She stood and played the light around the shed. Maybe she could find another gasket, and replace the oil. She wasn’t ready to give up on the machine just yet.
As she dug through odds and ends on the workbench, she acknowledged that Sloan’s ‘ice queen’ comment wasn’t far off the mark. She was calculating and controlled and frozen in her way of doing things—deliberately cultivating that image. Only Mitchell saw her differently. Even Caroline and Ed thought she mapped out every move.
When Sloan was around, she was doubly careful not to misstep. He was a wild card. A suave, sophisticated male who stirred up all those awkward schoolgirl emotions she kept under such tight control. And now, he was waiting for her in the house. Inside her personal territory.
At Northstar, she was safe behind her computer—able to maintain a professional façade. Battling his sarcasm and interruptions was her way of keeping him at arm’s length. It was instinct. Protection from the unknown. She hadn’t questioned why it was necessary—until tonight.
From the moment Sloan walked into the garage, he’d thrown her off balance. When he trapped her in the office, she’d played right into his hands. She let him touch her. Kiss her—well, sort of. That quick brush of his lips didn’t count as a real kiss. Yet it had affected her like the real thing, hadn’t it?
She found a crescent wrench and clutched it in her hand. What if they hadn’t lost the power? What would have happened? She hadn’t pushed him away. It was pointless to pretend to have any real relationship experience, but she was mature enough to admit she’d been a willing player in his game. Without even knowing the rules.
She didn’t want anyone interfering with her life path. She guarded her independence. Alone in the dark shed, she acknowledged that Sloan had exposed a vulnerability—a hidden desire to be loved. It scared her.
Shaking off the feeling, she pointed the flashlight at a small set of drawers. Maybe she’d find a replacement gasket in there.
Why was she suddenly having these feelings around Sloan? Could it be the attraction between them was real? If he asked for more, she was afraid she might give in. That would be a huge mistake.
The office gossip mill was filled with the legendary trail of broken hearts left behind by Sloan Cartland. He would steal any meager crumbs she offered—and then leave her picking up the pieces like shattered ice chips.
Were these the feelings that ensnared Caroline when she found herself unmarried and pregnant with Mitchell? Her sister’s experience was incentive enough to stay away from men who avoided commitment. In fact, Allison found it easy. She’d never understood how Caroline could give into the lust without love—until now.
Obviously, Allison had the same faulty genes. At least she was aware of her weakness and could shore up her defenses. When she walked back inside, she’d have her protective firewall to keep Sloan out.
She found a spare gasket inside the drawer and returned to the generator with it and the other tools. Pulling off her gloves, she ignored the bitter cold and started working on the generator’s motor. It didn’t take long for her fingers to stiffen. Once the gasket was replaced, she filled the oil and pressed the motor to start the machine. A grinding screech reverberated in the small shed. It was what she feared, once the oil had leaked out, the crankshaft had seized. The generator was as useless now as the computer inside. It wouldn’t work again without major repairs. The best she could hope for was the power would return soon. Without power, she couldn’t continue programming. Without the trace, they couldn’t catch the hacker. If they didn’t catch the hacker…
She refused to travel down that road.
Allison pulled the gloves over her numb hands. Nothing more she could do here. She straightened and grimaced at the ache in her arm. Instead of ignoring the pain, she welcomed it. It reminded her of all the things she had lost in her past, and all the things she couldn’t afford to lose, like her heart. She refused to let Sloan find a crack to exploit.
****
Sloan paced in front of the fireplace. What in the hell was taking Allison so long?
He tried not to panic at the image of her buried in a snowbank. According to Mitch, she’d grown up in this house and knew the terrain like the back of her hand. For some reason, that didn’t ease Sloan’s worry. Regardless of what he’d told her earlier, he shouldn’t have let her go out alone.
“Hey, champ, I’m going to find out what’s taking your aunt so long. Will you be okay by yourself for a few minutes?”
Mitch looked up from his computer game. “Sure. But Aunt Allison will be back as soon as she fixes the generator.”
“Maybe she needs help.”
“Nah, she can fix anything. You could probably hold the flashlight for her, though.”
Sloan frowned. Mitch had no idea how his remark stung. Maybe Sloan didn’t have Allison’s skills, but he had other talents he refused to discuss with a nine-year-old boy. “I’ll be back.” He pushed his arm through the sleeve of his coat.
“Maybe I should go, too.” Mitch hopped off the couch.
Sloan had made Mitch go out in the blizzard once already; he didn’t want to be responsible for making the boy sick. “She’ll be cold when she comes in. Why don’t you stay here and keep an eye on the fire?”
“Good idea.” Mitch picked up his battery-operated game, sat on the couch, and resumed playing.
Sloan didn’t blame him for wanting to stay where it was warm. He wasn’t looking forward to going out either. He grabbed another flashlight Mitch found after Allison had left, and headed through the kitchen. The porch doorknob turned just as he reached for it.
Allison entered, bringing an icy gust inside with her. Snowflakes clung to the exposed ends of her hair. Her cheeks were red and pinched from the cold.
She really was the ice queen!
