Primal Calling Read Free Page B

you want a chance to tell—”
    â€œI thought I’d seen every trick you reporters had. But this is a new low. Now, if you don’t get out of my room, I might decide you really do want to screw me.”
    Bile rose in his throat. He’d humiliated himself. For a pretty piece of ass.
    â€œI know I should have—”
    Propelling her outside, he slammed the door in her face.

2
    H E THOUGHT she wanted to use sex to buy his story?
    Serena ran to the cabstand, clutching her coat tightly around her throat. The fury that had glittered in Max’s eyes stalked her. Her arm still stung where he’d gripped it. And yet, she hadn’t really been afraid.
    Hailing a cab, she got in, banged her head against the backseat and ran her hands through her hair. She should’ve told Max who she was and what she wanted right from the start.
    The cabdriver watched her warily in his rearview mirror.
    â€œThe Seaside Hotel, please.”
    And what had happened to her professionalism? Had she completely lost her mind? Letting him kiss her? No, wanting him to kiss her. And enjoying it. Way to stay objective, Sandstone.
    But there’d been something about him that drew her in. And it wasn’t just his wide shoulders beneath thatthick, cable-knit sweater. There’d been a primal look in his coffee-colored eyes. A hunger…
    Oh, good grief. In a minute she’d be waxing poetic about sexy loners. Obviously she needed to get laid more often than every year or so if this was how she reacted to being alone with a guy.
    What was she going to do now? She’d missed her flight for nothing. It’d been an impulsive decision. One made more out of desperation than rational thinking. If the bush pilot had refused to be interviewed all these years, why had she thought he’d talk to her? But isn’t that why it would’ve been such a scoop? To get the ungettable interview? Now, more than ever, she wanted to know what he was covering up.
    By the time she trudged into the Seaside’s lobby she still didn’t have a plan.
    â€œMs. Sandstone, welcome back,” said one of the concierges, heading her off before she could reach the reservations desk.
    â€œThank you. I don’t have a reservation for tonight, but I was hoping—”
    â€œAbsolutely no problem,” he interrupted. “Right this way.”
    While the concierge checked her in and programmed her card key, she compared the luxurious lobby around her to the run-down motel where Max was staying. He obviously earned some sort of living flying supplies. So, was he a bad businessman, or did he choose to live like a derelict with that scruffy beard?
    Funny how his appearance hadn’t turned her off at all.
    â€œShall I have a steward bring up your luggage, Ms. Sandstone?” The concierge handed her the room key.
    â€œEr, no. Thank you.” It’d been too late to retrieve it from the plane. But she was nothing if not a veteran traveler. She kept everything from Anbesol to Zantac—including an emergency outfit and toiletries—in her huge purse. She’d used a portion of her emergency cash bribing the clerks for information on how to find the White Wolf, but she should have enough to last her a week, give or take, plus her charge cards.
    She took the key. “Is Eric here this evening?”
    â€œI believe he’s just leaving. I’ll try to catch him, if you’d like to wait?” He gestured toward the plush sofas around the piano bar.
    â€œThank you.” She settled into a club chair, pulled out her laptop and found the next flight to L.A. via Seattle. Then on impulse she checked flights into Barrow. There was one tomorrow morning with a layover in Fairbanks. She closed her laptop without booking either.
    What if her father had given up at the first roadblock to his investigation?
    â€œMs. Sandstone?” Eric, her favorite concierge, strode up, a grin on his face. He was younger