by Vella Munn
“There! I saw it move.”
Calley followed the line of Dean’s finger. For the better part of a minute she saw nothing out of the ordinary; then, unexpectedly, a six-foot-high bush some distance from them shook as if in the grip of an angry giant.
“I don’t think it’s seen us,” Calley whispered. “My God, look at the size. That one’s magnificent.” She gripped the tree tightly, eyes unblinking on the furred mountain slowly coming out from under the bush. The bear’s muzzle was a few inches off the ground, which saved Calley from having to see its teeth. She wondered how deeply her arms would be buried in the carpet of fur around its neck if she were able to touch it. She started to speak again when the grizzly emitted a short growl and lumbered toward their tree.
“It smells us.” Dean had wrapped his legs around a limb and was pulling the tranquilizing gun from around his back. “We were so close. I hate having to go after grizzly in brush or trees.”
Calley glanced at Dean. He looked in control as he sighted down at the bear sniffing around their perch, but the breath of relief she heard told her he was holding his nerves in check with an effort. Her own heart had been pounding while they made their way up the tree, but now she felt relatively safe. Grizzlies were good climbers, but she and Dean were high enough up that the branches wouldn’t support the bear’s weight. Even if the bear decided to climb after them, Dean would be able to stop it with a drugged dart. She didn’t want him to have to do that. Now she could see the radio transmitter attached to the grizzly’s neck. When the bear rose on its hind legs to claw at the base of the tree, she spotted the swollen breasts. This was the female they’d tagged earlier. There was no scientific reason for tranquilizing it again.
“I wonder where her cubs are.” Although it made no difference now, Calley continued to keep her voice low.
“I wonder how close we are to their den.”
Calley rolled her eyes skyward. “I didn’t think about that. If they’re near, maybe she’ll never let us down.”
“Maybe.”
Dean’s distracted reply caught Calley’s attention. This wasn’t the first time Calley had scrambled into a tree to avoid a grizzly. The first time it happened, her palms had been wet with fear, but she’d learned that the most unnerving thing about the experience was having to put up with angry growls and claws tearing at the base of her sanctuary. Dean didn’t seem capable of telling himself that. He was staring at the bear, his body language telling her that his nightmare was threatening to consume him.
She wanted to say something. There should be a way of helping him fight off whatever it was he was going through. But Calley knew this was something Dean had to do on his own. She might have seen his sensitive, outgoing nature, but there was another side to him. Things he had to deal with alone because, for reasons she didn’t understand, he couldn’t let her near.
They spent the next hour in the tree, shifting weight occasionally, never quite convinced that the grizzly wasn’t going to try to climb after them. Sometimes the bear rose on her hind legs and clawed at their perch, but for the most part she ignored them as she lumbered about digging up roots. Despite her ferocious appearance, she didn’t seem to have any need to prove anything to the humans who’d wandered into her territory. After a while Calley tired of peering down at the massive creature. “I should have brought my knitting,” she joked. “We’re going to be here forever. This is downright boring.”
“Boring? Being at the mercy of a grizzly is never boring.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Calley amended. “I think you know that. Dean, she isn’t going to come after us. We’re stuck here, and I find that boring. I’m sorry if you don’t agree with me.”
For the first time since they’d settled in the tree, Dean really looked at her. “Are you giving me a lecture?” he challenged.
“You’re acting as if you need one.” Calley didn’t enjoy being at crossed swords with Dean, but she felt she had to do something to get through to him. “Sitting in a tree all afternoon is not the most exciting thing I’ve ever done. Don’t you have somewhere to go?” she called out to the grizzly.
The bear growled and lifted her head skyward but a minute later was back at work making kindling out of a decaying log. “She’s singularly unimpressed with us.” Calley giggled. No matter what was going through Dean’s head, she was determined to prove to him that their situation was more embarrassing than frightening.
“Just be thankful she is,” Dean pointed out. He was quiet a minute. “Are you comfortable?”
Calley lifted her elbow to show Dean where she’d scratched it during her hurried climb. “Not really, but I’ll survive.”
Dean’s concerned look made Calley regret showing him the scratch. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I have a salve back at camp that’ll take the sting out of it.”
“Actually—” Calley giggled again “—next to the way my rear end feels, I hardly notice my arm.”
“Agreed.” Dean changed positions on his tree limb. He smiled; the smile didn’t look forced. “Sitting on bark is not the most comfortable perch in the world.”
“It’s almost as bad as sitting on a cow.”
“A cow?” Dean’s look told Calley that he thought she just might be losing touch with reality. “What do you know about sitting on cows?”
At least he’d freed himself from whatever emotion had gripped him earlier. Grateful for that, Calley explained that sitting on cows was one of those experiences usually reserved for farm children. She’d hand raised a dairy cow as part of a 4-H project, and when the Guernsey became too large to sneak into the house anymore, she’d taken to riding the patient creature. “Maude always rolled her eyes when I got on her, but she was much more tolerant than the horses. Sometimes they’d get it in their heads to buck me off, but Maude put up with an awful lot.”
“Maude?” Dean frowned.
