Crystal Caress
He reached his one-room sanctuary and hurried inside, placing her gingerly on the couch that doubled as his bed. He removed her coat, noted her soaked clothing and quickly covered all but her injured ankle with several quilts, used a pillow to elevate the swollen ankle, then retrieved an instant ice pack and a bottle of ibuprofen from a kitchen cabinet. In another cabinet was a bottle of water. He reached for it and the first-aid kit and returned to Teresa’s side.
“Just lie back. Try to relax and focus on your breathing, not the pain. We need to get that ankle on ice as quickly as possible. Removing your boot and sock will hurt a bit. I am sorry.”
Teresa grit her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. Soon, one tear and then another made its way down the side of her face. She’d not made a sound, yet something caused Atka to look at her. He set the boot he’d removed on the floor and reached a hand to the side of her face. “I am so sorry, papoota taya. The ice and medicine will help lessen the pain.”
His touch was tender, his expression sincere, stirring something within her heart. He was unlike the boisterous alpha men she usually went for, yet the strangely strong attraction she felt toward him could not be denied. Around him again for only a matter of minutes but Teresa was sure she’d never met anyone quite like him. She was also certain that she didn’t want this to be the last time they spent together. A feeling so inappropriate that Teresa began to wonder if during the fall she hadn’t also hit her head and knocked the sense right out of it.
Atka abruptly pulled back his hand and refocused his attention on her injured foot. It was singularly the most painful yet erotic experience she’d ever had. He removed her sock and held her injured foot as if it was made of glass. His touch was soothing to the point of healing. They’d just met the night before, yet she was experiencing ludicrous imaginings that they’d known each other a long time, weird feelings of closeness and a sense of completeness. Had she taken the pill, she could have blamed the medicine. But it still lay in her hand. The water remained on the table beside her. Still, the fall had obviously dislodged logic and common sense from their secure place in her brain. The scrambling had also dulled her senses, because now, with the tight boot off and the ice pack on her foot, the throbbing was considerably less. All this, and she didn’t even know his last name. Atka. The fisherman. The sexy Alaskan who was making her think crazy thoughts about staying in Alaska.
He stood and walked to the fireplace. Teresa watched his calm, economical movements, his tall frame moving with the grace of a dancer. He seemed refined, worldly, yet built a fire in what she swore was under a minute. Her brother Warren, the cowboy of the family, with five wood-burning fireplaces in his home, couldn’t beat that time. Who are you and what are you doing to me?
“How did you find me?”
Atka stood, dusted bits of kindling from his hands as he turned around. His face was a mask. “I could ask that same question.”
She frowned, and not from pain. “You think I went looking for you at the bottom of a ditch?”
“That obviously happened in the midst of your search for...whatever.”
“I was searching for the perfect shot! I was trying to capture the—my camera! Did you see it?” She frantically looked around her. “Oh, my goodness. It’s probably still in the ditch. I’ve got to—” She gasped as pain shot up the leg she’d just tried to move.
He noticed immediately and was back by her side. “Stop moving! I’ll go find the camera. Did you take the ibuprofen?”
She shook her head. “Shouldn’t I go to the hospital, and make sure my ankle isn’t broken?”
“It isn’t broken, but if you’d feel...safer there...then by all means.” He turned off the fire under the teapot and walked over to where he’d hung his coat.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
He gave her body a quick, almost imperceptible once-over, his eyes intense and unreadable. A squiggle ran from her core to her heart. She shivered. His eyes narrowed. “Of course you are. I understand. You’re alone with a stranger in a one-room cabin. It’s totally understandable and in hindsight it was thoughtless of me to bring you here. Forgive me. My only concern was to get you out of the elements before a deep chill set in, and to get ice on that ankle.” He lifted his sheep-lined leather jacket from the coatrack. “We can go now, and pick up your camera on the way.”
The thought of leaving him filled her with an inexplicable sadness. And more, as crazy and inappropriate as it was, she’d fall in the cavern again, and risk a broken bone, for time in the presence of this strange man who was making her think and do strange things.
She reached for the bottle of pills. “Just go get the camera. I’ll take two of these and see if I feel better. If not, we can go when you get back.”
