgepodge of trucks, four-wheel ATVs, snow-mobiles and small boats. The overcast weather and the void of people outdoors gave the town a ghostly quality, eerily silent except for the snow crunching under her tires.

She finally found the clothing shop Arna had told her about and purchased a couple pairs of blue jeans, a few heavy sweaters and, on the shop lady's recommendation, a pair of long underwear and some Sorel boots.

“Have you had this shop a long time?” Serena casually asked.

“Almost thirty years now,” the lady replied.

“I ran into a pilot from here while I was in Anchorage, a Max Taggert. Do you know him?”

The shop lady frowned. “Remember him always fighting in school. Used to get my son in trouble all the time.”

“Really?” Serena's bull meter went on alert. “Do you know why he was so violent as a kid?”

The white lady's expression flattened. “Seems to me he had a chip on his shoulder about his parents.”

Serena blinked, thanked the lady and carried her purchases to her car. Sounded to her like Max had been the target of racism in his childhood. But that was just one person's experience. She needed to question a lot more people before she assumed.

Hooking into her seat belt, she started the car and took in her surroundings. The sun was low on the horizon and the wind had whipped up the snowdrifts. The temperature had dropped considerably and visibility
was going to make it a challenge finding her way back to the hotel.

After twenty minutes, her fears were realized. She must have made a wrong turn somewhere. The ice fog was so dense, she was afraid to go any farther without knowing exactly how to get there. She pulled the car over and grabbed her cell from her purse, but she hadn't charged it in days. Damn. The streets were empty, the ice fog thickened and she started to panic.