Mountains Apart (Mills & Boon Heartwarming) (12 page)

She met his baffled stare for a few long seconds.

He shook his head as if he couldn't quite believe it. “That is one of most ridiculous things I've ever heard. Seriously, Emily—top five on the most-ridiculous-of-all-time list.”

She opened her mouth to argue and then shut it. Right then it did seem pretty clear to her that it probably was near the top of the over-the-top list of extreme habits she'd adopted in her quest for corporate perfection.

“Yeah, okay, you might be right about that,” she conceded. She tugged on the ends of the scarf. “I'm scratching that one starting right now....”

* * *

E
MILY
 
HAD
 
NEVER
 
ridden on a snow machine before. She stood still as Bering helped her put on a helmet and some goggles. Then he strapped a pack onto the back of the vehicle and climbed on.

“Okay, come on,” he said, waving her over.

“Um, what do I do?”

He looked over his shoulder and patted the seat behind him. “Hop on and hold on.”

She stepped closer, hoisted her leg over the side and settled on the seat behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and Bering started the engine. They took off across the snowy landscape. The wind felt like liquid ice where it swirled under her chin, so she pulled the scarf up higher. Bering's large form blocked most of the wind, and surprisingly, she soon realized she wasn't cold. And the ride was sheer exhilaration.

She loved every minute of it, and after about forty-five minutes, Bering slowed and turned onto a narrow path between the trees. They traveled for several more minutes and then stopped as they neared what appeared to be the edge of a cliff. A tidy-looking cedar-planked cabin sat off to one side. A set of stairs led up to a deck that wound around it, all of which appeared to have been recently shoveled of snow.

“Okay, here we are,” Bering said and cut the engine. Emily climbed off. Bering did the same and removed his helmet and then hers. He grabbed her hand and began trudging across the crusty snow.

He stopped suddenly. “There, look.” He pointed at the river below, and Emily immediately saw what he was pointing out. A moose, no—she saw two moose. Emily squinted toward them and realized that one of them was actually on the opposite side of the ice-encrusted river. Neither animal bothered to lift a head to even glance their way.

“Doesn't the sound of the snow-thingy bother them?”

“Nah, they're used to it. I come by here quite often on animal surveys.”

“Really?” she said.

“Yeah, it's part of my work with the Department of Fish and Game.”

“To watch moose?”

Bering nodded and added, “And other critters that frequent these parts.”

“Like what?”

“Like caribou and bears and wolves and foxes and various kinds of birds.”

“Grizzly bears? Of course there are grizzly bears out here. Why didn't I think of that? They're on your brochure....”

Bering grinned at her obvious discomfort. “Don't worry, they're hibernating right now. They won't be out for another month at least, not till the spring. The sows come out with their cubs and I tell you, you've never seen anything cuter than a bear cub. Have you ever seen one?”

“Um, no,” she said and silently hoped that she never did.

“Man, are they cute,” he repeated. “And you've never seen anything meaner than a mama bear protecting her cub—except maybe a moose.”

“A moose? You're kidding, right?”

Bering shook his head. “Absolutely not. They're vicious when it comes to protecting their calves. Remind me to tell you some stories. Come on.” He motioned forward and headed toward the cabin. He produced a key and unlocked the door.

They went inside and Emily looked around the cozy interior. Off to the right there was a small kitchen with a breakfast bar that separated it from the dining area. She saw two doorways, and Bering pointed to one and told her it was the bathroom and the other a bedroom. Straight ahead there was an overstuffed couch and two easy chairs. There was also a telescope on a tripod, which angled down toward the river below.

“I'll be right back,” Bering said and exited out the door.

A few minutes later he came back in with a load of firewood piled high in his arms. He dropped down to one knee and placed it next to the woodstove, and before long he'd produced a roaring blaze. Emily was amazed at how quickly it began to warm the interior of the small cabin.

She commented on it as she peeled off her jacket and laid it on one of the chairs. Bering did the same.

