by Susan Cliff
After she’d set the book aside, squirming, the image continued to haunt her. She wondered if the act itself was as enjoyable as the artist’s depiction. Duane hadn’t attempted that kind of foreplay, and she hadn’t asked him for it. Near the end of their relationship, she’d avoided his touch as much as possible. His lack of finesse in the bedroom had been the least of their problems.
Cam struck her as a generous lover. Eager to please, willing to go slow. He probably wouldn’t hesitate to kiss her wherever she wished. He might even do it without any prompting. Her cheeks flushed at the thought.
She stepped out of the stall and dried off as well as she could with two washcloths. The chilly air gave her goose bumps, but that was okay. She needed to cool down. Shivering, she tugged on fresh panties, socks and leggings. She didn’t bother with a bra under her sweatshirt. She let down her hair and combed the waves with her fingers. As she finished dressing, she heard a noise outside the bathroom.
Voices.
Tala froze, listening to shuffled footsteps and low murmurs. Someone was in the room. More than one person, by the sound. She swallowed hard, gathering her belongings to her chest. There were no windows in the bathroom, no escape routes. Nothing to use as a weapon. There were only washcloths. Two damp, two dry.
She opened the door and looked out. Two female strangers stared back at her. One had dark hair with purple and blue streaks. The other was older, with short gray hair. They both wore black leather vests with patches on the front. The older woman offered Tala a tentative smile.
“Hello,” she said. “I’m Fran, and this is my daughter, Lily.”
“Tala,” she replied, nodding hello. She walked toward the bed she’d claimed earlier and started rearranging her backpack. She felt jittery and paranoid, though the women were clearly not a threat. She was glad she hadn’t charged out of the bathroom with her fists raised. Fran and Lily didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. They got settled on the opposite side of the room, chatting about their dinner plans.
“Are you a truck driver?” Fran asked Tala.
“No, I’m just tagging along with one.” She told the story Cam had suggested about catching a lift to a waitress job in Prudhoe Bay.
“We’re with the tour group,” Fran said. She pointed to the patches on her vest. “Denali Devils Motorcycle Club. We ride the Dalton together every summer. This year we decided to check it out in winter.”
Tala folded her jeans and tucked them away. “Is everyone on the tour in your motorcycle club?”
“Yep. The rest of the members are all men. Lily’s the youngest in the club.”
Lily rolled her eyes at her mother’s proud announcement, but Tala thought it was sweet. She was also relieved by the information. If everyone on the bus was a Denali Devil, the killers weren’t among them. That was one less thing to worry about tonight.
“You should have dinner with us,” Fran said. “Then you don’t have to eat with the truckers.”
“I don’t mind truckers,” Tala said.
A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Tala went to answer it, but Fran was closer. The older woman opened the door to Cam.
“Hello, there,” she said, blinking up at him. She seemed startled by the sight of a tall, broad-shouldered man in the hallway.
Cam nodded a greeting and looked past Fran. “I brought your dinner,” he said to Tala in a gruff voice.
Tala moved forward to accept the offering. Fran smiled at her encouragingly. Instead of introducing him, Tala stepped into the hall and closed the door behind her. She knew Cam didn’t want an audience for their conversation.
“Making friends?” Cam asked.
“The entire tour group is a motorcycle club. They’re all together.”
“Okay,” he said, shrugging.
She studied his handsome face. He looked tense, and tired. His thick brown hair was slightly disheveled, his eyes bloodshot. There was something else in his gaze, a cold wariness she hadn’t seen since Willow. It was as if he’d decided, in the hour they’d been apart, that she wasn’t worth the trouble.
Her heart clenched at the thought.
She wished she could wrap her arms around him and stroke his rumpled hair. She’d soothe his fears and ease his fatigue. She’d kiss away whatever ailed him, and in doing so, heal herself. But she couldn’t do those things, because they weren’t in a private place, and she wasn’t free to touch him.
“Are you going to bed?” she asked.
“I might hit the gym first.”
“There’s a gym?”
“There’s a weight bench and a few barbells. It’s not for you.”
She didn’t argue. She’d love to stretch her legs and burn off some excess energy, but she understood his position. He’d taken a risk by bringing her here. It was better if she stayed out of sight, as planned.
“We leave at six, sharp.”
“I’ll be ready,” she said. “Sleep well.”
He gave her a dark look and strode down the hall. He seemed irritated with her. Maybe he regretted getting involved in her problems. Maybe he just needed space. She went back inside the room, rattled by his brusque attitude. Lily and Fran wore curious expressions.
“Was that your trucker?” Fran asked.
“I’m riding with him, yes.”
“Now I see why you don’t mind truckers,” Lily said.
Fran winked at Lily. “I wouldn’t either, if they all looked like that!”
Both women laughed merrily. Tala didn’t join in. She returned to her spot on the bed, feeling glum. She avoided eye contact, and they didn’t ask her any more personal questions. After they left the room, she inspected the meal Cam had brought her. It was a tasty pasta dish with chicken and vegetables. She ate every bite. Then she brushed her teeth and crawled under the blankets, wide awake.
