HEATING IT UP/CHAPTER 1

April, 13

“Stop right here.” Nora Bradford raised her voice so the driver could hear her over the engine’s rumble. The giant tractor’s snow treads ground to a halt behind Glacier Ridge Lodge.

Nora peered through the cab’s dirty windows. Her former firm’s chartered yacht was still anchored in the icy water of Amity Bay, Antarctica. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you down to the boat?” Charlie, the driver who brought Nora back to Amity Bay from McMurdo Station, leaned over, concern in his voice. “It’s a long walk with all your stuff.”

“No!” Nora twisted around in her cramped seat as much as her bulky red parka allowed and grabbed her suitcase. Tired as she was, the thing seemed to weigh a ton, but she managed to hoist it into her lap. “It’s two in the morning and you have a long drive back. Everyone on the boat is asleep. I don’t want to bother them.” She stopped. Babbling would only make him suspicious. “I’ll be fine up here, and in the morning, I’ll call down to the boat for help if I need it.”

The driver hesitated, and she sensed he didn’t like the idea of dropping her off at an empty building in the dead of night. During the three-hour drive, she’d gotten to know him a bit. Charlie seemed like a decent guy.

Unlike some.

“You sure?” Charlie said, frowning. “Don’t forget, Antarctica ain’t exactly San Francisco.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Immediately, she regretted her sarcasm. Taking her problems out on others solved nothing, and this poor guy didn’t deserve to have his head bitten off. The stress of the last few days and the seriousness of what she was about to do were clearly getting to her. Best to get on with it.

You don’t have to do this. There’s still time to change your mind.

The calm voice of her more rational self intruded, just as it had when she’d hatched this plan an hour ago. Once more she shoved it from her thoughts.

“Really, I’ll be fine.” She tipped her chin and blinked quickly to clear the fresh tears. She gave a shaky laugh. “I designed this place. It’s only natural I’d want to spend one last night here. And you need to get back to McMurdo, so you don’t miss your flight home.”

“True,” Charlie agreed. “Hey, you have a good trip back to San Fran.”

Nora sniffed. “Right. And you have a good trip back to the States, too. Cleveland, right?”

“Yep. It’ll be good to get home.”

For Charlie, who had something to go back to, it probably was good. Nora slid down from the cab, dragging her suitcase behind her. She let him see her inside, then sent him on his way.

Inside, the lodge was quiet and empty, just as she’d hoped. She moved through the first floor then up the stairs, making as little noise as possible, alert for anyone who might have slept here after last night’s Dedication Gala. When she safely reached the third floor, she released a sigh. For now, she was alone. But there was no time to waste.

Quickly, she opened an out-of-the-way linen closet—-one that locked—and stashed her belongings. Shaking off her fatigue, she flew into action, racing through the lodge, gathering up batteries, light bulbs, tissue, soap. Canned food from the pantry. Vegetable seeds for the hydroponic greenhouse. Frozen meat, cheese and wine. Anything she could use during the long, dark Antarctic winter.

In the kitchen, she found trays of party leftovers. Adrenaline had stolen her appetite, but she forced herself to gorge on an impromptu breakfast of imported cheeses and bacon-wrapped shrimp. She carefully rewrapped what was left. Someone from the ship was obviously coming back for it. She retreated upstairs.

Weak sunshine shone down through the third-floor skylights as Nora stood before the closet and inventoried what she’d hunted, gathered, and stored. She’d not wanted to take so much that it would be missed, but what she had looked pitifully meager. Not nearly enough to survive on for six months in the harshest environment on earth. When everyone came back in September to reopen the lodge, they could be in for one hell of a surprise.

Stop it. You put every high-tech fail-safe known to man in this building. You’re linked by satellite to Vancouver and even to that little research station at the bottom of the hill. What’s the worst that could happen?

That someone would find her before the week was out, put her on the first plane home, and contact her former firm. Herbert would paint her as a crazy ex-employee. Her career in sustainable architecture would be over, and she’d never work again.

