A Touch of Silk (16 page)

“Will I see you again before you leave Bear Creek?”

“I’ve got an early flight on Saturday morning, so Mack’s flying me into Anchorage tomorrow night. I’ve booked a room in a motel near the airport.”

“This is your last day, then.” Amazing how they’d spent the past few days together without discussing the details of her departure. But they’d both been avoiding the inevitable, choosing not to speak of it until they absolutely had to.

“Yes.”

“I’ll come with you to Anchorage. We can share the room.” He quirked a smile. “One last orgasm for the road.”

THE LAST TIME they made love was bittersweet. Kay memorized everything. The way Quinn moved above her, the feel of his hands on her skin, the taste of him on her tongue. She imprinted the decor of the room, what they wore, the room-service meal they ate.

I’m making memories, she told herself. To sustain her through the hard days ahead. She had a lot to think about, a lot of soul-searching to do.

What did she want in her future? She knew one thing—she had to face Lloyd again, to confront him about how shabbily he’d treated her. Before she could move on, she needed that closure.

No one was going to believe the change in her.

But it was high time. And thanks to Quinn, she now had the courage to proceed with her life.

He sat holding hands with her in the terminal while the ramp workers de-iced the plane. Her heart lay heavy in her chest. A wave of feeling welled up in her, and she had to fight to keep from expressing it. He’d trained her too well. And there was so much she wanted to say, but the old Kay reminded her that silence sometimes was golden. She figured it was better to stay quiet and not tell him what she feared. Because what would he do with that information?

“I can’t thank you enough,” she said when boarding for her plane was announced. She stood up, and he rose to his feet beside her.

“Sweetheart, I didn’t do anything but take the lid off the box.” He smiled tenderly, ran a finger down her cheek. “You had it in you all along.”

“Thank you for believing in me. No one else did.”

“They didn’t see in you what I saw.”

“And what was that?” she asked breathlessly.

“Passion.” His eyes met hers. “Fire beneath the ice. Heat simmering under that unruffled surface.”

“I’m glad you’re so perceptive.”

“And I’m glad you picked me to help liberate you.”

“If you’re ever in Manhattan, please call me.”

“And if you talk your boss into doing a follow-up story on the bachelors of Bear Creek, I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

“I’ll put a bee in Judy’s ear.”

He took her hand. He started to say something, then hesitated.

Over the intercom, the gate agent announced last call for her flight.

“I gotta go,” she whispered.

He pressed his forehead to hers, looked deeply into her eyes. “You take care, Kay, you hear?”

“Same to you, big man.”

“Maybe I’ll call you sometime.”

“I’d like that.”

She slung her carry-on bag over her shoulder and started for the jetway.

“Hey, Kay,” he shouted as she reached the mouth of the jetway.

She turned, her heart hammering.

“Remember when I told you there’s supposed to be a lot of sunspot activity this summer?”

“Yes.”

“Mean’s the aurora will be highly visible. Maybe as far away as New York. Plus, the aurora does strange things to radio signals. If you’re lonesome some night, turn to KCRK. Maybe you’ll hear a song that reminds you of our time together.”

“I’ll do that.” Damn. She had to go before she burst into tears.

Luckily the flight attendant rescued her. “Please, ma’am, if you don’t move along, we’re going to have to shut the plane door without you.”

“Bye.” She waved gaily over her shoulder at Quinn, putting on her game face and pretending that her heart wasn’t splitting in two.

THE ADVANCE COPY of the June issue of Metropolitan magazine arrived in his mailbox in mid-April with a short note from Kay stuck to the front cover.

“Hope you like how the ad and article turned out,” she’d written in her elegant script. “My publisher was very pleased. See page 110.”

That was it? His spirits plummeted. He flipped to page 110.

There was the advertisement and on the opposite page was Kay’s article. “The Bachelors of Bear Creek Beckon; But Are You Gutsy Enough to Become a Wilderness Wife?”

He read slowly, cherishing every word, knowing Kay had written them. In glowing terms she exalted all the bachelors and their little town. Quinn’s chest filled with emotion when she lauded his skills as both a hockey player and a volunteer fireman.

She wrote of the stark beauty of the land, the soul-stealing majesty of the mountains, the water, the wildlife. She described the northern lights. She wrote about the fierce independence of the Alaskans, their old-fashioned values, their love of the land.

Pride filled Quinn’s heart. For his home, for Kay, for his life in Alaska. Obviously she’d fallen in love with the place.