* * *
Atka jumped into his Jeep, returned to the spot of her fall, found the camera and drove back to his home. It took less than five minutes.
He walked in shaking snow from the camera half-buried when he’d arrived. “Here you go. If the moisture from the snow hasn’t got inside of it, you should be fine. How do you feel? Better?”
He looked at her with a hopeful look on his face.
“That was pretty quick. The ibuprofen have hardly had time to work their magic. I can stay for a little while. Like I said before, I’m not afraid of you.”
The smile was barely perceptible. “That’s good to know. It’s natural that you’d want a doctor to examine you and reassure you that nothing is broken. Are you sure you don’t want me to take you now? I’ve still got on my coat. The Jeep is warm. I can have you there in no time.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to leave because you’re afraid?”
A bigger smile, then. Amused. Predatory. “My dear papoota princess, I am not afraid of anything.”
Their eyes met. A second passed. Two. Ten.
“Then I’ll stay.”
One sentence. Three words. They would prove to be a game changer.
Chapter 4
He wasn’t afraid, but she made him nervous. This in and of itself wasn’t unusual. Atka was shy and introverted, homeschooled until his high school years with only a handful of romantic liaisons in his twenty-eight years. He’d known Mary since childhood. Once he’d returned home from college and found her a widow, dating had come naturally and been easy. This feeling Teresa evoked was more than awkward discomfort brought on by a case of nerves. Suspicions aside, there was something about this woman that moved him at a deep level and seeped into his soul. A part of his soul that had never been touched. Add the fact that it had been months since his last sexual encounter and it made it difficult to view this sexy city girl with raven hair splayed across the arm of his sofa sleeper as an injured patient he needed to tend, instead of the caramel vixen he wanted to ravish and keep here, locked away for his pleasure.
He wanted her. But he’d long learned to hide his feelings behind the facade of a strong jawline and unreadable eyes. He did so now. Took in her words, gave a brief nod and turned toward the kitchen area.
“I’ll make tea,” he said, reaching for a mug and a container filled with what looked to be loose tea. “This is a mix of teas and medicinal herbs concocted by my grandmother. Not the best-tasting brew in the world, but I guarantee you’ll feel better.”
“I feel a little better already.” Teresa eased herself up to a sitting position. “The ice pack and ibuprofen are easing the pain.”
Atka returned to the living area and sat in a comfortable chair, the base of which was made from oak logs. The back and bottom cushion were covered with a geometrically patterned fabric boasting bright primary colors, a welcome splash of color to the browns, blacks and grays of the other sparse furniture and decor.
Their eyes met. Silence fell. An awkward yet electric silence tinged with sexual tension and something else...something that later both would realize they had tried without success to define.
“For the record,” Teresa began, running a hand through her tresses, “I did not follow you here. Bristol Bay is home to the largest salmon fisheries in the country. I told you last night I would be coming here.”
“That was after I told you I was a fisherman.”
“Yes, but you didn’t tell me you fished in Bristol Bay! Look, dude, I don’t know who you are, or who you think you are, but I am the last woman on earth who’d go traipsing across Alaska looking for a fisherman, for God’s sake, just because his conversation was engaging and he bought me a meal. I’ll admit that you’re fine, and I didn’t know they made them like you in the wild frontier, but when you left, I had no idea where you’d gone, where you’d be going or when you’d get there. Nor did I care. Okay?”
His silence was deafening, broken only when he asked, “How do they make them here?”
“Really?”
“I don’t know what you mean by that statement.”
“Aw, the way you’re looking at me I almost believe you. TDH, dude.” He shrugged. “Tall. Dark. Handsome. Don’t act like you don’t know, because I’m sure there are many women who’ve told you.”
“Women say many things for many reasons.”
“Well, this woman only says what she means because she wants to be understood.”
“Why’d you say fisherman as though it’s such a bad thing.”
“No offense, Atka. Like I said, my grandfather, father, a couple brothers and several cousins would all be more than happy to join you on a boat. I’d be waving goodbye from the dock before heading to the spa.”
He nodded. “I see.”
