by Juniper Bell
Go Wild
Juniper Bell
Lars loves Katia. Katia loves Lars. Lars wants to marry Katia. Can he convince his free-spirited lover that marriage will be as fun as her sexually adventurous single days?
Never before has Katia been tempted to give up her carefree ways. She’s deeply in love with Lars, but she doesn’t know if he can handle her wild side—or wilder needs. But Lars is a hard man to resist. The former Olympic champion won’t give up, not when he knows just how to please her.
The people of Wild, Alaska, know the best way to survive winter is to let off a little steam. When his buddies hit town for Wild Nights, a notorious winter festival with one rule—“anything goes, nothing counts”—Lars has the perfect opportunity to prove he’s the man for Katia.
Lucky for Katia, “proof” includes four rugged Alaska men and one wildly erotic night.
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com
Go Wild
ISBN 9781419932199
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Go Wild Copyright © 2011 Juniper Bell
Edited by Jillian Bell
Cover art by Valerie Tibbs
Electronic book publication February 2011
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Go Wild
Juniper Bell
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Avon: Avon Products, Inc.
Camry: Toyota Jidosha Kabushiki Kaisha (Toyota Motor Corporation)
Holiday Inn: Six Continents Hotels, Inc.
NHL: National Hockey League
Olympics: United States Olympic Committee
Playboy: Playboy Enterprises International, Inc.
Popsicle: Lipton Investments, Inc.
Sorel: Sorel Corporation
Timberland: The Timberland Company
Zamboni: Frank J. Zamboni & Co., Inc.
Chapter One
In the town of Wild in late January, staying warm was a full-time occupation. Katia scooted even closer to Lars, her knock-you-off-your-feet gorgeous giant of a guy who generated lots of body heat. Right now, that quality topped the long list of things she loved about him.
Only Lars Nordegren could have dragged her to a lame winter festival kickoff in zero-degree weather. Icy mountains and storm-heavy skies made a spectacular backdrop for the event, but Katia forgot the scenery when she felt Lars’ strong hand wander to her backside.
“Don’t you dare,” she whispered.
“Did I hear the word dare?” He cupped her ass. Instant heat, as always.
She shot him an evil glare, which he seemed to have no trouble ignoring. The sexy bastard only had to touch her with the tip of one little finger to get her revved up. He knew it, too, and took advantage at the most inconvenient moments, such as when the whole town happened to be gathered outside the fire station.
“You know I can’t keep my hands off you,” he added. “I’ve given up trying.”
She glanced around the crowd. Everyone’s attention was on the man at the podium. When did I start worrying what other people think? When she’d hooked up with Lars, that’s when. In all Katia’s world-wandering, uninhibited, adventure-loving days, no one had ever affected her like this. And now he’d ruined everything.
The handsome fucker had proposed.
But she didn’t want to think about that right now.
The man at the podium tapped on his megaphone. “We’d like to welcome all you Wild folks and all those who’ve made the trip here from somewhere else.” He looked like a chipmunk with his furry earflaps and thick polar fleece jacket. Behind him hung a banner, one end higher than the other. That was Wild, Alaska, for you—off-kilter in every possible way. The banner read, “Welcome to Wild Nights”. In smaller print, a line added, “Proudly sponsored by Arctic Tow and Auto Body Shop”.
Lars pressed his gloved hand against a secret spot somewhere in the lower curve of her buttocks. Even through a parka, snowpants and long underwear, she felt every shift of his knowing fingers. She couldn’t keep her little gasp to herself.
Lars smiled with pure male smugness.
Katia stuck her tongue out at him, then immediately drew it back so it wouldn’t get frostbite. Lars kept his eyes fixed on the man at the podium, although that telltale quirk pulling up one corner of his mouth told her he hadn’t missed her fit of immaturity. No doubt he’d exact revenge on her tongue later on.
She shivered at the thought. It was enough to make this bitter January day in Alaska feel like the tropics.
“For those of you who live here in Wild,” the man droned on, “it’s been a tough winter so far, and the almanac says we got more hardship on the way…”
Katia’s attention wandered at the word “hardship”. What was the big deal about this festival, anyway? Several hundred people had gathered for the kickoff, which was a shocker in and of itself. Katia had never seen so many Wild residents out and about. The official population of the town was several thousand, but many were never seen after the first snow. They holed up in their cabins like hibernating bears, and only reappeared when the weather warmed up.
But apparently Wild Nights could get even the crustiest loner out of his cave. Some fascinatingly overgrown beards had been spotted in town today.
“For those of you from Outside, don’t be surprised if things seem a little strange around here. We’re earned ourselves a party, and by dang if we aren’t going to do it up right.”
A muffled cheer rustled through the crowd. Applause through thick winter gloves just doesn’t have the same ring, thought Katia. Lars took his hand off her ass long enough to clap heartily. Katia instantly felt chilled.
Snowflakes drifted from the gray sky. “Lars, let’s get out of here. It’s starting to snow.”
“Not yet. He’s still talking.”
