Dodging Cupid's Arrow

by Kate Hoffmann

  "I'm in training," Perrie said.

  Paddy scribbled her order on a scrap of paper, then walked it back to the kitchen. He returned a few moments later with a large glass of milk. "I heard you're entering the brides' competition," he said. "All the bachelors around town are lookin' forward to seeing how you fare. See if you're decent marriage material."

  Perrie smiled. "The rules say any single woman can enter. But this single woman isn't interested in marriage. Just in the first prize."

  "I also heard that you spent some time inside the Bachelor Creek Lodge this morning."

  Perrie blinked in surprise. She'd visited the lodge less than an hour ago and already Muleshoe's version of Walter Cronkite was on the story. "My first and last visit."

  "I wouldn't be too certain of that. A lady sets foot in the lodge and she's bound to be married." Paddy laughed. "Not one of them boys paid a cent into the bride scheme and now they're falling like tall timber. First Tanner. Now Joe. Hawk will be next."

  "I'm not marrying Joe Brennan," Perrie insisted.

  "I bet Joe was plenty mad when he found out you got inside the lodge. He's been dodging marriage since I met him five years ago. You know, he's dated pretty near every available woman in east Alaska."

  "I know that, Mr. Doyle. Everyone knows that. Seems Joe's social life is front-page news around Muleshoe."

  "Would be, if we had a newspaper." Paddy rubbed his chin. Bracing his foot on an empty beer barrel, he leaned up against the bar. "You work in the newspaper business, right?"

  "When I'm not withering away in the wilds of Alaska," she said, sipping at her milk.

  "I need some advice." Paddy reached back and untied his apron. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

  Her curiosity piqued, she followed him through the bar to a rear door, then up a dusty narrow stairway to the second story of the building. Paddy came to another door and threw it open.

  "This stuff has been up here forever," he said. "I was thinkin' about putting in a nice dance hall up here, for parties and weddings and such."

  "What is this?" Perrie asked.

  "This is what's left of the Muleshoe Monitor," Paddy explained. "Paper started when this was a boomtown during the gold rush days. Lasted until the thirties and then the old guy that ran it moved to Fairbanks."

  "This is incredible," Perrie said, moving to stand near the line of old wood cabinets on the wall. The galleys from the final edition of the Monitor still lay on the table, covered with years and years of dust. She brushed off the masthead to get a better look. "When I was in junior high, I worked for my town newspaper. They had all the old block type left and they used it for signs and posters. I would sit and cast headlines. Local Girl Wins Pulitzer, Kincaid Awarded Nobel Peace Prize. Things like that. Now it's all done on computer."

  "I want to sell this stuff," Paddy said. "What do you think it's worth?"

  Perrie picked up a composing stick. "This is… probably not worth much. I'm not really sure. To someone like me, it's fascinating. When I was a kid, I dreamed about having my own paper."

  "Back when Muleshoe was a boomtown, in '98, we had enough folks living here to support a paper. Nearly two thousand. And with all the money bein' made, there was plenty of news. The guy that ran the place passed on in 1951 and no one ever came back to claim his property. That press has been sittin' there ever since, collecting dust. Probably take half the men in this town to move the thing. Or I guess we could break it apart."

  "Oh, no!" Perrie cried. "You can't do that."

  Paddy shrugged. "Not much else to be done. Come on, Miz Kincaid. Let's go see if your breakfast is done. You hear of any market for this old junk, you let me know, all right?"

  She nodded and Paddy headed for the door. But Perrie lingered for a moment longer. The scent of ink still permeated the room, even after nearly fifty years. She closed her eyes and her thoughts drifted back to the little print shop she'd loved when she was a kid. It was because of mat place that she'd become a reporter.

  For an instant, she wished Joe was with her. She wanted to share this with him, the same way he'd shared the wolves with her, telling him about the first time she'd realized she wanted to be a newspaperwoman. And then she remembered how things had been left between them.