The other worst-case scenario? That her fail-safes would fail and she’d freeze to death. Or run out of food and starve to death. On the bright side, at least she’d be with Blake again.

Her body shuddered with the force of long-suppressed grief breaking free. Hot tears gushed forth like a geyser and streamed down her face. She cupped one hand to her mouth in a futile effort to contain herself and clutched the closet door in case her trembling knees buckled. Everything was gone. The man she loved. The career she’d poured her shattered heart and soul into. Her future. Her hope. Everything.

Gone.

And why? She’d done everything right! She’d followed every rule. Never caused trouble. Never did anything rash. And what did she have to show for it? Nothing. Not a blessed thing.

Her breath hitched and she swiped her wet nose and cheeks with her sleeve. Then she clutched the door tighter, every nerve taut, as the sound of voices and laughter echoed in the cavernous lobby.

Someone was here! Could they have heard her?

Her first thought was to hide in the closet, but there was no room. Instead, she locked it and fled into the nearest guestroom. Nora lay still beneath the covered king-sized bed, listening.

One of the people downstairs was her ex-boss Herbert Quinn, who’d taken advantage of her hard work, denied her the promotion he’d promised, and then fired her. The reedy nasal voice belonged to Mark Jenkins, the backstabbing colleague who’d taken credit for the beautiful building she’d designed. If she was discovered, they’d force her onto the yacht for a misery cruise back to a life of loneliness, heartache, and unemployment.

No thanks.

The sounds of clattering plates and mealtime laughter drifted up. No one seemed aware of missing supplies; no one seemed to be coming upstairs. They were here to eat, and they were taking their time about it. In an odd way, the sounds were comforting and in her warm, shadowy hiding place, the tightness in Nora’s body relaxed. Exhaustion finally caught up with her. Thanks to a sleepless, emotional night rumbling cross-country in a tractor, her eyelids felt like lead. She’d close them just for a minute.

The next thing she knew, she was surrounded by darkness. She raised her head and slammed into something hard. “Oow! What the…?”

Where was she anyway?

Oh yeah. That was where.

She lay back down, rubbing her head where she’d banged it on the underside of the bed. Time slowed as reality set in. Last night, the thought of sailing home with the people who’d fired her had seemed intolerable. It was small potatoes compared to her situation now.

Slowly, she crawled from beneath the bed, then sat with her back against the wall too stunned to go any further. She was alone. A squatter in Antarctica. Well, she’d wanted to break some rules. Do something rash. Here was her chance. She might even make history. Assuming she survived.

The thought made her laugh, but as her laughter sputtered to an end, the oppressive silence of the huge empty lodge settled all around. She buried her head in her hands. Oh my God, what have I done?

The answer was the creak of footsteps on the stairs.

Nora gasped and swallowed. Her heart raced and moisture oiled her palms. She called out in a trembling voice. “Herbert? Mark? Is that you?”

Without waiting for an answer, she struggled to her feet and raced from the room. They were still here! It wasn’t too late! She could put this ridiculous scheme behind her and go back to San Francisco like a sane person. Thank God!

“Hello! Hello! It’s Nora! I changed my mind! I’m coming with you!”

No one was on the stairs or in the lobby. Shit! They must have gone outside. She could still catch them if she hurried. She dashed across the lobby, slipping in her socks on the polished wood floor.

“Wait! Don’t leave without me!”

Nora burst out the front door and onto the veranda. A blast of frigid wind sliced through her sweater and stopped her in her tracks.

She stared down at the bay. Night was falling. And the yacht was gone.

Praise for

“A fun and quick read with a very in-depth feel, wonderful characters and some saucy romance. A story I’d definitely recommend. 4 Hearts!”- Sassy Book Lovers

“Elizabeth Harmon once again makes it easy for any reader to picture just how enchanting a place as seemingly daunting as Antarctica can be. This is probably my favorite setting among all the books currently released.” -Dog Eared Daydreams

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