by Carol Grace
"You remember," she said, sounding surprised and pleased.
I remember everything that happened there, everything about you, he wanted to say, but he didn't.
"Who is there?" he asked. Might as well get it over with.
"Jack. Jack Larue from the Yukon."
He ground his teeth together. Still there, after three days? Well, what did he expect? Maybe he could change the subject, now before he heard any more disturbing news. But he was gripped with an insatiable curiosity. "Really?" he asked.
"Really. He didn't get married, after all. It fell through. You could have knocked me for a loop," she said with a little giggle.
"Me, too," he said grimly. "Is he, uh, staying with you?"
"Yes, in Laurie's room. I've been completely booked, you know, thanks to you."
"What do you think of him?" Adam asked, holding his breath.
''Um, what? Just a minute. Jack just woke up. I'd better get him some breakfast. Nice to hear from you, Adam."
"Nice to hear from you, too," he muttered after he'd hung up. What was going on there? Couldn't she have told him what she thought of Jack before she'd hung up? Not that it mattered. Objectively he'd have to say that Jack was a decent, good-looking guy with a million dollars—the kind of guy any woman would fall for.
But was Mandy just any woman? Adam got no work done that day, thinking about that. He finally wait home and asked Elvis what he thought, but the bird was strangely noncommittal. The only advice he offered was not to step on his blue suede shoes.
"Elvis," Adam said, offering him a plum. "I know where you're coming from, but I've got to see them together before I leave. Then I can go to the North with peace of mind, knowing I've done the right thing. If I don't, I'll never know. I'll always wonder. So tomorrow I'll hang an out-to-lunch sign on the door and mosey on over to the Miramar Inn, as Jack would say. It won't take long. With my perception I'll know right away if they're right for each other. After all, I'm a scientist," he assured the colorful bird.
But the next day before he could even leave the house, Adam got a call from their installation in Saudi Arabia. There was an emergency and Adam had to go through the files and get on the phone. Afterward he threw a change of clothing in his leather overnight bag just in case, but it was five o'clock before he got away from the office.
On the way down the winding road, he prepared himself for the worst. He might not even go into the house. He might just look through the front window and if he saw them together he might just turn around and go home. After all, there was just so much a man could take.
But when he got there it was dark and Jack's red sports car was not out in front. There were two other cars parked there. Through the window he could see strangers drinking sherry and eating hors d'oeuvres. The house looked warm and inviting and Adam felt a tightening in his chest, a longing for the home he'd never had, the family he'd missed. If he leaned forward, he could even see Mandy's family pictures on the wall. But neither Mandy nor Jack was anywhere in sight.
Adam opened the front door without knocking. The guests greeted him warmly, mistaking him for a fellow guest, no doubt. He asked for Mandy, they pointed to the kitchen. He opened the kitchen door to find the room filled with smoke and every surface covered with pots and pans. In the middle of the room Mandy was standing with a cleaver in her hand and an apron wrapped around her body. Her nose was red, tears were running down her face, and she looked absolutely beautiful.
In two seconds he'd crossed the room and stopped just short of crushing her to him and kissing away her tears. "What’s wrong?" he asked hoarsely.
She looked up and gave him a watery smile. "Nothing," she said, "it's the onions. What are you doing here?"
He blanked out. His mind reeled. To say he was just in the neighborhood wouldn't be believable, and he couldn't say he was there to see Jack without admitting he knew him.
"Never mind," she said, wiping her eyes with the corner of her apron. "I'm trying to make that chicken dish you fixed. But I keep messing up. I should have paid more attention. The night when you, the night when I..." she trailed off.
He knew what she was going to say, the night when he'd kissed her, the night they'd eaten by candlelight. "I thought you didn't do dinners."
"I don't want to. But sometimes I have no choice. And I realize I've got to expand. I can't afford to turn anyone down. I thought I could make it, but so far all I've made is a mess." She paused and wiped a tear of frustration from her eye. "I'm glad to see you," she said softly. "Can you stay for dinner?" Then she looked around the kitchen and hiccupped loudly.
