by Juniper Bell
“No more distracting me. Who was out there? Who heard me? And untie me, if you don’t mind.”
“Hell if I know. I was too busy watching you.” He tugged her sweater down over her chest and uncovered her face. Only to feel the punch of those astonishing indigo eyes that had snared him at first glance. Her left eye was slightly more almond-shaped than the right one, which created a fascinating imbalance. At the moment they were still misty with pleasure. He watched as her usual sparkle reappeared.
“Damn you, Lars Nordegren. Let me loose.”
He reached behind her to untie the scarf. Her long hair tickled his hands like goose down. Everything about Katia whispered sensuality. Her body was made for loving. Her stamina for sex astounded him. And her passion for him seemed real.
But there must be a part of her, deep inside, that he still hadn’t touched. The part that wouldn’t let her say yes to their future.
He released her hands. “Seems to me you liked my hands on you. And in you. And up your…”
“Okay, okay. I get it. I’m your sexual puppy dog. Might as well walk me around on a leash.” She pulled up her snowpants, which to Lars was like covering up the sun. If he had his way, she’d walk around naked all day. She had no idea how much pure pleasure he got from the sight of her.
“Someday, after we’re married, I’ll consider it.”
And there it was. That almost invisible twitch of her eyelids whenever he mentioned his proposal. That instant withdrawal into wariness. Fuck. Had it been a mistake to bring up marriage? Had he scared her off? How could she not want to get married? Didn’t she want a mate? A partner? Didn’t she want him? She’d already left her wandering lifestyle to be with him in Alaska. Shouldn’t she want some kind of security, the kind offered by a marriage certificate and a man vowing to bind himself to her for life?
She turned her face away from him and concentrated on snapping her snowpants. “Wild Nights. Talk.”
“A lot of crazy stuff goes down during Wild Nights. Crazier than you coming all over my hand while screaming my name.”
He turned on the truck’s defroster. Despite his teasing while Katia was blindfolded, he’d allowed the windows to ice up enough so no one could see in. During the time they’d been cozied up in the truck, half an inch of snow had gathered on the windshield.
Katia ran a finger across the ice-glazed passenger window. “So no one saw us after all?”
Was that disappointment he heard in her voice? Katia was a wild thing at heart. He loved that about her, but it didn’t make things easy. Winning Katia was turning out to be much harder than competing in the Olympics.
“Nope. Just me. And I can’t tell anyone because it’s Wild Nights. It’s against the rules.”
“Rules?”
“No one ever talks about anything that happens during Wild Nights. Ever. No one ever has. No one ever will. That’s the rule. That’s what Wild Nights is all about.”
Katia stared at him in purple-eyed fascination. “No telling?”
“That’s right. For this one weekend, anyone within the town limits can do anything they want, as long as no laws are broken and no one gets hurt, and no one will ever say a word about it. Basically, it never happened.”
“That’s nuts.”
“That’s Wild.”
“You have a point there,” she mused, running her hands through her long hair. She’d explained her long hair as one of her leftover traveling habits—she never had to worry about cutting it. “Does that actually work? People don’t ever tell?” She batted her eyelashes at him. “I want some dirt.”
“Not going to happen.”
“I’ll go down on you in the laundry room to make you talk. It’ll be nostalgic.”
“You can go down on every guy in town, and you’ll never get a peep.”
Her eyes flared at that image. His Katia was such a sensual free spirit. It constantly amazed him that she hadn’t left yet, that she still chose to be here with him. But would she marry him and stay forever?
“No one ever talks about anything that happened between the opening ceremony and the official closing of Wild Nights.” He flipped on the wipers and watched them brush most of the snow off the windshield.
He pulled out into the empty street and headed for home. Katia’s eyes were still on him. “Why are they so serious about it? What’s the big deal?”
“Because, my love, everyone has a story they’d rather forget. One person tells, it’s like a domino effect. And if this town didn’t have Wild Nights, we’d all go insane by springtime. We have to let off some steam.”
“Huh.”
