Snowbound

by Deborah Cooke

  It was funny to think of herself as the emotional one.

  It was interesting to see him assess the result of his work in much the same way as she would assess a completed protocol.

  Maybe they weren’t that different, after all.

  “Are you giving it a score?” she asked and he grinned.

  “Always. And looking for potential improvement.”

  Liv could relate to that. “What’s the score out of ten?”

  “With an allowance for the absence of my gas range, I’d say we’ve managed a nine.” He saluted her with his glass and they sipped together. “A winning team.”

  Liv drank his toast. “Do you make eggs like this all the time?”

  “Every Sunday, it’s the brunch special at the lodge. People like it.”

  “I can see why.”

  They ate in satisfied silence for a few moments, the fire crackling beside them.

  “Tell me about genetic markers,” Spencer invited when his plate was clean.

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t understand what you do.” He shrugged. “I might not understand it after you explain it, either, but give me a try.”

  “I can explain things better than that.”

  He leaned back, sipping his mimosa, eyes gleaming. “Go for it.”

  “You know about DNA, right?” She drew a double spiral on the table with her fingertip, and Spencer nodded.

  “The double helix.

  “Deoxyribonucleic acid,” she confirmed. “The chain of genetic instructions.”

  “For replicating cells.”

  “Right. We have a particular style of DNA as a species, with twenty-three chromosomes, DNA that makes humans look the way we do. Then there’s individual variation. Yours is a combination of the DNA of both of your parents, but it’s your personal mix. It’s similar but a bit different from Lexi’s DNA.”

  Spencer nodded, then refilled their glasses. “Lexi and I both have dark hair, but her eyes are more grey, like those of my paternal grandmother.”

  “Exactly! And that’s just one of the differences between you.”

  “Gender.”

  “I noticed that,” Liv said and they shared a smile. “Everything that makes you you is coded in your DNA.” She indicated her drawing. “The two DNA strands are composed of simpler structures called nucleotides.” She drew a horizontal line between the two strands with her fingertip as Spencer watched. “A genetic marker is a gene or DNA sequence with a known location somewhere on the DNA strand or in a chromosome that is a distinct variation.”

  “Isn’t this stuff really really tiny?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then finding them would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  “It can seem like it. We need to look at large groups of a population who have the same susceptibility to find the common gene marker, if there is one.”

  “Computers are your friends.”

  “Absolutely.”

  He frowned. “So, not all members of a species have any given marker?”

  “No, that’s the point. Because sometimes the marker indicates a susceptibility to a particular disease or parasite.”

  “Are they inherited?”

  “Often. Any given marker can also be dominant or recessive, or co-dominant, which complicates things a bit more.”

  “How does this take you to bees?”

  “Well, the European honey bee was the third organism to have its DNA mapped. In 2006, the mapping was completed.”

  “What were the first two?”

  “Fruit flies and mosquitos.”

  “Those fruit flies again,” he teased and she smiled.

  “We found out a lot more about bees from their DNA and that mapping.”

  “Like?”

  “Like they have more genes devoted to the sense of smell than to that of taste.”

  “Makes sense, since they’re hunting flower pollen.”

  “It does. They also have fewer genes governing immunity than the fruit fly or the mosquito, which is interesting and might be a contributing factor to their susceptibility to parasites.”

  “And the diminishing numbers of bees.” Spencer glanced at her glass and Liv took a hint. She had another sip, then he filled it up again. “Are you trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me?” she teased.

  “I thought that was your plan for me.” He picked up the plates and moved them to the kitchen counter, then put the pitcher of juice and the bottle of prosecco on the coffee table. When Liv stood up, he moved the table away, giving them a clear view of the fire from the couch. She sat down there, leaning back against the leather and felt like purring.

  This was decadent.

  There was nowhere else she wanted to be.

  “You look pleased.”

  “I’m glad there’s nowhere to go and nothing to do.”

  “I can think of something we can do,” Spencer teased. He sat down beside her and stretched out his legs, putting his arm across her shoulder. “Tell me more about the project in England.”

  “They’re trying to discover if there are genetic markers that determine the susceptibility of bees to certain parasites or illnesses.”

  “To see if there’s a genetic reason for something like varroa mites.”

  “You know something about bees.”

  “I like bees,” he said with a nod, then tapped his tattoo. “They make fruits and vegetables happen.”

  Liv nodded. “So, we have a list of things that contribute to the death of bees.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “Colony collapse disorder, which is when the worker bees suddenly abandon the hive. The American foulbrood, which is a parasite. Varroa mites, another parasite particularly devastating to bees. And tracheal mites.”

  “More parasites.”

  “Never mind pesticides and habitat issues and other predators.”

  “And the goal?”

  Liv turned to face him, knowing her excitement showed. “What if we could not only identify the genetic marker that makes bees vulnerable to each of these things, but modify it? What if we could remove it or create an antidote that made bees stronger? What if we could buttress their immunity so they’re less susceptible?”

  Spencer surveyed her, his gaze sliding over her features as surely as a touch. “And it’s like a big riddle, or a jigsaw puzzle with ten thousand parts.”

