Page 8
Story: Driving Him Wild
you want.’ He waited a couple of beats, no doubt for his words to sink in. Then he took a breath.
‘What’s it to be, Miss Mortimer?’
Call me Graciela.
It was an automatic invitation to new acquaintances and potential donors.Call me Gracielawas so I wouldn’t be reminded that I was a Mortimer. That the blood of an unfeeling, dysfunctional dynasty ran through my veins. It reminded me of the many times I’d attempted to correct that dysfunction, when I thought I knew better, believed I was different. A misguided, cruelly awakening time I would wipe my brain clean of if I could.
The words hovered on my lips but never emerged.
Because I wanted clear, definitive boundaries between myself and this man.
Boundaries I was curious to see whether he would breach. Whether he would prove me wrong.
Or...right.
Dangerous, forbidden boundaries. The kind that had the power to wreck my sleep, turn my
daydreams inside out with dark yearning.
‘Larry,’ I called out without taking my eyes off Jensen. His gaze stayed on my face, dropped to my
mouth for a charged moment before returning to mine.
I heard Larry hurry over. ‘Gracie?’
‘Tell the crew to pack up.’
‘We’re leaving?’ The disappointment in Larry’s voice was distinct.
I gave a single shake of my head. ‘Everyone else is. I’m staying.’
‘Oh? For how long?’
‘As long as it takes. What will I need, Mr Scott?’
He didn’t correct me this time or invite me to use his given name. ‘I have a satellite phone, but if you wish to keep yours, two is better than one. A couple of changes of clothes, in case you get wet.’
‘Food? Water?’
He shook his head. ‘I have enough to get us through the day.’ A hint of hard smile tilted the corners of his lips. ‘Be warned, it’s more utilitarian than gourmet.’
I let the mild insult bounce off me. If my instinct was correct, he’d learn his lesson soon enough. ‘I can rough it for a day or two without expiring from the horror of it all.’ I looked past him to the covered trailer attached to his sled. ‘Speaking of roughing it, where will I be sleeping?’ Thoughts of my warm hotel suite back in Anchorage filled me with longing for a short moment before I pushed
them away.
Did he just swallow? ‘I have a tent if we decide to stop for the night. Or my cabin is a couple of
hours’ sled ride away.’
Larry cleared his throat. I glanced at him to find him frowning. ‘Are you...you’re really staying here on your own?’
The veiled‘Are you mad?’in his tone drew equal amounts of irritation and amusement. But more than that, it drew intrigue and possibilities directed at the man standing tall and delicious in front of me. Twin emotions I hadn’t allowed myself to experience in a long time. Because inevitably both had led to painful disappointment.
‘There’s a chance to salvage something from this debacle. Or would you rather I scrap it and call it a failure?’ I asked Larry.
‘Of course not. I just meant...’ He paused, casting a dark glance at Jensen.
‘I think your PM is worried about your safety,’ Jensen said with a trace of amusement.
‘What’s it to be, Miss Mortimer?’
Call me Graciela.
It was an automatic invitation to new acquaintances and potential donors.Call me Gracielawas so I wouldn’t be reminded that I was a Mortimer. That the blood of an unfeeling, dysfunctional dynasty ran through my veins. It reminded me of the many times I’d attempted to correct that dysfunction, when I thought I knew better, believed I was different. A misguided, cruelly awakening time I would wipe my brain clean of if I could.
The words hovered on my lips but never emerged.
Because I wanted clear, definitive boundaries between myself and this man.
Boundaries I was curious to see whether he would breach. Whether he would prove me wrong.
Or...right.
Dangerous, forbidden boundaries. The kind that had the power to wreck my sleep, turn my
daydreams inside out with dark yearning.
‘Larry,’ I called out without taking my eyes off Jensen. His gaze stayed on my face, dropped to my
mouth for a charged moment before returning to mine.
I heard Larry hurry over. ‘Gracie?’
‘Tell the crew to pack up.’
‘We’re leaving?’ The disappointment in Larry’s voice was distinct.
I gave a single shake of my head. ‘Everyone else is. I’m staying.’
‘Oh? For how long?’
‘As long as it takes. What will I need, Mr Scott?’
He didn’t correct me this time or invite me to use his given name. ‘I have a satellite phone, but if you wish to keep yours, two is better than one. A couple of changes of clothes, in case you get wet.’
‘Food? Water?’
He shook his head. ‘I have enough to get us through the day.’ A hint of hard smile tilted the corners of his lips. ‘Be warned, it’s more utilitarian than gourmet.’
I let the mild insult bounce off me. If my instinct was correct, he’d learn his lesson soon enough. ‘I can rough it for a day or two without expiring from the horror of it all.’ I looked past him to the covered trailer attached to his sled. ‘Speaking of roughing it, where will I be sleeping?’ Thoughts of my warm hotel suite back in Anchorage filled me with longing for a short moment before I pushed
them away.
Did he just swallow? ‘I have a tent if we decide to stop for the night. Or my cabin is a couple of
hours’ sled ride away.’
Larry cleared his throat. I glanced at him to find him frowning. ‘Are you...you’re really staying here on your own?’
The veiled‘Are you mad?’in his tone drew equal amounts of irritation and amusement. But more than that, it drew intrigue and possibilities directed at the man standing tall and delicious in front of me. Twin emotions I hadn’t allowed myself to experience in a long time. Because inevitably both had led to painful disappointment.
‘There’s a chance to salvage something from this debacle. Or would you rather I scrap it and call it a failure?’ I asked Larry.
‘Of course not. I just meant...’ He paused, casting a dark glance at Jensen.
‘I think your PM is worried about your safety,’ Jensen said with a trace of amusement.
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