by Connie Wood
Roman gripped the shower seat as he breathed deep and tried to get a grip on his emotions. He had no idea what the rest of his life would hold, but for now he would follow the suggestion of the simpering little psychiatrist. He would write about his experiences. He would tell his tale. But first, he would do some research. He would find out how and why he and his team were chosen for their missions.
His plans were already in motion. He’d contacted his once-superiors to gain security access to the research information. Hopefully, he’d hear their decision soon. With a purpose in mind, Roman reached up and turned off the water. He grimaced as he leaned over and retrieved his arm crutches. He now had to maneuver around the things scattered on the floor.
He sat on the edge of the bath to dry himself, looking wistfully into the porcelain tub. He had missed his long luxurious baths while he was in the field, covered in dirt and grime. Back then, showers had been a sporadic luxury. He had yet to have a bath since being back. Getting in and out of the tub was still out of his capabilities and that is what annoyed him the most. He had been most capable once.
The trill of his telephone echoed through the bathroom and he quickly picked it up, glad to have a hands free unit that he took everywhere with him.
"Hello."
"Mr. Grisham? This is Paul Heathrow. We spoke yesterday regarding the access to some archive files?”
There was a pause on the phone. One which Roman had no intention of filling.
"Yes, well. I’ve called to say that you have the clearance necessary to access the files. You can start your research as of Monday morning."
Excellent. Now the real work could begin.
"Thank you, Mr. Heathrow. I’ll see you Monday."
He was about to hang up when the man added, "I’m afraid there is one condition that has been added to your request though. You will have to be assisted at all times by a fully qualified librarian."
Anger surged through Roman. How could he freely access all the information he needed if he was to be babysat by some quaint little librarian?
"That was not part of the agreement. I was lead to understand that I would have full security access."
"That is still correct, Mr. Grisham, but I have been told to give you an assistant. She is very capable and also has full security access. I believe you’ll find her discreet and very confidential. I’m sure there will be no problems."
Full security access? Why would they give someone else full access so easily after he fought so hard for it?
"What is the name of the assistant?" he demanded.
"Her name is Germaine Andrews. I can assure you, Mr. Grisham, that you’ll find her most adequate."
~* * *~
Monday morning shone bright, glaringly mocking Germaine's mood. She’d been regretting her moment of bravery all weekend. The only thing stopping her from fleeing the city altogether had been Paul's words vibrating through her head about the possibility of living her life happy. Away from her past.
Bracing herself, Germaine slid the security card through the machine that allowed her entry into the cold sterile room. It was so different from her safe haven downstairs. This room was bright. Harsh sunlight shone through sparkling windows and bounced off arctic white walls. She heard the constant whirring of machines, their incessant noise buzzing through her head.
Still there were only a handful of select employees who were able to venture into this section of the building. There would be very few people with whom she would have to interact. Fewer people who would stare at her scar and look at her with pity.
Paul stood at the doorway nervously fidgeting with a security tag. She walked over to greet him and he gave her shoulders a fatherly squeeze before he led her through another security door. She stifled the urge to inwardly cringe at the unaccustomed contact. She stiffened her resolve before allowing herself to be led into the room.
Germaine stifled an instinctive gasp. The handsome masculine man sitting at the small white table sent immediate electrical impulses coursing through her body. Never before had she reacted so instantaneously to a man. Her barriers were so strong that appealing good looks rarely affected her. Nothing productive would result from her yearnings and she cringed again and fidgeted uncomfortably.
"This is Mr. Grisham. He’s interested in doing some research and requires your assistance."
Paul spoke directly to Germaine, though her attention was still placed on the attractive man who remained seated. He lifted his head in a slow, predatory manner. His gaze rose to meet hers and she blinked. His dark brown eyes told her instantly that he didn’t want her assistance in any way, and she took a step back.
Placing his hands on the arm rests he used his upper strength to raise himself slowly from the chair until he was able to get his feet under him. Germaine swallowed as his biceps rippled from the effort.
