Northern Fires

Juliette had plenty of her own imagination and it zoomed from zero to sixty as to just what those hands would feel like trailing against her skin, sifting through her hair, stroking against parts that hadn’t been stroked by anyone other than her in a long time. Juliette redirected her wayward thoughts. Plywood. Fabric. Paint. That’s what Alberta meant.

This was what made Sven Sorenson dangerous. The man wasn’t even in the room and simply the thought of him set her pulse racing. How on earth was she going to work with him?

“He has to check on some things over at the spa, but he said he’ll drop by afterward so you can bring him up to speed. Does that work for you?”

There was nothing left to say, no protest to mount without looking like a total idiot. “Sure. No problem.”

She could focus and tingle all at the same time, couldn’t she?

2

SVEN DROPPED IN THE last hinge pin on the supply door. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard Jenna behind him.

“Oh, yeah, that looks better,” she said. “Thanks so much.” She threw arms wide as if encompassing her entire space, her smile as big as her embrace. Neither was, however, as big as her very pregnant belly. Sven made a concerted effort to keep his mouth from gaping open. Jenna’s tummy was bigger than her chest these days and that was saying something … actually, that was saying a lot. He hadn’t spent much time around pregnant women. He’d kind of wondered if his sister-in-law might explode before her due date. Jenna was in the same boat. “Aren’t you just loving it?” she said.

He nodded. “It’s awesome.” Sven had built Jenna Rathburne Jeffries’s new day-spa facility and her living quarters upstairs. Actually, he’d built it twice. The first time around it had burned down when there was a fluke problem with a junction box. They’d had to wait on the spring thaw to rebuild it.

It was Jenna’s first home and it had turned out great. The spa on the ground floor and the living space above imparted a sense of tranquility, with large windows offering views of the evergreens, distant mountains and the sky. A built-in waterfall in the reception area lent the sound of running water throughout the ground floor. Speakers piped the original recordings of a Native musician throughout the rooms. It was soothing and elegant without being pretentious. He was just knocking out the final punch list while his crew worked on their new primary project, a huge house a couple of miles out of town for a mysterious new owner. All the plans had been via an attorney, fax and secondary email.

Jenna’s cat, Tama, bumped against Sven’s legs. Sven leaned down and ran his hand over the cat’s thick fur. “Hey, big guy.”

Jenna had been a dream to work with. Actually, Jenna was pretty much a man’s dream in and of herself—blonde, curvy in all the right places, fun, easygoing and outgoing. Just about every man within a five-hundred-mile radius had been despondent when she’d married Logan Jeffries. Sven, however, hadn’t been despondent. He’d been more along the lines of confounded with himself. Jenna was exactly the kind of woman he’d always been attracted to. He and she had even sort of given it a try. Early on they’d kissed. While he liked her and she liked him, there’d been absolutely nothing close to a spark.

No, instead, he had to be plagued with some crazy-ass attraction to Juliette Miller, which he’d done his damnedest to deny, considering she had complicated written all over her and had never given him the time of day.

“So, you’re taking over the set design for the play?”

Sven wasn’t remotely surprised Jenna already knew. He didn’t even question how. News spread faster in Good Riddance than the clap in a low-rent whorehouse.

“Yeah. I’m heading over to meet with Juliette as soon as I finish up here.”

“You’ll love her.”

What the hell? First Alberta with her off-the-wall prognostications and now Jenna. “I’m just going to finish up the set and it’s not as if I don’t know her from around town.”

Jenna peered at him as if he’d lost his mind. “I know. I did the hair and makeup last year and I’m doing it again this year.” She patted her enormous belly. “Well, maybe. Some people can’t tell you what they want, but Juliette can. She and I were talking the other day about the play, which makes it so much easier. That’s what I mean—you’ll love working with her.” Comprehension dawned. “Oh … you thought I meant you’d love her. Well, you could be onto something there.” She tilted her head to one side, nodding. “You’re right. The two of you would make a cute couple.”

“I’m not onto anything and I didn’t say we’d make a cute couple.”

“But you would.”

“She’s not my type.”

“Well, what’s your type?”

