Kate Hoffmann - Dodging Cupid's Arrow

She blinked, then frowned, drawing back slightly to look at him. Her gaze flitted over his angry expression, her eyes wide. Finally, he thought to himself, realization. After all this wasted time bickering with her, she'd decided to listen to reason. Maybe now she'd quit fighting the inevitable. She was here to stay until Milt Freeman told him it was safe to fly her out again.

"You want to kiss me, don't you?" Her husky voice was mixed with an equal measure of surprise and smug satisfaction.

A sharp laugh burst from his throat, but it sounded hollow and forced. He shifted in his seat, but she wouldn't let go of his jacket. What the hell? Was she a mind reader as well as a major pain in the backside? Or was his desire so easy to discern?

It had been a while since he'd had a woman. In fact, he'd been afraid to admit that he was going through a bit of a slump lately. There had been plenty of possibilities, plenty of romantic dinners, but that was about it. Not prepared to risk betraying another errant impulse to her prying gaze, he turned and looked out the front windshield, slowly slipping his sunglasses back on. "You have a rather high opinion of yourself, don't you, Kincaid?"

She sighed, then released his lapels and pushed away from him impatiently. "It's no big deal. I mean, why try to hide it? You're a healthy guy, living up here in the middle of nowhere. I'm an attractive, educated woman. You can say it, Brennan. I'm certainly not a prude. I'll admit it-I find myself slightly attracted to you, as well. Inexplicable, but an attraction nonetheless."

He reached for the key and started the truck, taking a small measure of satisfaction that the attraction was reciprocated. Still, all his good sense told him that pursuing Perrie Kincaid would be a colossal mistake. The sooner he dumped her at her cabin, the sooner he'd be able to escape from those disturbing green eyes. She was far too perceptive-and outspoken-for his tastes. Even if she was the only decent-looking woman in a fifty-mile radius. "Are you always so blunt?"

"I don't consider it a failing," she said. "In my line of work, it's a necessity. I always say what's on my mind. Why waste time dancing around the issue when you can cut right to the chase? It saves a lot of time and trouble."

"Well, as long as you're here in Muleshoe, you may want to tone it down a bit. You'll make more friends if you don't go blurting out every thought that comes into your head. Especially your rather negative opinions about Muleshoe."

"I'm not planning to stick around long enough to make friends."

"Whatever you say, Kincaid," he muttered, shifting the truck into drive and punching the accelerator. The back end fishtailed until he brought it under control. "I just don't want to be putting you in Kelly's meat locker."

"You'd lock me in a meat locker to keep me here?"

"No, that's where we put our dead folks until we can fly them out to the funeral home in Fairbanks. If you're planning to try to get out on your own, you'll end up there sooner or later."

She wriggled down in her seat and shot him an uneasy look. "I'll keep that in mind, Brennan."

As they drove down Main Street, Joe pointed out the major landmarks-the general store, the tavern, the mercantile, the post office-but she showed little interest. "And that's the brides' house, right over there." He pointed to a little cabin with smoke curling out of the stone chimney. "The bachelors built it last summer when they cooked up their mail-order plan. They figured to bring the brides up in the middle of the winter to test their mettle. If they could survive the snow and cold, then they might just be worth marrying. You might want to stop by and say hello. The three of them are the greatest concentration of the female sex you're likely to see between here and Fairbanks."

"I don't think we'll have a lot in common," she said, giving the cabin no more than a cursory glance.

"You never know."

"I'm supposed to write an article about them. Milt assigned it to me before he banished me from Seattle. I can't imagine why any woman in her right mind would choose to live out here."

"It's not all that bad," he said, wondering why he even bothered to defend it to her. "Some women find it a challenge. Not everyone loves living shoulder to shoulder in a city. All the noise, the pollution… the crime. I wouldn't be surprised if you got to like it a little bit."

"I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you." She leaned her head against the window and observed the scenery in silence.

Joe carefully negotiated the curve out of town, swinging his truck wide around a snowdrift that the wind had kicked up. He sure hoped Milt Freeman knew what he was doing sending Perrie Kincaid to Muleshoe. More than a few women and a good number of men had cracked under the endless boredom and isolation of an Alaskan winter. If the snow and cold didn't get to a person, the endless nights would. Days were short and darkness came early.

He didn't want to be around when Perrie Kincaid started suffering the combined effects of cabin fever and sunshine deprivation. The sooner Milt Freeman and the Seattle police solved her problems, the better off he'd be.

The better off they'd all be.

Perrie leaned back against the rough plank door and listened as Joe Brennan's footsteps crunched in the snow on the way back to his cabin. She was grateful to finally be out of range of those disturbing blue eyes of his. With a groan she let her shoulder bag slip to the floor. A few seconds later, she followed it, sliding her back against the door until she sat down with a thump. "I'm in prison," she murmured as she rubbed her sore arm. "That's what this is. Nothing but a gulag with a lovely dead-animal decor." She sighed. "And a warden cute enough to curl a girl's toes."

She glanced around the cabin at the mounted antlers scattered about the room, then silently cursed Milt Freeman and the scumbag that shot her. If it hadn't been for that one stray bullet, Milt never would have sent her to Siberia. She'd still be in Seattle, working on her story, following leads, tracking down witnesses. Instead, the only thing she had to occupy her mind was a thwarted plan to escape Muleshoe… and the possibility that Joe Brennan might kiss her.

If she had the time to spend, she might find Joe Brennan more than a little intriguing. Perhaps they might enjoy a tumble or two before she headed out of town. After all, Perrie wasn't immune to the charms of a ruggedly handsome man. She'd had a few men in her life-purely on her own terms, of course. But none of them had lasted very long once they'd realized they didn't rank high on her list of priorities.

Besides, she had already counted at least five good reasons why Joe Brennan got under her skin, five good reasons why she couldn't even consider allowing him to kiss her-or rumble her into bed. And the biggest was his refusal to return her to Seattle. How could she possibly respect a man who had no respect at all for the importance of her work?

She scrubbed at her face with her hands. Right now, she didn't want to think about Brennan. Her misguided attraction to him would only serve to distract her from her cause-getting back to Seattle. And he had vowed no assistance on mat front. "I'll find another way," she said. "There's got to be another way."

She clambered to her feet and took a slow tour around the cabin, dropping her jacket on the floor along the way. It was nice enough, kind of warm and cozy. The rough plank floors were covered with a colorful assortment of braided rag rugs, making the one large room seem as if it were actually three rooms. A fieldstone fireplace dominated the far wall; an overstuffed sofa and an antique rocker were arranged around it.

At the other end of the cabin, a pair of old iron beds and a scarred dresser served as the sleeping area. The beds were covered by pretty quilts and fluffy pillows. In the corner, a potbellied stove radiated a gentle warmth. Perrie held out her hands for a moment to warm them, men turned to survey the kitchen.