“Who said we’re in a relationship?”
Kat rolled her eyes and slipped into her jacket. “Whatever, St. Claire. I’m beginning to think you don’t know what the hell you’re getting into.” She left the room and jogged down the hallway to the exit.
Nick clenched his fists, his gut knotting as tightly as his fingers. “I’m beginning to think that myself.”
* * *
The winter storm had let up from the day before, but the clouds hovered, blocking out the few short hours of dusky daylight, making the sky a thick smoky gray. At least the wind was still for the moment. Mary could deal with the cold a lot better when the wind wasn’t blowing through her clothes like an air pressure hose.
The snowplows had been hard at work early that morning clearing the main streets and highways. Taking Highway 2 out of town would have been easy in a car. But they weren’t taking the more traveled route. Mary passed the rental car and headed for the snowmobile.
Nick zipped his jacket and pulled gloves onto his hands before he climbed aboard the vehicle. “I don’t suppose our man Feegan lives out on a river somewhere, does he?”
“No. Normally, you can get to his place by car or a four-wheel-drive vehicle, but with the recent snow, we can’t count on the plows having made it out that far yet. They get the main roads between Fairbanks and North Pole cleared out first.”
“Fair enough.” He turned the key and hit the start switch.
Mary’s body tingled at the thought of getting close to Nick again. Why she should be shy after what they’d done last night, she didn’t know, but damn it, she was. Or was it the memories of their lovemaking that made sliding on the back of a snowmobile with Nick more intense?
Nick’s lips twitched as if he could read her thoughts. “Are you coming?”
Her cheeks burning, Mary clambered on and wrapped her arms around Nick. There. That wasn’t so bad. In fact, it felt pretty darned good. Too good.
Mary slid her goggles in place, blaming the negative temperatures for the stinging in her eyes. What did she care if Nick St. Claire left? Hell, he’d only been here a couple of days. She couldn’t have fallen for the guy so soon. It was just sex. A one-night stand. No emotional attachments, right? She wasn’t that stupid.
As they sped out of town, Mary leaned into Nick’s strong back, letting him block the cold wind stirred by the snowmobile, moving forty-five miles an hour over the snow.
Right or wrong, being with Nick gave her a certain sense of security and reassurance. She didn’t know what she would have done if she’d had to look for her father on her own. That bleak thought gave her a chill that shook her from head to toe.
Nick slowed. “Doing okay back there?”
“Yeah, no problem. Just hurry.”
Nick still hadn’t told her who he worked for and likely never would. Mary had no reason to trust him. But she did. He’d saved her life on the trail yesterday. Of course he was saving his own life at the same time.
He’d made passionate love to her through the night.
A sinking feeling settled in her gut. Mary supposed sexy special agents always slept with the girl. That’s how it worked in all the James Bond movies. Granted, Nick was no James Bond. He was much more appealing in a rugged, tough-guy way. She much preferred Nick’s hardness. He banked around a corner in the road, and she squeezed tighter around his middle.
Even through the thick layers of the snowsuit he wore, the solid core of muscles couldn’t be missed. She’d run her hands across them in the privacy of his bedroom last night. Not an ounce of fat on that man’s body.
Her blood warmed beneath her clothes, and she almost missed the turn to Bob Feegan’s place. “Here! Turn left here!”
Nick whipped the machine to the left.
If Mary hadn’t been holding on tightly, she’d have been flung off.
The snow hadn’t been cleared off this road yet, but someone had been out this way since the snowstorm ended. A clear set of skid marks and tracks indicated a snowmobile had passed through not long ago.
Nick gunned the accelerator and sped along the road. Mary was used to being in the driver’s seat on a snowmobile. The lack of control made her hold on for dear life.
As they approached the last bend in the road before the cabin, Mary squeezed tighter. “Slow down!”
Letting off on the accelerator, Nick slowed immediately and brought the vehicle to a halt on the edge of a clearing where a log cabin stood. He killed the engine.
Without the sound of the motor, the silence in the picture-postcard setting was eerie. No smoke poured from the chimney, nothing moved, no signs of life.
Mary shivered, a cold lump of dread settling in her belly.