She looked out the window to see if she could still see the moose. “Hey, what's that?”

Bering walked to the window and peered over her shoulder. “Ah, I was hoping they'd be back today. That's a wolf. I love wolves. To me, they symbolize so much about Alaska—wild and tough, imposing and beautiful...”

She thought about the button on her scarf. She started to ask him about it but he had leaned over and was adjusting the lens of a spotting scope that was mounted on a tripod in front of the window. “Here,” he said, “take a look.”

Emily looked through the lens. It seemed so close...almost as though she could reach out and touch it. She could see its frosty breath as it sniffed around the base of a tree. She could pick out the gray-and-brown colors in its fur and was spellbound by the way they swirled and blended together. In an instant, she was completely lost in the sight, and her fingers itched for her sketch pad.

“Where are the rest of them? I thought wolves liked to run around together.”

“They do. But they also run around solo sometimes. I recognize that one, and the rest of his pack is down there somewhere. They had moose for lunch yesterday, so if we're patient, we'll probably see more of them coming in for leftovers.”

“You recognize him?” she asked.

“Yep, that's CL-42—
Canis lupus
42 or, as I refer to him, Bob.”

“Bob?” she repeated. She studied Bob for a moment and then asked, “How can you tell for sure it's Bob?”

Bering quickly explained the characteristics that made him unique.

“What do they eat besides moose?”

“Caribou, birds, voles, squirrels, hare, beaver and around here they eat salmon, too.”

“Of course,” she remarked drily, “even the wolves like seafood in Rankins.”

He laughed. “Wolves are actually a lot more opportunistic than most people realize. They hunt, but they also scavenge a lot. Because we have so many salmon spawning in the rivers around here, they will munch on them just like the bears and the birds do—easy pickings for growing puppies.”

As they talked, several more wolves did indeed appear, and in only a few minutes Emily could easily identify one individual from another.

Bering then began regaling her with stories about the protective nature of the mother moose. And by the time he finished telling her about the mom who treed the bow hunter and then proceeded to stand vigil for ten hours until help finally arrived, Emily had a new respect for the awkward-looking animal.

Then she became totally absorbed in wolf-watching while Bering prepared a simple meal.

“Hey,” he said sometime later.

Emily started and turned toward him. “Sorry. I've got my very own
4-D animal documentary
going on here. This is amazing. You actually get paid for this?”

“Yep,” Bering said. “There's a little more to it than this, but yes.”

“Amazing,” she repeated. “And don't make fun of me for being a city slicker, but the wolves are so cute it's difficult to imagine how vicious they can be.”

“Cute, huh? Are you actually admitting then that there is more to our enclave than ice and snow?”

“Hmm, I suppose,” she teased.

Bering leaned over and tilted the scope, turning it away from her. “In that case, you probably don't need this anymore, then?”

Emily reached over and placed her hand on top of his. “No, wait, wait, wait. That's okay. It's not really
that
bad. I mean, I can suffer through it. It's not like there's anything else to do....”

“No, I'm sorry I forced this on you. First the fish and now the wolves... I can only imagine how boring it must be to a cultured sophisticate such as yourself. I'll just—let me just get this out of your way.”

“All right, all right, you win. I admit it. I'm enthralled. With wolves. And moose. And in the snow no less. There, are you happy?”

Bering smiled. “Yes, I am—especially because I know how difficult it was for you to admit it. Just wait until this evening.”

Emily's eyes widened with surprise. “What?” she asked, slightly breathless. “We're going to be here tonight?”

“Yes, is that a problem? Don't tell me you have more campaigning to do? We're in the midst of a cease-fire, remember? I get the whole day.”

“I remember, Bering,” she retorted playfully, “and there's always campaigning to be done. But no, it's not a problem.”

The whole day?
Emily liked that. There was such an easiness about being with him. Even when they were seemingly at odds, it was usually fun—teasing and exciting and yet somehow comfortable.

