Desire in the Arctic (5 page)

“Er, yeah. Desperate. Right.”

“And next time you feel you need a fast getaway, please consider coming here instead. I haven’t seen you in months.” Stephanie paused. “Ana, you’re the sister I always wanted.”

“Thanks, Steph,” Ana answered softly. “I won’t forget it. I promise I’ll see you as soon as I can. I miss you, too.”

Ana ended the call feeling more melancholy than before.
When you’ve got to lie to those you love about what your plans are, your plans can’t be good.

Ana sat back down on the couch and hung her head in her hands.
I hope this decision is not my last.

Chapter 6

Ana convinced herself the pleasant flight was a good omen for the twelve upcoming days in the Yukon. In twenty minutes she’d finally arrive in Fairbanks. The long journey gave her some time to sleep while she could, allowing her to block out any thoughts of her future. Sleep had been her salvation. Devon and the film crew had flown on ahead with William. She’d been completely by herself for the long journey. Blissfully alone.

The show would use portable cameras, unlike how they filmed the first time, because staying in one place in the Yukon would be harder than the Everglades. The good news was that it was early June, typically viewed as a “safe” time of year. Being in the Arctic Circle, however, made weather something that could never be guaranteed. If a snowstorm came up, she and William would be forced to undertake whatever measures necessary to find warmth and shelter. If that meant leaving an area where the cameras were already stationed, then so be it. Teleworld understood and accepted this risk, but that did not mean they were going to be without a show due to a silly little factor like concern for human life. So the portable cameras were mandatory for her and William to use if they needed to flee. Teleworld made it quite clear—failure to tape gave grounds for Teleworld not to pay out the prize money.
If
they survived, that is.

Ana had almost laughed when Mark told her this. He had waited until she boarded the plane. And then told her to use her smart phone to tape part of her plane ride.

“Are you saying I need to film my journey
to
Alaska in addition to my journey
in
Alaska?”

“No, it’s not a requirement. Merely a suggestion. But I’m sure you’ll want to knock the socks off our board of directors as much as I do.”

“Sure, no problem,” she had replied saccharinely.

“Excellent. See you back at the office when you’re a million dollars richer and a television star. Make sure you don’t let your winnings inflate your ego too much. We’ll still need you to be a levelheaded producer when you return.” Mark had already taken a step away when he suddenly turned toward her again. “When you do come back, be sure to buy yourself some professional-looking suits.”

With a cursory wave good-bye, Mark walked away again. It was a relief to watch him go. Ana looked down and surveyed her choice. If you asked her, she was dressed normally for a long flight. Sweats were the practical choice, weren’t they? And the slogan on her black and pink sweatshirt was quite appropriate. Right above the Nike swoosh were the words:
Just Do It
. You’d think Mark would praise her for wearing such a positive message when anybody in her right mind would be scared to death.

Seeing Mark leave meant it was time for her to move forward with her journey. She vowed not to touch the video feature on her smart phone. Mark’s “suggestion” be damned.
Maybe I’ll re-name the show
Journey into the Passive-Aggressive.

Now, three plane rides and a gazillion hours later, Ana closed her eyes as her plane descended into Fairbanks’ airport. This last little plane had been loud but warm, the bulky headphones mercifully cutting out most of the mechanical sound. She closed her eyes tight against a persistent sunbeam.

Between naps she managed to finish the little wilderness survival book she’d brought along. Having only a few hours to pack, handle her finances and arrange for Tiny’s care before she left gave her no more than a few minutes to run to the Brooklyn library branch down the street from her apartment building. She’d checked out the only survival book they’d had, and it had definitely seen better days. Where else the little book had journeyed, she could only guess. Its chapters addressed all climates: jungle, swamp, desert, mountain, forest, and all places frigid. After reading the few pertinent chapters dozens of times, she now had them memorized.

But knowing what to do academically wasn’t the same thing as knowing pragmatically. Would she be able to actually apply anything she learned? If not, she’d be a bigger rock around William’s neck than any of Alaska’s boulders. Dead weight would not be endearing. Nor would it help her self-worth. She was used to carrying her own weight, anyway. Good thing. Because how was depending on him ever going to establish her as being someone capable?