She still didn’t get it. That was okay. By the time the weekend was over, she would. He’d make sure of it.
* * * * *
The Nordegren homestead was a few miles outside town, at the end of a long, occasionally impassable dirt road. In the winter, the road often got so icy it could double as a luge course. In the spring, it turned into a mile-long mud bath. But if you survived the drive, you were in for a treat.
Lars’ grandfather, who’d settled here while Alaska was still a territory, knew a good thing when he saw it. The Nordegren property stretched over hundreds of acres of prime oceanfront bluffs, pristine spruce forests and rolling cattle pastures. The pastures had been cleared with grit, hard labor and the help of Olaf Nordegren’s eight children.
Those eight children had grown up and demanded a share in the property they’d worked so hard on. So Olaf had deeded portions of it to each of his kids, who had built their own cabins or homesteads, depending on their work ethic. From the comfort of their own homes, they were able to squabble with each other to their hearts’ content. The Nordegren family was famous for its feuds.
The original homestead had remained Olaf’s home until his death a year ago. To everyone’s shock, he’d willed it to Lars, his favorite grandson. Olaf Nordegren never had any problem playing favorites. Lars had been honored—and filled with dread. But his days of competing were numbered anyway, so he’d finished out the season and headed back home, with a surprise, indigo-eyed companion in tow.
Lars turned onto the Nordegren road. As usual, Katia scanned the woods with a childlike eagerness to spot a moose. Was it his wishful thinking, or had she really taken to life in Alaska?
“I bet you’ve never done anything crazy during Wild Nights,” she said.
“Why do you say that?” He glanced over at her briefly. Winter driving required complete attention.
“Because Wild’s most famous citizen can’t get away with anything, even during Wild Nights.”
Lars grunted noncommittally. Would she be shocked if he told her some of the things he’d done? She’d probably be fascinated, knowing her. Katia loved sexual adventures, hearing about them, reading about them, experiencing them. But the Wild Nights rule could not be broken. Silently, he focused on the road.
Luckily, the snow flurry hadn’t made it this far out of town. He’d just plowed the other day and hoped he’d get a few days’ rest before he had to do it again. Maintaining an Alaska homestead and farm was a shitload of hard work. As soon as he’d come back to Wild, he’d figured out why Olaf had left it to him. He was the only family member who could afford it.
The presence of Katia made life here a pleasure. Without Katia… He didn’t want to think about that.
The homestead came into view, a two-story structure made entirely of peeled logs. Olaf had added haphazardly over the years—an arctic entry, a wide deck, a loft, a kitchen. Nothing in the place was built to any kind of code. But it had historical value. Out of pure spite, one of his cousins had contacted the Wild Historical Preservation Society. Now it would be even harder to sell, since nothing could be changed.
They were stuck with the wood stove, iron-heavy well water and the sound of wind whistling through the occasional gap in the logs.
Lars looked sidelong at Katia as they approached the homestead. Did she think of it as home yet? Did she appreciate the beauty of its setting
? Dark spruce trees, their branches sparkling with snow, gathered around the house like silent party guests. From the deck, you could see Wild Bay’s constant spectacle of clouds and mist and light. Winter light was particularly beautiful with its pinks and lavenders and apricots. To Lars, winter turned the land into a quiet enchanted fairy kingdom, except when the winds blew. Then you held on tight and hoped the power didn’t go out. Which it frequently did.
“Footprints,” said Katia, pointing to marks in the snow. “Is someone here?”
“Looks like a moose.” Lars knew it was a yearling. He also spotted the tracks of a snowshoe hare. Growing up, he’d spent every waking moment outside in the woods, skiing and tracking and shooting. He knew all the creatures that lived in these woods. He loved the place with a physical intensity, as if it were part of his cellular makeup.
“Gee, and I thought maybe it was the Avon lady,” said Katia. “I’m low on moisturizer.”
Laughing, he parked the truck. Katia zipped up her parka and braved the cold with her usual flair, skipping through the snow with long-legged jumps. On the deck, she knocked the snow off her boots and whirled past a jumble of skis and snowshoes and boots and into the house.
