Read Online Northern Lights by Nora Roberts - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Nora Roberts
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barrels for a minute." John turned his head, and the amusement in his eyes turned to longing—just for an instant.
Nate saw the object of it gliding across the room with a coffeepot.
"Look at this. The two handsomest men in Lunacy at the same table." Charlene poured Nate's coffee, then slid cozily into the booth beside him. "And what would you two be talking about?"
"A beautiful woman, naturally." John picked up his beer. "Enjoy your dinner, chief."
"So . . ." Charlene angled her body so her breast brushed Nate's arm. "What woman would that be?"
"John was telling me how Cissy came to be working for you."
"Oh?" She traced her tongue over her freshly slicked bottom lip. "You got your eye on my waitress, Nate?"
"Only with the hope she brings my dinner out soon." He couldn't scoot away without looking, and feeling, like an idiot. He couldn't move without bumping up against some part of her body. "The Mackie brothers pay you damages yet?"
"They came in about an hour ago, made it good. I want to thank you for taking care of me, Nate. Makes me feel secure knowing you're just a phone call away."
"Having an over-and-under in your kitchen ought to make you feel pretty secure."
"Well." She dipped her head, smiled. "That's really just for show." She angled her body closer, so that the come-get-me perfume seemed to rise out of her cleavage. "It's hard being a woman alone in a place like this. Long winter nights. They get cold. And they get lonely. I like knowing a man like you's sleeping under the same roof. Maybe you and I could keep each other company later."
"Charlene. That's . . . That's an offer, all right." Her hand slid up his thigh. He grabbed her hand, pressed it on top of the table, even as he went hard and hot. "Let's just take a minute here."
"I'm hoping it'll take longer than a minute."
"Ha ha." If she kept rubbing that body against him, reminding him how long he'd been celibate, he might not make the full sixty seconds. "Charlene, I like you, and you're a pleasure to look at, but I don't think it'd be a good idea for us to . . . keep each other company. I'm just feeling my way around here."
"Me, too." She twined a lock of his hair around her finger. "You get restless tonight, you just give me a call. I'll show you what I mean about this being a full-service establishment."
She kept her baby blues on him as she wiggled out of the booth— and managed to slide her hand suggestively along his thigh again. Nate waited until she'd crossed the room in that hip-rolling gait before he let out a hoarse whistle of breath.
HE DIDN'T SLEEP WELL. The mother-daughter tag team kept him churned up and edgy. And the dark was endless and complete. A primitive dark that urged a man to burrow in a warm cave—with a warm woman.
He kept a light burning late—read through town ordinances by it, brooded by it, and ultimately slept by it until the alarm shrilled.
He started off the day as he had the one before, breakfasting with little Jesse.
It was routine he wanted. More than routine, he craved a rut where he wouldn't have to think, one that got deeper and deeper so he didn't have to see what was beyond it. He could go through the motions here, handling minor disputes, easing through the day with the same faces, the same voices, the same tasks repeating like a loop.
He could be the mouse on the wheel. And maybe the ridiculous cold would keep him from decomposing. That way no one would know he was already dead.
He liked sitting in his office, hours on end, juggling among Otto, Peter and himself the scatter of calls that came in. When he went out on one, he took one of the deputies with him to let him fill in background and set the rhythm.
He was getting a handle on his staff, in any case. Peter was twentythree, had lived in the area all of his life, and appeared to know everyone. He also appeared to be liked by everyone who knew him.
Otto—staff sergeant, USMC, retired—had come to Alaska for the hunting and
Nate saw the object of it gliding across the room with a coffeepot.
"Look at this. The two handsomest men in Lunacy at the same table." Charlene poured Nate's coffee, then slid cozily into the booth beside him. "And what would you two be talking about?"
"A beautiful woman, naturally." John picked up his beer. "Enjoy your dinner, chief."
"So . . ." Charlene angled her body so her breast brushed Nate's arm. "What woman would that be?"
"John was telling me how Cissy came to be working for you."
"Oh?" She traced her tongue over her freshly slicked bottom lip. "You got your eye on my waitress, Nate?"
"Only with the hope she brings my dinner out soon." He couldn't scoot away without looking, and feeling, like an idiot. He couldn't move without bumping up against some part of her body. "The Mackie brothers pay you damages yet?"
"They came in about an hour ago, made it good. I want to thank you for taking care of me, Nate. Makes me feel secure knowing you're just a phone call away."
"Having an over-and-under in your kitchen ought to make you feel pretty secure."
"Well." She dipped her head, smiled. "That's really just for show." She angled her body closer, so that the come-get-me perfume seemed to rise out of her cleavage. "It's hard being a woman alone in a place like this. Long winter nights. They get cold. And they get lonely. I like knowing a man like you's sleeping under the same roof. Maybe you and I could keep each other company later."
"Charlene. That's . . . That's an offer, all right." Her hand slid up his thigh. He grabbed her hand, pressed it on top of the table, even as he went hard and hot. "Let's just take a minute here."
"I'm hoping it'll take longer than a minute."
"Ha ha." If she kept rubbing that body against him, reminding him how long he'd been celibate, he might not make the full sixty seconds. "Charlene, I like you, and you're a pleasure to look at, but I don't think it'd be a good idea for us to . . . keep each other company. I'm just feeling my way around here."
"Me, too." She twined a lock of his hair around her finger. "You get restless tonight, you just give me a call. I'll show you what I mean about this being a full-service establishment."
She kept her baby blues on him as she wiggled out of the booth— and managed to slide her hand suggestively along his thigh again. Nate waited until she'd crossed the room in that hip-rolling gait before he let out a hoarse whistle of breath.
HE DIDN'T SLEEP WELL. The mother-daughter tag team kept him churned up and edgy. And the dark was endless and complete. A primitive dark that urged a man to burrow in a warm cave—with a warm woman.
He kept a light burning late—read through town ordinances by it, brooded by it, and ultimately slept by it until the alarm shrilled.
He started off the day as he had the one before, breakfasting with little Jesse.
It was routine he wanted. More than routine, he craved a rut where he wouldn't have to think, one that got deeper and deeper so he didn't have to see what was beyond it. He could go through the motions here, handling minor disputes, easing through the day with the same faces, the same voices, the same tasks repeating like a loop.
He could be the mouse on the wheel. And maybe the ridiculous cold would keep him from decomposing. That way no one would know he was already dead.
He liked sitting in his office, hours on end, juggling among Otto, Peter and himself the scatter of calls that came in. When he went out on one, he took one of the deputies with him to let him fill in background and set the rhythm.
He was getting a handle on his staff, in any case. Peter was twentythree, had lived in the area all of his life, and appeared to know everyone. He also appeared to be liked by everyone who knew him.
Otto—staff sergeant, USMC, retired—had come to Alaska for the hunting and
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