Libby swore she would never use the word fond again, in any context.
When her flight touched down in Anchorage, she rented a car and drove out to Spenard, knowing it would be past 6:00 p.m. but hoping Carson would still be at Alaska Salvage. She parked in front of the Quonset hut and walked inside. His office was empty, but she heard a clattering from one of the bays and found Trig there, working on a piece of equipment. He glanced up when she walked in.
“Hey, Libby,” he said as casually as if he’d just seen her that morning. She doubted anything ever phased Trig. He was, as Carson had said, as cool and steady as they came. He stood up and wiped his hands on a greasy rag. “You just missed Carson. We got back from a salvage job in Valdez this afternoon and as soon as our gear was unpacked he called it quits early and headed over to the marina. He’s getting that old leaky house boat of his ready to be hauled for the winter. I’ll tell you how to get there.”
“He didn’t know I was coming, Trig,” Libby said. “If he’s busy, I don’t want to bother him. I can just stop by in the morning….”
Trig shook his head and held up his hand. “If I didn’t send you over there now, as in right now, and Carson found out? I tell you what, the king’d murder me in cold blood. He’s been moping around like a kicked dog ever since we left Evening Lake. C’mon into the office and I’ll draw you a map of the marina. That place is big and there are lots of boats.”
Ten minutes later she was breathing chilly October air at the marina and, with the help of Trig’s map, she searched the lighted docks for the vintage wooden power boat Carson lived on called Vertigo. She found it easily and stood on the wharf, suddenly overcome with doubts. She knew Carson would be glad to get the money, but would he be glad to see her? In spite of what Trig had implied, Carson might have been moping because his company was reputedly in serious financial trouble, not because he was missing her.
She wondered how one knocked on a boat when the owner wasn’t on deck. Wondered if perhaps he was entertaining one of his many love interests below deck. She didn’t have to wonder very long. Even as she stood there pondering her next move there was a thumping sound from inside the hull and then footsteps climbing the stairs. The cabin door kicked open and quite suddenly he appeared, nearly two months on the mend since she’d last seen him, looking borderline salty, a day or so unshaven and very virile. He was carrying a cardboard box in his arms and when he caught site of her he tripped on the last step, fumbled and nearly lost his grip.
“Hello, Carson,” she said. “It’s good to see you.”
He recovered his composure, leaned over the side of the boat, dropped the box onto the dock and braced his hands on the railing. He gave her a long stare. “I heard you went back East.”
“Just temporarily.” She held up the brown paper bag she carried. “I brought you a little something.”
He straightened but his expression remained cryptic. “Come aboard.”
He helped her onto the boat and then gestured for her to descend the steep stairs. Below deck Libby was surprised at how neat and cozy his living quarters were and grateful for the warmth thrown by the small cast iron stove, especially after Carson’s less than warm welcome. An oil lamp burned in a brass gimbal, casting a soft glow on the polished woodwork inside the cabin. He helped her out of her overcoat and gave her another appraising up-and-down. She was still dressed in her traveling clothes, a conservative dark wool skirt suit, white linen blouse and low heels. “Nice outfit,” he commented.
“Trig told me you were preparing to haul this boat for the winter. Where will you live?”
He shrugged. “Most of the cannery workers’ve gone back to the lower forty-eight. I’ll find a cheap apartment somewhere. When did you get back in town?”
They stared at each other for a few awkward moments while the boat rocked gently at the dock. “My flight just arrived an hour ago,” Libby said, struggling to match his cool tone of voice. It was patently obvious from his behavior that he hadn’t missed her. Hadn’t thought about her or lain awake at night, tossing and turning and wishing she were there beside him. Those torments had been hers alone. “I have your money. It’s inside the bag in a plain envelope. I hope a certified bank check is acceptable.”
Carson took the offered bag and set it on the table without so much as a glance inside, not the least bit curious about why the bag weighed so much. He regarded her for a few moments more, then turned away abruptly, heaved an exasperated sigh and turned back, instantly shedding his aloof demeanor. “Goddammit, Libby, it’s been nearly two whole months. I thought you’d dropped off the edge of the earth!”
“I told you it would take some time for the DNA testing and the legal paperwork,” Libby said, immediately on the defensive. “I brought the money as soon as I could.”
“Money? Hell, that’s not what I’m talking about,” he said, his voice gaining strength. “You could have called and let me know you were all right, let me know how things were going, let me know you were going back East. I had to read about you in the newspapers. You could’ve called. You knew how to get hold of me!”
Libby was completely taken aback by this accusatory outburst. “I’m sorry, but I wanted to make sure I had good news before I contacted you, and I told you it would probably take two months.”
“One phone call, Libby. I’d have traded that entire goddamn certified bank check for just one phone call from you!”
His words astonished her. His eyes burned into hers and she felt trapped by their intensity. Had she been wrong about him having a girl in every port? Did he really and truly care about her, above and beyond all others?
