Just In Time: An Alaskan Nights Novel

by Addison Fox

  Her heart rumbled in her chest at the endearment he’d used since they were young. Ignoring it—just as she’d tried to ignore him all day—she offered up a small smile instead. “You don’t have any perspective anymore. The great unwashed masses of us don’t know what it’s like to be stared at all the time. And we don’t like it much, either.”

  “It’s a necessary evil of what I do.” He paused and pondered his glass. “And I never said I liked it.”

  “Oh please. You’ve posed nude for pictures, with nothing but a towel. That does not scream, ‘I’m shy and retiring, please don’t look at me.’”

  Whatever somber thought had been behind his last comment fled as his smile spread. He leaned in, his grin almost wolfish in the soft, muted glow of the room’s twinkle lights. “You liked that one, did you?”

  The gleam in those gorgeous green depths had her heart pounding again. Damn it, how did she get herself into these things? She had no business discussing nude photos with her ex. Especially when those photos were of him.

  Forcing a bored note into her voice, she gave him the same generous smile she reserved for his grandmother. “You’ve got an amazing body, Roman. Everyone who looked at it liked that picture.”

  The ploy obviously worked, because he leaned back in his chair, his smile falling. As the moment grew tense once more—the normal state between the two of them—Avery fought the momentary urge to apologize.

  It was all about self-preservation. And when faced with the impact of Roman Forsyth in the flesh, a woman needed a full suit of emotional body armor.

  Satisfied hers was back in place, she shifted the conversation. “It’s been a beautiful wedding. Sloan and Walker will look back on this and know they pulled off a winner.”

  “Everyone has gotten along.”

  “Grier thinks it’s solely a result of the ‘Y.M.C.A.’”

  “That song is the great equalizer. No one can be all uppity and pompous while throwing their hands in the air and spelling letters over and over again.”

  “So it’s got nothing to do with everyone making an effort?”

  One dark eyebrow lifted at her assessment. “Did you somehow miss how chilly last night’s rehearsal dinner was?”

  Avery had to give him points for honesty. “It wasn’t the most rocking evening I’ve ever attended.”

  “I’ve sat through postgame screaming matches from the coach that were more enjoyable than last night.”

  “Maybe that’s why Sloan was nervous all morning. She almost flipped out when Grier let her know Sophie was taking her mother to task.”

  Roman’s laugh was slow and easy. “Now, there’s a conversation I’d have paid to witness. Walker’s grandmother only looks sweet.”

  “I won’t argue with you there. I don’t think Winifred McKinley knew what hit her.”

  “She did look a bit shell-shocked during the ceremony.”

  They sat companionably, the moment a funny mix of easy camaraderie and frustrating self-awareness. She’d missed this, Avery acknowledged to herself. The casual conversation and comfortable understanding between the two of them.

  They’d had it since they were young—and if she took her romantic emotions out of the equation, she knew the loss of this companionship had been nearly as hard as losing her first boyfriend.

  The last strains of the song faded, and Avery didn’t miss the quick tempo that took its place. Before she could register his movement, Roman was on his feet and pulling her to hers. “You can’t skip this one. It’s just not allowed.”

  His large hand engulfed hers and Avery felt herself dragged toward the dance floor as the crowd parted to make room for them, the strains of “Oh, What a Night” blaring through the speakers.

  Avery lifted her arms, the tension flying away as the voices of the Four Seasons floated over her. Their ode to lost virginity was as enjoyable—and dance-worthy—at thirty-three as it was at eighteen.

  Grier and Sloan made their way toward her, the three of them laughing and dancing to the freedom of the music.

  “My mother hates this song!” Sloan finally got out after a particularly impressive half spin, half pirouette. “Thinks it’s undignified.”

  “Can we get ’em to play it again?” Grier suggested as she added some nimble footwork to complement the movements of her arms.

