Polar Heat

by Simone Beaudelaire

  She drew a key out of her purse and unlocked a door, beckoning to him and staring pointedly at a dangerous hump in the carpet. He stepped over and entered her apartment.

  Here, some of the shabbiness had been spruced up with fresh paint and colorful rag rugs covering the stained floor. Though only a small studio, Riley had worked hard to make the place homey with thrift store paintings and colorful dishes in the glass front cabinets opposite the door. A bold red rooster adorned a hand towel hanging from the oven door. A matching ceramic spoon rest brightened the stove top. To the right, a tiny table and two chairs stood between cheap second hand bookshelves groaning with equally cheap second-hand books. To the left, a brass day bed had been left open; a thick white quilt lay crumpled on top. On a table beside the bed/sofa a heavy, leather-framed book sat open, yellowed pages heavily marked with notes in a spidery, slanted hand.

  “Nice place,” he commented.

  “Not compared to your cabin,” Riley replied.

  “Who's comparing?” Russ asked, moving to examine the book more closely as Riley opened a wardrobe and tossed her crumpled, sink-washed clothes into a laundry basket inside, and then moved naked across the room to rummage in a slender dresser. A minute later, clad in jeans, turtleneck and sweater, with thick, multicolored socks on her feet, she sighed with comfort.

  “That's better. I thought I was going to freeze just walking across town.”

  “It's a real possibility,” Russ warned her. “Winter in Alaska is nothing to mess around with.” His eyes traveled around the room again. “This is kind of a shitty building. I mean, you've done nice things with the room, but still.”

  Riley shrugged. “I'm not ready to buy or build a house yet. I think I should work here at least a year and be sure I can stand the town before I make any permanent commitments. Since the only other rental is a five bedroom house I don't need, this will do. What choice do I have?”

  Russell slipped his arms around Riley's waist from behind and rested his chin on the top of her head. “You do have an option, you know. My home is always open to you.”

  She stiffened. “Russ, I…” her words trailed off.

  “I know you're not ready to think about it now, honey. But I really did like having you there. If you want to move in, you're more than welcome. There's a place in bed beside me waiting for you.”

  Riley turned in Russell's arms and looked up into his eyes. “I'll think about that. I mean, seriously think whether it's a good idea. I'm not brushing you off.”

  “I know you're not, Riley. I understand it's not a decision to make on the fly. I didn't expect you to say yes today.”

  “I probably will at some point,” she admitted, her cheeks pinkening again.

  “Just can't get enough, can you?” he teased, just to see that blush grow. Riley didn't disappoint.

  “Kiss me, you evil man,” she said, half laughing as she drew him down. Russell lingered a long moment with his lips on Riley's. Her taste intoxicated him. Being mated felt fantastic, much better than he would ever have imagined. He was loving every moment.

  “Hmmm,” he replied, half in a hum, half in an ursine growl of pleasure. “Are you cold?” he teased, running his fingers over her side.

  She squeaked and jerked away from him. “Cut that out! No, I'm practically sweating. You're better than a furnace, Russell.”

  “Good.” He kissed her lips. “Are you hungry?”

  “I could eat. But I suspect you ask because you are.”

  He shook his head. “You know me too well, babe.” He turned to head toward the door, but his eye was snared again by the massive book sitting open on the table, the text nearly obscured with a spidery scrawl.

  “What is this?” he asked, peeking over his shoulder at her.

  Riley's smile turned sad. “My only legacy from my father,” she replied. “This was one of his favorite books. He quoted it for everything.”

  Russell gently closed the cover and saw that it was a leather-bound copy of the writings of St. Francis of Assisi.

  “Interesting choice,” Russell commented.

  “My father was a gentle soul,” she replied. “It hurt him deeply when he found out my brother had been… doing what he did.” She shuddered.

  Russ turned and rose, snuggling up against her body. “I'm here, Riley. I'm always here for you. He can't hurt you anymore.”

  “I know,” she replied, though her tone was far from steady.

