Sexy, Single And Searching: Sexy, Single And Searching / Eager, Eligible And Alaskan

She turned her head to look out the window, but the closeness of the mountains in conjunction with the smallness of the plane unnerved her almost as much as the man beside her. She shifted in her seat and tried to cross her legs, not an easy feat in the many layers of puffy clothing she wore.

Accidentally, she kicked the handset mounted on the dash. The two-way radio slipped from its mooring and crashed to the floor of the plane.

Shy klutz, thy name is Cammie Jo.

“Omigosh. I’m so sorry.” She reached for the handset at the same time Mack leaned over and their heads cracked together.

“Ow!”

“Ouch, ouch, ouch.” She rubbed the bump on her noggin. Mack was wincing and doing the same.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized again. Without thinking, she reached out to touch the red angry welt forming on his forehead but he drew back.

“I’m okay.” His voice was gruff; his gaze fixed on a spot outside the windshield.

Mortified, she shrank into her seat.

Remember why you came here, she scolded herself. Not for love, not for romance, not to snag yourself a handsome bachelor but to face your fears, visit the land of your mother’s birth and to have a grand adventure.

And if she couldn’t face her darkest dreads? Cammie Jo gulped. She would no doubt end up single for the rest of her life, living in the same old house in Austin, teaching college and pining for what might have been.

No. She refused to hide from life any longer. So what if she had embarrassed herself in front of Mr. I’m-Too-Sexy-For-My-Shirt Bush Pilot. Big deal. She would live. No point putting the guy on a pedestal.

She might not be sexy and brave and graceful and totally feminine from her head to her toes, but she was whip-smart. She had maintained a perfect 4.0 GPA all through undergraduate school and a 3.9 during her graduate studies in information science.

So there. Pffttt.

She warmed to the subject. Who was he anyway? Sitting there looking so accomplished, so tough. Her own mother had been a bush pilot. How hard could flying a plane be? The guy wasn’t a brain surgeon or nuclear scientist. In fact, if she wasn’t so scared of flying, she could become a pilot if she wanted.

Oh yeah, dead easy to be courageous inside her own head.

On the outside was another story.

Do something brave, stare out the window, study the landscape. Imagine you’re piloting the plane.

Cammie Jo forced herself to look out the side window and wished she hadn’t.

The mountains were so very close and it looked as if Mack flew straight at them.

Her breath took its sweet time strolling from her lungs. Her pulse crescendoed in her ears.

I won’t look away, I won’t, I won’t. I’m brave. I’m strong, I’m invincible. I’m intrepid Camryn Josephine.

The nose of the plane dipped. The wing wavered. Startled, Cammie Jo’s eyes widened.

Was this normal?

She peeked over at Mack. He looked calm and controlled, but of course he would. He was the pilot. He wasn’t supposed to let on if things were bad.

The plane dove down, down, down in a rapid descent, falling into a small valley hidden between the massive mountains. She stared at the control panel, some gizmo spinning wildly as if they were in deep trouble.

Calm down.

But she couldn’t. Her stomach scraped the roof of her mouth. The sheer face of a mountain lay mere yards away. She spied trees and other vegetation and hey, was that a mountain goat?

Down, down, down. Almost at a ninety-degree angle. It couldn’t be normal to slip in so steep. Something had to be malfunctioning. She fisted her hands, fought for self-control and failed.

Aiyeeh! We’re gonna crash! Mayday! Mayday! Oh, shoot, I didn’t want to die a virgin.

Freaked out of her wits, Cammie Jo spun in her seat, unbuckled the belt, dove sideways and plowed her head into Mack’s lap.

Seconds later, when the plane leveled out and it became clear they weren’t crashing, Cammie Jo realized she had her face buried snugly in a strange man’s crotch.

2

“CAN I HELP YOU with something, Sugar Plum?”

Mack struggled hard not to laugh. His restraint was evident in the tightening of his thigh muscles, the wheezy quality of his voice rumbling from his chest. Chagrined, Cammie Jo’s head bobbed up as quickly as it had gone down.

She gulped. You could have fried an egg on her cheeks, they were that hot.

She wanted to explain, but just ended up mumbling incoherently, “I…bub…er…mum…ah…I…”

Desperately, she swiveled around in her seat, snapped her seat belt back in place and forced her gaze on the toe of her boot.

