Primal Calling (11 page)

She studied his long, lean body. His skin was darker than white, and lighter than Iñupiat, with dark hair scattered lightly across his chest and swirling into a narrow line down his stomach. His abs were well defined and his thighs well muscled. And his biceps bulged just the right amount for his strong, wide shoulders.

If only she could see what his face looked like without
that beard. What would it be like to kiss his clean-shaven cheek instead of bristle?

She tapped his shoulder. “Max?” Tapped harder. “Ma—aax?” She grabbed both shoulders and shook. “Max!”

“Hmm?” He opened one eye.

“Can I shave you?”

“Um…” He closed the eye and ran a hand over his beard. “Now?”

“Mmm-hmm. But only if you want me to.”

She had to drag him out of bed, the lazy lummox, but once they got into the bathroom, he let her place him under the hot spray and lather him up. Max gathered up his shaving cream and razor and stood in front of his sink.

Serena “helped” by standing behind his gloriously naked body and running her hands all over his chest and stomach and…lower. She cupped his balls and he spread his legs to accommodate her while he angled his jaw to shave up his neck and still watch her hands in the mirror. “It's sort of hard to concentrate while you're doing that.”

“You're right.” She stroked his penis. “It's sort of hard.”

“Keep that up for a few minutes and I'll see what I can do.”

She obeyed, gladly.

“Serena.” He closed his eyes. “Give me strength.”

“Not a multitasker, huh?” she teased, placing kisses
down his back, over his shoulder blades and along his spine.

“I could nick an artery here.”

“All right.” She pouted, and made do with hugging him around his waist while he finished shaving.

Slowly but surely, his skin emerged from beneath the beard, smooth and clean. “Better?” He toweled off his face.

“Mmm.” She moved in front of him, cupped his cheeks and ran her hands down his chiseled jaw. “Love it.” He looked ten years younger.

“I'm twenty-eight. How old are you?”

“Thirty-two.”

“You have a dimple in your chin!” She reached up to put her finger in it but he caught her hand.

“Now it's payback time.” She squealed as he caught her up in his arms and took her back to bed.

Who'd have thought Max would be a playful lover? She already knew his body fit hers perfectly, but she'd never have suspected the brooding man she'd first met could melt her heart with one smile.

Melt her heart? Is that what was happening?

No, it had started before his smile. In his plane, after he'd flown off course to show her the whales. And the way he'd seemed to look right into her soul when she thanked him.

Something eternal had passed between them then. And it had changed everything.

“Where'd you go?” Max curled a finger under her chin and turned her face to him.

She got caught in his dark brown eyes. “I—I think I have feelings for you.”

The curve in his lips flattened and his eyes turned serious. Resting his weight on one elbow, he slid his hand from her chin down her throat, between her breasts and then cupped one, twirled a finger around her nipple until it tightened to a sharp point. “This kind of feeling?”

She closed her eyes and arched into his touch, aching for more. “You know what I mean.” She covered his hand with her own and waited for him to meet her gaze.

Finally, he lifted his eyes to hers. “All I know is—” his voice was raspy “—I haven't had a woman is this house since my wife died.” His gaze traveled down her body and his hand followed the same path, and then his gaze came back up to lock with hers. “And I don't shave, not for anybody.”

A profound longing surged to the surface and she reached up to pull his head down to hers. Her body pliant against his, she kissed him hard and deeply. “Make love to me again.”

His answer was to take control of the kiss, move over her and begin a trail of kisses down her body. His smooth jaw was much nicer on her skin. She didn't miss the bristly feel of his beard at all.

She came twice with his head between her thighs, her fingers tangled in his hair. And before he entered her this time, she rolled to her stomach and pulled her knees up. She concentrated on the feel of his long hard cock taking her from behind, and his warm body
surrounding hers. His chest to her back, his mouth on her neck, his hands cupping her breasts. And when he came, his breathing stuttered and he gave a rough cry from deep in his throat, then fell asleep spooned against her back.

She was starving. But she didn't have the heart to wake him again. Surely she could find something to munch on. Tugging his sweatshirt down over her head and her arms in the sleeves, she padded barefoot down the short hall.

