Alaska Home

by Debbie Macomber

  “I wasn’t thinking of a business dinner,” Christian said matter-of-factly. “I’m going to be seeing a...friend while I’m in town. A good friend.”

  A few minutes later, Mariah was on the phone with the airline when she happened to overhear the two brothers talking.

  “A friend?” Sawyer asked.

  “Yeah, Allison Reynolds.” Even from across the room, she saw Christian’s eyes brighten with what could only be described as excitement. “You might remember her,” he added.

  Mariah felt as if she’d been slapped. No one needed to tell her who Allison Reynolds was—the secretary Mariah had replaced.

  “You’re going to be seeing Allison?” Sawyer asked, lowering his voice, obviously afraid Mariah would hear. Well, it was too late; she’d already heard.

  “Yeah,” Christian murmured, preoccupied with a fax. “I talked to her the other night and promised to call her back as soon as I knew when I’d be arriving. I’m hoping I’ll convince her to give Hard Luck a second chance.”

  Sawyer held on to his pencil with both hands and darted a look toward Mariah. “Do you think that’s wise?”

  “Why isn’t it?” Christian asked, his voice equally low. He set aside the fax and confronted his brother openly. “She’s beautiful, witty, charming and we’d be fortunate to have her. Let’s talk about this later, all right?”

  Sawyer frowned.

  Mariah couldn’t believe her ears. Christian actually planned on luring her replacement to Hard Luck. Furthermore, he expected her to make the arrangements!

  * * *

  “Mom, should I pack my Barbie playhouse?” Susan called from her bedroom.

  Abbey took the towel from the dryer, folded it and set it on the washer. “No, sweetheart. You can only take one suitcase each. You won’t have room for all your Barbie things.”

  “You know my mother’s going to spoil those kids, don’t you?” Sawyer said, leaning against the laundry-room door.

  “I know. Scott and Susan will be impossible to live with by the time they return.”

  “But we’ll have an entire week to ourselves.” Sawyer waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “I sincerely hope you intend to spoil me next week.”

  Abbey kissed her husband and nuzzled her nose against his. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Sawyer’s eyes gleamed. “Barbie and Ken will play while the kids are away.”

  “Sawyer!”

  Her husband chuckled and slid his arms around her waist. “It’s too bad Christian will be gone, too, because that means I won’t be able to get away much myself.”

  “We’ll manage,” Abbey assured him.

  “A second honeymoon,” Sawyer murmured, grinning provocatively. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this. I still haven’t recovered from the first one.”

  “You seem to have done pretty well for yourself!”

  “Mom, Dad, you’ll remember to feed Eagle Catcher, won’t you?” Scott asked, poking his head into the laundry room.

  Her son seemed genuinely concerned, as if he wasn’t sure he should trust them with his much-loved friend, even if it was only for ten days. And even if he’d once been Sawyer’s dog.

  “We’ll remember,” she said.

  “It’s important, Mom,” Scott insisted. “This is just the second time we’ve been separated, and Eagle Catcher might worry. I had a long talk with him, but I’m not sure he understood.”

  “I promise we’ll remember,” Sawyer told him solemnly.

  “Good.” Scott looked relieved and disappeared.

  Sawyer gently patted Abbey’s protruding stomach. “This time alone will be good for us,” he told her, his eyes serious. “After the baby arrives, everything will change.”

  Abbey knew her husband was right, but it would be a wonderful kind of change. So far the pregnancy had caused her almost no trouble, physically or emotionally. No morning sickness, no drastic mood swings. She loved Scott and Susan with a ferocity only a mother could understand, but their pregnancies had drained her. It was different with Sawyer’s baby. The comfort of his love, the assurance that he’d move heaven and earth on her behalf, eased her worries.

  “Mom!” Susan screeched from the hallway. “Should I pack my Bible?”

  Abbey sighed and pressed her forehead against Sawyer’s shoulder. “I’d better go supervise those two.” She called to the kids that she’d be there in a minute.