"You mean, can I stay to make dinner?"
She put her cleaver down and laid her hands on his shoulders. "I can't let you do that. Not again. Just sit down and keep me company. Keep me from going crazy."
"How many guests do you have?" he asked, picking up the cleaver and slicing an onion with a swift stroke.
"Four. Five, actually, counting Jack."
"Jack? Is he still here?"
She nodded, measuring rice into a cup.
"Where is he? Why isn't he helping you?"
She turned the stove on. "He's a guest," she explained patiently. "I sent him to the Seadrift for dinner."
Adam heated some oil in a pan. "Good. He'll like it."
"How do you know?"
"Just a feeling. How do you like him?"
"He's fine." She looked up at Adam for a moment. "I thought he'd be more like you," she said reflectively, her gaze lingering on the angle of his jaw, the way his hair slanted across his forehead.
"It must have been a pleasant surprise to find he wasn't," Adam said, throwing the onions into the pan.
Mandy laughed and he grinned at her. Their eyes locked and held, and Adam's grin faded. Mandy felt a pressure building inside her, a tingling in every nerve end. Adam filling the room with positive ions, filling her with a longing she couldn't deny. Her heartbeat accelerated every time he brushed by her on his way to the counter, every time he touched her hand when they traded utensils. He was everywhere, in the pantry, behind the stove, and he was bigger than she remembered, better-looking, more irresistible, more everything.
With Adam here she almost forgot about Jack. Adam lifted a spoonful of sauce for her to taste and she met his gaze as the rich, thick sauce touched her lips. For a long moment she couldn't move, couldn't swallow, couldn't think, could only feel the earth shake and the sky rumble.
But there was no earthquake and no storm. There was only Adam. And that was enough.
"Well?" he asked.
"Wonderful." She sighed. "How do you do it?"
"You inspire me," he said, his eyes brimming with some emotion she couldn't understand.
She backed to the sink to rinse the lettuce. "I've missed you," she confessed, spraying water all over her apron.
"Even with Jack here?" he asked.
She bit her lower lip. "Even with Jack here," she confessed. If only Adam were more like Jack, or Jack more like Adam.
"Maybe you expected too much of him," Adam suggested.
She nodded. "I thought I knew him so well from his letters. But I feel like I don't know him at all. It’s funny. Well, he'll be back soon and you can tell me what you think of him."
He turned back to the stove. "I might not have time to hang around. I've got to get back. Elvis hates to be alone too long."
"That's too bad. You two have a lot in common."
"Me and Elvis? Thanks."
She smiled and shook the excess moisture off the lettuce. "Jack wants to meet you," she said.
"I'll bet," Adam muttered. "Maybe some other day. Is he still looking for a wife?"
Mandy felt a flush creep up her face. "I don't know."
He turned to face her. "He could be the right person for you."
"I don't think so," she said softly.
"Why not?" He outlined the edge of her apron with his fingers, burning a trail along the top then the sides of her breasts.
She he
ld perfectly still, while the meat sizzled in the pan behind her. She was aching to have him hold her, to feel his body against has. She should be watching the pot, but it might be the last time, the last time she saw him, the last kiss. She tilted her head and his lips met hers, warm, firm and demanding. She was flooded with desire, a pounding need she couldn't explain or deny.
His fingers fumbled with her apron ties, the apron fell to the floor. His hands spanned her ribs and cupped the warm fullness of her breasts through her soft cotton shirt.
She was on fire. She wanted nothing more than to tear off her clothes and his, too, to lead him to her room and let the world go on without than. But she couldn't. There were guests and dinner. She broke away. She was breathing hard and so was he. He stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head.
"I'll serve the salad," she said.
