Northern Encounter by Jennifer LaBrecque Page A

way. You wrap it under and over in one smooth movement.” Despite the gloves and the cold, he could swear he felt the same jolt he’d experienced when they shook hands. And he’d had to lean in, bringing them closer together in the weak daylight, the smoke of her breath mingling with his.
    “Oh, I see,” she said as she completed the knot properly and stepped away. “Good. Thank you. Now I can add that to my repertoire of things I know how to do.” Her laugh held a nervous note. “Not that I’m likely to need to secure a sled in the wilderness in the foreseeable future,” she said in a rush, echoing his earlier thoughts, “but if I do, hey, now I’ve got it down pat.”
    “I’d trust you to secure my sled anytime.” The second the words left his mouth he wanted to snatch them back. Clint didn’t say things like that. He especially didn’t say things like that to an attractive female client. “You’ll soon be qualified as a wilderness guide assistant at this rate,” he said on a far less intimate note, trying to smooth over the gaffe.
    “Assistant?” Her smile was pure sass. “I’d want to qualify as the guide. And if you’re ever interestedin a trip to Venezuela, I can show you which plants are poisonous and which aren’t.”
    It was impossible not to smile at her enthusiasm. “That seems like good stuff to know.”
    “Trust me, it is.”
    Venezuela and now Alaska. Obviously she traveled extensively. For Clint, the extent of his travel outside of Alaska had been to Montreal with his mother as a child, and that hadn’t been as much travel as it had been an exercise in bad judgment on everyone’s part. However, it had shown Clint unequivocally where he belonged and who his people were.
    “Okay, then,” he said, “I’ll bore you to no end with information you may or may not need.”
    “I’m sure I won’t be bored.”
    Possibly not at first, but by the end of the week she’d be bored and more than ready to return to “civilization.” Tessa Bellingham no more had “pioneer spirit” written on her than he had “city boy” stamped on him.
    He whistled for Kobuk and the dog tore across the expanse of frozen water, stopping just short of them, his tongue lolling out in a happy pant.
    “He loves this, doesn’t he?” Tessa asked.
    “This is his element. The only time he’s happier is when he’s working between the leads. Wait until he takes us out later today. Then he’ll really be doing what he loves.”
    “I’ve seen huskies and malamutes at home and italways struck me as almost cruel that people would keep what was obviously a dog bred for the cold in such a warm place, regardless of how much they shaved them down.”
    “It’s all a matter of habitat. Mother Earth has a spot for each of us, a spot where we belong, where we flourish whether we’re a tree, a plant, an animal, or an individual. When one of them is out of its element or habitat, it can never live up to its true potential.”
    A shadow seemed to pass over her face. “What if the element is an unknown quantity? What about nomads?”
    “I think there’s a difference between the element being unknown and being nomadic. A nomad is actually in his element, it just happens to be broad.”
    Her nod was slow, contemplative. “I suppose.” He wasn’t sure he’d ever moved into such a philosophical realm with anyone quite as quickly as he had with Tessa. She ended that particular discussion by pasting on a distancing smile and moving farther into the tight space. “Do you have a bunk preference?” she asked, clearly steering the conversation back to the practicalities of setting up camp, which is precisely what he should have done.
    “I’ve had a turn in all of them at one point or another and one’s just as hard as the next,” he said. “But the two on that wall offer the best view of the night sky. I’d take one of them if I were you.”
    Without hesitation she tossed her sleeping bag ontothe top bunk. “I