Page 7 of Falling for the Recluse

“The expedition handbook and training were pretty specific about cold weather clothing.” Josie unzips the high neck of her fleece and fans her face. “I went to about four stores to ensure I was getting the right stuff.”

I skim my gaze over her shirt, my heartbeat rising. “What are you wearing under that?”

“This?” She looks down at her thick coveralls. “A few thin layers. That’s what they told me to wear outside, as long as it doesn’t make me sweat.”

“Right.” I cross my arms and nod. “Sweating outside can be dangerous. Your clothing size is also critical for safety. Do your layers fit properly? Are they too big or too small?”

“I don’t think so.” She examines her sleeves. “Why? Do they look like they don’t fit?”

“Hard to tell.”

“Oh.” She lowers her arms back to her sides, her inquisitive eyes returning to me. “I guess I need another lesson, then. How do I find out if my clothes fit properly?”

“There’s only one way, Ms. Bennett.” I point my chin to the zipper of her coveralls. “You need to strip.”

ChapterFive

JOSIE

His deep commandreverberates through me like the vibration of a jackhammer. Even though I’m in the coldest place on earth, I’m overheated from the outside in. My skin is warm, but my blood is close to simmering.

Because of…him.

Dr. Gavin Stark is everything I’d expected—scowly, bad-tempered, abrupt, and irritated by my very presence in his remote lair.

He’s also nothing like what I’d expected. I thought that maybe he really was some hunched-over, troll-like creature, but that image shattered into oblivion the instant I saw him striding toward us at the dock, his long legs eating up the distance in seconds.

He’s tall. Big. His muscular arms and broad shoulders look as if they can carry any weight. Maybe living here at the bottom of the world, he’s holding up the entire planet.

His thick hair is the color of chestnuts and shot through with strands of gold. Even with an apparently permanent glower, his face is arresting—dark eyebrows, a beautifully shaped mouth, and cheekbones that could cut glass. When I first saw him, I immediately wanted to rub my nose against the stubble coating his square jaw.

As if he hadn’t been captivating enough on the dock, my fascination went supernova when he took off his parka to reveal a gray Henley that fit snugly over his muscled torso and arms. I still can’t stop my eyes from darting back to his chest. The top buttons of his shirt are undone, and the tantalizing glimpse of taut skin and dark hair makes my mouth water.

Which is all so unprofessional. Dr. Gavin Stark is my superior. He’s in charge. He’s the boss. I was told to do exactly as he orders. Gawking at him is totally inappropriate.

So are the hot thoughts and images ricocheting through my brain.

I should not be thinking any of them, even if the attraction between us is getting so intense it’s almost tangible. I’ve never felt anything like it before. Never engaged in a hot spontaneous encounter with anyone, much less a man like him.

Though I’m courageous when it comes to my career, I’ve never been aggressive in my personal life. Just the opposite. It’s been easier to focus on work and school without the entanglements of a romantic relationship.

So it really makes no sense that I want to dive headfirst into all things Gavin Stark—his intelligence, his experience, his knowledge, and his downright hotness.

Or maybe it makes all the sense in the world. This fierce pull I have toward him might be intensified by the magnetic charge of the South Pole. Still, maybe there are a thousand other mystical, intangible reasons we ended up alone together at the bottom of the world.

He says something else, though his words are drowned out by the increasing thump of my heartbeat.

I rub my neck. “Um…excuse me?”

“Take off your clothes.” He narrows his gaze on the zipper of my fleece. “I need to make sure you’re dressed correctly before allowing you to do any fieldwork. It’s procedure.”

I huff out a laugh, but his expression is implacable. Though he’s been growly and short with me, I don’t really think he’s an asshole or even an Ice Prick. A man who shuts himself off from the world and spends all his time studying massive ice formations is bound to have anti-social tendencies.

Maybe Dr. Stark just needs human contact to bring out his more civilized nature. And I’m the only other human in a hundred-mile radius.

My pulse rises. At the very least, I need to find out if my hypothesis is correct. Not to mention, I’m long overdue for a certain kind of human contact too.

“Procedure,” I repeat.

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