Chapter Four

MAY 22

Daphne:Edge is going to debut number two on the New York Times list!

Chris:That's good, right?

Daphne:It's AMAZING!!!

Chris:Cool. Maybe you'll hit number one next week.

Daphne:LOL. Nah, there's a Stephen King book in number one.

Chris:Who?

Chris:Wait! I know that guy. He does movies, right? I liked "It." Does he also write books?

Daphne:Yes. Yes, he does.

MAY 29

Daphne:OMG! Edge hit #1!!!!!

Chris:Huh. Guess that Steve guy isn't so good after all.

Daphne:His book came out months ago, and I probably outsold him by two copies. My publisher is THRILLED, though. They want more books!

Chris:You need to write more?

Daphne:I WANT to write more.

Chris:Huh. But I guess if they pay you well, that's good, right? You can afford to move someplace warmer.

Chris:D? You still there?

MAY 30

Chris:Hey, D! Did you see the email? Your publisher wants me to go on tour. Cool, huh?

Daphne:No.

Chris:Not cool?

Daphne:No touring. It's in the contract.

Chris: I don't mind. I'd like signing books. I'll wear my glasses.

Daphne:I mean Lawrence, my agent, put a clause in my contract. I don't have to do touring or in-person events unless I hit a certain sales level, which I will never—

Daphne:Lawrence just texted. Can I get back to you?

MAY 31

Daphne:You got the information for the tour, right?

Chris:I did!

Daphne:Four stops. We're going to need to prepare. A lot.

Chris:But you'll be with me, right?

Daphne:They'll assign you an escort.

Chris:Uh, that's an interesting perk, but I think I'm good.

Daphne:What?

Daphne:Not THAT kind of escort. A media escort.

Chris:That doesn't sound nearly as interesting. Why don't you come along?

Daphne:It's complicated.

Chris: I don't think it is. You're the writer, and you should be there.

Daphne:I… I can't.

Chris:Cell phone troubles incoming, right?

Daphne:No. I just… I'm really busy. And you'll do great. I know you will.

Chris:Okay. We'll talk later. I gotta go.

JUNE 2

Daphne:What the #$%@ hell, Chris?

Chris:You actually typed #$%@. That's so cute.

Daphne:You agreed to an in-person interview? At MY HOME???

Chris:It's New Gotham magazine. You saw the email from Lyndsay. Wait, is it still Lyndsay? I can't keep track.

Daphne:Chris…

Chris:You saw the email. This is HUGE. They want to fly all the way to Whitehorse to interview Zane. New Gotham Magazine! Even I know what that is. I don't think we could say no.

Daphne: How about letting me try?

Chris:Honestly, D, it didn't seem like your publisher was actually asking. They were just letting you know it was happening. If you want to tell them you've changed your mind, go ahead. I'll stay out of it.

Chris:D? You still there?

Daphne:Yes. You're right. They didn't seem to be asking. Sorry I snapped.

Chris:I've got this. Don't worry. It's not until next Friday. I'll drive up.

Daphne:Do you even know where Whitehorse is?

Chris:Couple hours north.

Daphne:By PLANE.

Chris:Then I'll fly. I still have that bonus you paid me for hitting the New Yorker list.

Daphne:New York Times.

Chris:I'll call once I'm there.

Daphne:You are not coming here.

Daphne:Chris?

Chris was on his way to Whitehorse. To her house. And she still didn't know how this happened. As she frantically cleaned, Nia kept texting.

Nia:Stop cleaning.

Daphne:I'm just tidying up.

Nia:I've seen your house. It's freakishly clean. Always.

Nia:Some people stress-eat. You stress-clean.

Nia:It's just Chris.

Daphne:It's not ‘just Chris.' It's a New Gotham film crew. A FILM CREW. Coming to my house.

Nia:You mean a photographer. They're a magazine, Daphne.

Daphne:They have a new TV show, and they're filming a segment on Zane.

Nia:!!!!!

Daphne:They told us YESTERDAY. They'll be here for two days. TWO DAYS.

Nia:That is amazing promo!!!

Daphne couldn't argue with that. She could, however, totally freak out over it.

Her phone rang. It was Nia.

"Yes?" Daphne said as she answered.

"Put me on speaker. That way I won't interrupt your crazy-ass cleaning."

"You are now on speaker."

A long pause.

"Nia?"

"Are you okay, Daf? I mean, besides the current freaking out. Are you okay with all this?"

"With the book doing so well? I'm torn between being thrilled and full-on hyperventilating panic, but we've discussed this, and I'm not currently in need of soothing. Check back tomorrow."

"I mean the Zane stuff. Chris is great. He really is, and I'm thrilled you two are getting along so well."