He stood still for a fraction of a second before he started toward her. He had a lopsided gait that oozed sensuality. He was moving slowly and deliberately like a predator, even though his limp was pronounced. She shivered, and she had the feeling that he could move at the speed of light if needed.
She had met men like him before. They were dangerous. Deadly. She tried desperately to raise her emotional barriers against him. He stopped in front of her, completely ignoring Paul. He held out a strong deeply tanned hand.
"I’m Roman Grisham." A slight smile played against his hard mouth. Steeling herself, she reached out and grasped his hand firmly. She made sure she had a good firm hand shake. She needed to be on an equal footing with him. Well, as equal as anyone could be with this man.
"Germaine Andrews." It was all she could think to say. All rational thought slipped away as the warmth of his hand seeped through her and his gaze held hers.
Roman's grin widened into a genuine smile making him devastatingly handsome. "I’m sure we’re going to get along just fine Gerri."
Enjoy the first chapter from…
Ursa Major by Mary Winter
Sarah Doyle's job with a reputable Washington firm sends her to the Alaskan National Wildlife Refuge to write an honest report about oil drilling. She's aided by Liam Phillips, owner of RoundTheBend Eco Tours. All she wants is a few weeks in the wilderness and to keep her personal opinions in check so she can write the unbiased report her firm requests. Get in and get out. That's what she's done in the past, and what she expects to do now. She hadn't counted on her sexy, rugged guide or the feelings he kindles inside her.
Liam is a man who will do anything to save his home and keep his secret safe. The remote countryside keeps his people hidden. It's their refuge and their home. He expects a stuffy political puppet, not a woman as untamed as the land he loves. His goal is to give Sarah the information she needs and send her back to Washington D.C. as soon as possible.
However, pressures back in Washington DC, and from Liam's people, are mounting. Sarah has to persevere for her own peace of mind, for an entire ecosystem, and for a people she doesn't even know. But time is running out and Liam may have to reveal his darkest secrets in order to save everything.
Chapter One
Sitting in the seat of the commuter plane, listening to the tinny vibration of metal, the whoosh of air currents buffeting the tiny craft, Sarah Doyle forced herself to uncurl her fingers from around the armrest and breathe deeply. After flying across the lower forty-eight states, then so far north that the sun never set this time of year, she expected she’d be less fearful of flying. Maybe the isolation was getting to her? Looking out the window over the Alaskan landscape, Sarah saw nothing except an occasional cabin and small settlements undeservedly called towns.
“We’re almost there,” the pilot called over the intercom. The twenty-six seat plane was barely half full. She had the row to herself. The rest of the passengers were all avid fishermen and their excitement built as they neared their destination of Deadhorse, Alaska. They spoke of salmon runs of years past, of fishing in Yellowstone, of the catch they hoped to land this year.
Sarah managed a smile at the sole flight attendant. She’d seen the pilot as she’d boarded, an older man who had flown this route since he was in his twenties. His graying hair and full beard marked him as several decades older than that, and his easy smile should have put Sarah at ease. Yet, the more she looked out the window, the more she saw this starkly beautiful landscape, and the more she feared what she had to do. Hodges & Associates sent her out here on a mission. She couldn’t let her spiritual or her environmental beliefs get in the way. No matter if DC politics sickened her on the best of days, and made her wish she were far, far away on the worst.
The plane began a steep descent, cutting off her thoughts. Sarah swallowed hard, her fingers once more gripping the armrest as the plane bumped and jolted its way down to the strip of runway outside of Deadhorse. Sarah closed her eyes and tried to block out the images of bloated, dead carcasses the town’s name invoked. A slight bump announced the plane’s touchdown, and she breathed a sigh of relief. On firm ground once again.
She used the moments while the plane taxied to the terminal to calm her racing heart and wrap her political shell around her. She was here on a fact finding mission. Once she met up with Liam from Round the Bend EcoTours, she’d see the Brooks Range and what the oil pipeline was doing, or not doing, to the environment. Once that was done, she’d return to her cushy apartment in Washington D.C., where the wildest thing she had to deal with was the non-stop city traffic, and write her report. Fair and unbiased. She could do this. She had to do this.
