Ally tipped her head back, letting her hood fall away as she drank in the incredible light show dancing above them. At least the northern lights hadn’t disappointed her. “You know, Mitchell, life’s such a crap-shoot. I finally get the mentor of my dreams, and she’s a nympho.”
“Stalking wild animals could have brought out her inner wild animal. Maybe after a while you’ll get like that, making suggestive remarks, grabbing guys by the cojones.”
She turned her head to look at him. “I think not.” He smiled. “Those lights… torn your face kind of green.”
“Like a Martian?”
“Yeah.” He moved closer, still smiling. “Except you don’t have the antennae. Otherwise, the resemblance is uncanny.”
“How romantic.” Kidding around like this helped take the sting out of her disappointment. He probably knew that. Besides being sexy, he was also sweet.
“Actually, it is romantic. I loved those movies.” He reached up, took off his glasses and pressed them into her gloved hand. “Hold these for me.”
“Why?” She thought she knew why. He was about to plant one on her. And she was about to let him.
He cupped her face in both hands and leaned closer. “I’m not putting any pressure on you. This doesn’t mean I expect you to go to bed with me. But I really want to kiss you in the glow from the northern lights.”
She was way too eager for this and felt sort of vulnerable as a result. She tried to make light of his offer. “So it turns out you have an alien fetish. Who knew?”
“There are lots of things you don’t know about me.” And his lips touched hers.
She hadn’t thought he could improve on that first kiss, but she’d been wrong. This time his mouth was warmer… well, no, hot would be the operative word. She tasted the nutty flavor of the beer he’d been drinking, but the overriding flavor was lust, and she couldn’t get enough of it.
Oh, how she loved the way this man kissed, without hesitation, as if he knew exactly what he intended and would let nothing stand in his way. She didn’t know how he communicated so much with the simple movement of his lips and tongue, but he left no doubt as to what he wanted from her.
And she wanted to give him everything he was asking for… and then give some more. Vaguely she remembered that this was supposed to be a no-pressure kiss. Fat chance. Seconds into the kiss, she could think of nothing better than getting naked and attending to unfinished business. She and Mitchell might have little in common, but they had one particular matter they completely agreed on, and he was reminding her of it.
He lifted his mouth a fraction and his breath warmed her cheeks. “I like this.”
She had to be honest. “Me, too.” And she pulled him back for more. Their mouths fit together as if made exclusively for this. The rest of their parts might go together just as well. Probably would. And thanks to this kissing business, she wanted to find out. She was sure that had been his intention all along.
* * *
Kurt had parked his truck and fifth wheel beside David Beedleman’s small house on the edge of town, but in a burg the size of Porcupine, one edge of town was only a block from the other edge. He’d angled the fifth wheel so that he had a view out the side window that included the entire street. He’d done that to try and keep an eye on Vivian. The woman was out of control.
She might have her gun, but he had something she didn’t know about, a pair of night-vision binoculars. He’d thought they might come in handy, and sure enough, he was already doing some useful surveillance. He’d caught Mitchell and Ally playing kissy-face.
Vivian had said something might be going on between those two. Kurt didn’t like the idea of Vivian getting it on with Mitchell, but he didn’t want Mitchell involved with Ally, either. Maybe Viv was on to something with her plan to get into Mitchell’s pants. And it wasn’t like he’d ever expected her to be faithful to him, anyway.
Yeah, he needed to promote that plan of Viv’s. He’d thought she was off on another tangent, but maybe she knew exactly what she was doing. She’d said that Mitchell didn’t like Kurt, and the feeling was mutual. That geek had wormed his way into Madeline’s good graces and was probably siphoning money like a gas thief at a car dealership.
If anybody was going to siphon from Madeline’s accounts it would be Kurt, not that pencil-pusher. So whatever Viv needed to engineer her seduction of Mitchell J. Carruthers, Jr., Kurt would provide. Mitchell was definitely in the way.
* * *
Kissing Ally made Mitch forget about everything, even the temperature, which had probably dipped close to zero by this time of night. He should probably cease and desist before their lips froze together, but she tasted so damned good. Ally’s kiss was premium-grade, blue-ribbon gourmet fare. He didn’t think that had anything to do with her net worth in dollars, but it had a lot to do with her net worth as a person.
Ally had principles, and now he wanted to get past at least one of them, the one that kept her from going to bed with him. He’d lied when he’d said he had no ulterior motives for kissing her. His kiss was loaded with ulterior motives.
She backed off a smidgen, and he came after her, not willing to let up when he could tell she was losing ground to her lust.
“Wait.” She slid her fingers over his mouth as she gasped for breath. “I thought… you weren’t putting pressure… on me.”
“That’s what guys always say.” He ran his tongue along the groove between her fingers. “They’re always putting pressure on you. That’s what guys do.”
“Mitch, I don’t feel right about this.”
“I do.” He tried to get a good hold on her, but between her parka and his, they were chastely separated by a good four inches of down and weatherproof nylon. She kept slip-sliding away. “I have an idea,” he said. “I’ll bet we could unzip these things and then zip them together, like a double sleeping bag.”