She shouldn’t have taken that nap earlier. She was going to toss and turn all night. She tried reading, but she couldn’t focus on the story. She kept flipping back to the sexy bits and staring at the bare-breasted woman.
Groaning, she buried the book in her backpack.
When Fran and Lily returned, she closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep. They were nice enough, but she didn’t want to talk. She wanted to curl up with Cam and make them both feel good again.
Someone turned off the lights. It was dark and quiet. Tala couldn’t stop thinking about Cam. His hot kisses and bold hands. The feel of his muscles beneath her fingertips. Heat built between her legs. She pressed her thighs together, unable to ease the ache. She couldn’t touch herself with two strangers in the room.
After an interminable length of time, she gave up on sleeping. She rose from the bed, grabbed her shoes and tiptoed out the door.
There was nowhere to go, of course. She couldn’t take a walk outside in swirling snow and below-freezing temperatures. The lights in the restaurant were dimmed. Lily had complained about the camp being “dry.” There wasn’t a bar or alcohol of any kind. There wasn’t even internet or Wi-Fi.
Tala knew they had a phone in the front office. She imagined calling her mother and explaining her predicament. She’d have to spill all the details about Duane and admit that she’d made a mistake in marrying him. While she was baring her soul, she might as well say she wished she’d been a better daughter.
She rejected that depressing idea. There would be no tearful confessions tonight. She wasn’t going to call her mother at this late hour. She wasn’t going to break down and cry in the middle of the hallway, either.
She needed some other kind of release.
Cam had been clear in his instructions. Stay in the room, stay out of sight. She couldn’t go around knocking on the doors to the men’s bunks. What would she say if she found him? Excuse me, I know you’re in a bad mood, but could you please do page 36 to me?
She choked on a laugh as s
he crept down the hall. There was a light at the end, beckoning her to explore farther. She moved toward it with silent steps. She could hear the sounds of clinking metal and ragged breaths.
The gym!
She paused at the end of the hallway, which split into a T. The light was coming from an open door on the left side. She continued forward, her pulse racing. When she reached the threshold, she peered inside.
Cam was there. He was alone, stretched out on his back on a weight bench. He lifted a bar away from his chest, arms fully extended. Then he lowered it, releasing a breath. His biceps quivered and glistened with sweat. Up, down. Up, down. It was mesmerizing.
He was wearing a basic gray T-shirt, despite the chill. Clearly, he wasn’t cold. His legs were covered in a pair of charcoal gray sweatpants. Athletic shoes took the place of his steel-toed boots. His stomach clenched with every lift, drawing her attention to the flat muscles there. And lower, where he wasn’t flat. The hem of his T-shirt had ridden up, and the elastic band of his underwear was visible at his narrow waist. With his feet planted on either side of the bench, powerful thighs spread, she had an unfettered view of his crotch. The soft fabric of his sweatpants did nothing to disguise his manhood.
Her mouth went dry at the sight. She’d never understood why some people objected to women wearing leggings in public, but not men wearing sweatpants. The second was more revealing, considering the outward projection of male anatomy.
On his next rep, Cam placed the bar on the rack and sat up. He used the edge of his T-shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, treating her to a glimpse of his washboard abs. He didn’t look pleased to see her, but it was too late to retreat. She’d already been caught staring. She might as well stay and brazen it out.
“What do you want?” he asked.
Oh, boy. That was a loaded question. “I couldn’t sleep,” she said, venturing into the gym. It wasn’t much of a gym. There was a weight bench, some barbells and a wrestling mat. One of the walls was mirrored.
He stretched out on his back and did another ten reps. She stood there with her arms crossed over her chest, trying not to ogle him.
“Isn’t it dangerous to lift weights like that?” she asked.
“Like what?”
“Without a spotter.”
He returned the bar to the rack. “I don’t need a spotter for light reps. I’m not going to get trapped under a hundred pounds.”
She nodded her understanding. His gaze trailed over her body, as if wondering how it might feel to get trapped underneath her. Although she weighed quite a bit more than a hundred pounds, she imagined he could lift her up and down with ease.
He arched a brow. “Is watching me work out going to help you sleep?”
“Probably not,” she said, glancing around. There was a jump rope sitting in a plastic crate in the corner. She picked it up and started her own workout.
Jumping rope without a bra on was not recommended. She stopped after about two minutes, her cheeks hot. Cam’s lips twitched with amusement, but he didn’t say anything. He also didn’t avert his gaze. She returned the rope to the crate and switched to yoga. Although it was a low-impact exercise, it wasn’t easy. Holding the poses required strength and endurance. She tried not to feel self-conscious about twisting and bending over in snug leggings. Her sweatshirt rode up several times, exposing her belly.
Cam didn’t sit idly for long. Nor did he continue smiling. Jaw clenched with irritation, he grabbed the jump rope and approached the mirrored wall. He did a Rocky Balboa routine that was almost as impressive as his weightlifting. He jumped with both feet together, lightning-fast, never tiring. The man was a machine.
