by Zara Cox
He shrugged, his lips twitching as if he wanted to smile before he grew serious. ‘I have a problem with those trucks too. And the mining and drilling, if that makes you feel better.’
‘Let’s talk hypothetically. Or better... I’ll give you one minute to pitch me your version of how this would go if you were in charge.’
Perhaps it was a trick of the light. Perhaps I was imagining it. Or perhaps that lance of searing awareness that tunnelled through me was really a result of that look I’d caught on his face. The look that tugged at that desperate need again. The one that said were I to put him on his knees, Jensen Scott wouldn’t mind. That perhaps he would even...welcome it?
My heart leapt, even as I tried to throttle down its wild sprint. What if my instinct was wrong? It wouldn’t be the first time I’d misjudged a potential suitor. Wouldn’t be the first time I’d wholeheartedly trusted my instinct only to end up with ashes.
Still... I stared at him. Watched his face tighten with rejection. But not before I caught a look that treacherously resembled...longing.
Perhaps longing he resented me for?
He turned away, breaking eye contact to lean down to pet the nearest husky. ‘I’d pick one person to be the face of your campaign. Find a way to feature everyone else in another capacity. Your cause might mean something to every one of your crew, but they don’t all need to be here to make it count. One person can represent a million.’
For some reason his sound argument made my mouth dry, my heart beat just a touch faster. ‘And who would you pick—again, if you were in charge?’
This time I saw a tangible reaction to my deliberate choice of words. His jaw clenched, his nostrils thinning. ‘You want to make an impact. Pick the person who has the biggest voice.’ He stared at me in that direct and pointed way that left me in no doubt who he meant.
‘Me.’
He shrugged. ‘You decide.’ Glacial eyes met mine. ‘I’m not in charge.’ You are.
It was a silent gauntlet thrown at my feet. A brief relinquishing of his control as his eyes deliberately dropped.
Was this a test? Would he dare?
Something heavy and profound unfurled inside me, threatening to unleash that forbidden yearning I’d kept in chains. Again, he turned away, this time to check the reins attached to his sled.
Look at me when I’m talking to you.
I bit back the words, took a steadying breath. ‘I’ve spent a considerable amount of time and money to make this shoot happen. Leaving empty-handed would make me very unhappy.’
He tensed for a moment, but he didn’t look up.
My heart beat faster. ‘Do you want me to be disappointed, Mr Scott?’
‘Jensen,’ he offered with a low but distinct rasp, still without looking at me. ‘Call me Jensen.’
A surge of blood roaring in my ears made me dizzy for a moment. Then a peculiar elation rushed through my veins. One I desperately wanted to deny but found I wasn’t quite ready to. Not just yet. Not until I was absolutely sure this man who effortlessly blended into this landscape as if born to it was what...who my instincts were screaming him to be.
A submissive.
‘Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to send everyone but the most essential crew away. And you’re going to stay and deliver the shoot you promised me.’
He stopped toying with the reins and turned around. When his gaze met mine, his face was carefully neutral, making me doubt my instinct. ‘You don’t have the right equipment to travel over long distances and different terrain. Your PM was very vague with my agent—now I know why. I came here to find out more about what you need from me...from this project before I started. Even with what you deem an essential crew, you’ll have to wait for more sleds to arrive from Utqiagvik. That’ll take the better part of half a day.’
I raised my eyebrows as, for whatever reason, my heart banged even harder against my ribs. ‘So you’re suggesting no crew at all?’
‘At the most, I can make room for one more on the sled. Any more means more weight on the sleds and more weight for huskies to pull.’
Just you and me... ‘You want me to stay here on my own. With you?’
His eyes glinted before they blinked back into careful neutrality. ‘Have you been keeping an eye on the weather reports?’
Someone on my crew had. ‘Of course.’
He looked sceptical. ‘Then you’ll know that in less than three days’ time the sun will set for the next couple of months. Today and tomorrow are your only chances to get the variety of photographs you want.’ He waited a couple of beats, no doubt for his words to sink in. Then he took a breath. ‘What’s it to be, Miss Mortimer?’
Call me Graciela.
It was an automatic invitation to new acquaintances and potential donors. Call me Graciela was so I wouldn’t be reminded that I was a Mortimer. That the blood of an unfeeling, dysfunctional dynasty ran through my veins. It reminded me of the many times I’d attempted to correct that dysfunction, when I thought I knew better, believed I was different. A misguided, cruelly awakening time I would wipe my brain clean of if I could.
The words hovered on my lips but never emerged.
Because I wanted clear, definitive boundaries between myself and this man.
Boundaries I was curious to see whether he would breach. Whether he would prove me wrong.
Or...right.
Dangerous, forbidden boundaries. The kind that had the power to wreck my sleep, turn my daydreams inside out with dark yearning.
‘Larry,’ I called out without taking my eyes off Jensen. His gaze stayed on my face, dropped to my mouth for a charged moment before returning to mine.
I heard Larry hurry over. ‘Gracie?’
‘Tell the crew to pack up.’
‘We’re leaving?’ The disappointment in Larry’s voice was distinct.
I gave a single shake of my head. ‘Everyone else is. I’m staying.’
