Impact (4 page)

Chapter Six

“I still think predators are going to be a problem,” Wren said as she struggled to stay on her feet against the wind’s impressive attempts to knock her off them. Even though she now lived in Anchorage, she was by no means a city girl. This was Alaska. Predators outnumbered people.

She was cold and hungry and wet and now exhausted after dragging Jim’s dead body across the tundra. And her head pounded like a son of a bitch.

“That’s why we moved him so far from the plane,” Skip explained as though he was speaking to someone slow on the uptake. He struggled alongside her, having a tougher time against the wind as he was a bigger target and unable to put his arms out for balance. She’d zipped his jacket up with his arm tucked into his body. With the brace, it wouldn’t fit through the sleeve.

“We should have tossed his body over the bank.” It would have been a hell of a lot faster as the bank was twenty yards from the buried nose of the plane. She had no idea why she was pecking at him about this. It was done. The body was covered and secure and probably a hell of a lot warmer than she was right now.
Blasted icy rain.

“It’s Jim. His family is going to want his body for burial, and the ocean would have taken him. I couldn’t do that to a friend.”

“You had no problem tossing me in jail, and I was more than a friend. Or so I thought since we were banging each other.”

He stopped cold and glared at her. Pain bracketed his face. “What the hell is your problem? Are you spoiling for a fight?”

Hell, yes. Someone needed to pay for how miserable she felt. Skip owed her for a lot of things. Crash landing the airplane and putting her in this situati
on was just the latest of many.

Besides, she didn’t want to get into that plane with him, be alone with him all night, just the two of them needing to keep warm.

Jim had been there before. Dead or not, he’d still been there between them, putting a damper on what could happen. Now that they’d moved Jim clear across the tundra what was going to keep her from doing someth
ing stupid?

She remembered all too well what could happen when she was alone with Skip for any length of time. That’s how she’d lost her virginity at sixteen. Not to mention her heart. She’d still like to have that back. Her heart, not her virginity. She’d been glad to lose that thing.

The icy rain suddenly turned to shards of icy snow and started to slice at their exposed skin.

“Can we at least fight inside the damn plane?” Skip spit the words through his chattering teeth. “I’m freezing my balls off out here.”

Maybe they should stay out here a little longer.

She doubted he’d be in an amorous mood if he lost his balls. But then again she was assuming a lot. He hadn’t made a move on her. What if the attraction was one-sided? Could it be just her who was still attracted? Maybe he’d moved on. No, she would have heard. The little village of Egegik had a healthy gossip line.

“Do you even remember where you crashed the plane?” She glanced around trying hard to see through the thick, and getting thicker, onslaught of sleet.

“Of course, I remember where I crash—” He huffed a frustrated sigh and trudged forward bent into the wind. “I’d forgotten how much of a
pain in the ass you could be.”

Hey, now that’s something she hadn’t thought of. Skip could keep his balls, and they could get out of this storm, all she had to do was be a bitch. Yeah, surprise.
She was up for that.

“And here I’d thought I’d left you with a lasting impression,” she said.

He stopped again and turned toward her. “You’re pulling out all the stops, aren’t you?” His eyes narrowed, either because of the biting wind or because he was really angry with her remembering that last impression. “I’ll have to show you the scar you left me.”

Scar? She thought she’d only left him with a scratch. It wasn’t like she’d meant to hurt him. She’d only wanted to get him to release her. Wasn’t her fault he’d underestimated how high she was or the lengths she’d go to be free of him in that state. She hadn’t even known until she’d awoken, hung over but sober, and listened to the list of charges against her at her arraignment.

The memory silenced her inner bitch.

What else would happen to him because of her? He already had a broken arm. Granted, she hadn’t done that, but she was nagging him when he obviously hurt. They were both wet and cold and probably hungry. She certainly was. Hunger could explain her bitchiness. She hadn’t had breakfast because her nerves had been too jittery knowing she was going home, and there was a good chance she’d see Skip. Lunch had consisted of the measly peanut mix and a small glass of artificial punch the airline from Anchorage to King Salmon had given everyone.

God she hoped he knew where the plane was. Her feet were so cold, and she was in danger of losing digits. Then suddenly there it was. So close she almost ran into the door Skip opened for her.

“Hurry. We don’t want it wetter inside than we can help.”

She scampered into the upside down plane, having to crawl around the seats in the cockpit. Skip struggled to follow her. He shut and latched the door, but the wind whistled through the broken front window.

“Get out of your wet clothes,” Skip said, following behind her, shrugging off his coat. “See if you can find my bag. If we don’t get dry, I don’t have to tell you how much trouble we’ll be in.”

Hypothermia. Number one killer in the state of Alaska.

She headed into the tail of the plane. “What does your bag look like?”

“Blue and gold.”

She should have known. Trooper colors. Also the colors of the state flag. “Eight stars of gold on a field of blue.” She bet his uniform was in his bag. Damn he looked good in his trooper uniform. She’d never admit it, but her good intentions would weaken to mush when he was all gussied up. Hell, who was she kidding? She’d never had good intentions back then. She barely had them now.

She found his bag, and under it were boxes of food. Lots of food. Someone had gone to Costco!

