by Chant, Zoe
“Well, next time you’re home,” James began, and Nessa thought that she saw a faint flicker of a grimace cross his face, “you can take this recipe back with you and chocolate your way back into their good books.”
“Is chocolate a verb now?”
“It is when the cake is made with the secret recipe of my family.” James began to gather the stew bowls up in preparation for taking them to the kitchen. “Go have a seat on the couch, and prepare yourself.”
She nodded and rose as he did. She headed to the couch, he headed to the kitchen, and she heard him beginning to whistle. She felt a pang of envy for his relationship with his family, and could just imagine him sitting on the floor, playing with a nephew or a niece. Or standing beside his mom at a stove.
James emerged from the kitchen again, whistling a fanfare, plates in hands. Nessa made mock-grabby hands in his direction. James handed her both plates, and retrieved a second wine bottle and the glasses from the table, pouring her another glass and trading it for one of the plates of cake.
“Are you this neighbourly to everyone who comes up here?” she asked, the wine making her tongue thick. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for her to tilt her head just a few inches to rest it on his shoulder.
“No one comes here,” he corrected her, maneuvering himself so that his free arm rested across her shoulders. She turned her head into his neck, and inhaled. He smelled of smoke, bread, and something strangely musky that seemed to worm its way straight to her core. She wondered if he tasted as good as he smelled and fought the urge to lick his skin.
Outside, the wind picked up a notch, battering against the windows, and the fire in the hearth flared a little, sending a wash of heat across the room. Nessa snuggled in deeper to James’s side, feeling unaccountably relaxed and contented around a man that she hadn’t even known for a day.
“So what do you do for a living?” she asked.
“Odd jobs here and there,” he replied thoughtfully. “Forest tours one day, fishing trips another, helping someone down in the town later on. Whatever takes my eye.”
“Sounds nice, to have that freedom,” she said.
“It is. I’m my own man, on my own time.”
“I sometimes wonder what it would be like to have that freedom. I mean, I get a lot of scope in my job, but I still answer to my editor.”
“What is it you do?”
“Wildlife photographer extraordinaire, at your service.” She executed a mock bow from her lounging position before cuddling back in again. She felt the rumble of his laughter.
“So what brings you up here into the wilds? Moose? Foxes?”
“Those, but mostly bears.”
She felt him laugh again.
“Why bears?” he asked. She shrugged.
“No clue as to that. I just take the shots.”
Even as distracted as he was by her intoxicating presence, James silently vowed that when he got the chance, he’d let her get all the photos she needed of his other self. Not only would he get to spend more time with her, but she’d be safe from getting hurt. Which gave him an idea.
“Well, happens that I know this area pretty well. How’d you like a guide tomorrow?” he offered.
Her face lit up with her smile. “I’d love that,” she said happily. “Just so long as I’m not stopping you from doing anything else?”
“My schedule is completely cleared,” he assured her.
With her face turned up towards him, glowing with joy, he wanted to lean forward and kiss her. His bear demanded it, but for the human, it was too soon. He wouldn’t scare his mate, not before getting to know her.
She shifted, reluctantly, he thought. “I’d better be heading back,” she said. “It’s been a long day of traveling, and I’ll need to be rested for trekking tomorrow. Does seven sound too early?”
“Say no more,” He kept his tone light, while forcing himself to move away from her heat. “Seven sounds fine. Like me to walk you over to your cabin?”
Her laugh was music to his ears. “I think I can manage.”
And she did manage, seeming to take all the light and heat with her. James watched her until she stepped into her own cabin, before he closed his door. He rested his head against the cool wood and took a breath, hoping to steady himself. His mate. His one-and-only true love. And he let her walk out.
He shifted form and let the uncomplicated mind of the bear come to the fore. He sniffed and drew in a full lungful of her scent. The dying fire gave him a little heat as he curled up on the rug, resting his head on the couch where she had been dozing. With the smell of his mate thick in his nostrils, he drifted off into a deep, peaceful and dream-filled sleep.
***
The following morning dawned cold and clear. Nessa, suitably caffeinated, bounced onto James’s porch at seven on the dot. She was shifting from foot to foot in her eagerness to get moving, and the camera around her neck bounced with every movement.
“How do I look?” she asked James the moment he opened the door. “Suitable for the wilds?”
James looked her up and down, taking in the sturdy boots, thick trousers, and waterproof coat. Nessa pirouetted for him, and took satisfaction in the pleased glance he gave her.
“I wish more people planned like you,” he said, stepping out and closing the door behind him. “I once saw a lady trying to hike in six-inch heels.”
“How did she get on,” Nessa asked curiously.
“Badly,” James replied dryly, mimicking wobbling. “Tried to blame me when she fell into a mud hole.”
“I solemnly swear that I won’t blame you should I fall into a muddy hole. I might pull you in with me, but I won’t blame you,” Nessa said, her mind filling with sudden visualizations of James, covered in mud and naked, being washed by herself. She felt the aroused blush turn her cheeks red, and busied herself with her camera to hide it.
