Sentinel/The Thing from Another World

Baked, Boiled, or Fried

Part C

It took some time.  

I was in charge, this research station was my responsibility, and I needed to see things were under control before I confronted him about leaving me with that note on my chest.  

The message from General Fogarty let me off the hook about the thermite bomb.  

I was able to touch Sandburg a couple of times, helping him to his feet when he fell back on his ass in a surprisingly intense reaction to what was in the block of ice; backing him against Carrington when the older scientist took him to task for his reaction to our interstellar visitor.  

I was gratified by his response to me each time.  

I informed the scientists that we'd have to hear from Fogarty before they could have the Thing in the ice, and that got them off my back, at least temporarily.  

I set up four-hour watches. Then I got a look at that Thing in the ice's eyes, and I cut the watches from four hours to two.  

Finally, we left Joel to the freezing solitude of that storeroom, and I persuaded Sandburg to show me to the quarters that had been allocated to me and my men, instead of having Mrs. Chapman do that, as he had first intended.  

"But then I really need to get to my laboratory." He led me down the corridor, and I took the opportunity to admire the view from the rear. "Dr. Carrington is going to want the results of the experiments I've been running."  

"We have a little unfinished business, wouldn't you say?"  

"Do we?" He stopped short to look at me, and I managed to get my eyes up to his face before he realized I was groping his ass with my eyes.  

"Look, we might as well have this conversation now, Chief."  

"In that case maybe you can tell me when it was you forgot my name."  

"What? What are you talking about?" I hadn't forgotten his name, I'd just been so out in limbo that I'd missed it completely.  

"Never once did you use my name."  

"Oh, come on, Chief. You're exaggerating." Damn Dale Carnegie for his book about winning friends and influencing people. I'd tried to let Blair know how much I liked him by using his name as frequently as I could, only I'd had to use 'Chief', and it looked like that was coming back to smack me in the mouth.  

"You think so? How many times have you called me 'Chief' in the last half hour?"  

"Once or twice?"  

"Eight."  

"You were counting?" I was flattered. He'd been paying close enough attention that he actually knew the number of times I had called him 'Chief'. "No, I'm sure I used your first name." I had to have called him 'Blair' at least once.  

"You didn't," he huffed, "but if I'm wrong, fine. What is my name?"  

"Blair." I took the opportunity to enjoy his flustered expression.  

"You knew it? All this time you knew it?"  

In a split second his expression smoothed, and maybe he could fool other people into thinking he was indifferent to the fact that I did know his name, but I could see he was pleased. I wondered what was going on in his mind. Whatever it was, I wasn't going to admit that I'd been so fascinated by the sight and scent of him that the introduction had gone right over my head.  

"If you knew it, why didn't you use it?" He stopped in front of a door that was just one of several in this corridor that looked the same.  

//Think fast, Ellison.// "Is this where we'll be staying?" I walked past him into the room, making a production of examining it, but it was like every army barracks I had ever been in, cots in each corner, footlockers at the foot of each cot. I was actually watching Blair from the corner of my eye. 

He gave a brief, cursory run-down of the polar camp, but returned almost immediately to the topic that seemed to concern him most. "Jim, are you going to tell me why you didn't call me by my name?"  

The best defense was a good offense. "Is that why you ran out on me?"  

"I didn't run out!" He was disconcerted. "I told you I had a plane to catch!"  

"You did?"  

"Didn't I?" His brow furrowed as if he was trying to recall and not succeeding very well. "Well, I left you a note."  

"Yeah, and thank you so much. Did you have to leave it on my chest where everyone could see it? The whole flight up Taggart ragged me about my 'cute legs'."  

I had meant it as a joke, but he was suddenly distraught.  

"Oh, shit, I'm so sorry, man!" Color drained from his face. "I didn't even think… Oh, shit. Is this a punishment detail? Are they going to court-martial you? Are you going to be dishonorably discharged? What are they going to do to you?"  

"If you can shut your mouth long enough, maybe I can tell you." I was touched that he was so concerned for my future. The military didn't look kindly on sexual preferences that were anything other than what was considered the norm.  

"Shutting my mouth." He looked so distressed. I didn't want him looking distressed.  

"There's no problem, Blair." I couldn't resist stepping closer to him. He wasn't wearing aftershave; there was stubble on his cheeks and chin, and I assumed he was growing in a beard to ward off the Arctic chill. Whatever scent he was wearing roused me as nothing I could remember.  

"There isn't?"  

"You signed it with the letter 'C'. The men thought it was from my ex-wife, and I didn't see any need to tell them differently."  

"Why would they think your ex-wife would be in the BOQ with you? Just how 'ex' is she?"  

Was he jealous? I kind of liked the idea of him being green-eyed. "They're die-hard romantics and think I'll be much happier with someone warming my bed on a regular basis. They're partially right, I'd be happier with… *someone*… in my bed." He blushed at my flirting, and I continued, "They've conveniently forgotten what a beast I was when I was with my ex. And she's as 'ex' as you can get, Chief. I have to keep track of her so I know where to send the alimony checks," and I wished she'd find some other poor schnook to marry. It wasn't paying the alimony so much as the fact that I was still tied to her through it. "But the last I heard, she was taking a job out of the states."  

"Oh. Well..." 

"Mind telling me why you used the letter 'C'?" If it wasn't his first initial, as I now knew, then what the hell did it stand for? 

"Well, you kept calling me 'Chief'. I wasn't sure how you would take it if I signed it with my initials." 

I started to laugh. "No, I can see signing a letter 'BS' could be taken the wrong way."  

"I apologize for the note, Jim. I was a little irate at the time."  

"A little? I'd hate to see you in a full-blown snit."  

"Hey! I don't have snits, full-blown or otherwise!"  

"Of course not, Chief. Sorry. *Blair*. So that's what got your shorts in a bunch. I guess it's my turn to apologize." I decided I'd give him part of the truth. "The drinks we had at that last place…What was it called?"  

"The Hideaway. You don't remember the Hideaway's name?"  

After we'd left Machu-Picchu, I didn't remember much about anything. "Do you have any idea what was in those drinks?"  

"Uh… No."  

"I do." I could identify every ingredient. "Pepper Pot Vodka. Dry vermouth. Clamato juice. Olive juice. After that first drink, I don't remember anything very clearly." My senses had overloaded. "When I woke up the next morning…"  

When I explained about reaching the airport too late, he looked devastated. When I told him of my attempts to get the information from Henri Brown, he looked tickled. And when I told him of my intention to track him down and get things sorted between us, he looked like a kid on Christmas morning, finding that Santa had left everything he'd asked for under the tree.  

"You were going to come for me?" Why was he so surprised?  

"Yeah."  

"I … I didn't expect that, Jim."   

"You should have. Don't you have any idea how attracted I am to you? I haven't felt like this about anyone in a very long time, Chief." Ever, but I didn't want to scare him off.  

"Uh… I… uh… "  

"Blair. God, the way you smell! Everything about you makes me want you!" I had him backed up against a wall, breathing in his scent. I worried his earlobe and learned something very interesting about Blair Sandburg. His earlobes were a highly erogenous zone. I licked and sucked and nipped them.  

"Jim! Please!" Blair begging had me hard.  

"Yes!" I brought my thigh up against the vee of his legs, intent on pleasuring him until he couldn't remember which end was up. I wanted to make him come in his pants like a randy kid. And I was sure I wouldn't be far behind him. The last time my dick had been this hard was…  

I was pretty sure it was the other night when I'd also been with Blair.  

His breath was coming in pants and hitches, and I wallowed in the heat that rolled off him, burning the skin at the base of my throat.  

A noise in the corridor jerked me out of my sensual haze. "Someone's coming."  

"Huh?" He looked as dazed and shell-shocked as I felt. I could have howled in frustration.  

"You okay, Chief? Just a second!" I snarled at the hapless door. I didn't want anyone to see Blair looking like that except me. I gave him a minute to pull himself together, then growled, "Come in."  

A pleasant-looking woman of indeterminate age entered. "Captain Ellison? How do you do? I'm Esther Chapman. I hope I haven't come at a bad time. I wanted to welcome you to our little slice of heaven." Her smile was warm and motherly, and I found myself liking her. "Have you seen Dr… Ah, Blair! There you are. Arthur is looking for you."  

"He is?" Blair sounded less than enthusiastic.  

"Something about the MacCormick mold spores?"  

"Yes. The experiment should be almost finished now. Jim, I have to run. Can we finish this… um… discussion another time?"  

"Count on it, Chief. Over a cup of coffee?"  

"Sounds good, Jim." Oh, that voice.  

"See you later, Blair." I watched him as he left the room. He paused just before he shut the door, and I was willing to swear I could hear his pants slide over his cock and balls as he adjusted himself.  

"Come to the mess hall, Captain Ellison. After having been out on the ice all afternoon, I'm sure you can use a hot meal."  

