“Regular or decaf?”
“Well, damn…I don’t know. I’ll take regular and…make his a regular, too.”
“His?” Tiffany scrunched her face, her nose wrinkling with a grin. “Do you have a breakfast date?”
“Not even close.”
Tiffany left and Dana stared out the windows, waiting for Mark to appear.
Pedestrian traffic was quite heavy for this hour. The Royal Caribbean, Regent Seven Seas Mariner and Pacific Princess all had docked before eight o’clock this morning. Different languages could be heard through the cafe’s open door as people peeked inside the small restaurant to see what it was—as if it were some interesting must-visit place like the fudge shop. Some of the old people looked absolutely dense, eyes squinting and trying to figure out if the menu was worth their time away from the Tanzanite R Us jewelry stores.
Dana could only wonder what the town looked liked through the eyes of those who didn’t love it the way she did.
Ketchikan resembled an old shoe, its leather worn and in need of polish. The buildings could use a fresh coat of paint, the rooftops new shingles, and some asphalt poured into the downtown potholes. But its sole still had a lot of tread left, and these minor imperfections gave the port a soul to be proud of.
Those who called the city home embraced it for all that it was. A community for the arts, showcase for talented musicians, bagpipers, a symphony, great performances in plays and a chorus where anyone could apply. Locals endeared themselves to the ocean and its gentle swells. Most everyone had a sailboat to race in competitions.
While some traveled to warmer places during the winter, those who stayed enjoyed the town’s quiet beauty with the tourists gone. Dana loved the new vibrancy that filled the quaint restaurants, the handful of year-round shops and the empty harbor berths. People used the time to catch up with dear friends, and do normal daily routines they hadn’t been able to keep up with while taking ship passengers on paid trolley tours or working in kettle-corn booths.
Dana vaguely wondered what Mark Moretti had thought of her town when he’d arrived.
Coming in from the airport ferry, there was a lot of industry along the highway to the town’s center—rock quarries, canneries and a sawmill. The site where the old pulp mill stood now put on lumberjack shows. But when the season ended, no longer did the chainsaws buzz and crowds cheer at the Great Alaskan Lumberjack Show—its owners had returned to Wisconsin until next year.
The former salmon capital of the world, Ketchikan’s natural beauty was postcard perfect. A mountainous place with panoramic lush greenery. And love it or hate it—it was a cruise-ship port for thousands of tourists who put revenue into their economy.
On Front Street, also known as Jewelry Row, the Pioneer Café had evolved into something of a landmark where Dana had many memories to recall. For over thirty years, the Pioneer had withstood restaurant closures in a town where an eatery was lucky to be around after six months.
Its decor was pretty standard. Some basic tables and booths, a long counter where singles were encouraged to occupy a spot rather than take up an entire booth. Lighting the wall, a neon sign blinked Route 66—America’s Main Street. A person could get a decent meal for a decent price, and that included reindeer hot dogs, reindeer sausages and reindeer steaks.
Tiffany returned with two coffees and two waters, another menu and a happy smile. “I hardly see you anymore, Dana. What’ve you been up to?”
“Nothing much. Just working. How about you?”
“I have a boyfriend now. We should double-date.”
Softly smiling, Dana shook her head. “I don’t have anyone I’m interested in, Tiffany.”
“I could see if Ray knows of anyone your age.”
“I’m good.” Dana had to inwardly laugh over Tiffany’s effort. Nothing like nineteen and thinking the world was awesome with a boyfriend and a Saturday-night date at the Coliseum Twin Theatre.
When Tiffany went to retrieve an order, Dana resumed her view of the street outside, noting the people who passed by.
Within a few minutes, Mark appeared outside the door, a cell phone next to his ear. He seemed to be deep into a conversation, a very intent expression covering his face. Not yet noticing she sat in the restaurant, he carried on with his call.
She used the time to study him.
Against her better judgment, she admitted he was beyond the best-looking man she’d ever seen. It was just her luck to think this way about a lower-forty-eight man.
