disbelief came a disturbing thought. Had she wrangled information about who he was from Joe the bartender and followed him here? Was she determined to make him a part of her newspaper story? Or even worse, was she one of those materialistic women who, after finding out about his wealth, determined to add money from his bank account to her own? A barking dog snapped him back to the present and the urgent issue at hand. She was in trouble. He could rescue her. His questions and suspicions would have to wait.
“Stay still. I’ll help you.”
The cavern was fairly steep, but Atka, who not only often worked alongside his fishermen but worked out regularly, navigated it with no problem. He reached the wounded stranger, quickly assessed her legs and ankle, and believed the ankle badly sprained but not broken.
Her eyes fluttered, opened and widened in surprise. His heart melted a little more.
“Moving you is going to hurt, but you’ve got to get out of the elements to someplace warm and dry.”
“I’m...it’s...”
“Shh. Save your energy, Teresa. Don’t try to talk. I’ll make a splint and secure your ankle as much as possible.”
He found a sturdy limb, pulled out his knife and smoothed its surface. Then he reached beneath his leather jacket and sweatshirt to his undershirt and ripped off the bottom. Returning to her, he gingerly yet quickly stabilized her leg as much as possible.
“Put your arms around my neck. I’m going to lift you.”
She did as he’d asked. Picking her up was effortless. Though she was covered from head to toe in denim and sheepskin, he sensed her curves, imagined soft skin.
“Ah-h-h-h!” She wrapped her arms tighter, burying her head in his neck against the pain.
Atka mentally kicked himself for daydreaming. Now was not the time. Yet something in his heart shifted in that moment. I will ask the spirit guides to help you. Children soon come. Ridiculous. Improbable. Highly unlikely. He dismissed the thought of his grandmother’s words proving prophetic. Pure silliness. Her being here was coincidence. Wasn’t it? Or was it something more treacherous? It wouldn’t be the first time a woman had used business as a way to try to get close to him. He’d ignored them, but was well aware of last night’s subtle flirtations. Maybe their conversation hadn’t been as off the record as she claimed. Or maybe she was going to try to use what he’d shared to a more personal advantage.
He searched the area for signs of life. Any other time, someone he knew would be passing by, on their way home or to the grocer. Tonight, there was not a moving car or another person in sight. She shivered. He glanced down as she covered her ears with the end of her scarf, noted her delicate finger and painted nail visible through a hole in her woolen gloves. Snagged on something during the fall, he imagined, even as he wondered how she got here alone. This woman didn’t look like someone who worked. She looked well kept. Maybe not even a writer at all, but here with her millionaire boyfriend on business, out to have a little fun. The immediate surge of jealousy surprised him. The scent she wore assailed him. Without thinking or asking, he headed away from town and to his cabin, less than a mile away.
* * *
Even through her haze of agony, she’d noticed. Strong jawline, covered by the shadow of a two-day-old beard. Full lips. Shocking dark blue, almost black eyes. The face of the man she thought she’d never see again. Atka. Like a guardian angel he’d rescued her from a literal depth of despair. Here she was, in the wilderness, being carried by a near stranger to God knew where. Yet inexplicably she felt safe, almost peaceful. Even though her ankle throbbed. Relentlessly. She doubted her rescuer and thought it broken.
“Where’s the nearest hospital?” she managed to say through chattering teeth.
He pulled the woolen scarf she wore over her mouth. “Keep covered to stay warm. We’re almost there.”
In truth, the Kanakanak Hospital wasn’t too far away. But still in the throes of an unusual possessiveness and, yes, even a bit of selfishness, Atka alone wanted to tend her. The thought of another man touching her smooth, sun-kissed skin was something he didn’t want to contemplate. Plus, he knew that one look at her by the resident doctor, a newly transplanted playboy popular with the ladies, and the angel might have more than an ankle to mend.
He reached his one-room sanctuary and hurried inside, placing her gingerly on the couch that doubled as his bed. He removed her coat, noted her soaked clothing and quickly covered all but her injured ankle with several quilts, used a pillow to elevate the swollen ankle, then retrieved an instant ice pack and a bottle of ibuprofen from a kitchen cabinet. In another cabinet was a bottle of water. He reached for it and the first-aid kit and returned to Teresa’s side.
“Just lie back. Try to relax and focus on your breathing, not the pain. We need to get that ankle on ice as quickly as possible. Removing your boot and sock will hurt a bit. I am sorry.”
Teresa grit her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. Soon, one tear and then another made its way down the side of her face. She’d not made a sound, yet something caused Atka to look at her. He set the boot he’d removed on the floor and reached a hand to the side of her face. “I am so sorry, papoota taya. The ice and medicine will help lessen the pain.”
His touch was tender, his expression sincere, stirring something within her heart. He was unlike the boisterous alpha men she usually went for, yet the strangely strong attraction she felt toward him could not be denied. Around him again for only a matter of minutes but Teresa was sure she’d never met anyone quite like him. She was also certain that she didn’t want this to be the last time they spent together. A feeling so inappropriate that Teresa began to wonder if during the fall she hadn’t also hit her head and knocked the sense right out of it.
Atka abruptly pulled back his hand and refocused his attention on her injured foot. It was singularly the most painful yet erotic experience she’d ever had. He removed her sock and held her injured foot as if it was made of glass. His touch was soothing to the point of healing. They’d just met the night before, yet she was experiencing ludicrous imaginings that they’d known each other a long time, weird feelings of closeness and a sense of completeness. Had she taken the pill, she could have blamed the medicine. But it still lay in her hand. The water remained on the table beside her. Still, the fall had obviously dislodged logic and common sense from their secure place in her brain. The scrambling had also dulled her senses, because now, with the tight boot off and the ice pack on her foot, the throbbing was considerably less. All this, and she didn’t even know his last name. Atka. The fisherman. The sexy Alaskan who was making her think crazy thoughts about staying in Alaska.
He stood and walked to the fireplace. Teresa watched his calm, economical movements, his tall frame moving with the grace of a dancer. He seemed refined, worldly, yet built a fire in what she swore was under a minute. Her brother Warren, the cowboy of the family, with five wood-burning fireplaces in his home, couldn’t beat that time. Who are you and what are you doing to me?
“How did you find me?”
Atka stood, dusted bits of kindling from his hands as he turned around. His face was a mask. “I could ask that same question.”
She frowned, and not from pain. “You think I went looking for you at the bottom of a ditch?”
“That obviously happened in the midst of your search for...whatever.”
“I was searching for the perfect shot! I was trying to capture the—my camera! Did you see it?” She frantically looked