A beautiful machine, with broad shoulders and a tight butt.
She moved into a challenging position and held it for as long as possible, eyes closed. Breathing in and out. She didn’t achieve total zen, but she felt better when she was finished. She collapsed on the mat. Cam sat down on the bench again. They were both sweating. He didn’t seem more relaxed, post workout. He was still on edge.
“Where did you learn yoga?” he asked.
“At the library in Willow. They had free classes several days a week.”
He grunted in response, wiping his face with his T-shirt.
She hugged her knees to her chest. “Is something wrong?”
“You told me you were arrested for civil disobedience.”
“Yes.”
“Was that it? Nothing else?”
Her stomach fluttered with unease. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I’m taking a risk by traveling with you, and I have the right to know who I’m getting involved with.”
His request wasn’t unreasonable. She liked the sound of them “getting involved.” Maybe a frank conversation would make him feel better and break the tension between them. He’d listened to her talk about Duane without judging. She could tell him this. “The charges were civil disobedience and assaulting an officer,” she admitted.
“Did you plead guilty?”
“I told you, I never went to court.”
“Were you going to plead guilty?”
“I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to lie under oath.”
“What do you mean?”
She swallowed hard. “Let me start at the beginning. I went to a protest rally in Whitehorse with Duane. He wouldn’t let me go alone, and I was desperate to leave the house. I thought it would be good for both of us. Like old times.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“No. He put on a black ski mask as soon as we got there, because he didn’t want to be recognized. There was a big crowd, with military police in heavy gear. He started drinking heavily and acting really aggressive.”
“More aggressive than usual?”
“Yes. I wanted to leave, but he refused. We were following a group of guys with their faces covered, like him. They were kicking over trash cans and breaking stuff. The police used smoke bombs, and most of the protesters dispersed. Duane bought me a beer, which I accepted to placate him. Then something set him off. I’m not sure what. He grabbed the bottle from me and chucked it at one of the officers. It hit him in the back of the head.” She touched her own head, shuddering.
“What did Duane do?”
“He ran in the opposite direction. I didn’t see him go, because I was walking toward the officer. I wanted to see if he was okay. When I knelt down beside him, two other officers tackled me and handcuffed me.”
“Why did they think you did it?”
“I kept saying I was sorry, and... I was afraid to say anything else.”
“You were willing to take the blame?”
“I didn’t make a statement one way or another. I asked my public defender to file for a postponement, and she did. Duane said he’d lose his job if I told the truth, but if I pleaded guilty, I’d get community service.”
“He’s full of shit. No one gets community service for assaulting a police officer. Not even in Canada.”
She narrowed her eyes at his certainty. “You’re familiar with the law?”
“Yeah, I am,” he said in a flat voice. “I used to be a cop.”
Her heart plummeted. She scrambled to her feet, thunderstruck. Panic and betrayal washed over her in cold waves. She’d told him intensely personal things. Incriminating things. She shouldn’t have trusted him.
“You lied to me.”
He rose to his full height. “I didn’t lie.”
“I asked if you were a cop, and you said no.”
“I’m not a cop anymore. I quit.”
She shook her head in denial. He still acted like a cop, with his protective instincts and Boy Scout attitude. Her gut reaction had been right. “You kept it secret for a reason. You knew I wouldn’t stay with you if you told the truth.”
“What about your secrets?” he shot back angrily.
“You haven’t been honest with me, either. You never said you were facing serious charges. I don’t know what the hell is going on. I don’t even know who you’re running from!”
She swallowed a protest, even though the criticism felt unfair. She hadn’t withheld information to deceive him. She’d done it to protect him, and herself.
“You’re not as innocent as you pretend to be,” he said.
She sputtered with outrage. “I’m not pretending to be anything.”
He stepped forward, crowding her space. “I’m not a fool, Tala. I know you didn’t come here to work out.”
Her hand itched to slap him. He was making insulting accusations. They’d both been dishonest—and they were both suffering from the same malady. He wanted her. That was his real problem. She was upsetting his grieving-widower applecart. She was getting under his skin. “Why did I come here, then?”
“To torture me.”
“You’re delusional.”
“Am I?”
“Yes,” she said, shoving his chest. He didn’t budge. “You think you’re the only one who gets stir-crazy? I’ve been trapped inside a truck for two days, just like you. I need to move around, just like you. I feel restless, too.”
“What I feel is sexual frustration, not restlessness.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“So you wandered over here to make it worse?”
“No. I wandered over here to make it better.”
His eyes flared with heat. “Don’t tease me.”
“I’m not teasing.”
She didn’t touch him. She just waited for him to touch her, and he didn’t disappoint. Thrusting his hands in her hair, he crushed his mouth over hers. She parted her lips eagerly, inviting him inside. He plundered her with his tongue, groaning. She wrapped her arms around his neck and reveled in him. His taste, hot and demanding. His hard chest and strong shoulders. The smell of damp cotton and warm man.