  “What if I could sort it out, Spencer? What if I could make a difference?”

  He raised his hand to her cheek, stroking her skin with his thumb. “Now you’re trying to have your way with me,” he murmured.

  “What?”

  “I love when you get excited about your work. It’s really sexy.”

  Liv blushed, but she didn’t look away. Spencer’s appreciation made her feel sexy, and a lot bolder than she usually was. She took a chance and leaned forward, touching her lips to his. She felt him catch his breath and saw his eyes glitter. “Give me a score on your sexy scale, out of ten,” she whispered, daring in her voice

  “Eleven,” Spencer murmured without hesitation. “I’m yours for the taking.”

  “I want to see all your tattoos first,” Liv said, hearing that she was a little breathless. “And I want to know why you have them.”

  “There are only two more.”

  She reached for the hem of his T-shirt, sliding her hand underneath it so that her palm was against his skin. It felt audacious to seduce him when he wasn’t blindfolded, when they were looking into each other’s eyes, when there were no secrets about her desire. Liv wanted more and more. “Are you sure?” she asked. “I think I might need to do an inventory...”

  He laughed as she tugged off his shirt, then she bent to kiss his nipple, teasing it exactly the way he’d teased hers. He caught his breath. She felt his heart skip a beat. He murmured her name, then his hand landed on the back of her waist. Liv urged him to his back and followed him, wanting to claim all he had to give.

  And to give just as much in
return.

  Chapter Five

  Something had changed.

  Spencer saw it in Olivia’s eyes, in her posture, he heard it in her tone. Something had softened in her, and brightened. She was demanding as she hadn’t been, confident in her touch and her appeal, and he was completely transfixed. The feel of her lips on his nipple, her fingers on his skin, her weight on top of him, made him want to just close his eyes and enjoy.

  But he wanted to watch her, too.

  He reached up and removed the clip from her hair, letting it spill over her shoulders as she moved to kiss him. He let her take command, and she did with a passion that left him breathless.

  And ready.

  Her hand slid over his chest to his shoulder. “The compass at the top of your sleeve.”

  “It points to true north.”

  “It points to a building that looks a lot like the lodge.”

  Spencer smiled. “Wolfe Lodge. My true north. The thing that’s most important to me.”

  She kissed the point of the compass. “I guess mine would point to my bee.”

  “There are bees at the Pines in Honey Hill,” Spencer noted.

  Olivia smiled, then silenced him with a slow sweet kiss. He eased his hands beneath her shirt, then cupped her breasts in his palms. She squirmed a little, then sat up to discard his sweatshirt. She didn’t look like her usual composed self. Her hair was disheveled and her eyes were shining. Her nipples were taut and he caressed them, watching her arch her back in pleasure. She smiled down at him, then tugged at the waistband of his jeans. “I want you naked. Right now.”

  Spencer grinned and unfastened his jeans. Olivia helped and he was soon lounging on the couch naked as she surveyed him.

  “I’ll have to remember that recipe,” she whispered, then kicked off her own jeans and crawled over him again. She claimed his nipple with a kiss, sucking the peak between her teeth in a move that Spencer knew he’d taught her.

  Having her do it to him was enough to make him dizzy. “Is the wolf for your name?” she asked.

  On his chest, Spencer had a large tattoo of a wolf with a feather. It was a piece he loved. The feather swirled, the howling wolf silhouetted at its base, a full moon in the middle of the feather, and its tip breaking into a flock of birds that scattered over his skin.

  “That and more. As soon as I saw it, I had to have it,” he admitted, then Olivia’s mouth closed over him and he felt himself shiver. She stroked him, indicating that he should continue. He reached down and let his fingers tangle in her hair, then closed his eyes in rapture.

  She was in command and he was content to let her do whatever she wanted, sensing that she needed this change in the balance.

  Spencer’s voice was husky when he continued. “The sight of it filled me with wonder, exactly the way I want to feel every day about everything in my life. I want to be in awe. I want to appreciate every bite, every moment, every taste.”

  He realized that he felt this way with Olivia, that the sight of her filled him with joy, that her smile could change his world, that he wanted to be with her every moment for the duration. He didn’t just want her: he loved her.

  He gasped as her tongue moved over him, as her teeth grazed him lightly, as she took him almost to the edge, then retreated. “I want to live every day as if it’s a new experience.” He moaned as she began her assault again, the silk of her hair around his hand. “I want to love with all my heart. I want to give every moment my best. I want to howl at the moon.” He caught his breath and his fingers tightened in her hair, because he was close, too close, and he hadn’t touched her yet. “Olivia!” he whispered, hearing his own need, and she eased over him. She claimed him with a kiss, a demanding kiss, as if she’d suck him dry. Her passion fed his own and Spencer gripped her waist, wanting to roar when she took him inside her with one smooth move.

  “Who’s getting lucky now?” she whispered, her eyes filled with mischief and her hair falling all around them.

