Alaskan Wolf (3 page)

“Andy Lemon.” He was pale, maybe late forties, and obviously pretty nearsighted, judging by the thickness of his small, black-framed glasses.

“You been playing here long?” Patrick asked.

“Not very, but it's a great place.”

“Sure is. And right now, Andy Lemon, I'd love for you to play some nice, soft, romantic songs for the next ten minutes.” Patrick whipped out a twenty-dollar bill in emphasis. “There's a woman here I really want to get to know, and I'd like to put her in the mood to get to know me, too. Okay?” He nudged the guy, who grinned, revealing a set of yellow teeth.

“You got it, Patrick. Good luck.” He played a few melodic riffs, then began a schmaltzy, low
instrumental rendition of Elvis's “Can't Help Falling in Love.”

Motioning for Shaun and Wes to follow, Patrick approached the table where Mariah Garver sat with Emil Charteris and his family members.

“Hi,” he said, looking down at her. “Mind if we join you?”

“There's not a lot of room,” she said, “but if you can find some chairs…” She looked around at the others she sat with, and none, fortunately, objected.

Shaun and Wes had already fulfilled the assignment she'd given, although Patrick wouldn't ask how they'd managed to liberate three chairs so quickly. Soon, they were all seated at the table.

“This is Patrick Worley,” Mariah said, introducing him to the others. Lord, did she make him feel warm and uncomfortable in his sweater and jeans, just by looking at him with her luscious, luminous—and incisive—blue eyes. “Dr. Emil Charteris and the Thaxtons. I'm interviewing them for the article for
Alaskan Nature Magazine
I'm writing—the one I also need the dogsled ride for as research.” She explained the scientific backgrounds of the three scientists.

Patrick in turn, introduced Mariah and her friends to his dogsled ranch companions.

“So what's the scoop about the glaciers?” Patrick hoped his tone sounded entirely conversational. His ploy to finally talk to Emil Charteris seemed to be
working, even though these people generally kept to themselves. “We got here only recently, Shaun and I, but from what we heard we may not be able to take people out on dogsled rides much longer, the way they're melting.”

“Wish I knew what to tell you,” Emil Charteris said. “But that's part of why we're here—to see if there's something even worse going on than global warming, which is usually bad enough.”

“I'm most concerned about how this trend may harm the wildlife around here,” Mariah said. “That's Jeremy's expertise.”

Patrick's interest was focused almost entirely on the glaciers, not the wildlife. Still, he found himself listening to Mariah's melodic voice, inhaling the surprisingly spicy scent she wore considering her down-to-earth demeanor…. Hell, he had to stop this. He had come over here hoping for information helpful to his investigation, and she was turning the discussion in a different direction.

“Do you know, Mariah said she saw a wolf on top of Kaley Glacier right after it calved?” interjected Carrie Thaxton. She gave Patrick the impression she didn't like anyone else to be the center of attention, especially another woman. “I think that's wild, don't you?”

“Wolves do tend to be wild,” her husband said drily. The look Jeremy gave his wife was both
condescending and caring. His scent suggested he used a lot of antiseptic hand cleanser.

“That's not what I mean and you know it.” She gave him a gentle shove.

“One interesting thing about the wolf was that it appeared to be alone,” Mariah said. Patrick had the impression she was trying to keep the peace at the table as much as get the discussion back on the topic of her interest.

“They're usually pack animals, of course,” Jeremy confirmed, “but you only glimpsed that one. Could be the rest of his pack was somewhere you couldn't see from the water.”

“We'll check that out tomorrow when we take the dogsled onto the glaciers, right, Patrick?” Mariah asked.

She sounded so enthusiastic that he could do little but agree with her. “Absolutely,” he said.

 

Mariah wasn't sure how much she should look forward to her outing with Patrick Worley. He would be a real distraction to her research, if she weren't careful. He was tall. Broad shouldered beneath his blue sweater—good thing he'd taken off the jacket that obscured that delicious view. Sharp, handsome features etched into a long face.

