by Julie Rowe
“Speaking of work,” Bob said, getting to his feet, “we’ve got plenty to do. Let’s go, Tyler.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Boss Man, sir.”
“I’ll see you two in a few minutes,” Tom told them.
Bob nodded at Tom then Emilie, while Tyler favored her with a grin and a wink.
She shook her head and smiled at them. “Have a great day, gentlemen.”
“Did you bring any equipment with you you’ll be plugging in?” Stan asked.
“Yes, a chemical analyzer.”
“Does it draw much power? I want to be sure we don’t overload the grid.”
“Stan is our resident electrical guru,” Tom said.
“Oh no, the analyzer is designed to use minimum power. In the field it has its own battery, rechargeable with an onboard solar panel.”
“Not much sunlight around here.”
“Another reason why I’m testing it here. There won’t be much where it’s going.”
“Wait,” Tom said, leaning forward. “Is this part of the probe NASA is sending to Jupiter to look for signs of life?”
“Jupiter’s moon, Io, yes. The analyzer will perform tests to detect the presence of several different organic compounds.”
“Could I come by to see it?” Stan asked, looking as excited as Tom.
“Sure. It’s quite compact, about the size of a small toaster.” She ducked her head. “But, ah, I can’t let you open it up. The design is proprietary.”
“I can live with that.” Stan grinned. “I’d like to see a demo.”
“I won’t be running any tests right away.”
“That’s okay, you can just point and explain.” He stood and grabbed his plate and mug. “Catch you two later.”
“Is he a closet biochemist?” Emilie asked Tom.
“Yeah, and a closet glaciologist and astrophysicist. We’re all about science down here.”
“What about you?” He’d been as interested in her explanation as Stan.
Tom relaxed, stretched out his legs and smiled. “Guilty.”
In this position, his sweater displayed the full width and impressive muscle tone of his arms and shoulders.
She loved a man with broad shoulders.
No. No, no, no. Not going to happen.
“So,” she said, pulling her gaze away and focusing on her plate. “Any advice or instructions for me?”
“Right now, no, but I’m sure to have some later.” His words were innocent, but his tone slid over her skin like the arousing touch of a lover.
She kept eating, her hot face turned down.
Tom seemed content to lounge in his chair, introducing her to everyone who stopped by.
By the time she finished breakfast, she’d met another dozen or so members of the personnel who were staying at the station over the Antarctic winter.
“It’s going to take a while to remember everyone’s names,” she said to Tom as they stood and deposited their trays in the soiled tray rack. “I’m more of a face person.” She followed him out toward the medical clinic.
“Nah, it won’t take you long.”
“You have a lot of faith in me.”
He shrugged. “You’re good with people.”
She’s always been told that, but… “And you know this how?”
“You’ve been here less than a day and the crew is already telling me what a great addition you are.”
“That’s nice to hear.”
“And…” he began then hesitated.
“And?”
“I don’t know why your husband’s death was left out of your personnel file. Nexadren is usually very thorough. For example, I spoke to all of the references you provided and they all said the same things. You’re brilliant, big on people and relentless when it comes to getting the job done.”
Tom spoke to her references? “So, you had a say in my getting this job?”
“A small one.”
“If you had known about…my husband, would you have recommended me?”
He stopped walking and turned to face her, his expression blank. “No.”
The bluntness of his answer rocked her back on her heels and lodged a ball of ice in her throat. “Do you want me to leave?”
His eyebrows rose. “That was a hell of a leap.”
“I’m a team player. If the team captain doesn’t think I fit in, I’m happy to—”
“Whoa there,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t want you to go anywhere except the medical center. You’re here now, and having met you, I think you’ll make a good addition to the team.”
She narrowed her eyes. Was he placating her, patting her on the head?
“Do you know what else they said?” The corners of his lips tilted upward. “They also said you’d fight to the death for something you believe in. Do you believe in what we do here?”
“The science?”
“That and the whole concept of cooperation. The adventure of surviving in this environment, the discovery of what we’re truly capable of.”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
He took another half step closer, brushing against her, surrounding her with his heat and scent. “That’s why I want you here.”
Frozen by his words and proximity, she watched as he stared down at her, as if trying to convince her with his eyes alone. Then his head lowered a fraction like he planned to whisper something in her ear.
Or kiss her.
Instead he squeezed her shoulder, released her and angled his head in the direction of the medical center. “Come on.”
Emilie followed after a moment, confused, bemused and fascinated all over again.
Forget the weather and altitude. Tom was the most dangerous thing about this place.
He left her outside the center’s double doors and she went inside alone. Boxes and bins of supplies covered nearly every inch of space on the floor, leaving no more than a small, winding trail free of clutter between the doorway and the large desk inside.
Plenty to keep her out of trouble in here.