"Wait." He turned her around by the shoulders so her back was to him. Then he swiped the apron from the floor and tied it around her waist. Next he lifted the curls that brushed her shoulders and kissed the back of her neck. The scent of her hair brought back memories and all be wanted was to carry her up to the bedroom where he'd once slept, where she'd served him breakfast in bed, and make love to her all night long while the waves pounded the shore below and the salt air drifted in the windows.
But there was someone else in that room now. He'd missed his chance. It was gone, over, done with. He'd had his opportunity, before Jack, before his boss had claimed him, and he'd blown it. He watched her go into the dining room and he was filled with an unbearable sadness, as if he might never see her again, even though he knew she'd be back in a moment. He shouldn't have come. He couldn't handle these ups and downs anymore.
But somehow be got through the dinner. When it was over and the dishes were done, Mandy collapsed on the couch in the living room and Adam stood at the front door. If he left now, he might miss Jack. But if he left now, he'd have to say goodbye to Mandy forever. He gripped the door handle and someone turned it from the outside.
Jack walked in the door and stared openmouthed at Adam. Adam grabbed his hand and shook it. "You must be Jack," he said loudly, with a meaningful edge to his voice.
Jack nodded, then looked at Mandy. "Friend of yours?" he asked.
Mandy nodded. "Jack, this is Adam. You two have a lot in common."
"More than you know," Jack muttered.
"I was just leaving," Adam said.
"So soon?" Jack asked, holding the door open for him.
Adam's eyes narrowed. It made sense to leave now. But seeing Mandy ensconced on the couch, her gaze drifting between himself and Jack, he couldn't do it. Not until he got some sense of what, if anything, was going on.
"Don't go," Mandy said, and that cinched it. He closed the front door and leaned back against it. Jack took the chair next to the fireplace and stretched his legs out in front of him. He looked so comfortable Adam wanted to strangle him.
"Right," Jack said with a grin. "Don't go. Not yet. What brings you over this way?"
"Adam actually cooked the dinner tonight," Mandy explained.
"Really? I'll bet he's a good cook. I'll bet he's just about the best chef in the Arctic Circle."
"That's right!" Mandy agreed. "How did you know?"
"It's a small world. I've heard of him." He turned to Adam. "What did you say you were doing here?"
"Just checking in on Mandy, making sure she's all right."
"She looks all right to me," Jack said. "In fact, she looks just about perfect." Jack shot Mandy an appreciative glance that Adam didn't appreciate at all. In fact, it made him feel sick.
"If you two will excuse me," Mandy said suddenly, rising from the couch, "I'm going to bed. It’s been a long day and I'll leave you to reminisce about the Yukon. Help yourselves to some sherry." And with a polite smile she went down the hall to her bedroom.
Adam stared after her, realizing he hadn't said goodbye, knowing he'd never say goodbye now.
Jack brought him back to reality. "At the risk of sounding repetitious, what are you doing here, old buddy?"
"I told you," Adam said. "I came to check up on Mandy."
"Mandy's fine. I could have told you that."
"She wasn't fine when I got here. She was overwhelmed and overworked. Where were you when she needed somebody?" Adam stalked to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of sherry.
Jack studied his friend for a long moment. "You really like her, don't you?"
"Of course I like her, don't you?" Adam demanded. "Because if you don't, tell her now. I don't want her hurt again."
"You don't want her hurt? What are you, her guardian angel?"
"I'm her friend, that's all."
"I don't think that’s all," Jack said. "And isn't it about time to tell her the truth?"
Adam sat on the arm of the couch. "The truth, from the beginning? How you lied about being a millionaire, how I wrote the letters, how I came down here to spy on her? Are you crazy?" he demanded in a loud whisper.
"Maybe," Jack admitted, "but what’s the alternative?"
"The alternative," Adam said, draining his glass, "is for you to marry Mandy and live happily ever after. She doesn't need to know how it really happened. She just needs someone to love her, to help her, to give her back the confidence she lost when she got dumped the last time."
Jack angled his head for a different view of his friend. "I don't see it that way. I see her as a woman who's got love to give, who can give a man the confidence he needs. I see her as the woman I described in my ad, warm, sensuous, understanding, with good math skills to boot."