With her long chocolatey hair flowing over her bright-red parka, she looked like a snow gypsy. She brought light and fun and spirit into the place. He didn’t want to imagine it without her.
Lars shoved aside his worry. He’d wear her down. Lars Nordegren never gave up.
Inside the house, he found Katia stoking the wood stove. She gingerly opened the cast-iron door and maneuvered a split log onto the flames. The look of triumph on her pixie face when she closed up the stove gave him a quick rush.
“Did you see that? I didn’t burn a single part of my body.”
“Nicely done. But you might want to open the damper. Warm it up in here.”
Her face fell. “I knew I’d forgotten something.” She carefully opened the damper, then brushed off her hands and stood up. “But I’m learning, right?”
“You’re doing great.” Teaching Katia how to do basic things he’d been doing since birth was a trip. “You learn fast.”
“Yeah, but I’d still die fast if I had to live out here alone. I’d never survive.” She unwound her long, silver-spangled black scarf with an adorable frown.
“But you’re with me,” he pointed out gently. He lowered himself onto the long couch that faced the wood stove. Katia sat on the other end of the couch, swung her feet up to snuggle against his and pulled a plaid wool blanket over the two of them. He felt her cold toes wiggle against his. “Is that why?” he asked.
“Why what?”
“Why you haven’t said yes yet? Is it because I live here? Because I don’t know if I can leave?”
Her cold-reddened cheeks lost some of their color. “No, that’s not why. I can handle Alaska. I like it here.”
He squinted at her. “You sure about that? Because Katia, you’re more important to me than Wild. If you can’t live here, we’ll leave. I’ll figure out a way.” Even saying those words took a little piece of his soul. But they were true. Katia had slouched into his life and brightened it into a vibrant kaleidoscope of color. How could he go back?
Katia’s indigo eyes widened. “You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do.” He held her look. He needed her to know how serious he was. “I’m not saying I want to leave. But I want you more.”
She twisted a strand of her hair with anxious fingers. Katia had quite a few nervous tics. She’d told him that as a child, she’d scratched at her scalp until she’d created a bald spot. She chewed on the inside of her mouth. She drummed her fingers on the table, or any other available surface. Only during sex did she completely relax.
She shifted under his steady look. Outside the picture window, a gust of wind blew a shower of snow from a spruce branch. The afternoon sun turned it into glittering confetti. He saw his own appreciation of the moment reflected on her face.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yes. And Lars, I could never make you leave here.”
He caressed her feet under the blanket and got up to check the beans he was soaking for the chili that night. As he drained the beans, he thought about what Katia had said. Did she mean she would leave him so he wouldn’t have to leave Wild? Or did she mean that she would stay if he wanted to?
“Why me, Lars?” Glancing over his shoulder, he saw she’d drawn the blanket around herself so she looked like a wide-eyed bird in a nest. “You could choose any girl in Wild, or any girl anywhere, as a matter of fact. Why pick a slacker like me who can barely lift an axe?”
“You happen to be the one I’m in love with.”
“Oh Lars.”
The wistful tone of her voice threw him for a loop. Wasn’t she in love with him too? Hadn’t they been glued at the hip ever since they met? Hadn’t it been instant destiny since the time he’d spied a gorgeous purple-eyed girl in a laundromat looking him up and down in a lazy, thoroughly arousing way?
Their first conversation had been so invigorating, like a shot of eighty-proof aquavit after a competition. Neither had been the least bit surprised to find themselves holed up in the Holiday Inn where he was staying for the North American Cup. They’d fucked all night, feeding off their animal attraction. He couldn’t get enough of her.
But he’d thought he’d never see her again.
When he’d gotten back from the next day’s competition, he’d experienced a shock of gut-level delight at the sight of her lounging on his bed surrounded by peanut crumbs. Maybe that was when he’d fallen so thoroughly, irrevocably in love with her.