And why had he sat down here? She'd had the initial impression he wasn't happy to see her.

“How's your salmon?” Thea Fiske had come over to the table, bringing a basket of fresh rolls.

“A little dry,” Carrie said. “Otherwise, it's okay.”

“Not just okay,” Mariah contradicted after noticing Thea's hurt look. “Mine's delicious.”

Their hostess gave her a broad grin, then leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Hey, those mushers—they're good company on cold Alaskan nights, honey. And that new guy, Patrick—looks like he wants to get to know you. I can tell.”

Mariah felt herself flush. “I doubt it,” she responded softly right back. “And if so, he can hope all he wants.”

Thea just straightened and winked. Which only made Mariah feel all the more uncomfortable—especially since, when she glanced again at Patrick, he was watching her. She had the unnerving impression that he knew exactly what Thea had said.

But his attention wasn't entirely focused on her. Unlike his two friends, engaged in a muted conversation together, Patrick seemed interested in her companions at the table.

“So tell me your theory so far on the melting of the glaciers, Emil,” he said to Dr. Charteris, who had just taken the last bite of his meal.

“Still working on it,” he said.

“Of course,” Patrick agreed. “But—”

“We've got a big day tomorrow, Dad,” Carrie Thaxton interrupted. “You finished eating? We'd better run.”

Her husband was still chewing, but Emil agreed with Carrie and motioned toward Thea for the check.

“Oh, no, this is on me,” Mariah said. “I appreciate your talking to me, and hope I can schedule another interview with you soon—maybe after I've gotten my dogsled ride on the glaciers and had a chance to observe any wildlife on the ice. Okay?”

“Of course,” Emil said. “Anytime.”

Mariah had the impression that his daughter and son-in-law were less enthused by the idea, but neither objected. Of course, she'd have to see if they'd actually agree on a time and place for a follow-up interview.

Thea Fiske came over with the bill, and Mariah pulled out her credit card.

“See you soon,” Mariah said as Emil and the others left. She turned back toward those remaining at the table to find Patrick watching Emil and his family wend their way through the crowd. There was an expression on Patrick's face that she couldn't quite understand—as if he was angry at their departure.

He must have sensed she was watching. He turned back toward her and smiled. “Dessert? Something else to drink? My treat.”

She was getting tired. And a bit uncomfortable after Thea's observation and her own much too substantial interest in Patrick. He was not her type—no matter how sexy he was. After past bad experience, she had no interest in men who weren't focused on genuine careers. Stable.

“No, thanks,” she said. “I'll be leaving now, too. See you around, everyone. And, Patrick, I'll definitely see you at the dogsled ranch tomorrow for my ride.”

“I was just thinking of heading out, too,” he said. “I'll walk with you.”

Not a good idea, Mariah thought, but didn't immediately come up with a tactful way to tell him to get lost.

She didn't need to be tactful with him, she realized. Even so, she didn't want to tell him to stay away—not if she wanted him to remain available for her dogsled ride.

“You up for another beer?” Shaun said to Wes. He nodded, and they stood. She wasn't even going to get the comfort of having a crowd come along as she left.

She rose. “Why don't you join your friends?” she asked Patrick.

“I've had enough.” He helped her maneuver through the crowd to the door, and walked outside with her.

In a moment, he looked down at her in the light from the streetlamp. The shivers that swept up and down her spine like the fingers of the musician on the piano inside were not entirely from the chilliness of the night air.

Something in Patrick's light brown eyes looked…well, feral—but most definitely sensual.

“Where are you staying?” he asked.

“Oh, just down the street, but no need to—”

“I'll walk you there,” he said.

Opening her mouth to protest, she was amazed to hear herself say, “I'd enjoy the company.”