But then came the negatives. Cold and darkness. Moose freely roaming downtown streets. Wolves and bears lurking in the woods. Danger aplenty. No convenience stores. No movie theaters. No shopping centers. No restaurants. She wrote of Liam and Candy’s baby scare, how the hospital was a long plane ride away. She wrote of the isolation. She wrote about the lonely sound of the wind whipping through the Sitka spruce on frozen winter nights.

And any hope Quinn had been holding out that she’d come back disappeared. Much as she might love Alaska, it was too different from anything she’d ever known. Asking her to move here would be like asking a salmon to sprout wings and fly, or asking an eagle to unhinge his feathers and dive into the depths of the ocean.

Their differences were what had attracted them to each other, but it was those differences that kept them apart. And the main reason he hadn’t called her.

Many times over the course of the past six weeks, he would start to pick up the telephone. But on each occasion, his doubts held him back. He feared he wasn’t good enough for her. He told himself she needed her space, needed time to get her life in order. Needed to see if what she felt for him was real or merely the result of him being the one to open her up to her own sexuality.

Hell, truth be told, he had no idea what she felt for him.

Besides, if he kept picking at the wound, his heart would never heal.

He closed the magazine. Closed his eyes. He could see her as plainly as if she was standing in front of him, cloaked in his grandmother’s fur coat and nothing else.

She was the sexiest, smartest, most savvy woman he’d ever known, and he’d been lucky to have her in his life even for a short while.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Since her visit, he’d lost ten pounds, because without her, food had no taste. He couldn’t sleep—the bed seemed too empty, so he threw himself into getting ready for the tourist season. He’d added a whole new wilderness adventure to his regular offerings. The business kept him occupied from six in the morning to very late at night. That was the point. To stay so busy he had no time to think of her.

Except it wasn’t working.

Quinn couldn’t comb her from the snarl of his thoughts. No one smelled as good as Kay. No one he knew spoke with her smooth, polished voice. No one had her sleek hairstyle, her dynamic way of walking.

She was special and he was never going to find anyone else like her, so he might as well stop trying and start concentrating on what he could have. Like the cute new guide he’d hired last week. Or any of the women who would undoubtedly show up when Metropolitan hit the newsstands in May.

Except he couldn’t seem to work up the energy even to think about dating.

Good grief, he thought suddenly. Was this more than mere infatuation? Could he actually be in love with Kay Freemont?

QUINN.

How she missed him, Kay thought as she sat in her office staring at page 110 of the June issue, which had come out in May and had been on the stands for three weeks now. Her gaze riveted on one of the four bare-chested bachelors stretched out like movie idols.

With a heavy sigh she traced a finger over his one-dimensional image and recalled what it felt like to touch him in the flesh. All sinew and muscle. All hard edges and solid tissue.

She thought about his winsome smile, his self-confident stance, the tender way he gazed at her when he didn’t think she was looking. She thought of his loving family, his good-hearted, down-to-earth friends.

Since coming home to her own family, she’d been doubly struck by how shallow and image-conscious they were. Lloyd had begged her to come back. Her father had demanded she reconsider his proposal. Her mother had clucked her tongue and told her she was no longer behaving in a manner becoming of a Freemont. And when she finally spoke her mind—letting loose with a stream of opinions she’d kept cloaked for twenty-seven years, opinions that differed vastly from Charles and Honoria’s rigid rules of conduct—they’d told her they didn’t want to see her again until she had come to her senses.

Kay had told them not to hold their breaths.

That’s when Kay realized exactly how much she had changed.

She no longer cared that her father was angry or that her mother was upset. She didn’t care if Lloyd got his nose out of joint or if her mother’s friends were furiously whispering gossip behind their hands. She was ready to make her own way, lead her own life, unfettered by the expectations of others.

Those two weeks in Alaska had transformed her.

Two weeks in Quinn’s arms enjoying orgasm after orgasm and learning how to take control of her life.

“Knock, knock,” Judy called from the doorway before strolling into Kay’s office, a manila envelope tucked under her arm. An ear-to-ear grin split her face.

“Hi.” Kay managed a smile.

“Guess what?”

“I’m not in the mood for guessing games, Judy.”

“Still pining over the Mighty Quinn?”

“No.” But even to her own ears, the denial rang false.

“Liar. But cheer up, I’ve got fabulous news.” Her boss perched on the edge of her desk.

“I’m listening.”

“Between the Bear Creek bachelors, your article and the contest, sales of our June edition are already up sixteen percent.”

“You’re kidding!” Kay gaped.

“Nope. And as a result, Hal’s not only giving you a tidy bonus, but he’s prepared to offer you the position of head writer when Carol leaves next month.” Judy clapped her hands.

“That’s nice.”

