Manhunt

  “Damn right!”

  He was the most outrageous, endearing, disarming man she’d ever met. She tried to simulate a scowl. “Where are your scruples?”

  “I think I left them in the kitchen.”

  “Well, you can retrieve them when you go out there to get me my ice cream.”

  Casey removed the bed tray and set it on the floor. “I’ll get you some ice cream if you’ll give me a kiss.”

  “What kind of kiss? Are you talking about a big kiss or a little kiss?”

  “A medium kind of kiss.”

  “Will there be other body parts involved in this kiss?” Alex asked, struggling to keep her voice stern. “Or is this just a lips kiss?”

  “Feeling spunky, huh? Better not tease me too much, that ice cream is looking doubtful.”

  “This is an important decision. I need more information.”

  Casey sighed. “I suppose I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands.”

  He watched her for a moment before leaning forward and claiming her mouth. His lips brushed across hers softly, testing the texture, enjoying her breathless expectation. Despite what she’d said back at the store, she’d wanted to be kissed, he thought. The attraction was there, constantly simmering below the surface. He could see it in her eyes, the interest and the wariness. He could sense it in her parted lips. He closed his eyes and deepened the kiss with deliberate languor.

  Alex buried her fingers in his thick hair and whispered his name in a rush of pleasure. Suddenly she was jolted back to reality. Enough, she mentally shouted, he’s not interested in marrying you. Don’t get involved. She opened her eyes in the middle of the kiss and sighed.

  “I don’t like the sound of that sigh,” Casey murmured.

  “It was a great kiss, but I’m afraid it’s over.”

  Man, this was going to be tough, he thought. The woman had willpower. He’d felt her yielding to him, felt the heat of her response, then the door closed and she was gone—off on a husband hunt. What a bummer. Casey, he silently asked himself, how could a smart guy like you get yourself into such a mess?

  He pushed away from her and stood. “I suppose you want your ice cream now?”

  “Yup.”

  She kept her gaze steady, not wanting to reveal her true feelings. She’d already shown more than she should have. Casey was getting to her. She hadn’t wanted to stop kissing him. He stoked a need in her that was hard to deny. And she liked him, that was the awful part. She could handle a physical attraction, but she was finding it more and more difficult to ignore the combination of emotions he aroused in her. She’d come to Alaska to find a nice dull husband, but her mind was becoming cluttered with Casey. If she wasn’t careful, she’d fall in love with him, and where would that leave her? Heartbroken and lonely and dissatisfied.

  Alex dressed quickly while Casey shuffled around in the kitchen. She was tired, and her muscles ached, but she forced herself to pull on jeans and a sweatshirt. She swung her backpack onto her shoulder and joined Casey. The luxury of a soft bed was tempting, but it wouldn’t be smart to stay here tonight. The less she saw of Casey, the better off she’d be.

  Casey wasn’t surprised when he saw her. If he were in her position, he’d turn tail and run, too. And because he was in his position, he taunted her. He handed her a dish of chocolate ice cream, leaned against the counter, and lazily crossed his arms over his chest. “Leaving?”

  Alex let ice cream melt on her tongue before answering. “Mmmm. I think it’s best if I sleep in the tent tonight.”

  “My bed is big and comfortable and warm. You’re going to regret leaving it.”

  His posture was casual, but there was an air of restrained energy about him. He reminded Alex of a cat hunting a mouse. He was waiting, he was amused by the chase, and he was anticipating success. Without realizing it, he’d issued a challenge to her. This was war, and Alex had no intention of losing.

  Chapter Five

  It was just past dawn when Alex crawled from her sleeping bag, inhaling cold air smelling of damp earth, alpine moss, and the hardy grasses that filled her property. Trees stood sentinel straight; no breeze disturbed them. Small birds chirruped nearby, impatiently waiting for the sun to warm them.

  Alex pulled her cashmere sweater over her T-shirt and gratefully put on the heavy wool shirt Casey had insisted she buy. Bruno heaved himself to his feet, looked at the world through bleary rottweiler eyes, and reluctantly plodded outdoors with Alex.

