Just In Time: An Alaskan Nights Novel

by Addison Fox

  “That wasn’t my question.”

  “Hmmm?” She tried to focus on his words and not his large, tantalizing form as he moved closer toward her.

  “I asked you if you enjoyed yourself.”

  “Of course I did.” She brushed the question off.

  “Liar.”

  “I am not. Besides, what wasn’t there to enjoy? Two of my closest friends had a beautiful day and they threw a mighty fine party to seal the deal.” A small hiccup punctuated her words. “And the wine was delicious. It wasn’t quite your quarterly delivery of the mother lode, but it was damn good.”

  Roman had sent a quarterly shipment of some of the world’s finest wines, the crates arriving with alarming regularity, starting the first year he received a seven-figure contract. Although she’d resented the large boxes that Mick delivered from Anchorage, she’d never been able to resist what was inside. Rothschild. Screaming Eagle. And on one rare occasion a case of Petrus she still hadn’t had the courage to drink beyond one bottle.

  “I know you like wine.”

  “I like lots of things. Doesn’t mean I need you to buy them for me.”

  “It’s a gift, Avery. That’s all. Besides, I have it on good authority from my grandmother you’re not the only one who enjoys the wine.”

  Avery couldn’t resist offering up a small smile. “Your grandmother is sitting in the lobby waiting every time Mick brings in a shipment.”

  A lazy smile spread across his face as he moved in another step closer. “I’ll just bet she is.”

  Electricity hummed between them, sparking each time their gazes met, despite the silence that closed around them in their deserted stretch of hallway.

  She really should be over this.

  Over him.

  It had been years, and enough was enough.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I wanted to see you.”

  “You saw me all day.”

  “I wanted to see the girl I remember.”

  A sigh floated up from deep in her stomach, full of lost opportunities. “That’s all she is, Roman. A memory.”

  “I don’t know.” He moved forward and Avery wanted to move back. Wanted to raise some measure of resistance. But comfortable and numb and a raging case of curiosity had her standing still.

  “I think she’s still in there somewhere. That sassy girl who told me I’d never make the big leagues if I didn’t get better on the boards. And who made me practice my debate skills so I wouldn’t look like an asshole on TV.”

  A long-forgotten image flashed through her mind. The two of them sitting in Susan’s living room, practicing for their debate class.

  “Do you really want to look like a Neanderthal doofus tomorrow? Come on, all we’re debating is if Pearl Jam is worthy of the title of best grunge band ever.”

  A light flush of red crept up his neck. “No one wants to hear what I have to say. And for the record, they suck ass.”

  He’d been playing with her hand, distracting her as she tried to convince him to practice for debate class. Although his large fingers felt divine as they kept swirling over her palm, she tugged her hand away. The low clench in her stomach every time she got near him—or thought about him or looked at him—was hard enough to fight when he wasn’t touching her.

  And those damn swirls on her palm were way too distracting.

  “Then convince me of it.”

  “Of what?”

  “Why Pearl Jam sucks.”

  “I don’t know why they suck. They just do.”

  “Nope. Not good enough.” She stood, trying to put some distance between them. Her feelings for him had been overwhelming and she needed some distance from time to time.

  “I’m going to say something and all you have to do is respond.” His crossed eyes and folded arms only had her more desperate to make her point. “You think people won’t make fun of you when you’re in the big leagues if you can’t put two words together? Because they will.”

  “The big leagues are a long way away.”

  She hoped so. God, how she hoped so, but even she knew he was special on skates.

  She knew it.

  And she’d have known it even if there weren’t scouts up here every month or so watching him play.

  So she forced bravado into her tone and dangled the bait he could never resist. “That’s probably a good thing since you need a lot of practice. And you still can’t do shit in the crease because you act like a girl when you get slammed against the boards.”

  The light of battle sparked in his green eyes and he sat up straighter. “I kicked ass in Fairbanks last week.”

  “You got lucky with that goal. Your only goal.”

  His deep voice grew heavy with anger. “They had it out for me the entire game. The asshat defenders wouldn’t let me move.”

  “Excuses, excuses. Just like your crappy debate skills.”

  “Pearl Jam sucks. How will talking about it make me a better speaker?”

  While their teacher was trying to make the class fun, she knew Roman had a point and he was just stubborn enough to ignore the lesson as it had been assigned. “Fine. What do you want to debate about then?”

  “The Metros’ defense.”

  Avery waved a hand. “Have at it.”

  “Have at what?”

  “Debate the Metros’ defense for me. Tell me why it’s the best.”

  “It just is.”

  She hit him on the side of his head, the chance to touch him too wonderful to resist. “Listen to my question and then answer it. Teach me something.”

  Her words hovered in the air between them for a moment as his dark pupils expanded. He reached for her hand—the one she’d used to swat at him—and his thumb rubbed over her wrist.

  “Fine. I’ll teach you something.”

  The nerves in her wrist tingled under his hand, and she wondered why she never noticed before—not once in her whole life—how sensitive her arm could feel.