“Nice? Is that all you’re going to say? Kay, this is an opportunity of a lifetime.”

What Judy said was true. Kay had dreamed of being head writer ever since she graduated from Vassar and hired on at Metropolitan. But somehow it no longer seemed like such a big deal.

“You’re going to take the position, aren’t you?”

Kay shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Judy stared at her. “You’ve been acting downright weird ever since you got back from Alaska.”

“I’ve changed the way I look at things.”

“Yeah, you’ve taken several steps backward. You used to be so focused, so centered, so ambitious. What happened?”

What had happened indeed?

She’d learned a new way of being. She’d learned to listen for the cries of bald eagles soaring overhead. She’d learned to enjoy the sight of moose trotting down the main street. She’d learned to love a place where the northern night sky lit up in a dancing swath of colored lights.

Unmindful of Judy’s presence, Kay reached out to caress the photograph she’d framed on her desk. The picture Meggie had taken of her with the four bachelors at the Scofields’ party and mailed to her when she’d gotten them developed. They’d even exchanged a few e-mails since then, but Meggie only mentioned Quinn in passing, and Kay had been reluctant to come right out and ask direct questions about him.

In the photo Quinn was standing to her left, Jake to her right. Quinn’s arm was draped over her shoulder, and he was gazing at her with a tender expression on his face.

“Oh, my God!” Judy exclaimed suddenly. “It’s all so clear. Why didn’t I see it before? You’ve been moping around here for weeks like a sick puppy. You’re in love with the lumberjack.”

Kay’s head jerked up. “I’m not,” she denied.

“Oh, yes, you are.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Quinn and I were just…” What? Friends? No sir. Considering the sexual adventures they’d shared, they were so much more than that. Lovers? Well, not really. The word implied a long-term relationship. Two ships that passed in the night?

“Yes?” Judy arched an eyebrow, waited expectantly for her to continue.

“We had a good time together, but that’s all it was.”

“You sure about that? Your article was great. Full of emotion. You’ve never written anything so passionate,” Judy enthused. “And you showed both sides of the coin. The sexy bachelors, that homey little town, the beauty of Alaska versus the serious negatives. Any woman that snags one of those guys can’t say she wasn’t forewarned.”

Kay nodded.

“I was thinking, in case any of those bachelors does get married as a result of the article, maybe we could do a follow-up story. Would you like to go back?”

“I…I don’t know.” She would love to go back, but what if one of those bachelors was Quinn? Could she stand to see him with his new bride, his face shining with a happiness that had eluded them?

“Just think about it,” Judy said. “In the meantime I brought these for you to look at. Thought you might enjoy picking the winning contest entry.” She handed Kay the fat manila envelope.

“Thanks.” Kay put the envelope in her top desk drawer. “Anything else?”

“No, that’s all.” Judy turned to go, but stopped when she reached the door. “Kay, if you really are in love with this man, don’t let him go without a fight.”

SEVERAL HOURS LATER Kay carried the manila envelope in her briefcase as she walked swiftly down a side street in the misting rain. She’d been late leaving work after a powwow with Hal about the possibility of taking over Carol’s job as head writer. She’d tried for a taxi, but getting a cab in rainy weather was like getting good Chinese take-out in Bear Creek.

She’d gone through the bulk of contest entries Judy had given her, and while several were well written, none had jumped out at her. She had a few more to read, so she was bringing the rest home with her. But she couldn’t really concentrate on the contest. Her thoughts were on Quinn, and she allowed her usual mindfulness to slip. She didn’t even notice that she was the only person on the block, and when she passed a Dumpster, she didn’t even look behind it.

Big mistake.

A man grabbed her from the shadows and held a knife to her neck.

Kay was so startled she couldn’t even scream. Her brain went numb.

“Give me your purse, lady,” the man demanded. “And the briefcase.”

This simply could not be happening to her again. Mugged for the third time in as many years!

Resigned, she handed him her purse. But the clasp on her briefcase hung on her purse strap. He snatched at her things while at the same time throwing her to the ground. The briefcase burst open, and the manila folder fell to the ground beside her. The man ran off into the night, leaving Kay alone in the wet darkness bleeding from scrapes on her palms and knees.

It was almost midnight by the time she arrived home from the police station.

She plunked the manila envelope wearily on her bed. Her hometown. The place of her birth suddenly seemed like an alien and hostile place. Outside the window she heard the wail of an ambulance.

If only she had someone she could talk to. Someone who understood. She thought of Quinn.

Call him.