Her stomach growled as she made her way to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Ah, bread. Peanut butter. That would do. Mickey wound himself around her feet and whined, so she opened a few cabinets searching for dog food.

He seemed to use his kitchen cabinets as storage for everything from linens to office supplies.

On a middle shelf she spied a stack of papers on top of a manila envelope with a thick rubber band around them. Her fingers itched to see what they were. She reached up, pulled them out and spied an FAA seal on the letterhead.

She stopped.

She couldn't do it. He would tell her about the crash when he was ready. Until then, she didn't need to know. She knew in her heart he wasn't into anything bad or illegal. The rest didn't matter.

She reached up to replace the stack.

“So, all this was just for a story after all.” Max's menacing tone sent chills racing down her spine.

S
ERENA DROPPED
the papers and spun to face him.

He stood at the entry to the kitchen wearing jeans and nothing else. Except a look of pure fury.

“Max.” She scooped the bundle off the floor. God, her pulse was skittery. “I was hungry.”

“Right.” His expression went blank, but his eyes still glittered with disgust. He folded his arms, leaned against the wall and crossed a foot over the other. “I always eat paper when I'm really hungry.”

“I was looking for dog food.” She closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. Tried again. “I was hungry, so I came to the kitchen. But Mickey started whining when I got out the bread and peanut butter.” There. The food sat on the counter as evidence. She pointed to it. “So, I started looking for dog food.”

“I see you had your story all worked out.”

She frowned. “It's not a story. It's the truth.”

He pushed off the wall and closed the distance between them. She suppressed the urge to back away. “So,
did you learn everything you needed to know?” He gestured at the papers still in her hand.

“I was putting them back when you came in.” Dammit. That didn't sound good. “I mean, I was putting them back without looking at them.”

“Now why would you do that when you went to all this trouble to find them?”

She flinched, but she wouldn't dignify the accusation with a response. “I admit I was curious when I saw them. I got them down. But I didn't read them.”

“Well, hell. Go ahead.” He took them from her and tugged off the rubber band. “You paid for the information, so you can't leave here without reading them. Let's see,” he said, and leafed through several papers. “Which one would be the juiciest bit of information for your ‘investigative piece'?” He sneered the last two words.

“Max, don't do this.”

A stack of postcards fell to the floor while he was still rifling through the papers. “Oh, here you go.” He bent over and scooped them up. “Postcards from my alcoholic mother. That should be worth something.” He pitched them on the counter. “And how about this?” He held up a note. “A letter from the family of one of the men I killed calling me a murderer, and vowing to prosecute me to the full extent of the law. I'm sure if you contact them they'll be glad to give you a quote.”

“Max, please.” No matter how many times she blinked, she couldn't stop the tears. “I need you to believe me. I didn't come here for this. I care about you. I've never felt like this bef—”

“Stop. Just stop the act, Serena.” He pitched the rest of the papers on the counter and stared at the cabinets be hind her. “Get dressed. I want you out of this house.”

Drawing a deep breath, she gripped his arm. “I'm not leaving until you believe me. Making love with you was not a ploy to get information. And I may have thought about reading those papers for a split second, but I didn't do it. I don't need to because I know in here—” she pointed to her gut “—that whatever happened that day was not your fault.”

His jaw muscle ticked—she could see it so clearly on his clean-shaven face—but he wouldn't look at her. “If you don't get dressed, I'll carry you out to the truck and take you back just as you are.”

Staring at him, she bit her lip to keep it from trembling and swiped at a tear. If he'd only look her in the eyes, he would see that she was telling the truth. “How could you believe that I was acting after what we did tonight?” She reached up to touch his cheek.

He recoiled from her touch. “If you don't want to be dropped off at the hotel looking like that, you better get some clothes on.”

She couldn't stop the tears, but she sure as hell knew when to give up. Through blurry eyes she darted down the hall to his bedroom, snatched her clothes and underwear off the floor and went into the bathroom.

When she came out, Max was fully dressed, even had his parka on, and was waiting by the door. He drove her back to the North Slope Inn in silence and she got out
on her own. Before she closed the door, he said, “The deal was, you leave tomorrow.”

