Debra Lee Brown - Northern Exposure

And no wonder he was so angry—at her and himself. Wendy knew Joe was physically attracted to her, and had been from the moment he’d pulled her up onto the rock and saved her life. Once he’d realized who she was—sometime after supper and before bed, she guessed—that attraction would have been hard to reconcile, especially for a man like Joe. Given the way Cat had died, and given what he’d read about Wendy in the papers…

“Pull over,” Wendy said, reaching for the door handle. She thought she might be sick.

“Just about to. That’s your rental, isn’t it? A blue Explorer?”

She nodded, working to keep her breakfast down.

Stepping out of the truck, Wendy took a few deep breaths and felt better. Fishing the SUV’s keys out of her pocket, she frowned at the driver’s side door. It was unlocked. She was sure she’d locked it.

“Everything okay?” Barb called from her pickup.

“Um, yeah. Fine.” But it wasn’t fine. She was sure she’d locked it. “Barb, about those tabloids…”

“Oh, heck, don’t worry about it. No way I believe all the stuff they wrote about you.”

She tossed her knapsack in the Explorer, then smiled. “Thanks.”

“All set, then?”

One last question burned inside her. She had to ask it.

“How long were they married? Joe and Cat,” she added, when Barb’s thick brows wrinkled in confusion.

“Cat wasn’t Joe’s wife,” Barb said. “She was his kid sister.”

Joe snatched the phone on the fourth ring. “Peterson.” He’d been outside fixing a broken water pipe that ran from the spring up the hill into the cabin.

“Hey, it’s me.” Barb’s normally cheerful voice had an edge to it he didn’t like.

“What’s up?”

“Wendy Walters. I just thought you’d want to know.”

Joe pulled the phone onto his lap and slung a hip on the edge of the desk. “Know what?”

“She’s planning on hiking in over the east ridge after those caribou. That gun-sight pass—you know the one.”

“Son of a bitch!”

“I know, I know. Don’t kill the messenger. The whole first hour in the pickup I tried to talk her out of it, but she’s dead set on it.”

“How long ago’d you drop her?”

“’Bout two hours ago. My radio’s on the blink. Had to wait till I got back to headquarters to call you.”

There wasn’t any cell coverage in the area. Hell, the closest town was 150 miles away.

“All right, all right. I gotta go.” He started to put the handset down.

“Goin’ after her?”

He put the receiver back to his ear. “What do you think?”

The last thing Joe heard before he slammed the phone down on the desk was Barb Maguire’s trademark titter.

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