  “And you couldn't have put any greater distance between you, Riley. Not without leaving the country. You saved yourself first. You're strong and brave.”

  “I'm a mouse and I ran like hell.” She regarded him with haunted, regret-filled eyes. “I gave him everything that was mine and I ran away.”

  “What do you mean?” Russ asked, wishing he could read her mind. Clearly this was something she needed to get off her chest, but he could see her flinching with her desire not to do it. “What did you give him?”

  Riley tried to withdraw from his embrace.

  “No, honey, don't pull away. I saw your dream, remember. Didn't your brother go to jail?”

  Silence stretched out in the tiny studio. Outside, Russ could hear the wind whistling among the buildings, the honks and revving engines of traffic streaming past. “He did,” she burst out, as though desperate to get the words said before she lost her nerve. “He served several years for assault… not of me. But eventually he got out. While my father was alive, he kept Danny away from me. But then he died.” She sniffled.

  “How did he die?” Russell asked kindly. “Was he ill?”

  “No,” she sucked in a noisy breath. “He had a stroke. He seemed fine when I went home, but the next day he didn't answer his phone. I went to his home… he was lying in bed…” her voice broke, but she muscled on. “Cold and gray. I don't want to remember him as a corpse, Russ.”

  “Of course not.” He stroked her hair. “Was he young? Was it a shock?”

  “Not young,” she admitted. “He was over fifty when I was born. He lived to be seventy-three. It was a shock, but not completely unexpected. His blood pressure, you know?”

  Russell kissed her cheek. “I'm sorry you had to see him that way. So, you told me he was a scholar. Can you remember him like that? With this book in his hands?”

  She laughed through a sob. “Yes. I don't have to try hard for that. He carried it everywhere, lost it all the time.”

  “I can picture it,” Russ replied. “Riley, what happened?”

  Her shoulders stiffened. “When he… passed, I inherited everything he had,” Riley said. “Our house. His car. All his possessions. He left me everything.”

  He can't have had much, Russell thought. Scholars are seldom wealthy.

  “It wasn't much,” Riley added, confirming his suspicions. “But that house was my childhood home. I was looking forward to living there. The studio I rented after I started teaching didn't measure up. And there was a small nest egg too. But really, I just wanted to go home. I missed him, and I wanted to be in a place that still felt and smelled like him. It was my home, and I wanted to go back, even if he wasn't there.”

  “I understand that, Riley. Trying to find your way home is… well you're not the only one who's felt that way.”

  “Yeah, well. About three months after Dad's passing, I woke up one night and Danny was there. He had a knife. And a paper. The paper was a legal form signing the house and all its contents, as well as all the bank accounts, over to him.”

  “Did he hurt you?” Russell asked, taking mental inventory of his lover's skin. He could recall no suspicious scars.

  “No,” she replied. “He didn't have to. Seeing him scared me enough… I signed the paper on the spot.” She buried her face in his shoulder. “See, I'm a coward.”

  Russell laid a hand on the center of her back. “You were scared. After what I saw in your dream, it's no wonder. Did he abuse you your whole childhood?”

  She shook her head side to side. “It was bad when I was
little. When Mom lived with us. She… she was usually not there.”

  “She left you alone together?” he demanded.

  Riley met his eyes, her lip wedged between her teeth. “No. Physically she was present, but mentally… she daydreamed a lot. Humming, but not to me. Did your mother sing to you, Russ?”

  “My mother died when I was a cub. I barely remember her. But she didn't sing that I'm aware of.”

  “Oh.” She blinked. “Well mine was always humming, a wordless little tune I've never run into anywhere else. I… I think she made it up. Anyway, she didn't always seem to realize I was there. I could talk right to her, and she wouldn't answer. I learned to fend for myself when I was very small, getting food out of the refrigerator. I would climb up on the sink for a drink of water. If she knew about Danny… well she never seemed to notice it.”

  Riley's arms snaked around Russell's neck. Sensing she needed a lot of comforting, he cradled her in a loving embrace. His lips brushed her forehead.