Her thoughts drifted back to elementary school. It hardly seemed possible to have been so well liked and yet so dismissed. From second grade, Ana was viewed as fun to be around, but off-beat and kooky. Outspoken and honest, but not too bright. The one who people called up to invite to a party, but never the one asked for advice. Or to help study or do homework with. And the one who always stuck out because her wardrobe never blended in.

It was weird to have Brenda working for her now. Somehow Ana still wasn’t convinced she was worthy of an assistant. It was also why Ana held Stephanie in such high regard. Stephanie was the first person to see past the quirk and believe in Ana’s brainpower. Stephanie was a trailblazer, lighting the way for Ana. Finally, Ana was following, one tenuous step at a time.

With a shudder, Ana wondered if maybe she’d only gotten this promotion because of Mark’s twisted plan to get her on this crazy show.
Better get negative thoughts like these out of my head. Focusing on the people who think I’m inept is not going to help me survive twelve days in the Yukon.

Ana glanced out the window to see Fairbanks’s runway in clear view. Her final plane ride was about to end. And her real journey—both physical and mental—was about to begin.

Chapter 7

Redd had only been in Fairbanks for a day and he was already tired of waiting. Being a Special Ops Marine meant preparation and performance. Being a competitor on a Teleworld TV show, however, apparently meant sitting around watching paint dry. Literally. Redd watched a big, burly bald guy paint one of the pockmarked walls of the bar he was in. The painter was the only other person in the establishment. Fortunately, a minute later, the front door swooshed open and the film crew walked in.

“Hey!” protested the burly painter. He dropped his paint roller on the drop-cloth-covered wood floor. “You can’t come in here with those cameras.”

James straightened up. “Are you the owner?”

“Yeah. My name’s Gus. Like the sign outside says, this is Gus’ Place.”

Redd leaned back on his chair until the front legs were an inch off the ground, passively interested to see how this would turn out.

“Nice to meet you, Gus,” James replied politely. “We’re filming a show for the Teleworld Broadcasting Company.”

“Where are you guys from?” Gus asked suspiciously.

“New York City.”

Gus’ expression was either impressed or pissed. Redd couldn’t tell which. “That’s all well and good, but I don’t know too many folks who like to be recorded. If you’re going to come in here, you’ve got to put those cameras away.”

“I understand. We don’t want to upset your business. In fact, we want to help you out. How about I give you three hundred dollars to tape what goes on in here for the next hour? No one needs to come in who doesn’t want to be taped and you won’t miss the lost business.”

Gus looked at James suspiciously.

Redd leaned back in the rickety chair even further.

“A thousand,” Gus countered.

“Five hundred,” James retorted. “In New York, we like getting a good deal.”

“One thousand bucks, firm,” Gus said, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest. “In Alaska, we know when we’ve got you over a barrel.”

“At least it’s not a gun barrel,” Devon whispered loudly. “This guy scares me, James. Pay him what he wants or I’m outta here.”

Tom shifted uncomfortably. He leaned over to James, “I’m sure Mark will understand if we go through money faster than planned . . .”

The three New Yorkers looked like they were quaking in their Timberlands. “Hey Gus,” Redd called out. “How about six hundred and I’ll make up the difference.”

“Yeah? How’s that?” Gus countered.

“The sign outside says you’re having a karaoke night. I’ll do a few songs for this fine establishment of yours.”

“Why do I need you? I always get at least a dozen customers who want to participate.”

“I’m sure you do, but are they any good?”

Gus didn’t answer.

“I’ll take it that’s a
no
. Let me ask you a question. Won’t the audience stay longer if you’ve got someone good at the mic? And the longer people stay, the more beers you sell, right?”

Gus’ squinty-eyed, suspicious look was back. “You’ve got a point. But we’re not into any of that funny New York stuff you guys do—”

“Hey!” protested Tom.

“Shut up, Tom,” Devon hissed.

“
They’re
from New York. I’m from Texas,”
Redd countered, gesturing toward the crew. “And I’m not telling you they’re any good. I’m telling you
I
am.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Gus challenged.

“Scouts honor,” Redd answered, holding up his pointer and middle fingers.

“You’re a bit old to be a Boy Scout, don’t you think?” Gus smirked.

“I’m newly retired from the Marines.” Redd declined to mention he was Special Ops. He wanted to calm down the situation, not generate conversation.