Emilie immersed herself in unpacking, organizing and storing it all. In addition to all the normal medical supplies, she needed an area where she could work with the analyzer and chemicals required to proceed with David’s project. A quick, simple analysis to detect the type of bacteria scientists theorized could thrive deep in Io’s ice, it had been anything but simple to develop. He’d spent the last two years of his life researching, running trials and preparing to try his chemical test in space. Antarctica, with its extreme environment, was to have been the site of its last earthbound trial run. She’d promised to finish his work, on the day of his funeral as she looked at him in his coffin for the last time.
That promise was the only thing that kept her going after she lost the baby. The only legacy she could give him now.
Shaking her head clear of such unproductive thoughts, Emilie threw herself into work, finding room for things as she unpacked them.
“Getting it all squared away?”
She popped her head over the edge of a box. Tom stood just inside the doors. “Yes. My goodness, there’s an amazing amount of stuff in this place.”
“We’ve got to be ready for everything from the mundane to the truly bizarre.”
Emilie stepped away from the boxes and approached him hesitantly. “Speaking of everything…Tyler brought up an interesting subject earlier, and he wasn’t the first one.”
“Oh?”
She paused about four steps away from Tom. “This is your fourth winter here, right?”
He nodded.
“Well, there are sixty-four of us isolated here for almost a year. Thirteen women and fifty-one men.”
“That’s pretty typical.”
“Maybe on a Norwegian submarine, but nowhere else.” The numbers alone made her wince, but factor in all those personalities and the isolation, and trouble seemed inevitable. “Doesn’t a four-to-one ratio like this cause problems?”
; “Such as?”
Her face burned. “With…uh, casual sex or, more precisely, too often and too casual sex.”
Tom grinned and shrugged. “Not really. Relationships form and people do sleep together, but we’re all adults and everyone is encouraged to be discreet.” He eyed her with masculine interest, the sexy smile on his face enough to raise her temperature several degrees all on its own.
“I see.” What she wouldn’t give for a fan. How hot could a person get before self-combusting? She cleared her throat. “I’d heard a few stories when I was at the Nexadren job fair and wasn’t sure what to believe.”
Nexadren, the contractor responsible for staffing the four United States stations in Antarctica, had some interesting rules and requirements for its prospective employees. They’d been ecstatic when she told them she’d had her appendix out at sixteen, which seemed odd until they showed her the elevated incidence statistics of appendicitis in Antarctica. Some of their other questions didn’t seem relevant, however. How many siblings in your family? Were you ever a Girl Scout?
Tom met her gaze and held it, his grin warping into a wince. “I’m not sure what you heard, but some people do use sex as a survival mechanism. That might sound crazy or even crass, but it works for them.”
She stared at him. “They use it to cope? There was nothing about that in my briefing materials.”
“It’s not protocol. It’s one of the things Polies don’t usually talk about off the Ice.”
Her brows rose. Interesting. “What else do we not talk about off the Ice?”
“We don’t generally broadcast the sillier stuff. The practical jokes, the occasional all-night party or who’s sleeping with whom.”
If he was trying to reassure her, he wasn’t succeeding. “Is alcohol a problem?”
“Not usually. People get drunk once in a while, but not on the job. I have zero tolerance for that.”
One worry down, forty-two to go. “What else can I expect from the crew? My briefing mentioned insomnia as a chronic problem. Should I be wary of depression or other mental disorders?”
“Depression can be an issue, but that’s why we have all these fun coping mechanisms. They’re necessary.”
Great, no pressure. “How do you see my role? Beyond the obvious, I mean.”
“You’re an invaluable member of the team. I know you’ve got your science experiment, but I also hope you’ll connect with the crew, spend time with them and help me keep an eye on the anxiety level.”
“Things can get stressful quickly?”
He gave her an emphatic nod. “Faster than the speed of light.”
“It looks like I have to find a hobby or two.”
“All part of the job.”
“You and I don’t get any real downtime, then?”
He snorted. “We’re on call for the next ten months.”
“And you came back to do this for a fourth time?”
He shrugged. “I like it. It’s a challenge. Are you here mainly to finish your husband’s project?”
“Yes.”
“Ah.” He tilted his head to one side. “And the fact that you’re still grieving and this place is the farthest thing from home has nothing to do with it?”
Ice formed around her, sucking all the heat out of the air and her lungs. “No.” She lifted her chin. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. Really.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Really.”
“Yes.”
For a long moment he seemed to consider her words then he shook his head and closed the distance between them. “You’re okay right now, but in three months, when you start feeling the darkness closing in on you, you might not be. Let’s get this out in the open and deal with it before it becomes a problem.”
She tried not to frown, to keep her expression serene. “It? What it are you talking about?”
“Your husband.” Tom sighed. “Every time anyone mentions him you look as if someone’s stabbed you in the gut.”
She stared at him, her eyes wide, the cold spreading like an infection throughout her body. “I had no idea. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong. What you need to do is talk it out. Unload.” His face softened. “Tell me about him. How did he die?”
Emilie closed her eyes against the pain, guilt and confusion that welled up from deep inside. She was so cold, so damned cold. “I don’t know if talking about it here is a good idea.”