‘Oh? For how long?’
‘As long as it takes. What will I need, Mr Scott?’
He didn’t correct me this time or invite me to use his given name. ‘I have a satellite phone, but if you wish to keep yours, two is better than one. A couple of changes of clothes, in case you get wet.’
‘Food? Water?’
He shook his head. ‘I have enough to get us through the day.’ A hint of hard smile tilted the corners of his lips. ‘Be warned, it’s more utilitarian than gourmet.’
I let the mild insult bounce off me. If my instinct was correct, he’d learn his lesson soon enough. ‘I can rough it for a day or two without expiring from the horror of it all.’ I looked past him to the covered trailer attached to his sled. ‘Speaking of roughing it, where will I be sleeping?’ Thoughts of my warm hotel suite back in Anchorage filled me with longing for a short moment before I pushed them away.
Did he just swallow? ‘I have a tent if we decide to stop for the night. Or my cabin is a couple of hours’ sled ride away.’
Larry cleared his throat. I glanced at him to find him frowning. ‘Are you...you’re really staying here on your own?’
The veiled ‘Are you mad?’ in his tone drew equal amounts of irritation and amusement. But more than that, it drew intrigue and possibilities directed at the man standing tall and delicious in front of me. Twin emotions I hadn’t allowed myself to experience in a long time. Because inevitably both had led to painful disappointment.
‘There’s a chance to salvage something from this debacle. Or would you rather I scrap it and call it a failure?’ I asked Larry.
‘Of course not. I just meant...’ He paused, casting a dark glance at Jensen.
‘I think your PM is worried about your safety,’ Jensen said with a trace of amusement.
I didn’t smile back. I was a Mortimer after all. And as with most individuals with nine or more zeros attached to
their bank balances, I’d been at the receiving end of a few security scares. I couldn’t afford to be blasé about it, even in an icy wilderness like Alaska. ‘Should he be?’ I tossed at him.
Every trace of humour vanished. ‘I won’t let any harm come to you. You have my word.’
For a taut stretch our gazes locked, unspoken words arcing between us. ‘Instruct the crew,’ I told Larry without taking my eyes off Jensen. ‘No need to freeze here if you don’t have to. Tell Elsa to pack me a change of clothes and get going. I’ll check in tonight.’
He knew better than to argue with me. Barely ten minutes later the small camp was all packed up and aboard the helicopters.
The apprehension I should’ve felt at being alone with this...captivating stranger was curiously absent as I watched my crew leave. Behind me, Jensen stashed my bag under the tarp covering the trailer then approached. I didn’t look his way as he stopped next to me.
‘I spotted a mother bear and her cubs feeding about half an hour from here near a broken ice floe. We can start there if you want?’
I shifted my gaze from watching the choppers turn into dark specks in the sky. ‘You’ve had that information since you got here and chose not to share it?’
He shrugged, drawing my attention to one broad shoulder. ‘It wouldn’t have helped if you hadn’t been inclined to see things my way. In the time it would’ve taken to gather your crew to get there, they’d have been gone.’
Neat answer while delivering the punch he no doubt intended to. ‘You don’t think very highly of me, do you?’ There was a distinct sting to that knowledge, one quite different from the dull throb of pain I’d experienced over decades of holding my emotions inside.
‘I don’t know you. I’m only going on what I’ve seen so far.’
‘Are you? Then why do I get the impression you’ve already made up your mind about me? Is it perhaps because you believe you know me despite us having only just met?’
‘Are you accusing me of something, Miss Mortimer?’
I studied the profile he insisted on presenting to me. There was a tightness around his mouth and jaw that spoke to more than the face-value conversation taking place. ‘Yes, I am.’
His delicious lips pursed for a second. Then he exhaled. ‘The dogs are rested; we can probably make it in time if we leave now.’
‘Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m accusing you of?’
His gaze finally turned my way, and the endless depth of icy emotion swimming within nearly made me sway. ‘No. My statement goes both ways. You don’t know me either, so whatever you think of me is most likely flawed.’
‘Ah. So that’s how we’re going to proceed, is it?’ I asked softly. But he caught the steel I hadn’t disguised. ‘First, we skirt each other warily, assessing weaknesses before we land the first punch?’
This time his lips twisted in a cynical twitch. ‘I’m sure you have far better things to do than to waste time delving into what makes me tick.’
His tone suggested he applied a very heavy vice versa to his statement. And despite the icy weather, my blood heated up. I reined in sweet, exhilarating control with a subtle clench of my fingers.
‘You’re right. But I wouldn’t have needed the time anyway. I know exactly who you are, Mr Scott.’ This time the gleam in his eyes was fairly mocking. But before he could tailor words to that look, I added, ‘And I also know exactly what you are.’
The gleam faded as if extinguished, his face settling into an inscrutable mask. And even though his gaze stayed on mine, everything about him bristled with restlessness. An almost visceral need to...deny.
Except he couldn’t. Not without denying a vital part of himself. Not without perhaps...letting himself down? But he strained against exposing his true self to me until his struggle was as real as the snow beneath his feet.
God, what had happened to him?