Grrr. Lars liked to be the one in charge. Katia didn’t mind it in bed. Not at all. But she’d been running her own life for long enough to dislike being dictated to. “I’m going. I’ll wait in the truck.” Blinking snowflakes off her lashes, she headed blindly away from the crowd. She had no idea what direction the truck was in, but at least she’d be moving.
“Get back here.” With one casual swoop of his arm, Lars gathered her to his side. “You can’t wander around alone during Wild Nights, my love.”
“Excuse me? Why not?”
Lars raised one eyebrow over penetrating gray-blue eyes. “There’s a reason it’s called that.”
“Oh, please. What’s going to happen? Some old fisherman who hasn’t showered since October is
going to make me smell his armpits?”
Lars chuckled, making the sun lines around his eyes fan out. A bit of his thick blond hair peeked from under his watch cap. Athletic and powerfully built, he looked like a Norse god, like Thor come back to life. Snuggled next to him, Katia felt as safe and cozy as a kitten by a fire.
“You should listen to the man with the megaphone.” Lars jerked his chin toward the podium. “He’s up there for a reason. This town looks forward to Wild Nights all winter. I hate to rush it.”
“Fine.” Katia let out a poof of air that formed an icy cloud. “But we’ll go as soon as he’s done?”
“As you wish, my love.”
Damn, she hated it when he quoted The Princess Bride. It made her too mushy for her own good. Resigned to more freezing boredom, she focused on the podium.
“In Wild, whether it’s a hungry moose or a lost bear, an eagle at the dump or an ermine breeding in the barn, we learn to cohabit with wild creatures. Sometimes we even try to avoid killing them.”
Grunts of laughter peppered the snowy air.
“And that’s why we’ve decided to make the theme of this year’s Wild Nights—drumroll, please—Go Wild.”
Katia looked up at Lars, whose smirk had turned into a full-throttle grin.
“Hear that, Katia, love? Go wild.”
“Nice theme,” came a masculine voice behind them. Katia turned to find two men approaching. Not just men. Hot men of the kind Alaska seemed to specialize in. Outdoorsy types who camped and climbed glaciers and wrestled bears. Her body automatically responded with female awareness. The taller guy had reddish-gold hair, eyes like a blue-jay feather and a broad smile that seemed to crack his face in two. The smaller of the two wore a pair of wire-rimmed glasses over friendly mud-colored eyes.
Lars broke into a huge smile. The three men exchanged long, back-slapping hugs while Katia reeled from the sudden infusion of testosterone. Out of long habit, she instantly assessed the two men with expert eyes. Yep, they were hot, all right. Great bodies, lots of animal magnetism, nice faces.
Stop it, she scolded herself. You’re attached, remember? Lars even proposed.
The sentimental bastard.
“When did you guys get in?” Lars was asking.
“Couple hours ago. Haven’t even showered yet. Gotta get to the Washboard after this before we scare off all the civilized types.” The red-haired man’s infectious smile seemed to fight off the grayness of the day.
“Good to see you, man, good to see you.” Lars turned to Katia. “Love, this is Jake and Marlowe. Marlowe’s the puny one with the glasses. Guys, this is Katia Pollard. I want her to marry me but she’s being stubborn.”
Katia felt her face flush. Wasn’t that supposed to be a private sort of thing? “Hey, it’s a big step.”
Marlowe winked at her. “Yeah, it is, especially with a lunk like this.” He was adorable, she saw, with his round face under a hand-knit stocking cap covered with green and blue snowflakes. “Take all the time you need. And give me a call if you want the dirt on Lars.”
Jake yanked off his glove to shake her hand. “I know what a pain in the ass this guy is. If you need him to back off, I’ll take care of it.”
Lars looked irritated. “Don’t listen to them. They don’t even live here anymore.”
Katia wanted to eat the two of them up. In the old days she would have flirted up a storm. But these were Lars’ friends. Proper behavior required. “Where are you guys from?”
“I work up on the Slope, and Marlowe’s a tree scientist. We all go way back.” The three men exchanged one of those remember-when looks that always made Katia feel lonely.
“Are you here for Wild Nights?”
“Yep. Never miss it.” She realized Jake’s eyes hadn’t left her since their introduction. She felt that familiar flutter in her belly that sexy men always inspired.
But you love Lars! Stop that.
“I have to admit, I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” she told him. Maybe conversation would fend off attraction.
Marlowe cocked his head, his round face curious. “No one’s explained it to you?”
“The mayor or whoever that was—”
“I mean, really explained it to you?”
Lars put his arm around Katia’s shoulders and hugged her tight. “I was just getting to that. Don’t spoil the surprise.”
Jake threw up his hands and took a step back. “Secret’s safe. Come on, Marlowe, let’s go pretty ourselves up. We’ve both been off in the bush for a while,” he told Katia. “We’re half-bear by now. Get rid of some of this hair and you might not recognize us next time you see us.”
With one last glance of scorching scrutiny, Jake turned away. Marlowe offered her a friendly grin and followed suit.
