Dodging Cupid's Arrow

Chapter Six

The story seemed to tumble out of her head, word after word, sentence after sentence, as if the entire text had been there all along. The wolves and the Gebhardts, two families living in the midst of the wilderness, bent on survival. Perrie had stayed up all night putting her thoughts onto paper, rewriting each phrase until it was as perfect as it could possibly be.

She wasn't sure what had made her pick up pencil and paper. She had barely stepped inside the door of her cabin after saying a quick and uneasy goodbye to Joe, before she sat down and began to write. And until she began, she hadn't realized that her day with Joe had affected her so deeply.

Joe had called her name as she ran back to the cabin, but she'd been intent on putting some distance between them. Whenever they were together, all her resolve went right down the drain. Either they fought like a pair of pit bulls or they jumped on each other like a couple of hormone-charged teenagers. Until she figured out exactly how she wanted to handle Joe Brennan, she was going to stay away from him. So she wrote.

The day had faded, and rather than switch on a light, she brought an old kerosene lamp to the table. The soft glow seemed to enfold her in a world of her own making, a world without modern conveniences… deadlines and sources… story meetings and proofreaders. For the first time in many years, she wrote from her heart, not from her head. And she rediscovered the true joy of crafting a beautiful sentence, of taking a reader to a place they'd never been.

She had worked all night, catching only snatches of sleep before another turn of phrase would invade her dreams and she'd need to get up and jot it down. Then she would sleep again, and sometimes, mingled with the images of the wolves, she'd see Joe and he would become part of her story, personifying the wolf who had roamed the frigid winters alone.

She had tried to put their encounter in the wilderness out of her head. But it returned again and again. At first, throwing herself back into her work had been an antidote, the perfect way to put his kisses out of her head. But later, she enjoyed the memories, lingering over them as she wrote, reliving the feel of his hands on her body, his mouth over hers.

The day had dawned bright and clear, and when Perrie awoke she saw the story scattered beside her over the quilt. Slowly, she reread what she'd written, making a few more edits. Then she got up and carefully recopied the text onto clean paper. Though she'd brought her laptop along with her, this story didn't want to be written on a computer. This story was more like a letter-a letter from the wilderness.

Although this wasn't the type of story she usually wrote, she was still proud of how it came out. And she was anxious to find out if Milt thought there was any merit in the writing. Not that he'd run the story, but perhaps he'd enjoy her insights on Alaska.

"A fax machine," she murmured, tugging a bulky knit sweater over her head. "They've got to have a fax machine up at the lodge." Perrie retrieved her mukluks from near the door and pulled them on, then grabbed her jacket and the sheaf of paper that was her story.

The air was crisp and biting and her breath clouded in front of her face as she trudged up to the lodge. The low log building had stirred her curiosity more than once since she'd arrived, but she'd tried to avoid it, knowing that Joe lived inside. She preferred the privacy of her own cabin.

As she stepped up onto the wide porch, she noticed an old carving above the door. No Wimin Kin Pass. Perrie smiled. Obviously the bachelors who lived inside felt it necessary to protect themselves from predatory females. Below the large block letters, she read another phrase. "Except for Julia," she murmured.

Perrie stepped back, wondering who Julia was and why she was admitted entrance to the lodge. "Well, if Julia can go inside, I certainly can," Perrie said.

She hesitated for a moment and tried to come up with an offhand greeting for Joe. After what had passed between them yesterday, she wanted to make it clear that she would not tolerate any more spontaneous kissing… or touching. She'd be polite and friendly. And when she felt that familiar surge of desire that raced through her whenever he came near… well then, she'd just turn around and walk away.

Her resolve firmly in place, Perrie rapped on the front door and waited for a reply. But when no one came to answer, she knocked again. After the third try, she decided to venture inside.

The interior of the lodge was a complete surprise. She expected something as rough as the exterior. But instead, she entered a huge room that combined a cozy country feel with rugged log walls and a stone fireplace. Brightly colored woven blankets draped the chairs and sofa, and scattered about the room were interesting little pieces of Alaskan art-a carving here, a handwoven basket there. Rag rugs covered the plank floors and a fire snapped and popped in the fireplace. Compared to her bare-bones cabin, the lodge was backwoods luxury.

"Hello?" she called. "Is anybody home?"