  The world seemed to stretch limitless in front of the woman and the dog, a sweeping vista of gray-green bog and pastel-colored hills. The barely discernible snowcapped peaks of the Alaska Range seemed to melt into the pearly morning sky.

  Alex turned her attention to the hillside behind her. Not far away, Casey was brewing coffee. She could feel his presence in her aching bones. She had no intention of falling prey to his alluring bed, but a hot shower, a flush toilet, fresh ground coffee, and a toasted muffin were temptations she couldn’t resist. She trudged toward the path to his house, acknowledging that she was a weak woman.

  A fragrant curl of smoke assured her Casey was up and had a fire going to dispel the morning chill. No doubt he was waiting for her with that maddening, self-satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth. She rapped on the sliding patio door and waved to Casey, who was pouring coffee into a styrofoam cup.

  “I ran out of dishes,” he explained when he opened the door.

  “Why don’t you wash the dirty ones?”

  “I keep forgetting.” He took a frozen bagel from the freezer and dropped it into a paper bag while he sipped the hot liquid. “I didn’t expect to see you up so early.”

  Alex wasn’t sure if she ever got to sleep. This wilderness stuff took some getting used to. She needed noise, even a few eighteen-wheelers in the distance. She needed a warm nose to breathe through, real sheets, an extra firm mattress. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to a sleeping bag. And then there were those thoughts about Casey that had her overheating when the temperature had to be dipping into the thirties. Thank goodness she’d be able to move into her cabin today, and tonight she could sleep in her cozy loft bed.

  She didn’t want to explain any of this to Casey, so she shrugged and looked longingly at the coffeepot. “I know I’m being a pest, but I was wondering if I could use your bathroom?”

  “You’re not a pest, and of course, you can use the bathroom. Unfortunately, I’m in a rush. One of my pilots is sick with the flu, and I’m going to have to do his cargo run today.”

  “What are you doing with the frozen bagel?”

  Casey slipped a down vest over his plaid flannel shirt and pocketed a set of keys from the kitchen counter. “Breakfast. I’ll microwave it when I get to the office.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m late. Is there anything I can do for you before I take off?”

  “Yes. I’ve decided to work on my cabin today and clean the store tomorrow. Could you get word to Andy? And how do I go about getting my own bathroom?”

  “Are you talking indoor plumbing?”

  Alex sighed. “No. I’m talking cheap.”

  Casey looked at her soberly, wishing she had a little less pluck. He hated seeing her making an emotional and financial investment that was doomed. He contemplated another attempt to explain the realities of an Alaskan winter but decided against it. He knew she wouldn’t listen; she was determined to find out for herself.

  “I’ll make arrangements for someone to come around and build you an outhouse.”

  He grabbed his bagel and coffee and paused at the door. “There’s an extra set of keys on my dresser. I’m driving the Bronco. That leaves the truck for you in case you need it. Make yourself at home.”

  A nice sentiment, she thought, but this wasn’t a home. It was a garbage dump, a health hazard. She was desperate for a cup of coffee, but she wasn’t going to drink it out of a styrofoam cup or out of a mug that should have been labeled “mold experiment in progress.”

 
She loaded the dishwasher and began working her way through the kitchen, organizing cupboards, scouring utensils, shining appliances. She gathered trash from the living room, filling three trash bags, and moved on to the bedroom. By noon the house was sparkling clean.

  Alex set a bowl of freshly cut flowers on the polished surface of the round oak table and stepped back to survey her labors. It looked nice, it smelled nice, and she didn’t have to worry about getting typhoid from the coffee.

  “Okay, Bruno,” she said, “now it’s time to work on our house.” She took the keys to the truck and went out to the garage where Casey had stored her furniture and household goods. It took her an hour to load everything into the truck. She opened the passenger door and shoved the sullen rottweiler onto the bench seat.

  “Bruno, you’re just not into the spirit of this. We’re Alaskans now. We have to get out there and tote that barge and lift that bale. It’ll be good for you,” she said, sliding behind the wheel. “You need to get some exercise. You need to lose some of that blubber.”