"Yes, ma'am." I hoped Mrs. Chapman would think the grin on my face was anticipation at the notion of having something hot in my stomach, and not wolfish at the thought of something hot, like Blair's lips, wrapped around my dick.  

I turned away, pretending to search for something in a pocket of my flight suit. Once I was certain I had my expression under control once more, I turned back and was startled when she reached up to cup my cheek. Her eyes searched mine, and then they crinkled in a smile.  

I swallowed and gestured toward the door. "After you?"  

"Thank you, Captain Ellison. It's such a pleasure to meet someone in this station with manners. Aside from my husband, of course, and Blair. The scientists here tend to get so enthralled with their experiments and their discoveries, and their constant quest for knowledge that they tend to forget the niceties that make it easier to get along together in society."  

"Oh? Have you… uh… known Blair long?"  

Mrs. Chapman didn't question that I'd ignored mention of the other scientists and asked about the man I wanted for my lover. "We met him when Hugo was teaching a course in mineralogy at Rainier University . He must have been about sixteen, a heart-stealer even then, and he didn't even know it. We stayed in touch through the years and were overjoyed when, a couple of years ago, after he'd been awarded his doctorate in botany, Dr. Stern, who's the head botanist on this project, persuaded Dr. Carrington he'd be perfect to join our little band."  

"Blair's a botanist?"  

"Didn't you know?"  

I'd had no idea. "From his conversation, I'd gathered he was an anthropologist."  

"That's what he would have preferred, but his mentor at Rainier University persuaded him otherwise." She arched her eyebrow at the sound I made. "Please don't think Blair regrets his choice. He's since told us that it had been impossible for him to find a Sentinel, which would have been the topic of his dissertation."  

"A sentinel? You mean like a scout?"  

"No, actually more like a watchman."  

"Sorry, that really doesn't seem interesting."  

"Ask Blair to explain it to you sometime, Captain Ellison. You'll find it's very interesting. You see, these watchmen had enhanced senses. They used these senses to protect the tribe, to track weather patterns, the movement of game, the approach of enemies."  

I remembered that little island in the Pacific and the machine gun nest camouflaged with bushes and palm fronds, the sharp scent of the Japs' excitement, the subtle noises they made as they shifted behind their machine guns, the sour odor of my own men's fear.  

"There are actually people like these sentinels today?"  

"Blair was able to find a few with one or two enhanced senses, but none with all five. Well, it was our good fortune. He's an excellent botanist, and Dr. Stern, who's the head botanist in this station, has been considering Blair as his assistant instead of Andrew Laurenz. Much of Professor Laurenz's research has been given to Blair, this experiment with the MacCormick molds for example. He has seniority over Blair, and he isn't pleased with this turn of events."  

"And I thought things could be cut-throat in the military."  

"Don't you believe it for a moment, Captain. You haven't seen down-and-dirty until you've seen what scientists are willing to do in their search for more knowledge. And here we are at the mess hall."  

I was about to push the door open for her when she touched my arm.  

"Captain Ellison, Hugo and I don't have children, but Blair Sandburg is the son of our heart. Blair thinks because I was born at night, I was born *last* night." There was amusement in her eyes.  

I was startled by her words. "Excuse me?"  

"I'm quite aware he likes men, although I've never felt the need to discuss it with him. I'm also aware I walked in on something earlier, for which I do apologize."  

"No, ma'am, I assure you…"  

"Captain, Blair is very tidy; he usually keeps his shirt tucked into his trousers."  

"What… You… I don't…" My face felt hot. I cleared my throat. "Ma'am?"  

"Let me put it like this. Neither my husband nor I would be happy if Blair were unhappy."  

She nodded toward the door and I opened it, and she entered the mess hall. I was right behind her, and there was another surprise waiting for me in the room.  

Only this one wasn't as enjoyable as finding Blair Sandburg at this particular polar camp.  

I heard the voice, but I assured myself it couldn't be *her*. God would not be so unfair as to maroon me at the top of the world in the middle of a blizzard, my plane disabled by a smashed landing ski, with the one person guaranteed to drive me to the brink of slicing my own throat.  

The almighty must have been laughing up his sleeve at the predicament I found myself in.  

"Jimmy!" My ex-wife glared at me. She didn't sound any happier to see me than I was to see her.  

"Hello, Carolyn." My stomach started churning out acid. "I didn't expect to see you at the North Pole. You always claimed to hate cold weather. When you said you were getting a job out of the states, somehow I pictured someplace like Hawaii ."  

"Don't you take that long-suffering tone with me, James Joseph Ellison!"  

"Sorry. How have you been?" I just bit back the 'dear' that had become a conditioned reflex toward the end of our marriage.  

"As if you care! Daddy won't hire me for his firm, he says women should stay in the kitchen, they're happier there, and they don't have the aptitude for office work. I can barely get by on the pittance your lawyer saw to it was all I would get, so I've had to get a job, and this was the only job that offered decent pay." Her expression suddenly became calculating. "Why don't we go back to my room? We could talk over a possible increase in my alimony. Maybe I'll let you convince me…"  

The room became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. I had no qualms interrupting her. "No, Carolyn."  

"… to take you back … No? *No*?" I sighed. Nails on the blackboard. "Well, you seem to be following me! If you aren't, then what are you doing here? Do you expect me to believe…"  

"I was ordered here."  

Her eyes narrowed, her lips parted, and then they snapped shut as she realized we had an audience. Mrs. Chapman had her back to us, and her shoulders were quaking. Somehow I didn't think she was shedding tears. Station staff and security were listening, jaws agape.  

Carolyn turned bright red. My ex-wife was always careful to preserve her ladylike façade, and as a result, I was one of the few people to see what she was like when she lost her temper.  

She spun sharply on her heel and stalked toward the door, yanking it open viciously, pulling it shut behind her just as viciously.  

The occupants of the mess hall glanced furtively toward me before they quickly found other things to engage their interests.  

"Sorry about that, Mrs. Chapman."  

"No need for you to apologize for her, Captain."  

"Call me Jim, ma'am."  

"Do you mind if I ask whatever possessed you to marry her, Jim?"  

I shrugged. My father had been after me again to settle down. 'You'll be 40 before you know it, Jimmy.'  

'Dad, I haven't reached 35 yet!'  

He waved aside my words, something he constantly did when he was trying to make a point. Or even if he wasn't trying to make a point. 'If you don't get married soon, people are going to think there's something… odd… about you.'  

By 'odd' he meant queer, and I couldn't afford to have that sort of reputation, not if I wanted to stay in the military. I was starting to wonder if living the way I'd been, hiding my sexuality, was worth the stress.  

"It seemed a like a good idea at the time?"  

"If I may offer a suggestion? Don't let her catch you alone. She may claim to have no fondness for you, but she seems to have even less fondness for this job. I think she may decide you're the lesser of two evils."  

I groaned. "I appreciate your advice, Mrs. Chapman, but I don't understand why you'd want to involve yourself in my affairs."  

"Two reasons, Jim. One, I think she's very wrong for you." She ushered me to a seat at a long table. "Lee, a bowl of stew for Captain Ellison, and a cup of coffee. Lee makes the best coffee north of the 60^th Parallel."  

She fussed, making sure I had a napkin and silverware, and finally I asked, "What's the second reason, Mrs. Chapman?"  

Her smile was satisfied. "I don't think Blair would be very happy about it."  

****  

I entered the number 4 storeroom. A glance at the thermometer beside the door told me the temperature was 0, next stop, ten below. I was glad I had stopped back at the barracks and put on my flight suit.  

"Hi, Jim."  

"For someone who's been sitting in a twelve by twelve room with no heat and the outdoors trying to make its way indoors, you're sounding awfully cheerful."  

Joel Taggart gave me a broad grin and made a production of adjusting the blanket that was draped around his shoulders.  

"Where did that come from?"  

"Courtesy of Connor. Her heart isn't as cold as we always thought it was. She told me she felt so bad for me, sitting in here, freezing my ass, her words, by the way, with only the company of Plug Ugly in the ice there, that she brought me the blanket and that thermos of coffee you see on the desk as a gesture of good will."  

"*Connor* felt bad? *Connor*? Why am I having such a hard time with that concept?"  

"You just don't understand women, Jim." He rose and tossed the blanket over a stack of crates.  

"Oh, no?"  

"No. She even brought a flask of whiskey. I had to turn it down of course, seeing as how I'm on duty and all."  

"Don't bullshit me, big guy. If you turned down a whiskey, it wasn't because you were on duty!"  

He rested his hand over his heart. "I'm cut to the quick, James!" Then he burst into deep chuckles. "You're right, although it was a little funny. Funny strange, not funny ha ha."  

I took the seat he had vacated and poured some coffee into a cup. "So, you gonna tell me about why this was funny strange?"  

He propped a hip against the corner of the battered desk and folded his arms across his barrel of a chest. "When I called her on it, accused her of trying to get me drunk so she could get a juicy story and win a Pulitzer with it, I thought for a second she looked hurt."  