But she was alive and okay. Unexpected relief surged through him. “What took you so long?” The sensation took him by surprise, and his words came out more curtly than he intended. “Why isn’t there any power?” As he shone the light at her, her pupils narrowed.
“Get that thing out of my face! Where’s Mitchell?” She took off her coat and hung it on the hook beside the door.
Sloan switched off the light. “He’s in the other room, playing his game. What happened?” She was rigid. More aloof than usual. Something in her changed while she’d been outside.
She took a breath, and then blew on her hands. “I’m cold.”
He took off his coat and hung it next to hers. “Come in by the fire and warm up.” He led the way into the great room.
“Thanks for watching the fire, Mitch.” Sloan slid the screen away from the hearth and stirred the embers before adding another log.
Allison stepped near the fireplace, and Sloan moved aside to give her some space. He didn’t know a lot about architecture, but the fireplace seemed built for heating the house. Once he and Mitch had the fire going, the great room warmed up quickly. He wasn’t sure how warm the upstairs rooms were, but the ground floor was quite comfortable.
Mitch looked up from his game. “Hey, Aunt Allison. Where’s the power?”
She looked dazed, like her brain had frozen. Rubbing her palms against the sides of her arms, she turned her back to the fire. “The generator’s broken.”
“No way.” Mitch’s eyes grew wide. “How’d it break?”
She glanced at Sloan and then back at her nephew. If Sloan hadn’t known better, he’d say she looked embarrassed. A rarity.
“It looks like a gasket cracked.” She took a deep breath. “Probably from the cold. All the oil leaked out and the motor seized. It will have to be torn down for repairs.”
“You can fix it, right?” Mitch slid to the edge of the couch.
She shook her head. “I can’t, at least not here. At the garage, with the right tools, maybe.” She crossed to the couch and sat next to her nephew, drawing him close to her as though she needed the contact as much as the warmth.
To Sloan, she looked lost. Worse th
an that, she appeared to blame herself. It wasn’t her fault. Her expression was direct and open when she spoke to him. “I’m sorry. We won’t have any power until the utility crews can get it on again.”
Sloan understood her sullen mood. “Without electricity, you can’t work on the program.”
“No.” She shook her head.
“What about that power battery thing?”
“It isn’t a long-term power source. Most are designed to last long enough to save the work before turning off the systems. I don’t know how old it is and don’t want to take a chance that it will fail in the middle of my work.”
He swore under his breath. More delays. “I’ll call O’Neal to let him know we’ll need more time.” He pulled out his cell phone. After punching the speed dial button to Northstar, he put the phone to his ear. He heard a tone, then nothing.
“My phone still isn’t working.”
“It’s probably interference from the storm.” She picked up a flashlight from the end table and clicked it on. “Power outages don’t affect landlines.” She walked into the kitchen.
Sloan followed.
The beam locked on the phone hanging on the wall. He picked it up and listened. “It’s dead.”
With a concerned look, Allison traded Sloan the flashlight for the receiver and put it to her ear. She jiggled the disconnect button and listened again. Her shoulders stiffened and the tension he’d sensed earlier seemed to increase.
“What now?” he asked as she hung up the phone.
“We wait.”
“What about driving back to town? The local police will have a generator and power. We could call from there.”
She spun around to face him. “We promised the highway patrol we’d stay put. Besides, you’ve been out there.” She pointed toward the dark windows. “It’d be suicide to even try. I’m not risking anyone’s life until the plows clear the roads.”
“What about a snowmobile?”
“You don’t give up, do you?” She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Yes, my brother-in-law has a snowmobile—which is currently at the garage, torn down to the frame to put in a new engine. I promised to have it finished by the time they returned from the cruise.”
“Then we’re really stranded.” The truth of their situation started to sink in.
“Until the storm stops and the plows get through.”
Sloan had never experienced the feeling of being totally cut off from everything. Sure, he’d been on camping trips—during the summertime—in state parks only a couple of hours from the city. With running water available. Did they still have running water? What about food?
“How prepared are you for this?” He began doing a mental rundown on what it took to make it through the night.
“What do you mean?” She tilted her head. “I’m not prepared at all. I saved the file on the desktop. Neither my tablet, nor my laptop, have the programs I need to continue working on the trace. I’m stuck until the power comes back on.”
Allison’s mind was fixed on catching the hacker.
He was focused on survival.
“Screw the job.” His voice raised a notch. “I’m talking about this.” He waved the flashlight around the dark kitchen. “We could die out here in the middle of nowhere.”
Chapter Seven
Allison wanted to laugh aloud. Sloan Cartland, the playboy from the District, stood in her kitchen with a panicked look on his face. It was the first thing since the power went out, that had any real humor.
She wanted to enjoy his discomfort—take advantage of it. If Mitchell wasn’t in the next room, she might have done just that. Sloan was smart enough to know she wouldn’t let anything happen to her nephew. However, for just a moment…
“Are you really asking if we can survive without power?”
“Can we?”
“Well…I’m not sure. If we run out of wood to burn and food to eat…” She shrugged. “Our bodies might not be found until spring.”
