Alaskan Dawn

by Edie Claire

  Or the mammals that ate them?

  Haley fought back a wave of nausea. She hadn’t dealt with a situation like this before. It was far more typical for the polluting incident to be over and done with before she ever came on board. In those rare cases when it wasn’t, her clients had always been reasonably diligent in addressing the problem. But despite the horrendous publicity Stirjon had received over their last disaster, they had succeeded in fending off any major financial loss, which in their view meant they’d gotten away with it.

  And they’re going to get away with it again, she thought with consternation. The fishermen’s group was so underfunded and their counsel so third rate that applying even the most elementary of her bag of tricks made her feel like she was bludgeoning a baby seal. The newspaper article was grossly misleading, not in fingering Stirjon for the pollution, but in raising reader hopes that something constructive was being done about it. The truth was that this particular legal challenge to Stirjon, legitimate as its basis might be, wasn’t scary enough to stir them to action.

  She supposed that Bob had knocked on her door before entering. He usually did, at least perfunctorily. But this time she hadn’t heard a thing, and by the time she saw his feet on her carpet he was already standing in front of her desk.

  She lifted her chin without enthusiasm.

  “You sick, Haley?” he asked, not entirely without sympathy. At seven months, she was quite obviously pregnant now, and starting to look a little puffy.

  “No,” she answered automatically. “I’m fine. What’s up?” She didn’t care for the look on his face. Over the last four years, she’d learned to read the man like a book. He had come to give her bad news.

  He didn’t answer immediately, but pulled up a chair and sat.

  Very bad news.

  “It’s the fishermen’s group,” he said without preamble, drumming his fingers on her desk. Haley braced herself. Drumming fingers signaled more than anxiety. They signaled fear. “They’ve got new counsel.”

  Haley felt an odd prickle of elation. Good for them. “Who?” she asked. There were a few national nonprofit teams that picked up such cases when they could, but their funding had its limits as well.

  “Sylvester,” Bob answered.

  Haley’s heart skipped a beat. “Donny Sylvester?!”

  He nodded gravely.

  “But how?” she demanded, rising from her seat. “They couldn’t possibly afford him!”

  Bob wiped a handkerchief across his brow, then over the bald part of his head. “He’s taking it on pro bono. The clean water people got to him. Convinced him it would be a crowd pleaser.”

  Haley swore and dropped back in her seat.

  She had been content to give her adversaries a sporting chance. But Donny Sylvester was one of the best plaintiff’s attorneys in the business. He was a rock star. He was legendary. Worse still, he was teaching at a university now, which meant his services would come complete with every corporate attorney’s worst nightmare — an endless source of cheap labor in the form of idealistic, overzealous, tirelessly energetic law students.

  “Stirjon’s going to have to face facts,” she said sharply. “You know what we’re working with, Bob. We can hold Sylvester off a while, but he’ll get to the crux of it. He won’t give up until he does.”

  Bob nodded. His cool blue eyes studied her intently. “Taking on Sylvester could be the making of you, Haley.”

  She swallowed. He was right. Her chance of getting the best of Sylvester with a case as lame as Stirjon’s was in the single digits, but a good showing on her part could open doors, regardless. It could be a defining point in her career.

  “So how carefully are you going to be able to time that maternity leave?” he asked.

  The seeming non sequitur stopped Haley cold. She was entitled to three months off with pay, because the policy drew no distinction between women who took home infants and those who did not. But she had assured him that she would be out no longer than strictly necessary — probably no more than a week, unless she had a c-section or other complications. But lately, she’d been thinking differently. Lately, she’d been thinking of Maui.

  “You know I can’t predict that,” she said flatly. “We’ll have to play it by ear.”

  Bob nodded and made no further comment. He rose. “I’m going out of town this weekend,” he announced morosely. “Possibly the last chance to save my marriage. Let’s meet first thing Monday morning. Sylvester won’t be taking over the case for at least a week.”

  Haley looked up. Everyone knew that Bob’s second wife was on a hair trigger. She had burst into his office three days ago screaming like a maniac. It seemed inevitable that he would once again fall casualty to the partner divorce curse, but Bob never gave up easy. “I’m sorry,” Haley said simply. He rarely talked about his wife and had never mentioned marital problems before, so she didn’t either. “Monday morning is fine. Have a good weekend.”

  He lifted a hand in farewell and departed.

  Haley’s mind spun with a barrage of conflicting desires. Her competitive streak was glad that Sylvester was on board, no question. Wrestling a polar bear was a whole lot more sporting than bludgeoning a baby seal, and she was not above dreams of professional grandeur.

  But that was the attorney talking. She had certain skills and traits that served her well in her job, and those qualities had been carefully honed, valued, and promoted through intensive years of law school and practice. What she was only now coming to realize, since her near breakdown had sent her screaming to Alaska, was that in the process of becoming a damn good attorney, she had slowly been losing the rest of herself.

