“Uh, how’s she doing?” Christian cut the sourdough hotcakes with his fork.
“I hear she’s staying at the lodge.”
Christian nodded; he’d already learned that much.
“With her hands all bandaged up, she can’t work. She felt real bad about that,” Ben said, “but I’ve been running this café on my own close to twenty years now. I told her I could manage for however long it takes her hands to heal.”
“Was she badly burned?”
“Nah. Dotty seems to think she’ll be good as new in a week or so.”
Christian was relieved to hear it.
“I understand you single-handedly riled every woman in town.” Ben chuckled as he walked to the other end of the counter, where Duke and Ralph were finishing breakfast, and refreshed their coffee.
“So it seems,” Christian muttered. He wasn’t proud of his outburst, but he’d been so furious with Mariah that he couldn’t have suppressed the words if he’d tried. At the time, he’d meant every one. He’d never been more frightened in his life. Only last night, he’d awakened in a cold sweat, trembling. He’d dreamed about the fire, that he’d gone into the house and hadn’t been able to find her. For a long time after he woke, his heart continued to race. There was no point in trying to sleep again, so before dawn, he’d dressed and gone to the burned-out cabin. He’d stood there until the sun rose, giving incoherent thanks that Mariah had been spared. “She’s safe.” He’d repeated it over and over—but couldn’t quite forget that she’d almost died.
“What are you going to do now?” Ben asked.
“What can I do? Apologize, I guess,” Christian muttered. He glanced over at the two pilots, feeling like a fool. As it was, his own brother had no use for him. Sawyer had yet to forgive him for losing their secretary, and the situation hadn’t improved, since he hadn’t immediately hired another. Now, to make everything even worse, he seemed to be blaming Christian for the danger to Mariah, for letting her stay in the cabin. Letting her stay!
“Good.” Ben sighed as though the issue of Christian’s apology had been weighing heavily on his mind.
After paying his tab, Christian hurried to the office. Sawyer was busy on the phone and left him to deal with the pilots and their assignments for the day. The usual dissatisfaction broke out, but he dealt with it, if rather more ruthlessly than normal.
During a midmorning lull, Christian slipped out and walked over to the lodge to see Mariah. On the way, he formulated what he wanted to say. He was so intent on putting his apology together that he didn’t notice she was sitting on the front-porch swing.
“Karen and Matt are gone for the morning,” she announced as he began to climb the porch steps.
Christian paused, one foot on the ground and the other on the first stair. His gaze was immediately drawn to the bandages on her hands and then to the sadness in her eyes. The need to comfort her was strong, but he knew she didn’t want anything to do with him now. Personally he didn’t blame her.
Mariah’s hair was tied back, away from her face, and she wore a simple light green summer dress that suited her perfectly. He didn’t recognize it and wondered if one of the woman in town had lent it to her. No matter; she’d never looked lovelier.
“I didn’t come to see Karen or Matt,” he said, finishing the climb.
It was unseasonably warm for late August, despite some cool days the week before. The swing, a recent addition to the lodge, swayed gently in the breeze. He could hear birdsong in the distance. The sun splashed over her shoulders, glinting off her red hair, adding an aura of cheerfulness he knew was false.
He found it difficult to pull his gaze from hers. Her expression was blank, neither welcoming nor unwelcoming.
“I came to apologize for what I said,” he blurted. He might as well deal with the unpleasantness right away. “I didn’t mean it. The last thing I want you to do is leave Alaska.”
“But you wouldn’t object if I found my way out of Hard Luck.” Her voice was as dispassionate as her eyes.
“No, that’s not what I meant. I don’t want you to leave Hard Luck.” She was making this difficult, but then, he suspected he deserved it.
“Here.” He dug inside his pocket and fished out her jade bear. It had taken no small effort to find the figurine in the charred rubble, and unfortunately he’d been unable to recover her purse. He’d spent hours yesterday morning, once the sun had risen, sifting through the ashes and debris.
Mariah’s eyes lit up. “You found my bear!” It was the first emotion she’d shown. Her lower lip trembled, and he realized she was struggling to hold back tears. She gripped the figurine tightly. “Thank you, Christian.”
He shrugged, making light of the accomplishment. “It was nothing.”
Her beautiful brown eyes held his. Annoyed, Christian looked away. Not because he didn’t find her attractive—he did, more so each time he saw her—but because she reminded him of what he’d been trying to forget ever since he’d kissed her. He didn’t want to see her eyes like this, wide and beguiling. He couldn’t resist their luminous beauty or her enticing mouth or soft, pale skin. If he looked at her, he’d want to kiss her again.
He remembered when Charles had first learned about Lanni’s relationship to Catherine Fletcher and how he’d avoided looking at her. But this was different, he told himself. This was Mariah, and his feelings toward her were crystal clear. She needed someone—an older-brother kind of someone—to help her. A friend to steer her in the right direction. Christian wasn’t like his brothers. No, sir. Charles and Sawyer wore their hearts on their sleeves. Not Christian. Sure, he’d kissed Mariah, but that had been a...a fluke.
