“People who come to this part of Alaska aren’t here for the conversation.” Draping her clothes, she drifted into his sight line again.
“You have a valid point. Talk about a last-frontier kind of place. I can see the appeal of a getting away from it all for vacation.” Except now that he looked closer at her, he wondered if perhaps she had some Inuit heritage… or in this region of Alaska, perhaps Aleut or Yupik. Maybe she’d come from California because of a family tie? His curiosity was piqued.
And yeah, it had something to do with her legs in pink track pants and that funky sapphire stripe in her braid.
What other surprises did she have bottled up inside that killer body of hers? “I’m not asking for a birth certificate or blood type. Just your name.”
“Excuse me for being concerned about survival rather than niceties.” She tugged off her boots and pulled the liners out to dry.
She was carrying this avoidance a bit far.
Unease shifted inside him. He wished the airwaves were clearer so he could radio back to the base, ask some questions about the mystery woman. But he wouldn’t get a clear signal up here until the storm passed.
At least the GPS was working. “You’re surprisingly calm.”
“Panic is a waste of valuable energy stores. As are tender sensibilities. We both should strip down to our underwear and let any perspiration on our clothing dry.”
She unzipped her pink shirt, revealing gray thermal, which went up and off too. Leaving a body-hugging synthetic Under Armour that clearly outlined lush br**sts in a sports bra. Then she peeled away her pants and thermals, revealing silky leggings that left zippo to the imagination, God help him.
His mouth dried up. His hands went on autopilot, adding his gloves to the drying gear.
Yeah, he was all about the rescue. He was a professional. But he was also male. And breathing. And wondering what she wore on the bottom. His polypro long johns weren’t going to make for much cover if he stared at her any longer.
“Wade?”
“Yeah?” He looked away and draped his wool socks over a pair of stalagmites.
“I have a blanket in my pack. I assume you have one in yours. We should double up and share.” She clipped out orders like a drill sergeant. “And don’t worry. Your virtue is safe with me.”
“Thanks.” An unexpected smile curved his mouth. Ms. Drill Sergeant had a sense of humor. Who would have thought that? “We can sit on your blanket and wrap up in mine.”
“Actually”—she folded her blanket in half and draped it on the ground—“we should sit on either side of Chewie. He’s a furnace and a mighty protector of virtue.”
Sitting, she whistled once and Chewie lumbered over from his perch by the opening. The dog settled on his haunches beside her.
Wade eyed the alert canine cautiously as he dropped down beside the hairy beast. “It’s not my virtue I’m concerned about.”
“Don’t tell me you’re a cat person.” She reached past to secure the crackling blanket around her shoulders with a shiver.
Warmth from Chewie began to heat up their cocoon. His toes started to burn as circulation sped up, reminding him how not funny, not sexy, this night was. Well trained or not, he couldn’t afford distraction. Having her turn out to be so competent surprised him. And surprise wasn’t good. Her evasiveness began to set off alarms in his head.
He slid a hand free and tossed a small branch onto the fire—their tinder was limited. He didn’t want to start from scratch again. “You weren’t even winded out there. Most people who come here don’t even make it up this far. Work out much?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Her head lolled against her dog. “I run a, um, gym.”
“And where’s that gym in California?”
Her mouth snapped shut, her teeth clicking.
“You act like a local, and you have your dog with you. Most everyday folks don’t travel here with their pets.” The pieces began to come together in his mind. He’d probably pissed her off with his assumption she was a part of the group. “I’ll bet you’re a guide rather than a tourist.”
Looking away, she fished in her pack and pulled out a granola bar that appeared homemade. “You’re a regular detective. Maybe I should just stay quiet and you can guess. Yes, in fact, I think that’s a great way to pass the time.”
“Under one condition.”
“That’s rich, considering I don’t have to tell you anything.”
Something was off about this whole discussion. As a teen, he’d quibbled often enough, and his military parents had seen right through it most of the time, not that he’d cleaned up his act until life smacked him upside the head. He’d been hardheaded back in those days too.