Her call was answered by a high-pitched voice and a flurry of footsteps. A small boy, pale-haired and wide-eyed, appeared from the rear of the other side of the great room. "I'm here!" he cried.

When he saw her, he stopped short then adjusted his glasses on his upturned nose. "Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm Perrie. Who are you?"

"I'm Sam. I live here. Are you looking for my dad?"

Perrie frowned. "That depends on who your dad is," she said. Joe hadn't said a word about having a son, and Hawk didn't seem like the fatherly type. One of the brides had mentioned that the third partner in the lodge had recently married, but he hadn't been married long enough to have a child so old. "I'm looking for Joe."

Sam sauntered up to her side and studied her unabashedly. "Joe isn't my dad, he's my uncle. Well, he's not really my uncle, he's more like a big brother. Or maybe my best friend. My dad's name is Tanner. He's really my stepdad. We flew in from Fairbanks this morning." His eyes twinkled. "Boy, are my arms tired." A giggle burst from his lips and Perrie couldn't help but smile. His laughter was infectious. "That's a joke," he said.

"I know," Perrie replied, joining in his delight.

"What is going on in here?" A slender blonde appeared next to Sam, a dish towel clutched in her hands. "I can hear you all the way in the kitchen!" She stopped when she saw Perrie, then regarded her with a curious. gaze.

"I'm sorry," Perrie said. "I knocked, but there was no, answer. I'm looking for Joe."

A smile touched the woman's lips. "Are you Joe's Perrie?"

Perrie returned her smile hesitantly. "No. I mean, yes. I'm Perrie… but I'm not…" Her words trailed off. Trying to explain exactly what she was to Joe Brennan was becoming more complicated every day.

"I was just going to walk up to your cabin and meet you!" the woman cried. "I'm Julia Lo-I mean, Julia O'Neill. I've only been married a month. It's strange getting used to the new name." She paused. "So, how has your stay been? Have you been comfortable? I hope Joe has been taking good care of you. He's not usually in charge of hospitality, but Tanner and I have been at loose ends this last month, with the wedding and the move and-" Julia paused again. "Would you care for some breakfast? I've made some muffins."

"Is Joe here?" Perrie asked.

"He's down at the airstrip with my husband. They're unloading all our things. Sam and I just closed up our apartment in Chicago. We're going to be living here now. Is there something I can help you with?"

"I was wondering if the lodge has a fax machine," Perrie asked.

"We sure do. Tanner just put one in last month. It really helps with the reservations and trip details. It's in the kitchen." Julia motioned Perrie to follow her and they walked through a large dining room filled with old tables and a hodgepodge of antique and handmade chairs. Beyond a swinging door was a huge kitchen, as rustic and cozy as the rest of the lodge.

"The fax machine is over there by the phone," Julia said. "Why don't you send your papers and then we'll sit down and visit?"

Like Ann, Julia seemed anxious for female company. Perrie suspected that adjusting to life in Muleshoe was difficult, especially coming from a city like Chicago. Yet Julia seemed incredibly happy and excited, the same as Ann had been. They had their husbands and their families and a life full of challenges.

Perrie had her job. That had always been enough, more challenge than she could handle at times. But when compared to carving out a life in Alaska, Perrie's twenty-four-hour-a-day job as an investigative reporter seemed to lose a bit of its luster.

Sure, people in Seattle knew her name and they waited to read her stories. And she waited, impatiently, for someone to do something wrong. That summed up her whole career. She preyed on the indiscretions of others, exposing their foibles to the entire city of Seattle and delighting in their punishment. Without criminal intent and old-fashioned greed, she wouldn't have a job.

When she looked at it like that, she suddenly saw her career unfold in front of her. What would she be doing in a year… five years… ten years? Would she still be watching and waiting, hoping that some prominent person might take a step on the wrong side of the law? Would she still eat, breathe and sleep her work? Or would she find a new road to take, the way Ann and Julia had?

"Perrie? Do you know how to operate this machine?"

Startled from her musings, Perrie turned and nodded to Julia. "Yes. I-I was just trying to remember the number."

Page by page, her story went through the phone lines from Muleshoe, Alaska, all the way to Seattle. Within a few hours, Milt would read it. She could already hear his tirade as he wondered where her brides story was. In another few days, she'd take part in the Muleshoe Games and she'd finish the story she'd been assigned. And then she'd go home to her comfortable apartment and her exciting career.