Here today, gone tomorrow.
She’d seen it a million times. Guys came to Alaska, fell in love with it, fell in love with her, stuck around a handful of weeks and moved on. To her credit, she’d never fallen for any of them. It had been difficult at times to completely ignore a nice-looking guy bent on getting her attention. She’d received lavish flowers, dinner invites, fudge—ugh. Mostly they flirted; many came to the bar every night they were in town. It got to be almost embarrassing when Leo or Walt would take bets on who’d come back the following night to try and wear her resistance down.
Sometimes it was mortifying to be a woman.
And to be different in a town where Caucasian women were the predominant ethnicity. The majority of Filipinos worked mostly at Wal-Mart, and of course clerks like Cardelle came to stay, but just for the summer.
There was only one of her. Maybe that’s why men found her so intriguing. God knew she didn’t lead any of them on by flirting back.
But as her gaze pored over Mark, she amended that thought. She could squeeze in time for lust. Just looking at the guy made her think of a dozen ways to kiss his mouth, to lean over him, push him back on a bed while she straddled his hips.
The most bone-shivering seductions began with clothing on, at least in her mind. Denim could hug a man’s butt and legs in a sexy way, and a T-shirt’s soft cotton knit stretching over his chest was wildly attractive.
Lowering her eyes, she noted that Mark favored a boot-cut jean that offered a tempting view. His lightweight black jacket had been left unzipped. The shirt underneath was knit, but not a T-shirt. The fabric looked softly worn, a charcoal color that didn’t stretch taut on his chest, but rather, loosely gloved his skin.
He’d shaved today; a smooth jaw and lower half of his face caught her attention. The hair at his neck brushed his jacket collar. Smoky-lensed sunglasses rode at the top of his head.
The easy smile that curved his lips captured her undivided attention. His mouth was sinful. She hated him for it. With a slight tilt of his head, a resonant laugh carried from his throat.
Who was he talking to? Why did he look like he was enjoying them so much?
Unexpected jealousy pricked and she didn’t like it one bit.
With a slight nod, Mark then disconnected the call, slipped the phone into his jacket pocket and entered the café.
Seeing her, he headed for the table.
“Have you been waiting long?” he asked, sliding into the chair opposite hers.
“Long enough to watch you talking to someone on the phone. Was it your girlfriend?” The words were out before she could take them back, and she chastised herself for the slip.
One arm halfway out of his jacket, Mark paused then laughed so loudly the couple at the next table looked their direction. “If I’d’ve known you cared, I would have brought you a Hallmark.”
Dana closed her eyes a moment, her displeasure solely caused by her juvenile question. As she refocused on Mark, she called upon every ounce of effort she had to maintain her composure.
He measured her with his gaze, a mixture of humor and intent in his rich brown eyes. “I was talking to my sister.”
He’d mentioned having a sister before.
Spying his coffee cup, he reached for the cream and added a splash. “She’s going to ship me my tools that I’ll need to do the job for you.”
Dana stared into the depths of her murky coffee, a myriad of thoughts in her head, with one prevailing.
Addressi
ng Mark, she put care and effort into her words lest he think her ungrateful. “You don’t have to do this. Lots of guys I meet in the bar seem to think that they have to impress me to get me to notice them.” With a hard swallow, she admitted, “I noticed you, okay? It’s kind of hard not to.”
The warmth in his smile melted her very center. “Dana, I’m doing it for me as much as I’m doing it for you.” He drank a little coffee, then said, “Back in Boise, I inherited the job of running our family’s construction company. I’ve worked for my dad my entire life, and probably would still be there if he hadn’t died a few years ago. He had a heart attack that threw us all off center. We counted on my father to be at Moretti Construction’s helm.”
She made no comment, but she wanted to confide in him that she, too, knew what it was like to lose a father unexpectedly.
