saw a polar bear, how would she stop wanting to see polar bears? Or eagles. Or manatees. Or deserts.
She’d gone for a clean break—and for corporate stories—for a reason.
‘I’d like to see a bear,’ she breathed on a puff of mist before hurriedly adding, ‘Though not out here.’
Again that tiny mouth twist. ‘So take a few days to look around.’
Easy for him to say. It wasn’t Will’s heart aching at the potential of this place. It wasn’t his soul trilling to be standing here, knee-deep in lichens and moss. It wasn’t his lungs aching with so much more than the coldness of the air around them.
Will wasn’t the one who had to leave Churchill the moment her number came up.
She’d already felt what it was like to be banished from somewhere that had rapidly started feeling like her soul home. Why would she set herself up for that again?
‘I’m on deadline for the Zurich piece. If I’m not back in the studio within a few days, this story is going to get cut and aired without me.’
And then who knew what angle it would take? There was no shortage of producers who would love to steal the feature slot she’d fought for. A slot that was scheduled just eight days from now.
Will frowned. ‘There’s every chance you won’t be, Kitty. You need to be prepared for that.’
She chewed her lip. ‘Maybe I can cut a rough from here on my laptop, and file that as a starter…’
‘I have the best comms outside of the Port because of my rescue work,’ Will went on. ‘There’s a satellite set up out back of the cabin. If you need to be talking to your network in China or sending them rough cuts this is the place to do it from. Mi data es su data.’
The man certainly knew how to appeal to a woman’s sense of duty… But it didn’t stop her chewing her lip.
‘Or shoot something entirely else.’
‘I’m not sure the business types at CNTV will be queuing up for an exposé on the hidden delights of the fifty-eighth parallel.’
‘So don’t do it for them, do it for you. Call it research if you truly can’t bring yourself to just relax and enjoy a few days of downtime.’
Relax? No, not while Will was around. She wouldn’t be making that mistake again.
Old Kitty would have chased whatever story excited her and would have told it in whatever way she wanted and then sold it to whoever had the most sympathetic vision. And if no one wanted to buy it she would have whacked it online, free, for the world to enjoy. Because the story was king back then. Money came much further down the list. Back in her idealistic, self-determined, passionate freelance days. Back before she was employed by particular networks to tell particular kinds of stories with particular kinds of agendas for particular kinds of audiences…
Back before New Kitty was born.
But wasn’t there some saying about making hay while the sun shone? Or the snow fell, in Churchill’s case. She was in the sub-arctic, cut off from the rest of the world, forced to take some time off from her competitive, all-consuming career. If there was a better opportunity to take a few days out of being Action Kitty to just remember how it felt to be Hobo Kitty she really couldn’t imagine it.
And keeping busy…now that definitely held a heap of appeal. But she made a last-ditch effort to say no.
‘Your plane practically fell from the sky, Kit. As excuses go that one is both solid and on public record. You’re stuck here for days, and insurance is picking up the tab…’
Kit.
Time had done nothing to dispel the fluttering of her heart when he used the diminutive form of her name. A presumption he’d made five years ago and she’d never been inclined to correct. She’d come to like it. Wait for it, even.
The reality was she was stuck here until tomorrow, if not later. Given how much work she yet had to do on the footage still on her hard drive, she’d be spending most of it in her room, tinkering on her laptop. If she stayed another day—or, God forbid, days—she could fill the time with research for a future story. That would keep her busy and out of Will’s way.
‘I guess that does open up a certain opportunity.’
‘And accommodation is free,’ he added.
‘Not if I find somewhere else to stay.’ Which she would, because he wouldn’t want her here any more than he had in Nepal. Will was just doing what was expected when a jet liner fell out of the sky in your back yard.
He turned in front of her and stopped her progress. ‘You won’t find anywhere, not for a few days. Besides you don’t need to relocate. You’re welcome to stay in my spare room as long as you need it.’
She stiffened her spine and locked gazes. ‘I was “welcome” in your home once before, remember?’
And there it was—streaking up his jaw out from under his scrappy beard—a subtle flash of red. The first real evidence that he remembered how they’d parted all those years ago.
Which meant he’d probably be on the lookout for repeats. Which meant she’d be on eggshells for ever, trying to give him nothing.
Everything in her screamed caution not to set herself up for more hurt. A single night was one thing…
‘I really don’t want to be a bother.’
His lips twisted. ‘I’m sure we can give each other plenty of room in a forest this big.’
No, Kitty. You’re no bother.
It’s fine, Kitty. No trouble.
Relax, Kitty, it’s out of your control.
On the scale of denials, Will’s effort was non-existent. Still…maybe picking up after herself and keeping out of his way would be adequate repayment for his dubious hospitality. And her story would get filed. And she’d have some fun reliving the old hobo days.
Win-win.
‘Okay. I guess it wouldn’t hurt for me to see a few things while I’m here.’ She watched him, carefully. ‘You know…research.’
The look he gave her then was uncomfortable in the way only Will could make it. As if he saw right through her flimsy excuses. As if he knew exactly how he made her feel and how she would feel until she collapsed, emotionally wrung out, into a plane seat and flew far from here.
As if he knew her better than she knew herself.
Pfff. This was Nepal all over again.
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Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