“You.” Although he suspected Jenna’s waters ran a little deeper than he’d first thought, he liked his women like a clear mountain stream, and Juliette was more like a dark, still lake and who knew what was going to be beneath that surface.

Jenna laughed unselfconsciously. “Yeah, well, we see where that got both of us.” She rubbed her tummy again. He wished she’d quit doing that—he had nothing to do with her present state of impending motherhood, but Jenna was known for switching more than just a few train tracks in a conversation. “You might’ve thought I was your type, but I wasn’t really your type. So, it’s this mistaken notion of what your type is that’s got you still single now.”

Did all women study the same sound track to throw back at men?

“I like being single.” Not the whole-truth-and-nothing-but-the-truth, but he was feeling cornered by crazy female talk.

“Then why are you talking about falling in love with Juliette?”

The mere notion gave him a funny feeling in the pit of his gut. But then again, it would probably affect any guy that way. God help him. If it was anyone other than Jenna, who he knew tended to talk in circles…. “I’m not. You are.”

“You are too because you’re talking to me and that’s what we’re talking about.”

He gave up. “I’m just going to work on the set. Nothing more. Nothing less. I don’t even know her.”

“Do any of us really know one another until we’ve put in a little effort? And tell me you’re not curious about her. But then again, I doubt you’re her type.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Well, I think Juliette’s pretty particular, because in the year and a half I’ve lived here I’ve never known her to date anyone. For that matter, I’ve never seen her at any of the karaoke nights or the exercise classes at the community center. She’s nice and she’s not unfriendly, but she keeps to herself.”

“Okay. But how does that mean I’m not her type?”

Jenna shrugged. “I dunno. She just strikes me as kind of serious—”

That struck a nerve. Just because he was easygoing it didn’t necessarily mean he was a lightweight. “I can be serious.”

“Wow, okay. I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m sure you can.”

“But what? There’s a but there.”

“Well, don’t take this the wrong way—” that never boded good things to come “—but she really hasn’t shown the slightest bit of interest in you that I’ve ever noticed, so, you know …”

He wasn’t an egomaniac but damn, a man was entitled to a little pride and Jenna had just crushed his beneath her heel by pointing out the obvious. Juliette had never given him the proverbial time of day.

“Thanks, Jenna.”

“Oh, Sven, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I guess I just didn’t realize you felt that way about Juliette.”

“I don’t feel any way about her.” Which wasn’t exactly true, but this wasn’t a soul-baring session with a shrink, either, was it? He had to admit his masculine pride had been pricked from the get-go because Juliette had taken one look at him and dismissed him. WTF was up with that? He’d decided then and there she’d be too complicated and too much trouble.

“Well, maybe you should test the waters, the way you and I did, so you’ll know. It’s impossible for a good-looking single guy to be ambivalent about a pretty woman of similar age in a town this size. You do think she’s pretty, don’t you? And she has a nice figure.”

“Of course she’s pretty.” There was something arresting about her short dark hair, brown eyes and delicately sculpted face. “And yes, she has a nice figure.” Yes, he had noticed her soft curves on more than one occasion—well, the truth of the matter was, every time he saw her. “And as you so graciously pointed out, darling, she’s never given me the time of day.”

“Maybe she’s as scared of you as you are of her.”

“Wait a minute. I didn’t say I was scared of her.”

“You didn’t have to. You think she’s a babe, but you’ve never asked her out so that can only mean one thing. You’re scared.” She patted him on the back. “Don’t be. What’s the worst she can say? No.”

“I am not scared.”

“Good. Let me know what she says.”

“About what?”

“When you ask her out.”

JULIETTE MADE A COUPLE of notes, but her concentration was seriously compromised waiting on Sven to show up. She was ridiculously nervous. He was going to go over the set design with her. Big deal. She’d seen him around town any number of times in the past ten months. Therefore, it was totally silly and uncalled for that she’d popped into the ladies’ room twice now to check her hair and make sure she didn’t have any mascara smudges beneath her eyes.

She heard the pull of a diesel truck passing outside, but it didn’t stop. She moved to the center front, looking at the now-empty stage. The rest of the cast and crew had vaporized as if they’d been caught up in a Vulcan mind meld. Instead, it had simply been the allure of Thursday-night karaoke over at Gus’s. Good Riddance citizens took their karaoke seriously.

