Northern Rebel: Daring in the Dark

by Jennifer Labrecque

  Carrying Delphi’s luggage—he hadn’t taken no for an answer—he continued up the stairs until they turned right and traversed the short hallway.

  “Here ya go, Lars.” Merrilee opened the door and he walked in. Merrilee lowered her voice. “I thought you’d rest easier if you knew that we put your mother at the new bed-and-breakfast at the other end of town. We figured it might work out better that way and Alyce could use the business.”

  “Good call.” He put down one of Delphi’s suitcases and slid his duffel bag off his shoulder, dropping it on the bed.

  The room was pretty much the way he remembered it sixteen—wait, it was more like seventeen or eighteen—years ago, when they’d come to visit one summer. It was old-fashioned and welcoming. Log walls, flannel and lace curtains, a braided rug against the wooden floor and a quilt thrown over the bed.

  He picked up her suitcase again. “It’s still nice.”

  Merrilee smiled. “You’re a sweetie.” She walked next door and he followed with the luggage. “And here you are, Delphi. I hope you find it comfortable.”

  “It’s lovely.” The expression on her face tugged at something undefined inside him, something he hadn’t even known was there. It was as if she found the room comforting.

  He noticed a door in the wall. Closed and locked now, it connected their rooms.

  This was working out well enough. He couldn’t have requested a better setup.

  * * *

  DELPHI PATTED HER FACE dry and quickly touched up her makeup, which was minimal anyway. She’d traded her travel clothes for a pair of casual black slacks and a nylon/spandex top. She’d probably be overdressed but she wasn’t comfortable showing up at the clinic in jeans, at least not the first time.

  She gazed longingly at the claw-foot tub. It practically begged for a long soak with bath salts and bubbles, her leaning against Lars’s chest, nestled between his thighs, his kisses against her neck, his hands on her—

  No, no and no. There, it was living proof that he was trouble. She’d met him on the plane, he’d carried up her suitcases...and she was already fantasizing about an erotic bath experience with him. She’d never experienced this kind of chemistry—the heat, the anticipation she felt around him.

  Work. She needed to focus on work. She was here for R&R—résumé and reputation repair.

  Gathering her stuff, she opened the bathroom door. Lars stood leaning casually against the wall outside, his shaving kit tucked under one arm. A guilty flush engulfed her face but she reassured herself he had no way of knowing she’d just been thinking about sharing some naughty tub time with him.

  “Oh,” she said. She felt breathless, flustered. “It’s all yours.”

  She stepped into the dimly lit passageway and stopped when she was even with him. There was no reason in the world that she couldn’t just keep moving. There was room to pass. Her bedroom was four, maybe five steps away. Her brain said go. Her body said stay.

  The smoldering heat in his eyes rooted her. His warmth, his energy tugged at her like an invisible cord.

  “I wasn’t sure if I wanted a hot shower,” he said, “or a hot meal first. The shower won out.” Would you like to scrub my back?

  “The tub is great. Well, it looks great.” I was thinking about you.

  “Sweet.” His glance dropped to her lips and it was almost as if she could feel him touching her, tracing the curve of her mouth.

  “You look nice,” he said. His low voice slid over her like a caress.

  He looked dark and sexy, with stubble shadowing his jaw and those faint lines radiating from his eyes. Her breath seemed stuck in her throat, her feet glued to the floorboards. She must be more tired than she thought to be so shaken by a compliment. She found her voice, if not the full measure of her wits. “Thanks.”

  He shifted slightly on his feet, pushing away from the wall. Her heart pounded against her ribs and she curled her fingers into her palm. Tension, anticipation, desire thickened the air and flowed through her. She swayed slightly.

  Lars raised his hand, reaching for her. It was a measured, controlled movement that matched the look in his eyes, part question, part challenge. He had signaled his intent. Now it was her move. He gave her time to advance, retreat or stand her ground. She stood.