Daphne's stomach clenched at that. This was the problem with Nia knowing Chris and being the one who set them up. She wasn't comfortable telling her friend when Chris did something like agree to an interview without consulting her. As far as Nia knew, Daphne was delighted with Chris. Not entirely untrue, but it still pricked her conscience when Nia gushed over how well they were getting on.

Daphne said nothing as she inspected the sofa for dog hair.

Nia continued, "This is different, though. It's one thing to have his photo on your book or have him giving interviews. You never cared about those things. But him going on tour instead of you? Being interviewed in your house?"

Oh yes. That was very different, and Daphne was struggling not to feel something dangerously close to resentment. Admitting that, though, would be admitting that there were flaws with the plan she and Nia had brainstormed together.

"I'm fine with it," Daphne said.

"He's going to be in your house, pretending he wrote your book and—"

The beep of an incoming call cut Nia short.

"It's Chris," Daphne said. "I need to take this. Call you back?"

Nia said sure, and Daphne took a moment to switch calls. Why would Chris be phoning two hours before his flight departed? To cancel. That seemed the only explanation. He'd cancel, and a film crew would show up tomorrow afternoon to find the house occupied by a woman who was definitely not Zane Remington.

Daphne answered with a tentative "Hello?"

"Hey!" Chris said. "It's me."

The knot in her stomach tightened. That breezy tone warned of bad news.

He was going to say he wouldn't make it. Something had come up, maybe an audition for a real job.

"Daphne? Did I lose you?"

"No, I'm here."

A soft chuckle. "Good. I know your cell service is wonky, but I've got four solid bars here. Maybe you should get another provider?"

"It's been good lately." She paused. "Wait? Where are you?"

Another chuckle, this one a bit forced. "Close to you, I hope. That's kinda the problem. I'm lost."

"What? You're in Whitehorse?"

"Outside it. On your road. At least, that's what the signpost said, but it's a dirt road and I haven't seen anything in miles. There aren't even any houses."

"You—" Daphne put him on speaker and scrambled to open her email. "You're supposed to be on the midnight flight. I'm picking you up."

"Surprise!" Another chuckle, this one still a bit forced. "I caught an earlier flight and rented a car to surprise you. Except all I have is your street address, and the GPS swears it doesn't exist. I got to the right road, and, man, what are they thinking, renting out little cars at the airport? These are mountains! Dirt roads and mountains! I nearly went into the ditch, and then there was a moose just standing in the road. Did you know there are moose here?"

Daphne squeezed her eyes shut. "Yes. Yes, there are."

"Well, someone needs to train them to stay off the road."

"Tell me where you are, and I'll come get you."

"Uh…"

"Look around. What do you see?"

"Trees."

She shook her head. "What's the last thing you passed."

"Trees. And a moose. Maybe if I just keep going?"

"It's a long road, and it's only going to get worse. Can you add me as a friend so I can track your location?"

"Oh! Right! Hold on." A few seconds passed. "There. Do you see me?"

"I do. Stay where you are. Don't get out of the car. There are grizzlies."

"What?"

"I'm kidding. Well, not about there being grizzlies. I have one that visits the yard every now and then. Mostly it's just black bears, lynx, coyotes, foxes, and porcupines. Oh, and I saw a wolf last week."

"I'll… stay in my car."

Chris did not stay in his car. He couldn't, not with this spectacular view. He'd pulled over halfway down a mountainside. Perched on the hood of his rental car, he could see the valley stretched out for miles. Endless green in so many shades that his mind boggled.

He took a deep breath. Crisp clean air flooded his lungs. It smelled different here. Tasted different, if that made any sense. He'd noticed it as soon as he'd left the tiny Whitehorse airport.

Also, he'd seen a moose. An actual not-in-a-zoo moose. He'd come around the corner, the tiny car skating in the dirt, and the moose had been ambling across the road. Seeing him, it'd galloped into the forest on impossibly long legs, and he'd sat there, catching his breath, torn between "I just saw a moose!" and "I almost hit a moose!"

He might be a city boy, but he knew that car-moose encounters rarely went well for the car… or the people inside. He'd been channeling Chris Ainsworth with that "train them to stay off the road" comment, but he'd been serious about the rental agency having cars this tiny. They'd sold out of SUVs before he arrived, and he ended up with a subcompact that slid on these hills like a skateboard and would provide as much protection in a wildlife encounter.

"You look like you're lost, city slicker."

He jumped up as Daphne rounded the corner on foot. Seeing her, his heart did a double slam. God, she was gorgeous. Today, she looked like a sporting goods ad, the sort he might see in a magazine and think, Maybe I should get out of the city more often. She wore boots and athletic shorts that just covered her ass and showed off her curves and muscles to full advantage. A T-shirt hugged her generous chest, and she wore her hair up in a messy ponytail, tendrils curling down around her sunglasses.