“Bear Creek usually makes a strong impression on people as we fly down in through the mountain pass. Some folks sigh. Others giggle with delight. I’ll have to admit no one’s had quite the same reaction as you.”

She was horrified at what she’d done. She could never face this man again. She would wait out the rest of her vacation in the B&B, then find herself another bush pilot to fly her back to Anchorage. She buried her face in her hands.

“We do go in at a steep angle,” he said, all traces of humor disappearing from his tone. “I should have warned you. I can see where your first up-close-and-personal view of the mountain might be scary.”

Oh great! Now he was feeling sorry for her. She didn’t know which was worse—being seen as a joke or a tragic figure.

“We’re landing on the water.” He leaned over to point out her window, bringing with him the scent of his soap and the foreign—at least to her unsophisticated nose—aroma of delectable man. “Just to forewarn you.”

Well, duh. She could have figured that out from the pontoons attached to the landing gear. Where was Mr. Reassuring Tour Guide when the plane was aiming straight for the mountain. Hmmm?

Cammie Jo spread her fingers and peeked out at the little town circling the bay. A couple of docked cruise ships and a plethora of other floatplanes were parked next to planked piers. She spotted salmon boats and kayaks paddling up smaller tributaries, while sailboats sluiced gracefully through the cove.

She forgot to be scared as Mack circled the inlet and curiosity vanquished her shame. She dropped her hands for a better look and studied the neat row of rustic houses and storefronts bordering the main avenue.

Bear Creek was gorgeous.

A rush of emotion swept over her. An odd sense of belonging. Even though she hadn’t been born here, even though she’d yet to set foot in this place, the bedtime stories her mother had told her about the magnificent state of Alaska bubbled up in her consciousness.

She felt as if she’d come home.

I’m having my first adventure, she thought, amazed. My first real honest to gosh adventure.

Now, if only she could work up the courage to try kayaking herself or salmon fishing, or maybe even join a group of hikers headed into the mountains.

She wanted so much and frankly, the intensity of these new desires alarmed her.

Mack set the floatplane down in the bay. A teenage boy waited on the dock to tie it up when they coasted to a stop. The teen helped her out of the plane, then took her bags from the cargo hold.

“This way, miss,” he said.

Cammie Jo looked at Mack. “Aren’t you coming?”

His eyes when they met hers were gentle. “I’ve got more passengers to pick up in Anchorage. Jimmy Jones will drive you to the B&B.”

“Oh, well then. I guess this is goodbye.”

Should she offer to shake his hand? Should she tip him? Cammie Jo juggled her carry-on bags and her purse, but by the time she got her hand free, Mack had already turned back to the plane.

Her heart told her stomach to scoot over because it was coming right on down. Her earlier euphoria at seeing Bear Creek dissipated.

He had already dismissed her. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Miss?”

Cammie Jo gave her attention to the smiling young man carrying her heavier luggage up the pier toward a vintage yellow touring car with Taxi printed on the door in bold black lettering. Already a few other passengers were seated inside.

“This way,” the teen prodded.

Okay, well, fine. She didn’t need Mack McCaulley to guide her through town. She would survive just dandy on her own. That’s what grand adventures were all about.

Right?

She struggled up the walkway. Her bags were too darned bulky and she tripped over a raised plank. Falling down didn’t hurt much—she was wearing lots of padding—but the giggles from inside the taxi skinned her pride.

And when she glanced back over her shoulder she saw that not only had Mack witnessed her third humiliation of the day but he was shaking his head to himself. Tears sprang to her eyes. Blinking them away, she pushed her glasses up on her nose.

I’m tough. I’m tough. I’m tough, she mentally chanted but she knew she was seriously deluding herself.

Jimmy, seeing for the first time she had taken a spill, rushed over to help her, but it was too late. What little courage she’d managed to drum up evaporated. Then, when she found herself settled into the taxi with four women so beautiful they could have stepped from the pages of Metropolitan magazine, Cammie Jo’s spirits joined her heart and her stomach in the bottom of her boots.

The women didn’t bother to introduce themselves. Since she certainly wasn’t comfortable initiating conversation with sleek-haired cover model types, she just leaned back against the seat, closed her eyes and pretended to nap on the quarter-mile journey to Jake Gerard’s bed-and-breakfast establishment positioned smack in the middle of town.