Yet even now, after all this time, he could remember the way she’d felt, the way her mouth had tasted. He’d done everything he could to push that memory to the farthest reaches of his mind, but to no avail.
Maybe, just maybe, he was like his brothers, after all.
Without invitation he sat down on the swing next to her. It seemed important that she realize how sincere his apology was. “I’m sorry—I don’t know what came over me the night of the fire,” he muttered, knowing that was no excuse, but he had none better to offer. “It’s just that you could have died.” His jaw tightened as a surge of anger threatened to take control of him all over again. “If you decide you never want to speak to me because of the things I said, I wouldn’t blame you. But I’m hoping you won’t do that.”
He couldn’t believe exactly what he was hoping. The urge, the need to kiss her, was back. And it was more powerful than before.
“I understand, Christian.”
“You do?”
“All is forgiven.” She smiled, as if amused by the melodramatic words. “You were angry. Upset.”
His heart felt lighter. She smiled sweetly at him, and he noted once more that, while she didn’t possess the striking beauty of Allison Reynolds, Mariah’s loveliness went much deeper. Was so much more real.
He stared at her mouth, soft and moist. He recalled how her lips had melted beneath his and how...
He cleared his throat and glanced quickly away.
“Thank you for finding the jade piece for me.”
“It was the least I could do.” He shrugged, tried to grin, but his heart pounded like a lovelorn teenager’s.
“Mariah.” He whispered her name before he drew her into his arms. She seemed to understand what he was asking of her; she leaned toward him. Their mouths came together with an urgency he’d never experienced.
Christian’s breathing was labored. Their previous kisses had been tentative exchanges, brief encounters. Not this one.
A noise sounded in the background, and with great reluctance, Christian broke off the kiss. A truck barreled down the dirt road, leaving a trail of dust in its wake.
If he was going to kiss Mariah,
Christian decided, he didn’t want the entire town looking on.
“Ben misses you,” he whispered, hardly able to find his voice. He dared not dwell on how wonderful it was to kiss her, and how difficult it was to keep from kissing her again.
Mariah lowered her lashes and smiled. “I can’t imagine why. I’m an even worse waitress than I was a secretary.”
“That’s not true.” The irony of the situation didn’t escape him; here he was defending her, when only a few months—weeks!—earlier he’d been the one listing her shortcomings.
“Well, it’s a moot point now.” Her eyes dulled—with sadness, regret, worry, he wasn’t sure which.
“You’ll be back in no time.” What he hoped, though, was that she’d be back at Midnight Sons. Another truck sped past. Christian had no idea the road in front of the lodge was so busy. He checked his watch; Sawyer would be on his case if he stayed any longer. He thought of mentioning that he’d like her back in the office, but he didn’t want to rush her. And he didn’t want her thinking that kiss had anything to do with work. Besides, he’d already swallowed one serving of crow; he wasn’t eager to down another quite so soon. He’d ease into the topic, be sure she understood how much they missed her, how much he missed her....
“I have to go,” he said, hoping his voice conveyed his reluctance.
“I know. Thanks again for finding the bear for me and for stopping by.”
On impulse, he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to hers. It would’ve been easy to let the kiss develop into something more than a farewell gesture, but he forced himself to make it just that.
His step was almost jaunty as he hurried back to the office. When he walked in the door, Sawyer cast him a disgruntled look.
“What took you so long?” he snapped, but Christian assumed his brother didn’t actually expect him to answer.
He picked up his phone messages and sat down at his desk to return the calls. His hand was on the receiver when his brother spoke again.
“I hate to be a pest about this,” Sawyer muttered, “but when can we expect another secretary?”
“Soon.” He knew the minute he said the word that he’d used it one time too many.
“You’ve been saying that ever since Mariah left,” Sawyer said impatiently. “Either hire someone else, or I will.”
Christian didn’t take kindly to ultimatums. “Now listen here, Sawyer. I’ve put up with about as much of this as I’m going to.”
“You! Seems to me you haven’t done a thing to find Mariah’s replacement.” He glared at him from across the office. “I’m beginning to think you don’t intend to hire anyone else.”
“I don’t.”
Sawyer’s jaw fell open. “Why the heck not?”
“Because I’m going to convince Mariah to come back.”
“I already tried that,” Sawyer told him, sighing wearily.
“But I caused the problem, not you.”
Sawyer snorted. “You won’t hear me coming to your defense on that one.”
“I planned to say something to her this morning, but—”
“So that’s where you were!” Sawyer’s look revealed his curiosity.
“Yeah. I apologized and she accepted my apology.” He paused. “Ben reminded me about the Labor Day dance, and I think I’ll ask Mariah. You know, get back into her good graces.” He had an ulterior motive, as well. From now on, Christian wanted every man in town to stay away from her. By escorting her to the dance he was sending a silent message. Mariah was off-limits. Out-of-bounds.
Sawyer brightened. “Ask Mariah to the dance—now that’s a great idea. Wine and dine her. Women like that sort of thing.”
“I thought so, too.” Christian felt downright smug. Everything was falling neatly into place, just the way it should.
Before long Mariah would be back at Midnight Sons.
