the camera. I’ll take two of these and see if I feel better. If not, we can go when you get back.”
* * *
Atka jumped into his Jeep, returned to the spot of her fall, found the camera and drove back to his home. It took less than five minutes.
He walked in shaking snow from the camera half-buried when he’d arrived. “Here you go. If the moisture from the snow hasn’t got inside of it, you should be fine. How do you feel? Better?”
He looked at her with a hopeful look on his face.
“That was pretty quick. The ibuprofen have hardly had time to work their magic. I can stay for a little while. Like I said before, I’m not afraid of you.”
The smile was barely perceptible. “That’s good to know. It’s natural that you’d want a doctor to examine you and reassure you that nothing is broken. Are you sure you don’t want me to take you now? I’ve still got on my coat. The Jeep is warm. I can have you there in no time.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to leave because you’re afraid?”
A bigger smile, then. Amused. Predatory. “My dear papoota princess, I am not afraid of anything.”
Their eyes met. A second passed. Two. Ten.
“Then I’ll stay.”
One sentence. Three words. They would prove to be a game changer.
He wasn’t afraid, but she made him nervous. This in and of itself wasn’t unusual. Atka was shy and introverted, homeschooled until his high school years with only a handful of romantic liaisons in his twenty-eight years. He’d known Mary since childhood. Once he’d returned home from college and found her a widow, dating had come naturally and been easy. This feeling Teresa evoked was more than awkward discomfort brought on by a case of nerves. Suspicions aside, there was something about this woman that moved him at a deep level and seeped into his soul. A part of his soul that had never been touched. Add the fact that it had been months since his last sexual encounter and it made it difficult to view this sexy city girl with raven hair splayed across the arm of his sofa sleeper as an injured patient he needed to tend, instead of the caramel vixen he wanted to ravish and keep here, locked away for his pleasure.
He wanted her. But he’d long learned to hide his feelings behind the facade of a strong jawline and unreadable eyes. He did so now. Took in her words, gave a brief nod and turned toward the kitchen area.
“I’ll make tea,” he said, reaching for a mug and a container filled with what looked to be loose tea. “This is a mix of teas and medicinal herbs concocted by my grandmother. Not the best-tasting brew in the world, but I guarantee you’ll feel better.”
“I feel a little better already.” Teresa eased herself up to a sitting position. “The ice pack and ibuprofen are easing the pain.”
Atka returned to the living area and sat in a comfortable chair, the base of which was made from oak logs. The back and bottom cushion were covered with a geometrically patterned fabric boasting bright primary colors, a welcome splash of color to the browns, blacks and grays of the other sparse furniture and decor.
Their eyes met. Silence fell. An awkward yet electric silence tinged with sexual tension and something else...something that later both would realize they had tried without success to define.
“For the record,” Teresa began, running a hand through her tresses, “I did not follow you here. Bristol Bay is home to the largest salmon fisheries in the country. I told you last night I would be coming here.”
“That was after I told you I was a fisherman.”
“Yes, but you didn’t tell me you fished in Bristol Bay! Look, dude, I don’t know who you are, or who you think you are, but I am the last woman on earth who’d go traipsing across Alaska looking for a fisherman, for God’s sake, just because his conversation was engaging and he bought me a meal. I’ll admit that you’re fine, and I didn’t know they made them like you in the wild frontier, but when you left, I had no idea where you’d gone, where you’d be going or when you’d get there. Nor did I care. Okay?”
His silence was deafening, broken only when he asked, “How do they make them here?”
“Really?”
“I don’t know what you mean by that statement.”
“Aw, the way you’re looking at me I almost believe you. TDH, dude.” He shrugged. “Tall. Dark. Handsome. Don’t act like you don’t know, because I’m sure there are many women who’ve told you.”
“Women say many things for many reasons.”
“Well, this woman only says what she means because she wants to be understood.”
“Why’d you say fisherman as though it’s such a bad thing.”
“No offense, Atka. Like I said, my grandfather, father, a couple brothers and several cousins would all be more than happy to join you on a boat. I’d be waving goodbye from the dock before heading to the spa.”
He nodded. “I see.”
“I hope you do. I’d never chase after a man. Either for professional or personal reasons.”
His eyes softened as he gazed at her. “For the record, it’s the last frontier.”
“What?”
“You called Alaska the wild frontier. It’s the last one.”
“If you say so, but it looks wild, too.”
He said nothing. Just crossed his arms and leaned back.
“This is weird.”
“What, lying in the home of a man you’ve known less than twenty-four hours in a small town probably thousands of miles from your home? What’s so strange about that?”
“Exactly.” She shivered, and pulled the quilt up to her neck.
“Then you’ll find what I’m thinking even more disconcerting,” he continued, his eyes narrowing, “though my intentions for these thoughts are absolutely honorable.”
She eyed him with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. “What are you thinking?”
“That you really need to get out of those wet clothes.”
The statement was punctuated by the crackling of a log that split and tumbled into the flames.
Spielberg couldn’t have directed a more perfect moment.
“Honorable, huh?” She frowned, but her voice was teasing. “Sounds like a line to me, and a tired one, at that.”
He smiled broadly now, revealing a set of perfect pearly whites, which, against his tanned skin, fairly sparkled. As did his eyes. “I thought you might. You’re the type of woman
