Running From Love
How can a brooding, Ivy League, college professor with a heart wrapped in steel find love with a high school dropout who is hiding from the law and living a lie?
Word Count: 48,330
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Available formats: : PDF, RTF, Epub, HTML, Mobipocket (.prc)
© Cover Art by Eliza Black, June 2004
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Alex gripped the door handle as the single-engine Piper Cub lifted off. She was grateful that it had cleared the trees, because earlier when she climbed aboard from the small motorboat hauling a backpack and cameras, the Pilot, Cooly, had studied her with a skeptical eye, grumbling about her exceeding the weight limit. Just ahead of her now and all around she could see for miles--endless blue skies and a myriad of lakes that sparkled like glitter along the tundra. Trees, thick and green but stunted, carpeted the base of the bald jagged mountains that layered one in back of the other.
Sometimes the pilot would go around and through the sharp walls of granite, and sometimes he’d barely clear them and then dodge the next row that suddenly appeared.
She began to wonder if he knew what he was doing.
As if in answer, he took a sudden dive for a lake below and then spun into a 90 degree turn. When she white-knuckled the dash he chuckled softly.
For the first time since leaving Philadelphia, she questioned her sanity in coming here. While the thousands of acres of untouched landscape was beyond anything she could imagine, there was no sign of a road, let alone a house.
No sign of anything--people, help, a hospital, drug store to buy tampons. She felt the beginnings of a self-imposed panic attack and took deep breaths, reminding herself that the isolation it offered was exactly the point. Instead, she rehearsed the story she’d concocted and counted the minutes until she could plant her feet on the ground again.
An hour later Cooley spoke into the radio through clenched teeth, black spittle pooling at the corners of his mouth. Alex could only distinguish the words “buzz the camp” over the hum of the engines.
She closed her eyes as he leaned forward and with perfect aim spit into a small vessel in the corner of the miniscule cabin. The smell of rancid chewing tobacco in the claustrophobic cabin had her biting back the bile rising in her throat. This was male territory, Bush Alaska. She had better get used to it.
A voice scratched over the radio, signaling that they were close. As they rounded another mountain, it suddenly appeared--lush and pristine, untouched. She drew in a breath and pressed her face against the cool side window until Cooley tapped her shoulder and pointed for her to look ahead.
The nose of the plane dipped and dove straight for the shimmery blue of the water, dazzling in the high afternoon sun. The engines roared, and the dials on the dashboard spun crazily. Her heart leaped into her throat.
This can’t be how a floatplane lands.