The lobby of the B&B was packed with additional attractive women and tons of ruggedly handsome men chatting them up. No one noticed her. She felt like a holey old gym sock stuffed in a drawer full of sexy lingerie. Now Cammie Jo remembered why she rarely ventured away from the world of academia.

Cammie Jo inched over to the front desk. She recognized the guy behind the counter as another one of the bachelors. He smiled at her.

“Hi, I’m Jake.”

Too shy to speak directly to such a handsome man, she rummaged through her purse for the reservation confirmation slip the magazine had mailed to her.

At first she couldn’t find it. Jake’s scrutiny made her sweat. Perspiration pooled in the hollow of her neck, then slid slowly down her breasts.

Ack! She had too much junk. She moved aside her hairbrush and her wallet. And there was that ugly amulet taking up so much room.

“What’s that?” Jake pointed to the totem.

Highly flustered, she pretended not know what he was talking about. “Oh, that’s a roll of peppermint candy.”

“Not that.” He pointed blatantly at the necklace, but she chose to pretend she didn’t understand.

“That’s my lip balm.”

“No, no, the other thing.”

“What other thing?” When all else fails, play dumb.

Jake’s eyes were glued to the totem. Why wouldn’t he stop staring at it? For goodness’ sake, it was embarrassing enough just having the item in her purse.

“Looks like an Aleut fertility totem to me. Very powerful stuff.”

“It’s not.” She snatched the necklace from her purse and jammed the unsightly thing into her pocket, safely out of Jake’s line of vision.

“Better be careful with it,” Jake warned and then winked. “Fertility totems possess potent magic.”

When she realized he was flirting with her, Cammie Jo’s face heated. She ducked her head and kept digging through her purse. Her hands shook. Finally she found the piece of paper and passed it across the desk to him.

He read it and said, “Welcome to Bear Creek, Camryn Josephine. We’re so glad to have you. Congratulations on winning the contest.”

Cammie Jo nodded. Her aunts had entered her under her full given name and that’s how the magazine had made her reservations. Except it seemed they’d forgotten the Lockhart part. Never mind. Josephine was her mother’s maiden name, and she liked using it. Besides, she wanted to get away from this desk as quickly as possible.

Jake handed her a key. “You’ve got the best room in the house. Number 12. Your luggage will be delivered shortly.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

“Oh, and if you want to sign up for any excursions, just let me know. Metropolitan is picking up the tab.”

“Excursions?”

“You know, salmon fishing, mountain-biking tours, that sort of thing.” He eyed Cammie Jo. “Although you might prefer something a little less strenuous. There’s a guided hike of the Tongass National Forest scheduled for tomorrow morning at seven.” He handed her a brochure. “Are you interested?”

Cammie Jo nodded, anxious to get up to her room where she could regroup. “Sounds fine.”

“Good. I’ll book you.”

Keeping her gaze on the floor, Cammie Jo scurried through the mob of people gathered around the staircase. She was wandering down the corridor, searching for room 12, when she saw the dog.

A Siberian husky.

Cammie Jo stopped, caught her breath.

She loved dogs but because of Aunt Coco’s allergies, she’d never been able to have one. She put her bags down and sank to a crouch.

“Come here,” she cooed.

In an instant the dog was at her side. Cammie Jo rubbed the pooch’s belly.

“I see you’ve met Jake’s dog, Lulu.”

She hadn’t heard him approach. She whipped her head up to see Mack grinning down at her.

Her heart did this crazy gymnastic thing.

Say something, stupid.

But her tongue lay cemented to the floor of her mouth. She couldn’t think of one intelligent thing to say. So much for being a Mensa member. Nervously, she stuffed her hand in her pocket and her fingers glided over the totem.

I wish I was brave enough to have a real conversation with this man.

Mack squatted beside Cammie Jo and scratched Lulu’s ears.

Lulu moaned in ecstasy.

He rocked forward. His knee bumped into Cammie Jo’s. If he didn’t move away soon, she would be doing a bit of moaning herself.

Pant, pant, pant.

Her right hand rubbed the dog’s belly. Mack’s left hand scratched under Lulu’s chin. He tilted his head and grinned at her in the muted hallway lighting.

“She’s adorable,” Cammie Jo ventured, keeping her gaze firmly focused on the husky.

“She’s a big old thief is what she is,” Mack said, with obvious affection.

“Not her,” Cammie Jo protested. “She’s too sweet.”