  They were like a pair of magnets, at times attracted and at other times repelled by each other. She could understand the latter. But where did the attraction come from? Sure, he was handsome, but she'd never been hung up on physical attributes. She assumed he was intelligent, although she had never carried on a scholarly conversation with him. He was definitely charming, the type of man that most women found irresistible.

  Maybe it was something else, something less obvious. Though he was friendly enough, he always seemed to stop short of any shared intimacy. Most men she'd known could talk for hours about themselves, but she hadn't managed to get a single iota of personal information out of Brennan beyond his revelation about his debt to Milt Freeman. When she questioned him, he just brushed her curiosity off with a clever quip or a teasing remark.

  Perrie would hazard a guess that there hadn't been a woman on the planet who had managed to get inside Joe Brennan's head-or inside his heart. She wouldn't be the first-and she didn't want to be.

  Chapter Seven

  The woods were dark and silent when she returned home, the soft crunch of her boots echoing off the tall trees and disappearing into the night. Perrie had spent the entire day away from Bachelor Creek Lodge, simply to avoid seeing Joe again. Breakfast at Doyle's, lunch with the brides and practice for the games after that. She even spent an hour before dinner above Doyle's, reexamining what was left of the Muleshoe Monitor.

  She wasn't really angry with Joe. But she wasn't ready to forgive him yet, either. One step toward a truce usually resulted in another step backward. Why couldn't they just get along? She was stuck here in Alaska for who knows how much longer, forced to see him every day, whether she wanted to or not. The least he could do was leave her in peace.

  But did she truly want that? More and more, she found herself looking forward to their time together. And even worse, she enjoyed the bantering, the arguments, the ongoing battle for control. Joe Brennan was the first man she'd ever met who didn't let her walk all over him.

  She'd always been a single-minded person, a woman who made her opinions known. Men had been attracted to her in part because of her notoriety, her position as a successful reporter. But Joe was not part of her world; he lived outside the orbit of the Seattle Star. He didn't care that she was Perrie Kincaid, award-winning journalist. He knew her as Perrie Kincaid, pain in the butt, unhappy guest, woman with a single mission-to get out of Muleshoe, Alaska, at any cost.

  But lately, she hadn't been as obsessed with escape as she had been when she'd arrived. During her training session this afternoon with the brides, she'd all but forgotten her reason for entering the games. Through all the snowshoeing and wood splitting and dogsledding, her thoughts were on Joe-on how she'd prove to him that she could handle the rigors of life in the wilderness.

  Something had changed between them, a change so subtle she'd barely noticed it. Since their day with Romeo and Juliet, she'd begun to look at Joe Brennan as more than just a minor roadblock in her plans to write the Riordan story. He had wormed his way into her life, teasing and cajoling, challenging her at every turn. In her mind-and her heart-he'd become an incredibly sexy, attractive, intriguing man.

  Perrie slowly pushed open the front door of her cabin, trying to push the tangle of thoughts aside, as well. Why couldn't she make sense of this? She'd always had such command over her feelings. But Joe Brennan defied every attempt she made to define her feelings, to restrain her fascination… to keep herself from falling head over heels for him.

  As she stepped inside and closed the door against the cold, she noticed a small white envelope on the floor in front of her. Her heart skipped a beat. Could it be from Joe? But when she saw the childish scrawl on the outside, she scolded h
erself for such a ridiculous reaction.

  With a tiny smile, she tugged a handmade Valentine from the envelope, realizing for the first time that Valentine's Day was coming up very soon. She'd never paid much attention to the holiday. Once she'd been transferred out of Lifestyles, she'd been spared the syrupy articles about hearts and flowers, sentiment and romance.

  "Roses are red, violets are blue," Perrie read, "I'm happy to have a new friend like you. Sam." She traced her finger over the ragged letters of the little boy's name, a flood of affection filling her heart. She couldn't recall ever receiving a valentine before, beyond the little cards exchanged in grade school. No boy, or man, had ever taken the time to express his fondness for her in such a sweet way.