“Mitchell, we’re in the middle of the street.”
“We’re in the middle of the street in Porcupine, Alaska, which is not the same as being in the middle of the street in Los Angeles, California.” He reached for her zipper.
She brushed his hand away. “Stop it, you crazy man. We’re leaving our coats on.”
“Okay, but I hope you realize that if everybody had to wear these coats all the time, the human race would die out completely.”
That made her smile.
“Your teeth are greenish, too.”
“You say the sweetest things. No wonder I crave your body.”
“You do?” He grabbed her hand and nibbled on her fingers.
“That’s not saying I’ll give in to that craving.”
“Give in, Ally. Let’s indulge in some cheap, tawdry, meaningless sex.”
“I couldn’t do that to you, Mitchell. I—”
He groaned. “I know. You respect me too much.”
“It’s true! You got me through the bad time after Grammy died, so how can I repay you by having sex and then tossing you aside like a used condom?”
“At least that condom had its moment of glory.”
“You do realize that you’re thinking with your—”
“Probably, and I never realized before how smart my buddy is. He’s a Zen kind of guy, wants to live for the moment.”
Ally shook her head. “You’d hate me later. And we have to maintain a working relationship, don’t forget.”
“Okay, I’ll draw up a binding contract that absolves you of all responsibility for my state of mind during the act itself and for months afterward. How’s that?”
“Mitchell, be serious.”
“I’m as serious as a heart attack. Tell me what it would take for you to feel guilt-free about this.”
“Nothing.” She wiggled out of his arms. “I’d be worried about it forever.”
“That’s a long time.” He wondered if she was strong enough to take a pass. Maybe. “Okay, what are the alternatives to having sex, now that we’ve made our escape from the Top Hat and Tanya, who
seems obsessed with my crotch?”
“Understandable obsession.”
“Now you’re teasing me.”
She sighed. “I am, and I apologize.”
“Don’t apologize. Go to bed with me, Ally.”
She gazed at him for a long time, obviously still struggling with her decision. “I thought we were going to play cards.”
“I never intended for us to play cards, and you know it.”
“Well, I did intend for us to play cards.”
He decided the skirmish could continue more productively inside than out here. “Okay. How about your place? Mine’s a mess.” He didn’t want her in there prowling around and finding things like a tracking system for the microtransmitter he’d put in her backpack. And there was the little matter of his gun. That might freak her out a bit.
“It’s a date. My place.” She started down the sidewalk toward the Loose Moose.
“You’re on.” He glanced back at the northern lights, which were still waving and dancing in the night sky. He would never choose Alaska as his favorite spot in the world, but snowmobiling had been excellent, and the northern lights were cool. Oh, yeah, and the nights were long in Alaska. If he could spend them fooling around with Ally, Alaska would be tolerable.
He followed her to the Loose Moose. So they’d play cards. Maybe the card game would lead to something else. Maybe not. But he needed to remember, regardless of where the card game led, that Ally was rich and he was not rich. She would most likely spend her life in Alaska building a reputation as a wildlife photographer, and he would return to tend the books in Bel Air.
But first he had to make sure she didn’t fall prey to Kurt Jarrett, although she seemed pretty savvy about the guy already. Mitch felt the need to stick around, though. And while he was sticking around watching out for Ally’s interests, he might get lucky. And he wasn’t talking about the poker game.
* * *
Ally breezed into the lobby, shrugged out of her coat, and sat down on the bench to take off her boots. “I think we should get some beer out of the refrigerator and take it upstairs,” she said. “You always have beer at poker parties, right?”
“Sure.”
She was feeling a little reckless, and that probably wasn’t a good thing, considering the fact that she was about to spend time in a room that contained both Mitchell and a bed. But strange as it seemed, she felt safer with Mitchell than she had with Uncle Kurt and Tanya.
She knew instinctively that Mitchell wouldn’t hurt her, but she couldn’t be sure about Uncle Kurt or Tanya. She’d had such high hopes, and yet now it seemed she’d have to learn her craft from a woman she respected professionally but couldn’t stand personally. That sucked.
“I’ll get the beer.” She tucked her boots under the bench and walked toward the kitchen in her socks. “Meet me in my room with the cards.”
“Okay.”
She glanced at him sitting on the bench, one boot off and one still on. He might be a dork, but he was a really cute dork, and at least he was the person he claimed to be. “I need to say one thing, and I never thought I’d say this. But I’m glad you came to Alaska.”
“It was my job.”
“No it wasn’t. Nobody could interpret your job as needing to run up here and check on me. But I know that’s what you decided to do, and I appreciate it.”
He looked uncomfortable with the praise. “Listen, it was no big deal. I know I’ve complained a few times, but I—”
“Mitchell, accept that you did a good thing by coming up here. You didn’t know there would be this major attraction between us. That was totally unforeseen.”
“Not exactly.” He’d put his glasses back on and now he was regarding her with touching sincerity. “I’ve felt that tug-of-war from the first time I met you. I’ve been fighting it, but I knew it was there.”
She flushed with pleasure. It was shallow of her, but she couldn’t help it. He’d been drawn to her all along. “So that’s why you flew up here?” Maybe the original story, that he had a crush, was actually the true story.
