man scowled and pointed at the door. Casey frowned. Maybe she should have asked a different question.
As she made her way down a long corridor devoid of life and through another doorway, she prayed she would run into friendlier natives who could help her find the loading dock, or at least tell her where to find the ice sculptor.
In the shadows between boxes stacked to the ceiling, the only light streamed from a small window in a thick door of—if she had to guess, she’d say a giant freezer. She dropped her bag onto a box to give her shoulder a brief reprieve and examined the digital thermometer next to the door. Fifteen degrees. Definitely, it was some sort of cold storage room. She trembled.
This place was a veritable maze, and though as a seasoned reporter she hated to admit it, now she was lost.
From behind, a hand clamped her shoulder.
Her heart ricocheted. She jerked around to find a man with piercing blue eyes staring back. Though the look on his face was anything but friendly, relief swept through her.
For a fleeting moment, she feared Will Tannin had caught up with her. In almost the same manner, Tannin had grabbed her from behind and detailed how he planned to torture then kill her. Her throat constricted at the memory.
She’d fled Oregon that night a week ago.
But this man didn’t have the look of a crazed killer. She should know. Her breathing slowed, if only a little.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
Taken aback at his guarded tone, Casey struggled for words. “I’m sorry, I—”
“You shouldn’t be here. Let’s go.” He glanced over her shoulder at something behind her, a sense of urgency in his eyes, and grabbed her arm. “The loading dock is off-limits to visitors. It isn’t safe. You could get hurt.”
Ah, so she’d at least found the loading dock. A small comfort.
Maintaining his hold on her, he tried to lead her away.
Casey stood her ground, attempting to tug her arm free. “Hey, you don’t have to drag me.”
“You’ll follow me out?” He took his time slipping his hand away, looking into her eyes for assurance that she would obey.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” This was weird. Could Tannin have sent him? Dread stalked through her.
No. This insane fear of Tannin had to stop right now.
Again, he glanced behind her, deep lines of concern creasing his brow. She followed the guy into the corridor and then into an empty office. She figured he was escorting her somewhere “safe” to talk.
Once inside, she turned around to face him. He was closing the door. “Wait a minute. What are you doing?”
He ran a hand down his face. “The question is who are you and what were you doing trespassing?”
She opened her mouth to reply, but he had her there. “My name is Casey Wilkes. I’m a reporter here to do a story on the ice sculptor. That’s all.” She cringed inside. Since she was trying to fall off the grid, she’d have to remember to use her recently assumed pen name, Carson Williams.
While he appeared to contemplate her words, she studied him. If they’d met on different terms, she might have found him attractive. Scratch that. Regardless of the terms, he was good-looking. Thick dark hair, troubled but intense blue eyes and a strong clean-shaven jaw. She’d experienced firsthand that he was strong and muscular. Heat crawled up her neck.
Casey blew out a breath.
For a moment, she thought his expression might have softened but it hardened again. “A reporter, huh? That still gives you no right—”
“I’m sorry. I got lost and ended up on the loading dock. Why don’t you just ask me to leave?”
“All right. Would you please leave?”
Something about his actions weren’t tracking, but Casey didn’t want to leave. Not really. She’d come here for a reason. She stomped to the door and placed her hand on the knob.
He put his hand over hers, sending a warm shudder through her. She yanked it back.
“Not so fast,” he said.
“You can’t keep me here.” Her defiant words mocked her. He could, actually, and that scared her.
This time his gaze softened. “Look, if you want an interview with the ice sculptor, all you have to do is ask.”
Casey felt like an idiot. He was right, and she wanted to explain, to start over. “The receptionist sent me back to look for him. But he wasn’t in the studio, so …”
His mouth quirked in a grin and he crossed his arms, leaning against the door. She’d bet that was on purpose. “So, you thought you’d explore. What could it hurt, right? You might uncover the scoop of the century.”
She hadn’t gotten where she was today … Queasiness swirled inside. Where exactly was she today in her rising career as an investigative reporter?
Running for her life.
Still, his playful tone managed to bring a smile to the corner of her mouth. “Something like that.” She wanted to kick herself. Oh, I am not responding to his flirting! Nix this.
He thrust his hand out. “I’m Jesse Dufour, the ice sculptor.”
Casey stared for a full fifteen seconds, she was sure. “You’re the sculptor?”
“That’s right.”
Her hands flew to her hair, and she ran her fingers through, making sure it was in place. She hated herself for primping in front of him.
He smiled, revealing not one, but two dimples in each cheek. She needed a diversion and started to reach for her bag. “My purse. I must have left it …”
He frowned a little too much for Casey’s comfort. What was going on here?
“Promise me you’ll stay here, and I’ll give you that interview. I’m going to retrieve your bag.”
She opened her mouth to ask him what was so dangerous about the loading dock. Why did she get the feeling he was sneaking around? Then she thought better of it, offering him a soft smile. “I promise.”
That seemed to reassure him because he sent her a quick nod and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Mr. Jesse Dufour had just tangled with the wrong woman. The wrong reporter. Except, she couldn’t go there. Not now. Not after everything that had happened after writing that exposé about Will. At least not until the trouble she’d stirred up had died down.
She’d come here today to meet the company’s ice sculptor, arrange an interview, a simple story to fill newspaper space. Still, in her experience, simple stories weren’t always that easy and this one had already grown complicated. She’d proven