  She leaned back against the door and closed her eyes. Now was not the time for regrets. She'd never had any real romance in her life. But she'd had professional success beyond her wildest dreams. Her work was so exhausting she'd never noticed the empty apartment she came home to night after night. Why did it suddenly seem that it wasn't enough? Why did she feel as if she deserved more?

  Perrie slammed her fists back against the door, only to have the sound echo back at her. She jumped away from the door and another knock sounded from the other side of the rough planks.

  "Perrie, I know you're in there. I've been waiting for you to get back. Open the door."

  She reached for the knob, then pulled her hand back. Drawing a long breath, she cleared her mind of all her silly romantic notions about Joe Brennan, as if he would somehow be able to read her thoughts once she opened the door. But she didn't anticipate the tiny thrill that shot through her when she came face-to-face with the man once again.

  He smiled at her, the soft spill of light from the inside of the cabin illuminating the handsome planes and angles of his face. "Hi."

  She couldn't help but return his smile. He had an uncanny way of soothing the tension between them, of charming away all the animosity with a teasing word or devilish grin. "Hi," she replied. It was all she could say with the breath left in her lungs.

  What was wrong with her? She felt like a lovesick teenager. How could she have gone from complete frustration to heart-pounding attraction in the course of a single day? What had changed?

  "Are we still mad at each other?" he asked.

  Perrie sighed. Was it even possible to stay angry with Joe Brennan? She thought not. "No. I'll probably curse you up one side and down the other the next time I have to hike to the outhouse in the middle of the night, but for now, I'm feeling generous."

  He reached out and grabbed her hand. "Good. Because I have something special I want to show you." He tugged her back outside the cabin, then pulled the door shut behind her.

  "Where are we going?"

  "Not far," he said.

  He pulled a flashlight from the pocket of his jacket and they headed down a path that took them deeper into the woods. The tracks from the dogsled had packed the snow, and even in the dark, she knew they were headed toward the river.

  They walked side by side, silent but for the sound of their boots against the snow. He held her hand, her bulky mitten firmly in his grasp, and when she slipped, he circled her shoulder with his arm, pulling her close.

  It all seemed so natural between mem, this casual touching, as if they'd crossed some invisible line in their relationship that allowed them to acknowledge their regard for each other. She liked the way it felt, his hands on her, yet with no sexual overtones.

  "Are we almost there?"

  "Almost," he said. "Stop right here."

  She looked around but saw only what she'd seen for the last few minutes. Thick forest nearly obliterating the stars above. Snow on either side of the path, illuminated by the weak glow from his flashlight. "What is it?"

  He stepped behind her and covered her eyes with one hand. He placed his other hand at her waist to steady her, then nudged her forward. "Just a few more yards," he said. "Don't be afraid. I won't let you fall."

  "I-I'm not afraid," Perrie said softly.

  When she'd taken the required number of steps, he stopped her, then slowly pulled his hand away. It took a moment for her vision to focus and then her breath caught in her throat.

  They stood on the edge of the forest, overlooking the wide, frozen expanse of the Yukon. And there, in the northern sky, hung a kaleidoscope of swirling color, so strange and unearthly that she was afraid to breathe. Red, purple and blue washed the black horizon in brilliance, like a giant spirit rising up into the sky in a jeweled coat.

  "I knew you'd want to see this," he said.

  "I-I don't know what to say."

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back against his long, lean body. His chin rested on the top of her head. "You don't have to say anything. I wanted to be the one to show you."

  "It's incredible."

  "I've never seen an aurora this nice in the middle of winter. They usually occur in the fall and spring. But every so often, on a dark night in winter, the sky comes alive with light. You can almost feel it in the air."

  "Do you know why they happen?" Perrie asked.

  "Protons and electrons from sunspots start floating around in space," Joe explained, leaning over her shoulder until she could feel his warm breath on her face. "They get drawn into our atmosphere near the magnetic poles and they light up and dance and put on a show."

