She gave a vague lift of her shoulder. She couldn’t really complain; everyone had been exceptionally nice to her. “Guess it’s only natural to be curious about a stranger.”
She wished she didn’t feel so unsettled when he looked at her. After all, it was normal to look at the person you were talking to. It was just that she could almost feel his eyes on her face, on her skin…
Alison shook herself free of the feeling. “So tell me about your plans for the general store.”
He could almost see her shifting gears and wondered why she felt the need to.
“Nothing much, just what I said the other day.” He didn’t normally like to put his plans into words until he was absolutely sure about what he was doing and more than halfway there. But he’d found himself telling Alison about his idea over dinner the other night when Sydney had invited him over. “I was thinking of putting in a lunch counter for mothers and their kids.”
From what she’d seen so far, unless patrons came from the Inuit village beyond the outskirts of town, that didn’t amount to exactly a large crowd.
“Won’t do much business,” she commented.
He didn’t have to consider his answer. “Enough. Besides, the object isn’t to ‘do business’ or make money, it’s to give people a choice.” Years ago, he remembered hearing his mother complain that there wasn’t anywhere for a woman to go to be with other women without having a man at her elbow. This could be that kind of place. “Ike and I practically grew up in the Salty.” He saw the interest in her eyes and heard himself continuing. For a private person, he’d been doing an awful lot of talking these days. “Our fathers were brothers and they liked spending their time there with their friends. If we wanted to spend any time with our fathers, we came along.”
It had seemed like a nice enough place, but there was still that connotation hanging on to it. “And your mothers didn’t mind?”
The question caught him off guard, then he realized what she had to be thinking. “It’s not a bar, it’s a saloon.” There was a world of difference between the two. “Like a pub in England. A place for friends to get together and talk, play a little pool, shoot some darts, things like that.”
She couldn’t help laughing. “You almost make it sound like a public service.”
That was one way to describe it, he supposed. “Maybe.”
She shifted on the bank, the muscles in her rear beginning to cramp a little. Without realizing it, she shifted closer to him.
“Then why have the counter in the general store?”
What he was proposing made her think of photographs she’d seen of the old-fashioned five-and-dime with its lunch counters tucked away in the corner. She saw no need for it if the Salty was as genial a place as he maintained.
“The Salty’s for everyone, but since we’ve got a lot more men than women, it’s more of a guy’s hangout. The counter, like I said, would be for women when they want to get together away from men.” He figured that would make the most sense for her.
She could relate to that far more than he’d suspect, she thought. Cocking her head, she studied his face. The man was full of surprises. “Nice of you to think of something like that.”
He merely shrugged and looked away. Compliments always made him uncomfortable. He saw her line moving. “Hey, I think you’ve got a tug on the line.”
Even as he alerted her to it, Alison felt the line go taut, felt the hard pull on the pole. It almost got away from her.
“I do!” Bracing, she found that it wasn’t enough. Whatever was on the other end was strong. “Wow.” Holding tight, she was being dragged down the remainder of the bank. “This one’s putting up a fight.” Unease set in even as she gained her feet. She couldn’t seem to stop moving. “Luc?”
He was behind her in a second, his arms going around the pole. And her. “Let go. I’ll bring him in for you.”
She wasn’t even aware of the light laugh that escaped. Alison held on harder. “Not on your life.”
He heard the excitement in her voice and understood. There was a thrill, being pitted against nature, vying for supremacy. But he also understood that she’d be dragged into the water in another minute. This wasn’t a minnow she’d caught, it was something that had the strength to fight for the all-important victory.
Closing his hands around hers, Luc added his strength to Alison’s. And tried not to notice that her hair was brushing against his face. Coupled with the light scent she dabbed on every morning, it was making him feel just the slightest bit light-headed. Desire whispered along the fringes of his consciousness. Telling himself he was just having some sort of allergic reaction to the perfume didn’t seem to work.
“Pull!” she yelled at him.
“I am!”
Muscles on his biceps hardened. With his arms bracketing her, it was hard for Alison not to notice. Harder for her not to be affected. With effort, she concentrated on the fish and not the man. “Pull harder, we’re losing him!”
His body was as stiff as he could make it, holding fast. “No…I don’t…think so.”
But they were still moving toward inevitable contact with the water. Alison yelped in surprise when she finally felt it along her shins. Everything within her reacted. The snows on the mountains had only recently melted and run off, making the stream close to icy cold.
Luc heard her teeth chatter. “Reel it in,” he ordered. “Reel it in!”
“I am reeling!” Alison insisted through clenched teeth.
His hands wrapped even more tightly around hers, Luc pulled the pole back as hard as he could. Alison’s foot slipped and they both wound up toppling over backward onto the bank with Alison coming down on top of him. Luc let go of the pole to try to cushion her fall and somehow managed to wind up holding her instead. The shock of contact was more pronounced than the cold water had been.
Her body felt soft and was made of pure temptation. Giddy, self-deprecating laughter echoed and swelled, then faded away into the air as their eyes met.
There was no more room for laughter.