She was so used to being in work mode, but Bering somehow shifted her out of that effortlessly. Probably because there was so much depth to him—he loved his work, obviously, but he was so much more than his job. That was all Emily felt she had ever been, and she was coming to realize that it wasn't what she had thought it would be. She wanted to be more than her job, too.

“Good,” he said with a long, slow grin. “Lunch is ready.”

“Good,” she returned and added her own smile. “I'm starving. What are we having?”

“Clam chowder, ham sandwiches, smoked salmon and apples. How does that sound?”

“Well,” she replied wryly, “I like ham.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Are you going to argue with me about lunch?”

“I don't know,” she said. “Are you going to make me eat something weird?”

“Have I forced you to eat anything weird yet?”

“Yes,” she said. “You have. I saw a picture hanging on the wall at the Caribou yesterday and Crab Johnson informed me that it was a halibut. I never would have taken a bite of that fish, Bering, if I'd seen how ugly it was first.”

CHAPTER TEN

N
OW
B
ERING
 
WAS
 
TELLING
her about the college internship he'd done in Alaska's far north studying polar-bear genetics. Emily found it fascinating. Or she would have, she was sure, if she could actually concentrate on what he was saying for any length of time. She couldn't stop thinking about how good she felt—relaxed and stress-free—and how long it had been since she'd felt this way. She couldn't recall. The entire day so far had been great—the snow-machine ride, the cabin, the wildlife. But she knew it was Bering who really made the difference. It wouldn't have mattered what they'd done, she suspected; it would have been like this.

“...and that's how we tag the polar bears,” he said, finishing his story.

She took another sip of her coffee, which Bering had made on the woodstove top with a percolator. She had watched in fascination as the pot had hissed and bubbled and a mouthwatering aroma had quickly filled the cabin. It was piping hot and Emily thought it was the most delicious coffee she'd ever had. It seemed ridiculous that she often spent five dollars for a cup of coffee back at home—coffee that didn't even compare to the richness of this frontier-style home brew. The thought made her smile. Almost everything seemed different here, she was coming to realize, in a good way.

“Bering, thank you again for bringing me out here. It really is... It's incredible.”

“I'm glad you like it.”

“I suppose this is part of the job for you, though, huh? Showing tourists like me around?”

Bering smiled and turned toward her, sliding one arm along the back of the couch. “Sort of, but you are much more fun than most of the clients I cart around, I can assure you.”

Emily raised a skeptical brow. “Really? Laurel told me you have some pretty interesting and, uh, high-profile clientele.”

“Laurel exaggerates.”

“No, she doesn't. She's an excellent reporter.”

“That's true. She is. We've had a few celebrity types, I guess.”

“You don't seem too impressed.”

“Clients are all the same to me. I mean, I treat them all the same. I try to give each and every one the absolute best wilderness experience that they ask for. And every guest gets the same amount of respect and privacy. I really don't think about what they do for a living while they're here.”

“I believe that about you.” And she did. She couldn't imagine there was much superficial about a person that would impress Bering.

“Good. It's true. So I should also tell you that this really isn't part of the job.”

“What's that?”

He pointed back and forth between them. “Coming out to my cabin—I don't bring clients out here. It's only for family and friends. I have other cabins for clients.”

“Oh.” Her heart picked up its pace. “So...” She felt as if something was melting inside her as he stared into her eyes. Her blood seemed to warm and a tightness swirled in her stomach. Attraction, yes—she'd felt that almost since the beginning—but it was so much more than that. She felt content, yet edgy and excited at the same time. She couldn't believe how addictive the sensation was becoming. She wished she could feel it all the time. Was that even possible?

What would it be like to spend every day with a man like this? No, not a man
like
this, she corrected herself, but
this
man in particular.

* * *

B
ERING
 
WANTED
 
TO
 
kiss her. He'd been thinking about it since she slipped that scarf around her neck. Who was he kidding? He'd thought about it long before that. Had resisted for so many good reasons...but suddenly all those reasons why he hadn't, why he shouldn't, flew right out of his mind.... The way she was staring at him couldn't be anything but an invitation. And after all, they were in the middle of a truce....

