Harry, over here!” Thompson yelled.
Through the fog, Jeffrey spied a line of dogs—looked to be twelve, maybe fourteen—hitched to a sled.
A beefy guy dressed in a regulation parka waved. “Storm’s on its way.”
Thompson stopped next to what looked like some kind of basket seat on the sled. Harry stood on board runners behind the basket.
“Get in,” Thompson ordered.
On closer inspection, the basket looked small. Too small for two people. “How do we do this?” asked Jeffrey.
Thompson made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a snort. “Now’s not the time to analyze options, city boy. Just get in.”
Harry laughed.
One of the dogs howled.
Jeffrey wished he were back in the plane. Suddenly it seemed far preferable to be risking death in the sky than death with a pack of dogs and two surly parka people. But as now wasn’t the time to be analyzing options or death, he swung one leg, then the other, into the basket and sat down.
Thompson stepped one jean-clad leg inside, then slid into a sitting position on Jeffrey’s lap. “Let’s go!”
A whip cracked. The dog team lurched forward, suddenly silent and all business. Harry yelled commands.
Thompson shifted, pressing against Jeffrey.
Before now, he had been stunned by the cold. Then by Mr. Toad’s wild plane ride. Followed by this adventure with a traveling dog team.
But nothing was as stunning as the feel of a curvy rump molded against his stomach and the undeniable roundness of a breast pressed against his cheek.
Thompson, he realized, was a woman.
2
THE DOG SLED PULLED UP in front of a rustic, oversize cabin and stopped. The lead Husky uttered a sharp whine of satisfaction and crouched low in the snow. Other team dogs started yelping and barking, some showing impatience with the restraint of the harnesses, some sniffing the air.
Amid the cacophony, the snow fell silently from a darkening sky in large, white flakes.
Cyd turned to Jeffrey. “Time to get out.”
But time played a trick on her.
It stopped.
Or maybe it had stopped minutes ago, somewhere on the sled ride from the landing strip to this lodge while their bodies had been molded together in this one-person basket. Yes, it had stopped then, wrapping the world around them, creating a place where only the two of them existed.
That’s when she’d tried not to notice how nicely his body conformed to hers. Tried not to admire his strength, or how his arm had wrapped around her, holding her close, as though protecting her.
Nobody, especially no man, needed to protect Cyd Thompson.
But she hadn’t budged from Jeffrey’s embrace.
And, if she were perfectly honest with herself, she still didn’t want to budge. Which irked her as much as excited her. Maybe it was because she was accustomed to fighting the elements and competing with the guys. Add to that her role as head of the household since her dad died, and Cyd Thompson was a one-woman force who bowed to no one.
But at this precarious moment, Cyd felt all those attributes turning on her. Sharing that tight space with Jeffrey, she’d felt his power, sensed his manliness. And dammit all to hell, the experience left her feeling…womanly.
He’s a city slicker, she reminded herself. Out to destroy your world.
She turned and boldly met Jeffrey’s gaze, ready to say something “rough around the edges.”
But she got lost in his eyes.
They looked like Jordan’s. A deep reddish brown, intelligent. But Jordan’s eyes didn’t flash with specks of green and gold. And Jordan sure didn’t look back at her the way Jeffrey did, with a mixture of surprise and interest.
Interest?
She shifted in the basket, too aware of his solid thigh muscle molded against her hip. A city boy with muscles? Her mind reeled with how he came by those…and worse, her imagination joined the free-for-all and flashed an image of what he probably looked like naked. All muscle and sinew and dark, curly hair…
City Boy. Big business. End of the world.
“I said it’s time to go!” she barked, grabbing the edge of the basket and blowing out a gust of air as though that would also blow out these crazy thoughts.
But she made a serious mistake when she paused and glanced into Jeffrey’s face again.
He still had that look of interest, but this time she also saw…amusement?
“What’s so funny?” she snapped.
He blinked in exaggeration. “Just wondered why you’re taking your time.”
“It’s cold.”
“But you live in Alaska. You’re used to it.”
He had a point. But before she could muster some sassy response, he spoke again.
“But I don’t mind if you want to stay wrapped around my body. I like it. It’s keeping me warm.” He grinned. A sexy, “gotcha” grin that did funny things to her insides.
Had to be the basket. Throwing two bodies into a space that was supposed to only hold one had messed up their equilibrium. Had created a world where body heat got mistaken for something more.
And that look in Jeffrey’s eyes told her he felt that “something more,” too. Time to get her footing back, literally. Time to take control, let him know who’s boss.
“Time to get out,” she said, or meant to say. Her words had escaped on a breathy stream of air. And she may have forgotten to say the last two words. Which meant she’d just whispered a suggestive, “Time to…” to this hunk of big-city hot love.
Heat surged to her cheeks.
Jeffrey’s eyes did a slow perusal of her face, taking it all in. Then he nodded. A slow, knowing nod. Damn the man. Not breaking eye contact, either. As though willing her, no defying her, to admit that this sizzling, out-of-control moment was happening.
Well, she’d break this crazy moment, now.
Maneuvering herself to get out, her cheek brushed against Jeffrey’s. Ooooo. He smelled deliciously spicy and musky. No northern guy smelled like that.
Stop smelling, keep moving.
She hoisted herself up to a crouched position. When the hell is he going to break eye contact? It was a matter of pride, but she wanted