Rather than striking straight out into the forest, James led her along the shingle beach for a while. Nessa kept her eyes peeled for bears, but amused herself by taking pictures of the seabirds that wheeled and danced above the lake. Every so often, she’d catch James looking at her, though he pretended not to.
After about fifteen minutes, and several hundred pictures later, James stopped, and rested one hand on her arm. Nessa had been staring at the tree line, thinking that she had seen something move, when James caught her attention,
“We’re in luck,” he whispered. “Look.”
Nessa looked ahead and spied what had caught his attention. At the edge of the lake was a family of red foxes, mother and three cubs. The mother was drinking from the lake, with the three cubs playing an involved game of chase. Slowly, Nessa sank to one knee to steady herself, and began to snap.
It was a lovely scene, and Nessa was certain that she would get a few nice shots out of it. James knelt down beside her, and his warmth was a little distracting. He was thoughtful company, keeping still and quiet while she worked away, until the foxes found something more interesting to do and scampered off.
“I wish all my guides were as quiet as you,” she commented, as she switched out the memory card. “Would make things go a lot smoother.”
James looked puzzled. “Why shouldn’t I be quiet while you’re working?”
Nessa gave him a thumbs-up as she slid the back of the camera back on. “You’d be surprised at how many people think they need to tell me their life story while I’m trying to work.”
“I’m too busy admiring the scenery,” James said. “I never get tired of the sights.”
A man after my own heart, Nessa thought quietly to herself.
***
They were on the trek back to the cabin, and James was planning. They had not seen any bears, something he wasn’t surprised about, but he thought Nessa seemed a little disappointed. So he was working out how best to show her the animal she really wanted to see.
Rather than traverse the same route back, James had taken them through the forest, via a caribo
u herd. While Nessa quickly and efficiently took her pictures, he did as he said and admired the scenery. He wasn’t admiring the way the sunlight drizzled through the leaves, or the way the caribou blended with their surroundings, he was admiring Nessa.
The way one strand of her hair had broken free to fall over her face, and the adorable way she scrunched up her face to blow it out of the way. The way that she filled out her clothes in a way that made his mouth dry. The little furrow of concentration on her brow that he longed to kiss smooth. The soft smile that she wore when she caught him looking at her. Maybe, just maybe, she shared his feelings.
He caught a glimpse of the cabins through the trees and paused. Nessa stopped and pushed the strand of hair back into place again.
“Cabins are just over there. While I’m here, I’m going to go and check on a couple of snares I set up. Won’t be more than ten, fifteen minutes.”
“Need a hand?” Nessa asked. “Seems like the least I could do after you spent so much time with me.”
“No need, sweet,” he replied casually. “You go on back and get thawed out. Although there’s a pot of soup on the stove that I’d be obliged if you’d put on.”
She saluted cheerfully and cheekily. “Aye, aye.”
James loped off into the woods, with only one quick look behind to make sure that Nessa wasn’t following him. He barely waited till she was out of sight before he let himself fall into the transformation.
If his mate wanted to see a bear, then he would oblige.
Nessa bounced out of the trees with a spring in her stride. The morning had gone well, James was an absolute sweetheart, and she wanted to jump his bones in the worst possible way. It was a sweet torture to have to work next to him, to focus on her photos. There was something about his strong physique and his quiet nature that warmed her.
And he trusted her, enough to tell her to go into his home. And by the looks that she had caught him giving her, he might feel something for her, too.
She flicked the stove on as instructed and turned the soup into a low simmer. Still too full of happiness to sit still, she headed back to the porch to wait for James. Just as she stepped out of the front door, from the forest came a huge, furred form. Nessa felt her breath catch in her chest and consciously held it, freezing in place.
In her line of work, she had a healthy respect for animals, and none more so than the predators. And here, there were no others greater than the bear. It either did not see her, or most likely did not feel threatened by her. It, probably a he, was a beautiful rich chestnut shade, muscles rippling powerfully under his heavy fur.
Cautiously, moving as slowly as she dared, she lifted her camera. The whirr of the lens extending seemed unnaturally loud to her, but apart from a light flicking of one tufted ear, the bear didn’t seem to mind.
She snapped and snapped away as the bear walked down to the lake to take a drink. It was almost, she thought facetiously, like it was posing for her, especially as after it finished, it turned and looked right at her for half a minute, before strolling off into the woods again.
Nessa took in her first deep breath and let it out in a long contented sigh.
She was still on the porch, staring into the middle distance when James emerged. She automatically raised the camera and took a snap, before starting to pay attention again.
“Am I that photogenic?” he asked once he got within earshot.
“Autopilot,” she admitted. “You didn’t run into a bear when you were coning back?”
“No, why?”
She flicked her camera to gallery mode and held it up on display as he joined her. He whistled, impressed, she thought.
“He came out of the woods as nice as you like, down for a drink, and away again. Look,” and she flicked to one of the close up shots. James nodded in appreciation.
“Nice work,” he said.
She grinned, pleased by the compliment.