It was hard to say who kissed who first. Luc would have liked to think it was mutual, but he might have been the one to set it in motion.
It didn’t really matter.
Whichever way it played, he found his lips crushed against hers. And found liquid fire in his veins. He’d seen an oil fire burning once, and this was like that. Wild, bright and giving all the signs of being out of control.
Except that he knew it couldn’t be. There was something about her, something that told him she wasn’t ready, no matter how sweet her body felt against his, no matter how inviting this kiss was. He would have thought that he wasn’t ready, either. Something inside of him made that a contradiction.
But it took two. And he had never forced a woman to do anything. It wouldn’t have occurred to him to even try, no matter what was at stake.
Her head was spinning again. She’d hit it against his chin when they came down, but that didn’t have anything to do with it. It was spinning because he was kissing her. Because he’d started that strange chain reaction within her that made her entertain lies. Lies like she could actually follow this through to its natural conclusion. Without freezing.
She knew that wasn’t possible. Believing that it was had been what had led her into her marriage. She’d learned fast, hadn’t she?
Slowly, her heart hammering wildly, Alison drew back, her hands against his chest, her lungs struggling for air. She shook her head, an Olympic swimmer shaking water off after a race. Except she hadn’t won. She hadn’t even come close.
She fought hard not to let Luc see what was going on inside her. A smile frozen to her lips, she scrambled quickly to her feet.
Looking toward the stream, she saw her pole disappearing under the water. The fish had won. Not that she would have kept it if she’d been the one to win the battle. She’d meant to throw it back all along. There was no way in the world she could have looked down at the fish struggling on the bank
and then gone on to eat it. She would have eaten dandelions first.
Carefully she dusted off her hands on her jeans. “Looks like I owe you a pole.”
She owed him more than that, he thought. Another man would have tried to cash in on the promise he’d tasted on her lips. Pushed just enough to make it a reality. It had been there, within his grasp. He didn’t know all that much about women, but he’d known that.
But he wasn’t another man, he was Luc, and he understood fearing to tread over ground that had once been crossed. Her husband had probably soured her badly on the subject of relationships and she didn’t want to make the same mistake again. He could respect that. Hell, wasn’t he in the same boat?
Maybe not, he amended, looking into her eyes.
“Forget about it. I lost my grip on it, too.” And on himself, as well, he added silently. His own pole was lying lax on the ground where he’d dropped it. “Looks like we’ll have to starve to death.”
She laughed, glad he’d changed the subject. Grateful he hadn’t pressed his advantage. Or said things the way Derek had.
You’re nothing but a tease, you know that? A heartless bitch-tease. He hadn’t understood and she couldn’t explain it to him. Hadn’t the words in the face of his scorn.
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Turning, she linked her arm through Luc’s and began to lead the way back to his Jeep. “I know this really great place where they make wonderful salads.”
He liked it when she smiled. Everything seemed to light up around her. Picking up his pole, he let himself be led. “Really? Tell me more.”
She looked a little wide-eyed, he thought, watching her face as they approached the Inuit village. It wasn’t hard to guess what was on her mind. People came with preconceived ideas, born of ancient documentaries and old National Geographic photographs.
“Not what you expected, is it?”
“No,” she confessed. She banked down her embarrassment. There was only a little, anyway. Luc seemed to understand her mistakes. It made them easier to bear. “I’m not sure what I expected.”
Maybe she didn’t, but he knew. “Probably igloos and other stereotypical trimmings.” What there was in place of that was a collection of single-and two-story houses, little more than upgraded shacks. Some even lacked electricity and running water, although things were being done to remedy that. “Don’t feel bad. Most people don’t take the trouble to learn that the Inuits have moved into the present century. Ike’s mother was half-Inuit.” And he’d gotten his first education about the proud people and their traditions from his aunt.
Getting out of his Jeep, Alison reached into the back seat for the medical bag Shayne had lent her. “I’m still having trouble wrapping my tongue around that term. Why aren’t they Eskimos anymore?”
He resisted the temptation of putting his arm around her shoulders as they walked toward the village. “That was the Native American’s name for them. It means Eater-of-fish.” His mouth curved. “Would you want to be known as that if you had a choice?”
“I see your point.” She shifted the bag from one hand to the other. It was heavier than she thought. “It’s very nice of you to bring me here.”
“The kids need these inoculations, and getting them to come into town wasn’t an option.” It was hard enough getting everyone to agree to their coming into the village. “When Paddy broke his leg, I knew Shayne was going to have to postpone coming out here, so I volunteered to bring you. No big deal. I like coming out here. It’s peaceful.”
She looked around. “It is that.” Luc reached for the bag she was struggling with. Instinct had her closing her hand tighter around the handle. “It’s okay, I’ve got it.” She thought of Paddy, in pain and biting his tongue not to say choice words around her when they brought him in. “Do the miners have a lot of accidents?”
“Enough to keep Shayne busy.” They were on the outskirts of the village now. “C’mon, I’ll help you gather the kids together—or do you have something against that, too?”
“No.” She pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry. It’s just important to me to be independent, that’s all.”