“No. At least not consciously. I flew up here to make sure you were okay. Madeline… would have wanted me to.”
“Probably she would have, if she’d known I had such a wild adventure planned.” Ally had a sudden thought. “You don’t suppose that Grammy meant to throw us together?”
He shook his head. “I’m sure she hoped you’d find somebody in your league. I’m not, Ally. We both know that.”
“I don’t know that. I don’t know anything about leagues.” She was impatient with the whole concept. “What am I supposed to do, find some exotic foreign prince?”
“That’s the general idea.”
“Well, I’m not in the market for a prince, or a husband, for that matter. So if you’re hoping to safely marry me off so you don’t have to worry about me anymore, forget it.”
His eyes flashed with unmistakable anger. “I’m not hoping to marry you off.”
She couldn’t tell if he was angry with her or himself. “I’m glad we got that straightened out, then. No wedding. I’ll get the beer.” As she walked into the kitchen and flipped on a light, she remembered the refrigerator raid they’d staged the night before, and getting caught in here while Betsy and Clyde made whoopee in the lobby.
She’d had some great fun with Mitchell in the short time he’d been here. Although she’d worried that he’d become an anchor around her neck, it hadn’t worked out that way. She would miss him when he left.
His reaction to the marriage topic was strange, though. Logically, he should be thrilled if she found the right guy, settled down, and started having babies. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about her marrying a fortune hunter. He might also believe that a husband and kids would make her think twice before taking risky trips into the wilderness.
Yet he hadn’t seemed as overjoyed with the marriage prospect as she would have expected. No matter how she sliced it, she kept coming to the same conclusion—Mitchell had a crush on her. Although he didn’t believe she could ever be his, he didn’t want to think about her marrying someone else. A crush would explain everything.
Given the probability of that, she had no business having sex with him, not tonight, not ever. He wouldn’t be practical about it, as she’d projected earlier today. He would get in deeper and be hurt worse.
Pulling a couple of beers out of the refrigerator, she closed the door with her hip. Sure, Mitchell might be willing to take whatever crumbs she’d toss his way. That’s how a guy would react if he had a hopeless case.
But for her to get his hopes up by giving in to her own selfish urges—that would be cruel. So it looked as if she’d be playing poker tonight and then going to bed. Alone. Thinking of that, she went back to the refrigerator and pulled out two more beers.
* * *
Mitch discovered that his bathroom door was still MIA, apparently being repaired by Clyde in his spare time. Since the door from the bathroom into Ally’s room could only be locked from the bathroom side, Mitch had instant access to her room. He decided to get the bug out from under her bed before she came in.
Scooting under the bed on his back, he took off his glasses and stuck them in his pocket as he peered around, trying to remember exactly where he’d attached the damned thing. Was it on the inside of the left leg at the end of the bed, or the right leg? If he weren’t thinking so much about sex right now, he’d be able to remember.
As he was searching for it, the door opened.
“Mitchell?”
Dammit. “Yeah.” How in God’s name would he explain this? In the process of fumbling to get his glasses back on and wiggling out from under the bed, he banged his head on the support rail.
“Ouch! You hit your head! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He rubbed his head and sat up.
Holding a pair of beer bottles in each hand, she regarded him with great suspicion. “Okay, now that I know you’re fine, please explain what the hell you were
doing under my bed.”
Chapter Twenty
Mitchell scrambled for an explanation. “I thought I saw something.”
Clearly she didn’t believe that for a minute. “Usually when someone sees something under the bed and goes to investigate, they crawl under on their belly. Scooting under on your back makes no sense.”
God, he was so screwed. He pushed his glasses more firmly onto the bridge of his nose, buying time.
“Well, Mitchell?”
“Okay, Ally. I wasn’t going to let you know about this, because I thought it might freak you out. But I think your bed is bugged.”
She stared at him. “What do you mean, my bed is bugged?” Are we talking creepy crawly things or are we talking little electronic things?”
“Little electronic things.”
Now she was looking at him like he was crazy.
“Mitchell, did you see that movie a while back, A Beautiful Mind? It’s the one where Russell Crowe plays the genius guy who has imaginary friends and thinks there’s some sort of conspiracy he has to untangle.”
“I saw it, but—”
“Because that’s who you’re sounding like—that guy. And never mind about the bug situation. You’re freaking me out.”
“Hold on a minute.” He slid back under the bed, finally saw the device he’d planted and pulled it loose. This time when he came out from under the bed he was careful not to whack himself on the head. He already had enough problems without adding a concussion to the list.
“What’s that?” She crouched down and studied the microtransmitter.
“A bug.”
She continued to gaze at it. “Boy, I owe you an apology. It sure looks like one. But why would anyone put a bug under my bed?”
“Well, I have a theory.” Which he would pull right out of his ass. “This lodge would have been the perfect out-of-the-way rendezvous for double agents during the Cold War. I mean, think of it. Russia is right across the Bering Strait.” If she believed this woolly tale, he should take up fiction writing.
Her eyes got round. “You think double agents stayed here?”
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