T
he sounds of bar conversation accented by piano music receded quickly into the background as Mariah walked beside Patrick along the sidewalk toward her B and B. In the chilly late fall air in this small Alaskan town, there were few night sounds—a car or two driving by, the buzz from other gathering places—and her concentration was engulfed by Patrick's presence.

Despite her heavy jacket and boots lined in faux fur, she felt the cold and wondered briefly what it would be like to walk closer to Patrick, sharing his warmth.

And nearly laughed aloud at her foolishness.

Especially since the silence between them seemed to expand exponentially. Why had she agreed to allow him to accompany her at all?

“So you live in Juneau?” he asked, obviously attempting to relieve the strained discomfort.

“That's right.” For the same reason, she kept talking. She briefly explained her background: growing up in Chicago, a degree from Purdue in Natural Resources and Environmental Science. A love of wildlife enhanced by working summers at a state park.

No need to go into more personal history, like coming from a wealthy family that lost it all by risky—and worse—investments in bad economic times. Or how that affected a recent relationship she had briefly and painfully thought to be true love.

Nor would she mention her last job writing incisive articles on people, not animals—sometimes amounting to near sensationalism. That was in the past.

“A job as a staff writer for
Alaskan Nature Magazine
is a dream come true,” she finished. “There's no place else in the U.S. with so much unique wildlife in an unexplored and pristine habitat. And how about you? How did you decide to work on a dogsled ranch?”

His turn to break the silence.

“I needed a different direction for my life, and Alaska seemed like a good place to start.”

She waited for him to continue, but he didn't. All she heard was the sound of their footsteps crunching on the salt strewn on the sidewalks to melt ice. Their way along the town's main street, Tagoga Avenue, was illuminated by the occasional streetlight as they walked by closed businesses that sold everything from the heavy clothing needed for the upcoming winter, to hunting gear—which made Mariah shiver. She was not a vegetarian, but her love of wildlife caused her to cringe at the thought of killing the beautiful and majestic creatures in Alaska's wilderness. As a resident of this glorious state, though, she had come to terms with it, as long as hunting was done for food and not simply for trophies or fur. And the culling of predatory animals like wolves to protect game, like caribou—not something she could buy into.

The silence grew uncomfortable again. Mariah wondered why Patrick wasn't saying more about his background, especially after all she had spewed out to him about herself.

Was he hiding something?

She was a magazine writer, not an investigative journalist—or even a paparazzo—now, but she still enjoyed tossing controversy into her stories where appropriate. She reveled in her curiosity and cultivated the knack of prying out of people details
of their interest in, and treatment of, wildlife—good and bad.

She wasn't about to allow Patrick to get away with his reticence.

“So what did you do before that required a change?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light.

“This and that.” Hearing amusement in his voice, she looked up to find him smiling at her. And what a smile. Despite the wary ruefulness she read in it and his body language—hands stuffed stiffly into the pockets at the side of his rustic jacket—the guy was gorgeous. Sexy.

Intriguing.

She wanted to know more. A lot more.

But they had just turned the corner onto Kaley Street. Her B and B was on this block, and Patrick apparently knew that. He picked up his pace. “What
this
and what
that?
” She tried to make her demand sound like idle chitchat, but she wanted answers.

“Isn't this where you're staying?” Patrick had stopped in front of a three-story redbrick building that was, in fact, Mariah's B and B—Inez's Inn. A bright yellow light illuminated the large, closed white door with a stylized, smiling moose face hung at the top.

“Well, yes,” she said. “But I'd really like to know—”

Before she could insist any further, he leaned down. Grasped her arms.

And lowered his face toward hers.

Quite unexpectedly, the thought that crossed her mind earlier, sharing his warmth, turned into reality as he melded his body against hers. He covered her lips with his, expertly insisting on her kissing him back. His kiss was fiery in the briskness of the surrounding air, his tongue searching, suggestive of even more sensual delights.

She shivered, leaning against him, her body suddenly and sensitively primed for more.

A sound of voices erupted from inside the building, and in moments Patrick stood several feet away. He looked bemused, then another expression—anger?—washed over his face.

