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Too Close For Comfort
Colleen Collins
WHEN IT'S THIS CLOSE…Jeffrey Bradshaw's wellordered life has just taken a detour. Instead of being in L.A. making the pitch of his career, he's stuck in Alaska with a feisty bush pilot. Seductive, independent Cyd Thompson has him so captivated, he's not even thinking about his career. All Jeffrey can focus on is the snow-melting heat he and Cyd create. He'll let his newly discovered twin handle L.A. until he's gotten Cyd out of his system.MAYBE THE ONLY THING TO DO IS GET CLOSER!Cyd wants Jeffrey…she just doesn't want him here. His big-city plans are bound to destroy the Alaska she loves. So she'll do anything she can to distract him from finalizing his business. And if that means seducing the guy…well, she'll do that. But she doesn't count on falling for Jeffrey's intoxicating kisses.So what else can Cyd do but convince him that in the Arctic, there's no such thing as getting too close for comfort?
“You’re getting awfully stressed, Jeffrey.”
Cyd took his hand and squeezed. “I know just the antidote.” The moment she’d been waiting for. The chance to take his mind off business.
Jeffrey pulled his hand from hers and started pacing. “You don’t understand. This could make my career.”
While he walked away from her, she quickly doffed her robe. And when he turned around…Honestly, she’d never seen a man stare at her like that. His eyes were shiny, focused right on her.
She placed her hands behind her head, the way she’d seen a pinup poster girl do. For extra effect, Cyd thrust out one hip.
Jeffrey’s hot gaze traveled along her arms, down to that thrust-out hip, then back.
“What are you doing?” he said in a choked voice.
“Taking a hot bath. You should, too. It’s the perfect way to relax,” she answered, trying to sound coy and suggestive. She swiveled ever so slowly and walked toward the tub, hoping that he’d follow her.
And the squeak in the floorboard told her he was doing just that.
Dear Reader,
Too Close for Comfort and its sequel, Too Close To Call, Temptation #940 by Barbara Dunlop, are the result of a brainstorming session where Barbara and I gleefully latched on to the idea of a “Parent Trap for adults” story. Two guys from totally different backgrounds—one’s a rugged Alaskan, the other a sophisticated big-city executive—discover they’re twins and, as a last-stop ploy to ensure the success of a major business venture, swap places.
In my book, Jeffrey Bradshaw, senior executive for Argonaut Studios in Los Angeles, takes a trip to a remote region of Alaska to research the location for a TV series…and gets stuck there! Think James Bond stuck in Fargo. No martinis, no five-star hotels…But Jeffrey’s greatest challenge is matching wits with a feisty, wild-hearted bush pilot named Cyd Thompson who’s more woman than Jeffrey has ever handled. Hey, when it gets too close for comfort, maybe the best thing to do is just get closer….
To read about my upcoming books, as well as enter contest for prizes, please visit my Web site at http://www.colleencollins.net.
Happy reading,
Colleen Collins
Books by Colleen Collins
HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION
867—JOYRIDE
899—TONGUE-TIED
913—LIGHTNING STRIKES
HARLEQUIN DUETS
10—MARRIED AFTER BREAKFAST
22—ROUGH AND RUGGED
30—IN BED WITH THE PIRATE
39—SHE’S GOT MAIL!
107—LET IT BREE CAN’T BUY ME LOUIE
Too Close for Comfort
Colleen Collins
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Barbara Dunlop, who made brainstorming this series too much fun!
Acknowledgments:
Special thank-yous to Jay Kelley, Fly Alaska, who walked (flew?) me through the world of being a bush pilot in Alaska; Sara “the Stove Princess” at the Good Time Stove Company for educating me about oil stoves; Matt Carolan for letting me pick his brain about life in the Alaskan interior; and Shaun for the writing cheers during deadline.
Contents
Chapter 1 (#u5c7a5055-d17b-57d9-ad9a-72242921c56e)
Chapter 2 (#u74329d55-28b8-5433-89f2-004585b591d3)
Chapter 3 (#u0206441f-1d8c-5daa-907b-c1f9f1b280cb)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
1
JEFFREY BRADSHAW STEPPED FROM the mind-numbing outdoors into the heated reception area, glad his breaths no longer emitted clouds of vapor. He flicked his wrist and checked his Rolex. Almost 4:00 p.m. He looked up. No monitors to announce if his four o’clock flight was on time. And if he glanced out the window outside, no commuter planes on the tarmac. Jeffrey looked around at the Alpine “Airport,” which consisted of a pop machine, an assortment of chairs and a counter. He headed toward the latter, pounding his hands together and wishing to hell it would stun the blood to start pumping again. So this was autumn in Alaska. Frozen land. Frigid air. What I’d give for a hot tub, a hot toddy and a very, very hot woman.
