He watched her, still frowning. “Everyone has at least one relationship go wrong. That doesn’t mean you quit for life.”
“No, I know. I guess it depends on how horrible the relationship really was.” She knew her one holiday fling wasn’t the thing that had really put her off—it was just the last straw.
“Or what else you’ve been through,” he added.
She shot him a look. He was way too perceptive. Emma forced a laugh, a light, high peal of almost real amusement. Because although he was right, she wasn’t going there…with him.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, surprised.
“I just realized we’re doing it.”
He looked confused. “Doing what?”
“Sharing too much too soon, like they all do down here. We’re doing that.” Or rather she was. And she’d shared more than enough already.
He sent her a sideways look. “I’m happy to go back to flirt talk if you like.”
She did like—far too much. But it needed to stop when she had a project to do. “No, we both have work.”
He sighed. “I keep trying to point this out to you, but you’re still not getting it… There’s more to life than work.”
She merely smiled. He didn’t have to prove what she had to prove.
“You know how hard these guys work,” he said. “Six days when in the base, nonstop when in a field camp. Long, long hours. If they don’t kick back and relax sometime, they go crazy.”
“Yes, but I’m here only a couple of weeks.” And this was the first time she was getting to do what she loved most as her job.
“All the more reason to have some R&R time—it might be your only trip down here. You have to make the most of it.”
“We need to get back to the shelter.” She began to stomp away. “My feet have turned into blocks of ice.”
“No kidding,” he called after her.
…
Late the following afternoon, Hunter walked into the lounge. They’d gotten back from the overnight camp just before lunch, and he’d been in meetings ever since. He’d lived in small, shared spaces since he hit boarding school at age six, so he knew how to maintain isolation and privacy despite being around people 24/7. But tonight he felt like getting up close to one of his fellow residents. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much that she had a good time while down here. Maybe it was the serious look in her eyes or her aura of isolation—maybe it was just that like recognized like.
He picked up the e-reader that had been left on the edge of one of the bookcases and grinned at the fake-zebra-skin cover. You could tell a lot about a person by their reading taste, right? Well, you could learn something. He flicked on the button and read the page. Hell.
A bolt of heat speared his stomach.
Heeeellll.
He flicked it off again. He didn’t need that making his situation worse. He’d discovered firsthand how hot she was beneath that pretty, ice-polite exterior, but adding this to the mix?
There was no way they could continue flirting the way they had been. No, he was going to have to put some boundaries in place for himself. They could manage a nice, friendly, no-rampant-sexual-undertones relationship. He didn’t want to be thinking about her all the time, anyway. And he definitely didn’t want to be thinking about doing that with her all the time.
This was supposed to be his vacation—he didn’t want any emotional entanglements, and she clearly wasn’t the kind of woman who could do casual and light. He went straight to the bunkroom he knew was hers and knocked on the door.
But as she opened the door, he couldn’t help himself. He deliberately stepped into the space so only an inch separated their faces, a scant few more separating their chests. He couldn’t resist a look at those full lips—now parted in surprise.
Her breathing quickened, the short pants slightly audible. The temperature zoomed. Temptation winched his body tighter. He dragged his gaze up to the green pools that were her eyes—and saw a desire swirling that equaled his. Damn. He struggled to remember he was here to let her know he was going to leave her alone.
“I think you left this in the lounge,” he whispered roughly and held it out.
…
“Oh,” Emma mumbled. “Thanks.” As she took the e-reader from him, she saw a look in his eye that hadn’t been there before. Yes, they’d indulged in all that crazy flirt talk and that overwhelming kiss. But now? There was something even more intense in his gaze. Like the eagle really had narrowed in on its prey.
He nodded. “Actually, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Wariness prickled along Emma’s spine. “There’s a problem?”
“Not a problem as such…” Hunter rubbed his jaw and turned to face the corridor. “You’ve been working on your wall?”
“Yeah.” She’d been through to the new research lab and set up her case. The supplies she’d brought down had been put there from the hold, and she’d organized them in preparation for tomorrow.
“You’re the artist who’s been commissioned to paint the mural in the new lab, right?”
“Yes,” she admitted, biting her lip. “It’s a huge honor to have been awarded the job. I hope my work lives up to it.”
“I’m sure it will,” he said. “But you need to know that while you’re here I’m working on the same building. I’m in charge of completing the lab construction.”
“You’re…in charge?” Her heart wouldn’t stop beating the tango. They were going to be working in the same space? This wasn’t good news. “You’re a builder back home?” Wherever his home was. That question—and twenty more—burned on the tip of her tongue.
“I guess I’m a bit like the others,” he answered after a moment. “I’ll do anything to have some time down here.”
“Because you love Antarctica or because you’re avoiding that family Christmas?”
“Both.”
She laughed and just as quickly completely sobered. “Look, if we’re working near each other for the next week, then we have to—”
“Stop the smut talk.”
“That’s right.” She nodded, her heart still slamming into her chest.
“We can be friends, though?”