“Yeah, isn’t that awful? But I’m serious. Her back was like trying to sit on a picket fence. I have no idea why I did it.” Calley glanced down at the bear. “What’s the most uncomfortable place you’ve ever been? Other than this, I mean.”
A shadow flashed across Dean’s face, but when he spoke, his tone was light. “Probably along the Colville River in Alaska. It wasn’t the cold so much as having to spend so much time there waiting for something to happen.” His tone changed again, becoming something Calley didn’t recognize. “I don’t know why I said that,” he whispered. “So much of it was good. We were studying a polar bear and her cubs. Another researcher had been tracking this one female during the fall and knew where her winter den was. We came in December and stayed there through the summer.”
“We? When was that?”
“Summer before last. That was the easy part. Organizing and writing up the data we gathered took almost as long as the study itself.”
Dean was trying to steer the conversation away from the direction in which it had been headed. She might regret what she was doing, but Calley needed to know what he was trying to avoid. “Who was with you, Dean?”
Dean blinked but gave no other indication that he’d been trapped. “Waina,” he said softly.
“Waina?” Calley repeated. “Is she a biologist?”
“She’s a member of the Haida Indian tribe.”
“The woman who showed you that deserted village,” Calley supplied. Why should it bother her to hear Dean mention another woman? “You spent a lot of time with her, didn’t you?” she asked.
“A year. A year of my life.”
“Freezing near a polar-bear den in Alaska,” Calley went on. “That kind of existence brings people close together, doesn’t it?”
“It was just the two of us. Every couple of weeks a pilot would fly in with supplies, but we were alone for the better part of six months. We located the bear’s den and opened a hole from above so we could watch the female and her cubs. You would have enjoyed that.”
Calley clung to the image of newborn bears nestled close to thei
r hibernating mother’s side. “Were you able to take pictures?” Six months alone with Waina.
Dean nodded. “Hundreds, probably. The cubs had already been born by the time we had access to the den, but they weighed only a couple of pounds. We were able to study them until they were old enough to come out of the den with their mother.”
Calley should have been thinking about the rare experience Dean and Waina had been privileged to witness, but something he had said refused to leave her mind. Waina had been part of his life for a year. For six months they’d had no one but each other. “Did—did you leave then?”
“We stayed through the summer. We watched Taku and Auke as their mother taught them how to hunt and fish. She never got used to having us around, but I’d like to believe that her cubs accepted us as part of their world.” Dean ran his fingers through his hair. “I haven’t thought about this for a while. I don’t like thinking about the past. But despite the cold and monotony, it was a peaceful time. It wasn’t much different from what it’s like here. I think that’s when I came to understand the ebb and flow of life in Alaska. Taku and Auke were born to it. Waina taught me so much about not expecting more than what one needs for survival.”
“She sounds like a special woman.” Calley almost didn’t get the words out.
“She is. She left her village to go to college. She’s even been down here a couple of times, but unlike a lot of the young people in her village, she never wanted anything but to go back home. Calley?”
Calley waited. The moment was pregnant with something she couldn’t define.
“I haven’t talked about Waina since I left Alaska.”
“I thought so,” Calley said gently. She wondered if the emotion the grizzly had brought out in him had made Dean vulnerable today. “You loved her, didn’t you?”
Dean didn’t answer her. Instead, a slow, half-sad smile touched the corners of his mouth. “Even before they came out of the den, we could tell the difference between the two cubs. Auke, the male, was more aggressive, but Taku knew how to handle him. She’d run bellowing to her mother if Auke got too rough, but most of the time she trailed after him like a hero-worshipping younger sister. Occasionally Auke would even let her have some of his food. He probably thought he was being generous. I don’t think he ever caught on that she was conning him.”
“Taku was a true female,” Calley said with forced lightness. “Everyone knows that women know how to con men.”
“Maybe you’d like to try your skills on ugly mug down there? We’re going to be in trouble if we don’t get back to camp before dark.”
Calley acknowledged that Dean had said all he was going to about his time with Waina. “You’re the boss. Why don’t you tell her the food’s better over the next hill? You know, for a couple of so-called experts we’re really up a tree this time.”
Dean groaned. “Spare me.” He didn’t speak for another five minutes. When he did, once again he asked Calley if she was uncomfortable. She tried to reassure him that she’d survive, but she couldn’t help making comparisons. How had he kept the cold from biting too deeply into Waina? What, other than a respect for her people’s way of life, had she taught him? If it were Waina in the tree now, would Dean be talking about what went through his mind when he looked down at their captor?
When at length the female grizzly abandoned them and slowly made her way up the rise that would take her out of sight, relief seeped into Calley. True, she was more than ready to leave her high perch. But in addition to that, she’d had enough of thoughts of Dean’s months with Waina.
Fifteen minutes later they climbed down out of the tree. Dean took a moment to reposition his gun and pack, but he lost no time setting a pace that angled them away from where they’d last seen the grizzly. He didn’t speak for another fifteen minutes, and then it was only to ask Calley if he was walking too fast for her.
Calley understood Dean’s urgency. At least she thought she did. Unless they kept a fast pace, it would be dark before they reached camp. When night fell they wouldn’t be able to keep track of their progress with the compass Dean was using.
