Fatal Attractions

by Jeanne Foguth

  And Stone’s behavior made her realize that she needed to reevaluate other beliefs and weigh their truth as well. Only one thing seemed certain: guns did not make a man evil, they only increased a malicious man’s ruthlessness. The person’s heart and true self were the important things. Ariel felt along Stone’s tense muscles, then carefully applied acupressure at the critical spot and counted off fifteen seconds.

  Stone tilted his head toward the pad she’d left open on the lichen. “You’re better than my chiropractor.”

  “Thank you for protecting me.”

  “I was defending myself just as much as you.”

  “I know, and you really didn’t want to kill that bear. Even if its head would have made a good trophy or its hide a rug.”

  “Don’t make me out to be a saint. I killed a bear once.”

  “For the thrill of it?” She was gratified to hear how neutral her tone sounded.

  He scowled. “There’s no thrill to killing. Ever.” He grasped her hands and turned to face her. She knew at least four people who could debate that statement with him, but if it looked like Stone might win the debate, any one of them would cheerfully shoot him between the eyes. “I’ve killed a lot of animals.” He took a cleansing breath. “Back home, my parents butcher a couple head each year for their consumption. Usually bulls. I never liked helping them, but it was a chore we all had to do.”

  Ariel stared into his sincere eyes, and wondered what she could say that could possibly convey her gratitude to him for restoring a portion of her faith in humanity. When no words came, she cupped his face between her palms, and then brushed her lips against his. When his arms wrapped around her and his lips parted, she eagerly deepened the kiss.

  ~0~

  Emersion therapy supposedly worked. Right? Stone frowned at the failure of its power to break his obsession with Ariel. Plunging into a situation, which forced him to see her practically 24/7 should have broken whatever attraction she held. It hadn’t. His scowl deepened. Wilderness survival had effectively defeated other obsessions. It still rankled that he hadn’t discovered the strategy until after Marishka scalded him. Emersion therapy had even effectively conquered his sister, Brittany’s addiction to chocolate. Though she seemed just as tempting, Ariel wasn’t chocolate. And he hoped she wasn’t another Marishka.

  She baffled him as much as she intrigued him.

  Ariel Danner certainly danced to her own drummer. Instead of trying to talk his ear off in the guise of friendly chatter, she lapsed into quiet companionship, which somehow made him even more aware of the way her curves met his angles. After he’d seen her distrust of guns, he’d forced her into a situation he calculated as being uncomfortable for her. A situation designed to drive her away. But she’d faced her fears. And she’d felt like she belonged in his arms. Stone glowered. The subject of weapons and the need for them had seemed like the ideal motivator to make her consider leaving the entire damned state, let alone her proximity to him, but then she’d explained how and why she’d come to feel the way she did and it had only made her seem more real, more fragile, more desirable and more damned kissable.

  That thought slammed a riot of sensations through him.

  She was making his plan impossible.

  Stone chewed the inside of his cheek and recalled the way he’d responded to her probing tongue; the way he’d lost his senses to her intoxicating taste; the way he’d wrapped his arms around her; the way he’d never wanted to let Ariel go. She fit perfectly against him, as if she’d been made for him to hold. As the kiss had deepened, her body had molded more tightly to his. His body hardened at the memory.

  The woman had gone from frigid one minute to hotter than sin the next. There was no explaining it. And Stone did not like unexplainable things.

  He clenched his jaws. What the hell did Ariel want from him? Surely, it wasn’t the citizenship, Marishka had craved. Of course, his ex had targeted him because he’d represented citizenship plus a seven-digit payoff. The muscles in the back of his neck knotted as he considered the myriad of motives women threw themselves at men. Usually their reasons came down to some form of power. Did Ariel know who his family was? Was she after prestige? Money?

  Or did she simply want to fool with him?

  At the divorce, he’d vowed never to fall prey to womanly wiles, again. If he didn’t watch it, he could fail his pledge. A muscle in his jaw twitched with tension. Perhaps the best defense against her innocent act was a good offense. “You want to screw here or wait until we get back to camp?”