"*Connor*?"  

"You're repeating yourself, Jim."  

"Yeah, but nothing hurts Connor! The woman has a set of balls that most men would sell their right arms for!"  

"*Most* men?"  

"Hey, I got a pretty good set of solid brass ones, Joel. I don't need hers!"  

He shook his head, laughing. "Well, I must have been wrong, about her looking hurt," he clarified. "She just shrugged and said, 'Guess you got me, mate.' She stayed around a bit longer chewing the fat, and then she left." He frowned. "She said something about getting a story from the double dome."  

"Carrington? Doesn't matter. She'll have to wait on General Fogarty's okay to send whatever he gives her. I'm not giving the nod. I'm already in deep enough shit. I'd like to stay in the Army long enough to collect my allotment, thank you very much."  

"You sure of that, Cap?"  

"What are you… " I had to pause and take a deep breath. How had the conversation gotten so serious all of a sudden? "What are you talking about, Joel?"  

"Nothing, I guess. I just thought you might be tired of the restraints the service puts on you… on all of us. Maybe I'm just tired myself. That Thing in the ice… I'm glad my watch is over. I'm gonna have that drink now, then see if the Three Musketeers are up for a game of gin rummy." He was referring to Erickson, MacAuliff and Dykes.    

"Just don't play poker with Connor. She's a card shark!"  

"I know. Here, take my gloves. You'll get frostbite, otherwise." He tossed them to me, and I caught them single-handed.  

"Thanks, big guy. Make sure Ken knows he's got the next watch."  

"That Thing in the ice getting to you already?"  

"Smart ass." I offered my co-pilot a smile, although I wasn't certain how successful it was. I wasn't going to tell him that I heard a heart beating in the ice, that was impossible. I couldn't have heard another heartbeat. It was just the stress of dealing with… what I'd been dealing with all day— the scientists, the weather, the possible fallout from the destruction of the space craft that was causing me to hear things. "'Night, Joel."  

"'Night, Jim."  

The door shut behind him, and I glanced over my shoulder.  

The ice encasing our visitor was like a sheet of clear glass now, and its contents were so visible I couldn't prevent a shudder. "You sure are one ugly motherfucker, wherever you come from!"  

I read over the notes Joel had made, rose and prowled around the room to make sure everything was secure, and then sat down and searched the drawers of the old desk in hopes of finding some reading matter.  

"Eureka," I muttered. The bottom right drawer revealed a stash of pulp magazines with lurid covers, grim-faced men in slouch hats and trench coats, shielding vapid blondes with their bodies as they faced down thugs who had revolvers in their fists. I took the one on the top and began to read about Moose Molloy and his search for his Velma.  

****  

I was deep in the gritty, noir-ish Los Angeles of Raymond Chandler.  

Philip Marlowe had been hit on the head with a sap, tied to a bed in a little, barred room, and shot full of dope to keep him under control. His jailor was someone who claimed to be a doctor. Not a nice man.  

I refilled the cup of coffee and was raising it to my mouth when the sound of the door to the storeroom opening jerked me out of the gumshoe's dark world. I lurched to my feet and whirled around, nearly spilling the coffee all over my flight suit.  

"My, my. Someone is jumpy."  

"Dammit, Carolyn, what are you doing here?"  

"I wanted to talk to you, Jimmy." My ex-wife oozed her way to where I stood and tip-toed her fingers up my arm. "I haven't been fair to you, and I want to make up for that."  She was wearing an angora cardigan, one of those pouf-y pink sweaters that seemed to mold itself to her breasts. "It's so c-cold in here!" She shivered. Her nipples were quite prominent, and I suddenly realized she wasn't wearing a brassiere. "Can't we… go s-somewhere?"  

"This is my watch, Carolyn, and I won't be relieved for another half hour. You can talk here, if you'd like, or not." I hoped she'd not.  

She shivered again and came closer. "I'd warm up if you put your arms around me, Jimmy." She was using the kittenish voice that she and her sister both used when they were around men they thought were worth their time.  

"I can't do that, Carolyn."  

"Sure you c-can, Jimmy. All you have to do is put one arm here," she placed my right arm around her waist and rubbed up against me, "and the other arm…"  

"No." The perfume she was wearing was so overpowering that my nose shut down in self-defense. I stepped back from her.  

"Don't b-be like that, baby. We had such good times together." In what universe? Whatever passion we'd felt hadn't survived the honeymoon, and we'd become like strangers to each other. "We could have g-good times again, I p-p-promise!"  

"Carolyn, I'm seeing someone." I could see she wasn't thrilled to hear that. "And you should know better than anyone that I don't screw around while I'm involved."  

My lawyer had been able to keep the alimony within reason because she really had no grounds for divorcing me beyond the standard 'irreconcilable differences.' I didn't come home drunk and beat her, and I didn't have a piece of tail on the side. The judge conceded I'd have to pay her something every month, but not the two hundred fifty bucks she'd demanded.  

"F-f-fine. I'll keep this sh-sh-short. I… " Her teeth began to chatter in earnest.  

"Here." I picked up the blanket Joel had thrown over the crates and put it over her shoulders. She gave a full body shudder and drew the material close around her.  

"That's better," she purred, sighing voluptuously. "Now. About us getting back together…"  

"I'm sorry, Carolyn. I can't, and I won't." I managed a furtive glance at my watch. Where the hell was Ken Erickson? He should have been here five minutes ago.  

As if answering my prayer, the door opened and he strolled in. "Sorry for the delay, Jimbo… Oops. I *am* sorry. I'll come back later when I won't be interrupting anything." He took a couple of steps back toward the door.  

"You're not interrupting anything *now*, Lieutenant," I snarled.  

"You sure, Jim?" He lingered at the door. "Mrs. Ellison, how nice to see you again."  

She smiled up at him and fluttered her lashes. "Lieutenant."  

"Plummer, Erickson!"  

"Huh?"  

I gestured surreptitiously for him to get back in the room and breathed a sigh of relief when he finally did.  

"Her last name is *Plummer*! Carolyn, you'd better leave now; I have nothing more to say to you. Once I give Lieutenant Erickson my report I intend to turn in for the night." And if I was lucky, maybe I could find Blair and ask him to give me a tour of the station, ending in his quarters. He could show me his etchings, and maybe I could persuade him it would be in our own best interests to spend the night together. In his bed. He was a scientist; he would understand about conservation of body heat and all that. I cleared my throat. "Tomorrow is going to be a busy day."  

For a second I thought Carolyn was going to argue with me, but then she shrugged. "Fine." Abruptly she let out a gasp. "What is that?" She was staring at the block of ice, apparently seeing it for the first time.  

"Plug Ugly? He's the extraterrestrial man who came to dinner."  

"Not amusing, James!" Carolyn curled her lip. She threw the blanket haphazardly over the ice. "I'll just be going now, boys." And she sauntered out, an exaggerated sway to her hips.  

"Phew."  

I smacked Erickson's shoulder. "What was the big idea? You know we're divorced! Why would you think I'd want to be alone with her?"  

"Geez, Jim. You were with her only the other night! For chrissake, she left a love letter on your chest!"  

I opened my mouth to hotly refute that, than snapped it shut. "Never mind. Why are you so friggin' happy? The only time you call me 'Jimbo' is when you get laid!"  

He flushed a dull red to the roots of his hair. "Oh… Um…Y'see…" The smile he offered was weak at best. My nose twitched, and I suddenly realized I was picking up a scent on the flight suit he was wearing that wasn't Old Spice, his aftershave.  

"You dirty dog! You did get laid!" I could see his lips were swollen, as if he'd been kissing some woman long and hard. The red in his cheeks hadn't quite faded, but I didn't give it much thought. "Who's the lucky woman?"  

"Jim! You know the only women here are Carolyn and a few of the scientists' wives, and they're old enough to be my mother!" His eyes grew enormous, and he clapped a hand over his mouth. "Oh, fuck. I… Jim, please, you won't tell anyone, will you?"  

I realized his cheeks were reddened by whisker burn. So Ken Erickson liked men. I didn't think he'd have a hard time picking up a guy; he was about my height, with strawberry-blond hair and eyes like a stormy sea. I wondered who he had found to fool around with. I was pretty certain the scientists were too involved with their experiments to give a second thought to sex, so that left the men on Simon Banks' security team, and the lab techs.  

"I'm hurt, Ken. You honestly believe I would turn in one of my own men because…" I remembered something Blair had said, and smiled. "… because he prefers beef to seafood?"  

"I'm sorry, Jim." He looked miserable. "It's just… you know what the military is like! We'd be court-martialed! I don't want to spend the rest of my life behind a stockade, and neither does… Jim, you're not gonna make me tell you who I was with, are you?" His expression became stubborn. "I won't tell you who I was with."  

*We'd* be court-martialed? That meant he had to be involved with someone else who was armed forces, and the only representatives of the military at this polar camp were my crew.  

