Alaska Heart (14 page)

I cupped his face in my hands and dropped a kiss on his forehead. He rested his head on my stomach and caressed my nipple with his index finger. Again, my stomach protested in hunger, and Dale placed his palm over it.

“Okay, okay. We heard you.” He planted a kiss on my stomach and inched me back so he could stand. His ass looked fantastic as he padded to the closet. He pulled two green robes from a hook on the back of the closet door. He donned one, sloppily tying it around his waist and held the other one open for me to slip into.

“You own two identical robes?” I tied the robe closed and relished the scent of him that lingered around the collar.

“I don’t enjoy doing laundry, so sometimes I buy doubles of things I wear a lot. That way I don’t have to wash as often. Lazy, I know.” He held his hands out sheepishly, turning his charm to ultra-high, nearly lethal. “C’mon. Let’s get some food in you.”

We made our way back to the kitchen. While Ram’s famous grilled chicken soup warmed on the stove, I buttered a couple slices of bread, and Dale built a fire in the living room. We were on the couch, satisfying our appetites in front of a roaring fire in no time at all.

The fireplace spanned floor to ceiling and wall-to-wall. Rounded river rock encompassed the entire far wall of the great room, making me feel as if we were outside. Pine paneling like the bedroom covered the other two walls and instead of a fourth wall, the living room spilled into the dining room. The table in there looked as if its top had been sliced directly from a tree, and it rested on four thick birch trunks. A bench lined one side, two wooden chairs on the other.

“Did you make that table?”

“Dad and I did. I hardly eat at it, though. I usually eat in that chair over there.” He pointed to a cushiony recliner opposite a sizable TV. “Or at Ram’s Den.”

“I usually eat on my couch while I’m working,” I said. The soup and Dale’s robe warmed me so well the thought of prancing around naked didn’t seem as foolish any more.

“Something about sitting at a dining room table alone doesn’t feel right.” Dale took a speculative drink of the wine he had poured for both of us.

“I know what you mean.” We both shot a glance toward the table. If I sat there with him, it would feel more than right. Probably feel perfect. An image of my apartment in New York flashed into my mind. I had to go back in nine days. I would sit alone to eat my dinner. I didn’t want to feel the loss I would feel if I sat at Dale’s table with him now. I had to protect myself. I was falling fast, and it was foolish. We’d had sex. That was all. No big deal. It wouldn’t go any further than this.

I sipped my wine and finished the last of Ram’s delicious soup. Everything that man cooked tasted divine. Dale and I cleaned up from our meal, and as I dried our soup bowls, I rested my back against the kitchen counter. Gypsy and Zynk were curled together in a huge basket in the corner of the room. A pile of limbs and fur. I couldn’t tell where one began and the other ended.

“They look comfortable.” I put the bowls away in the cupboard Dale had indicated. He turned to look at his dogs.

“Peas in a pod, those two.” His eyes softened as he watched them, their sides moving rhythmically with each slumbering breath.

“They mean a lot to you.”

“They’re family. I’ve raised those two since they were pups.” He shot me a smile that made my knees a little wobbly. “And Gypsy here, she’s my Guardian Angel.”

“Gwen at the library mentioned Gypsy saved you.”

“That she did.” Dale let the water in the sink drain, and then he led me back into the great room to the fire. We sat across from one another on the fluffy rug in front of the hearth.

“I’ve run in other races besides the Iditarod. In one of them, my sled and two of my wheel dogs fell into thin ice, me along with them.”

My hand flew to my mouth at the thought of getting wet in the middle of an Alaskan winter. Dale took my hand in his and stroked it.

“Yeah, it was exactly as cold as you’re imagining it to be.” He shivered as the memory of it came back to him. “The shock of the water temperature paralyzed me. I couldn’t pull myself out. I couldn’t think. I struggled to hold the towline, and the two wheel dogs howled like crazy.”

Dale took a breath and pulled his robe tighter around him. I shifted closer, wanting to warm him. He patted the rug between his legs, and I backed into his waiting embrace. The feel of his breath on the back of my neck gave me goose bumps. He scooped my hair out of the way and kissed my exposed neck. I pushed back against him, attempting to get closer, and his arms tightened around me.