  Her heart thunking against her ribs so hard she could swear she heard it, she awaited his touch. His nearness warmed her cheek, a precursor to the feathering of his fingers against her skin. His touch, so gentle, so light, melted her inside. Tilting her face up to his with his finger beneath her chin, Lars brushed his lips against hers in the lightest of kisses. It was so tantalizing, so sweet, so inflaming. She leaned into him and returned his gossamer kiss.

  He cupped the back of her neck with his big hand as he deepened the kiss. It was tentative, yet sure, as contradictory and intriguing as the man himself.

  He broke the kiss and dropped his hand back to his side. Magic seemed to enfold them, join them, in the hallway even after they were no longer touching. She felt suspended in the air, in that moment.

  “Let’s get a move on.” A man’s strident voice from downstairs pierced the air. Delphi’s feet were once again firmly on the ground.

  She took a step toward her room and Lars moved toward the bathroom.

  “I’ll catch you later,” he said.

  She knew how he meant it, but it held a ring of warning that what had transpired between them wasn’t finished. It would be revisited...and taken further.

  “Not if I can help it,” she said with a breathless, only kind-of-teasing note.

  Lars turned, a decidedly wicked grin quirking his lips. “Blondie, make no mistake about it. I will definitely catch you later. But I always practice catch and release.”

  “But what if I don’t want to be caught?”

  He laughed. “What if you don’t want to be released?”

  Arrogant. “I can’t imagine that particular scenario.”

  He laughed once again, winked at her and closed the bathroom door.

  Delphi turned on her heel and marched to her room, torn between exasperation and infatuation. She closed her bedroom door and leaned against it.

  What if she didn’t want to be released? That wink?

  Little did he know that she’d returned his kiss to satisfy her curiosity and nothing more. Now her curiosity was satisfied, but was she? She still simply wanted to be left alone. Didn’t she?

  * * *

  “WOULD YOU LIKE someone to walk you down to the clinic?” Merrilee asked.

  “Thanks, but I’d prefer to just go at my own pace and get a feel for the town.” Delphi had dropped her clothes on the bed and hurried downstairs when she heard the water running in the claw-foot tub next door. She’d put her shift away later. She didn’t want to think about Lars stripping down in the next room. She didn’t want to think about him naked...and if she stayed a minute longer, it would be inevitable. Actually, it was already too late—those had been the very thoughts chasing through her head as she’d hurried down the hall and stairs. Her mind had painted a picture of broad shoulders, muscular chest, a sprinkling of hair narrowing as it arrowed over a flat belly to a package that did him proud. Perhaps if she put enough distance between her and him, she could get the image out of her head. She could leave that kiss behind, as well. But she needed a few minutes in the fresh air alone to collect herself. She didn’t want to have to make small talk with anyone right now.

  “I understand,” Merrilee said. Delphi sincerely hoped not, but Merrilee had a way of looking at you as if she could see past the facade and know what was really going on. “Out the front door and take a left. You can’t miss it.”

  Delphi stepped out into the mild afternoon. Despite the sun, a cool breeze sifted through her hair and against her skin. She started down the sidewalk, noting that most of the vehicles driving by were older-model trucks or SUVs. She only saw one car and it was a station wagon. All of the vehicles bore a dulling coat of dust.

  Skye had summe
d up the town as a place that met simple needs. There was no Starbucks. No dry cleaners. No car dealerships. A single street ran through the center of town, with businesses flanking either side of the unpaved roadway. A sign on the front window across the street caught her eye—Curl’s Taxidermy/Barber Shop/Mortuary. Wow, talk about one-stop shopping.

  She passed a shop that billed itself as a video rental/screening room/internet café. Additionally there was a dry goods store, a bank, a shop with a collection of snowmobiles and other machinery with a sign advertising small-engine repair, a hardware store and in the distance a large log building with a sign proclaiming it the community center. The newer business additions were in the opposite direction, at the other end of town.