While Juliette stopped in at Gus’s for meals, she didn’t make a habit of hanging out there. Most days she felt good and strong, but spending a lot of extra time in a bar didn’t seem the wisest course of action. Once an alcoholic always an alcoholic. A recovered drunk was only one drink away from being back at it … And she never wanted to be back at it again.

She was a big girl. She could handle being alone with Sven Sorenson. She was alone with men all the time, flying them in and out of Good Riddance and to various and sundry spots in remote Alaska. He was just another man. Granted, he had a larger-than-life quality about him that wasn’t just because of his height. As Merrilee had pointed out earlier, Sven was just too … too everything—handsome, charming, sexy, she could throw in another sexy just to keep it real and accurate—for a woman’s peace of mind. And since Juliette was all about preserving the peace—primarily her own—she’d gone out of her way to keep her distance from Sven Sorenson.

She smiled ruefully to herself. The community center was far larger than the confines of her airplane. Distance shouldn’t be a problem.

Despite her newfound perspective, her heart began to thud in her chest at the unmistakable sound of a diesel truck pulling into the parking lot outside. The engine died, followed by the slam of a door and the crunch of boots on gravel.

She pasted on her most professional smile—friendly, yet distant—as boots thudded on the wood stairs and hesitated at the door. The door opened and Sven stood there for a moment. Perhaps she was simply in dramatic mode, courtesy of rehearsal, but it was like some frame in a movie where the gorgeous hero pauses so all the females in the audience can indulge in a swoonfest.

She was an audience of one, but certainly not immune to the visual picture he presented. His booted feet planted apart, strong, long legs in worn denim, narrow hips, a broad chest and still-broader shoulders. The spring sunlight served as a backlight, burnishing his hair to molten gold. He was a cross between a Viking marauder and a Norse god.

All the spit dried right out of her mouth and seemed to head south to congregate between her thighs in a totally unexpected, unwelcome flood of physical attraction.

It was like being struck by a bolt of lightning—not that she ever had been but this must be what it felt like. Of course, she’d noticed him before. He was an extremely good-looking man. A woman would have to be dead not to notice a tall, broad-shouldered, muscled man with a well-chiseled face, blond hair, dark blue eyes that sometimes took on a hint of moss green, a ready smile and an outgoing personality. So she had been aware of him, but never, ever like this. This total rush of energy, attraction, awareness—whatever label she wanted to throw on it—was exhilarating … and terrifying.

She realized while she was in some kind of freakish sexual stupor, he was simply allowing his eyes to adjust to the room. “Juliette?”

She’d been gawking and he hadn’t even seen her, thank goodness. She gathered her wits, along with her notes, and stepped forward. “Right here. Hi.”

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Hi.” He smiled and Juliette curled her fingers tighter around her clipboard. “I hear you’ve got some set-design work that needs finishing up,” he said. “I’m your man … I … uh … if you want me.” He shifted. “Well, you know what I mean … for the play.”

Juliette was flummoxed … and she didn’t flummox easily. “I … uh … sure. I hate that Bull can’t do it, but I appreciate you offering to help.”

“Sure thing.” From the first time she’d heard him speak, his voice had always reminded her of her aunt Mae’s apple pie, which had always been her favorite dessert—crisp notes with an underlying hint of honey and spice. “You want to bring me up to speed with where you are and what you need?”

Where she was and what she needed … well, she could write a short story on both of those with a footnote on what she might actually want on a temporary basis. However, Sven hadn’t meant it in the personal sense, which she would’ve never shared with him anyway.

“Let me give you a quick rundown on the play and then I’ll show you what we have so far.”

He straddled a chair and turned those midnight-blue eyes on her. She sat in a chair a few feet away, her pulse still not quite back in the at-ease range she usually aimed to maintain.

She gave him the CliffsNotes version of the storyline. Interestingly, she could almost see the wheels turning in his head, fitting in the backdrop and set design to the plot and its various segments. Juliette wrapped it up and said as she stood, “And this is what we have so far.”