“I hope you do. I’d never chase after a man. Either for professional or personal reasons.”
His eyes softened as he gazed at her. “For the record, it’s the last frontier.”
“What?”
“You called Alaska the wild frontier. It’s the last one.”
“If you say so, but it looks wild, too.”
He said nothing. Just crossed his arms and leaned back.
“This is weird.”
“What, lying in the home of a man you’ve known less than twenty-four hours in a small town probably thousands of miles from your home? What’s so strange about that?”
“Exactly.” She shivered, and pulled the quilt up to her neck.
“Then you’ll find what I’m thinking even more disconcerting,” he continued, his eyes narrowing, “though my intentions for these thoughts are absolutely honorable.”
She eyed him with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. “What are you thinking?”
“That you really need to get out of those wet clothes.”
The statement was punctuated by the crackling of a log that split and tumbled into the flames.
Spielberg couldn’t have directed a more perfect moment.
“Honorable, huh?” She frowned, but her voice was teasing. “Sounds like a line to me, and a tired one, at that.”
He smiled broadly now, revealing a set of perfect pearly whites, which, against his tanned skin, fairly sparkled. As did his eyes. “I thought you might. You’re the type of woman I’m sure most men find irresistible, and wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a line for your affections. But I promise to be the perfect gentleman that my grandparents and parents raised.”
“Because you don’t find me attractive?”
“Apparently, flashy baubles aren’t the only thing you fish for.” She fixed him with an expression that he couldn’t quite read. He hoped he hadn’t offended her. “I find you very attractive.” He stood and walked over to her, removed the quilts one by one and placed them on the floor beside him. “So you should appreciate the restraint it will take for me to help get you out of these wet clothes without taking advantage of the fact that you are at my mercy.”
Teresa’s back stiffened. Her eyes blazed. “Don’t let the lipstick fool you. The size of my ankle may now be rivaling that of my head, but I still have enough wherewithal to defend myself. I have six rough-and-tumble brothers who’ve taught me to hold my own no matter what.”
“Even more reason for me to mind my manners. If you’d like, I can carry you to the bathroom and bring in something for you to wear. They won’t bear designer labels, but they will be warm and dry.”
“Yes. I’d appreciate that.”
He lifted her and, once again, a surge of electricity seemed to swirl around them. Her lips, so close to the neck she’d imagined nuzzling against last night, ached to make contact. Being in his arms made her feel safe and loved. Teresa closed her eyes against the emotions that unexpectedly surged in her chest. Have eight months without sex left you this horny, Teresa, feening for a man that you hardly know? A handsome man, no less, one who looked as though were he trapped in the wilderness, he could kill a bear, start a fire and cook its meat—in other words, a man who could take care of his family as well as himself.
Stop being pathetic.
The bathroom surprised her. With the room they’d just left being so rustic, the slate-tile floor, separate shower with rain showerhead and large, soaking tub was unexpected.
“Are you sure you can manage?”
“I’ll try.”
He put down the toilet lid and sat her down. “If you need anything, I’ll be right outside.”
He closed the door and took a breath. The scent wafting up from Teresa’s warm flesh had his body reacting like a schoolboy’s. It had taken every ounce of self-discipline to prevent a full-on hard-on. He walked briskly to the kitchen, pulled a bottle of cold water from the fridge and drank half in one gulp. The water assuaged his thirst but did nothing for the flame of desire raging in his body. Lying to himself would serve no purpose. He wanted to ravish her mouth, taste every part of her body.
But he couldn’t. Not only was the woman a stranger with a possible agenda, she was injured. He would never take advantage of anyone during their time of weakness. No matter how soft yet strong at the same time. No matter how sexy.
“Excuse me?”
Six strong strides and he was back at the door. “Yes, Teresa.”
“I, um, I need your help.”
He braced himself, opened the door and took in the problem immediately. The desire that stabbed him in the groin was tempered by the helpless look in her doe-brown eyes. He crossed over, knelt before her and reached for the hem of her jeans.
“Why do you women like wearing your pants so tight? I’m not complaining,” he hurriedly added. “It’s just what’s causing the problem right now.”