“Don't worry. I'll catch the first flight out going anywhere.” She slammed the door and didn't look back as she marched into the hotel.

Thank goodness the lobby was empty. Serena couldn't have faced any questions or innuendo from Chris about where she'd been tonight. As soon as she got to her room, she pulled out her laptop and looked up departing flights from Barrow. The first flight was to Fairbanks at 9:05 a.m. She purchased a one-way ticket.

She checked the time on her cell. Just after 3:00 a.m. She never had purchased a suitcase, which was just as well. She didn't want to take anything with her except what she came with. If she could leave the memories of Max here, she'd do that too. His hurtful words kept repeating in her mind.

After the finality of buying the ticket, the pain hit her full force. She sobbed in the shower until she couldn't cry anymore. Drained of emotion, she stood in the bathroom combing her wet hair. Pain turned to resentment. How could he believe she'd only had sex with him to gain access to his personal papers? Couldn't he tell what they shared was real?

By the time she'd dried her hair and applied her makeup, she was numb. She pulled the curling iron and nail polish out of her purse, fixed her hair, did her nails. If she was going to be run out of town she'd do it looking gorgeous.

One thing she couldn't face was Chris and Arna over
breakfast. It may have been cowardly, but she left a note for the couple, explaining that she had to get back to L.A. for work. She slid her arms in her ski jacket, gathered up her laptop and purse, and went out to her rented car.

It took her over thirty minutes to melt and scrape the ice off the windshield, but at least the sleet had stopped.

Telling herself she could follow the signs to the airport, she set off with three hours to spare. She'd sit in the airport and have some coffee. And she wouldn't have to risk Arna and Chris asking her about the trip to Shishmaref, or giving each other a look about where she'd been all night.

The road was slick with ice. It was pitch dark and the fog was so thick she could barely see five feet in front of her. Even streetlights couldn't penetrate the gloom.

Somewhere, she must have made a wrong turn. She tried to turn the car around at an intersection, but it slid out of control. It spun around, plunged off the side of the road and landed with the back end in a ditch and the headlights pointing up toward the street. Steam fumed from under the hood and the engine wouldn't restart. Dammit. She felt the loss of the heater instantly.

Her door wasn't blocked, but what would she do if she got out—walk? Not in this temperature. Fear set in. It was ten below out there. No one knew where she was. It could be hours before someone got to her. People died of exposure. What else could she screw up? Was she such a failure that she couldn't even get herself
to the airport? Telling herself it was just lack of sleep didn't help.

Get a hold of yourself, Sandstone. Think.

She dug in her purse for her cell phone. There was a signal! But she was too humiliated to call Chris and Arna and wake them up. What could they do that she couldn't do for herself? Surely there was a garage with a tow truck. She tried information, got the name of a repair garage and let it dial. Got a machine. Not that she could tell them where she was even if she spoke to them.

Don't be stupid, Serena. Call the police.

She dialed 911 and described her surroundings to the dispatch operator. Unfortunately, her surroundings were a street she didn't know the name of, and fog. She couldn't even see a street sign.

Leaving her headlights on, she turned on her emergency blinkers and waited. The long day, the emotional upheaval of the evening and a night with no sleep finally caught up with her. She leaned the seat back and closed her eyes, listening to sleet begin to hit the windshield.

 

M
AX JERKED
open the fridge, grabbed a beer with shaking hands and tossed back half of it before he hit the couch. How stupid could a grown man be? He'd brought her here when she'd asked. To his home. And he'd shaved his freakin' beard! For her!

He finished the brew and threw the emptied glass bottle into the fireplace, enjoying the sound of it breaking into shards.

He'd let her into his cabin. Into his life. And almost—thankfully he hadn't—almost into his heart. She'd really had him going there for a while with her “I think I have feelings for you.” But she'd come closer to winning an Emmy than a Pulitzer with that act.

By the time he'd finished off the third and last beer in his fridge, his anger had dissipated to bitter regret. He stretched out on the couch. No way he could go into his bedroom right now.

It had started to sleet again an hour or so ago. He should try to get some sleep. He'd need to check in on his grandmother once the sun rose. Make sure she had enough firewood and food.