"Don't get your shorts in a bunch, Ken. You're the best navigator I've got."  

I didn't say it, it was none of my business, but I wasn't going to lose him over something as inconsequential as who he chose to take to bed.  

I knew my men. They were smart, capable, and physically very attractive. If Erickson was fucking one them, then he considered it worth the risk. They both probably did.  

"Now, I want to get out of here. It's been quiet as the grave…"  

"Not a happy choice of words, Cap."  

"Sorry. It's been quiet. I finished the coffee, so I'll send someone down with a fresh thermos for you. By the way, I'm about halfway through Farewell, My Lovely. If you finish it, I *don't* want to hear how it ends!"  

"Roger that, Jim. I'll just keep myself amused with these." He pulled a deck of cards from the pocket of his flight suit, flexing his fingers. "Damn, it is cold in here!"  

"Here, take these." I gave him the gloves Joel had let me borrow. They'd kept my hands warm.  

"Oh, one thing." He worked his fingers into the gloves. "Bob wanted to know if it was okay with you if he pulled a later watch? He mentioned something about needing to catch forty winks. One of Captain Banks' men said he'd be willing to take it."  

"What about Eddie?"  

"He's still working his tail off trying to help Tex boost the power for the radio." There was a discontented droop to his lower lip.  

"Still?"  

"Yeah." He circled the block of ice, eyeing it cautiously, keeping as much distance as the small room allowed. That must be what was bothering him. It had gotten to Joel and to me, why shouldn't it get to Ken also? "The storm's so bad it's knocking out everything they've tried to send."  

"Damn. I guess that puts paid to any hope of Carrington getting the okay to dissect our friend in the ice anytime soon."  

"Jesus, he really is ugly, isn't he?" Ken shuddered and straightened the blanket over the ice, blocking its contents from view. "Jim, do me a favor? Tell Barnes not to be late."  

"Sure thing, Ken."  

****  

Once out of the storeroom, the temperature was uncomfortably warm. I didn't want to take the time to go to my quarters to take off my flight suit, so I simply unzipped it and hoped I'd be somewhere with Blair soon where I could strip it off completely.  

I walked through the corridors, grinning as I contemplated what it would be like stripping off Blair's clothes. I had no problem locating the mess hall, simply following my nose.  

The mess hall was dim and empty, however, and I sagged in disappointment. How long did Dr. Carrington work his scientists?  

And then I heard the muted sound of conversation coming from a door I hadn't noticed before. It was open, and light spilled through it.  

"Can you believe the cheek of that woman?" "I didn't think it had gone that far." "Talk about rubbing salt in a wound." "You really think she had any idea?"  

I didn't detect Blair's voice, but maybe he wasn't saying anything just then. I realized I was stretching my hearing in the futile hope of catching the sound of his heartbeat.  

I walked to the doorway. It was a rec room. A comprehensive glance was all it took to catalogue the contents of the room and its occupants.  

It was one of the few room I'd been in that had double-paned insulated windows. A sofa was stretched along one wall. Chairs were scattered around, and there were a number of card tables, one with cards scattered over it and on the floor beneath it, as if the hands had been thrown down in irritation, one with the remains of a game of Monopoly, and one with a chess board set up and a game in progress. A five-shelf bookcase held hardcovered books, magazines, and other games like checkers, Scrabble, and even pick-up sticks.  

That glance was all it took to verify Blair wasn't there. My crew chief, the head of security, Barnes, Mrs. Chapman, and Lee, the cook, refilling coffee mugs.  

The conversation dried up. He held up the pot and looked a question at me.  

"No, thanks."  

"Lee, why don't you go to bed? The men can help themselves," Mrs. Chapman murmured.  

"Lee, would you mind seeing Lieutenant Erickson gets a fresh thermos of coffee?"  

He smiled and gave a slight bow, and left the room.  

Mrs. Chapman let her eyes drift over me, cold and unseeing. "It's getting very close in here. I'm going to bed. Goodnight, gentlemen." She smiled at the other men, and deliberately ignored me.  

I stared after her as she walked from the room, her spine unbending. What had happened that caused her to be angry with me?  

"Hey, Cap!" Bob lounged in an arm chair, a leg over the side. He was looking almost… sated? I sniffed discreetly and caught a hint of Old Spice mingled with the Bay Rum Bob usually favored. "You just missed Mrs. Ellison."  

My mother was here?  

"I hear congratulations are in order."  

I was starting to feel uneasy. "What are you talking about, Bob?"  

"You're getting married again. I think we'll be invited this time. Carolyn seems to feel we've become more civilized."  

"WHAT?"  

"Your ex-wife, I mean your… Um, what do you call a guy's ex-wife when he's going to marry her again?"  

Banks was watching me with flat, unamused eyes. Barnes was looking as confused as I felt.  

Had I fallen down the rabbit hole? "Bob. Explain. In words of one syllable, preferably."  

"Well, Caro… She said I could call her 'Caro,' Jim! How about that? And we always thought she was a snooty, spoiled society brat."  

"You blew a pretty nice alliteration there, MacAuliff," Captain Banks chuckled sourly  

"I think you're right, Captain. Anyway, she came in here looking all … Gee, Jim, you really kissed the girl hard. If she hadn't admitted that you'd been kissing her, I'd have sworn someone socked her in the mouth!"  

"Let me get this straight. Carolyn Plummer was in here, and she told everyone that we were getting remarried?"  

"Yyyes. That's the long and the short of it. Of course she did go on about what a great kisser you were and how she'd almost passed out from lack of oxygen." I opened and shut my mouth helplessly. Bob blithely continued. "She said if you'd kissed her like that when you were married she'd never have let you get away, and now that she's got you back, she intends to keep you forever."  

No wonder Mrs. Chapman was furious with me. I'd sworn to her that I wouldn't let my ex-wife get her hooks back into me, and… I ground my teeth together so hard the nerves whinged in protest. "Let me make this perfectly clear to everyone in this room. I am not getting married. Not to my ex-wife, not to anyone!"  

Bob shrugged. "She seemed pretty positive."  

"I don't care! I'm *not* marrying her!"  

Did she think I would let her get away with that? I’d let her do as she chose for much of our marriage, because I just hadn't cared. It troubled me to think that she saw me as a milquetoast.  

"Don't get your shorts in a knot, Cap. I'm just telling you what she said." He yawned and stretched his arms up over his head, and the sweater he wore pulled up revealing the shallow depression of his navel. Just to the side of his belly button was a deep purple love bite. Before I could remark about it he said, "Glad I saw you before you went to bed. Is it all right…"  

"Oh, yeah. Ken told me you wanted to pull a later watch."  

"I'll do the next watch, Captain Ellison. If you don't mind?" Barnes fiddled with a chessman, his eyes darting nervously from the head of security who sat across the table from him to me, and back.  

"Captain Banks?"  

"Oh, for Pete's sake, call me Simon, would you? Dr. Voorhees, our meteorologist, has predicted that this will be a mother of a storm, and we're going to be cooped up together for some time!"  

"Then it's a damn good thing we brought all those extra supplies."  

"Yeah. And I don't have a problem with Barnes taking the watch as long as you don't."  

"Let's face it, Simon. I don't have enough men to keep watch over that Thing. I appreciate the help."  

"Thank you for giving me this opportunity, Captain Banks, Captain Ellison. I promise I won't let you down!"  

Was Barnes embarrassed because he'd thrown up out there on the ice? We all had occasions when we'd been betrayed by our bodies.  

"I know you won't."  

"Well, I'm gonna catch some zzz's." Bob levered himself up from of his chair. "My ass is dragging. Barnes, I'll relieve you at 3." He walked out of the room, his gait a little stiff.  

"It's your move, Captain Banks."  

"Is… uh… is Dr. Sandburg still in his laboratory?"  

"Blair?" Banks took a cigar from his shirt pocket and made a production of lighting it. "He was here a little bit ago."  

"Was he here when my ex-wife came in?" Please god, don't let him have heard her bullshit.  

"Yes," he stared at the glowing tip of his cigar, "I believe he was."  

Okay, you didn't answer that prayer, god; he heard her. Please don't let him have believed her?  

"Did he… er… how did he seem?"  

"Fine." Just the way Banks said it made me know Blair wasn't fine. "Why would Blair care a damn if your ex-wife stated quite clearly that you and she had ironed out your differences and were getting married again?"  

Dammit. He believed her. God, you really weren't much help down here. "I think I'll turn in. Goodnight, Simon, Barnes."  

I took their grunts as 'goodnights' and left.  

The mess hall was filled with shadows. By the time I crossed the room and reached the door I was determined to find Blair and get this straightened out.  

"Captain Ellison." Mrs. Chapman was standing in the corridor, her arms folded across her chest, glowering at me. She was dressed in a long Black Watch plaid flannel bathrobe. Her hair was in two braids that brushed her shoulders.  

The fact that she was dressed for bed didn't make her look any less intimidating.  

