Desire in the Arctic (2 page)

Chapter 2

William Redding looked around the cavernous, elaborately furnished, conference room as if he were a country hick instead of what he was, a former Special Ops Marine with a glorious past. Since retiring from the military a few months ago, self-doubt was the new enemy for him to conquer.

He caught a glance of his reflection on the ultra-polished table. Did he blend in enough with the Teleworld crowd? He had constructed today’s outfit with the same precision he’d used to carry out his missions. Only this special operation would be the most important of them all. Hopefully his dark-gray suit, white Oxford shirt, and highly polished black Cole-Haans had him looking as corporate as possible and give these New York TV exec types what they wanted to see.

He had spent a good portion of his military life living among the Special Ops elite. But deep down he was anything but one of them. He would always be simply Will Redding, or “Redd” as his Special Ops buddies—heck, even his mother—called him. Just a poor boy from down home Texas.

Not knowing where, or to whom to turn to get cash when he retired, Redd had called up the most successful ex-military guy he knew. A guy who had retired with unbelievable success. A guy Redd could trust and would definitely understand where he was coming from.

The two had performed countless secret operations together during their service in Special Ops. The lone wolves bonded surprisingly well. Though both men had tried to stay focused solely on their missions, their compatriot relationship often crossed into friendship. This was not surprising because they shared so much in common. In fact, if Redd had grown up two towns over in Texas’ Northeast, he would have gone to the same elementary school as his military buddy—Colin Brandt.

Redd sat his butt down in one of Teleworld’s leather conference chairs as he recalled his conversation with Colin. Colin had tried repeatedly to dissuade Redd from trying out for the second season of the Gladiator. But when push came to shove, Colin relented and called up some hot shot executive over at Teleworld—a Mark somebody—and recommended Redd for the “job.”

Redd understood Colin had tried to look out for him. He’d warned Redd that Teleworld played dirty. But ultimately his friend understood Redd needed the money. Or Redd would never be able to fight the demons that plagued him. Redd could only hope that as he pushed to fix the future, he could forget his past.

A hard knock on the conference room door let Redd know it was time to take the first step of this dangerous journey. He jumped to stand “at attention,” immediately regretting his ingrained reaction. The many years he’d served were hard to erase. His mind always snapped back into a military M.O.
What’s next, Redd? Are you going to stand and salute when the executives walk in?
He wanted to smack his forehead in a Homer Simpson “D’oh!”

Ironically, in his Special Ops’ days, he had been one of the best at blending in with the enemy. His naturally dark color helped him fit in perfectly anywhere from Afghanistan to Italy. His ability to speak four languages rounded out his chameleon effect.

Unfortunately, here at Teleworld, he was going to stick out like a sore thumb. Being retired seemed to mean he was back to being a country boy. Worse, he was surrounded by New York City’s powerful, connected, well-to-do, corporate elite.

Redd believed in the military’s core values—honor, patriotism, selflessness, and bravery. Teleworld, however, clearly believed in only one value—money.

Years ago, Redd would have scoffed at Teleworld’s materialistic goals. But lots had happened between then and now. As for today, Teleworld’s silent motto of “money above all else” suited him fine. He needed a million dollars of their money. Badly. Not that he’d be keeping it for long. Because desperate people with medical issues and no health insurance depended on him. People who were way worse off in life than he could ever be. Unless you counted deep emotional scars from losing his sister. And from one of the worst diseases of all.

Redd knew his desire to protect had been deeply instilled from the Marines, if it hadn’t already been etched into his soul. His own life experience had shown him just how important it was. He would never be able to shake it off. Frankly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to, despite the fact the desire was making him crazy.

Redd gave his tie a sharp tug, hoping to straighten its appearance. The tie he chose was a blazing red—a subliminal message for Teleworld’s executives to think “Redd.” He cleared his scratchy throat. “Come in.”

The door finally opened and the corporate inquisitors walked in. Redd hastily prayed his answers would dazzle them. That he’d be allowed this one last mission. Even if it was Mission Impossible.
Choose me, damn it. Let me take my chance on this crazy show.

Ana felt her jaw hit the floor hard.
What did Mark just say?