“Join me for soup?” he asked.
“I’d love to.”
The soup was delicious, Nessa decided, but the company was even more delicious. She had managed not to burn it in the reheating, and James had plated it up, and served it along with thick slices of crusty bread. James was a focused eater, devoting his attention to clearing his plate. He wasn’t a messy eater either, taking neat spoons and bites.
Nessa found herself more interested in watching him than in eating herself, but applied herself after he shot her a brief quizzical look. He really was a handsome man, in a rough sculpted way. You wouldn’t find his likeness in a galley, whether in marble or oils. He might never grace the cover of any magazines. He certainly wasn’t the type of man that she would usually go for.
But there was something about him. More than just the way that he looked, it was the way that he carried himself, the way that he moved. The timbre of his voice, the way that it sent shivers up her spine even when he was pointing out features of the scenery.
His eyes were warm but guarded, and she wondered what lay in his past to make him look like that. What made a man like him so eager to live out here, away from everywhere else?
“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, as he swirled a final piece of bread around his bowl to make sure he got the last remnants of the soup.
“Just thinking,” she replied.
“Nothing bad, I hope?”
“My curiosity getting the better of me,” she admitted. “Just wondering what brings someone out here. Can’t be just for the quiet life, can it?”
He frowned thoughtfully. “City girl, are you?”
She nodded. “Born and bred. I’ve traveled, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve always called the city home.”
“Trying to figure me out?” he teased.
“Maybe,” she said, with a challenging glint in her eye.
He laughed. “Nothing really to figure out about me. I’m a country boy, raised out in the middle of nowhere. Tried living in the city once, too many lights, too much noise, and too many people. Out here, there’s just me, unless I want company. Out there, things aren’t as complicated as they are in the city, or they’re not as complicated as people make them.”
His bear hated the city.
“You wouldn’t even think about moving into the town?” she asked.
“Not unless there was a reason for me to. I like it out here, sweet, I suit it, and it suits me.”
“I can see that.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her, and she blushed. “I mean, you look…” she stammered.
He laughed and let her off the hook. “I knew what you meant, sweet, and I thank you for the compliment. At least you’re not trying to persuade me to get down to the town. Dan usually tries at least once a week, when he’s not trying to set me up on a date.”
Her heart, curiously, skipped a beat. “Oh?” she asked, hoping she sounded casual enough, and he wouldn’t mind the query. “Does he try to set you up a lot?”
“Have any friends that are happily married and determined to make sure that you end up the same way?” he countered.
“No, but I take your point,” and she did. “So he’s had no luck in finding a girl to win your heart?”
“Not for lack of trying. What about you? Any special man waiting for you in the city?”
“Absolutely not,” she said firmly.
“Well, that was a definitive,” he said in surprise.
“Not many men have the patience to deal with me being away for so long on assignment.”
She could have sworn she heard him mutter, “More fool them.”
***
The more that James learned about Nessa, the more he liked. She was smart, sassy, and sensible, as if she had been designed for him. Designed to be his mate. She hadn’t tried to convince him that the city way of living was the best, as some tourists did. She had laughed at a few of the blind-date experiences he had shared, and had shared a few of her own.
She had headed back over to her cabin to tidy, or clean, or do something. He hadn’t
wanted to pry too much. Not after she agreed to come back over to his place for dinner that night. He wanted to make her something special, make her something as special as she was proving to be.
As he moved around the kitchen, gathering the ingredients, he wondered if it was the bear driving him, or if it was all himself. Most of the time, it was hard to tell where he ended and where the bear began. But ever since he had seen Nessa, he had felt a gulf growing between himself and his bear. His bear wanted Nessa, wanted to take her, to claim her, and make her his. His bear wanted to drive off all rivals, protect her, defend her, and love her.
What did he want to do?
Absently, he diced an onion. What did he want to do? If he forgot about his bear, and the nagging urge to claim his mate. She was attractive, intelligent, and he would certainly like to get to know her. He’d like to see if those lips tasted as sweet as they looked. He’d like to run his fingers through her hair and trail them down over her skin.
He halted his knife, before he could start slicing the carrots, and examined his train of thought.
It sounded very much like he was starting to fall for this lady. His lady.
***
Their second evening meal together had gone as well as their first, with another bottle of wine being opened to set the mood. They had talked over dinner, random, winding conversation with no real meaning other than to pass the time. Once again, they had retired to the couch after dessert, to stare into the fire together.
She was so warm next to him, snuggled up so trustingly into his side. She was a strong, confident woman, and he admired that about her. Daringly, he bent his head and pressed a light kiss against her brow.
He knew that it was a mistake as soon as his lips touched her skin. He wanted more, he wanted to slide his lips over her own, claim and plunder her mouth with the passion that seethed inside him. One chaste kiss was not enough.
Driven by his instincts, he turned his head and looked down at her, as he used his free hand to tilt her head up to look at him. Her eyes were hazy with the wine, but there was still understanding and clarity there, as she stretched upwards and kissed him.