“Don’t let her looks deceive you and don’t leave anything you prize laying out. Lulu’s a kleptomaniac.”

“Surely you exaggerate?”

He shook his head. “Nope. She steals whatever she can get her teeth on. Jewelry, candy, socks, pens, car keys.”

Lulu whined and gave them an I-was-framed expression, as if she knew her thieving habits were the topic of conversation.

“Yeah, we’re talking about you,” Mack assured the dog. He stood and leaned nonchalantly with one shoulder against the wall.

Cammie Jo glanced up and realized she was eye level with the zipper of his blue jeans. Unnerved, she shot to her feet.

Mack’s eyes met hers.

She gulped then blurted, “Uh…what are you doing here? I thought you had to pick up more passengers in Anchorage.”

“I do,” he said.

Her hurly-burly heart lub-dubbed. Had he come looking for her? But why would he do that? His presence seemed so intimate, so cozy, so wrong. And yet her blood was singing through her veins like a chorus of Christmas carolers.

“Why are you here?”

“I found something under the passenger seat of my plane. Thought this might have fallen out of your luggage.”

“Oh?” She arched an eyebrow. No telling what she might have dropped in her haste to get away from him. “What is it?”

From his pocket he withdrew a thin scrap of scarlet silk and stretched it over his palm.

Cammie Jo pushed her glasses up on her nose and stared at what he held in his hand.

A pair of thong undies.

How in the world did women wear these silly things without getting a permanent wedgie? Just the idea of putting them on made her squirm with discomfort.

“Although,” he continued, “this type of undergarment doesn’t really seem your style. I thought it might belong to one of my previous passengers. I feel like Prince Charming going door to door trying to find the Cinderella that fits these panties.”

Normally, she would have been embarrassed witnessing a handsome man handle dainty undies, but the smug look on his face irritated her to the point where she just snapped. He was so certain she was a boring fuddy-duddy, that she would never wear something as brazen as this—which of course she wouldn’t, but he had no right to make such an assumption about her—that Cammie Jo fibbed.

“Yes, they are mine.” She snatched the panties from his grasp and thrust out her jaw, daring him to contradict her.

The expression of surprise on his face made her feel something she’d never felt before. Boldness? She prodded the emotion. No, not quite boldness, something saucier than mere audacity.

She rested her hands on her hips. His eyes tracked her movements. He gazed at her as if trying to picture her in that thong. He shook his head as if he couldn’t even visualize it.

Cammie Jo notched her chin upward and looked just above the top of his head. A trick she’d learned in graduate school when she had to give lectures to undergrads. Don’t make eye contact and you’ll be okay.

“What did you think? That I wear white cotton, high-waisted granny panties?”

Which was indeed exactly what she had on beneath her clothes. Aunt Hildegard did everyone’s underwear shopping during the twice-a-year white sales, and Cammie Jo had never cared enough about the issue to buy her own panties. But she would roll over and die before she would admit such a thing to Mack, who thought he had her pegged right down to her choice of lingerie.

“I never said that.” A speculative note crept into his voice and in that moment Cammie Jo was able to label the amazing new sensation churning inside her.

By gum, she was feeling cocky. Puffed up with pride and ready to take whatever he dished out.

“I’m much more than I appear on the surface, Mr. McCaulley. Still waters run deep.”

“Apparently so.” He seemed a bit taken aback.

“Thong undies are just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes it is.”

“Okay, then. I believe you. They’re your panties. Mystery solved.”

“Anything else?” she sassed. She was astonished, pleased and giddy with the thrill of her new-found bravado.

“Nooo. Guess that’s it.”

It was only later, after he’d sauntered away, that Cammie Jo realized from whence her unexpected bravery had sprung.

The treasured wish totem resting in her pocket.

3

ONCE SHE WAS safely ensconced in her room, Cammie Jo took off some of her layers of clothing and moved to stare out the window overlooking Main Street.

People crowded the road, wandering in and out of the shops and restaurants. Honestly, she hadn’t expected so much activity. Crowds made her nervous.

Everything makes you nervous. Like good-looking bush pilots.

A sudden rap at the door startled her so much she almost fell off the window seat.

Was it Mack?

Holding her breath, Cammie Jo crept to the door. Rats! No peephole. And no chain.