  “I’ll finish up here,” Sawyer said, gathering the rest of the towels from the dryer.

  “Sawyer.”

  When he turned around, she leaned forward and kissed him with a hunger they generally reserved for the bedroom.

  A low rumble of arousal came from her husband as she started to leave. Sawyer caught her hand. “What was that all about?”

  She offered him a saucy smile. “Just a sample of what’s available later.”

  “How much later?”

  Abbey smiled again and stroked his face. “As soon as the kids are gone, you and I can pick up where that left off.” She walked out of the laundry room, but not before she noticed Sawyer staring at his watch, calculating the hours before they’d be alone.

  * * *

  Allison Reynolds was as beautiful as Christian remembered. Even more so. Heads turned when they walked into the five-star restaurant. He’d never realized how much a beautiful woman could improve a man’s image and raise his self-esteem. He had no doubt that he was the envy of every man there. Any vague, nagging thoughts about superficial values or shallow choices were easy enough to suppress.

  He hadn’t been in the Seattle hotel five minutes before he made a point of phoning Allison. He’d made another phone call, too, but this one was to Hard Luck. He’d had to call Mariah regarding a variety of subjects, all of them business-related.

  It might have been his imagination, but her greeting had seemed decidedly cool. He wasn’t sure what to make of her chilly tone, but whatever the problem, Sawyer could handle it. As for him, he was taking a well-deserved break from the office. He was willing to admit privately that his business dealings in Seattle, however necessary, were a pretext; his primary reason for coming here had to do with the beauty on his arm.

  “I have a reservation for seven o’clock,” Christian informed the maître d’.

  Allison smiled up at him sweetly, and it was all he could do to pull his gaze away. He’d been mildly surprised by her dress; short and slinky, it revealed every curve of her luscious body. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. But the front was deeply cut, and that appeared to bring her a lot of unwanted attention—unwanted, at least, by him. He was the one buying her dinner, and he wasn’t all that pleased to be sharing her, even vicariously, with anyone else.

  “This way,” the man said, tucking two menus under his arm. The restaurant had been one of Mariah’s recommendations, and she’d chosen well. He’d have to thank her when he returned. The dim interior suited him perfectly. Lights from the waterfront shimmered on the glass-smooth surface of Elliott Bay. A ferry sailed in the distance, its lights blazing.

  “This place is great,” Allison said once they were seated.

  “My secretary chose it.” He had to stop himself from telling Allison about Mariah. The stories would have them both in stitches, but he didn’t want to spend the evening thinking about Mariah. Although her lack of friendliness earlier today continued to nag at him...

  Allison leaned forward. “I’m so glad you found someone else to work for you. Personally I can’t imagine anyone lasting more than a day or two in that desolation.”

  Desolation. The Arctic? Hard Luck? Why, it was one of the most beautiful places on earth! Give him home any day of the week over the smog and traffic of the big city. Even a city as pleasing to the eye as Seattle. The noise alone had kept him awake most of the night. Street s
ounds had reverberated from the cluttered avenues and echoed against the skyscrapers. And in his expensive hotel, he’d heard the elevator and laughter in the halls and the TV next door. No wonder he felt suddenly tired and let down.

  Christian roused himself. “What would you like?” he asked, studying the menu. He made his choice quickly. Blackened salmon, one of his favorites.

  Allison’s huge blue eyes met his. “I’m watching my diet, you know.”

  She seemed to be waiting for him to tell her she was perfect as she was and that dieting would be ridiculous. Christian didn’t. He’d never understood what it was about women and their weight. They seemed to feel it was a topic men found fascinating. Well, he, for one, found it boring. Nor did he think someone like Allison needed to fish for compliments.

  “I’ll have a salad,” she said sweetly. “No dressing. You’d never guess how many grams of fat there are in salad dressing. Someone told me just the other day that it would be less fattening to eat a hot fudge sundae than to put dressing on lettuce. Can you imagine?”