“How’d you do?” she’d asked, as if her presence were nothing out of the ordinary.
“Third in the individuals.”
“Right on!” She’d jumped up to give him a high-five, which turned into another hot and all-consuming all-nighter.
He’d won the sprints the following day. As a reward to himself, he’d invited Katia to accompany him to the next NorAm event. And the next. When they ran out of competitions, he invited her to come back to Wild with him.
“Alaska?”
“Alaska.”
“For how long?”
“We’ll take it day by day, how’s that?” By then, he’d known long-term commitment to anything, occupational or human, was not Katia’s way. But that didn’t stop him from wanting her by his side. Maybe that was why marriage was so important to him—so she wouldn’t flit away. It had taken him a long time to find the right woman, and the hell if he’d let her wander off without a fight.
But his Katia was nothing if not stubborn. Good thing he was even more so. Besides, he was pretty sure he knew the key to his wild Katia’s heart.
Chapter Four
While the chili cooked, Lars lured Katia outside for a pre-potluck sunset ski.
Long fingers of pink mist drifted across the bay. The faraway glaciers glinted with the ethereal light of alpenglow. They skied through the silent forest, catching quick glimpses of the magnificent panorama through the trees.
Lars divided his attention between the scenery and Katia. She was a decent skier but not in his league, of course. She slid along the trail at a steady pace, occasionally lifting her face to the pale sunlight. She looked like a long, slim, slouching fairy queen loping through the woods. Just so he could admire the sight of her from behind, he fell back and let her take the lead. The way her hips moved back and forth with each stride hypnotized him. He had a sudden vision of her bare ass, so pale and silky, with a sweet dimple in each cheek. His cock hardened.
What if he took her against a tree under a shower of snow crystals? Or he could snuggle her down in a snow bank and bury himself in her heat. He could stretch her out on a fallen log. When he was with Katia, his imagination went wild.
In his lust-saturated distraction, he didn’t notice that she’d stopped and was waving her ski pole in the air.
“Halloo!” she called.
Someone was
cruising through the woods on a snow machine. How had he missed that annoying drone? Lars felt a moment of bitter frustration. So much for ravaging Katia like a beast in the forest. When he saw the driver of the snow machine, he got even grumpier. Jimmy Thorpe had never once, in his entire twenty-something years of horniness, kept his hands to himself in the presence of a pretty woman.
And he wasn’t, apparently, about to start now. He drove over to Katia and leaned off the machine to pull her into a hug. Lars saw exactly where his hands went. One settled on Katia’s slim waist, the other stole lower, lower…
“Jimmy,” he called, skiing up to them. “How you been?”
“Been good, been good. Better now.” The cocky kid winked at Katia. “Everything’s better during Wild Nights.”
Lars tensed. Jimmy’s hands weren’t leaving Katia’s body. And Katia took her time pulling away.
“What are you doing out here all alone? You ought to be over at Whiskey Gulch by now.” The drinking started early during Wild Nights, and the younger crowd usually headed for Whiskey Gulch.
“I’m going. That’s my next stop. I thought Katia here might want to come with me. Get her out of the house for a while.”
The snowy woods turned red as Lars felt fury rise. So he wanted to take his girl to a bar. What made Jimmy Thorpe think that a sensual goddess like Katia would ever look twice at a goofball like him?
But when Lars turned his outraged glance on Katia, he saw she was looking twice. More than twice, in fact. She was laughing along with the kid, her long hair swinging against her cheek like an inky brushmark. Lars looked again at Jimmy, whom he’d known since he was a toddler. Young and hard-bodied, with mischievous blue eyes and blond hair with dark tips, he looked like a young stud on the make.
Sure, Wild Nights was on, but he wanted to be the one to introduce Katia to the concept.
“You really came all the way out here for me?” Katia tossed Jimmy a teasing look. “What if we’d already left?”
“Then I’d have chased you all over town until I found you.”
Oooh, nice line, thought Lars. For a stalker. “As a matter of fact, we’re on our way to a party. Sorry but we’ll have to pass.”