Stepping out onto the porch, he speared the note on the nail beside his door, then turned. And froze.
Before him, a plane silently barreled down toward the mirrored waters of the lake.
What the hell is she doing?
As he watched, open-mouthed, the wings tipped left, then right, as if out of control.
Holy shit.
Paralyzed, he stood there feeling impotent. No engines. Which was why he hadn’t heard her approach. No way in hell Jesse was landing without an engine for the fun of it.
He dropped his backpack and ran to the edge of the lake. There was nothing he could do but pray to a God who’d completely forgotten about him as Jesse skidded hard on one pontoon, water spraying up in a rooster tail behind her. Her wing dipped dangerously close to the water, and for a fleeting moment he was sure it was going to catch. And then everything would be over. The plane would break apart as it somersaulted and sunk to the bottom of the lake.
He tore off his flannel shirt, leaving him in a white tank top, and toed off his boots. She was going to pay for it if he had to take a cold swim to save her ass from a watery grave.
At the last second, the plane tipped left and then splashed down on both pontoons. She was coming hard and fast. He backed up a step and then sprinted toward the cabin as it became apparent she was running out of lake.
The float plane beached itself on the bank in front of his cabin. Sand spat everywhere, metal wrenched, and birds squawked overhead. Sloan’s body shook like the fall leaves coloring the landscape around him.
A few seconds of silence as everything righted itself, and then Jesse swung open the door to the cockpit and stumbled out onto to the pontoon.
“Holy freaking shit! Did you see that?” She collapsed onto her knees, kissed the ground, her arms outstretched as though she wished she could hug the earth. She caught sight of him standing there in shock. Jumping to her feet, she ran for him.
Sloan didn’t have any time to move other than to brace himself as she vaulted into his arms. He caught her, stumbling back a few steps as her arms tightened like a vice around his neck.
“Holy shit! I can’t believe I landed that! Did you see that? Tell me you freaking saw that?”
“Hard to miss.”
“I landed that sucker!”
“In one of the worst landings I’ve ever seen.” And she’d scared the shit out of him.
She pushed out of his arms, and he tried not to miss the feel of her body tight against his. “Are you kidding me? That was the best landing ever! I’m walking, aren’t I?” She spread her arms to the side, twirled, and strutted around like some drugged up peacock.
“Yes, that you are.” He hid his smile, though he badly wanted to let it rip. He had to be cautious around her. She was dangerous. He didn’t know how or why, just that she fell into the category of hand grenades. He never ignored a gut feeling. It had saved his life more times than he could count. “What the hell happened?”
“I just crash landed and I’m alive to talk about it. Do you know how often that happens? Not often enough!” Clearly she didn’t need his answer.
She skipped away from him, and he couldn’t help admire her enthusiasm and her form.
God, what a body.
One that filled his dreams more often than it should. Granted, he hadn’t had a woman in a long time. He didn’t even want to think about how long. And the only woman he thought about, fantasized about, was Jesse Bohen. Then again, she was the only woman he saw on a semi-regular basis. Which didn’t make her any less sexy.
Blond, five foot six, with breasts that would more than fill his large hands, hips that would cradle him as he lost himself in the ecstasy her curvy body promised. He didn’t know how he knew this, but he knew she could take him.
God, he had to stop. He had to get away from her before he…before he grabbed her, tossed her down to the ground, ripped her clothes off her, and buried himself deep inside her.
Shit. What was wrong with him?
He’d had it bad before, being alone, secluded in the wilderness like he was. He understood that he had needs, but really to focus them all on Jesse? She wasn’t his type at all. For one, she was too damn happy.
Insanely so right now. Understandably. She’d just successfully crash landed her plane. Wait…
“What’s wrong with your plane?”
“Not sure. Engine quit. I’ll know more once I dive in and see.”
Good. Chances were she could fix it. She had to fix it.
“I might need to bunk here until I figure out what’s wrong.”
Oh, hell no.