  Christian smiled benignly.

  The waiter came for their order, and Allison took five minutes to give hers. She explained precisely how she wanted her salad. He’d never met a woman who requested sliced cucumbers on the side. And that wasn’t all—she had to have her radishes cut a certain way and only on one half of the salad. He was impressed that the waiter could write it all down and keep a straight face.

  While Allison was giving her detailed instructions, the memory of his dinner with Mariah at the Sourdough Café came to mind. There’d been no talk of salad ingredients with her. Nor did she drag him into ridiculous conversations about grams of fat and hot fudge sundaes.

  Unfortunately the dinner conversation didn’t improve. Allison discussed the color of her fingernail polish in great detail. When Christian introduced another topic, she found a way of immediately bringing it back to herself and telling him about a new skin cream on the market.

  It became something of a game, watching her manipulate the conversation to reflect her own interests—such as they were. Not once did she ask about the people she’d met on her brief trip to Hard Luck.

  “Oh, I’ve got a new job now,” she said casually when he mentioned her old one. “Actually this is the second job I’ve had in the past year.”

  Christian nodded in seeming interest, and she went on, “When I met you I was working for Pierce. He was a friend of my old boyfriend, Cary. But after I got back from Hawaii and went to see you, Pierce said he needed someone he could depend on. He didn’t like me taking vacation time.” She pursed her lips slightly. “He didn’t even pay me for my days off.”

  “How long did you work for Pierce?”

  “About a month.”

  “A month. You didn’t have any vacation time due you.”

  “That’s what Pierce said. Only he sounded really mad. You know, some men aren’t very nice. I worked for him one full month and his benefits were lousy.”

  Christian found it difficult to follow Allison’s conversation from that point forward. Several times she brought up names he didn’t know and didn’t care to know. Instead, his thoughts drifted to the year before, when he’d first met Allison. It astonished him that he hadn’t seen through her then. The woman wasn’t interested in working; she was looking for “benefits,” and it seemed to him she wasn’t just talking about paid holidays. She wanted a free ride.

  When at last they’d finished their meal and were walking out of the restaurant, Christian was once again aware of several envious stares. Only this time it didn’t raise his self-esteem. Sure, he’d enjoyed his blackened salmon, and the Washington-made wine had been some of the best he’d tasted, but he’d rather have eaten at Ben’s or the Sourdough Café. As for his dinner companion—the truth was, he’d become disenchanted.

  Later, when he dropped Allison off in front of her apartment, she flexed her long nails over his thigh. “Would you like to come up for a nightcap?” she asked. Her beautiful eyes invited him for more.

  “Not tonight.”

  He helped her out of the car and walked her to her door.

  “When will I see you again?” Her voice rolled from her lips like silk.

  Christian had made the mistake of letting her know his schedule. “I’ll call you,” he said.

  She gave him a hurt-little-girl pout. Her eyes rounded with a practiced look of disappointment. “You will phone me, won’t you, Chris? I’d be so unhappy if you didn’t.”

  Christian couldn’t get away fast enough. They’d be raising huskies in hell before he’d agree to spend a second evening with the likes of Allison Reynolds.

  After returning to his hotel room, Christian sat on the edge of the bed. It was hard to believe he’d been so blinded by her earlier. Because he was restless and angry, he reached for the phone and dialed Sawyer’s home number.

  “Hello,” Sawyer answered impatiently.

  “It’s me.”

  “Christian? What’s wrong? You don’t sound like yourself.”

  “I’m fine,” he said, then wondered if that was true. Rarely had he felt so disappointed, so disillusioned, but he couldn’t entirely blame his dinner date. His own willful blindness had something to do with it. “You remember Allison, don’t you?”