Christian didn’t want to appear too anxious, so he waited until the following evening to pay Mariah a second visit. He toyed with the idea of bringing her a small gift. Easier said than done. He surveyed the office and saw the latest issue of Aviation News on Sawyer’s desk. He tucked it under his arm, thinking she’d enjoy reading it. Maybe it would remind her of everything she’d liked about Midnight Sons, get her back in the mood.
Humming cheerfully to himself, he strolled down the hard dirt road. The evening was chilly, and he was glad he’d remembered his sweatshirt. That way, they could sit out on the porch again. With any luck Karen and Matt would be away. He wasn’t planning to kiss Mariah, but if the spirit moved them, well...
It wasn’t until Christian had rounded the corner to the lodge that he noticed Bill Landgrin’s truck parked outside. He stopped, frowning, then increased his pace.
He found Mariah sitting on the swing as if she’d been there all along awaiting his return. She looked as pretty as she had yesterday, but happier, more animated.
Bill was leaning casually against the porch rail, his legs crossed. He certainly seemed to have settled in for the evening.
Christian opened the gate and started purposefully up the walkway. Mariah’s eyes met his, and he read the welcome in her look. Landgrin twisted his head around; when he saw Christian, he glared.
“What are you doing here?” Landgrin demanded.
“I’ve come to see Mariah.”
“So have I,” the pipeline worker said, sounding none too friendly. “You can wait your turn like everyone else.”
“It’s going to take someone a whole lot bigger than you to get me to leave,” Christian informed the other man in deceptively calm tones. He didn’t appreciate Bill moving in on Mariah, and he wanted that understood.
“Bill. Christian. Please.”
Both men ignored her. They were too busy glowering at each other. By nature, Christian wasn’t a violent man, but there were few people who raised his ire as much as Bill.
“You had your chance with Mariah,” Bill said.
Christian didn’t know what Bill was implying, but he didn’t like it. The fact was, he didn’t like the other man, period. One thing was certain: he didn’t want Bill anywhere near her.
“She worked for you for a whole year!”
“That has nothing to do with this.” The point wasn’t worth discussing.
“You could’ve asked her out anytime. You didn’t, so she’s fair game for the rest of us.”
From the corner of his eye, Christian saw Mariah stand up from the swing. “Will you two kindly stop? You’re talking about me like...like I’m some kind of hunting trophy. Fair game!”
Christian had seen Mariah in this mood before. “Bill will apologize,” he said immediately, pointing at the other man. “I believe you owe the lady an apology.”
“Bill!” Mariah shouted. “What do you mean, Bill? What about you?”
Shocked, Christian broke eye contact with Bill long enough to glance her way. “Me? What did I do wrong?”
“How much time have you got?” Bill muttered under his breath, snickering.
Christian reverted his attention to Landgrin. “Okay, I’ll say what I came to say. Then, in the interests of fairness, I’ll leave.”
“I was here first,” Bill took pleasure in reminding him.
“Fine.” Christian raised both hands in a gesture of peace, the magazine still tucked under his arm. He moved forward and handed it to Mariah. “I thought you might like this.”
“Thank you,” she replied stiffly.
“And...” he said, clearing his throat. This wasn’t easy, especially with another man listening in. “I wanted to know if you’d attend the Labor Day dance with me.”
“Now just one damn minute,” Landgrin blared. “That’s the reason I’m here.”
A slow, satisfied smile unraveled across Christian’s face. “I asked f
irst.”
“But I was here first!”
“Bill. Christian.”
Again they both ignored her.
“She’s going with me,” Christian said, glancing briefly at Mariah for confirmation.
“Sorry, pal. If anyone’s taking Mariah to that dance, it’ll be me.”
“Not on your life.” Christian was willing to eat a whole lot more than crow just to get Bill out of the picture.
“As it happens,” Mariah said sternly, “I won’t be attending the dance with either of you. Duke Porter asked me two days ago, and I’ve already agreed to go with him.”
Having said that, she walked past them both and disappeared into the lodge.
Seven
Duke Porter! Christian didn’t like it, not one bit. While he was playing it cool, not wanting to appear overeager—because, of course, he wasn’t—Duke had gone behind his back and asked Mariah to the dance. Didn’t that beat all!
However, Christian decided he wasn’t really angry that Duke had outdone him; actually he found the whole thing rather amusing. His own pilot had shown him—and Bill—a thing or two.
Mariah weighed heavily on his mind. His possessive attitude toward her had begun to bother him. Duke didn’t concern him because—well, because he knew Duke wasn’t romantically interested in her. At least that was what Duke had been claiming for months, and Christian finally believed him.
Bill was another story altogether. He gritted his teeth every time he thought about the pipeline worker making a play for Mariah. What irritated him most was that she didn’t see through his fast-talking style. Christian had credited her with better sense than that.
In the past few weeks, everything had changed between him and Mariah, and Christian didn’t fully understand the differences yet.
Often when he was disturbed about something, he’d pull a flying assignment himself. That morning, instead of delegating Duke to take the mail into Fairbanks, Christian planned to make the run himself. He left a quick note, hoping Duke wouldn’t care, and set out early.
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