The plane stopped and the pilot thanked them for flying with him, as if any of them really had a choice. She fished her sunglasses out of her carry-on and put them on before disembarking to gather her luggage. Just a small suitcase and camping supplies, but she had no doubt they’d be enough to carry into the terminal. She scanned the area, but didn’t see anyone who looked like her contact. I don’t know why you’re worrying about this. Just write your report and come back. It’s not that big of a deal. Her fiancé’s words haunted her as she slung her backpacking frame over her shoulders and pulled out the handle on her rolling suitcase. Sarah curled her lip in disgust. Walt Beamer hadn’t been beyond the city limits a day in his life and didn’t understand what it meant to be out here. He didn’t understand what her work meant to her. She drew in a breath of fresh, clean air, available even here at the airport, and smiled.
Just inside the terminal, Sarah removed her sunglasses and blinked at the sudden change in lighting. The small building housed worn chairs that looked left over from the ’70s and a few vending machines.
A man leaned against the wall next to the coffee machine. Thick hair the color of polished mahogany hung in soft waves nearly to his collar. He towered over most of the men—other than her, there were no women—in the terminal. Dressed in a long-sleeved black turtleneck that stretched across his broad chest, worn blue jeans, and heavy hiking boots, he radiated masculinity. Just looking at him made her throat dry and her pulse leap. She’d be in the backwoods of Alaska with him. Her body hummed at the prospect, and she struggled to keep her fiancé’s image foremost in her mind, though compared to this woodsman, a slick city lawyer had no chance.
Guilt assailed her. Just because she and Walt were having problems didn’t mean she should act impulsively. She could be professional. After all, she’d come out here to write her report on the impact of drilling on the environment. An impartial report, as her boss had reminded her time and time again with an implied “wink and nod.” She knew exactly what her boss expected to read. First, she’d gather the facts. Then, she’d write the report they required.
The man straightened. He gave her a long perusal, his shuttered gaze not giving anything away. His attention lingered on the thrust of her breasts against the faded oversized University of Mary Washington sweatshirt she wore, then down the length of her legs. He gave a slight nod at her hiking boots, as if she wasn’t completely without common sense, then with the leisurely stride of a man completely in control of his environment, he walked toward her. A hint of a smile crossed his chiseled lips as he neared.
“Sarah Doyle?” He held out a large hand.
She released the handle of her small suitcase and clasped it. His handshake was firm, but not overly so. Where his fingers touched hers, tingles shot up her arm. “You’re Liam?” She released his fingers.
He nodded. “Let me help you with that.”
“Thanks.” Sarah slid her backpacking frame from her shoulders, deciding there wasn’t any harm in letting him carry it to the vehicle. She’d carry it often enough if her plans to live out in the field bore fruit. “I appreciate that.” She grabbed the handle of her suitcase.
“The truck’s this way.” Without waiting for her, he easily lifted her gear, the muscles in his biceps bulging. Sarah tried not to notice, just as she tried to ignore the way his jeans clung to his rear. She had an engagement ring tucked in her dresser back home. She shouldn’t be looking at him this way. Damn Walt and his angry words. She sighed, knowing she’d have to make a decision one way or the other about his proposal. And right now, the fact that she’d taken off the ring and put it in her jewelry box spoke volumes.
She followed him to the truck, where he opened the door and helped her inside. Moments later, they were on their way.
Not one to chatter, Sarah watched as the scenery changed from the homes and small businesses designed to cater to the oil workers, to the sparse landscape. On the horizon, she thought she saw an elk, though the thought of wildlife so close to town seemed foreign to her. She’d read there were bears here. Both black bears and grizzlies, and a shudder wound its way down her spine at the thought of meeting them in the woods.
“Cold?” Liam asked. His voice sounded like Swiss chocolate. Just the sound of it chased the chill from her and filled her with liquid heat. Damn it, why was she so hot for this guy?