He was going with the friends let-her-down-gently routine? Her heart stopped its dance altogether. Friends might be tricky, given the direction her thoughts took every time she got a glimpse of him. But she wasn’t an animal, was she? She had a choice. And she’d already chosen to say no to him. “Of course.”
“Great.”
He strode away, and Emma slowly closed the door. She walked back to her bunk, tossing the e-reader on the mattress. So he’d given up on the chase and fun flirting. This was good, right?
Then why did she feel colder than the frost forming on her window?
…
Early, early, way too early the next morning, Emma was up and in her overalls, ready to get started with her mural. She’d drawn a mock-up of the kind of work she’d put in the lab for her proposal, and now she had to put it into scale. Although she knew what she wanted, she was still daunted at the sheer size of the project.
She walked into the new building. It had a double-door system, a small vestibule where her mural was going, and then the main laboratory was through another set of doors. Those doors were open now, and she heard voices coming from the room within.
“She’s definitely an Antarctic Ten.” She didn’t recognize the speaker, but she did recognize one of those suddenly laughing.
“What’s an Antarctic Ten?” she asked as she walked into the room.
There were four guys in a group looking out the window toward the main building. Giving a quick glance out, Emma saw the back view of a woman walking into the mess. The men had all turned toward her, their faces reflecting the same guilty expression.
Hunter stood with three other men—two with tool belts and one clearly from cargo, given he had a delivery box at his feet.
“Um…” Tool Belt One seemed lost for
words.
“It’s a rating system,” Tool Belt Two admitted.
“For women?” Emma walked farther into the room, pulling her pencil from her pocket. “How classy.”
They had the grace to look sheepish—except for Hunter, who was grinning broadly.
“Define an Antarctic Ten for me.” Emma brandished her super-sharp pencil and eyeballed him.
Hunter’s gaze dropped to the pencil and back up to her. “It’s a new term to me, so I’m not really sure.”
Yeah, right. The guy had already clued her in to some other ice slang. He knew what this was.
“Antarctic Ten would be like…about a five back home,” Tool Belt One muttered.
“Charming.” Emma rolled her eyes.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Cargo Boy chipped in. “You’re off the scale.”
Hunter’s dimple resurfaced; the guy was killing himself with laughter.
“Oh yeah, you’ve got four yesses,” Tool Belt Two said with TV talent-show enthusiasm—and then howled with laughter.
Emma snorted. “You think that’s going to make it better?”
“Except, what’s with that thing on your head?” Hunter asked. “It looks like a nun’s wimple.”
“It’s hard getting paint out of your hair. The less I get in, the easier it is for me at the end of the day.” Emma was quite happy with the way her hair was tucked out of the way in her cute hat—wimple indeed. She turned her back on his teasing smile and the way his gaze raked down her body. They might have agreed to no smut talk, but that didn’t stop either her body or brain reacting like he was some kind of sensual ignition.
“So, you’re a full-time artist?” Tool Belt One introduced himself as Alex, and he followed Hunter out to look at her equipment and plans spread on the table.
“No.” She laughed. “As nice as that would be, painting doodles or murals doesn’t pay the bills. I’m a receptionist at one of the hotels out by the airport.”
“So how’d you land this gig?”
“I was incredibly lucky,” she answered with her pencil between her teeth as she started taping up her surface. Damn lucky. And damn determined to prove she deserved the ticket.
“No, you’re obviously talented.” Hunter looked up from her design plans. “Where did you train?”
Emma paused. “I didn’t. I’m self-taught.”
“Really?”
“Yep.” She’d spent more hours than she could remember sitting in the local library sketching. She’d read every art book in the collection. It had always been her escape. “So I need to prove myself more than anyone, I guess.”
Later, Hunter sat next to her in the mess at lunch. She figured they looked a right collection in their paint-splattered gear. She stretched the kink from her back as she reached for her mug of coffee.
“You’re stiff?” he asked.
“I’m okay.” She blushed at the concern in his expression.
“You should visit the sauna tonight.”
Not when he’d already warned her that he knew which were the lockable ones.
“Don’t worry.” He laughed at her expression. “I wasn’t going to invite myself along.”
Now there was a fantasy—and she was troubled enough with them already. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen a guy swing a hammer before, but seeing Hunter Wilson use his muscles and get sweaty? That was something else entirely.
It had to be the fumes getting to her. Or the freezing cold had her body reacting in a weird and opposite way.
The afternoon sped by in a haze of fine detail on her vast mural. But after her sauna and shower combo, Emma hurried to the phone in the main building’s lounge to dial for the zillionth time. She really needed to know Grandma Bea was okay.
“What’s wrong?” Hunter asked when Emma appeared.
“I can’t get through to my grandma Bea,” she answered quietly. “She’s not answering her phone.”
“Is that unusual?” His brows furrowed with concern when she nodded. “I’m sure it’ll be okay.”
“Come on, get your outdoor gear on,” he said to her after she’d tried yet again.
“Why?”
“Just trust me,” he encouraged.