“You can’t stay here.” Panic knifed in. She wouldn’t be safe around him. Especially with the thoughts he’d been having about her for the last four months. Four months? Right, try since the moment he’d met her five years ago.
“I might not have a choice.” She cocked her head at him. “Relax. Something’s probably up with the fuel.”
“You still can’t stay here.”
“Where do you suggest I go then?”
Shit. She had him there. “Let’s figure out what’s wrong and get you out of here.”
“Good idea. Believe it or not, I don’t relish spending the night with you either.” Her face suddenly heated, and she swiveled away from him.
Yeah, he didn’t want her staying. He didn’t want anyone staying overnight, but the thought of her sleeping with him for the night brought all sorts of salacious thoughts to the surface. Not actually sleeping with him. Shit. See? She had to leave. “What’s wrong with the fuel?”
“Probably something simple like a clogged filter. I don’t know. If I knew what’s wrong I would’ve stayed on The Edge—the stop before yours—and not have crash-landed here.” She pulled her hair back from her face. “Tell me you saw me land like that, because it was freaking awesome!”
“Yeah, I saw it.” And it had scared him more than he liked to admit. “You’re bleeding.”
“Hmm?”
“Bleeding. Your head, it’s bleeding.”
She wiped at her hairline, and her hand came away smeared with blood. “Wow, would you look at—”
She hit the ground in a dead faint before he could catch her.
Chapter Two
“Damn it, woman.” Sloan checked her pulse and found it strong, if not a little fast. He did a quick assessment and didn’t find any other injuries other than the cut on her forehead. Swearing, he gathered Jesse into his arms and carried her into his cabin.
He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He no longer saved people. And bringing Jesse into his lair, so to speak, was not a good idea.
She’s bleeding, you asswipe.
Bleeding, right, but that shouldn’t have made her pass out. Oh God, what if she was really hurt? She could be suffering brain damage right now, bleeding on the brain, and the only way out of here was dead on his beach.
Really not a good analogy.
He laid her on his bed and looked down at her. Her impossibly long dark lashes made crescent shadows against her ashen cheeks. Carefully he smoothed her hair back from her face and investigated her head wound. It wasn’t deep enough for stitches, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a concussion. She must have hit her head when the plane struck the beach.
He gathered water, a clean rag, and bandages before returning to the bed. Laying out the medical supplies next to her, he prayed she didn’t have a concussion.
Her eyes fluttered open. Perfect clarity reflected back at him. “What happened?”
“You crash-landed—”
“Seriously, that was a great landing. Epic.”
“That aside, you cut your forehead and passed out.” He raised two fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Two. I’m fine, really. I just don’t…do well at the sight of blood. Well, my blood. I can handle other people’s.” She shrugged.
“One of those, huh?” He didn’t know why, but that made her kind of adorable. He’d come to know her
as a tough-as-nails woman. And yet the sight of her own blood was her weakness? He’d figure it would be something bigger like bears or wolves. Or even him. He scared a lot of people, pretty much everyone one he knew and with good reason. But she’d never seemed scared around him. Pissed off, irritated, but never scared.
“Guilty.”
“All right,” he said, wiping at the blood that had started to congeal alone her hairline. “Pretend you’re not bleeding until I get you cleaned up. I don’t do well with anxious females.”
“I’m not an anxious female.”
“Says the one who took one look at the blood on her hand and keeled over.”
“Hey, I also landed a freaking airplane on water with no power.”
“Impressive.”
“Man, I wish you had a cell phone and had filmed it.”
“Glory hound?”
“No. I just want to prove that I did that. The flyboys back in Homer are going to shit their pants. It would have been better with video proof.”
“You’re proof that it happened, and I didn’t have to fish you out of the water.” Or worse, drag her dead body out of the lake. He’d done enough of that in his lifetime.
Her sky-blue eyes were huge, her skin pale, still recovering from her life-harrowing experience. He’d been there. He knew what was running through her mind, what she could have lost.