Mark, on the other hand, looked a lot less disturbed. He looked . . . what? Amused? Enthusiastic? Or maybe his expression was simply a reflection of his true self—delusion.

“You’re new to this position, Ana. Competing on
The Arctic Gladiators
is a great way to prove to Teleworld you are serious about wanting to perform.”

Her eyes went as round as saucers.

Mark grinned. “Are you up to the challenge?”

Despite her tension, Ana burst out laughing. “Isn’t that the Army’s slogan?”

“Dunno. Here’s another slogan for you:
Don’t let the company down
. If you do, it will not bode well for your new role, or your career here.”

Ana felt the blood drain from her body. “But why me?” she asked when she regained control of her voice.

“Demographics. Our audience targets people in their mid-twenties. Young people like you are the ones with the greatest buying power.”

Ana started to protest, but Mark held up his hand. “I know there are a zillion women in their twenties who would love to be on the show. People who would want a shot at winning a lot of cash, or a chance for fame. But you, Ms. Ana Davis, bring certain traits to the table. Traits we want.”

Ana stared at him in stunned silence as Mark ticked off her attributes. “You’re off-beat. Energetic. Extroverted. Plucky. You like to rise to a challenge. Best of all, you radiate a pleasant
girl next door
persona which woman can relate to. And women are what our advertisers want to target, so drawing them into the show will bump up our advertising rates.” Mark coughed and fidgeted with the top button of his suit jacket. “Women tuned into
The Evergladiator
last season to ogle Colin Brandt. But they won’t want their husbands to watch this season if it means their ogling the female co-star. So we needed to cast a woman who’s got undercover good looks, an appearance women won’t resent and yet will still attract men.” Mark let go of his suit button. “As you know, more viewers means more advertising dollars.”

Color bloomed across Ana’s cheeks. They felt flaming hot. “Uh, thanks. I think. But I still don’t see why I—”

“Your best asset,” Mark cut her off, “is that you’re a real New Yorker. You’ve got absolutely no wilderness or survival skills. At all. Born and bred Manhattan—”

“Brooklyn,” Ana quickly corrected.

“Manhattan.” He shot her a sharp look. “The classier, the better. We’re going for drama here.” Mark slipped into his announcer’s voice. “A clueless, well-to-do city slicker teamed up with brawny, survival-savvy schnook, battling their way through the Arctic together. Do these teammates each win a million dollar prize? Or do they literally die trying?”

“
Mark
!”

“Oh, right. Sorry. Don’t worry, we’re just going to say that for dramatic effect. You’ll be perfectly fine, I’m sure. William can protect you, no problem.”

Ana’s right hand clenched into a tight fist. One quick slug to Mark’s smug face, Brooklyn style.
If he wants drama . . .

She shook herself out of her indulgent daydream. The most violent she’d ever been was to tell off Jennifer, Teleworld’s former receptionist. And even then Ana hadn’t been too harsh, considering how mean Jennifer had been to Stephanie. Ana had never even lifted a finger against anyone, let alone a fist. Although Mark would be a wonderful first . . .

Mark was still prattling away. “Do you remember,” Mark asked, “when Stephanie was stranded with Colin in the Everglades because of that freak storm? We hadn’t even begun taping the show yet.”

Well, duh. How would I ever forget a thing like that?
“Yes, of course I remember.”
Where is Mark going with this?

“Well,” he continued, “it gave me an idea. Maybe I could deliberately create that kind of tension in the show. A man and a woman deliberately stranded together. Praying for their ordeal to end. The damsel in distress doesn’t know a single thing about basic survival. She’s a modern, independent, upscale city woman, who finds out she needs to lean on our Gladiator for courage. She’ll need him for his strength.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “And she’ll need him for nights filled with se—”

“Mark, I’m warning you, if you say the next word, I will walk out right now. I am a producer, not a prostitute.”

Mark grinned. “I was going to say
security
.”

Ana felt her eyes narrow, her words come out in a hiss. “Not. Funny. At all.”

“Yeesh, do you think the pressure of this job is getting to you? You seem very tense.”

“Get to the point, Mark. Assuming you can make one. So far, the last few minutes have been nothing short of nuts.”