“Can I help you?” The guy behind the counter was fiddling with his computer.
“True North Airlines?”
The fellow did a funny salute. “You got it. I’m Wally.”
Jeffrey smiled while trying not to stare at Wally’s blazing red plaid shirt. Maybe all Alaskans wore such shirts in case they got stuck in a snowstorm. “Flight to Arctic Luck,” Jeffrey said. “Four p.m.” He reached into the inner pocket of his Italian cashmere suit jacket, pulled out his wallet and extracted a credit card. “One. Jeffrey Bradshaw.”
Wally took the credit card, giving Jeffrey an odd look. In certain circles, Jeffrey was accustomed to people recognizing him. At thirty-four, he’d held prominent executive positions at several global corporations, the most recent being Acquisitions Director at Argonaut Studios in Los Angeles. Just last month Forbes had done an article on how Jeffrey increased Argonaut’s profits in the third quarter by a phenomenal fifteen percent due to his innovative business ideas. The article even made Jeffrey look like a damn movie star by plastering a photo of him and a hot new television actor, Gordon Tork, on the cover.
Not bad for a kid who grew up on the streets. But growing up tough had been a bonus for Jeffrey. He had both street savvy and business savvy, which meant he could deal with just about any type of personality thrown at him, from cons to CEOs.
And this Wally fell somewhere in-between. A decent guy, probably born and raised in Alaska. So it would surprise Jeffrey if Wally, working at a one-person airport counter in remote Alpine, Alaska, had seen the Forbes article and recognized Jeffrey.
As the card cleared, Wally continued staring at Jeffrey, then glanced behind his shoulder, then back to Jeffrey.
Jeffrey looked over Wally’s shoulder into a square mirror where he caught his reflection. Strange. His neatly trimmed dark brown hair curled over his collar in the mirror. That’s when he realized it was no mirror, but a window. And he was staring into some guy’s face who was looking back at him, his hazel eyes flashing surprise.
It was like looking into some kind of distorted reflection, as though Jeffrey were seeing a more craggy, weathered version of himself.
Hell, it was like looking at himself. There was that damn cowlick he’d wrestled with his entire life, right at the crown of his—well, that guy’s—head. Even the size of his—well, that guy’s, too—ears. Jeffrey never thought his ears were that big, but several girlfriends had giggled they were the biggest, sexiest ears they’d ever whispered into.
Jeffrey squinted.
Yeah, that guy definitely had his ears.
What were the odds that two men, in a chance encounter, looked alike, had matching cowlicks and the same big, sexy ears? Had to be less than one percent of the population of the entire world. No, even less than that.
I’m losing it.
He wiped his hand across his face, welcoming the cold jolt of snow crystals that still clung to his leather glove. Seeing transmutations of himself had to be the effects of the long flight from New York to Anchorage, then the commuter hop here to Alpine. Throw in some stale airline peanuts, and anyone would see things.
Outside, the roar of an engine distracted him. His gaze shifted to another window, through which he saw a Cessna barreling at some insane angle toward the ground. Jeffrey was always aware of the impression he was making, but nothing could have stopped him from yelling an expletive and pointing toward the impending crash.
“Looks like Thompson’s right on time,” said Wally.
Stunned, Jeffrey watched as the plane jerked up at the last moment, its wheels miraculously touching the tarmac before the machine shuddered to a stop with mere feet of asphalt to spare.
Jeffrey waited until his pounding heart leveled off. “Is Thompson the pilot flying to Arctic Luck?”
“You bet.”
“I want another flight.” No way in hell was he getting into some stunt pilot’s death-wish plane.
“No other flights to Arctic Luck today.”
“Is this an airport?”
Wally paused, his clear blue eyes taking in Jeffrey. “It is.”
“Then call whoever’s in charge. Get another flight here.” Jeffrey hadn’t graduated Princeton’s business school summa cum laude, and been a successful business maverick, without learning a few tricks about managing people. He glanced at a handwritten sign taped onto Wally’s computer. Keep The Customer Satisfied. “Because I’m a customer and I want satisfaction.”