"Would you like to sit down and have a cup of coffee?" Julia asked.

Perrie stared down as the last pages slipped into the machine. "I-I can't. I really have some tilings to take care of." The truth be told, now that she'd avoided Joe's company, she wanted to get out of the lodge before he returned. She wasn't at all sure that she had enough resolve to keep from wanting him as much as she had the last time they were together.

"I can't believe you're comfortable up at that cabin," Julia said. "We have an extra room here in the lodge. You're welcome to stay down here."

"My cabin is fine," Perrie replied.

"But traipsing to the outhouse and hauling in that tub to take a bath… "

"It's all part of the wilderness experience."

"Well, I certainly couldn't put up with it," Julia said.

Perrie frowned. "But you live here."

"And we have a bathroom," Julia said.

A gasp broke from Perrie's throat. "A bathroom? An indoor bathroom? You don't have to walk to the outhouse in the middle of the night?"

"Of course not," Julia said. "That's why I couldn't understand why you'd choose to live in one of the cabins when you could have stayed down here."

"I could have stayed here in the lodge?"

"I did when I first came here," Julia said. "Although I'm not surprised that Joe put you out in one of the cabins, considering the legend."

"What legend?"

"There's a carving above the door. The prospectors that lived here during the gold rush believed that any woman who crossed the threshold of the lodge would marry one of the inhabitants."

"And I've been hiking to the outhouse in subzero weather and bathing in the sink because Joe Brennan thinks I might decide I want to marry him?"

Julia considered Perrie's words for a moment, then nodded as if the logic were quite acceptable. "Yes, I suppose so."

"Julia, where do you want these boxes?" The sound of Joe's voice echoed through the lodge and Perrie's temper bubbled. The kitchen door swung open and he stood in the doorway, boxes piled so high they blocked his face.

"You can put them down here," Julia said, glancing nervously between Perrie and Joe.

Joe lowered the stack to the floor, then straightened, coming face-to-face with Perrie. He blinked in surprise, then gave her an uneasy smile. '"Morning," he murmured. She expected to be uncomfortable with him, especially after what they'd shared the day before. But she'd also thought they'd left all the anger behind them, that they'd become friends. She'd been sadly mistaken.

"You put Perrie out in a cabin?" Julia asked. "Without heat and indoor plumbing? You made her cook her own meals and make her own bed? Is this any way to treat a guest here?"

Joe scowled at Julia. "She's not really a guest."

"Aren't we being paid by her newspaper? Isn't it true that our rate includes all meals?"

"Well, yes. But this is a different situation."

Julia slowly approached Joe until they stood toe to toe. "Here's the situation. I want you to go up to Miss Kincaid's cabin, gather her belongings and bring them back here to the lodge. And then I want you to make our guest as comfortable as possible."

Perrie stiffened her spine and forced a smile. "That's really not necessary. I'm perfectly happy staying in the cabin." With that, she sent Joe a murderous look-a look that said there would be no more long, deep kisses between them. And the last thing she wanted to do was sleep under the same roof as Joe Brennan.

She stalked out of the room, cursing softly with each step. Her thoughts, a jumble of anger and frustration, detoured to an image of Joe Brennan, naked, asleep amid rumpled sheets… finely muscled chest… long, sinewy arms.

"Stop it," she scolded out loud. "You should be thinking about how you're going to get back to Seattle, not wondering what Joe Brennan looks like in bed."

Joe watched as Perrie stormed out of the kitchen. He shook his head and wagged his finger at Julia. "You enjoy making me squirm, don't you?"

Julia grinned, then stepped over to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'm going to turn you into a sensitive male if it takes me the rest of my life."

Joe growled. "I should have known you women would stick together."

"There are precious few of us here at the lodge, Brennan," Julia said, wiping her lipstick from Joe's cheek. "I'll do everything I can to even the odds a bit."

Joe picked up a box and hefted it onto the counter. "Don't even think about it. Just because Perrie Kincaid stepped over that threshold does not mean I'm going to marry her. We don't even like each other."

That wasn't entirely true, Joe thought to himself. He liked Perrie more than he wanted to admit. But right now, he would venture that she didn't have a particularly high opinion of him.

"She seems like a lovely woman," Julia said. "I already like her."