  “Where did she go, Riley?” he asked.

  “I don't know,” she replied. “I was about eight. One day she was there, and the next… gone. My father said she had left and wouldn't be back, but he wouldn't say more than that. He never did.”

  “That's sad,” Russ replied.

  Riley shrugged. “Much as I hate to say it, things got better after that, for me at least. My father was home more, which I loved. He paid attention to me. He also hired an au pair to watch over me. With her around, Danny didn't corner me nearly as often. I stuck to her like glue. I'm pretty sure she's the one who told my father what Danny was doing. I was sad when she got married and moved to Seattle.”

  “I bet,” Russell said. “Well I'm glad someone looked out for you, Riley.”

  “Me too.” Her face brightened. “A few years before Emma moved, Danny was sent to prison. He got in a bar fight and cut someone up with a knife. They called it attempted homicide. Sad for that guy, but good for me. I was able to finish school, get my teacher certification and teach for two years in safety. Dad's and my relationship was so strong then. I was blessed to have him.”

  “Sounds like it. I wish I could have met him.”

  “Me too. He would have liked you, Russ.”

  Russell wasn't so sure about that, but he didn't say so. Even a gentle soul might have an opinion about a bear hanging around his daughter.

  “So, I suppose,” he said, changing the subject, “that since you knew Danny wasn't afraid to use a knife on someone…”

  “It seemed wisest to give him what he wanted and get the hell out of town,” Riley finished for him. “It was hard to leave the house, let me tell you.”

  “I bet. Poor Riley. No wonder you looked so haunted when you first got to town.”

  “Do I still look that way?”

  He studied her and shook his head. “You look happy.” He kissed the end of her nose. “And I'm arrogant enough to take credit for it.”

  Riley laughed. “Silly man. You don't have to take credit. I was about to give it to you.”

  He smudged his lips over hers as his stomach let out a ferocious growl. “Come on. Let's get some food before I perish. After so much exertion over the last few days, I need fuel.”

  “Sounds good. Shall we?”

  Russell tucked Riley into her jacket before pulling on his own. A few moments later, clad in scarves, boots and mittens, they ventured into the icy street. The wind stole his breath for a moment, teasing him as it nipped his exposed skin. Riley shivered through all her layers. Luckily, this time their walk only consisted of a few blocks.

  The low, red-brick structure of the café stood out like a beacon in the twilight, drawing them into the cozy embrace of its interior. Inside, wood paneling barely peeped out between neon and tin signs advertising everything from beer to motor oil. A football game on the television over the bar had drawn a crowd, one of whom was the school's principal.

  “Russ,” Bill shouted over the din. Leaving the bar, he approached the couple. “How did you two weather the storm?” He glanced at Riley, who was unwrapping her scarf from around her neck. At the sight of her scarlet blush, he quickly amended, “Scratch that. Glad you two got through safely. Russ, your plane was retrieved Friday. Now that it's had a tree-ectomy and a new windshield installed, it should be good as new.”

  “Thank you,” Russ replied. “I appreciate that.”

  “No problem. You ready to hit it again tomorrow, Miss Jenkins?”

  “Yes, sir,” Riley replied. “I'm ready. Looking forward to it.”

  “Good girl.” A loud cheer from the vicinity of the bar drew the principal's gaze. “Damn. Missed a touchdown.”

  “Go enjoy the game,” Russ replied. “We're here to eat anyway.”

  “Okay. Later.” He wandered off.

  Russell hung Riley's outerwear on an overburdened coat rack near the door before escorting her to a table, his arm around her waist, keeping her plastered to his side. Heads turned, and eyes stared. Riley's face darkened to nearly purple.

  “What are you doing?” she hissed as they slid into a booth. “Were you showing me off or what?”

  “Yep,” Russ replied unrepentantly.

  “Is that really necessary?”

  “It is. Sorry if you're uncomfortable, Riley, but you're mine and I need people to know that. It's in my nature. Are you embarrassed to be with me?”

  She closed her eyes. “Of course not.”

