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be.”
    Hey, now that’s something she hadn’t thought of. Skip could keep his balls, and they could get out of this storm, all she had to do was be a bitch. Yeah, surprise. She was up for that.
    “And here I’d thought I’d left you with a lasting impression,” she said.
    He stopped again and turned toward her. “You’re pulling out all the stops, aren’t you?” His eyes narrowed, either because of the biting wind or because he was really angry with her remembering that last impression. “I’ll have to show you the scar you left me.”
    Scar? She thought she’d only left him with a scratch. It wasn’t like she’d meant to hurt him. She’d only wanted to get him to release her. Wasn’t her fault he’d underestimated how high she was or the lengths she’d go to be free of him in that state. She hadn’t even known until she’d awoken, hung over but sober, and listened to the list of charges against her at her arraignment.
    The memory silenced her inner bitch.
    What else would happen to him because of her? He already had a broken arm. Granted, she hadn’t done that, but she was nagging him when he obviously hurt. They were both wet and cold and probably hungry. She certainly was. Hunger could explain her bitchiness. She hadn’t had breakfast because her nerves had been too jittery knowing she was going home, and there was a good chance she’d see Skip. Lunch had consisted of the measly peanut mix and a small glass of artificial punch the airline from Anchorage to King Salmon had given everyone.
    God she hoped he knew where the plane was. Her feet were so cold, and she was in danger of losing digits. Then suddenly there it was. So close she almost ran into the door Skip opened for her.
    “Hurry. We don’t want it wetter inside than we can help.”
    She scampered into the upside down plane, having to crawl around the seats in the cockpit. Skip struggled to follow her. He shut and latched the door, but the wind whistled through the broken front window.
    “Get out of your wet clothes,” Skip said, following behind her, shrugging off his coat. “See if you can find my bag. If we don’t get dry, I don’t have to tell you how much trouble we’ll be in.”
    Hypothermia. Number one killer in the state of Alaska.
    She headed into the tail of the plane. “What does your bag look like?”
    “Blue and gold.”
    She should have known. Trooper colors. Also the colors of the state flag. “Eight stars of gold on a field of blue.” She bet his uniform was in his bag. Damn he looked good in his trooper uniform. She’d never admit it, but her good intentions would weaken to mush when he was all gussied up. Hell, who was she kidding? She’d never had good intentions back then. She barely had them now.
    She found his bag, and under it were boxes of food. Lots of food. Someone had gone to Costco!
    “There’s food!” Her stomach growled. She turned and tossed Skip’s bag toward him and then swiveled back to the food.
    “Change your clothes first,” Skip said.
    She glared at him from over her shoulder. “You knew there was food?”
    “Yes.” He bent, and one-handed, unzipped his bag.
    “You couldn’t have said something?”
    He paused and looked at her from under his brows. “Been kinda busy with other things.”
    “But I’m hungry.”
    “You’re cold too. You’re probably so cold that you don’t feel it anymore. Now, get out of those wet clothes, or I’ll have to warm you up myself. And there will be nudity.”
    A fiery blush heated her cheeks. She shivered, and hoped it was the cold and not the image his words invoked. She knelt, or fell as her knees gave out, next to her suitcase and rummaged through her clothes. She needed layers. Lots and lots of layers. She didn’t care that he was watching her this time, didn’t even ask him to turn around. The blush must have jumpstarted her thermostat because her body started to shake, and her teeth to rattle. She was freezing. Thinking of them naked,