“A Marine wouldn’t lie, so you’ve got a deal. But you need to do at least three songs,” Gus ordered. “Be here seven-thirty tonight.” Gus looked at the film crew. “You’ve got an hour with your cameras, that’s all.” He held out his hand and James promptly put six one-hundred-dollar bills into it. “You’re time starts now” Gus said, shoving the cash in his pocket and going back to painting his wall.

James went over to Redd and sat down at the small table with a hearty exhale. Tom and Devon followed, shrugging off the heavy camera equipment they’d slung over their shoulders. “Thanks,” James said.

“No problem,” Redd answered. “I didn’t want you guys worried Mark will kill y’all when you get back.”

“Now all I have to worry about is your partner showing up within the hour so we can film your reactions,” James said. “If not, I don’t have enough in the expense account to pay Gus for another hour.”

“Not a problem,” Tom interjected. “She texted. Her plane already landed and she’s on her way now.”

Thankfully Redd’s wait to meet his partner was going to end. Good, he was itchy to get this started. The more he kept moving things forward, the less time he spent lingering in the past. Haunted by events he couldn’t change. When he’d gotten the news of Hailey’s death so many years ago, the military was a lifeline. The Marines gave him his only shot at solace—helping others. That same goal was pursuing him now, pushing him into the wild foray so he could win the million-dollar prize.

If Hailey was looking down on him, he hoped she’d be happy with what she saw. Even his Karaoke performance tonight would be in her honor. Ironically, not too far away from this very bar, Redd and his sister had learned to sing. It had been a useful tool for them to while away the hours while their father focused on panning gold, instead of them. He and his sister had kept singing back in Texas, too poor to be entertained any other way. They had taken great pride in getting good. When he was seventeen and she was fifteen they had entered their high school talent night and won first place. The song they’d chosen to sing together was the Pretenders’ “I’ll Stand by You.” The applause they’d gotten that night was one of the best memories he had.

Of course, he wouldn’t admit any of this to Gus’ crowd. Painful memories were ones he’d learned long ago to keep deep inside.

Ana stood outside a little dive bar on the edge of town, not too far from Fairbank’s airport. The sign above the ancient wooden door read ‘Gus’ Place.’
Must mean Ghost’s Place, this building looks so old.
The newest thing about it was the plastic sign tacked on that read: ‘Karaoke Tonight.’
Who would want to sing in a beat-up place like this?

Wondering whether she had the right address, she spun around and got a blast of sunlight in her eye.

“What the heck is with all this light?” she blurted out. “It must seven o’clock at night already.”

“You’re not from around here, are you?” an old man lounging on the sidewalk wheezed.

“No,” Ana confirmed.

“Summer Solstice is almost here. Welcome to the land of the midnight sun.”

Ana nodded. Dazed, she pulled on the bar’s door handle made out of some kind of carved bone. To her surprise the heavy looking door swung open easily. No sooner had she stepped inside than immensely bright camera lights shined down on her. Blinded once again, she put up her hands to cover her face. “Guys, stop it!”

The cameras titled down, the light now off her face.

“Way to go, Ana,” Devon snapped. “How are we supposed to use that footage, hmmm? You’re not supposed to act like you know us.”

“But I
do
know you and I’m not an actress. I agreed to be filmed, not to have paparazzi.” She smoothed her brow and beamed a smile at the crew. “It’s great to see all of you, though. Who wudda thunk it’d be all the way up here? Just a short ride away from the Arctic Circle?”

James slid his heavy video camera off his shoulder to lean forward and give Ana a one-armed hug. “Glad you made it safely.”

Tom cleared his throat. “Good to see you, Ana, but Gus is giving us only a few more minutes to film before he charges us another six hundred dollars.”

Tom gave a nod over toward Gus’ direction. Ana took one look at his body language and silently agreed Gus wasn’t a guy to be messed with.

“We’re already blowing through Mark’s budget,” Tom admitted, “so can we tape first and talk later?”

“Sure, of course. What am I supposed to do?”

Tom pointed to a table and chairs near the bar, close to the wall being painted. “Walk over there and meet . . . Where’d he go?”

“I told him to wait in the hallway,” James answered. “Okay everyone, get your cameras ready. Our man is about to walk in.” The men shifted their video cameras on their shoulders and bent their faces to peer into the viewfinders. “Okay, Redd, you can come out now.”

Out of the blackness of a dim, dusty corridor, Ana could make out the emerging figure of a hulk of a man. The closer he got, the more he drew her in. His intense gaze, imposing body and commanding presence was as striking as before, mesmerizing her once again.