He found himself leaning toward her, studying her face, trying to read her emotions, which seemed, incredibly, to be mirroring his own. She wanted this, too; he was sure of it. He watched her eyelids fall as his lips neared hers.

“Cease-fire,” he whispered as he slowly closed the rest of the distance.

He slipped the fingers of one hand around the back of her neck, entwining them in her silky hair. The other curved around her shoulder. She scooted closer and wrapped her arms around him. He groaned quietly and lost himself in the kiss, in the feel of her soft lips against his, in her eager response.

Bering wasn't prepared for the flood of emotions that were overtaking him. It wasn't just his body telling him he wanted her; it was his heart telling him he needed her. And that was something he'd never felt for any woman. This was what he'd been waiting for...this was why he'd never invited any other woman into his cabin, into his life. But along with this realization came another: Emily was not the woman he should be having these feelings for. She was not the woman he
could
have these kinds of feelings for.

He pulled away and took a deep breath, trying to get a grip. He sat back and brushed a hand over his mouth, but it only made him recall the sensation of her lips pressing eagerly against his.

“Bering, this feels like more than a cease-fire. Maybe we should—”

He ruffled a hand through his hair in frustration. “Emily, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I know this is just confusing things even more....” And all he wanted to do as he looked into her wide, questioning eyes was kiss her again. What kind of an idiot fell for the one woman he cuoldn't possibly have?

* * *

E
MILY
 
STARED
 
AT
B
ERING
as he tried to explain why kissing her had been such a huge mistake. She watched his lips moving, but she couldn't make sense of it—not in any meaningful way. She had reacted to his kiss without thinking and she hadn't recognized herself. One kiss from this man had made her feel more alive than she ever had in her entire life.

Pleasure like she'd never imagined in a simple kiss. It had been as if something that she hadn't even known was missing was suddenly there, like the combination to some secret lock had finally clicked into place. And it had opened the door to reveal feelings she hadn't even known existed within her. How could she not have known that she needed something so vital?

It was just proof that where Bering was concerned she really had no control over her emotions and apparently very little over her actions, as well. Out-of-work-mode Emily seemed to enjoy a lot more of life than work-mode Emily had even anticipated. That partly alarmed her, she thought, but strangely that also comforted her. Because for the first time in her life, she didn't have to think about something, plan something or organize something—she just knew it was right.

And now Bering was telling her that it was all wrong?

How could that be? He was the one who had told her that this Cam-Field business didn't matter. He had done a fine job of proving that concept was, in fact, possible. So why couldn't they be more?

She liked the cease-fire. Couldn't they just extend that for...like...indefinitely? Of course, she knew that wasn't possible, but she also would never have believed that the feelings she had for him were possible, either. Wasn't love supposed to conquer all or at least lessen the obstacles along the path to romance? Not that they were in love, but... Clearly she needed to rein in her feelings, but she didn't think she could stop them now if she tried. It would be like trying to stop a freight train with her bare hands.

She stared at him as he looked back at her and she thought for a moment that the truce would hold and he would kiss her again....

He stood abruptly. “Come on,” he said, “let's take a hike. We'll be out of daylight soon.”

Emily blinked in surprise. “A hike? What? How? The snow is three feet deep.”

“I'll show you.”

* * *

A
SHORT
 
TIME
 
later, Emily decided that snowshoeing with Bering, while fun and exhilarating, was not in the same league as kissing Bering. It was really hard work. Bering obviously slowed his pace for her sake. She wanted to remind him that she wasn't supposed to be working today, although she had the feeling that this didn't seem like work to him. They took a trail that followed the bluff along the river. The scenery was spectacular and it almost made her forget how difficult the hike was.

After what felt like miles, but wasn't as she could still see the cabin when she looked behind them, they stopped briefly to enjoy the view and, Emily suspected, to allow her to rest.