  There was more to Haley Olson than some robotic legal machine. There was a woman who laughed with delight to watch porpoises bow ride and sea otters romp in the waves. A woman who loved the woods but was deathly afraid of bears. A woman who could sit for hours watching the cool Alaskan sun linger over snow-capped mountains, sick at heart to know that the glaciers were melting. A child who looked out over the ocean, longing to see what was on the other side.

  She liked that Haley Olson, dammit. And she didn’t want to lose her.

  She pulled over a stack of particularly tedious work and put her head down. She would not think about the whole Stirjon / maternity leave / Bob-acting-weird thing now. She had promised Micah she would try her best to take part of Saturday and all of Sunday off this week, and she needed to do that. If she didn’t lose focus this afternoon, she could make it happen.

  She had an ulterior motive as well, one that made her heart speed up whenever she thought about it. For weeks now, Ben had been making cagey references to arranging a layover in LA on his flight back to Maui. He told her he would be in touch with details, but wouldn’t allow her to pin him down on date and time, which was suspicious. As best as she could reconstruct, he normally left Seattle right after Halloween, and today was the first of November. All day she had been darting hopeful glances toward her phone.

  Hey there, she imagined herself reading. I’ll be at LAX in three hours. Can you meet me? She had dreamed up a variety of scenarios, and every one of them made her heart flutter and her limbs fidget.

  She worked steadily for hours, hearing nothing from Ben, but resolving to stay hopeful. When at last she reached a reasonable stopping point, she didn’t hesitate to pack up for home. So what if she was leaving a little earlier than usual? She had already worked a nine-hour day.

  The drive from Irvine back to Newport Beach was painfully slow, as it always was when she joined the rest of the world for rush hour. She could cut down her commute by moving to Irvine, but couldn’t bear the thought of losing her ocean view. Besides which, in what little time she wasn’t working, the last place she wanted to be was close to the office.

  After what seemed like an eternity of stopping and starting at smoggy-smelling intersections, she finally turned into her apartment complex and parked. Daylight Saving Time was over, and it was pitch dark already. She got up
out of her car — a feat which had lately become more difficult — and looked down at her phone with disappointment. Nothing. Surely Ben wouldn’t wait until he was on the ground at LAX to call her? It could take forever to get to him if the traffic was bad. And the traffic would be bad.

  She headed for her mailbox, but opened it to see nothing but a grocery store flier. That was odd. Ben always sent her something.

  She walked toward the stairs to her apartment, head down and spirits flagging, and noticed in the lamplight a pair of men’s feet standing at her bottom step. Her head whipped up.

  “Hi, Haley.”

  Chapter 25

  It took several seconds for her to process the sight of him. He was just as tall, and just as redheaded, and just as handsome. It had been three long months since she’d last laid eyes on him, on that dreadful night when she’d left him on the porch of his cabin. He was dressed a little differently now, in cargo shorts and a short-sleeve shirt, ready for Hawaii. But he smiled at her with the same heart-melting smile, and his eyes held the same mischievous but good-natured twinkle.

  “Ben,” she breathed, unable to move.

  He took a step toward her, and her trance broke. With a cry of glee she closed the distance between them and threw herself into his arms.

  Surprisingly, she bounced back out. There was a volleyball between them. With a groan of frustration she turned her belly sideways and attached herself to him at a slant, throwing one arm around his neck while the other hugged his waist.

  Laughing merrily, he made an equal effort at accommodation. “I see Fred has grown.”

  “Just a bit,” Haley agreed, her voice muffled by his shoulder. He felt so good. She didn’t want to move. “I can’t believe you just showed up here!” she chastised, even as she continued to hold him. “You’re a rat. You misled me.”

  He laughed again. “Don’t you like surprises?”

  “Not usually,” she said honestly. “But I’ll take this one.”

  “Well, good,” he said, attempting to draw back a little. “Because I’d hate to have to drive back through all that mess again tonight.”

  Reluctantly, Haley let him go. A little. She could tell he wanted to see her face. “You rented a car?”

  He nodded. “I just got here a couple minutes ago. I didn’t know when you’d come home, but I was prepared to wait you out.”

  “You’re not…” Haley was afraid to ask. “You’re not going back tonight, then?”

  His hazel eyes sparkled at her as he shook his head. “My flight leaves Sunday morning. We’ve got all day tomorrow. If you’re free, that is.”

  “I’m free,” Haley said immediately. She didn’t give a damn what was waiting on her desk. In this instant, she couldn’t even remember what it was. “What are your plans?”

  He grinned at her again. “Well, I was kind of hoping you’d invite me inside. But if you want to stand out here all night—”

  “Shut up!” she laughed, letting go of him at last to lead him up the stairs. “Of course you can come in. You weren’t planning on paying for a hotel were you?”

  “Not if I can avoid it,” he admitted, picking up the duffel bag he’d dropped at his feet.