  She drove carefully down the winding hill, bouncing along the ruts and hillocks of her driveway. She backed the truck as close to her front door as possible and began moving her possessions into the cabin.

  Even with the windows open and spotlessly clean, the interior of the little hut wasn’t nearly as light as Casey’s log house. The inside of the cabin had darkened over the years, absorbing smoke from the iron stove, while aromas of sourdough and fried bacon had permeated the thick log walls.

  Alex took a screwdriver from her hip pocket and attached new curtain rods to the window frames. When the rods were secure, she hung the ruffled white curtains and tied them back to admit as much sunshine as possible. She dragged the double-size mattress to the clean loft, made her bed up with white sheets and pillowcases trimmed in eyelet and topped it with the cherry red down comforter. She covered a small square table with a red-and-white checkered tablecloth and set a hurricane lamp in the middle. Tomorrow she would go into town and get kerosene for it.

  A list began forming in her mind. She needed to go to the supermarket for food, she should check at the post office to see if her cartons of clothes had arrived, she had to open a checking account, and she should begin cleaning the store.

  Alex arranged two ladder-back chairs at her table and carted a small chest of drawers into the cabin, placing it near the ladder leading to the loft. She’d bought an oval, wood-framed mirror to hang directly over the chest, but decided to hang it another day. There were the details of daily living that had to be attended to before the light faded—makeup arranged on the dresser, shoes tidily lined in the closet, silverware and assorted utensils placed in colorful mugs set on a shelf by the stove.

  She’d bought a set of dishes and four glasses and suddenly realized she had no way of washing them. Add that to the list—a large dishpan and an even larger pot to heat water. When the carpenter came to build her outhouse, she’d have him build a counter next to the stove. She needed a place to do dishes and prepare food.

  She looked around and liked what she saw. It was cozy. Not exactly luxurious living, but that was okay. She’d had lots of years of luxurious living. This would be a year to test herself and see what was deep inside, to find out if she could be Alexandra Scott, wilderness woman.

  She glanced at the expensive array of cosmetics on her dresser and thought about the clothes en route from New Jersey. There were several boxes of winter things—a down jacket, heavy ski sweaters, knit hats, and fur-lined gloves. There were also suits, party dresses, satin nighties, and silk shirts. What on earth was she going to do with all those dress-for-success clothes? She laughed out loud. She’d be the only woman in Alaska who chopped wood in $195 lizard slingbacks.

  It was five-thirty when Casey pulled into his garage. He noticed the absence of Alex’s furniture and felt a stab of emotion he was reluctant to identify. He was crazy, he told himself. He couldn’t resent a woman moving her own possessions out of his garage. She wasn’t his wife. Not even his girlfriend. He slammed the door to the Bronco and rolled his eyes in self-disgust. He was over the edge. He tried to convince himself this was just physical attraction, but he knew better. He suspected his ticket had been punched.

  Casey pushed through the front door and came to an abrupt halt when he saw the flowers on his dining room table. “Oh hell, she’s cleaned the house,” he muttered, annoyed because he was pleased.

  His nose twitched. What did he smell? Spaghetti sauce cooking on the stove and garlic bread baking in the oven. She was playing dirty. Clean house, Italian dinner. He had a brief fantasy of her waiting for him in the bedroom but gave it up as too much to ask for.

  He hung his down vest on a peg on the wall and called her name, feeling his breath hitch when she appeared in the hall. She was barefoot, fresh from the shower, her face scrubbed and glowing, her hair hanging loose over her shoulders in big damp ringlets. She wore a pair of pale blue, faded jeans and one of his plaid flannel shirts, rolled to her elbows, unbuttoned halfway down her sternum. He’d seen women in sexy underwear, but he’d never seen anything as provocative as Alex in his big flannel shirt. He heard his heart go thump in his chest, then quiet down when he realized she had no idea what sort of picture she presented.

  Alex smiled at Casey and padded to the kitchen to stir the spaghetti sauce. “I hope you don’t mind. I used your shower, and I borrowed a shirt. This is my last night of luxury. Tomorrow I’m going to become more independent.” She tasted the sauce and added a couple shakes of oregano. “And tomorrow I’m going to do my laundry.”