  "Why didn't I notice it on the way home?"

  "The headlights on the truck, the trees on either side of the road. Or maybe you just weren't looking."

  Perrie turned around in his arms and stared up at him. She couldn't see his face in the darkness, but she wanted to believe he was looking down at her. "Thank you for bringing me here."

  "I wanted to show it to you. I only wish you could see it from the air, because it's even more glorious. Maybe someday…" His voice drifted off when he realized, as she did, that there wouldn't be any "somedays" between them. "I thought you might write another story."

  "I will," Perrie said.

  They stood there for a long time, facing each other, Perrie imagining the strong features of his face, his chiseled jaw, which felt so good beneath her hands, and his mouth, as potent as aged brandy. She wanted him to kiss her, here and now, while they stood under this magical light. She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and draw him close until all their thoughts became actions, words transformed into sweet taste and touch.

  The intensity of her feelings took her by surprise. How could she have spent so many days with this man, yet never realized how she felt? A few days ago, she wanted nothing more than to put him out of her life. And now all she could think of was being near him.

  She wanted him to kiss her, and hold her, and make love to her until the sun drove the colorful lights from the sky. The revelation sent a shiver through her and she trembled.

  "You're cold," he said. "We should go back."

  "All right," she said. As they retraced their path through the woods, Perrie's mind scrambled for a way to make this night last a little longer. She could grab Joe and kiss him, the same way she'd grabbed him that very first day in the truck, daring him to reveal his true feelings for her.

  But she didn't want to force the issue. If Joe Brennan wanted her as much as she wanted him, then she would have to be patient. For the first time in her life, she didn't want the control. She needed Joe to take the first step.

  But there had to be a way to encourage that, a way to show him how she felt. Perrie cleared her throat. "This was very thoughtful of you… Joe." His name didn't come naturally to her lips. She'd grown so used to calling him Brennan that "Joe" almost seemed like an intimacy reserved for lovers.

  "You know there's nothing that says we can't be friends," he said, his attention still fixed on the path in front of them.

  "What kind of friends?" Perrie asked.

  "The kind that doesn't fight all the time?"

  They reached the front porch of her cabin and he held tight to her hand as they climbed th
e slippery steps. "I'm sorry I've been so hard on you," she said. "I understand that you take your responsibility seriously." She opened the door and stepped inside, deliberately leaving the door wide in an unspoken invitation. To her relief, he followed her inside.

  "And I can live with that," Perrie continued, shrugging out of her jacket. "If you can understand how important my job is to me. It's my whole life."

  He took a step forward, then gazed down into her eyes. Gently, he drew his fingers along her cheek, and with a start, she realized that he'd removed his gloves. The contact sent a current of desire racing through her.

  "There's more to your life than that, Perrie," he murmured.

  She opened her mouth to contradict him, but the words that came out were not what she intended to say. "I want you to kiss me," she blurted. A flush of heat rising on her cheeks betrayed her mortification and she looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

  He took her chin between his thumb and finger and forced her eyes back to his. "I want to kiss you."

  But he didn't bend closer, didn't bring his lips down on hers. Instead, he slowly let his hands drift down from her face, running his fingers along her shoulders until his caress reached her breasts.

  Perrie closed her eyes as he cupped the soft flesh in his palms, his warmth seeping through the layers of clothes until she could almost imagine his skin touching hers. She held her breath and he lingered there for a long time, teasing at her nipples until they were hard against his touch. When she opened her eyes again, he was staring down at her, his blue eyes glazed with unmistakable desire.

  Slowly, the caress dropped lower, her skin tingling with every delicious inch. Her belly, her hips, her backside. And then he slipped his hands beneath the layers of sweaters she wore and began to work his way back up to where he began.

  Still he didn't kiss her, though he moved close, his lips hovering over hers. His soft, uneven breathing was all that touched her mouth. His quiet words drifted into her consciousness. She tried to understand their meaning, then realized that they were as disjointed as her own murmured pleas.