He looked into her eyes almost challengingly. “See you tomorrow, Ms. Garver.”

He strode away into the night as the door opened behind her.

 

It was ten o'clock the next morning. The time Mariah Garver was scheduled to appear at Great Glaciers Dogsled Ranch.

Toby Dawes was off to his meeting in Nome. Wes was out with the tour group. Most of the ranch's other employees were also already hosting tourists, except for Shaun.

Patrick stood inside the main house, keeping an eye on the antics of the dogs in the fenced-in area below, including his own dog, Duke.

Mostly, he watched the driveway, certain Mariah wouldn't appear. He hoped fervently that he'd chased her away with that kiss last night, not that it had been his intention at the time.

At this point, he wasn't sure what he had intended. Oh, sure, he'd wanted to keep her from asking more questions about his background. He had a cover story, of course—one that Shaun and he had developed, with input from others on Alpha Force. Wes Dawes, with his military background, knew one version—some unspecified covert assignment. But the rest of the world was to be fed quite a different story.

One Patrick feared that inquisitive Mariah might see right through.

But, hell, he couldn't change it. It was the background Toby knew. So did other ranch employees. If necessary, he would feed it to Mariah, too, then shut up about it. Let her wonder without being sure.

Better yet, he wouldn't have to see her again, ever, if she didn't come for her sled ride. Although…some part of him didn't like that idea, either. He was attracted to her. Had been even before that spontaneous kiss. And after? Hell, he wanted her. All of her. In bed, where they would create their own
uninhibited heat in a fiery bout of mind-blowing sex, and—

Dream on, Worley.
That was one bad idea. First and foremost, Mariah was a nosy writer. One who was into wildlife. If she ever learned just how close he was to nature, his secret would be out. Worse, so would Alpha Force's secrets.

That could not happen.

Patrick glanced at the waterproof watch on his wrist. Ten-fifteen. Good. Maybe she actually had decided to stay far away. He'd wait another couple of minutes, then go back to the building where the ranch hands had tiny apartments, check on Shaun and his online research, and—

An SUV pulled in at the bottom of the driveway. The one he had seen here yesterday. Mariah's.

Damn. Time for the show to begin.

But first he'd have to erase the big, inappropriate grin from his face.

 

So far, the outing hadn't been too awkward, Mariah thought with relief as Patrick showed her how to sit on the sled to which he had already harnessed the team of dogs—nine, all unique-looking Alaskan huskies, which he had explained were a combination of diverse breeds, chosen more for their intelligence and performance than their bloodlines.

After a restless night, with that kiss replaying over
and over in her mind, she had considered postponing her ride to another day—like the fifteenth of never.

But she was here to research her article. She could ignore her discomfort in Patrick's company to accomplish what she needed to. She hoped.

Besides, she had a strong suspicion that the kiss was an attempt by Patrick to get her to stop asking questions. Which meant he had something to hide. If so, she was even more intrigued to learn all she could about him.

Now, they were in a small, ice-covered area between the main road and the glacier park. They had driven here in a sturdy van with carpeting in the rear for the dogs, the ride crammed full of instructions from Patrick on what to expect on the sled and how to stay safe.

No time to ask him more about himself.

In a short while, they were ready to mush off. “Let's go!” he called to the huskies. They all rose, including the lead dog, Mac—short for McKinley, Patrick told her—and soon ran out over the crushed ice surface of the glacier, towing the sled.

It was exhilarating! The frigid air pelted Mariah's cheeks, and she was glad she had bundled up with a knit hat and scarf as well as her warm jacket, slacks and boots.

She couldn't easily turn to ask Patrick questions, but they'd also discussed her expectations on the ride
here. When they spotted a bald eagle circling the first glacier on their expedition, he signaled to the dogs to slow down by calling “Whoa” and pulling back on the tug line attached to the gang line hooked to each dog's harness. She grabbed her camera from the bag slung over her shoulder, hoping to shoot the photos she wanted without freezing her hands, since she had to remove her thick gloves.