  A blush rose from her neck to hairline. “Neither.” She took several steps away from him and dropped her gaze, as if she was too shocked by his offer to know what to do. And thus, the ice queen returned. Was this another ploy? Whatever it was, he couldn’t let her know that she’d gotten under his skin, like no one except his ex-wife. Until Ariel Danner, he’d been certain his marriage to Marishka had taught him how to deflect the most determined female aggressor.

  So why was Ariel different? Was it the way she could swing between innocence and carnality? As if sensing the intensity of his thoughts, or perhaps thinking he’d jump her, Ariel took another backward step.

  Stone shouldered his rifle. “If you don’t want to get it on, it’s time to start back.”

  Ariel clutched her notebook to her chest. Eyes low, as if feeling guilty for throwing herself at him, she began limping back toward camp.

  Feeling like a heartless ass, Stone followed.

  As they silently hiked back to the campsite, he nearly told her that in the future she should keep her hands to herself and not make him feel things like tenderness, but if he’d put his thoughts into words, it would have revealed too much to her. Instead, he clamped his teeth together and let his gaze sweep from her disheveled bun past her rigid shoulders, down to her gently swaying hips, then focused on the ankle, which she was favoring. Marishka would have demanded to be carried, perhaps insisted that she needed to be flown to civilization and a hospital. Marishka wouldn’t have cried over an animal, either. She hadn’t shed a tear when she’d had ‘the inconvenience he’d deposited in her’ cut away. What kind of woman considered a baby a nuisance? Not that kids didn’t create problems, but they sure couldn’t be considered to be one-hundred-percent irritant! Feeling cold as his thoughts, Stone looked away from Ariel. He bit the insides of his cheeks and studied the harsh scenery that he loved.

  Had Ariel’s fall been a play for sympathy? He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Her limp seemed consistent. So did the scratches on her arms and face. Marishka would never have spilled her own blood on purpose. Well, except to murder his child, that was. Stone scowled.

  Did weapons really frighten her? If her kid was any clue, that part could be real. The hunting experience had sounded plausible, too. “Let’s take a break,” he said. Ariel stopped, her posture tense. Stone surveyed the scenery he loved. “Amazing isn’t it?” Three furrows creased her brow, as she glanced from him to the surrounding view, as if trying to determine what he was looking at. Sunlight without warmth bathed the frozen soil, highlighting the soft curves of the stark land. Stone gestured in the direction of the vast plain, the shadow of his arm stretched far into the distance. “It’s hard to believe this was once tropical.”

  Her frown deepened. “Tropical?” Her tone conveyed total disbelief. “Here?”

  Finally, he had her talking. He scowled. What kind of science did she teach? “Years ago, when the dinosaurs were king.”

  She blinked. “I thought this area had always been frozen.” Ariel clumsily sat down and began massaging her ankle.

  Stone glanced from Ariel to the plain. Paleontology should have been a safe topic with someone who taught science, yet she seemed genuinely amazed by his comment. “As far as human history goes.”

  “Do you think oil comes from some sort of rotting vegetation?”

  He narrowed his gaze. “I’ve heard that some scientists believe it’s the product of eons of continuing chemical chan
ges made to sedimentary material by microscopic organisms.”

  “And they’re probably right, but that seems so cut and dried.”

  “You don’t follow research?”

  “Not that type.” Ariel turned her back on him, as if her answer should have satisfied him, when it only spawned more questions.

  “What exactly do you teach?”

  His sharp tone startled her. “Anatomy.”

  “Bones?”

  She nodded. “Bones. Muscles, tendons, veins and glands, too.” She gave him an apologetic smile.

  Stone picked up a pebble, fingering it while he weighed her words. “I’ve always wondered if oil is partly responsible for the continental shift.” What had possessed him to make that asinine comment?

  Ariel’s face registered interest. “Are all oil wells on or near coastlines?”

  He shook his head.

  She sighed. “Pardon me for not knowing much about the past history of this area or about oil.”

  “A significant percentage of fields are located near continental shelves, so I’ve often theorized that one function of oil is to lubricate the plates.” He raised a brow and waited.