“My sister and I partnered to get a big project completed, and we did. It just about burned me out to the point where I thought I might quit. But then my brother-in-law offered me a deal that would get me away from the trailer and into that cushy office you assumed I had.” Mark’s expression grew reflective. “I’m here to figure out if I could be that guy. It’s been so long since I built something because of a desire to do it rather than from a sense of obligation. I don’t know if that makes any sense to you.” He let out a long breath. “Hell, I’m not even sure I understand it myself.”
This time, she spoke from her heart. “I understand more than you could imagine.”
Tiffany arrived at the table, bubbly and cheerful. “Hi, have you had a chance to look at the menu?” While she talked, she gave the eye to Dana, as if to say—Wow, he’s cute.
Dana ignored the wink. “I’m not sure. Do you know what you want?” she asked Mark.
The question carried far too much weight, and she regretted her word choices as soon as they spilled from her mouth.
Mark’s gaze consumed her, a hidden meaning in the stillness of his eyes. “Four eggs—over medium, ham, white toast with grape jelly and extra butter.”
“Sure thing,” Tiffany said, snapping to attention. She clearly liked a customer who knew what they wanted and how.
“I’ll have the pancakes,” Dana replied, sliding her closed menu to Tiffany. “And some orange juice.”
Pocketing her order pad and taking the menus, Tiffany left them to their interrupted discussion. Dana was glad it had been interrupted; she had felt herself getting too personal.
“You must order the same breakfast a lot,” Dana commented.
“I know what I like.”
The implication of his reply spoke volumes above what he’d actually said. There was no denying he could affect her with innuendo, and it galled her to distraction.
From the stereo on a shelf near the register, Brian Hyland sang “Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini.”
“So,” she said after several long seconds, “what do you have for me?”
He quirked his mouth into a sassy smile. “I’ve got plenty for you. What do you want to have first?”
On an annoyed gasp, she replied, “Why is it you turn around what I say to you and make it seem base?”
“Not my intention, sunshine. Must be you thinking naughty thoughts in your head.”
Keeping herself in check, she forced an evenness to her tone. “Right now I’m thinking meeting you for breakfast was a mistake. At this point, I would have accepted a brick of fudge.”
“You like fudge?”
He had no clue as to why she’d even suggested the candy, but in true Mark form, he ran with it anyway. The guy could rally even the worst comeback and leave her sputtering.
“No, but I like it better than you.”
“Well, you can’t kiss a Milky Way and tell it to quit hogging the covers.”
Her blood heated to a frustrating degree. Dana would have stood and gotten out of the café had Tiffany not poured warm-ups for their coffees—and with goofy eyes for Mark and that sly wink again for Dana.
Mark reached over the table, laid a calming hand over hers, and she felt as if her skin burned with the contact. Not because she didn’t like the masculine touch of his fingers, but because she did. Too much for her own good.
“I’ll stop messing with you,” he said, his deep voice sincere. “It’s just that your eyes shine real pretty when you get aggravated.”
“No, they don’t.”
“Yeah, they do.”
To her immediate relief, he moved his hand and leaned back. For a brief moment, she acknowledged that it had been pleasant having him touch her. If his hand felt this nice, what would his mouth do to her?
She staved off a shiver.
Thankfully Mark produced a small spiral notebook from his jacket, and he opened it to discuss the notations he’d made from the violation reports she’d given him. He’d written pages and pages of ideas, suggestions and ways to go about bringing things to code.
“So if you add a door here, you’re going to have to widen that hallway.” He pointed to a rough sketch he’d made. “But it’s better to do it before your reinspection. Those guys tell you to do one thing, and they don’t mention that when you do, you create a new situation.”
All she could manage was a nod, feeling completely at a loss over the extent of things.
“As for your second exit, I put in a call to a structural engineer I know to draw up a quick set of plans for the fire exit. I told him to make it good-looking, not just utility.”
“I don’t understand.”
Mark scribbled a rendition of her current patio. “We’ll have to build the exit here—see?”