“The newspapers ran the stories about Daniel Frey, even back East,” she said in a voice that trembled with emotion. “I read about how Frey accused your company of salvaging the plane for your own interests and violating Connor’s resting place, and how he dragged your financial situation through the mud. He didn’t dare mention me, so he took it all out on you. When I read those awful stories…” Libby felt the sting of tears and drew a sharp, painful breath. “As soon as I had the results from the DNA testing I called the reporters who wrote them and told them the truth, and then I pushed hard to move the legal paperwork along. I tried to get the money to pay you as soon as possible. I knew it would be a big help so I came back with it as soon as I could. I’m sorry for not calling you, Carson. I…I guess I didn’t know how much you wanted me to. Back at the lake while you were salvaging the plane it was like you were trying to avoid me.”
“Avoid you? How in hell could I have gotten anywhere near you after you brought your mother there to act as your bodyguard?”
“Bodyguard?” Libby could hardly believe he’d said that. She felt a hot surge of anger. “The reason I brought my mother there was because she’s been ill and I wanted to keep an eye on her. It certainly wasn’t to keep you at arm’s length. And as long as we’re talking about bodyguards, your salvage crew did a pretty good job of running interference on your behalf.”
He turned away from her but could only pace two steps in the confines of the old cruiser’s cabin before having to turn back. As he stood there, the anger and frustration visibly drained out of him and he gestured wearily with his arm. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry I blew up at you like that. I guess I’m just tired. It’s been a rough week.” He moved to the stove and fiddled with the draft. “No doubt you heard about Frey dying while you were gone.”
“Yes. My mother called me. She thinks the stress of being suspected or accused of the crime caused him to have that massive heart attack.”
“No doubt. That evil old bastard got off easy.”
“Too easy.” Libby desperately wanted to touch him. Wanted him to touch her. Being so close to him was making it increasingly difficult for her to breathe. “You look well, in spite of the fact that you’re still diving.”
“You mean, because of it,” he corrected.
“Salvage diving is dangerous work.”
“You’re
damn straight it is. I’ve nearly starved to death three times since starting up Alaska Salvage, and the business isn’t out of the red yet.” His wry, tough guy demeanor was as brash and arrogant as she remembered. “So. What happens to you now that you’re the official heiress of the Libby fortune? Do you plan on sticking around, or did you buy yourself a Hinkley yacht and an island off Hawaii to sail her to?”
“I told you I wasn’t changing my lifestyle, and I’m not,” Libby responded testily. “I’d give my mother the world but she doesn’t want it. The Libby Foundation is a good organization. They’ve asked me to serve on the board, and I’ve agreed. My first recommendation was that they turn Frey’s lodge into a summer camp for native children and set up some permanent medical clinics in the outlying villages. As for me, I’ve accepted a residency at the hospital here in Anchorage. I’m sticking around. There’s no place else I really want to be.”
A long silence stretched between them while Carson looked as if he was struggling to make sense of what she’d just said. Libby gestured to the bag on the table. “Are you hungry? I brought Chinese food, and a bottle of wine. I would have picked up some of your Talisker sipping whiskey, but…” She paused a moment, then took the plunge. “But I was in too much of a hurry to see you. The truth is, I’ve missed you.”
“Is that so.” His eyes narrowed and he rubbed the stubble on his chin. “How did you miss me? Was it in a fond way?”
Libby felt her cheeks flush. “You’ll never let me live that down, will you?”
“Most people feel a lot more than fond about their pet dogs,” he said.
Libby closed the distance between them. “I’m sorrier than you’ll ever know for using that word. The words I should have used were crazy about, and passionately in love with but I was too much of a coward. I’ve gotten braver since then. I’ve had a long time to think about how I would change that one moment between us, but right now I’m just wishing you’d kiss me, because for the past two months that’s all I’ve been thinking about. And I don’t want a fond kiss, like that last one you gave me,” Libby said, breathless and trembling before he even touched her. “I want passionate.”
Passionate, as defined by the American College Dictionary, included such descriptive words as vehement, emotional, strong, enthusiastic, compelling, sexual and sometimes violent. As Carson brought the definition to life in the many ways he kissed her, Libby felt the fire between them rekindle, and just when she thought he couldn’t fan her flames much higher without causing spontaneous combustion, he swept her off her feet, kicked open the door that led to his bedroom and paused before carrying her inside.
“For the past two months I’ve been thinking about doing a whole helluva lot more than just kissing you,” he warned, “and fond behavior never figured into any of my thoughts.”
“Good,” Libby said as her universe shifted oh, so perfectly into its proper place. “Make sure it never does.”
ISBN: 978-1-4592-2183-3
EVERYTHING TO PROVE
Copyright © 2006 by Penny R. Gray.
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Everything To Prove Page 26