"I thought I was 'Jim'." I half-smiled.  

"And I thought you weren't going to hurt Blair."  

"Mrs. Chapman…"  

"Your ex-wife, or perhaps I should say your *former* ex-wife, came in about twenty minutes before you did. She announced that she wanted us to be the first to know the two of you were getting back together."  

"I know. Bob told me." I ran my hand over my hair. "And Blair heard that."  

"Blair looked as if someone had given him a sucker punch to the gut."  

God*damn* that woman! "We're not getting back together, Mrs. Chapman. I did not kiss her!"  

"Not even a peck on the cheek? She was looking rather mussed and well-kissed."  

"No, I swear to you!"  

"It's not me you need to convince."  

"Where is he?"  

"In his room."  

"And which one is that? Look, if I have to go through every room in this station, I will. And if I wake up everyone, I don't much care!"  

She stared at me coolly for a few seconds that seemed to stretch into the next century. Finally, she said, "Male staff are quartered down this corridor. Blair's room is the third from the end."  

I left her with a mumbled 'thanks' and strode to the door she had pointed out. On the other side of the door I could hear the rustling of clothes being removed. I took a deep breath. I took another deep breath. I raised my hand to rap on the door. My hand was shaking.  

I glanced over my shoulder, but the junction of the corridor was empty. I knocked.  

The door opened, and he stood there, shirtless, and I wanted to moan. His nipples, plump and rose-beige, peaked through the mat of curly hair that covered his chest and arrowed down past the waistband of his pants.  

I wet my lips and swallowed, but he spoke before I could.  

"You're in the wrong place. Miss Plummer's room is down the next corridor. Or should I call her 'Mrs. Ellison'?"  

"She's not Mrs. Ellison, and I'm not looking for Carolyn. I was looking for you." I spotted a vermilion love bite on the base of Blair's throat. I was ready to jump down his throat for letting someone else play vampire with him, but then I looked closer, and I could tell it wasn't brand new. I would have touched the mark, but he knocked my hand away.  

I must have put it there the other night, and I swore to myself, because I couldn't remember doing it.  

I stepped toward him, hoping he would back away, and I could get into the room with him and shut the door behind me. I couldn't take my eyes off his nipples.  

"Why?" He wouldn't budge.  

"We were supposed to have a cup of coffee at the mess hall. We were going to…" I was inches away from him. I took another step.  

"What?" He glared up at me. "Take up where we left off? I don't think so. You're going to remarry your ex-wife. I don't fool around with married men."  

Those nipples… I could see how tight they were, could see the tiny depression on each side where they must have been pierced. They seemed to beg for my mouth, beg to be licked and bit and sucked. I started to drift into a limbo where he wasn't mad as hell at me but instead wound himself around my body and warmed me to the core.  

"Jim. *Jim*! Listen to my voice! Come back to me!" His hands were on me, rubbing my cheeks, my neck, my shoulders, and I was back in the here and now. I made a happy sound.  

Abruptly I realized I'd never come out of one of those episodes so quickly. I gave my head a shake. "What happened, Chief?"  

"I was hoping you could tell me."  

I blinked. "What were we talking about?"  

"Your remarriage." And just like that, the warmth between us congealed and became as cold as yesterday's mashed potatoes.  

"Aw, baby, she lied! There's nothing between us."  

"Don't call me 'baby'. And don't tell me there's nothing between you. For Pete's sake, I can *smell* her on you! Unless you've taken to wearing women's perfume?"  

"All of a sudden *you're* the sentinel?"  

"Don't give me that crap! Chanel #5 is pretty strong, wise guy. I don't need an acute olfactory sense to pick up on that! And what do you know about sentinels?"  

I ignored his question again. Instead, I remembered Carolyn rubbing herself against me, and I started ripping off my flight suit. I took another step toward him and nearly tripped as the legs tangled around my boots. I stooped to remove them, then pulled off the flight suit.  

"Blair, you have to believe me!"  

"Back off, Ellison. You're not coming…"  

"Not yet, I'm not." I was right in front of him, and I wondered fuzzily why my shirt was still on. Blair was breathing heavily, his nipples rubbing against my shirt each time he inhaled, and if I didn't have it on, they'd be rubbing against my chest. I undid the top button, then the next button, and the next. 

"No!"  

I froze.  

He licked his lips. "If I let you in, you're going to… to make love to me?"  

"Yeah."  

"But we were going to talk first."  

"You want to talk?"  

His tongue peeked out to touch his upper lip, and he nodded.  

"Okay, Chief. We talk. First." I shuddered from want denied. "Then…"  

"No. I don't …"  

"You don't trust me?"  

Blair opened his mouth, appeared to think better of what he'd been about to say and shut it, and backed away. I walked toward him.  

"Your clothes, Jim!" he hissed. "You can't leave them in the hall!"  

I growled, twisted to scoop them up, and tossed them aside as soon as I was inside his room. I reached behind me and shut the door, and very quietly twisted the lock.  

He seemed nervous; I didn't want him to be nervous. I smiled. //See, Chief? No one here but us harmless little lambs.// "You can tie me up if that will make you feel better."  

His eyes narrowed, and suddenly the odor of male arousal filled my nostrils. "Why don't you sit in that chair, Jim?" He licked his lips again.  

For a second I couldn't catch my breath. I spun the chair around and straddled it, resting my arms on the narrow strip of wood at the top of the chair back. The material of my pants pulled snug over my hard-on, and I rocked gently, and the pressure increased.  

"Hands behind your back, tough guy."  

Blair walked behind me. I was listening carefully. I knew when his hand slid into his pocket. I knew when it came back out. He was so close to me. His breath was warm on the side of my neck, little puffs that set my nerve-endings to thrumming. He blew into my ear, and that became all I could think of, the sensation that made my dick like a steel bar.  

He grabbed my wrists and tied them. I could tell it was a thin strip of leather. I tugged experimentally, feeling a slight give.  

"I was going to say, it's not that I didn't trust you, but that I didn't trust me. Y'know, it wouldn't have mattered." That voice like warm honey. I rolled my head against his torso, and I would have sworn I could feel each curl through my hair. "I'd have gone to bed with you anyway, Jim. And if you weren't tied up, I never would have told you that!"  

I groaned and tugged harder on my bindings.  

He walked around to stand in front of me and tipped up my chin. "There really isn't anything going on with the two of you, Jim?"  

I looked at him through slitted eyes, wallowing in the feel of his fingertips on my face, wandering over my cheekbones, tracing the curve of my lips. "I swear to you, babe. On what I feel for you."  

"What do you feel for me, Jim? Passion? Lust?"  

"That, and more."  

"What 'more'?"  

"How about affection?"  

His breath caught in his throat. He leaned down and brushed his lips over mine. They were warm, and closed. I parted my lips and touched the seam of his mouth with my tongue.  

"Jim!" His hands cradled the back of my head, holding me motionless, and he stroked the hollow at the base of my skull and took my mouth.  

I angled my head and tried to get him to deepen the kiss. Blair licked at my teeth, my tongue, my inner cheeks, and at any other time I would have been shocked by the needy sounds I made.  

I shivered as a hand dropped to my groin and began kneading my dick. My hips jerked helplessly, and I spread my legs wider.  

Blair leaned his forehead against my forehead. I could barely catch my breath.  

"This is the first time we've kissed, you know," he murmured softly. "I like it."  

"Untie me, Chief." My voice was shaky.  

"Not yet." He dropped to his knees and nuzzled my groin.  

I could feel the moist warmth of his breath, and I rocked up, hoping he would mouth me through the material of my pants. I pulled harder at my restraints, and the thin leather slid free.  

"Blair!" I brought my hands around and threaded them through his thick curls. "I love your hair," I whispered as I leaned toward him, raised his face, and brought our lips together.  

He sighed into my mouth, and I wallowed in the taste of brandy that lingered on his tongue.  

And then he reared back. "Jim! You're free! How'd you get free?"  

"I guess you weren't a Boy Scout, Chief. You really don't have much of a way with knots." I held up my hands with the strip of leather that had secured them dangling from my wrist.  

****  

Blair's POV  

A glance at the clock on the wall told me I'd been collating the results of my experiments for almost two and a half hours. It was enough. If Dr. Carrington wanted to get blood from a stone, he could get it from another stone.  

I labeled and put away the slides. I removed my glasses and squeezed the bridge of my nose. I got to my feet and arched my back, then switched off the light to my laboratory as I left.  

I walked to the mess hall, trying to appear casual and unhurried, and smoothed a hand over my hair. When I was working I had a tendency to run my fingers through it, and as a result, it would often look as if I'd backed through a bramble bush.  

Mrs. Chapman was in the mess hall. She was alone.    

"Did I miss J… Captain Ellison?"  

Her smile was knowing. "His watch should be over shortly." She stepped closer to me. "You really like him, don't you. Blair?"  

"Does it show that much?"  

"Only to those who know you as well as Hugo and I do. I'm so happy for you, sweetie."  