She wished she had come here before the changes to the glaciers, to be able to compare then and now herself. That would make her article more intriguing than simply focusing on the animals she saw on this trip. She hoped to at least get insight, from Jeremy Thaxton or other biologists studying the area, on the kinds and numbers of creatures who'd previously been plentiful here, and whether the numbers seemed to have changed.

And how many wolves there were.

The glacier's surface was irregular—eroded, abounding with ice mounds and cracks. Eventually, near the far edge of the ice that created a cliff overlooking the bay, they stopped. Patrick helped Mariah off the sled and directed the dogs to lie down on the snowy crust.

“Won't they freeze there?” Mariah asked, concerned about the work animals.

“They're used to it. And they'll huddle together if it becomes too difficult.”

“Like a nine-dog day,” Mariah quipped. She knew that the old vocal group Three Dog Night had taken its name from the way people who spent a lot of time in climates like this described the degree of a night's coldness by the number of dogs they needed to snuggle with to stay warm.

“Exactly.” His look at her seemed—well, not just kind, but almost amused. Caring. Where did that come from?

It warmed her from the inside. And made her wonder whether one of those kisses from last night might make her even warmer way out here.

They were soon off again. In the distance, on an ice-covered mountainside, Mariah made out a pair of Dall sheep. She shot a lot of photos, though the majestic animals were too far away to see well.

At one point, a small flock of black-legged kittiwakes flew by. The gull-like birds cried out shrilly as they passed. Again, Mariah took pictures. They also saw cormorants, but no puffins, although Mariah would have loved to have viewed some.

Maybe she would come back here on her own someday. She loved cross-country skiing and had become even better at it since moving to Alaska. The glaciers would make a wonderful landscape for skiing.

Patrick and she spent nearly three hours visiting quite a few glaciers in Great Glaciers National Park.
They ran into no one on the ice, not even any of the scientists researching what was happening here. They also observed no calving that day, a good thing for their safety but not necessarily good for the research Mariah hoped to accomplish.

Among the glaciers they visited was Kaley Glacier, the one Mariah had observed calving yesterday. When they stopped near its edge, she got out and looked in all directions, including the surface of the ice—hoping to see paw prints. But there were none.

“See any signs of a wolf around here?” she asked Patrick.

“No,” he responded curtly, staring into the distance as if he was looking for…what? The wolf? Somehow, Mariah didn't think so.

“I saw one up here,” she insisted. “There was probably a lot of wind last night, and maybe some snow fell, so I'm not surprised I didn't see any tracks, but I'd really love to find a sign, anything I can photograph, to use in my article.”

“I don't see anything,” he insisted. Mariah wondered at his adamant tone, as if he wanted to deny everything she said.

“But I—”

“Look. There are some sea otters, down in the water.” He pointed to a spot in the bay way below them. The creatures were tiny, but Mariah's camera
had an excellent telephoto lens, and she got some good photos of them reclining on their backs in the water eating whatever seafood they had caught. They seemed more energetic than the ones she had seen yesterday.

But despite Patrick's obvious attempt to help her garner wildlife photos, she wondered about his earlier attitude about the wolf she'd seen.

Eventually, they returned to the van. Patrick unlocked it and let Mariah into the cab, while he unhitched the dogs and ordered them inside. Soon, the sled had also been loaded.

“That was fantastic!” Mariah exclaimed as Patrick joined her in the truck. “I loved it.”

“I'm glad.” He actually sounded as if he meant it. “It was a good day for an outing like this—no precipitation.”

“I hope it's just as good next time.” She watched for his reaction. His relaxed features hardened but he said nothing. “I'd love to go again in a few days. I only scratched the surface of investigating local wildlife and any effect by the changing glaciers. I want to do some additional research online, talk to the scientists around here some more, then go out on the ice again.”