“Gypsy somehow gnawed through her harness at the front of the team,” he continued. “She bit onto my jacket and pulled me from the water. Pulled the other two dogs by their collars. I managed to hoist the sled and roll onto it with the wheel dogs. Tugging the towline with her teeth, Gypsy and the team pulled us into a small town where we got help.”

“You could have died.”

“Escaped with frostbite in these two fingers.” He wiggled the pinky and ring finger of his left hand. “I don’t have any feeling in either of them and—” He directed my attention to his left foot. “Notice anything wrong there?”

I’d been too busy enjoying other parts of his naked body earlier to notice any irregularities in the overall masterpiece, but there it was...or wasn’t. “You’re missing a toe!”

“The little guy didn’t make it. Turned as black as night and had to be removed. Pretty gross, huh?”

“There’s nothing gross about you, Mr. Iditarod.” I turned my head and brushed my lips against his.

“I’m not perfect. Not like you.” He massaged my shoulder with his strong hand, and I was so in danger of losing consciousness under his touch.

“I’m not perfect.” I giggled when his slight beard tickled my neck.

“I don’t see anything out of place. And, believe me, I checked. Thoroughly.”

“Right here.” I lifted my chin so he could see underneath. “See it? Two snakelike scars?”

Dale squinted in the dim light of the fire and the single lamp he had on in the living room. He ran his finger along the underside of my chin.

“Oh, yeah. I feel it. What happened?” He covered the scars with his lips, and I lost my ability to speak for ten whole seconds.

When I recovered, I said, “ATVing accident.”

His look of concern morphed into one of amusement. “Like speed, do ya?”

“Uh-huh. I was buzzing through rough terrain when I hit a hole. Flipped the whole damn ATV over on top of me. I slammed face first to the ground where a sharp rock impaled my chin.”

“Ouch.” Dale’s eyebrows lowered in sympathetic pain.

“Worst physical pain I’ve ever felt. Needed plastic surgery to put things back where they belonged.”

“Now that’s gross.” Dale maneuvered me around so my bottom was in his lap. “They did a good job though. You look wonderful to me.”

He loosened the belt on my robe and slipped his hand inside to caress my breast. The fire’s heat and his massaging touch hypnotized me. I was more relaxed than I had been in years.

A piece of my brain, though, didn’t quit. That nagging piece that refuses to throw logic out the door. That responsible piece that brings order to blissful chaos.

“Dale, I should…” His lips silenced me as he nipped at the back of my neck, his hand still exploring beneath my robe. I grabbed his wrist to stop him. “Dale, I should get back to my hotel.”

A groan rumbled from his throat as he turned my head and kissed me. He maneuvered the robe off my shoulder. “Too bad there’s no one to take you back.”

Something wet touched my nose. Something wet and furry. I opened one eye, but then clamped it shut when a pink tongue sloshed across my cheek.

“Gypsy.”

She woofed softly, her blue eyes bright in the sliver of sunlight streaming across the bed. I scratched her muzzle as she burrowed closer to me. Unfortunately, Gypsy was my only company. Both robes were draped over the foot of the sleigh bed and that conjured delightful images of a naked Dale on the loose somewhere in the house.

“I have to get up, Gypsy.” I gave the dog a final pat before slipping from the blankets. As I searched the room, gathering my discarded garments from the night before, a laugh from the doorway startled me. Dale leaned against the threshold, fully clothed in gray sweatpants and a green, long sleeved T-shirt that said
I Live to Sled
across the front.

“Cute.” I pointed to the shirt.

“Thanks. My nephews gave it to me when I won.” He looked at the shirt. “I suppose the sentiment is true, but—” He crossed the room to stand in front of me, pushing aside my clothes to capture me in his arms. “I’m beginning to see there’s more to life than sledding.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. Fortunately, Dale’s lips kept me from saying anything. I wasn’t being smart about this whole thing. Totally unlike me. I usually reasoned everything out. Proceeded step by planned step. I couldn’t seem to do that where Dale was concerned. It felt as if I’d known him my entire life. Everything was so comfortable with him.

I needed to talk to Meg. She would know what to do.

“You okay?” Dale’s voice brought me back to the present.

“Yep,” I said, maybe too enthusiastically.

“Good. The shower is yours. Get dressed and come downstairs for breakfast. I went all out.” He beamed from ear to ear, and I melted a little more inside.