“I’m fine. Just a shock from the weather in DC,” she answered.
“I’ll bet. The lower 48 has nothing on us.” His smile flashed white teeth against his tanned skin. “The lodge is just about five miles from town. We’ll be there shortly.” He turned onto a gravel road, maneuvering the large quad-cab truck easily between ruts and larger rocks. True to his word, he pulled up in front of the lodge before much longer.
The two story building, built from stone and logs, rose from a flat plain around it. Liam pressed the garage door opener on the sun visor, and the door opened to reveal room for three cars, though one of the bays held an ATV and a snowmobile. A red jeep sat in the other parking spot. He pulled the truck in and stopped. Just as before, he held the door open for her and grabbed her backpack frame before she could protest, then led her into the building.
An open floor plan showcased a large living area with a fireplace and a kitchen with a spacious dining area. A short hall led to closed doors, and a wooden staircase led to the upstairs rooms. A balcony overlooked the living room with its large windows that looked out onto the Alaskan wilderness. Everything was polished wood with bronze trim, the leather couches and heavy bookshelves giving the place a masculine air. Sarah suddenly felt very small and very feminine.
“Let me give you the nickel tour.” He pointed down the hall, showing her the master bath, the closed door to his study. Upstairs, there appeared to be six bedrooms, with a couple more bathrooms. He showed her to a room close to the stairs decorated in a North Woods theme. “Don’t get too comfy. We’ll head out early tomorrow morning. I’ll be back in a couple of hours to take you downstairs for dinner. I’ve got some work to do.” From downstairs, male voices rumbled, and he listened to them for a charged moment before hurrying downstairs.
No sooner had he left than her cell phone rang. Sarah answered it.
“I trust you made it all right,” Ken’s voice crackled across the connection.
“Just got here. Everything okay?” She’d been given her instructions. She hadn’t expected her boss to call so soon.
“Yeah, fine.” Ken’s vo
ice shook. Sarah knew he lied. Something was going on. First this mission, her employer’s insistence that she not sway her report one way or other, when Ken knew the kind of work she did. In fact, he’d told her repeatedly that was why she was picked for this project. “Let me know as soon as you start on the report, all right?”
“I will. Don’t worry, Ken. You can count on me.”
“Good.” Muffled sounds of a hushed conversation filtered through the phone line. “I got to go.” The line went dead.
Sarah stared at her silent phone for a moment. It rang again.
“Don’t worry, Ken,” she said as she lifted the phone to her ear. “I have it covered.”
“Well I’m glad to hear that,” Walt’s voice sounded. “You made it all right?”
“Just got here.” She sat down on the bed, the comforter soft beneath her.
“So how soon can you wrap up your work and come back? I have an important function in two weeks. I’d like you to be there.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. They’d discussed this. “I have an open ended assignment, Walt. I’ll be here as long as it takes to get the job done.”
He guffawed. “Go out, take a look around and write your report. You’ll be home in a week.”
Sarah shook her head, feeling displeasure pull the corners of her mouth down. He didn’t understand. “I take my work seriously, Walt. I’ll be here as long as it takes.” From downstairs, she heard rustling. She needed to find out more about her host. Interviewing him would be the perfect place to start gathering information. “Good bye.” She disconnected the call. Later, she’d deal with Walt and decide just what she was going to do about him.
~* * *~
Liam sank into the leather executive chair behind his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he agreed to show Sarah around the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, it mostly was at the behest of people he couldn’t refuse. His father had just left to meet with them, no doubt to tell them that his son would be more than happy to follow their urging. Sanctimonious bastards. They stay in their hiding, giving out orders. They didn’t know how it really was. A memory of being trapped in a four-by-four Russian cell filled his mind, and for a moment, his breath stuck in his lungs. He was there, body trembling, weak from hunger and exhaustion, waiting for his tormentors to come and beat him again. He shook his head, and as quickly as it had come, the horrible memories receded.