Twenty minutes later, they climbed onto the four-wheeler he’d managed to commandeer. Emma strapped on to the pillion seat at the back and was glad Pam had insisted she need so many gloves.
“Sorry I couldn’t get a Hägglund, but this will do.” He fired the engine of the snow-bike. From the safety training, Emma knew he was licensed to drive all the vehicles here. She also knew where they were going. She’d watched him write it in the sign-out book where she’d had to sign out, too.
She breathed in the vicious cold and held on tightly to him for life—not that there was anything intimate, what with all the layers between them. Yeah, this was the harshest, most hostile environment on the planet. Left out in this air without proper protection, you’d be dead in a matter of hours. But there was a certain security knowing you were part of a team, all looking out for one another—making sure the gear was working and clean and fit for purpose, making sure everyone was accounted for. That security was new to her. She liked it—already she knew she’d miss it. Her heart dropped a shade lower than where it ought to be. Why couldn’t there be backup like that in the real world?
The American base was huge—so big there were roads instead of paths and what looked like a million buildings. But Hunter seemed to know exactly where he was going.
“Try calling again from here.”
He’d led her to a telecoms and computer suite.
“Really?”
“Yeah, and if you can’t get through directly, why not get a friend to call her?”
Because she didn’t have many friends to call on. But maybe she could get one of her workmates at the hotel to check? Why hadn’t she thought of that sooner? She’d been in panic mode. She grinned at him. “Thanks.”
“I’m signing on a computer for a moment.” He nodded to the screens in the other room.
“Okay.”
But she couldn’t get through to her colleague, either. She guessed everyone was out at Christmas functions. She walked back into the computer room, sat at the terminal next to his, and studied the icons on the screen.
“You can Skype here?” There were data limits at the other base, which meant calls over the net weren’t possible.
“Sure.” Hunter leaned closer to his screen. “If there’s enough bandwidth, which at the moment there seems to be.”
A quick glance showed Emma he was reading some long, technical-looking document. She focused on her computer again and logged in to all her accounts—she’d e-mail another colleague and get her to check on Grandma Bea. She was halfway through the note when her computer started beeping. Someone was calling her Skype account. She didn’t recognize the ID—but she soon recognized the face on the screen.
“How come you’re on Skype?” Emma nearly fell off her chair. “You have a computer?!”
“Young Ashe from down the road got it set up for me.” Grandma Bea might as well be in the same room; her voice came through so clearly.
“Ashe?” She remembered him—about seventeen, dressed completely in black, hiding behind too-long bangs of hair, and with a sullen attitude to match.
“Shouldn’t he be at school?” Emma’s alert button went off.
“It’s the holidays.”
Even so. “He’s not downloading lots of stuff, is he?” Nothing like porn or malware or whatever.
“Only the programs to get this going. He’s done a wonderful job.”
“Make sure he doesn’t download anything he shouldn’t.” Although how Grandma Bea would know that, Emma wasn’t sure.
“You wouldn’t do anything dangerous would you, Ashe?”
Embarrassment crept over Emma as she saw the black-clad, spiderlike figure step out from the corner of the room. Great. The punk must have overheard her every bad-implication word.
“You should
see how fast he works the keyboard. It’s a marvel. And he’s very patient in explaining it all to me.” Bea grinned.
“Hi, Ashe.” Emma tried to look both friendly and watchful. He better not think he could scam an old lady.
“He’d be the perfect young man for you to go steady with. I’ll introduce you properly when you get back.”
Emma choked back the yelp of indignation.
Ashe’s face remained completely impassive. It must annoy the hell out of his teachers at school.
“That’s okay. Thanks, Bea.” Emma was too young to be a cradle snatcher. Ashe wasn’t even legal!
There was a sound of muffled amusement beside her.
“Oh, you’ve found a steady already?” Grandma Bea leaned so close to the screen you could see the pit marks in the fifty-year-old pearl necklace she always wore.
Emma winced, glanced beside her, and winced some more. “What are you doing sitting there listening in?” She didn’t even try for a stage whisper.
“I’m sorry… Thought you’d finished.” Hunter wheeled his swivel chair right next to hers.
As if she’d finished? She’d only been online two minutes.
Bea was now leaning so close to the screen you could see the hand-carved bits of her dentures. “Who are you?”
“Don’t answer that,” Emma mumbled.
“Hunter.” He smiled like he was a preppy heartthrob out to impress the elders. “Pleased to meet you.”
Grandma Bea looked pleased, too, as she sat back and gave him as much of an up-and-down look as she could. “Are you taking care of my Emma down there?”
“I’m trying my best, ma’am.”
Emma banged the side of her knee against his. Hard.
“Are you a scientist or something?”
“No, I’m a volunteer.”
“Oh.” Bea looked disappointed. “Not in the army?”
“I work with the army sometimes, but I’m a private contractor,” he explained. “I’m used to working in dangerous territories.”
And in less than ten seconds Emma knew more about him than she’d managed to find out in the last four days.
“You want me to keep an eye on Emma for you?” he positively drawled. He was in very dangerous territory now.
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