“No one is going to walk in today. They know they’ll just get put to work. Now is the perfect time.” He paused, watching her face with an intensity that made her nervous for more than one reason. “Unless… Have you spoken with anyone about your husband?”
“My psychologist.”
“What about friends?”
“A few times, but…” She shook her head. “Not enough.”
“We’ve got to work together, and in order for us to do that I’ve got to trust you and you’ve got to trust me,” Tom said in a warm tone. “Just think of me as a post. Vent. Yell if you want to.”
Why did he have to look so strong?
Emilie shook with pent-up anguish almost as powerful as what she’d experienced a year ago. Time wasn’t easing the pain. Maybe Tom was right, maybe this was about trust. Or, a way to build it.
Concern had chiseled a furrow between his eyes and turned the corners of his mouth down. He was offering to listen with no judgments or conditions.
Do it, just say the words. Maybe then she’d stop dreaming about it every night. Maybe she’d let it go. “My husband died of a heart attack,” she whispered.
Tom’s hands closed gently on her shoulders. “How old was he?”
Emilie could barely get the word out. “Forty.”
“High blood pressure, stress?”
“No.” She shook her head violently. “He was healthy and very fit. Scheduled to go up in a shuttle launch in less than a year when it happened.”
Tom’s next question was hesitant. “Were you there when he died?”
“Yes. I gave him CPR, but…”
“No wonder.” He sighed and moved closer still, bringing her into the curve of his arm. “It’s okay.”
She made a small sound of negation. When was death ever okay?
He rubbed his hand in a circle on her back, the way a mother would to soothe a baby. “How did it happen?”
“We were hiking, too far from medical help.” She could see it all happening again, hear herself yelling, screaming at David to fight, to breathe.
A gentle touch at her temple brought her back to the present. Tom had one hand on her back, while the other cradled her head. She buried her nose in his sweater and clutched him around the middle.
God, he felt good. Strong, solid, masculine. Like a sun-warmed stone in the middle of an icy mountain creek. She clung to him, soaking up his heat and strength.
She stood there for a long time, letting herself hold him, letting him hold her. A calm seemed to well up from the bottom of her belly, loosening clenched muscles and knotted emotions.
Emilie backed out of his embrace. Shouldn’t she be feeling disloyal? It had only been a year. She hadn’t thought of another man in that time. Hadn’t been touched by one, hadn’t wanted to be touched by one. But, Tom’s touch…. No, she wouldn’t cross the line between friendship and more. Getting close could only lead to disappointment and pain, for her and him. Until she let go of David completely, she wasn’t good for any man. “Well, I think that’s enough tears for today. Can we talk about this more later?” she asked, sucking in a stuttering breath. “I have a lot of work to do.”
“Avoiding the subject isn’t going to make it go away.”
“I know, but I don’t think going through every detail right now will solve anything, either.”
“Maybe it will,” he said, his voice filled with sympathy.
“Maybe,” she allowed. “But we’ve got lots of time.” She swallowed hard. “Give me a c
hance to get my bearings.” And to learn how to keep from leaning too much on you.
He looked at her for a long second. “Fine. I’ll let it go for the moment, but life’s going to get tough here, Emilie. Tougher than you can imagine, and you have no idea what your emotions are going to do.” He checked his watch. “I’ve got a meeting down in the powerhouse. Why don’t you have a look around, get familiar with your setup and I’ll check in on you in a couple of hours.”
“I may not be here.” Here to do a job, she planned on doing it well. Part of that job was looking after the health of everyone at the station. “I want to go for a stroll and make sure I’ve met everyone.”
“Good idea. We’ll finish this conversation later.”
“It might not be for a while.”
“But it will happen.” He didn’t wait for her to refuse or argue further; instead he nodded and strode out the door.
Emilie stared after him.
She had come to Antarctica to get away from her past, to try to find a way around it, to move on. She knew that. But why would a man as vibrant, interesting and compassionate as Tom keep coming back?
What was he running from?
At six o’clock, Emilie sat in the cafeteria with Sharon and Carol finishing off her dinner. They’d both wintered here before and had plenty of tales to tell. Especially about the men they considered eligible. Like Stan, who could play guitar and knew more ways to have fun than should be allowed. And Tyler, who, despite being a party animal, could fix anything.
“What about Tom?” she asked them.
“Tom?” Sharon repeated, blinking.
Carol snorted and took a sip of her coffee.
Emilie looked from one to the other. “Is he married or something?”
Carol choked.
“No way,” Sharon said, pounding her on the back. “Tom doesn’t do long-term relationships. At least, not that I’ve ever seen.”
“Me neither,” Carol sputtered in between coughs.
“Why not?”
Both women looked at Emilie with raised brows.
“I mean, he’s good-looking, smart, funny,” she continued.
“He’s also in charge and he refuses to play favorites.”
“Yeah, I remember his first winter,” Carol said. “He actually told one of the beakers, a PhD from a university, that he wasn’t interested in more than the occasional one-night stand.”