Timidly, she cracked the door open and peeked out. A gorgeous woman who looked like the actress Charlize Theron stood there smiling at her, a pen and notebook in her hand.

“Hi,” she said.

“Uh, hi,” Cammie Jo responded, impressed with the woman’s smartly tailored clothes and flawless skin.

“I’m Kay Freemont with Metropolitan magazine, and I’m the one who picked your entry to win the free vacation. I’d like to interview you if I may.”

“Oh.” Cammie Jo opened the door wider. “Come on in.”

Kay stepped into the room and Cammie Jo closed the door behind her.

“Did you come all the way from New York just to interview me?”

“No.” Kay’s smile crinkled the corners of her brown eyes. Cammie Jo realized that even though Kay looked very worldly and sophisticated, she was only a couple of years older than her own twenty-five years. “I live in Bear Creek now.”

Cammie Jo gestured at the window seat, not all that comfortable with playing hostess. She glanced over at the totem, which she’d placed on the dresser after that scary-but-thrilling encounter with Mack in the hallway. She wasn’t quite sure if she was ready to handle the consequences of wearing the necklace.

“Thank you.” Kay sat by the window while Cammie Jo perched on the end of the bed.

She ran her palms over the tops of her thighs, a habit of hers when she was nervous or uncertain.

“Relax.” Kay’s smile deepened. “This won’t hurt a bit, I promise.”

“I’ve never been away from home before,” Cammie Jo confessed.

“Alaska can be overwhelming, even for a world traveler,” Kay assured her. “I first came here in February. Talk about overpowering.” She shook her head. “So tell me, Cammie Jo, why are you interested in becoming a wilderness wife?”

“What?”

“You did enter the contest hoping to meet the bachelor of your dreams, didn’t you?” Kay sat, pen poised over notebook waiting for Cammie Jo’s response. “Although I’ve got to tell you, Quinn’s no longer on the market.” Laughing, Kay held up her left hand to show off a diamond engagement ring. “We’re getting married next month.”

“Hey, that’s great.”

“So.” Kay lowered her voice. “Which bachelor are you interested in?”

“Can I be honest with you?” Cammie Jo shifted on the thick comforter.

“By all means.”

They talked for a long while. Cammie Jo told her about her great-aunts, and how their attempts to shelter her had resulted in Cammie Jo being afraid of her own shadow.

“So getting married is really the last thing on my mind,” Cammie Jo said. “I need to stretch my wings and fly. I need to discover who I am before I’ll ever be ready for marriage. I hope that doesn’t disqualify me from the free vacation.”

Kay shook her head. “Your reasons are your own. You won the contest fair and square. If you’re not interested in any of the bachelors, that’s fine. I don’t think they will suffer. Ever since the article ran women have been arriving in Bear Creek by the hundreds. It’s a modern-day gold rush but instead of gold, the hunt is on for eligible men.”

No kidding. Cammie Jo had seen the hordes of women strolling the streets of Bear Creek.

Kay smiled. “The bachelors, in conjunction with the magazine, are throwing a party tonight at the community center across the road. Seven o’clock and you’re the guest of honor.”

Cammie Jo ducked her head. “I’m really not much on parties.”

“Now, now, didn’t you come here to overcome shyness? A party is a great way to start.”

“But I don’t have anything appropriate to wear.”

Kay looked her up and down. “You’re a few inches shorter than I am, but I’m betting we’re the same size. What about shoes? What size do you wear?”

“Six and a half.”

“Hey, me too. Imagine that. I’ll bring over a selection of dresses and shoes. Then I’ll help you do your hair and makeup.”

Two hours later, after Kay had returned to create Cammie Jo’s metamorphosis, she stepped back from the mirror so Cammie Jo could see the results.

“Ta-da!”

Cammie Jo stared owl-eyed. No. It couldn’t be. This wasn’t her. Her pulse thundered. Her head spun. Kay was a wizard with a makeup brush.

“I can teach you how to do this for yourself if you want.”

“Oh, yes,” Cammie Jo breathed.

The woman staring back at her was a complete stranger.

This woman was beautiful.

Her eyes were not Cammie Jo’s normal blah blue but a deep shade of emerald-green, converted into something mesmerizing by the colored contacts. Her round chipmunk cheeks had disappeared. Instead it seemed as if she possessed high, sculpted cheekbones. Her lips were full and pouty; her skin as luminous as dew-kissed blades of grass.