“I’m not sure I’m going to want to put all of this in the diary,” Dean said as they scrambled down the last hill leading to camp. His light tone was forced. “I’ll never hear the end of it if certain people read about this particular adventure.”
“We really didn’t have any choice but to get where she couldn’t reach us. You don’t think others are going to think any the less of you, do you?” Calley asked. She could see sweat glistening on the back of Dean’s neck, but he was handling himself as easily as he had when they first left camp.
“That isn’t my concern. It just isn’t something I want to talk about if I don’t have to. It turned out all right. That’s all that matters.” Dean sighed. “It’s a good thing her cubs weren’t around. I don’t doubt for a moment that they’d be able to climb high enough to wrestle us for a perch.”
“They’re probably pretty young.” Calley plunked herself down on the first log she came to in camp and started yanking at the leather laces holding her boots. “Oh! My feet are killing me. I had no idea I was using them to grip all the time we were in the tree.”
Dean knelt beside her and pushed her weary hands aside. He removed her boots, and with the gun still strapped to his back, began rubbing her feet. “It’s been a long day.” His thumb pressed against her instep, the pressure finding and unlocking tense muscles. “What say we call and have dinner delivered?”
“Fabulous idea. Pizza.” Calley sighed. Her eyes closed as she concentrated on what Dean was doing. The man in the tree with her had been a stranger. This was the one she knew.
“And beer. We can’t have pizza without beer.”
“We can’t?” Calley asked dreamily. There was something to be said for civilization. Heat controlled by the turn of a dial. Real sheets. Sleeping in a nightgown instead of flannel pajamas. Dinner at a place where waiters slipped in quietly and refilled water glasses.
Dean wasn’t rubbing her feet anymore. His strong hands were slowly making their way up the outer sides of her legs. She felt his fingers on her calves, running over her knees, finding the thigh muscles. Calley willed herself not to tense. This wasn’t the touch of a masseuse. This was how a man touched a woman who could have meaning for him.
And she wanted that tonight. She’d learned of what Dean had been and experienced before she met him. She couldn’t do anything about the past, but she could make him part of her world today. Or she could try.
Why she wanted that wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. His hands were around her waist, his breath warm on the tanned V below her throat. She opened her eyes to find his face inches away. So much of the man was hidden beneath his beard, and yet his eyes were giving away his emotions.
She could surrender herself to those eyes.
“Dean?”
“Don’t speak. I won’t hurt you. I want—” Dean’s lips finished the sentence for him.
Calley surrendered completely and unquestioningly. Maybe her willing response had something to do with their isolation and the imprisonment they’d shared earlier in the tree, and maybe it had to do with unfinished business carried over from the night of the storm. Calley closed her eyes, needing to soak in all she could of the man leaning over her. His hands remained around her and although her hands had found their way to his shoulders, there was very little body contact other than the kiss itself.
Despite being pinned beneath him, Calley felt free and weightless. When he parted his lips, she did the same. His tongue first touched the soft inside of her lips and then explored farther. Calley’s body responded instantly. Forgotten were her aching legs, her scratched arm, her empty stomach. She was full with wanting him, with wanting to know how much man was inside that mountain-man body. She’d seen him with his shirt off, but she’d never seen his legs when they weren’t encased in denim.
“Ah, Calley.” Dean sighed. “You don’t belong here. You’re
so feminine. You deserve satin sheets.”
Calley found her voice, but she answered him without opening her eyes. “Satin sheets? Hardly.”
“Have you ever wanted that?”
“Never. And you’re wrong. I belong here.” His lips were so close. She could sense them inches away, tantalizing her.
“I know you do.” Dean removed his right hand from her hip. Before Calley could feel the loss, he was touching her throat, tracing the tanned V as far as he could. “It’s incredible. I’ve only known two women who truly belonged in the wilderness.”
And Waina was the first. Calley slammed a door on that thought. “About that pizza,” she said around her need to give him further access to her. “How long will it take to have it delivered?”
“A long time.”
“Good.” What she was expected to say after that, she had no idea. Dean’s fingers had found the soft swell above her breast. Calley fought for control of her breathing, but her next breath came as a long, painful gasp. He knows, she thought. He knows how much I want him.
Dean’s own breath mirrored hers. She could sense the battle within him, but she was beyond setting any brakes. Her breasts would fit perfectly within the cradle of his hands. Although she knew that as profoundly as she knew her own name, wanting him to take possession of her was making her a little desperate. She moved her hips restlessly, seeking control of the emotions surging through her. She arched her back, giving him easier access to her breasts, telling him too much.
He responded the way she prayed he would. His hand slipped completely under her bra, and her nipple was hard against his palm, giving him further proof of where he’d brought her. “I’ve wanted—” he started. Instead of finishing, he once again married his lips to hers. This time Calley was waiting with open mouth.
Somewhere overhead an early owl gave out its lonely call. Night cold pricked against Calley’s flesh but was held at bay by the storm within. She worked her fingers under the collar of his shirt and was rewarded by the feel of warm flesh over rock-hard muscles. It wasn’t fair! No one else should have claimed his muscles before her. They were for her to delight in. He had been placed here for her.