  “My mother believed volcanoes and earthquakes were the reason Pangaea broke up in the Mesozoic Era.” Ariel leaned back on her elbows, her eyes closed and her expression dreamy.

  She knew more than she pretended. Stone studied her seemingly relaxed pose. Did she realize her breasts thrust against her shirt when she arched her back like that? He tore his gaze away from the tantalizing mounds and looked at the horizon.

  “Did you ever wonder what sort of cataclysm it took to break the mother continent into seven?” she asked.

  “Nope, never wondered about that.” His attention remained riveted on her up-thrust breasts.

  “I wonder what it would have been like to have one gigantic island continent without mountains or valleys in the middle of the prehistoric ocean.”

  “Think you’d have like to live then?”

  Ariel’s lids shot up and her gaze centered on him, as if she was surprised to discover he was there, and then she slowly raised one shoulder in a shrug that dried his mouth.

  ~0~

  Would any of Peter’s lackeys sit on frigid ground discussing theories about pre-history?

  Doubtful.

  Stone acted completely unlike anyone Peter had ever palled around with. Perhaps that accounted for her sense of security with him. Ariel’s tension ebbed. “I like your idea about oiled continental shelves. It makes the world seem so mechanical and well lubricated.” She grinned at him.

  He gave her such a warm smile in return that the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled with merriment. Wow he ‘got’ her sense of humor. Amazing to find a guy like him in this frozen wasteland. Still grinning, Stone held his hand out to her. Not sensing the Neanderthal that he’d seemed to turn into when he’d acted like he expected her to have sex, she grasped his hand without hesitation, then they headed companionably toward camp.

  Not wanting to trip, she watched her step over the rough ground. After a half hour, the ground leveled out and smoothed flat as a road, but he continued to hold her hand. This was nice. Very nice. Unwilling to let him see her smile, she turned her face away, Their combined shadow moved across rugged land, looking ominously like fate was stabbing them in the back. A lump of apprehension formed in her throat. She swallowed and reminded herself to breath, as she looked at him to see what made the shadow. The gun he carried was casting the unsettling silhouette. Guns. They couldn’t even look hopeful as shadows!

  Unwilling to let horrible memories or paranoia ruin the day, Ariel focused straight ahead, determined to enjoy the day. As they walked back to camp, the air seemed fresher, the breeze sweeter, and the world less threatening. When their tents came into sight, a familiar screech rent the air.

  “Ariel! Link and I had a grrrreat time!” Tempest hollered as she sprinted toward them, agile as a gazelle despite the rocky ground. “I saw a raven big as a eagle.” Without missing a step, she threw her arms wide. “And it wasn’t scared of us one bit. It just sat there eating and cawing as if it owned everything.” Tempest skidded to a stop next to her.

  “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Ariel said.

  “Ohhhhh, I did!” Tempest bounced around with delight reminiscent of either a pagan dance or a puppet on a wire. “What’d you see? Any birds?”

  “Some. Mainly, we watched the caribou until a bear chased it away.”

  “A bear!” Tempest stopped as if turned to stone. She clasped her palm to her heart. “You saw real live polar bear!”

  Ariel glanced at Stone. He took the hint and said, “It was a black bear.” Link gave him an incredulous look. Stone squared his wide shoulders and hitched up his chin, as if defending himself from an unspoken rebuke. Ariel glanced between Link and Stone, trying to decipher the undercurrents flowing between them. “They don’t normally stray this far north, but it’s not unheard of.”

  Tempest gave a dramatic sigh. “A real live bear! I wish I could have seen it.”

  Link shrugged. Stone raised an eyebrow, then focused his gaze on Ariel’s notebook as he gave her a telling look. When she opened it and showed her sketches to Link, Stone crowded close behind her. She felt his heat from shoulder to thigh. It distracted her so much that she held up the journal without commentary.

  “Ohhhhhh, what a wonderful animal! And so’s that.” Tempest’s grubby finger jabbed the air above a sketch of the caribou. She bounced on the balls of her feet. “It’s a boy. Right?” She looked up at Stone.