Suddenly, Mark’s demeanor was all business. “Okay. You know Stephanie very well. And you know what she went through. I’m asking you to be her for twelve days.”

Mark’s words were magical. A gift. Because at long last, Ana’s desire to be Stephanie was finally starting to ebb.

The company always came up with the craziest TV show concepts. And not “crazy” in a good way—“crazy” as in “life-threateningly dangerous.” All in the name of having an even crazier person try to win the million-dollar prize.
And now that crazy person will be me.
Every day she understands a little more why Stephanie quit.
“Mark, I know nothing about the outdoors!”

“Right. That’s the point.”

“Won’t it be dangerous for me?”

“Were you not listening to me a moment ago? You’ll have the Gladiator there to protect you.” He waved the picture of William Redding around as if a mere picture would mesmerize her. Make her forget her common sense and good judgment. The problem was, the picture worked.

“I’ll agree to meet him Mark. And I’ll consider doing the show, but that’s all. I’m not going to commit right now.”

“Sure, sure. Think about it. But you know, Teleworld really appreciates it when their employees go the extra mile for them. Especially when they think they’ve done a lot for the employee. Say, for instance, an employee who got promoted from the secretarial pool to a plum producer position.” Mark’s voice was almost singsong as he got up to leave.

Ana felt the blood drain from her face.
Excellent. My pallor will soon blend in with the Arctic’s snow-capped mountains. My very own personal camouflage.

Mark got up to leave their plain conference room, no doubt to go to his grandiose office. A king headed toward his regal throne. Who was she to challenge the monarch? It was either comply with the royal decree or become one of the impoverished masses. And then the next lord who would toss her out would be her landlord.

Ana gulped. She had around five thousand dollars saved up. It wasn’t as if she’d been in the new position long enough to have saved any more. As a glorified secretary, she’d been paid peanuts.

As if to confirm, Mark commented as he walked out the door, “I’ll make sure Teleworld gives you the same life insurance policy we gave Stephanie.”

Gack!
She needed life insurance to do the show?
She pictured herself being mauled by a grizzly.

Beaten and distressed, Ana put her head in her hands.
I thought I was going to make something of myself. Prove my competence to everyone. Instead I’m supposed to go on a fool’s mission, risking my life to impress people who don’t care about me. I must be crazy to even think about it.

A few minutes later, Ana was back in her new— A.K.A. Stephanie’s old—office in no better an emotional state than she was before. A glance at the clock told her it was high time for lunch. Good timing, since she needed an escape from Teleworld. Getting fresh air would hopefully calm her down. Eating certainly would. For somebody of average size, weight and height, she had an enormous appetite. When she was stressed, comfort food was her go-to. Hours in the gym was the only deterrent to packing on more pounds. It was always a balance as to whether to indulge in tasty meals now and suffer on the treadmill later, or utilize self-control and punish herself less at the gym. Of course, giving up food was suffering, too. Either choice wasn’t ideal.

Lately she’d been forced to restrict her meals. The hours she’d been putting in at the job had severely limited her time to work out. Giving up her favorite comfort foods, macaroni-and-cheese, Ben & Jerry’s, and pastrami-on-rye just when she needed comfort most, was torture.

Today she was going to suffer no more. Especially after hearing the news Mark dumped on her. If ever there was a time to have a pastrami-on-rye, now was it. Regardless of the fact a few extra pounds had already managed to make headway. Her long, flowing skirts thankfully had elastic waistbands.

Mark’s directive to buy power suits made her cringe. In addition to having to dress in a new style, she’d have to shove her ever-expanding waistline into something with a zipper.

Screw the diet.
I need a sandwich.
With this determination in mind, she picked up her purse, tossed her smart phone inside, and left her office. She passed by her old desk, outside in the hallway.

“Brenda, I’m heading out to get lunch. Do you want anything?” Ana asked her brand-new executive assistant.
God, it’s so weird to have someone doing my old job.
Weirder still was her learning how to manage someone, divide up responsibilities and distribute work. It was harder than she had thought. Stephanie had made it look so easy. She’d have to get used to all this, including Brenda, quick.