"Well, let's not break out the shoes and rice just yet. I really only met him a couple of days ago." I wanted to smack myself in the head. I hadn't meant to tell her that. I waited to hear her disapproval.  

She laughed easily. "Sometimes, that's all it takes. Hugo asked me to marry him the same day we met. Of course, I made him wait a while before I said 'yes'. It will never do to let a man know he has you wrapped around his finger. Now, why don't you join us until Captain Ellison gets here, and unwind."  

"Okay."  

"Blair! You owe me a game of chess!" Simon stood in the door of the rec room, grinning evilly. "I've been reading up on some esoteric moves!"  

"Yeah? Let's see what you can do, Botvinnik."  

He stepped back to let me enter.  

"Danny, would you care to play Monopoly with me?"  

"Sure, Mrs. Chapman."  

"I'll take the Scotty dog." She began setting up the board and separating the money.  

"I'll take the convertible."  

Simon handed me a snifter of brandy. "I love the little civilized touches."  

I warmed it in my palms and took a sip. "Trying to get me drunk, Simon? Won't work, y'know." Except with those damned Under the Wraps.  

"Not at all." He took a chessman in each hand and held them behind his back, then brought his hands forward. "Choose."  

I touched his left wrist, and he turned it over to reveal a black piece.  

"I've had good luck with black men, Simon," I teased in a very low voice as I took it from him and sat behind the two rows of ebony chessmen.  

He looked at the white knight in his palm ruefully, shook his head, and sat down to face me.  

We were deep into the game when Bob MacAuliff, Jim's crew chief, came in; his walk was a little gimpy. Ken Erickson was right behind him, and the expression on his face had me looking twice for canary feathers sticking to his mouth.  

"Jim around?" The buttons on MacAuliff's sweater were in the wrong holes, and the tail of his shirt was half-in, half-out of his pants.  

Simon sat back, obviously relieved by the interruption. "No, he hasn't turned up yet."  

MacAuliff relaxed back against Erickson. "I wanted to ask him if I could switch my watch with someone else."  

"Weren't you supposed to relieve Captain Ellison, Lieutenant?"  

"Shit, yeah. Sorry, Mrs. Chapman! Jim's gonna have my head!" Erickson pushed MacAuliff upright, his hand lingering on the shorter man's back, and then headed for the door.  

"I'll fill in for you, if you like, Sergeant MacAuliff!" Barnes volunteered, for all the world like an eager puppy. "If… uh… you have no objections, Captain Banks?"  

Simon shook his head. "It's fine with me, Barnes." He leaned forward as if studying the board for his next move and spoke softly, so that only I could hear. "Danny's shaping up to be a good security man, but he just doesn't give himself enough credit."  

"Thanks, Barnes." MacAuliff smiled at him, a lazy, considering smile, and the younger man flushed. "That's great. I really need to saw some wood for a couple of hours. The… uh… the time out in the cold took a lot out of me."  

Simon scrutinized the crew chief. "Tell me something, MacAuliff." He turned back to the chessmen before him. "You have a tussle with a polar bear?"  

"Huh?" MacAuliff looked down and took in the condition of his clothing. He blushed, but didn't respond beyond, "Thanks," and righted himself. "Is there anything to read while I'm waiting for Jim?"  

Simon looked up from the chessboard. "Some scientific periodicals."  

MacAuliff shook his head.  

"Reader's Digest. Good Housekeeping. Look. Life." Barnes offered a tentative smile. "They're current. We get them with every mail delivery."  

"Whoa! Interesting!" He held up a copy of Picturegoer. On the cover was a photo of Rita Hayworth and her long, long legs. He sat down in one of the arm chairs and began to leaf through it.  

The room grew silent except for the occasion murmur from Mrs. Chapman as she rolled the dice and invective from Simon as I captured his Bishop.  

There was a sound in the mess hall, and my heart started thudding in painful excitement. //Jim!//  

Carolyn Plummer strolled through the door into the rec room. "Oh!"  

My heartbeat slowly returned to normal.  

"Oh, dear!" She made such a production of bringing her fingertips to her mouth that I couldn't avoid noticing how swollen it was. "I didn't realize you'd all be here."  

I looked around the room, then back at Simon, but he just shrugged.  

She straightened the drape of her sweater and smoothed her hair. "I wanted to talk to you, Mrs. Chapman, but since everyone is here," again with the everyone. What was she up to? "I just wanted you all to know that Jimmy and I… well, we realized we had really been quite foolish, and as soon as we can arrange it, we're going to get married!"  

I could feel the color drain from my cheeks. "Excuse me?"  

"Oh, yes. I just knew when I saw him earlier and felt that old feeling that there was still something there, but I wasn't sure if Jimmy felt it also. But then he asked me to meet him in the storeroom, and as soon as I walked in he *pounced* on me and… " She continued speaking, but I couldn't hear her over the pounding in my ears.  

I gulped down the rest of my brandy, with no regard for its bouquet. "Congratulations, Miss Plummer." The word was like gall in my mouth. "If you'll excuse me? It's getting late. I think I'll go to bed. Simon, I concede the game."  

"Oh, no, you don't. I'm two moves away from 'checkmate'!"  

"In your dreams, Simon." I managed a grin.  

"Blair?" Mrs. Chapman was as pale as I imagined I was. I gave a small shake of my head, but she disregarded it. "Danny, I just remembered I need to speak to Blair about something. Would you mind if we finished this game another time?"  

"Oh, uh… sure, Mrs. C." He stared at the Monopoly board, then gazed around with eyes that looked lost.  

"Barnes, get your tail over here. You're pinch-hitting for Sandburg."  

His face lit up with pleasure, and he hurried to take my seat.  

I wondered if my smile looked as forced as it felt. "Don’t make me look bad, Barnes. I'm one horse up on him. Goodnight."  

"But… but… what about my news? The way Jimmy kissed me…"  

I didn't want to hear it. Jim had never kissed me. I knew some men were nauseated by the idea of kissing another guy, but after what had happened earlier, I'd hoped that maybe…  

I bit down on my lip and brushed past Lee, who was coming in with a pot of coffee and some mugs.  

"Goodnight, Brair."  

"'Night, Lee."  

"Blair! Sweetie…" She stopped me in the center of the mess hall.  

"Mrs. Chapman, please. I picked the wrong guy, and I made a fool of myself. There's nothing you or anyone can say that will change that."  

"Oh, sweetie." She hugged me, offering what comfort she could. It was something Naomi never would have done.  

"Please. I just need a little time to pull myself together."  

She kissed my cheek, then let me go and stepped back. I walked away, trying to keep my stride unrevealingly sedate, but by the time I'd gone three steps into the main corridor, I was jogging. Halfway down it, and the jog became a run.  

No one was wandering the corridors at that time of night. They were either in their labs or asleep, and I made it to my room unseen by anyone, which was a relief. I didn't want to have to explain why I was consigning Jim Ellison to the most horrific circle of Dante's inferno.  

I made it a point never to get involved with married men. There was too much potential for hurt. At least two people were guaranteed to bleed emotionally, and a talented body in bed just wasn't worth that kind of pain.  

Now it seemed that the man that I had fallen for, so quickly and so hard, was as good as married.  

*Damn* him for making me want him like that!  

And damn *me* for wanting him in spite of it.  

****  

"You should have known better, Sandburg." I sat on my bed, my head in my hands, and I cursed the both of us in every language I knew.  

It took a while, but I finally ran out of invective and finished castigating myself for being such a fool.  

"Oh, go to bed, you dope."  

As I pulled off my sweater, I was enveloped by a scent that I realized had to be Jim's. Not aftershave or cologne, because he didn't seem to wear anything artificial.  

I shuddered and bit back a moan, and threw it across the room. It was followed by two flannel shirts, the woolen top of my longjohns, and an undershirt. I was reaching for the button at the waist of my pants when there was a tentative knock at my door.  

My heart took up the heavy thudding again. //Won't you ever learn?// I sneered at it silently as I crossed to the door. //It's not him. And even if it is, Jim Ellison is not available.//  

I opened it. My eyes widened, my mouth opened, then shut, and my breath snagged in my throat. *Jim*?  

But I'd faced down a classroom of restless students when I'd done some time as a teaching assistant while working on my dissertation. I pulled myself together.  

"You're in the wrong place. Miss Plummer's room is down the next corridor." I turned the sneer on him. "Or should I call her 'Mrs. Ellison'?"  

"She's not Mrs. Ellison, and I'm not looking for Carolyn. I was looking for you." His eyes narrowed, and he reached out to touch me. I slapped his hand away.  

"Why?" He was crowding me, but I stood my ground stubbornly. I had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of seeing me back down before him.  

"We were supposed to have a cup of coffee at the mess hall. We were going to…"  

"What? Take up where we left off? I don't think so. You're going to remarry your ex-wife. I don't fool around with married men." If I repeated that enough, maybe I'd believe it where he was concerned.  