  With a quick exhale, she forced her attention back on their conversation.

  And her goal of ensuring Roman wouldn’t flunk their debate class and miss the spring formal.

  “Roman.” Her voice sounded funny in her ears when she finally spoke. “Many say the New York Metros have no shot at the Stanley Cup this year and even more say their defense isn’t playing to their full potential.”

  “I disagree, Ms. Marks.” His thumb flicked again and she forgot to breathe.

  “Ave?”

  “What?” The remembered flush that suffused her body was replaced with the reality of an adult Roman standing before her.

  “You look a million miles away.”

  “I was just remembering your high school debate lesson.”

  “Why Pearl Jam sucks?”

  Her mouth dropped. “You remember?”

  “Sure I do. I think about it every time someone shoves a microphone in my face.”

  “It was just a dumb debate subject by a teacher desperately trying to make class interesting.”

  “As I recall, you were the interesting part. But the lesson buried underneath ended up being important, too.”

  “What lesson?”

  “Listen before you respond.” A broad grin split his face and she sensed he held something back.

  “And?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No, not nothing. What?”

  “I was so horny that night. I thought you’d never shut up about that stupid class and let me kiss you.”

  The urge to cuff his head like that long-ago study night filled her but she kept her hands at her sides. “Men. One-track minds.”

  “Only for the good memories.”

  “I find it hard to believe an unfulfilled hard-on was a good memory.”

  That same look—the one that had darkened his gaze so many years before—rose up and edged out the laughter in his eyes. “You have no idea.”

  • • •

  Those notes of unfulfilled longing that had dogged h
im as a teenager grabbed him as if they’d never been sated.

  One look at her and all the grown-up self-control he’d gained since actually growing up vanished.

  And he wasn’t kidding about the Pearl Jam debate lesson. It did come to mind every time a reporter shoved a microphone at him. You’d think he’d be used to it after all this time, but that memory—and the desperate need he’d had for a crazy, sassy slip of a girl—hadn’t ever faded.

  “Since you keep avoiding my question, I’ll answer it instead. I thought today’s ceremony was beautiful. I’ve never seen Walker so happy, and I think Sloan is the perfect match for him. And if one more person asks me how long I’m staying I may leave a swath of bodies along Main Street.”

  “Everyone is very concerned with how long you’ll be here.”

  “I think they’re hoping for the love equivalent of a hat trick.”

  Avery’s eyes widened as his words registered. “Well, we need to ensure everyone knows that there’s one love match that won’t be happening.”

  Roman wasn’t sure why but the quick refusal stuck in his craw. With deliberately lazy movements, he leaned against the doorjamb of her apartment. “Why say anything?”

  “This town is crazy about love. You know that. And now that the grandmothers have two of you married off, you know they’re not going to stop. This town loves seeing its bachelors settle down.”

  “We’re grown-ups, Avery. I think you and I are more than capable of making up our own minds.”

  “They can be persuasive.”

  He couldn’t resist. The lightly hissed words—as if she were afraid of drawing the devil out of his lair—hovered in the air. With a streak of devilish amusement of his own, he snaked out a hand and grabbed one of hers in a tight grip, pulling her forward. “So can I.”

  Without giving her a moment to think about it, he wrapped his other hand around her back and pulled her in for a kiss. A light “oomph” of surprise was the last thing he heard before their lips met.

  She stiffened for the briefest moment—whether it was to fight him or run from him, he didn’t know—before she made the clear decision to stay. The lithe, supple lines of her body went soft under his fingers and Avery took the last few steps into him.

  And then he feasted.

  The memories of her that had haunted him for years fled with the reality of having her in his arms again. The soft cavern of her mouth and the erotic play of tongues both took him back and moved him firmly into the here and now.

  And as her tongue wrapped around his, drawing him deeply into her mouth, he realized that the memories he’d carried were of a girl. The woman in his arms was real, and so much better.

  As if he needed any further evidence of that fact, her curves spilled into his hands as he shifted his grip from her back to her waist. With his other hand, he skimmed his fingertips up the side of her body, brushing ever so lightly against the side of her breast.

  A light moan whispered through her lips and he did it again, satisfied when her breathing hitched at his touch.

  She’d always loved when he touched her breasts and had grown more demanding about it as they’d learned each others’ bodies. Each other’s rhythm. On some level he couldn’t define, it was gratifying to still know where to give her pleasure.

  And how to make her moan.

  So many things had changed in the time he’d been gone; he reveled in the sensation of knowing that they still fit.

  Which was why he wasn’t surprised when her hands came up hard against his chest.

  “Roman—”

  “What?” He marshaled his resources and skimmed his fingers once more over her torso, using his thumb to put additional pressure over the fullness of her breast.

  “Roman.” She stepped back, her lips wet from their kiss and her dark eyes glowing with an arousal he knew mirrored his own. “We can’t do this.”

  “We can do this.” He levered his hands at her hips to pull her closer.

  “No. We can’t.”