  “Definitely me,” he said, smiled up at her. “Let’s fix that.” He eased his hand between them, inhaling sharply to discover how wet she was, how hard her clitoris was. He watched her sit up and stretch her arms overhead, watched her lips part as he coaxed her to moan. He caressed her as she rode him, their pleasure mounting as they drove each other onward. She looked down at him, desire glittering in the green depths of her eyes, a flush on her cheeks and her breasts.

  “Come here,” he whispered and she lowered herself over him, still riding him as her mouth locked over his own. He held her tight and kissed her hungrily, finally rolling her to her back to drive deep inside and make them both roar with satisfaction.

  They were breathing heavily when he kissed the corner of her mouth, liking how she smiled. “I love you,” he said, holding her gaze, and saw the panic light her own. “Which means I want you to have whatever you want.”

  She eyed him warily. “Even leave for England?”

  “Even that.” Spencer heaved a sigh and pushed his hand through her hair. “I’ll miss you, and every time I see you, I’ll try to convince you to give me another chance, but you have to howl at your moon.”

  Olivia dropped her gaze. “Isn’t there a saying about loving someone enough to let them go?”

  “There is. No creature is happy caged.”

  She brushed her fingertips across his chest piece, her touch lingering on the flock of birds.

  “Will you tell me,” he dared to ask.

  “Tell you what?” Her gaze flicked to his and Spencer knew that she knew exactly what he meant.

  “Why you don’t believe in something I think is unassailable.” He eased her hair back from her cheek and kissed her temple. “Tell me why you don’t believe in love, Olivia.”

  She moved and he rolled to his back, letting her do what she wanted. She braced an elbow on his chest and looked down at him. “It’s like what you say about Lexi and doubting she’ll come through.”

  “A learned response.”

  “Exactly.”

  He slid his hand up her back, unable to think kindly about anyone breaking her heart. “Tell me about it,” he invited, instead of offering to deck some guy.

  Olivia nodded slowly. “Mise en place,” she whispered, then brushed her lips across his. “Let me put all in order then I’ll explain.”

  Spencer was content to wait. They had time. And her agreement to tell him meant that she trusted him.

  He knew that trust was the cornerstone of everything.

  Could this be the beginning of a future for them?

  Where would she start?

  Liv felt agitated by even the prospect of confiding in Spencer. Or was she agitated because he’d said those three words—and she’d wanted to respond in kind?

  She appreciated that he gave her space and time to think about it. They cleaned up the kitchen together and she helped him organize the perishables in the basement. The basement was bigger and higher than she’d expected. It was made of poured concrete, which must have cost a fortune, and was meticulously clean.

  “This is huge,” she said without intending to, turning in place and looking around.

  “I wanted it done right.”

  “But it must have cost a fortune.”

  “It pretty much did.”

  Liv turned to face Spencer, not wanting to ask the obvious question out loud.

  He grinned. “I can guess what you’re thinking.”

  “I thought you put everything into Wolfe Lodge.”

  “I did, but then something happened.” He beckoned to her. “Come on. It’s warmer upstairs. I’ll tell you there.”

  She took one last look around the basement, unable to evade the thought that it would make a good lab.

  “Once upon a time,” Spencer said when they were back in the kitchen. “My great-great-grandfather arrived from England and started to buy land around here.”

  “The sawmill guy,” Liv said, remembering Lexi telling her this story.

  “Th
e sawmill guy. He owned a huge chunk of the highlands. Some of it he logged, some of it he sold off, but one piece, the ten acres he thought was the prettiest, he kept pristine. He was working hard and he wasn’t married, but he had the idea that one day, he’d build a house on that parcel of land. So, he put away two hundred dollars, saving it for that house.”

  “When was this?”

  “In the late nineteenth century. He never built that house. He married late and kept on working to ensure his kids had a legacy. When he died, his wife invested the money and kept the title to the land. She managed his business and raised his kids, thinking one of them would build the house. But his oldest son moved away to Boston and his second son died in the war. When she died, she left the title and the money, which had grown into a larger sum, to their oldest son, who didn’t want to move away from Boston. His oldest son, did move to Bangor to raise his family, but by the time the land and the money came to him, he was well established himself. He put it away for his son.”

  “Your dad?”

  Spencer nodded. “And the same thing happened. By the time this legacy was passed to my dad, he already had the house he wanted in Honey Hill. He tucked it away for me. I didn’t know anything about it until Gabriel and I had bought back Wolfe Lodge and reopened the restaurant. Gabriel had his house in Honey Hill, the one he bought when he sold his restaurant in Portland, but I’d sunk every nickel into the lodge. When my dad found out that I was sleeping in the unrenovated part of the lodge, he gave me the title and the money. He told me to build myself a house that I’d have, regardless of how things went at the lodge. He said he wouldn’t give it to me unless I promised to spend the money on building a house and not invest it in the lodge.” He raised his gaze to hers. “I thought he was talking about a couple of thousand dollars.”

  “But he wasn’t.”

  “Compound interest is your friend, especially over a century or so. There was plenty to build this place and to build it exactly the way I wanted it to be. I own it outright, just the way my dad planned, and it’s my haven.”