But what would she say? How would she begin? She wandered over to the radio, turned it to 840 AM as she’d been doing almost every night since she’d returned from Alaska. Even with her high-power radio, she’d picked up KCRK only a couple of times, and neither time had Quinn been manning the control booth.

She got nothing but a few staticky crackles. Glumly she sat on the bed. The manila envelope had torn during the encounter with the mugger, and one of the remaining contest entries was poking out. Idly Kay reached for it.

I want to go Alaska because I’m very timid, and more than anything in the world I long to be brave. If Alaska can’t save me, nothing can.

The heartfelt words reached out to Kay. The writer had touched something inside her. She, too, had gone to Alaska seeking salvation. And she’d found it. But in the end, she’d been too scared to act on her instincts. She hadn’t trusted herself. Or her true feelings.

She glanced at the name on the entry form. Cammie Jo Lockhart from Austin, Texas.

“Well, Cammie Jo,” Kay whispered. “Let’s see if you can do better than I did. This is your chance to test your courage. You win the contest.”

She closed her eyes and leaned back. Behind the static she heard a faint trickle of music. She cocked her head and strained to listen.

Paul Anka’s “Having My Baby.” She sat up, reached over and fiddled with the dial. The reception improved.

Kay’s heart clutched at the sound of that voice she knew so well.

“I’ll be standing in for Liam for the next couple of nights since Liam Junior got here. Hope you folks will bear with me. Since I’m at the controls and there’s one hell of an aurora tonight, I’m going to be talking to a friend of mine, hoping she can hear me. Kay, baby, if you’re out there, if you’re listening, these next two are for you.”

He played “New York, New York” and followed that with “Unforgettable.”

She promptly burst into tears.

What on earth was she so scared of in Alaska? If she could live in Manhattan with the muggers and the pollution, why couldn’t she make it in Alaska with a little darkness, a little cold weather, a few wild animals?

She missed that beautiful land. She missed Bear Creek. She missed the kind and welcoming townspeople.

And most of all, she missed Quinn.

What the hell was she doing in New York when everything she cared about was in Alaska?

THREE DAYS LATER Kay waited in line to board a plane bound for Anchorage. She was ready to begin her new life. She’d not only gone out on a limb, but sawn off the branch behind her. She’d sold off most of her belongings. And she’d quit her job at the magazine. Hal had been appalled at losing his best writer, but Judy had given her a thumbs-up and a ride out to JFK.

“Go get him, honey. He’s a keeper,” Judy had whispered in her ear as she gave her one last hug in the terminal before Kay passed through security.

The scary thing was, she hadn’t spoken to Quinn. She was taking a huge chance, and she knew it. But if she’d learned anything from her first visit to Alaska, it was how to take a risk.

Thanks to Quinn.

Showing up unannounced had seemed like a terribly free-spirited, romantic, un-Kay-like thing to do. But now that everything was in motion, she started to panic.

Shifting the shoulder strap of her carry-on bag, she shuffled forward as the line moved. To distract herself from her anxiety, she studied the jetway neighboring her gate. A plane from Anchorage had just arrived and a gate agent moved to open the door. A steady stream of people began to disembark. From her peripheral vision, she caught sight of a tall, broad-shouldered man.

And did a double take.

Her heart thundered like a calving glacier. Could it be him?

Nah.

Her line moved forward as her plane began to board. The big man in flannel and jeans was almost rounding the ticket counter. Was it him? “Quinn!” she shouted, not caring that people stared. “Quinn!”

The man turned his head.

Gray eyes met hers. Recognition dawned. Then he stared in stunned disbelief.

“Kay?” A huge grin split his face.

He dropped his bag. She dropped hers.

She ducked under the roped-off area separating the departing passengers from their visitors.

He dodged a mother pushing a stroller.

In four, long-legged strides, he had her, catching her under the arms and swinging her high in the air as if she weighed no more than a toddler. Strong emotions surged through her—joy, excitement, wonderment.

And something else.

Love.

Quinn held her tightly to his chest. She could hear his heart pounding as heavily as her own.

Then he captured her mouth and kissed her.

Ah, the taste of him. How she’d missed his flavor!

“Isn’t that sweet,” someone in the crowd murmured.

“Makes me remember our courting days, Melinda,” said someone else.

But it was all background noise to Kay, who only had eyes and ears for Quinn.

She kissed him hard and long. Kissed him in the airport terminal in front of dozens of openmouthed onlookers. She didn’t care what anyone thought. She didn’t care who she shocked or outraged. There was nothing wrong with expressing your love. And she refused to be ashamed of her physical urges any longer. He kissed her back until they were both gasping for air, and then he pulled away ever so slightly.