Climbing High by Madelon Smid

noticed, he hoped she put it down to his worry for the company.
    “Ah, that feels better.” Her long exhalation sent him rushing to open the fridge door. He pulled out the makings for Spanish omelets, one of his go-to late night snacks and set them by the range. Within minutes he had onions, peppers and chorizo sautéing in a pan and eggs beat into a creamy mix with chopped cilantro and a sprinkle of hot sauce added. By focusing on his cooking, he’d managed to get his body under control, but now realized he hadn’t asked Siree her preference.
    “That smells delicious. I love spicy food.” She took a sip of the fruity merlot he’d set before her. “And a good red.” She smiled at him. About to pour the eggs into the pan, he fumbled and slopped some on the counter. “Can I help?” She swept her hand to the side. “Set the places perhaps?” Her laugh came close to a giggle.
    It seemed wine went a long way to relaxing her. Jake accepted her teasing with a deprecating smile at his own clumsiness. He pulled placemats, napkins and cutlery from several drawers and dropped them onto the counter in front of her. “Be my guest.”
    He popped pieces of dark rye bread covered with slices of Swiss raclette cheese under the broiler. Pulling the plates from the warming drawer of the oven, he divided the omelet onto them. He tucked the bread and a small dish of salsa on the side. “Soup’s on.”
    Jake set the plates on the counter and walked around it, aiming for the stool at her side. Siree’s hair stopped him in his tracks. It fell golden and heavy in luxuriant waves and curls ten inches past her bottom. He wanted to touch it so badly his hand shook and he fisted his fingers. Something like that came damn close to sexual harassment. It frustrated him to have to deal with her as an employee when they’d forged a more personal link on the top of that mountain. The magnetic pull hovered like a specter in the air between them, seen, but not touchable. She rejected the magnetic pull because of his notoriety. He had to push against it in order to give her the respect an employee deserved. And if those reasons didn’t dial back the heat, he still had a stalker whose latest letters showed she was watching his every move, yet Gribbs and his team hadn’t once got a fix on her. She wasn’t just crazy. She was cunning.
    He sat down at the high counter and dug into his supper. They ate in silence for a few minutes. She seemed in a partial trance, so he left her alone, hoping she’d get some food into her. She’d definitely lost weight since arriving in Vancouver and he didn’t like seeing her so fragile. After a few mouthfuls, she perked up and started eating in earnest. Again, he experienced a warm sense of satisfaction associated with taking care of her.
    When they’d cleared their plates, she swiveled to look back down the hallway. “I will take you up on your offer to tidy up.” She scooped the handful of hairpins off the counter and slid off the stool, jerking to a halt with a soft imprecation.
    Jake saw that strands of her hair twined around the arm of the stool, holding her fast. He moved to unwind it. Silken, alive, it curled around his fingers like it sought his touch. He imagined making love with her, her hair trailing across his body. “There, you’re free,” he growled, moving away before he gathered up handfuls and buried his face in her scent.
    She disappeared down the hall and Jake turned to clear away the dishes. When he made it into the living room ten minutes later, he found her curled up in the corner of his sofa, fast asleep. She’d braided her hair in the thick, loose braid he’d first seen her wear. He ran his hand down the golden length, stealing the silken feel. He didn’t have the heart to wake her, but pulled a cashmere shawl from a chair and draped it over her. He punched in Gribbs’ number. “Stand down,” he said in a low voice. “Looks like we won’t be going anywhere for a few hours.