Iditarod Nights by Cindy Hiday Read Free Book Online Page A

rhythm
that Claire felt through his entire body. He gave a half-smile of
regret and looked past her to Andy. "Did we wake you, sport?"
    "I smelled hot chocolate."
    Claire leaned into Dillon a moment longer,
her equilibrium not quite stable. She felt his lips against her
hair. "Did we just run to Nome?"
    She smiled into the side of his neck. "I
think so." And then she was able to pull out of his arms, smooth
the front of her sweatshirt where it had ridden up, and turn to
face Andy. "Sit at the table, hon. I'll fix you a mug."
    "Are you guys finished kissing?" he asked,
unconvinced.
    Claire shot Dillon a quick, self-conscious
glance.
    He winked and she felt her cheeks grow hot.
"For now," he told the boy, all the while looking at Claire. The
heat in her cheeks intensified. He pushed her hair back, tucking it
behind her ear, his calloused fingers gentle.
    And not quite steady. Claire felt a tug of
panic. In spite of her resistance to the idea, she was falling for
the guy. "I'll get that hot chocolate."
     
     

Chapter 8
     
    From the back of the crowded Millennium
Hotel's banquet room, Claire tried to focus on the veteran musher
on stage recounting an experience he had during last year's
Iditarod. But she couldn't hear anything over the dull roar in her
ears. She couldn't seem to draw enough air into her lungs to shake
off the blackness moving in on her peripheral vision.
    So lightheaded ...
    The room tipped and the black curtain drew
together. A strong arm circled her waist and kept her from diving
to the floor.
    "Let's get out of here." Dillon's breath
brushed her ear.
    Claire nodded. He grabbed their coats and
guided her out to the parking area. Bracing herself against the
side of the Land Cruiser, Claire gulped the crisp night air and
felt her head clear.
    "Better?"
    "Yes. Thanks." She gave a self-conscious
laugh and rubbed her arms. "I don't know what came over me."
    Dillon helped her into her parka. "Too much
excitement, too little sleep. I'm having the same problem."
    She cast him a skeptical look.
"Seriously?"
    He shrugged into his own parka.
"Seriously."
    "I just thought, since you'd done this before
– "
    "I'd be used to it?" He leaned against the
side of the Land Cruiser, his shoulder pressed to hers. "If
anything, it's worse. I've been there. I know what to expect. Happy
River, Dalzell Gorge, the Buffalo Tunnels. I almost scratched at
Kaltag my first year. The wind and cold on the Yukon was
brutal."
    "Then why keep coming back?"
    He looked up at the night sky; Claire looked
at him. It was easy to do. "There's a raw beauty on the Iditarod
Trail you won't find anywhere else. You'll discover what you're
made of." The intensity in his eyes when he looked back at her
stole her breath. "And you'll never be the same when it's
over."
    She felt it even now. Her work with the dogs.
Time spent absorbing the culture and uniqueness of Alaska. She was
already changed. Alaska had gotten into her blood.
    And so had this man. She knew too little
about him, outside of a past he refused to discuss and an ex-wife
who resented his job, whatever that may have been. She didn't like
secrets, especially the kind that might pop up to bite her on the
ass when least expected.
    But she could still taste his kiss.
    A shiver ran through her and she glanced
away.
    "You're cold," he said. "Let's get in."
    Claire felt time press down on her as she
gazed out the passenger window at the waning moon. She'd heard
Iditarod nights were the worst. Bitter winds, incredible
loneliness, cold intense enough to freeze alcohol. In the past few
days, there'd been little time to worry about it, with the pre-race
veterinary check at Iditarod Headquarters in Wasilla yesterday, the
dogs examined and wormed, proof of vaccinations, health
certificates and microchip ID. Brian brought the Warren truck over
and helped Dillon transport his team, while Claire and Matt took
her team in the Sommers' truck.
    Then early this morning she and Dillon drove
the hundred miles to