  Sloan shot a glance at her mother, who’d managed to join the floor and who was doing a rather impressive dance of her own with Sloan’s father. “Actually, I’m not sure if we’ll appreciate the outcome. My mother appears to be enjoying herself.”

  “Quick. Where’s the garlic?”

  Avery swatted at Grier’s arm, laughing in spite of herself as Mick moved in to wrangle his wayward fiancée. Avery threw back her head and lifted her arms as Frankie Valli’s voice layered over the happily singing wedding attendees. It was only when Roman moved right in next to her, his large frame dwarfing her own, that she dropped her arms, stumbling and losing the beat.

  And just like that, whatever joy had her firmly engaged in the moment evaporated, replaced in her mind’s eye with a vision of their prom night.

  He’d stood above her so many years before, looking surprisingly similar. The tuxedo wasn’t custom-made and his hair was a bit longer, curling at the nape of his neck, but the rest was the same.

  And the same hungry expression that rode his gaze then was the one he wore right now.

  • • •

  Roman stared down at Avery, his heart throbbing somewhere around the middle of his throat. A need so sharp it was nearly painful struck him with blunt force, like a body slam against the boards while skating at full speed.

  Damn, but she got to him.

  Nerves buzzed around his stomach with manic need, and he realized with a start he hadn’t felt the same around a woman since he was sixteen years old. When he’d schemed every conceivable way to ask her out.

  His relief had been palpable when she’d said yes, her agreement to go to the diner for ice cream so simple—so natural—he’d wondered why he had worried at all.

  Somehow he didn’t think it would be quite so easy this time.

  Or that a hot fudge sundae could fix what had gone wrong between the two of them.

  Pulling himself firmly off memory lane, he smiled and executed a neat two-step that he’d perfected in the eighth grade. “Your footwork needs some help, Marks.”

  The heat that flared in her dark eyes shifted at the whiff of competition. “I can dance circles around you. I always could.”

  “Prove it.”

  The pulsing beat kept up around them as Avery took his challenge to heart. She lifted her arms again and his gaze traveled the familiar paths of her long, lithe frame. The pert fullness of her breasts peeked over the edge of her gown, and Roman imagined peeling it off her with infinite slowness.

  As the music reached its final chorus, she tilted her head back, her eyes closed to the music, and Roman felt himself pulled into her orbit.

  Why had he ever left it?

  Happy shouts filled the room as the entire crowd finished off the dance. Roman could only thank the magical power of an oldie-but-goodie that no one was focused on him and what had to be a besotted haze covering his face.

  “You all right, Roman?”

  The moment shattered as Walker slapped him on the back. Roman didn’t miss the dark glare Sloan shot Walker, who was oblivious to his new wife’s distress.

  Suddenly inspired, he reached for Sloan as he turned to Walker. “I’m fine, buddy. And I’m getting my dance with the bride.”

  Sloan went willingly into his arms as the band moved into a slower number. Not nearly as torchy as the Etta James song, but one designed to slow down the room.

  Sloan laid a hand on his shoulder as he clasped her hand. “I swear he’s completely oblivious sometimes.”

  The thought flitted through his mind to play dumb but he respected Sloan way too much for that. “I’d say his timing was impeccable.”

  Other than th
e subtle tightening of her hand in his as Roman moved her into a turn, her expression stayed neutral. “I don’t know about that. You were dancing with a beautiful woman. I’m not sure you needed your best friend’s interference.”

  Roman ratcheted up his smile. The megawatt version he used for the press. “Yet here I am, dancing with another beautiful woman.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, well, my last dance partner had to be dragged onto the floor, so I’m not sure that’s a ringing endorsement.”

  He watched several emotions flit across her face before she settled on whatever it was she found acceptable. “I realize there’s a lot of history there. But you both have a chance to make the best of the here and now. Isn’t that worth something?”

  It was worth more than something, but Roman was damned if he’d say so.

  He’d blown his chances a long time ago, and no matter how badly he wanted Avery—or how badly he missed having her in his life—he’d made his choice years ago.