“Are we in any danger of being wolf-packed?” she asked.

His lips turned up into a crooked grin. “Wolf-packed?” He repeated the term.

“Yes,” she said, “you know, packed off by hungry wolves—wolf-packed. It's a technical term specific to the wolf-watching industry. I'm surprised you're not familiar with it.”

“So am I, and here I thought I knew a lot about wolves.”

“Clearly you don't know as much as you thought,” she replied knowingly. “And now I'm not sure I trust you to answer my question.”

“No,” he said, grinning. “We're not in any immediate danger of being wolf-packed.”

“Immediate danger?” she repeated skeptically.

“They are a good ways away, they've just eaten and they generally don't hunt people.”

“Generally,” she repeated wryly. “I really don't like that word, either,
generally.
Because the implication is that there are exceptions to whatever generalization you are making.”

An amused Bering reassured her that she was safe from the wolves, and as she could see the wide expanse the animals would have to cross in order to even get close, she began to relax. And the scenery soon distracted her again from how physically demanding the hike was.

But by the time they got back to the cabin, Emily was wiped out. She removed her boots and peeled off her outer layers. She downed an entire bottle of water and then sank down into the soft cushions of the sofa.

* * *

B
ERING
 
WENT
 
INTO
 
the kitchen to prepare another pot of coffee, and by the time he came back, Emily was snoring softly, her body curled into the corner of the sofa.

Two hours later, he was concerned his level of adoration had reached stalker levels. He'd never watched a woman sleep before. There was a warm knot in his chest that he was entirely unfamiliar with as he studied her. He was relieved that her skin seemed to have achieved a healthier glow. He recalled the grayish pallor and the bags she'd had under her eyes for the first few days he'd known her. And the utter despair he'd seen in her eyes. He didn't ever want her to look like that again. He wasn't sure if she would ever talk to him about it or if he should ask her outright what had happened before she'd come to Rankins. Would that be outside the bounds of friendship he was trying to maintain? He wasn't sure and he feared that those lines were already irreparably blurred anyway.
Kissing someone will do that,
he silently berated himself.

He looked out the window and then back at her sleeping form. He hated the idea of waking her, but he didn't want her to miss the show. He dropped to one knee before the sofa. He couldn't resist pressing his lips softly against her brow first. Then he stroked the soft skin of her cheek with his knuckles. “Em? Emily?” he whispered close to her ear. “Wake up.”

Emily sighed and opened her eyes. “Bering?” She murmured his name and blinked a couple of times. Then she sat up quickly. “What...?”

“Hey,” he said. “You fell asleep.”

She ran her hands over her hair, tucking pieces behind her ears as she did so. “Oh...now I'm embarrassed. I never do this.”

“Why would you be embarrassed? Naps are good for you.”

“If you're three years old,” she countered. She stretched and looked around languidly. Then she gasped and stood. She walked toward the window. The night was black but stars and shafts of glowing colors were lighting the sky.

“Northern lights.” She whispered the words, clearly awestruck by the glistening, swirling colors sweeping and dancing across the sky and seemingly right in through the cabin's window.

“I thought you should get a good look from up here on the mountain while you are in Alaska.”

A breathless “Wow” escaped her lips.

“I know we aren't supposed to discuss this today and I know I'm the one who called for this cease-fire, but this is just one of the many, many reasons why I love it here.”

“Bering, if this is your idea of sneaking in a little campaigning, I'm okay with it,” she joked softly. “I've never seen anything so incredible in my entire life.”

They watched silently for a long time. Bering wanted to take her hand, to touch her, to kiss her. He wanted...her. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to get ahold of his emotions. It was too late. He was owned, he realized with both resignation and despair. He was owned by Emily Hollings, a city girl who worked for his archenemy. Was there some possible way they could make this work? He wasn't sure, but he knew he couldn't touch her again until he had an answer to that question.

* * *

“W
ELL
,” B
ERING
 
SAID
 
a
short while later as he came in from the cold. “I've got good news and bad news.”