The Double Deal. Catherine Mann

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      Her mouth watered and her senses tingled on high alert. Because of her pregnancy or because of the man?

      She reminded herself of her mission. She tugged the hem of her boring thermal shirt and asked, “Wanna play strip poker? I’ll trade you clothes for first dibs on that food.”

      He glanced over his broad shoulder. “Do you always proposition strangers?”

      “Only you.” She fluffed her dark hair, a seductive challenge in her subtle moves.

      He turned his attention back to the meal at hand. Unfazed. A low, rumbling chuckle. “Ah, you’re being outrageous to get me to stop thinking and reveal—something?—to you.”

      He was smart, quick-witted, not easily fooled. “Very insightful.”

      “So sarcastic.” Facing him, she couldn’t help but notice the solidity of his chest beneath his MIT sweatshirt.

      “But you’re talking to me now rather than hiding behind your computer.” He raised one brow and for a moment, almost too brief to register, a flicker of amusement danced across her face, smiling, bowing in...interest?

      Dragging his attention from her back to the breakfast food seemed to be no easy task. He scrambled and flipped the eggs once more. His hands moved with such precision, the mark of a man with an ingrained attention to detail. Her mouth dried up at the vision of those hands paying precise attention along her body.

      “True enough.” He stalked quietly toward the kitchen area, pulling out plates for each item.

      His eyes met hers, and there it was—that pop of electricity, something warming her to her core. The fluttering in her stomach intensified. Not pregnancy related, but a reminder of what her future held.

      Royce dumped the sausage links and bacon onto a plate, arranged them neatly in a row. He fished out the four pieces of freshly toasted bread. The yeasty smell mixed with the savory smell of bacon and sausage.

      He met her gaze, held it before he spoke. “Keep your clothes. I could stand a big breakfast too. What do you want to discuss?”

      Naomi scratched just behind her ear, collecting her cool after spending even more time drooling over the man than the food. Deciding her strategy as he set out fresh jams on the small counter in front of her. The spread was vast, especially given their minimalist setting.

      Bacon, sausage links, fluffy eggs, toast. All things she didn’t even realize she was craving until now. Might as well feed one hunger pulsing through her and hopefully rein her thoughts in.

      Tilting her head, she continued, “Since strip poker didn’t get a rip-roaring endorsement, let’s go with something more practical.” She sat back on the edge of the bed and hugged her knees. “I would enjoy hearing more about your work.”

      “I told you. I’m a science professor.” His smile was taut, tense.

      And his response? Vague as ever.

      But his eyes sparked with something else when she held his gaze. Her pulse quickened...at the game of wits or at something else entirely?

      Food. She needed to eat.

      “Well I figured you weren’t a communications professor. Science is a broad field though. Care to narrow it down a bit? I assume you’re passionate about your career given how intensely you concentrate.”

      With a sigh, he piled food on his plate. She watched him close his eyes, seeming to weigh his next words carefully. What felt like an eternity passed before he spoke again. His low voice a welcome rumble.

      “I’m an engineer, actually. I work on oil pipeline construction and upgrades.”

      “A mathematical as well as scientific field. Interesting. What do you enjoy most about the pipeline angle? I’m having fun envisioning you out there in the wilds, the bear master flexing his intellectual chops.”

      “Still nosy.” A smile—well, a half smile—pulled at his lips. He arranged the spread on the table, down to the precise position of both of their plates. He gestured for her to join him.

      “Why does it matter if I know what you do?” She walked over to the table, settling into the seat closest to the glass. The snow still poured down, muting the minimal rays of sunrise, giving the breakfast a hazy, romantic glow.

      Brushing knees with him under the table only added to the intimacy.

      “I’ve shared with you,” he dodged. She reached for the toast and then scrambled eggs as he continued, an edge of sarcasm tinging his tone. “Tell me more about being a delivery gal. How long have you had the job? Why did you apply to drive around in awful weather? Why did they hire you?”

      “I told you, I’m a friend.” Stick with rule number one: keep the story as simple and unadorned as possible. Too many details would complicate things. She tucked her knees closer to her side of the table. “I volunteered to help him out.”

      “Ah, right.” He shoveled a large bite of eggs into his mouth.

      Either he wasn’t listening to her or he was trying to trip her up, which meant he was suspicious. With good reason.

      Guilt pinched. Hard. He seemed to be a genuinely good guy and she wasn’t being totally up-front with him. It had all seemed so simple back home, the stakes for her family so high. And none of that had changed. She wanted security for her baby and she believed in her cause. She wasn’t as active as her sister on the issue of the environment, but her family’s company truly was the one most open to what Royce had to offer.

      Bottom line, she deeply believed research like Royce’s helped reduce environmentally caused cancers, and the thought of saving others the grief she’d been through? She had to forge ahead.

      “Tell me more about you? Family? Friends? Girlfriend who won’t be happy to find out I’ve been here alone with you offering to play strip poker?”

      “I’m an only child,” he said, taking the bait as she shifted the topic. “My parents had me later in life and are retired. Girlfriends aren’t your concern.”

      “Efficient answers. Sparse. But efficient.”

      Like he was with serving up portions on his plate from the platter in the middle.

      “I grew up in Texas around the oil fields. My father and mother worked hard. We had a comfortable life. I studied hard and it paid off with a full ride to college. I made good with some patents, which enables me to afford to hide out working in a luxurious glass igloo and pay for delivery of supplies,” he said simply, adding butter to his bread while it was still warm, the dab melting over the sides.

      Kind of like her senses. He was eccentric, sure, but sexy as hell. The intensity in his eyes had disarmed her for a moment. She needed to press on while he was warming up into an unusually chatty mood.

      “Texas to Alaska. That’s quite a leap geographically, not to mention the weather.”

      “Oil. Pipelines. Common thread.” He lifted his mug of coffee.

      “Ah, yes. Oil.”

      “Hmm.” СКАЧАТЬ