“It’s a magic material called spandex. The pants look tight but aren’t. Plus, they flatter almost every figure. That’s why they’re so pop—ouch!”
“I’m so sorry.” He looked up at her. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to ruin your favorite pants. Your ankle is too swollen to get the pant leg over.”
He kept his eyes on the pant hem. Up any farther, to her bared knee or, heaven forbid, the flawless thigh above it and the creamy rounded hip he glimpsed that alluded to a thong being worn in place of panties, and keeping a rein on his libido would be at serious risk.
“That’s fine. Whatever I have to do to get back on the couch and elevate my foot. It’s starting to throb again.”
Her words sent him into action. He went to a cabinet for scissors and made quick work of ridding Teresa of her pants.
Had he known how his body would react at the sight of her near nakedness, he would have gone more slowly.
“Let me get you something to wear.”
He walked over to the closet and came back with a flannel shirt. “This is all I have. I hope it’s enough. I don’t keep much here and usually only bring clothes for a couple days.”
“I’m sure it’s fine. Thank you.”
For the second time, he left Teresa alone in the bathroom. Atka wasn’t a drinker. But right now he needed a stiff drink to calm down his stiff member. He went to the cabinet and was thankful to see a bottle of wine on the shelf. Pulling down the bottle and a couple wineglasses, he knew one thing for sure.
It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 5
A short time later, a flanneled, warm and dry Teresa was once again sitting on the couch, slowly sipping tea that had been steeping. “Yuck! What’s in this stuff?”
Atka laughed out loud. “Hey, I’m impressed that you didn’t spit it out. That’s happened more than once.” With chopped garlic, onions and green peppers at the ready, he reached for a package of meat, dumped the contents into a bowl and began to season it. “Emaaq has never revealed the entire recipe, but it is inspired by a well-known brew in our community called tundra tea, which comes from the Labrador tea plant. It also contains wormwood, which will help to lessen the inflammation from the sprain, and yarrow root, which will relieve the pain and make you sleepy. Not so that I can take advantage of you, but because sleep is a healer. Those are a couple of several herbs and roots she’s combined in this concoction.”
“Who’s Emma?”
“The word is emaaq. It means grandmother in the Yupik language.”
“Oh. This tea came from her?”
“Yes.”
“Are your traditions similar to that of Native Americans’?”
“Some are.”
She continued to sip the tea, watching as Atka diced the meat and placed it in the pot containing the onion mixture before chopping potatoes and onions to go in, as well.
“It smells good. Did your emaaq teach you how to cook?”
“Both of my grandparents cook, and quite well.”
“I think I’m starting to feel the effects of your grandmother’s brew.”
He turned. “How is your ankle?”
She smiled. Her eyelids lowered into a come-hither look Atka was sure Teresa did not mean to convey. But he wanted to obey the look anyway and join her on the couch, replacing the quilt with his body for warmth, licking drops of tea from her lips with his tongue.
Still, he maintained discipline and showed restraint by refocusing on the stew that he was preparing. By the time he brought a piping-hot bowl over to the couch where Teresa sat, her eyes had lowered shut.
For a minute, he just stood there, staring. He noticed the mug containing the tea set on the coffee table, empty. He knew that she’d sleep well tonight. As for him? On a makeshift pallet on the floor? He doubted it.
“Teresa?”
“Hmm?” Her eyes fluttered open, slid from his face to his crotch and back up to his eyes. Desire flashed, intense and unapologetic, just before rationality gained a foothold and she came to her senses.
He set the bowl on the rough-hewn table. “You need to eat. The tea is strong, and without food, will upset your stomach. Here, let me help you shift your position by elevating your foot on the table.” He placed down the pillow and her foot upon it, repositioning the bounty of quilts, as well.
“I really don’t need them,” Teresa said, softly blowing the steaming spoonful. “I’m warm now.”
Atka was more than warm. He was on fire. His mind filled with thoughts on how to extinguish the flame.
“I’m going to have a glass of wine. Do you want one?”
Teresa shook her head. “I’d better not. That tea has me woozy. But my ankle feels better.”