He swung the flashlight beam directly into her eyes, preventing her from seeing the look on his face, but his deep chuckle put her stomach in a slow roll.
“Okay, that was a bit dramatic.” She could tell he was smiling now. “We’d have enough wood to heat the house if we don’t have to thaw you out, too. But I was serious when I asked if you were prepared.”
Allison grew up in this house. Caroline and Ed had remodeled with a lot of upgrades, including better insulation. They’d be fine.
She sighed, pushed the light out of her face, and gave in to his need for assurance. “The fireplace is designed to heat the entire house, but it will be warmest in the main room. The refrigerated food can be moved to the back porch in a cooler, or outside for that matter. The frozen food should be okay until morning. If the power’s not back on by then, we can move it into the snow, too.”
“What about water?”
“We’ll have cold water unless the pipes freeze. Actually, the biggest problem would be broken pipes. We can avoid that by keeping a trickle running through the faucets.”
“So you’re telling me we should be fine?” His question still indicated a hint of uncertainty.
“If we don’t kill each other first.”
“Very funny.”
“Look, Sloan, I don’t know what you want to hear. A power outage isn’t a crisis, at least not yet. The real emergency is not being able to work on that trace program. Every minute counts. The longer we wait, the more damage the hacker can do. For the time being, we just need something to occupy our time.”
“I can think of a few things we could do to keep busy.” The uncertainty in his voice was gone, and now it dropped to a low seductive timbre.
The comment brought that kiss front and center, along with the reminder to make sure he didn’t breach her personal firewall. “Not happening.”
An eyebrow rose at her warning as though he wanted to take up the challenge. Instead, he switched off the flashlight and darkness settled over the kitchen. The warm glow from the fireplace beckoned. “At least Mitch doesn’t seem to mind.” His observation reminded her they had her nephew to chaperone them through the night.
“Until the batteries on his tablet die.”
“True.” He chuckled again. The sound slid down her spine with a heat that rivaled the burning logs in the fireplace. His shoulders relaxed and he seemed to accept the situation faster than she expected.
In fact, he’d taken in stride almost everything that had happened so far. Maybe he wasn’t quite the spoiled, rich boy she thought he was after all. She put that thought aside. Finding redeeming qualities about Sloan wasn’t helping neutralize her attraction, especially when he stood in her kitchen as though he belonged here.
They walked into the great room. The fire crackled warmly, giving a cozy feel to the whole stranded-in-a-blizzard thing. She’d forgotten how safe she always felt when she was home. Although she’d lived back east for almost a year, her apartment near the District hadn’t yet found a place in her heart.
Allison and Sloan sat on the couch with Mitchell settled comfortably between them playing his Warrior Code game. Staring into the firelight felt a bit too intimate. She was almost relieved when Mitchell broke the silence.
“Damn.”
She stared at her nephew. “What did you just say?”
“I mean, darn.” Mitchell rephrased his expletive.
Sloan chuckled. “What happened?” He looked over at the miniature screen.
“I don’t know the next code word to get past the Guardian.”
“You’re supposed to get your clues along the way.” Allison had developed the game for Mitchell’s Christmas gift. She hoped the action would keep a nine-year-old engaged, but this game was also balanced with enough cerebral challenges to stimulate the mind. Mitchell was her beta tester. If all went well, she’d promote the game at this summer’s gaming convention.
“Well, it’s been a little distracting around here tonight, ya know.” His voice he
ld a combination of excuses and accusations.
“Maybe it’s time to put it away.” Sloan offered the hesitant suggestion. “Don’t kids spend too much time on those things anyway?”
“How do you know?” Mitchell glanced up at Sloan with a curious expression. “Do you have kids?”
“Uh, no.” Sloan’s gaze slid sideways as if embarrassed by the question.
At least none that you know of. Allison had heard the rampant office gossip about his conquests.
She came to her nephew’s rescue, if for no other reason than to keep her edge against Sloan. “I designed this game specifically for Mitchell, and kids his age. It requires more finesse than many of the others on the market today.”
“When I was a kid, you couldn’t carry around a video arcade in your backpack.”
“Really?” Mitchell looked as if he didn’t believe such a statement. “How did you play games?”
“We had units that connected to the TV, but I liked the bigger games at the corner hangout. When I was your age, I mostly played soccer.”
Allison smothered a grin. Somehow, she could see Sloan as the type who’d been chauffeured around by a soccer mom.
“No snide remarks over there.” He glanced at her, as though he’d read her thoughts. “I have a good friend who happens to play for the World Soccer League. We played for the same varsity team.”
“I’m impressed.”
Mitchell set the tablet in his lap. “I play baseball in the spring, but the season’s really short here. Dad says the best players come from the south because they can play almost year-round.”
Allison knew Mitchell loved baseball, but his true passions were solitary activities like hiking, fishing, and his computer games, of course. He was smaller than most of the kids in his class, and his red hair was the target of hurtful teasing, so he tended to keep to himself more often than not. She directed his attention back to the game. “What code words have you used already?”
Breaking the Honor Code Page 8