He rose to his feet, as well. She was very much aware of his height and the impressive breadth of his chest and shoulders. And yeah, that was all good and fine, but what could he do with the set?

Silently she turned on her heel and he followed as she led him to the back right corner behind the curtained stage where Bull had set up his work area. Sven’s boots echoed across the stage floor as he walked with her. Shadows shrouded Bull’s section behind the drop of the heavy curtain. An element of awareness threaded the silence between them.

In the dim light, Juliette inhaled Sven’s scent—a combination of man, fresh-cut lumber, soap, leather and the outdoors. Her heart raced as he leaned in and reached toward her—her thoughts racing nearly as fast as her heart.

It had been so long since she’d been kissed or touched by a man … well, by anyone for that matter. Did she want to feel his palm against her skin? Did she want the sensation of his breath mingling with hers? Did she want to know the taste of his lips and tongue against her own?

She wasn’t sure.

She stood as if frozen and everything seemed to move in extreme slow motion as he drew even with her. His arm brushed against her shoulder, setting off a series of tremors inside her.

There was a sudden movement, a click and light flooded the area. He dropped his arm to his side.

“That sheds a little light on it, doesn’t it?” he said.

Oh, God, she was losing her mind. She’d thought he was going to kiss her and all he was doing was turning on the freaking light. And the worst of it was, she was disappointed. What was wrong with her?

“Thanks,” she said, taking a step away from him. “That definitely makes it easier to see.”

Sven crossed his big arms over his chest and tucked his chin down, studying the pieces before them. Finally he nodded. “It works.”

She was relieved. She and Bull had always been in sync. She hadn’t been too sure that Sven would get what she wanted, but apparently he did. “I think it does. I do think this is a little off, but I can’t put my finger on the exact problem.”

He cocked his head to one side, assessing the plywood cutout. Finally he looked from the piece to her. “If we smooth out this line a bit—” he traced the line with his finger in the air “—and make that one sharper …”

She could see it in her mind’s eye. Juliette nodded. “Perfect, that would take care of the problem.” She found it somewhat surprising that they seemed to be on the same wavelength.

“I have a couple of other ideas that might work, too.” He paused. “Have you had dinner yet?”

She often didn’t eat until late in the evening at this time of year. She found she followed a different rhythm with the longer days of sunlight. “No. I had a busy flight schedule today and then rehearsal.” She liked sitting in on the rehearsal and seeing if what they had on the set side was working or not.

He grinned, and she found breathing a bit more difficult. “And then you had to wait on me to come by. Sorry to hold you up. Jenna had a couple of kinks that needed smoothing out over at the spa.”

“No problem. I just appreciate your help with the set, and so does everyone else involved with the production.” She tacked on that last bit just to make sure he knew she wasn’t being personal when she thanked him and that he didn’t think she had any kind of agenda. Because she didn’t. Nope. None.

“I’d say let’s drop by Gus’s but it’s karaoke night. It’d be pretty difficult to talk there.”

She smiled. “Impossible is more like it.”

“I left a roast going in the Crock-Pot. Definitely nothing fancy, but it usually turns out good enough. Want to come over and have a bite to eat and we can knock around some ideas?”

Juliette made it a practice to keep to herself. It just seemed easier that way. So, normally she would’ve thanked him politely and declined. However, normal seemed to have checked out on vacation, because instead of declining she found herself saying, “I could do that.”

“You know, I’m out at Shadow Lake.”

Juliette smiled. “Right.”

Shadow Lake was beyond lovely. The large tract of property wasn’t too far out of town. At the heart sat a lake that got its name from the mountains surrounding it—at almost any time of day different parts of the lake were shadowed by one mountain or another.

It had belonged to two sisters who had retired to Good Riddance to raise sled dogs and enjoy the Alaskan lifestyle. Irene and Erlene Marbut had become part of Good Riddance’s lore. While the sisters didn’t want to live together, neither had they wanted to live too far apart, so they’d built cabins within spitting distance on the edge of Shadow Lake.

The two women, now deceased, had willed their property to Dalton Saunders, Juliette’s fellow bush pilot. Last year Dalton had married Skye Shanahan, who had taken over as the local doctor following her stint as a relief doc. The couple had contracted Sven to build them a new home that was a bit more private and offered room for them to start a family.