  Ariel glanced over her shoulder, just in time to see Stone’s dimples deepen as he nodded. “I thought so,” Tempest said triumphantly, “but it’s so hard to tell when they all have horns.”

  “Antlers,” Link corrected, as he joined them in a tight cluster around her sketchbook.

  Ariel held the notebook as Tempest paged through and cheerfully commented about their day as depicted by the charcoal lines, but she kept sneaking glances at the soft look in Stone’s eyes as Tempest ooohed and ahhhed over the animals. Ariel was glad she hadn’t sketched Stone or made any drawings, which could have revealed her secret thoughts since she’d found comforting refuge in his arms. She’d felt safer in his arms than she had in years, and that kiss! A wave of heat rushed from her cheeks to her toes. She managed to hold the book steady, instead of fan herself.

  She sneaked another glance at Stone. His gaze locked with hers, bored into her, as if he knew she’d just been thinking about his taste. If she didn’t have to keep her wits and protect her sister from Peter, she’d accept the sensual offer in his eyes, but the one time she had allowed herself to believe in romance, it had been a trap.

  Ariel tore her gaze away from the promise in his eyes, trust the journal into Tempest’s hands, and pleading exhaustion, hurried to their tent, where she climbed into her sleeping bag and wished she could turn back time to just before she’d agreed to this trip.

  A moment later, Tempest entered their tent and hunkered next to her. “Sherry,” Tempest whispered.

  “What?”

  “Do you think F-Father recognized us?” The barely concealed panic in Tempest’s tone explained the thrashing. “I mean we were sooooo close. How could he not have recognized us?” The dim light filtering through the tent’s red dome gave the interior a sinister cast.

  Ariel shifted in her down cocoon. “We’ve changed a lot. Some mornings, when I look in a mirror I don’t even recognize myself.”

  “But he was so close.”

  “I know.” Ariel rolled to face Tempest. “We were wearing sunglasses, so he never saw our eyes. Our hair is dyed. I’ve lost a ton of weight –“

  “But I know he knew.”

  “All he can be sure of is that he saw two females of approximately the right age. That’s assuming it was –“

  “Of course it was Father. You know that.”

  “Do I? For certain?”

  “Of course you do! He follow
ed us.” The other sleeping bag rustled as Tempest climbed in. Her eyes looked large, the whites tinged pink by the dim light.

  “Are we certain the man was following us or was he just headed for the airfield?”

  “It was Father,” she said with conviction. “He wasn’t ready to deal with us. He was there to kill that guy he was fishing with. But he saw what plane we got on and he was plenty close enough to read the numbers. He’ll get a plan and come after us. Maybe he’s even at our place right now.”

  Gooseflesh erupted over her. She tried to laugh it off. “And I thought I was the queen of paranoia.” Tempest gave her an evil look. “Be logical. Even if he could read the plane’s number and bothered to research it, he still wouldn’t know who Link and Stone’s guests were.” Ariel imagined Peter entering their townhouse, seeing Mozart and knowing he’d found them, but there was no way the plane’s registration should turn up their apartment number. “If Peter recognized us, and that’s a big if, he still doesn’t know our names.” She managed to keep her tone light, “do you really think he’d let us go for even a moment, if he’d recognized us?” Tempest frowned with uncertainty. Ariel tried to think of a concrete way to convince them both. “The man just leaned against that rough old wood and smoked a cigarette.”

  “Uncle Link and Stone are big.”

  “Has Peter ever gone anywhere without a gun?” Tempest made a negative sound. Elizabeth had often theorized that Peter needed to carry a weapon to make up for some form of male deficiency. Ariel cleared her throat. “There were five people at that airport, the four of us and that guy with the greasy rag. If that man really was Peter and he’d been certain of our identity, he’d shoot everyone and ‘let the Devil sort us out’.”

  “You’re right, there were only five of us … he’d have bullets left over.”

  Ariel nodded. The canvas overhead undulated; she hoped it wasn’t some sort of malevolent omen.