Hawk and Tanner strode into the kitchen at that very moment, with Sam hard on their heels. "Hey, I just saw Perrie Kincaid on the porch," Tanner said. "Did she come inside?"

Joe cursed and sent Tanner a poisonous glare. "Don't you start with me. Your wife has already covered that subject quite thoroughly. No, I won't be marrying Perrie Kincaid. Hell, if she's going to marry anyone here, it will be Hawk. She can't seem to stop talking about him." Just the thought brought a nagging jealousy, but it was about time Joe found out what really was going on between the two of them.

Tanner and Julia both turned an inquisitive gaze in Hawk's direction. "Well," Julia said, "what do you have to say for yourself?"

"I gave her mukluks," Hawk replied. "I'm helping her get ready for the Muleshoe Games."

Joe's jaw dropped. "You're helping her?"

Hawk nodded.

"Do you know why she wants to win the brides' competition? So she can get herself up to Cooper and find a pilot to fly her back to Seattle, where someone will probably take another shot at her. She's here in Muleshoe for her own safety."

"You sound awfully concerned for the lady," Tanner commented.

"For a lady he doesn't even like," Julia added as she wandered over to the fax machine. "Perrie left her papers here. Why don't you take them up to the cabin? And while you're there, you can apologize for your inhospitable attitude. Invite her to have dinner with us. And tell her she can stay in the spare room."

"I wouldn't have to apologize if you hadn't made her mad," Joe said, snatching the sheaf of papers from Julia's hand.

"Just kiss her," Sam suggested. "That's what Tanner does when my mom gets mad."

Joe ruffled Sam's hair as he passed. "I'll keep that in mind. I daresay I trust your advice a whole lot more than I trust your mom's."

He made the trip up to Perrie's cabin slowly, not because he loathed the thought of apologizing to her, but because as he walked, he read the story that she'd left behind. With every step, he was drawn more deeply into her words, the stunning visual images she created out of a simple turn of phrase. He'd always known she was a writer, but he never expected she possessed such talent. He thought she wrote about criminals and politicians and greedy businessmen. Not about wolves and the wilderness and the bonds of family.

He finished her story as he stood on the front porch of her cabin, and when he read the last word, he sat down on the top step and read it all over again. He sat there a long time, thinking about Perrie and the wolves, about loneliness and love. And he realized that he had been wasting his time.

Sooner or later, Perrie Kincaid would go back to Seattle and she'd be gone from his life for good. There was a time when he had wished for that day. But now, he wanted her to stay. Something had drawn them together yesterday at the Flats and he needed to know what it was-because it wasn't just simple lust.

He wanted Perrie Kincaid more than he'd ever wanted a woman before. But he didn't want her in his bed-at least that wasn't the only place he wanted her. He wanted her beside him when he watched the wolves the next time, and he wanted her across the breakfast table tomorrow morning. He wanted to show her the northern lights and the beauty of an Alaskan summer. He wanted her to be there when the ice broke on the Yukon and when it froze again in the winter.

Most of all, he wanted time. Time to figure out why he wanted more time. Time to find out if this fascination he had with her was transitory, or whether he'd be cursed with it for the rest of his life. Time to come to the conclusion that he and Perrie Kincaid weren't meant to fall in love and get married.

The door behind him opened and he turned to find Perrie watching him. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she still looked angry. "How long are you going to sit out here?"

He held up the story. "You left this at the lodge."

She took it from him and rolled it up. "I'm not moving to the lodge."

"I didn't expect you would." He paused. "It's a wonderful story, Kincaid. As I was reading it, I could see it all over again. You have an incredible talent. Why do you waste it writing about criminals?"

She walked to the porch rail and looked out at a stand of spruce. "What I do is important," she said evenly. "It makes a difference. This is a silly story about wolves. It doesn't make a difference to anyone."

"It makes a difference to me, Perrie. It makes me feel something inside. When I read it, it moved me."

Perrie turned and stared at him blankly, as if she didn't understand what he was trying to say, then shook her head. "It's nothing," she said firmly, folding the papers up and shoving them in the back pocket of her jeans. She took a deep breath and pushed away from the porch railing. "Where's Burdy?"

"He's probably in his cabin."

"I need some breakfast. I want to go into Muleshoe."

Joe stood up and moved toward her. "I could take you," he offered. When she backed away, he stopped and held up his hand.