Get a grip, Cormac. Jeez!

“It smells good,” I said.
You smell good.

“That’s because it
is
good.” He tapped my nose with his index finger and pivoted on his bare heel. I had to take several deep breaths before I could make my way to the bathroom. I was unraveling. Fast.

I wandered to the upstairs bathroom—another gorgeous room in this gorgeous house owned by a gorgeous man. Slate tiles in varying shades of gray and maroon covered the floor, halfway up the walls, all of the shower stall, and encased a Jacuzzi-style tub. An old-fashioned tin basin sat in a dark wooden barrel and beneath a pewter faucet to serve as a sink. Long bundled twigs surrounded a rectangular mirror hanging above the sink. Plush maroon towels hung on two hooks next to the shower. Two matching mats covered the floor in front of the shower and at the base of the wooden barrel sink. A wooden, armoire lined the wall opposite the shower and tub. In a private corner of the bathroom, the royal throne awaited guests, but even it looked rustic.

The shower water cleared my head a bit, and as I dressed I made some decisions. First of all, I was in Alaska to write a career-changing article, not fall ridiculously in love with a musher, perfect as he was. Secondly, at the end of the two weeks—such a short time—I had to go back to New York, back to my life there. One that possibly involved a sizable promotion and boundless career opportunity. Finally—and this one made my insides hurt—I could not spend any more time with Dale.

It would have been an accomplishment if I’d stood firm by those decisions, but as soon as I walked into the kitchen where Dale flipped a pancake as if he were born to do that very thing, my resolve went to hell.

“Impressive.” I sat at the high barstool behind the kitchen island as Dale slid the pancake onto his plate.

“Me or the pancake?” As he blinked, his lashes kissed his cheeks.

“Both.”

His lips curled up as he poured orange juice into two glasses and set them in front of the plates. He shut off the griddle and sat on the barstool next to me.

“Blueberry syrup? Made it myself.”

I slid my plate over to him, and he drowned my pancakes in the blue-brown syrup. It oozed over to a mound of scrambled eggs and two fresh strawberries.

“Enough?” Dale asked.

“Is there such a thing?”

“My thoughts exactly.” He let an extra dab dribble from the mason jar before dousing his own plate with the syrup.

My hunger surprised me. Then again, I’d exerted more energy yesterday hiking through Denali and romping with Dale—several times—last night, so a little refueling was in order.

As we ate, a small TV under one of the kitchen cabinets broadcast the morning news. Probably should be paying attention to it, because I was supposed to be getting the complete Alaskan experience while I was here. I paused in my eating long enough to hear the weather, a story about a moose attack, and that Fairbanks police were hunting down a killer.

“At least you know it wasn’t me.” Dale elbowed me as he drank the last of his juice.

“Do I?” I looked at him with mock suspicion.

“I was with you all night, Alanna.”

“I’m a heavy sleeper. Especially after trekking through the wilderness and, well…after our other
activities
.” I nudged his bare feet with my own. “You could have left me in that warm, comfortable bed, snoring with Gypsy for a couple hours last night and killed several people. How would I know?”

“I’m not a serial killer.” He kissed me, his lips tasting like blueberry syrup, before he carried our dishes to the sink.

“This syrup could be poison.” I held up the mason jar as if studying it in the light.

“I used it too, Alanna.” He rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips, looking adorable in his sweatpants, all comfy and soft.

“A trick.” I narrowed my eyes at him.

Dale tugged on my wet hair and brought his lips to my ear. “If I were a serial killer, I’d spare you, so stop worrying.”

The only thing that worried me was what I was feeling for him.

****

On the ride back to Moose Point, we learned from the radio that four bodies had been found over the course of the last three days. All of them stripped naked and left on the banks of the Chena River. The victims were women in their late twenties to early thirties. Each of them had been strangled and marked with a tattoo on the forearm. A wolf head with a ferocious, gaping jaw and blood-soaked teeth.

“How awful,” I said.

Dale tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “You should be careful while you’re here, Alanna.”

“I’m from New York, Dale. I’m always careful.” I dug in the pocket of my jeans. “Besides, Meg gave me this, so I’m all set.” I held up the multi-tool as if it were a dragon-slaying sword.