  “It was nice of you to clean my house. It looks great.”

  “It was only fair. You helped me with my cabin.” She pulled the garlic bread out of the oven and slid it onto a breadboard. “I took the liberty of making us supper. I thought we could discuss the store while we ate.”

  Casey put two place mats on the table, then plates and silverware. “So this is a business dinner,” he said, standing behind Alex while she drained the spaghetti, running his finger down her back in a casual exploration that told him she was braless. “For a minute there, I thought you were trying to seduce me with a romantic meal.”

  Alex plopped the pasta into a large bowl. “You were wrong,” she said flatly. “If I was going to seduce you, I wouldn’t have made garlic bread.”

  Her gaze dropped to her unbuttoned shirt, and she realized she should have buttoned one more button. Too late now. If she fidgeted with the shirt, she would only draw attention to it. She’d just keep the conversation impersonal and hope for the best. Last night she’d been tired and not up to defending her virtue. Tonight would be different. Just let him try something. Tonight she was ready with the answers.

  Casey sat next to her at the table and speared a tomato wedge from his salad bowl. “What’s to discuss about the store?”

  Alex sprinkled Parmesan on her spaghetti. “I thought I would start cleaning it up tomorrow. It needs some electrical work, light fixtures, and painting.” She ticked the items off on her fingers. “It needs a name, I want to start thinking about future inventory, and I need to make arrangements for insurance.”

  Casey grinned at her. “You’re really excited about this.”

  “Of course I’m excited. Wouldn’t you be excited if you were beginning a new life?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “About the name,” Alex said.

  Casey studied her. She was beautiful and intensely feminine, her femininity accentuated by the large masculine shirt… his shirt. It seemed very intimate to him that his shirt was lying against her skin. He realized Alex was watching him, waiting for an answer. “The name. How about Alex and Andy’s Sporting Goods?” He knew that would get a rise out of her.

  Alex wrinkled her nose.

  Casey tipped back in his chair and thought for a minute. “It should be something Alaskan. How about Frontier?”

  Alex let it roll through her mind. Frontier. She liked it. “Okay, it’ll be Frontie
r.”

  Casey got a pad and pencil from a kitchen drawer and set it beside his plate. “I have to fly again tomorrow, but there are some things I can handle from the office before I take off. You concentrate on cleaning, and if you want, I’ll hire an electrician and a painter. Let’s start a list, so I don’t forget anything.”

  The sun was setting when Alex collected the empty plates and carried them to the kitchen. She watched Casey make a few final notations on the pad and felt affection mingle with more earthy emotions. She had an uneasy feeling that she was falling in love. Wasn’t that the pits? She liked wearing his shirt, and she liked sitting across from him at the dinner table. She even liked the way he looked at her with smoldering, questioning eyes.

  A good marriage must feel like this, she thought. Comfortable sharing, silences pregnant with love, desire. The urge to reach out to him was so strong, she was afraid to leave the kitchen, so she turned to the sink and busied herself rinsing plates and glasses.

  Don’t lose sight of reality, she told herself. He’s not interested in marriage. Remember last night when you left, determined to win the battle of the dueling libidos? Alex smiled. What she remembered about last night was how endearing he was when he bargained for a kiss with a dish of ice cream.

  Casey brought the remaining dishes from the table to the kitchen counter. He noticed the determined set of Alex’s shoulders as she scrubbed imaginary spots from clean plates, and he wondered about her mood. Hard to believe she hadn’t felt the intimacy between them as they’d made plans about the store and shared a meal. The air had been so thick with suppressed desire he could hardly breathe. He lightly caressed her shoulder and let his hand trail the length of her arm and settle at her waist. “You look like a woman with a lot on her mind.”

  Alex stood very still, absorbing the pleasure of his touch, afraid to respond but wanting him to continue.

  Casey hadn’t expected an answer to his question. He could see the pulse fluttering in her neck and knew she was victim to the same fierce attraction he was experiencing. Her hair was thick and sweet, inviting him to tangle his fingers in its silky lushness, to lift the heavy fall and kiss the hidden nape of her neck.