"I'd rather go with Burdy," she said.

"Listen, I know you're angry. And I'm sorry. I should have asked you to stay in the lodge. It's much more comfortable and-"

"It doesn't make a difference," Perrie replied in a cool voice. "I wouldn't have stayed there anyway. The cabin is just fine."

"No, it's not. It's-"

"What do you want from me?" she snapped. "Do you need absolution for being a jerk? Do you think complimenting my writing is going to smooth everything out?"

"I thought that-"

"I don't belong here," she said in a weary voice. "I belong back in Seattle. And you're the one who's keeping me here."

"I know how important your work is to you, but I made a promise to Milt and I'm going to keep it."

"A promise to make me miserable?"

"A promise to keep you safe."

"But why you?"

Joe had never told another soul what Milt Freeman had done for him. But now it was time to tell Perrie.

Maybe then she'd understand why it was so important for her to stay in Muleshoe.

"Right after I got out of law school, I worked for the public defender's office in Seattle. I was so full of myself, thinking I'd stand up for the rights of the common man and make the world a better place. But that wasn't the way it turned out. Mostly, I represented criminals. But I did my job very well.

"One day, I had the pleasure of representing a young punk named Tony Riordan. He was your basic wise-guy wannabe who'd been running a small extortion business shaking down some of Seattle's immigrant shopkeepers. I represented him, I lost the case, and he went to jail for six months."

Perrie's jaw dropped. "You knew Tony Riordan?"

"Intimately. After the trial, Mr. Riordan took it upon himself to send a few of his associates to my house to express his displeasure at the verdict. But before I got home that day, a reporter named Milt Freeman called me and warned me. He'd heard from one of his sources that Tony wanted a little payback."

"So Milt saved your life?"

"Or at least my pretty profile," Joe said with a laugh. "The point is, Tony Riordan was dangerous back then and he had nothing to lose. He's got a lot more to lose now, Perrie, and you're the one who's threatening to take it away."

"I can take care of myself," Perrie said stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Joe cursed softly. "Is it so hard to believe that someone cares about you?" Her mouth tensed into a thin line and Joe knew that he'd finally driven his point home. "Milt cares about you. And I care about you."

A cynical smile curled her lips and her chin tipped up defiantly. "I guess you'll do anything to keep me here, won't you." She started down the front steps. "I've got to find Burdy."

"Come on, Perrie," he chided, following after her. "You can't stay mad at me forever."

She turned, grinning at him as she swaggered backward. "Just watch me, Brennan."

"Why can't you think of this as a learning experience?" he called. "I bet you'll never walk into your bathroom again without appreciating the beauty of indoor plumbing. Or turn up the heat without remembering the wood you hauled to feed the stove in the cabin."

"Keep talking, Brennan. Sooner or later you might just convince yourself that you're doing a good thing by keeping me here."

He stopped and watched her walk toward Burdy's, admiring the quick sway of her hips, the focused energy of her stride. Chuckling to himself, he started back toward the lodge.

It was getting harder and harder to stay angry at Perrie Kincaid. To tell the truth, the more he knew of her, the more he liked her. She was stubborn and opinionated and she knew her own mind. She didn't let anybody push her around. He admired that about her.

Beyond that, he thought she was just about the prettiest woman he'd ever known. He'd never really looked at her as anything but a pain in the backside, tough as nails and prickly as a hawthorn tree. But then, out of the clear blue, he had come to realize just how incredibly alluring she was.

Joe shook his head. That was one opinion he'd have to keep to himself. It wouldn't do to have everyone in the lodge and all of Muleshoe know that he was attracted to Perrie Kincaid.

Perrie slid onto a bar stool and grabbed a menu. Paddy Doyle lumbered over and wiped his hands on his apron, "Miz Kincaid. How are you this sunny morning?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Doyle. I think I'll have a lumberjack breakfast… with an extra order of bacon… cheese on the hash browns… and a double milk."

Paddy raised his eyebrow. "You sure you want all that for breakfast? You usually just have a doughnut and coffee."

"I'm in training," Perrie said.

Paddy scribbled her order on a scrap of paper, then walked it back to the kitchen. He returned a few moments later with a large glass of milk. "I heard you're entering the brides' competition," he said. "All the bachelors around town are lookin' forward to seeing how you fare. See if you're decent marriage material."