  “Of course I remember her. Listen, if you’re calling to sing her praises, you’ve caught me at an inopportune moment. You seem to have forgotten that Abbey and I are having our second honeymoon. She’s decided to re-create the night we attended the luau. Grass skirt, leis, the whole deal. D’you mind if we talk about the sex goddess another time?”

  “Trust me, Allison is no goddess.”

  “Not you, honey,” Christian heard his brother explain to Abbey. “I was talking about another sex goddess. One far less gorgeous than you.”

  “I’ll talk to you when I get home,” Christian said. Chuckling to himself, he replaced the receiver.

  A year ago, he’d been completely wrapped up in Allison. He wasn’t sure who’d changed in the past twelve months. Allison or him? But she wasn’t at all how he’d remembered her.

  A year ago, Christian had been thrilled when Allison had agreed, after some fast talking on his part, to give Hard Luck a try. Unfortunately, because of business commitments, he’d been unable to greet her personally when she arrived.

  For an entire year he’d believed someone had said or done something to offend her. When he discovered she’d returned to Seattle after only one night in Hard Luck, he’d been furious. Not that there was anything he could do while he was on the road. He’d made one feeble attempt to contact her, but because he was busy with other things, he’d dropped the matter.

  For twelve long months, he’d been convinced the people of Hard Luck had been at fault. The other women were jealous of Allison’s natural beauty and had gone out of their way to make her feel unwanted. The list of possibilities had mounted—but there’d only been one reason Allison had left. A reason he hadn’t seen until that very evening.

  A vain, selfish woman wouldn’t last more than a day in a town like Hard Luck. Allison had said it herself, although she’d meant something very different. And a day was exactly how long she’d stayed.

  * * *

  Mariah thought she’d never been this miserable. There wasn’t enough deep-dish pizza in the world to get her through the night, but that didn’t keep her away from the Hard Luck Café.

  Christian was in Seattle dining with the beautiful, sophisticated Allison Reynolds. He didn’t think she knew, but she did, and that made everything worse.

  Although she’d never met her, Mariah had heard everything she needed to know from the few women who remembered Allison’s brief visit.

  Right that moment, Christian and Allison were at a waterfront restaurant rated as one of the country’s top ten. Mariah didn’t wa
nt to consider what they’d do after dinner. Dancing. Stargazing. Kissing. The image of another woman in Christian’s arms was just too painful to contemplate. Nor did she care to dwell on how his relationship with Allison would affect her position with Midnight Sons.

  She knew that Christian would do practically anything to get Allison back in Hard Luck.

  Allison was a secretary. And so was she.

  Given the choice, Christian would pick Allison over her any day of the week. And she figured that, to keep the peace, Sawyer would ultimately agree to letting her go in favor of Allison.

  “What can I do for you?” Ben asked.

  Mariah sat at the table closest to the counter. “Do you have any pizza left?”

  “The one with four kinds of cheese and all the extras?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “I suspect I’ve got a couple tucked away in the freezer,” he told her. “I generally don’t bake them unless I have a special request.”

  “Would you be willing to consider this a special request?” Mariah asked. “It’s a food emergency.”

  “A food emergency,” Ben repeated, grinning. “Hey, I like that.” He raised his hand and read the imaginary words, pointing one finger as he spoke. “Hard Luck Café, specializing in food emergencies.” Then the amusement left his eyes, and he muttered, “It might go over better than my frequent-eater program.”

  “Could you feed me the pizza intravenously?” she joked, but it was a struggle.

  Ben pulled out a chair and sat down next to her. “What’s the problem, kiddo?”

  Mariah knew that a lot of the men in town talked to Ben; he was a good sounding board and a faithful friend. She liked and trusted him, but she wasn’t comfortable talking about the situation between her and Christian. It didn’t seem fair to unburden her soul to a friend of the O’Hallorans.

  “I don’t have anything one of your pizzas won’t cure,” she assured him.

  “Coming right up.” Ben stood and patted her affectionately on the shoulder. “You want anything to go with that?”