“And go!” she heard James loudly whisper.

Ana felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up from nerves. Even though she had flown up here knowing she was going to be on camera, actually being taped was more disconcerting than she thought.

“Uh . . .” she stuttered stupidly, holding out her hand.

“Hello, I’m William Redding.” He seemed amused as he dropped his gaze to her face, obviously studying her. Or perhaps sizing her up. “Nice to meet you,” he said, taking her hand and briefly shaking it.

“I’m Ana,” she squeaked. “Ana Davis. I’m your partner.”

“I gathered that. You’re the only other person in here being filmed.”

Great greeting, Ana, ‘I’m your partner.’ Duh. Everyone back home will laugh their asses off when they see this. I can hear the “I knew she wasn’t cut for anything special” comments now.
She was screwing up royally. Heat traveled to her cheeks. Suddenly she wanted to bolt for the door and run back to the airport.

“You can call me Redd,” he added, gratefully filling in the silence.

Thankfully she managed a small nod.

Man, she looks familiar.
Redd needed a moment to figure out where he had seen the unique, beautiful woman before. And then it hit him. But she was even lovelier now than in the Manhattan deli.
What the heck is she doing here?
She’d come a long way to find out if potato salad and pastrami was better in Alaska.

Seeing her again, and in this bar, was one of the most surprising things to happen in his whole life. A flying giraffe couldn’t have been a bigger shock. The likelihood, out of all the millions in Manhattan, of her being here was practically zilch. If it hadn’t been for his covert operative training he never could have maintained his neutral expression for the cameras.

The woman looked completely urban, if you asked him. And kind of shy. Self-conscious, even. How could he have known this beautiful, unique woman was a skilled survivalist? Go figure. The military was right—people were full of surprises, so expect the unexpected.

Talk to her, Redd. Sure she’s pretty, but there are still plenty of things you need to know.
He cleared his throat. But before he could say anything, Gus’ voice cut through the tense air.

“Your one hour’s up, guys. Either pay me for my time or put your recording equipment away.”

“Shit. That’s a wrap,” James said to Tom and Devon. “Hope those few seconds will be what Mark wants.”

“It’ll have to be,” Tom said. “Ana, loosen up, will you? The camera hates it when people are stiff.”

“It’s my first time being filmed,” Ana protested.

She looked like she was trying her best to hold herself together. At least the camera crew was giving her space to recover. They went outside, putting their equipment away.

“Now that the cameras are off, I can say that I definitely remember you from the deli,” he said with a laugh.

“I remember you, too,” she said with a large smile. “You were so wonderful with those nasty kids. Thank you.”

“I was happy to bail you out of a bad situation. Kinda like we have now,” he joked. “Our twelve days will be tough, but I’m sure you can hold your own. Bears are so much easier than brats.”

“I’m hoping you’re right. I guess I’ll find out.”

“Find out?” he said, brows furrowed. “What does that mean?” When she didn’t answer, his heartbeat sped up. And not in a good way. “Ana, you do have survival skills, don’t you?”

“I . . . er . . . don’t have any survival skills
per se
.”

What?
He frowned. “Okay, what skills exactly do you have?”

“Isn’t it better to find out when we’re in the park? I’ll be able to surprise you, and dazzle you, all at the same time.”

I just know she’s never even set foot outdoors. I am so screwed.

Ana may look like an angel, but Teleworld was the devil who’d brought them together. To have deliberately set her up with him was callously risking both of their lives. And his goal for the prize money.

Ana studied the man with whom she’d be spending the next twelve days, convinced he hated her. His upper lip was curled as if he smelled something unpleasant. She blinked back tears that threatened to fall.
Oh, God. Redd thinks I’m dead weight for sure. Now I know I’m going to screw up the show.

“I’m not into surprises, Ana,” he said gruffly. “Not when our lives are on the line. Do you have any survival skills or don’t you? I’ve got to know exactly what I’m dealing with.”

“I-I’m sorry,” she stuttered, although she wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for. Her slow response, or for not being somebody better?

“Just level with me, okay?” he said again, gentler this time. “I won’t be mad. Panicked, maybe. But not mad. At least not mad at you.” He managed to give her a small smile. She wished to God it was sincere.

“All right, I’ll level. But I hope you won’t be too upset. I don’t have any survival skills at all.”