  A few minutes later, she finally arrived at the Health Center. Through the large plate-glass window, the waiting room was jam-packed. How in the world could this many people be sick in such a small place? Skye had told her that sometimes she only saw three people in a day. But now, it looked as if half the town’s population was crammed into the office.

  Was there an epidemic unfolding? An outbreak of sorts? She opened the door and stepped inside, a bell jangling overhead.

  As if someone had pressed a mute button, the room instantly quieted. All eyes trained on Delphi. A man, his long black hair pulled back in a queue, stepped forward. This had to be Nelson, the guy starting med school. A serene smile tilted his mouth and lit his dark eyes. “Hi, I’m Nelson Sisnuket, and you must be Delphi.”

  “I am.” They shook hands while the waiting room looked on like theatergoers enthralled in a stage production. “I’m so pleased to meet you.”

  “Not nearly as pleased as I am to see you. It was getting down to the wire.”

  A murmur rippled through the patients and then they resumed their conversations.

  Delphi and Nelson walked in unison toward the desk situated next to the short hallway. It was the first medical office she’d ever been in where there was no door that closed off the hallway leading to the exam rooms and the doctor’s office.

  “Bull’s installing a door next week,” he said.

  “Oh, okay.” Either she was incredibly transparent or Nelson was a little psychic. It was kind of freaky.

  “I saw you looking at the hallway,” he said with a smile. “Skye’s been waiting for you, but she just couldn’t get away.”

  Delphi glanced around the crowded waiting room. “No kidding. I take it this isn’t typical.”

  “It’s because I’m only here until next week. Change, even good change, throws people off. How about the quick tour while Skye finishes up with Norris?”

  “Sure. Sounds good to me.”

  Two exam rooms, a supply closet, a bathroom and Skye’s office comprised the back. The equipment and furniture were obviously dated. Delphi heard the murmur of Skye’s voice from behind the closed exam room door.

  “Want to wait in here or would you rather go back up front? I need to get back to it.”

  “How about I wait in here and then I’ll join you up front after I see Skye.”

  “That works.”

  The room looked as if it had been furnished with military salvage furniture from World War II. She sat in a barrel-backed wooden chair and waited. It was rather nice to be back in a medical office, even one that had taken a step back in time. Back in a familiar environment, her mind drifted.

  Lars. The smoky look in his eyes, his taste, his touch. The thought of him climbing into that claw-foot tub naked, her scrubbing his back, him pulling her in with him, clothes and all...

  She tried redirecting her thoughts, but he kept inserting himself in them. He was handsome and sexy in a worn, rugged way. The kind of guy her dad would call a man’s man, which fit with his marine background.

  Mercifully Skye opened the door and entered the office, dispelling all fantasies of Lars. Other than sporadic email updates, they hadn’t seen each other in several years. They exchanged a quick hug.

  “You look fantastic!” Delphi said, stepping back and taking a good look at her friend. And Skye did. Her long red curly hair, which had almost always been straightened and subdued into a fairly severe chignon, was now pulled back into a simple ponytail at the nape of her neck, allowing tendrils to curl around her face. But her sparkling eyes were the most telling. Obviously Good Riddance and/or being married agreed with her.

  “Thanks. I like it here. Actually, I love it here. I’m happy doing what I’m doing and my husband is beyond wonderful, so no complaints.” That answered that—it was a combination of man and place.

  Skye studied Delphi. “Your hair looks great. When did you cut it?”

  “When I accepted your offer.”

  “It looks good. You look good.” Voices sounded in the hall outside. Nelson was obviously bringing back another patient. “How was the trip?”

  “Long but uneventful.” Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Lars was an event. “No problems.” Even if he was a bit of a problem to her peace of mind.

  “Don’t let the crowd in the waiting room scare you. Everybody is here because Nelson’s leaving. And I’d better get back to it or we’re never going to get out of here today. Do you want to spend about forty-five minutes with Nelson going over how things are organized and then get settled in at the bed-and-breakfast? And how about dinner at our house tonight? We’ll get takeout at Gus’s—that’s the restaurant attached to the airstrip. It’s the only restaurant in town. I’d make something, but I don’t cook on a good day—” she waved toward the waiting room “—and this isn’t a particularly good day. We can eat there but people will be curious about you and I know you have to be tired. Besides, I’d really like for you to see our house.”