Atka picked up his wine and soup and joined Teresa in the living room.
“This is good,” she told him.
“Thank you.”
“This is definitely not the way I planned to spend my evening in Dillingham, Alaska.”
“How did you plan to spend it?”
She shrugged. “On my computer, working, and preparing the interviews I’ll be conducting tomorrow.”
Interviews. Right. She was a journalist, here on assignment. Seeing her in his home, with tousled hair and wearing his flannel shirt, it was hard to remember to stay on guard.
“What companies were you planning on visiting?”
“The Sinclair Salmon Company, for one. There are a couple others, but I don’t remember the names right now.”
He tried to keep his voice neutral and void of the heightened suspicion now racking his brain. “What stands out about the Sinclair company, you know, that made it one you remember.”
“It’s the largest one here and by far the most successful. My paper tried to get an interview with the owner, but he declined. So I was going to take the visitor tour, and then try to get an impromptu meeting with either the store manager or one of the fishermen. There are questions about that lifestyle that I’d love to ask you, being a fisherman and all, but you’d probably believe I fell in the hole and broke my ankle just to get the interview.”
“I may have believed that earlier. Not now. I am quiet by nature, but there are reasons for my privacy.”
“No worries. Even though I’m a reporter, I’m a respectable one. I won’t use unscrupulous means to get a story. You’re a private person. I respect that. I’ve been on the other side, and know what it’s like to be hounded.”
Atka’s brow arched. “Really? How so?” She hesitated, nibbled her lower lip. “I’m sorry. Here I am not wanting to be asked questions and then doing that very thing.”
She smiled. “It’s okay. I’m glad to see that you’re curious. It means you’re human.”
He watched as she finished the last of the hearty beef stew. “Where’d you go today?”
“The state game sanctuary.”
“Ah, the walruses.”
“You’ve been there?”
“A time or two. How’d you like it?”
“The boat ride there was awesome. But as far as I’m concerned, if you’ve seen one sea lion, you’ve seen them all. I was looking forward to visiting the fisheries and shipping home seafood. That salmon last night was the best I’d ever eaten.”
“What’s your favorite type of salmon?”
“Don’t have one. Until coming here, I didn’t know there were so many.”
“So your visit was to include the fisheries, and what else?”
Her face fell in disappointment. “I was supposed to visit the Mantanuska Glacier. But from the looks of my ankle, and how it has swelled, that’s a trek I’ll also have to cancel.”
“Unfortunately, yes. You’ll need to stay off that foot for several days.”
“I can’t stay here that long.” The statement came out in a panicked rush.
Atka chuckled. “You won’t have to. Tomorrow we’ll get you to the hospital and outfitted with crutches. You’ll be able to get around much better after that.” Her relief was visible as she leaned against the back of the couch.
“How’d you decide on Alaska as the place to write about?”
“I didn’t. My editor did. Alaska is a popular vacation destination, but wasn’t on my bucket list at all.”
“I can believe that. You don’t strike me as a rugged outdoorswoman who likes to hunt and fish.”
“Not unless I’m hunting for a bargain or fishing for the right-carat diamond to put in a jewelry setting.”
He smiled, nodding. “Now, that I can imagine.” The teakettle whistled. “Excuse me. I’ll refill your tea.”
After placing the loose tea into an infuser, he brought the mug over to the table. “It’s best to let it steep for a few minutes, to unlock the healing magic within the leaves.” He winked and returned to the chair.
“Tell me more about your family. Off the record. I hope you don’t mind my asking. You’re different than any guy I’ve ever met. I get the feeling your family and upbringing might have something to do with it. That’s why I’m asking.”
He nodded. “You are right. My grandparents especially have had a huge impact on how I see life. As I’ve already stated, my family is Yupik, with ties to the land that go back more than a thousand years.”
“That’s amazing. You can trace your history back that far?”
“Through our stories, we can. However, we can only provide documents for as far back as the seventeenth century, when my ancestors arrived from Siberia and Romania.”
“Arctic countries! So, for you, this cold weather is just a walk in the park. The Romanian connection also explains the darker tone to your skin.”
“That, and the fact that my father is black.”