She also had that most necessary of accessories: a dog. This one was as gorgeous as her owner, looking like a fluffy black wolf with blue eyes. He focused his attention there so Daphne wouldn't catch him ogling her. Then he hopped off the car hood and crouched, calling, "Tika!"

The dog stopped dead and growled.

"That's not her name?" he said.

"It is. But she's half wolf. Last person who made a sudden move around her…?" Daphne shook her head. "So much blood."

She caught his look and smiled. "I'm kidding, Chris. She's a quarter wolf, tops. You just startled her, that's all."

She patted the dog, who leaned into her leg, sucking up the attention. When Chris stepped forward to pet her, though, Tika growled, ears flattening.

"Weird," Daphne said. "She never does that."

Great. He'd been in the Yukon less than an hour, and he'd already made Daphne come fetch him and pissed off her dog.

A truck whipped around the corner, dust flying. Seeing them, the driver hit the brakes and leaned out the driver's window with his gaze fixed on Daphne. He was about their age with rugged good looks, dark wavy hair, and the tanned skin of an outdoorsman.

A gray wolf leapt from the back of the guy's pickup. Chris jumped. He might even have yelped.

Daphne smiled. "It's just a husky."

The dog ran over and greeted Tika with kisses and whines, while the guy in the pickup looked at Daphne as if he'd like to do the same to her.

"Robbie," Daphne said. "This is… Zane. A… a friend of mine."

Chris stuck out a hand. The guy's gaze swung down and stopped at Chris's feet. Chris looked at his dress shoes, once polished brown, now gray with dust.

"Better get your friend some proper footwear." Robbie's gaze slid to the rental car. "And a proper vehicle. Did he get stuck going downhill?"

"I was admiring the scenery," Chris said.

Robbie looked from Chris to Daphne and back again. "Yeah, I bet you were. Next time, don't do it from the middle of the road. That's a surefire way to get yourself killed." He shook his head. "Tourists."

Robbie turned to Daphne. "You coming to the neighborhood BBQ tomorrow? Pam said you haven't answered yet. I volunteered to pop by and deliver the invitation in person."

Daphne smiled up at him. "That's sweet, but I can't make it. Work."

He leaned on the window ledge. "You need any wood chopped? I can do that for you."

As Robbie's gaze devoured Daphne, Chris bristled. Oh, he wanted to do a lot more than chop her wood.

Daphne only smiled and shook her head. "I've got plenty, and I like chopping it myself. Good exercise. Thank you for offering, though."

"You need anything—anything at all—you just give me a shout. I know you're out there by yourself. Some things require a man's touch."

Robbie's gaze bounced off Chris dismissively. Then he called his dog into the truck and rolled off down the hill.

How embarrassing had that been, dealing with Robbie's crap in front of Chris? Only a handful of people lived on the lake—six houses, to be precise, two of them summer-only. Daphne adored all her neighbors… except Robbie. After he'd moved into a rented shack last year, he'd taken one look at her house and decided he knew how to get an upgrade. After all, she was a woman on her own. She needed a man. To chop wood.

She knew exactly where Robbie wanted to stuff his wood.

Worse, it wasn't even because he liked her. She was just the chick he'd need to bang to get into her house.

Living so isolated, she didn't dare tell him to screw off. He knew where to find her. He also knew she lived alone. She couldn't even rely on her dog to scare him off—Tika was too fond of his dog.

The month after Robbie moved into the neighborhood, Daphne installed a security system. She hated that. It was bad enough that she felt unsafe in her own home. So much worse that she knew who made her feel unsafe and could do nothing except refuse his advances politely for fear of setting him off.

It rankled so much. And now Chris had witnessed her humiliation, watching her be all sugar-sweet to such an asshole.

"Do you want to drive?" Chris asked, holding up the keys.

Yep, compared to Robbie, Chris was a sweetheart.

Daphne took the keys and whistled for Tika. The dog eyed Chris, and for a moment, Daphne thought she wasn't going to get into the car. But after giving him a careful once-over, the dog hopped in, as if maybe the guy wasn't so bad after all.

You and me both, pup. You and me both.

As Chris walked to the passenger door, her brain pulled up a snapshot from five minutes ago, when she'd rounded the corner to see him lounging on the hood of the car, in his expensive loafers and pressed jeans and button-down shirt rolled up to his elbows. He'd looked like one of those intentionally incongruous advertisements that strode the line between quirky and stylish. An ad for that scotch she'd bought him.

Why, yes, my clothing and my vehicle are completely unsuited to this environment, but a man who looks like me is at home wherever he goes.

And this was the guy who'd be lounging around her home for three days.