Free Northern Encounter by Jennifer LaBrecque Page B

stack in the corner and loaded it into the stove. “A little dry spruce to get it going quicklyand then the alder will burn nice and hot.” He struck a match and held it to the kindling, “You’ll be toasty in no time.”
    “I’ll just settle for thawed.” Even her smile felt frozen. “I still can’t feel my fingers.”
    “Take off your gloves and put your hands in your armpits.” He hesitated and then continued. “Or your crotch. They’re the two warmest spots on your body.
    Just so you know.”
    “Well, that’s an interesting survival skill tip. I’ll opt for my armpits this time.”
    “I think that’s a good choice,” he said, poking at the fire one last time before closing the stove door.
    Good grief. He was dead serious. There was an impish part of her that wanted to ask if his hands were cold and offer up her crotch since her armpits were otherwise occupied. And while the thought might dance through her head, no doubt due to oxygen deprivation compliments of the frigid temperatures, she kept the thought to herself. And actually it almost did as much to warm her up as the fire that was snapping and popping in the stove.
    She’d known she was in trouble…well, actually, she’d known she was in trouble from the moment she’d met him. But she’d known she was in seriously dire straits when they were sitting in that tent this afternoon and all she could think about was how much she’d like to kiss him. He had the most tempting mouth she’d ever seen on a man. A full lower lip that just begged to be licked and nibbled.
    She sucked in a deep breath. She obviously was in need of additional oxygen.
    “Are you okay?”
    No. She was not okay because even the extra oxygen wasn’t alleviating the desire to back him up against the wall and have her way with his sensual mouth. “I’m fine. How about you?”
    That earned her a strange look. “I’m fine. Are you sure you feel all right?”
    “No. Not really. Is there some kind of mental condition induced by the cold?”
    “Hypothermia. Do you feel drowsy? Confused?”
    “Maybe a little confused.” Because surely she was confused as hell if the only thing she could think about was kissing Clint Sisnuket.
    “Let me check your heart rate,” he said, placing his fingers against the underside of her wrist while he watched the second hand on his watch. A frown drew his midnight black eyebrows together. He shook his head. “With hypothermia, the pulse rate slows but your pulse is racing.”
    No kidding. He was touching her. He was within heart-thudding, hormone-revving striking distance. Of course her pulse was racing.
    “Uh-huh.”
    He let go of her wrist and tested his fingers againsther forehead, her cheek, her neck. “You don’t feel clam my,” he said.
    She was seriously in danger of melting into a puddle at his feet. Surely to God, she wasn’t in this alone. She looked into his dark eyes with their thick fringe of lashes and saw what she needed to see. “You feel warm.” He brushed his fingers against the line of her jaw. Oh, no, she definitely wasn’t alone in this. “What kind of confusion are you suffering?”
    She drew another deep breath with no better results than before. “I seem consumed by the need to kiss you.”
    He tensed, much like the malamute had when it had sensed a threat, but instead of retreating, he winnowed his hands into her hair, testing the strands between his fingertips. “I’ve had the same bout of confusion. But I think it’s a bad idea.”
    “I’m sure it’s a terrible idea.” She couldn’t help herself. She reached up to trace her finger against the fullness of that lower lip that tormented her. She could barely breathe. “You have the most beautiful mouth I’ve ever seen on a man.”
    With a muted groan he lowered his head and she wasn’t sure where his breath started and hers ended. And then that incredible mouth was on hers, his lips melding against her own.
    Sweet.
    Hot.
    Arousing.
    Again. And