Juliette had heard Sven was staying in one of the original cabins while he renovated the other, and then he’d switch until they were both done. The two side-by-side cabins would be for visiting family members. Skye’s snooty family had actually fallen in love with both Alaska and their outspoken, slightly outrageous son-in-law.

“Well, of course you know, since you fly with Dalton. Plus, there doesn’t seem to be much that people in Good Riddance don’t know about each other.”

“True enough.” Although there was plenty about Juliette that wasn’t known—and she planned to keep it that way. Some things were better left unsaid and in the past.

3

SVEN GLANCED IN HIS REARVIEW mirror to confirm Juliette was behind him as he hung a right onto the unpaved road to the cabins. The road, spread with a fresh load of crusher-run gravel, cut through the stately spruce trees. He looked back to the driveway just in time to brake and stop.

Juliette halted behind him. He stuck his head out the window and yelled back to her, “Beaver crossing the road.”

She flashed a smile and nodded, giving him the thumbs-up. Her smile sent heat through him.

Bucky, as Sven had dubbed the beaver, stopped midcrossing and looked at him. Sven waited. Unperturbed he’d interrupted traffic, Bucky once again continued his journey. Sven had sighted a couple of beavers on the southeast end of the lake, but Bucky was the only one who ventured this far. Sven had spotted the bristly fellow crossing the road several times.

Bucky finally reached the other side and Sven moved on, Juliette following once again.

He hadn’t planned to invite her to dinner. It had just sort of worked out that way. It was logical they’d sit down and discuss the set. He had dinner waiting in a pot. No big deal. The only reason he wouldn’t have invited her was if he allowed himself to be freaked out by Alberta and Jenna. He’d be damned if he’d have Jenna, or anyone else, thinking he was afraid of Juliette.

The tall evergreens gave way to a clearing, the lake to the right, cabins to the left. He parked in the graveled space, big enough to accommodate two vehicles, next to the two side-by-side cabins. Juliette pulled into the empty spot beside him. For sure, she drove a sweet ride—a classic Series IIA Land Rover. It was cool as well as functional—a veritable workhorse that could be repaired on the spot in remote locations. There was something to be said for a woman who knew her way around an engine, which she obviously did. Flying a plane into remote areas required she know engine repair. There was something kind of sexy about a woman who could handle those things.

Juliette climbed out of her truck, looking around. A slight breeze ruffled her short, dark hair and carried her scent to him. “It sure is nice out here,” she said.

“Yeah, it is. There are some awesome places in Alaska, but Shadow Lake is one of the prettiest I’ve ever seen.” He’d fallen in love with the location the first time he saw it. It was quiet and private without the absolute isolation he’d seen in some parts of the state and even in the surrounding area.

He enjoyed staying in the cabin overlooking the tranquil lake ringed by towering spruce, snowcapped mountains visible in the distance. “Have you been out here before?”

Without discussing it, of one accord, they both walked toward the lake.

“Once for dinner,” Juliette said as they skirted a thatch of fireweed in the clearing between the cabins and the water, the purple-pink spires standing thigh high. “It was after Dalton and Skye moved into the new house, which, by the way, is lovely. Your work is quite nice.”

They stopped at the lake’s edge, the gentle lapping of water against the shore soothing and rhythmic. Dalton and Skye’s new home was situated farther down the shore. After dark, the lights would glimmer among the trees.

“Thanks. It was great working on it. Dalton and Skye dig functional, clean design that works with the surroundings.” They turned, heading back to the cabins.

“It feels spacious and cozy at the same time.”

Her comments pleased him. It felt good to have his work appreciated. “That’s exactly what we were aiming for.” They walked up onto the porch. “Want to come in or we can sit out here?” He’d opt for the outside any time.

“Out here is nice,” she said.

“Take the chair.” He motioned to the only seat on the porch. “I’ll hold up the railing.” He propped on the railing, resting his back against the post. Juliette settled on the kitchen chair he kept on the porch. “Skye didn’t cook when you came over, did she?” he asked.