Free Freezing Point by Elizabeth Goddard Page A

of ice to life. For just over an hour she had asked him questions about his background—which he managed to generalize—and about ice sculpting. Her fingers were getting numb again so she put aside her notepad.
    â€œYou know, I think I might be able to figure out what you’re carving.”
    â€œOh? What’s that?” he said, without looking at her.
    Still, she saw the grin on his face.
    â€œSomething Egyptian—like a throne of some sort.”
    â€œI’ll never tell. I’m not sure it’s going to be enough for the competition.”
    â€œI think it’s beautiful.”
    For the first time since she’d started talking, he paused. He stood tall and stretched his arms. “I’m glad you like it,” he said.
    He’d answered her questions satisfactorily, at least well enough for her to write an article. Except, she had one more.
    â€œHave you decided yet whether you’ll allow me to follow your progress through the competition?”
    Jesse chipped away at the sculpture again, ignoring her question. She knew he’d heard her. He’d been listening and answering questions for a while now. What could she do to convince him to let her stay?
    He seemed to like her for more than just a reporter—at times, that is. But then, he acted as though he wished she would just leave. Why couldn’t he be one way or the other? It would make things much easier.
    Finally, he stood and tossed his chisel on the table. “I didn’t realize it was so late and you’re cold again. Your lips look blue.”
    Casey reflexively put a gloved finger to her mouth. She glanced at Jesse and noticed his gaze lingered on her lips. “You’re right. We should call it a night. I’ll come back tomorrow.”
    He blew out a breath, appearing drained. She wondered what sort of strain an ice sculptor would come under doing his job, but then his stress could have everything to do with family or other circumstances and nothing to do with the job. But so far, he’d managed to evade all her personal questions except for one.
    She’d ask him about a significant other and he’d shaken his head. She’d breathed a little easier knowing their innocent flirting, when it arose, wasn’t intruding on a relationship.
    Casey wanted to know the real Jesse Dufour. Not just the ice sculptor. How did she break that barrier? How did they become more than a reporter interviewing a sculptor?
    â€œListen, I told you I needed to think about it. Give me until tomorrow, okay? But have you gotten what you need for your article? So you can get your job?” This time he poured on the double-dimple grin.
    Casey slipped and nearly fell off the stool. She was tired, that’s all. “I think so, but I’m hoping for more.”
    Their eyes locked, and Casey couldn’t bring herself to look away. Jesse didn’t fare any better.
    â€œI need to go,” she said. She’d seen something behind his eyes—it terrified her and thrilled her at the same time.
    â€œYeah, wait up, and I’ll walk you out.”
    Casey pushed through the door into the warmer room, though it was still too cool for comfort in her opinion. At least she was able to accomplish a lot today and could be proud of this article when she finished. Hopefully, Danny would like her work and allow her to continue to work with Jesse through the competition.
    The only roadblock now was Jesse, himself.
    Fifteen minutes later, he still hadn’t come out of that freezer where he carved the sculptures. Maybe he needed to pack it away for the night or something, though she couldn’t see why.
    What was he doing in there?
    Casey opened the door to look inside, hoping to hurry him along. On the phone, he jerked his head up and knitted his brow. Hadn’t he said he wanted to walk her out? Too tired to deal with his mood changes, she slammed the door.
    â€œGoodbye, Jesse Dufour,” she