The phone rang, startling him wide awake as he grabbed it up. “Taggert.”

“She is in danger, grandson.”

“Aanaga?”
He sat up on the couch. “Are you all right?”

“It's Serena. I saw her in a vision. She's in danger.”

“No. She's fine. We…had a disagreement. What you probably sensed was our fight.”

“No, grandson. It's more. She's lost.”

Like his mother was lost? “I dropped her off at her hotel.”

“I called there. Arna says she checked out and her rental car is gone.”

“Then she's gone to the airport to catch a flight.” The roads would be icy, but she had her cell phone if anything happened. She was a grown woman. She could take care of herself.

“Please. You must find her. Make sure she is safe.”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I'll call her cell. Okay?”

“
Ii
. Find her.” She hung up.

She'd forced her business card into his pocket before he'd left her in Nome, but he'd trashed it once he got home. Now, he dug through the wastebasket by his dresser. Come on…there it was.

He dialed her cell number and it went straight to voice. He thought about his grandmother's vision and worry kicked into high gear.

Two quick calls. One to a friend at the airport to check if anyone matching Serena's description was waiting around for any of the morning flights leaving Barrow. And the second, to the only car rental in town, to see if Serena had returned her car yet. Both answers were no.

Dammit. She could be anywhere. But nowhere warm unless she'd gone to the twenty-four hour store. He called there, but he knew the answer he would hear. No one fitting that description. He called the police. They'd already received her 911 call and had issued a “be on the lookout” for her. But they didn't have the manpower to send out any more than the two squad cars already patrolling.

He thought of his curse and felt the truth of his grandmother's vision deep in his gut. Another person he'd come into contact with was going to die.

Tamping down his dread, he yanked on his boots, grabbed his parka and gloves and the keys to his truck
and whistled for Mickey. “Come on, boy.” He opened the truck door and the dog leaped into the passenger's seat. Max decided to try the route from the North Slope Inn to the airport first.

Between the sleet and the fog, searching was slow and tedious. She'd been driving a light gold SUV. Not a color that stood out. With every minute that passed, Max's chest tightened a little more. How long had she been missing? How could he live with himself if something happened to her?

He'd driven every street in Barrow twice when he made one last turn onto a dead-end street no one ever used except to get to the lake. The lake! It should be frozen solid, but the ice was melting sooner every year. What if she'd driven onto it? Would it hold that SUV? His heart pummeled his chest. His stomach roiled. He sped up, and almost missed the slowly flashing emergency lights on the SUV.

Slamming on his brakes, he skidded on the icy road and the truck spun 360 degrees. Max jumped out and ran to the rental car half on its side in the ditch.

How long had she been sitting out here? What if she'd hit her head and bled out? Or hypothermia had already set in?

He hadn't gotten to her in time. It would be just like Shelley all over again. He hadn't gotten her to the hospital in time either. Memories of that night flashed through his mind. Shelley screaming in pain. The blood. So much blood. Then he was back in the plane, covered in blood and the man screaming in pain. No matter how
much he told himself he didn't believe in such a thing, he knew this was because of his curse.

Eventually, everyone he cared about left him, or died.

Gulping in air, he saw the SUV as if through a tunnel. He doubled over, bracing his hands on his knees.
Get it under control, Taggert.
He was no good to Serena if he panicked. He drew in a deep breath. And then another.

He got to the car door and opened it. Serena was unconscious, but there was no blood. He felt her head for injuries and found none. A knot formed in his throat and he couldn't speak for a second. “Serena!” Her skin was cold to the touch, and her heartbeat was slow. Not good. Much longer without warming her up and it would be too late. “Serena, wake up.” He rubbed her cheek. “Serena!”

She wasn't waking up. He had to raise her body temperature. Now.

He unclipped her seat belt, scooped her up into his arms and got her into his truck with the heater running full blast. “Keep her warm, Mickey.” The dog laid his chest on Serena's lap, his front paws hanging over the other side.

Max didn't remember the drive to the hospital. She still hadn't woken up. He skidded the truck to a stop at the emergency room doors, and carried her up to the check-in desk. “She's been exposed to the cold a couple hours at least. I think she's hypothermic.”