Desire in the Arctic by Stacy Hoff

thing. Because how was depending on him ever going to establish her as being someone capable?
    Her thoughts drifted back to elementary school. It hardly seemed possible to have been so well liked and yet so dismissed. From second grade, Ana was viewed as fun to be around, but off-beat and kooky. Outspoken and honest, but not too bright. The one who people called up to invite to a party, but never the one asked for advice. Or to help study or do homework with. And the one who always stuck out because her wardrobe never blended in.
    It was weird to have Brenda working for her now. Somehow Ana still wasn’t convinced she was worthy of an assistant. It was also why Ana held Stephanie in such high regard. Stephanie was the first person to see past the quirk and believe in Ana’s brainpower. Stephanie was a trailblazer, lighting the way for Ana. Finally, Ana was following, one tenuous step at a time.
    With a shudder, Ana wondered if maybe she’d only gotten this promotion because of Mark’s twisted plan to get her on this crazy show. Better get negative thoughts like these out of my head. Focusing on the people who think I’m inept is not going to help me survive twelve days in the Yukon.
    Ana glanced out the window to see Fairbanks’s runway in clear view. Her final plane ride was about to end. And her real journey—both physical and mental—was about to begin.

Chapter 7
    Redd had only been in Fairbanks for a day and he was already tired of waiting. Being a Special Ops Marine meant preparation and performance. Being a competitor on a Teleworld TV show, however, apparently meant sitting around watching paint dry. Literally. Redd watched a big, burly bald guy paint one of the pockmarked walls of the bar he was in. The painter was the only other person in the establishment. Fortunately, a minute later, the front door swooshed open and the film crew walked in.
    “Hey!” protested the burly painter. He dropped his paint roller on the drop-cloth-covered wood floor. “You can’t come in here with those cameras.”
    James straightened up. “Are you the owner?”
    “Yeah. My name’s Gus. Like the sign outside says, this is Gus’ Place.”
    Redd leaned back on his chair until the front legs were an inch off the ground, passively interested to see how this would turn out.
    “Nice to meet you, Gus,” James replied politely. “We’re filming a show for the Teleworld Broadcasting Company.”
    “Where are you guys from?” Gus asked suspiciously.
    “New York City.”
    Gus’ expression was either impressed or pissed. Redd couldn’t tell which. “That’s all well and good, but I don’t know too many folks who like to be recorded. If you’re going to come in here, you’ve got to put those cameras away.”
    “I understand. We don’t want to upset your business. In fact, we want to help you out. How about I give you three hundred dollars to tape what goes on in here for the next hour? No one needs to come in who doesn’t want to be taped and you won’t miss the lost business.”
    Gus looked at James suspiciously.
    Redd leaned back in the rickety chair even further.
    “A thousand,” Gus countered.
    “Five hundred,” James retorted. “In New York, we like getting a good deal.”
    “One thousand bucks, firm,” Gus said, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest. “In Alaska, we know when we’ve got you over a barrel.”
    “At least it’s not a gun barrel,” Devon whispered loudly. “This guy scares me, James. Pay him what he wants or I’m outta here.”
    Tom shifted uncomfortably. He leaned over to James, “I’m sure Mark will understand if we go through money faster than planned . . .”
    The three New Yorkers looked like they were quaking in their Timberlands. “Hey Gus,” Redd called out. “How about six hundred and I’ll make up the difference.”
    “Yeah? How’s that?” Gus countered.
    “The sign outside says you’re having a karaoke night. I’ll do a few songs for this fine establishment