Everything.
Hell, what he could have lost. Shit.
His hands trembled. He didn’t want to feel anything for her. She was his personal shopper, mail carrier, and delivery person. That was it. Yeah, without her, life would be more difficult, but not impossible. Someone else could take her place. So why did he care that she would be gone if she hadn’t been such a skilled pilot?
Why did he have this over-powering need to clutch her to his chest and never let her go?
Jesse pushed against him. “Crap! I gotta call Cin! She must be insane with worry.”
“Let me bandage your head first.” He held her down to the mattress, his hands on her shoulders. She looked up at him with those wide blue eyes and he had the sudden urge to lean down and kiss her.
As soon as the thought entered his mind, he released her. “Go! You should inform her first.” He didn’t want more people storming his beach. Knowing Cin, the Coast Guard were already on their way.
“No, you’re right. Bandage me up. Fast. If I see blood, I’ll be toast and you’ll have to talk to Cin.”
He shuddered. Cin was the last woman on earth he wanted to talk to. Her cold shoulder could keep the polar ice caps from ever unthawing, regardless of global warming. Anytime he had to power his satellite phone and talk to her, she was a grade A bitch. She hadn’t treated him that way before, but something had changed since the beginning of summer. “Just give me a few seconds and I’ll have you cleaned up.”
“Hurry.”
He went to work washing the wound, adding Neosporin, and covering the cut with a couple of bandages. Most likely she’d bruise. All the while, he tried not to think of how great she smelled, sweet and tart like raspberries and mint, how soft her golden hair felt twined around his fingers, or her flawless, sun-kissed skin.
“Are you done yet?” she asked.
Not by a long shot.
“Yes.” He quickly stood and moved away from her.
“Thanks.” She dashed from the room and out of the cabin.
“Wait. Slow down!” He rushed to follow. Damn, she was quick.
“I’m fine.” Then she wobbled on her feet and would have tumbled off his front porch if he hadn’t caught her up in his arms again.
“Damn it, woman, take it easy.”
“Woo, I’m kinda light-headed.” She didn’t fight his hold, and even leaned her head against his chest.
“How’s your stomach? Queasy at all?” He started to worry that she’d taken a harder hit to the head than he’d originally thought.
“Starved, actually. I could eat a whole pizza right now.”
“It’s the adrenaline crash. The bump on the head probably isn’t helping.” He carried her to the plane. The door was still hanging open on its hinges from where she’d stumbled out of it. Inside, a phone squawked.
“Oh crap, Cin is going to kill me.” Jesse climbed from his arms into the cockpit. She reached for the satellite phone under her seat. On the ground, the plane’s radio wouldn’t reach the office back in Homer, as there was no line of sight. “Cin, it’s me, Jesse. I’m fine. I’m on the ground all in one piece.”
“What took you so freaking long? I have the Coast Guard ready to take off.”
“Call them off. I’m good. Seriously. Let me look over the plane, and I’ll give you an update as soon as I have one.”
“Good. I don’t want you stuck out there with that asshole. You know what happened last time.” Jesse lowered the volume, but Sloan had already heard her.
“What’s she talking about?” His voice thundered in the small cockpit and made her jump.
Jesse held up a finger to signal him to wait. “Cin, give me an hour or so, and I’ll have a better idea of what’s wrong.”
“One hour. If I haven’t heard from you by then, I’m sending in the Coast Guard, got it?”
“Got it. Relax, everything is going to be okay.”
“That dickweed better not give you any issues. You can tell him—”
“Roger that, Cin.” Jesse interrupted. “I’ll call you soon.” She hung up. “Sorry about that. She’s kind of protective.”
“And hates my guts. Why?” He’d wanted to know the answer to that for many months now.
“Cin, well, she’s a complicated woman with many moods. Why don’t we get your supplies unloaded so I can check over the plane and fly out of here?”
He held her gaze until hers flickered, and she looked away.