“Accepting help once in a while doesn’t make a person dependent, it makes them smart.”
She bit back a retort. Alison knew he was right. “Okay, here.” She thrust the bag toward him.
He merely grinned.
They went from house to house. For the most part, they were admitted warmly, if somewhat shyly. The latter, she realized, had to do with her. But since she was with Luc, the residents of the village allowed her to come into their homes.
Inside, she was amazed to see how very like any other home these homes were. She was even more amazed how highly regarded Luc was among these people. The children flocked to him.
She learned on the way over that there’d been an outbreak of measles just before she’d arrived in Hades. Shayne had used that to finally convince the elders to allow their children to be inoculated. After much hemming and hawing, a date had been set aside. Paddy’s broken leg had proven unfortunate for more than Paddy until Luc had volunteered to bring her to the village.
Initially Luc served as an interpreter and go-between, but pretty soon Alison became comfortable with the situation. He had to admire the way she dealt with the children, even the ones who didn’t understand her because their parents had insisted that they speak only the “old language.” While they couldn’t understand the words, the children could understand the look in her eyes. There wasn’t even a need for him to translate.
The language sounded incongruous, coming from his lips. The first time he spoke it, Alison paused, looking at him with amazement. It was hard associating him with the man who had lost his memory only weeks earlier. “You speak the language?”
“I grew up here, remember?” He picked up the little boy and said a few words to chase away the fear he saw in the dark eyes before setting him down again.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you’d know the language. A lot of people don’t take the trouble to learn the language of the people around them if their parents don’t.”
His mother was Swedish, his father French, his aunt half-Inuit and one of his closest friends at the time spoke fluent Russian. There had been a mixture of foreign languages floating in and out of his house while he was growing up.
He shrugged. “Never gave it much thought. The best guy on our baseball team when Ike, Shayne and I were growing up was Noe, an Eskimo. They were called Eskimos back then,” he added with an amused smile. His hands on the boy’s shoulders to offer silent support, he watched as Alison quickly inoculated the child. The boy’s younger sister watched, her eyes as huge as saucers. “You’re pretty handy with that.”
“I don’t see the need to add pain to their fears.” She prepared another syringe.
“Your turn, little one,” he murmured in Inuit. The little girl shut her eyes and turned her face into his leg, holding on tight.
Alison moved as quickly as she was able. “There, done.”
That was the last of them, he thought as she gathered her things together. This was the last house. “Well, Clara Barton, I think you can go home now. Your work here is done.”
She closed the medical bag, offering a smile to the children’s mother. Feeling inept that she couldn’t say anything to the woman that she would understand. “Tell her—”
“To watch for any signs of fever, yes, I know.” He had repeated it, or heard her say it, to every parent.
She waited until they were outside the house before asking, “Clara Barton?”
He took the case from her, but thought better of offering her his arm. He noticed that several of the children who’d been inoculated either came out or were at their windows, watching them leave the village. “The nurse who founded the American Red Cross.”
“I know who she is. I just didn’t—” She was doing it again, she thought. Alison bit her lip, hoping he took no offense. It was just that she didn’t expect someone who lived out
here to be well-read. “Sorry.”
He took no offense. “You’ve got to get over the notion that just because the sun does strange things up in this part of the world that it fries our brains, as well. Have you taken a look at Shayne’s library?” Opening the Jeep door, he placed the bag in the back.
Alison climbed in on her side. “Yes, but he’s a doctor, and well…”
Luc got in behind the wheel and waited until she buckled up before starting the vehicle. “Not only doctors read. Sometimes saloon owners, slash, general store owners, slash, businessmen read, too.”
“I’m sorry, slash, really.” She grinned, shaking her head at her own actions. “What is it about you that has me tripping over my tongue?”
He glanced at her before turning the Jeep toward Hades. “The feeling’s mutual, Alison. The feeling surely is mutual.”
“Wait, there’s something I want you to have. I mean, it’s something you’re going to need if we’re to do this right.”
Alison turned around, curious. About to walk into Shayne’s house after Luc had brought her home, she’d already said goodbye to him.
There was a wedding band in the palm of his hand, its Florentine workmanship long since rubbed away by time and wear, but she could still see traces of it where the light hit it.
For a second, her heart came to a complete stop. Alison raised her eyes to his.
“It was my mother’s. And her mother’s before that.” Holding it out to her had suddenly made him feel tongue-tied, awkward. He’d kept it in his pocket all afternoon, just the way he had when he’d intended to give it to Janice. He had no idea why he’d held back now. It wasn’t as if giving her the ring actually meant anything. “My father slipped it on her hand and said the words that bound him to her forever.”
“Your father was a minister?”
He grinned. “No. But it was the middle of winter and the town was snowed in. There was no way to get to a minister and my father didn’t think he could hold out any longer. But he didn’t want my mother to feel as if they were living in sin, either, so they married each other. You can do that in extreme cases,” he told her when she lifted a skeptical brow. “It’s in the Bible somewhere.” He looked at the ring. “She wore this till the day she died. I figured you might need it to pull off the charade.”
Men Made in America Mega-Bundle Page 39