“There’s food!” Her stomach growled. She turned and tossed Skip’s bag toward him and
then swiveled back to the food.

“Change your clothes first,” Skip said.

She glared at him from over her shoulder. “You knew there was food?”

“Yes.” He bent, and one-handed, unzipped his bag.

“You couldn’t have said something?”

He paused and looked at her from under his brows. “Been kinda busy with other things.”

“But I’m hungry.”

“You’re cold too. You’re probably so cold that you don’t feel it anymore. Now, get out of those wet clothes, or I’ll have to warm you up myself. And there will be nudity.”

A fiery blush heated her cheeks. She shivered, and hoped it was the cold and not the image his words invoked. She knelt, or fell as her knees gave out, next to her suitcase and rummaged through her clothes. She needed layers. Lots and lots of layers. She didn’t care that he was watching her this time, didn’t even ask him to turn around. The blush must have jumpstarted her thermostat because her body started to shake, and her teeth to rattle. She was freezing. Thinking of them naked, next to each other, started to sound very appealing. And not just in a sur
vival nature.

She whipped off her jacket, tossed it aside, and lifted her sweatshirt. Her Under Armour felt dry so she went to put on another sweatshirt.

“Take it off,” Skip said.

“It’s dry.”

“If any part of it is wet, your body won’t warm up. So, be safe and take it off.”

Was it wrong that there was a big part of her who wanted him to say that in a less impersonal way?

“Fine.” She struggled out of the Under Armour. The cold sucked the breath out of her. She shivered into a long-sleeved t-shirt and followed that with another sweatshirt. Her jeans were next, and the Under Armour pants. Goose flesh was red and splotchy on her legs before she covered them up with a pair of black heavy sweats with Bristol Bay printed down the side of one leg. Wool socks followed. She was feeling much better when she turned to face Skip.

He was a mess.

Much like a two-year-old who’d just learned to change himself, his jeans were off and he was struggling into another pair. They weren’t going on easily with only one good arm and his skin being wet. He still had on his soaked shirt. She should have thought how hard changing his clothes would have been before she’d changed her own. Now she felt like mud on the bottom of his boots.

“I’m sorry, Skip.” She reached out to help pull up his jeans. He sighed with what she assumed was relief and let his good arm drop away, letting her take over.

She buttoned the jeans and went to pull up his zipper. Well
...
he hadn’t lost his balls out there in the freezing sleet. Hello. Her fingers jumped away, and she swallowed. “Uh . . . you’re going to have to zip up your pants.”

“I can’t,” he said. Was there laughter in his tone? “Not one-handed. If you hold onto the crotch, I can pull up the zipper.”

“I’m not grabbing your crotch.” Fire flamed in her cheeks. She wasn’t cold anymore. “Your jeans are too small to zip up anyway.” Oh God, had she pointed that out? She wanted to die.

“It’s the crotch talk.” His words didn’t have laughter in them now. She recognized that tone. It jumpstarted areas of her body she tho
ught had been put on the shelf.

“Listen. I’m not touching that. You’ll just have to leave your pants unzipped until
...
things are back down to size.”

“Things haven’t been down to size since I first saw you in the airport.” His nostrils flared, and he took a step closer to her.

She backed up, her shoulder bumping into the top of the seat hanging above her. “Not my problem.”

“The hell it isn’t.” He reached out with his good arm and hauled her against him, making sure she felt exactly how she affected him. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been not touching you?”

“This isn’t good for your arm.”

“I’m feeling no pain in my arm. But there’s a serious ache farther south.”

“Skip—”

“Just let it happen, Wren.”

He leaned down, paused as he looked into her eyes, and then kissed her softly, his lips a perfect fit over hers.

She shuddered and leaned into him. This was like coming home. Oh, how she missed this. Being held by him, loved by him. The rich earthy scent of rugged outdoors, cool ocean breezes, with a hint of salmon berries infused her lungs as she breathed in his essence. How did he smell the same after so long?

The heat of him seduced her closer. He groaned and breached past the seam of her lips, his tongue hot and devastating as he deepened the kiss. He pulled her into his hardness, ground against her and groaned again. His breath became choppy, his fingers digging into her hip as though he needed to be part of her.

Blood surged in her veins, and she became a dizzy. Her breath caught as his hand slid up and under her sweatshirt, bypassing her layers, and finding her skin.

Heat, delicious heat infused her body, killing any chill she had left. She wanted to feel that heat everywhere. Get naked with him and—

Wait a minute. What the hell were they doing? His shirt was wet against her front. He was kissing her, more like devouring her, and they hadn’t seen each other in five years.

Her hands came up and pushed against his chest, creating a little space to break the kiss. “We can’t.”

He met her eyes, his unfocused, clouded with desire. “Yes, we can.” He leaned in to kiss her again. She pushed harder against him. His eyes narrowed and cleared a bit as he took a moment to study her. “It’s the dude, isn’t it?”

“Dude?”

“The contractor dude you’ve been seeing.”

Stunned, she relaxed her hands until the words connected in her muddled brain. “Contractor? You mean Christopher?”

“Yeah, him.”

She pushed out of Skip’s hold. “How do you know about Christopher?”

“I know a lot of things about you.”