Wally tapped a key on the computer, then shifted his weight so he faced Jeffrey. “We’d be more than happy, Mr. Bradshaw, to get you another flight, but our most recent weather bulletin says there’s a storm building off the Gulf. Thompson’s our best bush pilot and, right now, your only option for a flight to Arctic Luck.”
On cue, a wiry teenage boy dressed in jeans and a parka pushed open the swinging door from the hangar. Pausing, he shoved back his baseball cap and raked fingers through his short, black hair. Upon seeing Jeffrey, his big brown eyes widened, then swerved to look at the guy in the window.
Wally waved a paper at the boy, who did another doubletake at Jeffrey and the guy in the window before accepting the paper. He promptly looked at it, then back at Jeffrey with a broad grin. “Howdy.”
The voice was…softer than Jeffrey expected. “Hello.”
The kid held out his hand.
Jeffrey paused, then offered his. For such a small hand, this teenager sure had a hearty shake. “You’re Thompson?”
“Yes. You’re heading to Arctic Luck?”
Was this kid even old enough for a pilot’s license? Wonderful. An illegal, daredevil pilot. Jeffrey learned long ago to never accept “no” for an answer. Keep stalling, asking for another flight to Arctic Luck, and things could happen. “I’m taking another flight.”
The boy released the handshake. “Then you’re going to be waiting for a long time.” He held up the paper. “Storm’s coming in.”
“So I’ve heard.”
The boy grinned again, then swaggered off to the pop machine. But instead of inserting coins, he gave it a calculated punch that released a drink.
“Are you canceling or taking the flight?” asked Wally.
Jeffrey weighed his odds. He could forego this trip to Arctic Luck, which meant he wouldn’t have the first-hand data he needed at the Argonaut board meeting early Monday morning. A key meeting where Harold Gauthier, chairman of the board, was making a special appearance to hear the pros and cons for the Alaskan film series Jeffrey was pitching, a romantic comedy along the lines of Ed meets Northern Exposure to be called Sixty Below. Not only was Jeffrey overseeing this deal, he’d written the story, which he’d set in a hypothetical Alaskan town. But now that the deal was nearing closure, it was imperative Jeffrey actually see the proposed location so he could speak formidably about how this frontier town was integral to the success of the series.
He had originally planned on flying in today, Saturday, then researching Arctic Luck tonight and tomorrow. Later on Sunday, he’d scheduled flights back to Alpine, then Anchorage, with a final flight to Los Angeles late Sunday night. He’d then catch some shut-eye and be ready for Monday morning’s meeting.
His alternative plan? To not fly to Artic Luck because he had a ten percent chance of dying thanks to Thompson’s death-defying flying tactics.
And then there was the issue of his promotion from acquisitions director to vice president of development at Argonaut Studios. Cinching this series would cinch the title.
“Yes, I still want to take the flight.” Jeffrey took in a sobering breath of air and hoped it wasn’t his last.
CYD THOMPSON WAITED at the door to the hangar for Mr. Big City to hustle over his smug self so she could usher him to the plane. As he sauntered toward her, she checked him out. Pretty fancy clothes, there. Fancy and damn impractical. Hadn’t anybody warned him that those leather loafers wouldn’t prevent his feet from freezing if the snow was sticking to the ground in Arctic Luck? And that coat—it would keep him warm for, oh, maybe three seconds. Give or take a second.
She stared at his face. Eerie how he looked like her boss, Jordan, who owned True North Airlines. Cyd rarely got unnerved, but seeing the resemblance had definitely thrown her off.
She glanced at the window to Jordan’s office. Damn amazing how these two guys shared the same hair—rich molasses color with that funky wave at the crown. And although Mr. City Slicker had barely smiled a greeting, something about his and Jordan’s smiles were alike, too. The way their lips crooked a little to the side, kinda like Harrison Ford.
“Ready?” Mr. City Slicker, tucking his wallet neatly into the inside of his jacket, looked questioningly at her.
Jeez, even their voices were similar. Rock-bottom husky. Although Mr. City Slicker definitely had more of an edge to his. But then, most city people did.
“Yes, but you aren’t.”
He paused, his hazel eyes flashing her a look she couldn’t decipher. “I’m ready,” he responded, that edge in his voice sharpening.
Didn’t anybody ever disagree with this guy? Or did he carry a permanent chip on that fancy jacket shoulder?
