Linda O. Johnston - Alaskan Wolf

“Gladly.” Soon an enthusiastic rendition of that song reverberated throughout the bar, sung not only by the pianist but by patrons in various stages of inebriation.

Great. This way, Patrick wouldn’t learn anything much since conversations wouldn’t flourish.

But he had an idea. As soon as the song was over, he picked up his beer bottle and went to the pianist himself.

The piano was an upright that had seen better days. Its light wood was scuffed. But it sounded all right. “Hey, your music is great,” he said to the guy who sat there. “I’m Patrick Worley. I’m new around here, work at the Great Glaciers Dogsled Ranch. What’s your name?”

“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.”