An equally visceral need to know attacked me, punching right through my defences to that secret vault I’d sealed shut once and for all.
Five seconds ticked by. Ten.
After twenty, his head snapped forward, his jaw jutting out with aggression that spoke of his turmoil. An aggression I wanted to wield beneath my fingers. To test and twist and mould into something sublime.
My breath shuddered out, astonishment at my train of thought nearly overwhelming me.
‘The day needn’t be wasted. Or we can waste time and your money on a hypothesis that leads nowhere.’
I allowed myself a small laugh, saw a slight tensing of a different kind in his frame as he heard it. ‘My hypothesis is definitely leading somewhere. Otherwise why else would you be so wound up? But by all means let’s change the subject.’ I waved a hand at the vast white tundra. ‘Take me to your mama bear, Mr Scott.’
CHAPTER TWO
SHE WAS A SPOILT, overindulged princess.
The kind who watched a few episodes of a reality show about surviving in the wilds of Alaska and suddenly decided they wanted to dabble in nature. The type who got it into their heads that stroking a seal or two and posting a selfie with the Arctic wildlife or atop the odd ice floe automatically granted them environmental activist status.
I didn’t need to look back at where she was perched on the sled behind me to visualise her clutching her collar, grimacing at the intensifying wind. I was surprised she hadn’t whipped out her sleek satellite phone and ordered her chopper to come pick her up.
The bear family might have moved in the time she’d been ordering her staff about.
The time she’d spent analysing me with those stunning hazel eyes, deciding whether to toy with me or not.
Muscles jumped in my stomach. As hard as I tried to ignore the sensation, what I’d seen in her hooded, sultry eyes still sent fresh waves of apprehension through me. Not the kind that had anything to do with the work she’d hired me for. That I could do with one hand tied behind my back and one eye closed.
No, the kind of sensation that look had elicited...that fucking craving.
I shook my head, partly to clear it, partly in denial.
Dammit, she’d seen it. Then she’d spotted my efforts at denial...
I gritted my teeth and unnecessarily flicked the reins attached to the dogs. The huskies were highly trained, would respond to the softest whistle or voice command, which made the reins largely superfluous.
Or, hell, was that particular symbolism for me? Was I so hard up, I was now expressing myself through my bloody dogs?
Dammit.
I didn’t need this. I should’ve left Graciela Mortimer’s little ice circus the moment I confirmed her project manager had lied to my agent in order to secure my services.
More than any other flaw, I hated lies. And the people who told them.
Large. Medium. Tiny white lies. Every single one of them came with wrecking balls that altered lives, changed the dynamics of relationships, no matter how much we fooled ourselves into believing otherwise.
How many had my mother told my sister and me in order to avoid facing the glaring truth?
I’m all right. It doesn’t hurt. He’ll change. And the worst lie of them all: he loves us.
Even before my fifth birthday, I’d known that statement for a lie. And for the decade after that, that fabrication had been exposed time and again until, like poisonous acid, it’d begun to erode my relationship with my mother.
Of course, I knew now it’d been her way of coping, the delusion her own form of security blanket. Hadn’t I risked falling into that same pattern of delusion until I’d wised up as a grown man? Hadn’t I made allowances for Stephanie’s lies just to hang on to what I thought was a solid relationship, all the while knowing that trust, once broken with lies, never—
‘How close are we, Mr Scott?’
Of course her voice would have to melt my insides. Visions of heated honey...no, more like the
anticipation of watching melted wax in the moment before it hit my skin. The sharp burn before the breathless, sizzling warmth.
That was what Graciela Mortimer’s voice had evoked the moment she’d spoken the words I’m in charge.
Lort!
I should’ve left after imparting my thoughts on what she was proposing to do. Which would’ve been easy considering I hadn’t wanted to do this gig anyway. Regardless of the fact that my own company had been driving me insane. Regardless of the fact that I hated myself a little for not being able to stay the course of what was left of my month-long self-imposed hermitage.
I should’ve left.
Instead, here I was, secretly yearning to hear that voice again. To do that, though, I’d have to engage her in conversation.
‘Ten more minutes. Give or take,’ I threw over my shoulder. The GPS co-ordinates I’d noted on my watch would see us there in less time, but I’d learned to make allowances on unknown terrain.
Silence greeted me. Against my will, I looked over my shoulder.
Despite the stylish shades covering her eyes, I felt her gaze boring into mine with unapologetic directness that tunnelled lightning straight into my veins. It singed me into life, making me aware of every inch of my skin, and especially the rush of blood to my groin.
This was why I hadn’t walked away.
Yet.
‘Give or take what?’ she asked with a slight arch of a silky eyebrow.
Good question. My sanity? Another sign that my screaming instincts were right? That she wasn’t merely toying with me?
But fuck, where the hell did I get off trusting my instincts when they’d let me down spectacularly so very recently with Stephanie?
‘Mr Scott, while I have a thing for the strong, silent type...on occasion, this isn’t one of them. I will need you to actually engage with me here.’
The dry amusement in her tone should’ve raised my hackles further. And yet it drew a wry smile. And what was it with that Mr Scott when I’d invited her to use my first name?
Perhaps because she didn’t need invitation. She commands it.