  Like a shutter slamming closed over the light streaming through a window, her passion-filled gaze shut down, replaced with an icy cool that stopped him from reaching for her again.

  “We can dance around this, Avery. Or we can do something about it.”

  “Don’t let nostalgia cloud your judgment, Roman. We stopped doing anything a long time ago. Dancing or otherwise.”

  Before he could muster up a response, she unlocked her door and slipped through it, not even turning to say good night.

  • • •

  The aftereffects of kissing Avery still hummed in his veins the following morning as Roman did his daily run through town. He had waved to a few early risers, but most of Indigo was still indoors, sleeping off a night of revelry.

  Fresh air flowed in and out of his lungs with each step he took, and he appreciated the change in routine. July in Manhattan was usually stifling, and the tang of cool, crisp air was a welcome respite.

  He followed a curving path out of town and along the river that ran outside Indigo. He’d done this run more times than he could count and the familiarity was a comforting presence as he processed the events of the last few days.

  The overheated moment in front of Avery’s doorway had haunted his dreams last night and he’d stood there for several moments, imagining what it would have been like if she’d allowed him to follow her inside. Long, soulful kisses like the one they’d shared in the hall. The languid removal of the silk material that showcased her figure to perfection. The press of their slick flesh as they came together after so many years apart.

  He could see all of it—every taste and touch—and it filled him with a quiet desperation he’d never had a name for.

  All he wanted was Avery. His Avery.

  And for the next month he’d be in close proximity to the one woman on the planet who drove him absolutely crazy.

  A rush of anger surged and he used it as an added incentive to push his body. Increasing his speed, despite the three miles he’d already covered, Roman fought the need that pumped through his bloodstream with good old-fashioned sweat and effort.

  His feet thumped over the ground, the occasional twig or branch making a satisfying crack as his weight split it in half. Cool air swept in and out of his lungs with increasing force and he reveled in the effort, satisfied when it required more of his attention.

  God, how she twisted him up and made him forget—

  Without warning, one second he was upright and moving at a steady clip and the next he flew ass over head down a slippery embankment.

  “Fuck!”

  The words tore from his lips as he used his hands to stop his momentum. He closed his eyes against the ground that rose up to meet him and tucked his shoulder at the last minute, as if approaching contact with the boards at the rink.

  “Effective, Forsyth,” he muttered to himself when he ended up facedown in a pile of wet leaves and grass.

  Roman rolled over, opened his eyes and looked around. A slight twinge echoed through his shoulder—more the result of an old injury than any real damage—and a quick assessment of his body ensured the fall had been more of an embarrassment than truly damaging.

  A massive fucking embarrassment when he looked back up at the embankment and saw what he’d missed.

  The path had a divot about the width of a foot and he’d stepped right into it. And he hadn’t seen it at all because the hole had been in his peripheral vision.

  Something he hadn’t had in his right eye for almost three months.

  Fuck, shit and damn.

  He stood and brushed the grass off, swiping at his shorts. A large cut gaped at his knee and he could see blood on the cap.

  “Great way to start the day, asshole,” he muttered to himself. “Horny and banged up. Welcome the fuck home.”

  Chapter Five

  Avery walked into the café around seven. Although there was plenty of breakfast at the hotel, she wasn’t interested in making small talk with the guests,
and Susan had taken pity on her.

  Or had recognized she’d scare off any repeat visitors with an attitude that could rival a grizzly bear’s.

  “You’re up early.” Mick smiled at her from a booth near the door and waved her over.

  “I could say the same for you. What are you doing here by yourself? Where’s Grier?”

  “My little party animal is sleeping off last night’s fun.”

  “She was sobering up when I left the reception.”

  “Jell-O shots,” Mick explained as he took a sip of coffee. “Someone had them in a cooler on the way out and she thought they’d be a good idea.”

  “I bet she feels a bit different this morning.”

  “Which is why I made about as much noise as one of my planes this morning as I got ready to head out.”

  Avery couldn’t help but smile at that. “You’re an evil man. It’s one of your most charming qualities.”

  “I’m not sure Grier thought it was so charming.”

  “Actually, when she comes out of her self-induced stupor, I think she’ll probably applaud you for it. She’s twisted that way. Which”—Avery picked up the mug of coffee their waitress set down in front of her—“is the reason she’s so damn crazy about you. You give her a run for her money.”

  “Sort of like you and Roman?”

  Her good humor fled, replaced immediately with the grizzly attitude. “It’s nothing like me and Roman.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “The whole town thinks differently.”

  “Then they’re going to be very disappointed to realize how wrong they are.”

  “Ah, but the real question, my friend, is, are they wrong?”

  Avery mulled his words over as she looked at her menu. She knew exactly what she wanted—had known before walking in the door—but the menu gave her a handy excuse to stall.

  She’d carried her feelings for Roman so close to the surface for so long that it hurt in a way she could never have imagined to have him dangled in front of her once more. She truly understood that everyone’s hopeful eyebrow raises and happy gossip weren’t meant to be hurtful, but they simply had no idea what it did to her.