  He reached across the table and clasped her hand. “Then what's the big deal? People will find out sooner or later.”

  “I know,” she replied. “I just don't like all the staring.”

  “I understand. But try not to be upset. This,” He lifted their joined hands and kissed her knuckle, “will only be news for a short time. Everyone expected it.”

  Riley sighed, still looking uncomfortable.

  “Something to drink?” Barbara asked, sauntering up, pencil poised over her notepad.

  “Coffee, please,” Russ requested. “It's damned cold outside.”

  “It's Alaska,” Barbara replied tartly. “You want warmth, try Hawaii. Riley?”

  “Hot chocolate sounds good,” Riley said.

  “I'll be right back with those.” Barbara tossed her hair. “Here are some menus, lovebirds. I'll be back in a few.”

  “I think I'll go into seclusion,” Riley said gloomily.

  Russell laughed.

  * * *

  The polar bear lumbered through the snow, snorting and making quiet moaning noises. Loneliness seemed to hold him in a grip more frozen than the icy crust beneath his feet. Throughout decades in near isolation, he'd never felt lonely. Not until this moment. This moment when Riley, his Riley, his mate, slept in her undersize apartment in town while he prowled the edges of his property fifteen miles away. He missed her. The pain felt as though something had been cut away, and yet he was aware how foolishly he was overreacting. She is only fifteen miles away. You can call her tomorrow, or even go see her. You'll see her on Tuesday night.

  The quality of the darkness changed from deepest night to pre-dawn. You'll have a hell of a day if you don't go to bed, Russ. Why stay up all night? The voice of reason pleaded with him, but his restless bear wouldn't be calmed. The animal wanted its mate. Wanted her snuggled beside him in the bed and knew the futility of trying to sleep without her.

  Stretching up on his hind legs, Russell shredded the bark of his favorite tree with enormous claws. I hope she decides to move in soon… or I might just camp outside her apartment.

  Chapter 7

  By Tuesday, Russell was about to lose his mind. Fatigue from two sleepless nights taxed even the bear's ability to cope, and the tepid, partial satisfaction he received from phone calls did not begin to assuage his longing for his girl. He waited half an hour outside the Golden school complex watching parents collect their little ones. The sight tightened his heart as he considered, for the first time in his life, what it would be like to pick up his own offspring from a schoo
l. His and Riley's. He felt a profound gratitude that his mate was a woman of such character. Yes, she was fragile and fearful, but she had the kindest heart.

  At last the children were gone and the teachers began to head for the parking lot. Lost in romantic daydreams, he almost missed Riley's arrival. Only the crunch of snow in front of him drew his attention to the petite, caramel-haired woman in front of him.

  “Hi,” she said shyly, her eyes skating away.

  “Hi,” he replied. Apparently his tongue had been rendered numb by the impact of her appearance. Was she always this beautiful? How can I be this hard hit by a woman I've slept with already? Not caring who might be watching, he laced his fingers into her hair and held her face immobile while he ravaged her mouth with a hot, wild kiss.

  “I missed you,” she mumbled against his lips.

  “Oh, Riley,” he rumbled, man and bear voicing the same sentiment, “missed doesn't even come close. Please…” He trailed off, unable to resist kissing her again. And again. And then again. Riley moaned and slipped her arms around his neck, tangling her tongue with his in shameless passion.

  A honking horn broke the lovers apart. “Get a room,” a male voice hollered. What a good idea.

  “Riley,” he murmured, “let's go back to your place. I need you right now.”

  “Okay,” she agreed.

  “I love you,” he said. Then he took her hand. The two of them raced through the town back to Riley's apartment. The moment the door clicked shut, jackets flew and then Russell had Riley pressed up against the wall. “Don't make me sleep alone again,” he urged.

  “No, of course not,” she replied. “This was hell.”

  “I'll get you wherever you need to be, but you have to stay with me.”

  “I will,” she vowed.

  “No more sleeping in studios.” He unzipped her pants and tugged them down her thighs.