Katia tingled as if she’d just downed a glass of fizzy champagne. “Interesting characters,” she told Lars in a noncommittal way.
“They’re good guys. I’d trust both of them with my life. Eagle too. Don’t know what you’ll make of him, but he said he was coming this year. You must be getting cold, love.” Anchoring his arm across her shoulders, he guided her through the crowd, which was now beginning to disperse under the flurry of new snow.
But Lars Nordegren couldn’t go anywhere in the town of Wild without someone noticing. Lars happened to be Wild’s only celebrity, ever since he’d gone off to become a world-class biathlon competitor. An obscure sport, but enough to make the Nordegren name, and occasionally his hometown of Wild, show up in sporting newspapers now and then. Add to that his studliness, and Katia knew Lars could have any woman in town. And half the men.
Right on cue, a woman bumped into them, accidentally-on-purpose, no doubt. Katia knew Mariah. She’d been on Lars’ college ski team. She had an apple-cheeked, perky look and wore a fur-lined white parka.
“I’ve been saving up my dollars, handsome,” teased Mariah, completely ignoring Katia.
“Oh yeah? New skis?”
“Better. An evening with the world-famous Lars Nordegren.”
Katia watched red creep up Lars’ cheeks as she fixed him with a curious look. “No, I’m not, um, participating this year.”
“But Lars. Without you, the town won’t make any money.”
“I’ll write them a damn check.”
“That’s no fun.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Katia shifted her weight from one foot to the other, back and forth. “We were kind of on our way to warm up in the truck.”
Mariah finally spared a glance for Katia. Her look of scorn spoke volumes about her opinion of anyone needing shelter from the balmy below-zero temperatures.
“The Wild Man Bachelor Auction. Lars always gets the highest bid. Come on, Katia, help me talk him into it. It’s for the good of the town.”
“Um…”
“It’s not like it counts.”
“What do you mean?”
Mariah gave her a stare. “It’s Wild Nights. Don’t you know the rules?”
Katia pressed her hip against Lars’ thigh. He’d better start explaining things, fast.
Lars nudged her back, the secret pressure giving her a thrill. “No go, Mariah. I’m passing the torch to the next generation. My bachelor days are over.”
Mariah gave Katia a skeptical look.
Katia knew no one in town expected her to stick around. But as long as she lived here… “Why would anyone bid on a man with a live-in girlfriend?”
Mariah shrugged. “It’s Lars. If he was in a coma, they’d bid for a chance to give him a sponge bath.”
“Okay, that’s enough.” Lars nodded goodbye to Mariah, took Katia’s mitten-encased hand and hurried her away.
“A sponge bath?”
“You offering?”
They reached the corner of Spruce Street, which led down to a desolate beach littered with giant driftwood logs. A magnificent panorama of glaciers loomed across the bay. She had to admit, Wild, Alaska, was the most spectacular place she’d ever see
n. And for a wanderer like herself, that said a lot. But right now, she had something else on her mind.
“Bachelor auction?”
“It’s for the town. Helps pay for garbage pickup or something.”
Wild had no garbage pickup, but Katia didn’t bother to remind him of that. “Don’t let me stop you if you want to strut your stuff on a stage.”
She spotted Lars’ silver truck, already dusted with half an inch of snow, halfway down the street. But her longed-for refuge from the cold would have to wait. Lars spun her around so she couldn’t evade his look.
“If you’re telling me no, tell me no. Don’t dance around it.”
She shrank back from the directness of those blue-gray eyes. “Don’t you think it’s too soon? We met barely a year ago.”
“No, I don’t think that. I wouldn’t have proposed if I did. Do you?”
That was the thing about Lars. He always said what he thought. Never beat around the bush. Direct, honest and hard to fool. “I love you. You know I do.”
“I know. And there’s this strange, mysterious thing people do when they love each other. They get married.”
Katia felt icy prickles on her right cheek from the wind blowing off the bay. “Sometimes.” She shivered.
Lars moved his hand from her parka-covered shoulder to the back of her neck, which he cupped with his warmth. Delighted shivers danced across Katia’s skin. If he chose, Lars could probably lift her with one hand and carry her to the truck. There was something very seductive about such stupendous power.
Lars brushed the snow off her wool hat. “Let’s get you inside, love. Before you turn into the most beautiful chocolate-haired Popsicle I’ve ever seen.”
That was another thing about Lars. Under that rugged exterior lurked a soft streak that melted Katia’s heart at the most inconvenient moments.
Chapter Two
When Katia first met Lars, she’d never heard of the biathlon. She’d stopped at a laundromat in Minnesota during a meandering cross-country drive back home, a destination she had no desire to reach. Lars had been doing his laundry too. Slouched in an orange plastic bucket seat with a copy of On the Road, she’d found Jack Kerouac’s words far less interesting than the way the blond giant’s backside looked as he bent down to sort through his dirty socks. He wore blue jeans and a midnight-blue wool sweater. He was magnificent.