He was staring at my chest, and I was about to snap at him that he could at least have the courtesy of looking me in the eye while we had our first… our only quarrel, when I saw the blank look in his eyes.  

"Jim. *Jim*! Listen to my voice!" I shook and stroked and patted him. "Come back to me!" I was looking for any excuse to touch him one last time. I promised myself it would be the last time.  

He blinked, shuddered, inhaled deeply, and slowly came out of it. "What happened, Chief?"  

"I was hoping you could tell me."  

But he didn't. "What… uh… what were we talking about?"  

"Your remarriage."  

"Aw, baby, she lied! There's nothing between us."  

Suppose he was lying to me, telling me what I wanted to hear so he could get in my pants, and then still have his wife to go home to?  

"Don't call me 'baby'," I snapped. I couldn't let him know what hearing him call me 'baby' did to me. "And don't tell me there's nothing between you. For Pete's sake, I can *smell* her on you! Unless you've taken to wearing women's perfume?"  

He pulled the material of his flight suit up toward his nose and sniffed, and an angry flush colored his cheeks. "All of a sudden *you're* the sentinel?"  

"Don't give me that crap! Chanel #5 is pretty strong, wise guy. I don't need an acute olfactory sense to pick up on that! And what do you know about sentinels?"  

"Blair, you have to believe me!" He was tearing the suit off with furious, contained movements.  

According to what law? And damn the man for not answering me. "Back off, Ellison. You're not coming…"  

"Not yet, I'm not." The pants of his flight suit were down around his ankles and he almost fell over. I would have laughed if I hadn't been so distracted by the curve of the firm muscles of his ass as he bent to remove his boots and then finish getting out of his flying gear.  

"No! If I let you in, you're going to…," I swallowed, "…to make love to me?"  

"Yeah." He started to unbutton his shirt. The expanse of skin I could see above the vee neck of his undershirt was hairless.  

"But we were going to talk first." My fingertips tingled with the desire to touch him.  

"You want to talk?"  

No. Who wanted to waste time verbalizing when I could have him ripping off my pants, throwing me down on my bed, and burying his dick so deep in my ass that I'd feel him there for days afterward? But I had to make him think that talking was the only thing I was willing to do.  

"Okay, Chief. We talk. First. Then…"  

"No." I almost panicked. If there was a 'then', I knew I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off him. "I don't …"  

"You don't trust me?" He looked hurt, and then he looked determined. He started walking toward me.  

"Your clothes, Jim! You can't leave them in the hall!" I didn't care what he did with his flight suit and his boots, they could have gathered dust there in the corridor until the end of time, for all that their location mattered to me, but I had no intention of telling him that I was the one I didn't trust. I knew my mouth must have a mulish twist to it. I'd learned stubborn from Naomi.  

He grabbed them up, came into my room, and dumped them on the floor. I stiffened when I saw the expression on his face, as if he wanted to make a meal of me.  

Jim gave an innocent smile, spread his hands as if he had nothing to hide, and said, "You can tie me up if that will make you feel better."  

The image of Jim restrained made my dick so hard I had to swallow down a whimper. "Why don't you sit in that chair, Jim?"  

Instead of sitting with his back to the back of the chair, he straddled it; there was nothing to block my view of his lower body, and I found myself mesmerized by the way his pants pulled snug over his dick. He was as hard as I was.  

"Hands behind your back, tough guy." Without a single protest, he obeyed me. I was so aroused I was panting, and my cheeks felt hot with desire. I remembered the tie that confined my hair was in my pocket, and I pulled it out and secured his wrists together.  

Jim was at my mercy, and I couldn't resist leaning against him, letting him feel me lean against him. And I heard myself whispering hoarsely, "I was going to say, it's not that I didn't trust you, but that I didn't trust me. Y'know, it wouldn't have mattered. I'd have gone to bed with you anyway, Jim. And if you weren't tied up, I never would have told you that!"  

He groaned and his hips jerked, and I shivered. *I* did that to him!  

"There really isn't anything going on with the two of you, Jim?" //Tell me 'no', even if it's a lie!//  

"I swear to you, babe. On what I feel for you."  

What? "What do you feel for me, Jim? Passion? Lust?"  

"That, and more."  

"What 'more'?"  

"How about affection?"  

Was he saying we had something more than physical attraction going for us? I pressed my lips to his and was stunned when he opened his mouth under mine.  

I drew back. Jim was flushed, his cheekbones splashed with color, his eyes glittering like the sky reflected by Arctic ice.  

I murmured his name, brought our mouths together, and began exploring the warm, wet interior of his mouth in earnest. Kissing was something I'd learned to do to make sure my partner drowned in a flood of feeling and surrendered to me, but this time *I* was the one who was drowning. I increased the pressure until I had to break the kiss if I wanted to breathe.  

Breathing was so overrated.  

"This is the first time we've kissed, you know. I like it." I didn't recognize my own voice.  

"Untie me, Chief."  

"Not yet." I could see his erection straining against his fly, and I needed to taste him. I knelt before him, the scent of male arousal driving me to the brink of orgasm. Never before had I been so out of control.  

The sensation of his fingers in my hair was one of the most erotic things I had ever felt. He whispered something; I couldn't understand the words, but it wasn't important because he was bringing my face up to his, he was kissing me, he was…  

"Jim! You're free!" I moved so quickly I tipped over backwards, and I had no doubt I resembled nothing so much as a befuddled owl as I stared up at him. "How'd you get free?"  

"I guess you weren't a Boy Scout, Chief." He looked smugly proud of himself. "You really don't have much of a way with knots."  

I watched him with wary eyes. He rose from the chair with the grace of a panther and began to stalk me. I scooted backwards until I found my back against the wall.  

His hands manacled my wrists, he hauled me to my feet, and we were suddenly doing a replay of the scene in his quarters earlier this evening. My arms were above my head, and he was plastered against me from chest to groin.  

"So you would have gone to bed with me anyway, Chief?"  

I nodded, unable to get a word past my lips.  

"I'm glad to hear that, Blair." He bent and got his shoulder into my gut, I was hoisted up into a fireman's lift, and the next thing I knew, I was sailing through the air to land sprawled out on my bed. The mattress gave a little, and then gave more as he came down on top of me, driving me deeper into it. His legs were between mine, and he spread them, spreading mine, and settled into the vee of my thighs. "I'm really glad to hear that."

####  

Carolyn's POV  

Wendy, my baby sister, was married by the time she was nineteen. Of course, she was divorced within the year, but she had proved to our mother that she could land a man.  

"Why can't you be more like your sister, dear?"  

And so I married James Joseph Ellison. There were a number of very valid reasons for marrying him. Love was not one of them.  

He was a decorated war hero. He was respected by his superior officers and was on the fast track to becoming a high-ranking officer himself. He was good-looking.  

But the main reason I married the man was because I was twenty-eight years old and had never been married.  

Our honeymoon was a disaster. Sex was messy and painful, and I cried through the whole thing, because of course I was a virgin. Good girls didn't do anything like that before they were married, even if they were twenty-eight years old.  

I began to look for excuses so he wouldn't touch me.  

"I have a headache, Jimmy." Even if I didn't.  

"I'm…er… indisposed." One didn't tell a man one had one's period.  

"I just had my hair done!"  

"I just manicured my nails, and they're still wet."  

"I have a cold in my nose."  

"I'm so tired!"  

And gradually he stopped asking. I was so relieved when he agreed to twin beds that I didn't question his willingness. After all, that was how Mother and Daddy lived.  

My life with Jimmy was comfortable. He let me do as I pleased and never asked how I spent my days. I thought it was because he trusted me, and I never gave him reason not to. Until I met Sam.  

Sam and I had six wonderful months together, and of course Jimmy had no idea; he was too busy flying those wretched planes of his.  

And then Sam was offered a position in Washington , DC .  

"I'll talk Jimmy into putting in for a transfer, darling! He can fly those generals and admirals around. Maybe he'll even become an aide to one of them!"  

"I wish you'd leave him, Caro. You know you don't love him."  

"I can't! Think of what my parents would say, how my friends would react!" I shuddered at the thought.  

"So you'd rather hurt me."  

"Sam! No!"  

"I'm sorry, Carolyn. I love you very much, but you're going to have to choose between the life you want to live, and the one society expects of you. I'll wait for you for six months, but if you haven't made a decision by then..."  

"Sam, please!"  

"Good-bye, Cara mia." She kissed me and walked out without once looking back.  

****  

//It's too late.// The words repeated themselves over and over and over in my mind until I wanted to scream and tear my hair.  

I'd finally gotten the divorce from my husband, but more than a year later, and I knew Sam would have wasted no time in finding someone who appreciated her. I had let it go too long.  

The alimony I was collecting from Jimmy wasn't enough for me to survive on. I couldn't face the prospect of returning to my parents' home, especially since I knew Daddy would never let me hear the end of it about my failed marriage. I wasn't Wendy, after all.  

