Northern Encounter

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.