silver buckle centered on her low-cut jeans drew Pasha’s eyes downward, to the flat plane of stomach and long legs. Dear God, try as she might, she couldn’t help envisioning stripping off those clothes, one by one, to reveal the flesh beneath.
“I’m Emery Lawson, by the way.”
Pasha tried desperately to find her voice, to respond with at least some humor or intelligence, but Emery had reduced her to a mumbling, stammering clod capable of only speechless adoration. She had to be making the worst possible impression.
“I’m looking for Dita Eidson. Is she around?” Emery asked.
A simple, impersonal, straightforward question. Easy, even for someone in Pasha’s apparently compromised mental state. But it still took her longer to form a cohesive reply than it should have. Long enough for Emery to decide she wasn’t the brightest bulb in the pack. “Sorry. She just left. Three-day fly-fishing trip.”
“Ah. Well, not important. Got to town a few days early and just wanted to check in with her. I’ll come back next week.” She started to leave, but paused at the doorway. “Again, sorry I startled you.” She disappeared before Pasha could find the words to stop her.
Pasha stared at the empty doorway long after she heard the outer door open and close. She replayed every excruciating moment, trying to come up with more clever, witty responses. She hadn’t even had the presence of mind to introduce herself.
She wanted to cry, or hit something. Normally she had no trouble making a good impression, and she thought she’d perfected the art of warmly welcoming new clients to town.
Pasha needed to regroup and come up with a strategy for correcting her blunder. She had to gain Emery’s confidence, since Emery had booked several trips with Eidson Eco-Tours that she’d guide. Definitely a challenge, because she seemed unable to relax around the woman or be her usual fairly eloquent self.
She hoped to eventually impress Emery with more than just her backcountry skills, because she didn’t yet plan to concede that her intuition had misfired, or that destiny could so cruelly point her this forcefully toward someone she would have no opportunity to become intimate with.
Chapter Six
Emery stood at the edge of the runway, admiring how the low sun painted the distant Brooks Range in golden hues. Alaska surprised her, exceeding her expectations in more ways than one, and she’d been here less than a full day.
She breathed in the crisp, clear air. Though she’d seen the splendor of the state in countless movies, documentaries, TV shows, and books, to actually soak in this experience firsthand, to see for herself the endless desolation of the landscape and stark beauty of the unspoiled wild, thrilled her. She couldn’t wait to start exploring more of this magnificent place.
And then to discover that her Alaskan base apparently provided a backcountry haven for lesbians. Stumbling upon the lovely Sue Spires in Fairbanks had already surprised her, but to find so many lesbians in this remote hamlet had astounded her. The attractive waitress, Geneva, came on to her less than two minutes after she walked in the door, and certainly at least a few of the women in the corner booth—all attractive and fit outdoorswomen about her age—were “family” as well. Her gaydar pinged loudly as she swept her gaze over them, noting their haircuts, clothes, eye contact, and especially their body language. The brunette with the ball cap had her arm around the woman beside her, and they couldn’t stop looking adoringly at each other and smiling.
She’d considered joining them and introducing herself, but, dog-tired, she’d just wanted to hit the sheets. She’d even had to politely decline Geneva’s not-so-subtle invitation to join her for a drink after her shift. Despite her first-class naps during the long transatlantic flights, Emery still seemed sleep-deprived and felt the effects of the prolonged journey. She’d spent
“I’m Emery Lawson, by the way.”
Pasha tried desperately to find her voice, to respond with at least some humor or intelligence, but Emery had reduced her to a mumbling, stammering clod capable of only speechless adoration. She had to be making the worst possible impression.
“I’m looking for Dita Eidson. Is she around?” Emery asked.
A simple, impersonal, straightforward question. Easy, even for someone in Pasha’s apparently compromised mental state. But it still took her longer to form a cohesive reply than it should have. Long enough for Emery to decide she wasn’t the brightest bulb in the pack. “Sorry. She just left. Three-day fly-fishing trip.”
“Ah. Well, not important. Got to town a few days early and just wanted to check in with her. I’ll come back next week.” She started to leave, but paused at the doorway. “Again, sorry I startled you.” She disappeared before Pasha could find the words to stop her.
Pasha stared at the empty doorway long after she heard the outer door open and close. She replayed every excruciating moment, trying to come up with more clever, witty responses. She hadn’t even had the presence of mind to introduce herself.
She wanted to cry, or hit something. Normally she had no trouble making a good impression, and she thought she’d perfected the art of warmly welcoming new clients to town.
Pasha needed to regroup and come up with a strategy for correcting her blunder. She had to gain Emery’s confidence, since Emery had booked several trips with Eidson Eco-Tours that she’d guide. Definitely a challenge, because she seemed unable to relax around the woman or be her usual fairly eloquent self.
She hoped to eventually impress Emery with more than just her backcountry skills, because she didn’t yet plan to concede that her intuition had misfired, or that destiny could so cruelly point her this forcefully toward someone she would have no opportunity to become intimate with.
Chapter Six
Emery stood at the edge of the runway, admiring how the low sun painted the distant Brooks Range in golden hues. Alaska surprised her, exceeding her expectations in more ways than one, and she’d been here less than a full day.
She breathed in the crisp, clear air. Though she’d seen the splendor of the state in countless movies, documentaries, TV shows, and books, to actually soak in this experience firsthand, to see for herself the endless desolation of the landscape and stark beauty of the unspoiled wild, thrilled her. She couldn’t wait to start exploring more of this magnificent place.
And then to discover that her Alaskan base apparently provided a backcountry haven for lesbians. Stumbling upon the lovely Sue Spires in Fairbanks had already surprised her, but to find so many lesbians in this remote hamlet had astounded her. The attractive waitress, Geneva, came on to her less than two minutes after she walked in the door, and certainly at least a few of the women in the corner booth—all attractive and fit outdoorswomen about her age—were “family” as well. Her gaydar pinged loudly as she swept her gaze over them, noting their haircuts, clothes, eye contact, and especially their body language. The brunette with the ball cap had her arm around the woman beside her, and they couldn’t stop looking adoringly at each other and smiling.
She’d considered joining them and introducing herself, but, dog-tired, she’d just wanted to hit the sheets. She’d even had to politely decline Geneva’s not-so-subtle invitation to join her for a drink after her shift. Despite her first-class naps during the long transatlantic flights, Emery still seemed sleep-deprived and felt the effects of the prolonged journey. She’d spent
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