"Of course. I know that."
"Then quit trying to protect her. She's not a charity case. She'll find someone without you helping her."
"Who, you?"
"I don't think so."
Adam jumped to his feet. "Why not? What's wrong with her? What’s wrong with you?"
"I don't know what’s wrong with me, but I know what’s wrong with her, she's in love with someone else."
"There is no one else," Adam insisted.
Jack shook his head wearily. "Okay, okay. I admit I don't know anything about love and marriage. If I did, I'd be happily married by now. But I know one thing, you can't have a relationship based on lies. So if you don't tell Mandy the truth, I will."
Adam's heart pounded. "You can't. You won't."
"I can. I will," Jack said. "Unless you do."
Adam forced himself to stand straight, to give the blood a chance to return to his heart and circulate through his body. He couldn't do it, couldn't tell her, couldn't stand to hurt her. But he couldn't stand to have Jack tell her, either.
"Okay," he said at last. "I'll tell her, and then you can ask her to marry you."
"I already did."
Adam staggered backward and narrowly missed crashing into the coffee table. "What?"
"She turned me down."
"I don't believe you. You should have seen her face when she got your letter. She's in love with you."
"Guess not."
"When was this... proposal?"
"Last night. I took her to the Seadrift, plied her with food and wine, and then I asked her."
Adam sank into the cushions of the couch. "Are you saying she turned you down?"
"How do you think I feel? A few weeks ago I had a hundred prospects. Now I have none. Where did I go wrong? I've got a million dollars and no hang-ups like you do about the challenge of the Yukon or the dangers of marriage, nothing to prove. I'm free to live wherever I want. I love kids. I help old people across the street, and I'm sensitive and caring. The ultimate modern man. But does it do me any good? Has it got me a wife?"
Jack hunkered down into the depths of the big, stuffed chair and dosed his eyes. For the first time that night Adam looked at his friend with sympathy. He'd been so immersed in his own misery, it hadn't occurred to him that Jack might be suffering, too. He felt like a self-centered jerk. If Jack was a man for today, then Adam was stuck in the sev
enties, the selfish, me generation.
"I'm sorry," Adam muttered.
Jack waved his hand in dismissal. "No hard feelings. But before you go, I've got something for you."
Adam followed him out the front door to the red sports car. Jack reached into the back seat and handed him a cardboard box.
"What's this?"
"Mandy's letters. You wrote to her. They're yours now."
"But I don't... I'm not..."
Jack didn't let him continue. He shook hands with Adam and then he went back inside the house without another word. Adam stood in front of the house for a long time, listening to the sound of the sea in the distance, holding the box of letters in his hands until his fingers were numb. Then he drove home to the big house with the noisy, cantankerous bird, wishing he'd never written to Mandy. He wished he had never answered a single letter so Jack would have answered them.
Life was so simple before she'd come into his life, so simple and so empty. Maybe she felt the same way about him. Maybe she wished he'd never come into her life, either. If she didn't now, she would as soon as she heard the truth. When would that be? It had to be soon, but he wasn't looking forward to it.
Chapter Nine
Laurie Clayton stood in the middle of the kitchen floor with her hands on her slim hips.
"You did what?" she asked her sister, who was removing a tray of blueberry muffins from the oven.
"I turned him down," Mandy said calmly.
"An honest-to-goodness millionaire, whom you've come to know and respect through countless letters, appears in person and asks you to marry him and you turn him down?" Her normally well-modulated voice was dangerously close to a shriek. "What was wrong with him?"
"Nothing. I just don't love him."
"You don't love him. How could you tell? He was only here a few days. Besides, marrying for love is vastly overrated. There are no guarantees that love will last. But a million dollars lasts a long time if you invest it properly. Did you give the poor guy a chance?"
"I think so. Sit down and try one of these."
"I can't. I'm too upset. Let me get this straight. There are two men in your life, right? And they're both from the Yukon."