Perrie smiled. "The rules say any single woman can enter. But this single woman isn't interested in marriage. Just in the first prize."

"I also heard that you spent some time inside the Bachelor Creek Lodge this morning."

Perrie blinked in surprise. She'd visited the lodge less than an hour ago and already Muleshoe's version of Walter Cronkite was on the story. "My first and last visit."

"I wouldn't be too certain of that. A lady sets foot in the lodge and she's bound to be married." Paddy laughed. "Not one of them boys paid a cent into the bride scheme and now they're falling like tall timber. First Tanner. Now Joe. Hawk will be next."

"I'm not marrying Joe Brennan," Perrie insisted.

"I bet Joe was plenty mad when he found out you got inside the lodge. He's been dodging marriage since I met him five years ago. You know, he's dated pretty near every available woman in east Alaska."

"I know that, Mr. Doyle. Everyone knows that. Seems Joe's social life is front-page news around Muleshoe."

"Would be, if we had a newspaper." Paddy rubbed his chin. Bracing his foot on an empty beer barrel, he leaned up against the bar. "You work in the newspaper business, right?"

"When I'm not withering away in the wilds of Alaska," she said, sipping at her milk.

"I need some advice." Paddy reached back and untied his apron. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

Her curiosity piqued, she followed him through the bar to a rear door, then up a dusty narrow stairway to the second story of the building. Paddy came to another door and threw it open.

"This stuff has been up here forever," he said. "I was thinkin' about putting in a nice dance hall up here, for parties and weddings and such."

"What is this?" Perrie asked.

"This is what's left of the Muleshoe Monitor," Paddy explained. "Paper started when this was a boomtown during the gold rush days. Lasted until the thirties and then the old guy that ran it moved to Fairbanks."

"This is incredible," Perrie said, moving to stand near the line of old wood cabinets on the wall. The galleys from the final edition of the Monitor still lay on the table, covered with years and years of dust. She brushed off the masthead to get a better look. "When I was in junior high, I worked for my town newspaper. They had all the old block type left and they used it for signs and posters. I would sit and cast headlines. Local Girl Wins Pulitzer, Kincaid Awarded Nobel Peace Prize. Things like that. Now it's all done on computer."

"I want to sell this stuff," Paddy said. "What do you think it's worth?"

Perrie picked up a composing stick. "This is… probably not worth much. I'm not really sure. To someone like me, it's fascinating. When I was a kid, I dreamed about having my own paper."

"Back when Muleshoe was a boomtown, in '98, we had enough folks living here to support a paper. Nearly two thousand. And with all the money bein' made, there was plenty of news. The guy that ran the place passed on in 1951 and no one ever came back to claim his property. That press has been sittin' there ever since, collecting dust. Probably take half the men in this town to move the thing. Or I guess we could break it apart."

"Oh, no!" Perrie cried. "You can't do that."

Paddy shrugged. "Not much else to be done. Come on, Miz Kincaid. Let's go see if your breakfast is done. You hear of any market for this old junk, you let me know, all right?"

She nodded and Paddy headed for the door. But Perrie lingered for a moment longer. The scent of ink still permeated the room, even after nearly fifty years. She closed her eyes and her thoughts drifted back to the little print shop she'd loved when she was a kid. It was because of mat place that she'd become a reporter.

For an instant, she wished Joe was with her. She wanted to share this with him, the same way he'd shared the wolves with her, telling him about the first time she'd realized she wanted to be a newspaperwoman. And then she remembered how things had been left between them.

They were like a pair of magnets, at times attracted and at other times repelled by each other. She could understand the latter. But where did the attraction come from? Sure, he was handsome, but she'd never been hung up on physical attributes. She assumed he was intelligent, although she had never carried on a scholarly conversation with him. He was definitely charming, the type of man that most women found irresistible.

Maybe it was something else, something less obvious. Though he was friendly enough, he always seemed to stop short of any shared intimacy. Most men she'd known could talk for hours about themselves, but she hadn't managed to get a single iota of personal information out of Brennan beyond his revelation about his debt to Milt Freeman. When she questioned him, he just brushed her curiosity off with a clever quip or a teasing remark.

Perrie would hazard a guess that there hadn't been a woman on the planet who had managed to get inside Joe Brennan's head-or inside his heart. She wouldn't be the first-and she didn't want to be.