Did he want to push? Something nagged at him to bust that door wide open, while another part of him wanted that door bolted and welded shut. He stepped back off the pontoon and gave her room to climb down out the cockpit, but stayed close enough in case she stumbled.
“I’m fine, really.” She looked up at the clouding sky. Raising her hands to pull back her golden hair, she bumped her bandages. With a wince, she planted her hands on her hips instead. “You work on unloading your supplies while I check the fuel filters.”
His gaze followed hers. Those clouds weren’t puffy and harmless. They promised snow.
Chapter Three
Jesse checked each filter on the wing. The first came away clean, the second showed signs of water in the fuel line. That could definitely explain the engine stall. If her altitude had been higher, she might have gotten the plane restarted. She needed to give a heads up to Cin about the last batch of fuel. This time of year was hell on condensation build-up in the fuel, what with the constant heating during the day and freezing at night. It happened. But she didn’t want something like that to ever happen again. It shouldn’t have happened this time. Certainly not here.
Her previous stop would have been preferable to being stuck with Sloan overnight. A night spent at The Edge of Reason Lodge would have offered a comfortable bed and a five star meal cooked by Nicole. Plus it had been too long since she’d caught up with Mel. She needed to hear all about her pregnancy.
No, stuck here in bush country with no one but paranoid writer Erich Sloan was not how she wanted to spend her Friday night. Nothing comfortable about the man, though the place he’d built wasn’t bad. She was always surprised at how enterprising he was.
Sloan kept sending her darker looks with each pass he made with the supplies. What did one man need with all this? There were some questionable items on this last list. With winter inching closer every day, she wouldn’t be delivering until the lake had iced over enough, but that didn’t explain the weirdest order to date, and she’d filled some crazy lists for him. The jumbo box of condoms had to be right up at the top, though.
Who the hell was he having sex with out here? The moose? They were about
as ornery as he was.
But really, condoms? And what did he need with the feminine pads, nail polish remover, and Chanel perfume? Was there a woman up here? And if there was, where was she? Did he have her hidden away, tied up somewhere in the woods? She’d never seen another soul in the five years she’d been flying in here. Even that unforgettable four-day weekend in June when she’d—
Come on, stay grounded. If he had another woman it wasn’t any of her business. Though Jesse had this undesirable urge to scratch her eyes out, whoever the hell she was.
Sloan hitched a fifty-pound bag of sugar over one shoulder as if it were nothing, and then added the box of cornmeal, yeast, and malt extract under his arm. Jesse had purposely kept the items in one box. Like she didn’t know they were the ingredients for making moonshine. But then winter was coming, and it was long, lonely, and cold. Who was she to judge? She just hoped he was careful and didn’t kill himself. She didn’t want to fly in here one day and find him dead of alcohol poisoning. She’d already saved his life the last time she’d seen him. Once had been enough.
He looked good. Really good. Her whole body sighed in agreement. She shouldn’t be looking, but he’d been in bad shape when she’d flown in here the first of June. Now, he was the picture of a robust man in his prime. Very prime. The white tank top showed off his muscled arms and torso. Muscles that came from carving a home out of the wilderness. Not huge and bulky muscles honed from a gym, but more lethal and appealing. She wanted to run her hands all over him.
He paused on his return trip, his brow cocked. “Something wrong?”
“Are you aware you have no shoes on?” Bare feet on a man were another of her turn-ons. Didn’t help that he had this wild-man thing going with the thick beard and ponytail. It wasn’t a good look for most men, but on him, holy Moses.
Sloan fidgeted and looked as though he’d forgotten he was barefoot. “I tossed them off when I thought I’d have to swim to save you.”
“You were going to jump into the lake after me?” Maybe he wasn’t such an asshole. Well, except that one time. Didn’t matter that he hadn’t remembered what had happened between them, he’d been the biggest asshole in the whole state of Alaska, and she wasn’t ready to forgive him yet, if ever.
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