Northern Exposure Read Free Page A

couple of pairs of well-used boots. Joe’s, she thought, gauging their size.
    Magazines were scattered in disarray across a coffee table that held the remains of what she guessed was his lunch: a half-eaten sandwich and a big glass of milk. Wendy’s stomach growled.
    â€œI’ll get this cleaned up.” He snatched the plates from the table and disappeared into another room.
    While he was gone, she moved to the fireplace and studied the single, eight-by-ten photo housed in a silver filigree frame that sat alone on the varnished wooden mantel.
    It was of a young woman. A blond, like her. Only not like her at all. Tall and willowy with long straight hair, the woman in the photo wore a short black cocktail dress and the most fragile, deadly innocent smile Wendy had ever seen.
    She’d noticed Joe didn’t wear a wedding ring, but that didn’t mean anything these days.
    Wendy picked up the photo as he breezed back into the room. “She’s beautiful. Is she your wife?”
    â€œPut that down.”
    She felt as if she were ten years old again, caught with her hand in the cookie jar. The heat of a blush warmed her cheeks. “Sorry.” She quickly replaced the photo and clasped her hands together in front of her in contrition.
    Wait a minute.
    What was she doing? So she picked up a photograph of the guy’s wife. So what? She hadn’t done anything wrong. Her reaction to his censure told hershe still had baggage to unload, lots of it, from her years with Blake.
    â€œOkay, let’s do this.” Joe grabbed the phone off the desk and plunked down into the single office chair.
    â€œDo what?”
    â€œYour magazine. What’s the number?”
    â€œWhat?” He was going to call them?
    â€œ Wilderness Unlimited. The number.”
    â€œI heard what you said, I just don’t know why you’d want to—”
    â€œYou said you were a photographer. I’m checking it out.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œTo find out if you’re telling the truth.”
    She couldn’t believe it. “Of course I’m telling the truth. Why would I lie?”
    â€œYou tell me.”
    â€œThis is ridiculous.” She fisted her hands on her hips and bit back a curse.
    â€œFine. We’ll do it the hard way.” He retrieved a back issue of the nationally renowned magazine from the pile on his coffee table. A second later he was dialing the number.
    â€œIt’s in New York.” You idiot. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited. “It’s what, one in the morning there?” She checked her watch, noting the four-hour time difference.
    Their gazes locked. Gently, in a motion that screamed control, he placed the receiver back on the hook. She could tell he was hopping mad—not at her, but at himself for being so stupid.
    The moment stretched on, until she couldn’t stand the tension. “All right, fine.” She walked over to thephone, dialed and handed him the receiver. “My editor’s a night owl. She’s probably still up.”
    â€œYou know her home number by heart?”
    Wendy shrugged. “She’s a friend of mine.” Her only friend right now.
    â€œWhat’s your last name?”
    â€œWalters.”
    â€œWendy Walters. Sounds made up.”
    The irony of that made her laugh.
    Joe looked at her hard as he waited for someone to pick up. No one did. “She’s not there,” he said, and replaced the receiver.
    â€œI guess you’ll just have to trust me, then.”
    He struck her as a man who didn’t trust anyone. He liked to be in control, have things his own way. And that was fine with her, because she was leaving.
    â€œI’ll pay you whatever you want to drive me back to my car. It can’t be far from here.”
    â€œIt is. You have to backtrack out of the reserve and drive around that mountain range—” he nodded at the snowcapped peaks framed in the window