She leaned forward and he turned the drawing so that it would face her as he continued to add to it.
“You’re going to need to come off this point, add steel girding, then bring it to the wharf. Thankfully you have that patio. Without it, you would have had to start from scratch.”
Everything seemed overwhelming to her. The changes would be drastic…and cost a lot.
Before they went any further, she had to confess, “I’ve got five thousand dollars that I can put toward the expenses. Beyond that, I’m tapped out right now.” Admitting her funds came up short gave her a humiliating, deflated feeling, but she had no choice other than to be up-front with him. “Can you bring the project in for less?”
“Honey, five grand won’t touch it.”
Her heart sank.
Mark laid his palms on the table in front of him. He eased his fingertips toward her, so close they lightly touched her knuckles where she’d knit her hands together. His contact sent an electrical jolt through her. “Don’t worry about the cost. I already told you I’d take care of it.”
Inching away from him, she replied, “I don’t want to owe you anything.”
“You won’t.”
“Yes, I will. More than five thousand.” Bruised pride left a bitter taste in her mouth, the despair hard to swallow. “How much, Mark?”
He studied her at length, as if contemplating whether or not to be truthful about it. “Forty—probably closer to fifty.”
“Thousand?” She gulped.
“It’s not nickels, sunshine.”
Smothering a groan, she almost wished he’d answered with a lie to placate her. She tried to regain her composure as the weight of his words settled in.
She hadn’t seen this moment coming. Certainly not from the first she’d laid eyes on Mark Moretti two weeks ago.
That night when he’d come into the bar, she’d noticed him long before his friend had gotten into a stupid fight. She’d been at the bar for some reason, unimportant now, and he’d entered the Blue Note with a tall presence that she hadn’t been able to ignore.
Right from the start, she’d been attracted to him, but denial had been easy to manipulate. She had grown to be an expert at it. She’d watched him for a long while, noticing the ease with which he moved, the way a smile fell naturally on his mouth. There’d been an envious pang that had filled her, something she’d lon
g since tried to forget.
So what had led to this moment now, them together and sitting across a table…and what had he proposed? She trusted few. Herself least of all. She’d made too many mistakes in the past. Would this be one of them?
If she didn’t let Mark make the repairs, she would lose the bar.
She had no other option.
Reaching into her jeans pocket, she produced a key. Setting it on the table, she slowly slid it toward Mark. His brow quirked with a curiosity she thought unfounded given what they’d been discussing. “You’ll need to have access to the bar,” she informed him.
With a lopsided smile, he said, “Shoot—I thought you were giving me a key to your place.”
She felt a frown work over her mouth, almost glad he’d been crass. Far easier to be annoyed by him than humbling herself.
“You wish,” she retorted, pinching the bridge of her nose to rid herself of the headache that seemed to slap her all at once. The dull throb made her lose what little appetite she’d had.
Of all the guys she didn’t want to be indebted to, Mark was on her short list. Applying pressure to her forehead, she gave him a heavy gaze. “If this is some elaborate plan to get me to—” She didn’t know how to finish the thought without visually spelling it out. Regrouping, she continued, “Look, if all you’re trying to do is hook up with me, then you’re going to a lot of trouble and expense—”
“Dana, for fifty grand, I could buy a whole lotta love.” For the first time since she’d given him crap about his motives, he got angry with her. Clearly insulted. “Trust me. I have no ulterior motives. I want to do this for me as much as you need it for you.” He raked his hair from his forehead. “And if I wanted to get you into bed, I could have talked you into it a long time ago.”
Conviction laced his voice, and the air between them snapped with tension. She wasn’t altogether sure he was wrong.
CHAPTER EIGHT
OSCAR’S DEATH had changed Suni. She saw beauty in things she’d taken for granted. She became more forgiving, more patient. Past scars were healed, hard feelings forgotten. She recognized that life could be taken, breaths ceased. Live for today.
All That You Are Page 10