  And there was no getting around it.

  “Come on, Mrs. Montgomery. I’m a rolling stone and you know it. Hell, you interviewed me, and I believe said as much in your article.”

  The delight she found in his use of her new name faded quickly, along with her smile. “That was a few years ago. And it certainly was before I knew you.”

  “Don’t look so upset. And for the record, you were correct in your assessment.”

  “No, Roman, I wasn’t.” She held his gaze, an apology flickering clearly in the depths of hers. “I was horribly presumptuous and out of line, waxing poetic when I should have reported what was told to me.”

  He wasn’t sure why the article had stuck with him, when it had been long forgotten by others. And he found it even more curious that it was his best friend’s future wife who had written it.

  One of the odd circles of life, he supposed.

  But despite the reason, the article had stuck with him, Sloan’s words haunting him for their strange measure of truth.

  But when you dig down deep and pull away the layers, it’s hard to understand what truly motivates Roman Forsyth. He’s at the top of his game, the pinnacle of a hall-of-fame career, yet this reporter couldn’t help wondering why the depths of his vivid green eyes hold a tinge of sadness.

  Pulling himself from the memory, he leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on her most special of days. “You weren’t horribly presumptuous, you were one hundred percent truthful. There’s a big difference.”

  “Well then, I’ll try for presumptuous once more and then I’ll drop it.” She made a quick cross over her chest. “Promise.”

  He could hear the song winding down, the last, lingering strains floating over the room. “Okay. Shoot.”

  “Don’t miss out on something because you think you can’t have it. I almost made that mistake and if I had, I wouldn’t be here today.” She was on her tiptoes and pressing her lips to his cheek. “So just think about it.”

  Walker swooped in before the last notes faded, pulling his new wife away, but Roman didn’t miss the somber light in her vivid blue eyes.

  Nor did he miss the small smile she sent his way before turning into Walker’s arms.

  • • •

  Julia propped her stockinged feet on a folding chair and lifted her glass of champagne toward Sophie and Mary. “To a very successful day.”

  Their town hall showed the evidence of a good time had by all, and they’d said good-bye to the last of the revelers a short while before.

  And then made the unanimous decision to break into a bottle of Dom Perignon Julia had saved for a special occasion. Her dearest friends clinked their flutes in turn and each sat back with a satisfied smile on her face.

  Sophie’s gaze turned speculative. “I had a few moments where I thought things might not go off as planned, but everything did fall into place beautifully.”

  “Sloan’s mother is”—Mary coughed—“unique.”

  “She’s a grizzly bear.” Sophie let out an indelicate harrumph. “But I saw a few moments of real genuineness so I suppose she’s not all bad.”

  “I saw her tears when Sloan and Walker exchanged their vows.” Julia let her thoughts drift to the ceremony. “I suspect she means well; she simply doesn’t know how to show it.”

  “I thought I was supposed to be the diplomatic one.” Sophie took another sip of her champagne. “You know, as mayor and all.”

  Mary let out another cough but Julia didn’t miss the grin she hid behind her hand.

  Or the quick wink she shot Julia when she came up for air.

  Sophie missed all of it as she reached for the champagne bottle they’d set between them on another folding chair. “What is it about a wedding?”

  “The promise—” Mary sighed.

  “The passion,” Julia added at the same time.

  “Are you sure you’re talking about the bride and groom?”

  Julia heard the not so subtle notes of innuendo lacing Sophie’s words. “Of course. They looked so happy.”

  “I meant Avery and Roman. Did you see the way the two of them looked at each other?”

  “It’s electric. Just as it always was,” Mary added.

  Julia understood their need to talk about it. Heck, she’d been more than happy to talk to her friends about their grandsons’ romances, but something felt off and she couldn’t quite define why. “That was a long time ago. I’m just glad the two of them can be in the same room together.”

  “But the way they look at each other.” Sophie’s tone was persistent. “Don’t tell me you don’t see it?”