  “That sounds good. I can’t wait to see your place.”

  “Dalton and I will drop by for you around 6:45, if that’s okay.”

  “Perfect. I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Once again, Lars flashed through her brain. “So am I.”

  And oddly enough, she was.

  4

  DIRK SWENSON SAT at the bar in Gus’s, nursing a beer. He’d begged off going somewhere—he didn’t even know what they were going to do—with Bull, Tansy, Liam and Aunt Janie. Aunt Janie rubbed him the wrong way, but then again, she rubbed most people the wrong way.

  Lars was upstairs next door, settling in. It was good to see him. Dirk hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed his cousin. Sure enough Dirk worked with Liam every day and you’d figure with Liam and Lars being twins, one would do as well as the other, but it wasn’t the same. He respected both of his cousins, but Lars had always been warmer and more accessible. In Dirk’s mind, he’d been more of a brother than simply a cousin. And it’d been too damn long since he’d seen him.

  Dirk figured he might as well drown his sorrows in a beer, although it would take more than one to drown anything.

  Outside the sun was shining. Inside the room was buzzing with excitement over tomorrow’s wedding, some upbeat tune was playing on the jukebox and Dirk was one miserable son of a bitch. He’d tried, really tried, to get Liam’s ex-wife, Natalie, out of his head and he couldn’t. It was all so mixed up he didn’t see how it could ever all be sorted out.

  He’d grown up next door to Natalie. Hell, he’d been in love with her for as long as he could remember. And he’d never had the nerve to tell her. He’d always been huge compared to the other guys, his grades had left something to be desired and he was kind of shy around girls, especially Natalie. Still, it had been a terrible moment when he found out she was going to marry his cousin Liam. He’d been pissed at Liam for years, especially when they divorced.

  He and Liam had covered it—after Dirk punched Liam in the face—and it was okay now. Liam hadn’t mistreated Natalie or been unfaithful. They’d just wanted different things.

  Dirk was working with Liam now as the second-in-command at the survival training camp. The camp was primarily accessible by air. So
, he not only worked with Liam, he lived a stone’s throw from Liam and Tansy.

  Dirk had tried a lot of different things but hadn’t stuck with any of them for very long. He’d done construction work, truck driving, house painting and had even worked in the oil fields. Finally, for the first time in his life, he felt as if he’d found his place and actually had a purpose. Only he was still in a stew over Natalie.

  Dirk polished off his beer and stood, feeling a sense of resolve in the middle of all of his confusion. He knew one thing he could do that he hadn’t been able to do before—talk about it.

  He pushed through the connecting door to the airfield office, passing one of Gus’s waitresses as she came back into the restaurant. Merrilee looked up from where she was filling out paperwork at her desk. “Hey, Dirk. What can I do you for?”

  He liked Bull’s old lady. She was nice. “Lars upstairs?”

  She also had a nice smile. “He sure is. Room three.” She grabbed a take-out box from the corner of her desk. “His meal just came. Would you mind taking it up with you?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Dirk climbed the stairs and knocked on the door of room three. Nothing. Then he heard whistling in the bathroom. That was definitely Lars’s whistle.

  Dirk opened the bedroom door and went in, closing it behind him. He’d wait. Once he made up his mind about something, that was it. He just wished it didn’t take so damn long sometimes to make up his mind.

  He placed the food on the nightstand. Hell, he might as well relax until Lars finished up in the john. Dirk stretched out diagonally on the blanket. He fit better that way and his boots weren’t on the bed. He’d almost drifted off to la-la land when the door opened.

  Lars, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, pulled up short. “What the hell? Well, hey, Big D, make yourself at home.”

  “Just checking out the bed for you.” Dirk grinned as he sat up. “It’s comfy.”