I found out, in a very roundabout way, that a secretarial position was opening up in a research station in the Arctic . The pay was good, especially for a woman, and room and board were included. I applied. No one was more surprised than I when I actually got the job.  

"You really want to do this, Carolyn?"  

Of course I didn't! It was the *North Pole*! "Yes, Daddy."  

"Very well. I think it's foolish, but …"  

"Will you give me a job at your firm?"  

"Good god, *no*, girl!"  

I hadn't thought so. "Good-bye, Dad."  

****  

The last leg of the trip, from Anchorage to that dust speck on the map that was the research station, was excruciatingly boring. The lone passenger who was on the plane when I maneuvered up that impossible ladder in my slim skirt and high heels was already sound asleep.  

He looked cute, in a bohemian kind of way. His hair was much too long to be acceptable, and I thought I saw an *earring* in his ear, but he had the longest, most luxurious eyelashes I had ever seen on a man, and lush lips that were slightly parted.  

If I looked at him through slitted eyes, I could almost pretend he was a woman. A rather muscular woman with a five o'clock shadow. I sighed.  

****  

I hated the Arctic . It was cold and white and… *cold*.  

I talked too much, as I always did when I was nervous.  

It wasn't my fault I'd reacted the way I had when I was introduced to Simon Banks. I had never seen such a big colored man before.  

They all hated me, I just knew it, and I cried myself to sleep that night, wishing I'd had the nerve to go with Sam when she'd asked me.  

The next morning I was determined to behave with decorum, as befitted a Plummer, and things did seem to be going better.  

There was a knock on my door, and when I opened it, it was to find Mrs. Chapman standing there. Draped over her arm was a pair of trousers.  

"I found some slacks for you, Carolyn. They belonged to Mrs. Olson. She's away right now, visiting her son who just became a daddy for the first time, but she won't mind."  

"Oh, but won't she need them when she gets back?" Mother always… *advised* us not to wear borrowed clothing. She said it was common.  

"You're so sweet, but they don't fit her any longer."  

"Oh, well… thank you. And of course I'll thank Mrs. Olson when she returns."  

"You're welcome, dear. Breakfast is ready. Don't take too long getting dressed."  

She walked briskly down the corridor, and I shut the door. I didn't like being called 'dear'. I never had.  

I held the slacks up by the waist, then laid them across my bed and went to find an appropriate top.  

The slacks were baggy. If it wasn't for the belt threaded through the loops, they would be around my ankles. And they no longer fit Mrs. Olson? How much did the woman weigh?   

But my lower extremities were warm. Maybe I really could do this, could support myself.  

I walked to the mess hall and had breakfast, and afterwards, Mrs. Chapman escorted me to the tiny room that would serve as my office. She showed me where all the supplies were kept.  

The inbox next to the Underwood typewriter only had one set of papers clipped together.  

"Nikki finished as much as she could so you wouldn't start out swamped."  

"Nikki?"  

" Alberta Nicholson."  

"Oh. Yes, I see." Why hadn't she invited me to call her by her nickname? Certainly everyone else seemed to. She was leaving, I rationalized. We wouldn't have time to know one another. "Well, that was very nice of her."  

Dr. Carrington walked in. "Miss Plummer, good morning. I need these results typed up in triplicate, please. Mrs. Chapman, I'd like a word with you, if you don't mind?"  

Mrs. Chapman smiled encouragingly, and they left me to my job.  

I explored the file cabinets and discovered personnel records, which included payroll information, and accounting for everything ordered for this station, from food to microscope slides, agents and reagents for experiments, and fuel oil to heat the station. Alberta Nicholson was more than a simple secretary. Rather than worry about how I could ever do half the tasks she handled, I turned to face the black beast on my desk.  

I really wasn't interested in the people who worked here.  

I found the carbon paper and took out two sheets. I'd put them between the stock paper and get started.  

By the time I had the first set of papers in the carriage of the typewriter, my hands were covered with the black stuff, and it was smeared over the seat of my slacks.  

I had to go back to my room to change. I had to go back to my room to change three times.  

This was not turning out to be one of my better days.  

And after dinner, it went from bad to worse.  

"Jimmy!" My ex-husband had turned up like a bad penny. He could have had the grace to at least look intrigued to find me there.  

After exchanging words with him, I left the mess hall with a dignified gait and retired to my room, thinking furiously. I wanted to go home. I hated being cold, and I hated being thought of as a failure because I was a divorcee.  

This whole situation in which I found myself was James Ellison's fault. He was going to be my ticket back to the life I always should have had.  

In my room I found exactly what I wanted to wear, and I laid the outfit on my bed. I remembered that Jimmy liked soft textures, so I chose a soft suede skirt that came to mid-calf and an angora sweater. Spike-heeled shoes that fastened around my ankles would complete the outfit. I liked those shoes. They emphasized the curve of my calves and showed off how slender my ankles were.  

Sam had loved how I looked in them. She'd curled her hand around my calf, brought it over my knee and to my thigh, then run her thumbnail lazily over the crotch of my panties, which had quickly grown damp…  

My nipples peaked to pebble hardness. I wanted to touch myself, lose myself in thoughts of  what Sam used to do to me.  

Instead, I spritzed myself with my favorite French perfume, fixed the pale pink garter belt around my waist, and sat down to roll up my nylons. I made sure the seams in back were straight, and then fastened the tops with the garters.  

Deliberately I left off the panties and brassiere that formed a matching set with the garter belt. I stepped into the skirt and pulled up the zipper on my left side, drew the sweater on over my head, and smoothed the material over my breasts.  

I thought fleetingly of Sam again, but I couldn't have her, she wouldn't have waited, and I put her out of my mind.  

I fluffed my hair, put on a fresh coat of lipstick, and went to track down my soon-to-be husband.  

****  

The visit with Jimmy in the storeroom didn't work out as well as I'd hoped. I'd been certain that once he'd slid his hand under my skirt and realized I was nude under it, things would progress to a happy conclusion, but I hadn't even been able to get him to embrace me. He'd nattered on about being faithful.  

Who did he think he was, that stupid elephant?  

And then that lieutenant of his interrupted us, and I'd had to leave. But I could feel their eyes on my backside, and I put a little extra wiggle in my walk.  

Once outside the door, I rubbed my arms briskly and blew on my hands. It had been so cold in that storeroom!  

All right, time to put Plan B into action. I'd start telling everyone that we had made up our differences.  

I'd need some visual substantiation for that, though. Everyone had seen the way we'd sniped at each other. I hurried to the ladies' room and used some toilet tissue to remove most of my lipstick, then carefully smudged my mouth so it would appear I had been kissed to within an inch of my life.  

Jimmy was an officer, and supposedly a gentleman. He would never call a lady a liar, not in public, but I was sure he'd want to confront me about the little rumor I was about to start.  

And I had no doubt that once I had him in my room, I'd be able to convince him it was in his own best interest to remarry me.  

Satisfied with my appearance, I went to the rec room. It was show time.  

****  

I was in my room, pacing and glancing impatiently at my wristwatch.  

Jimmy's watch had been over for at least forty-five minutes. That should have given him plenty of time to hear the little rumor I'd started.  

Where was he? And if this wasn't just like a man, and him in particular!  

I wouldn't have been surprised if he was simply trying to drive me out of my mind, so *I* decided to track him down.  

I went to the quarters I had learned he and his men had been given, pleased that no one was around. One good thing that could be said for these people, at least they went to bed at a decent hour.  

****  

For some reason, I found myself tip-toeing to the door. I could recall too many times when my husband had heard things I hadn't wanted him to hear.  

I pressed my ear to the door and listened, then flinched. The sound from within was a chorus of snores that were guaranteed to rattle windows. I opened the door and peeked in, but it was too dark to see anything.  

*But*! Jimmy never snored. Therefore, Jimmy wasn't in there.  

Satisfied with my reasoning, I concluded that he had to be still awake. After all, he was a conscientious man, where duty was concerned, at any rate. I wouldn't have been at all surprised if he was checking things in the storeroom.  

I smiled in satisfaction and hurried on my way. I'd just go back there and surprise him.  

As I rounded the corner, I saw Danny Barnes racing down the corridor. I had read some things in his file about him having a number of problems adjusting to the endless days of the Arctic summer, and word was that he'd vomited all over his own boots just this afternoon on the ice.  

He probably was unable to deal with the cold in that room and needed to go to the bathroom.  

Well, that was perfect. It would give me the opportunity to talk to Jimmy.  

I opened the door. "Jimmy? Baby?" I used that voice I knew he loved. Sam had hated it, but… but Sam had left me. "Your snooky-wookums is cold and needs your big strong arms to warm her! Jimmy?" I heard something behind me. "Are you playing hide-and-go-seek with me?"  

I pasted a smile on my face and started to turn. Something slammed into the side of my head, sending me crashing into some crates, stars exploded, and then I knew nothing else.

End Part C

To Part D