  It was hard to miss, but she’d be damned if she’d discuss it.

  Her grandson had made some poor choices with Avery. Oh, she’d never begrudge him his opportunity to pursue his dream, but she also knew the pursuit had come with a price.

  And Avery had borne the payment.

  “Come on, girls. They have a lot of history there. It doesn’t mean anything more. He’s headed back home in a few weeks and our girl’s still glowing from her trip to Ireland.”

  A merry twinkle lit Sophie’s eyes. “Sounds like she had a wonderful time there. And the phone lines have been burning up ever since. Maybe it’ll kick Roman’s butt into gear and he’ll do something about her. It’s clear he still has feelings for her.”

  Julia wasn’t sure why the words were so irritating, but she resisted the urge to say anything. Roman and Avery didn’t need their interference. In fact, they’d both be far better off if they were simply left alone.

  She hadn’t missed the speculative gazes and whispered comments that had floated around the room all day. And the denizens of Indigo had turned practically purple holding their breaths and craning their necks watching them dance near the end of the wedding.

  It was no one’s business, but all anyone saw was hearts and cupids floating around their heads.

  And it worried her.

  From the earliest age, Roman and Avery had been compatible, their friendship easy and genuine. It hadn’t shocked her when that friendship turned to something more in high school.

  Nor had it shocked her when her grandson left a few short years later in pursuit of his dream.

  He’d spent his life under a veil of missed opportunity; his grandfather dying before he was born and his own father dying when he was a child. She’d known—even if he’d never overtly said it—that he wasn’t going to let his life go unfulfilled.

  Roman had a dream and it hadn’t been rooted in a small town in Alaska.

  Even if the woman he loved with all his heart was.

  Chapter Four

  Avery slipped out of her heels as she walked across the parking lot of the Indigo Blue. The July night had grown cool, but the purple twilight above her ensured no one could forget it was actually summer.

  The midnight air swirled around her and she hovered in that delightful stage between drunk and sober.

  Comfortably numb, she’d heard it referred to, and i
t fit.

  Shouts still echoed around town, several of the wedding revelers headed to Maguire’s for a nightcap or the diner for more fun, but they were all far enough away that she was blessedly free from making small talk. Susan had declared the hotel bar closed for the night, and Avery was determined to enjoy what was left of a quiet evening.

  The front doors slid open at her approach and she walked into the hotel, the familiar lobby welcoming her home. She’d lived here for almost two years now—had worked here for nearly fifteen—and the sense of belonging she felt every time she entered the large structure that dominated the end of town never failed to strike her with a jolt of surprise. It had been a strange sort of comfort, knowing she was always welcome at the Indigo Blue, despite the failure of her relationship with the proprietor’s son.

  Even more comforting was knowing Roman’s mother and grandmother continued to love her anyway.

  Several of the wedding’s out-of-town guests sat around the lobby in small conversation groups. Although she’d declared the bar closed, Susan had left complimentary waters and soft drinks in a cooler in front of the bar and a bottle of wine in each guest’s room. Avery saw several people had taken advantage of the hospitality as they wound down from the revelry of the day.

  The urge to stop and check on them was strong, but she willed her feet to keep on moving toward her apartment. She’d been up since five, doing last-minute prep work for the hotel before firmly morphing into her role as bridesmaid.

  Her apartment was on a small corridor off the lobby and she headed that way, fumbling in her clutch for keys.

  “Avery.”

  Awareness skimmed over her skin, and her fingers shook as she closed over the cool metal. On a small intake of breath, she turned away from the door.

  “Roman.”

  “Did you enjoy the wedding?”

  “It was a beautiful day.”

  His bow tie hung haphazardly around his neck and the top button of his shirt was undone. The awareness humming in her veins amped up another few decibels as she took in the column of his throat and the light growth of beard on his jaw.

  How did he manage to look like he’d just walked off a photo shoot at midnight, after a full day of revelry?