  “You can crash on my couch,” she decided, opening her door and stepping back to let him through. “I think you’ll like the place. I’ll even let you use my shower.”

  He grinned at her slyly and walked inside. She turned on the lights and shut the door behind them.

  As she expected, he gravitated straight to the picture window in her living room. He dropped his bag on the floor by the wall and looked out.

  “What do you think?” she asked proudly, stepping up beside him. The sweeping vista before them was a sea of twinkling lights that angled down the hill, over Balboa Island, across the boat-clogged harbor, and then over the peninsula on its other side. Beyond lay the darkness of the open ocean, broken only by the occasional glimmer of a distant ship.

  “Impressive,” he said softly, all too quickly turning back to her. She fought a stab of disappointment. Her view hadn’t seemed to dazzle him. He was more interested in looking at her. “You look good, Haley. Pregnant, but good.”

  She made a face. “Don’t try to humor me,” she ordered. “I know I’m puffing up. Micah’s all in a tizzy about preeclampsia, but so far I’m in the clear. You want something to drink?”

  He didn’t answer for a beat. “Yes,” he said finally, moving away from her towards the kitchen. “But can I get it? I appreciate the offer of your couch because I’m poor, but no way am I letting you wait on me. I’m a professional houseguest — I know how to keep the invites coming. What can I get you to drink?”

  Haley’s smile broadened. She really couldn’t stop smiling. She could hardly believe he was here. “Water’s fine,” she replied, following him. “Glasses are over the dishwasher. Take whatever you want from the fridge. Micah keeps it thoroughly stocked.”

  He smiled back as he poured her a glass of water. “I’m glad to see she’s taking care of you.”

  “So am I.” Haley took the glass, but swallowed only a sip before setting it down on the counter. She could not take her eyes off him as he moved around her kitchen, his warm-weather clothes showing off skin she’d never seen before. His biceps were strong and his long legs sinuous. Once or twice he caught her staring, and the answering sparkle in his eyes told her she was busted.

  The small talk and serving of refreshments seemed grossly inadequate.

  “Ben,” she said finally, when he had finished pouring his drink and they both walked back out to the living room. “Could you possibly do me a favor?”

  He set his glass on her end table. “Anything.”

  “Would you sit down for a minute?”

  He looked at her quizzically, but dropped down onto one end of her sectional couch.

  “Perfect,” she praised. She studied his position, then sank down sideways onto his lap and nestled her head against his shoulder. She exhaled slowly, reveling in the feel of him as his arms wrapped compliantly around her shoulders. Heaven.

  “Terribly sorry to take advantage of you in this way, Captain,” she murmured unapologetically. “But God, I’ve missed you.”

  Ben made no reply. She wondered at his expression, but couldn’t bear to lift her head long enough to see it.

  “You know,” she said dreamily, “I’ve wanted to do this ever since the day we walked into the nature center at Exit Glacier, and I saw you hug your friend Carrie. I was wicked jealous of her. I could tell you were an exceptional hugger, and I wanted a piece of the pie.”

  Ben shifted his position slightly. He cleared his throat. “I could do a hell of a lot better than this if we were more than friends, Haley.”

  A warm fire kindled in her chest, spreading upwards to flame her cheeks. She lifted her chin and looked at him. His eyes were blazing. “I’m sure you could,” she whispered. “But…”

  “But what?” he challenged.

  She sat up a bit to face him. “But the baby isn’t due until January,” she said softly, reasonably. “And it will be at least February before…”

  “I understand that,” he insisted, his hazel eyes locked on hers. “I can wait.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You’re not,” he said earnestly. “I’m telling you it’s what I want. I want you, Haley. I don’t have all the answers, but we can work it out somehow. I want you in my life, and ‘just friends’ isn’t good enough for me. Is it good enough for you?”

  Haley’s pulse pounded in her ears. Still gazing into his eyes, she raised her hand slowly to his face, just as she had tried to do in Alaska three months before. He had pulled her hand away then. This time, he sat perfectly still. She touched his cheek, then traced her fingers gently along his scratchy, not-shaved-since-this-morning jawbone. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that she loved him.

  “No,” she whispered. “Not even close.”

  Their lips me
t full force, with equal fervor and no pretense of hesitation. They devoured each other hungrily, and Haley felt herself slipping away into the most amazing bliss, the likes of which she’d never known before and of which she wanted infinitely more. He did want her. And he was hers now. All of him.

  She was sinking lower onto the couch — she could not get him close enough. She squiggled and squirmed, aching for him to close the persistently annoying distance between them, when suddenly, that distance took offense.

  Haley blinked. Ben pulled his lips from hers and laughed out loud.

  Fred was kicking the hell out of him.

  They laughed together as Ben sat upright again and lifted Haley with him. “I don’t think she likes me much,” he said tenderly.

  “She adores you,” Haley responded. “She’s just feeling a little left out.”

  He raised his hand to her face and grazed her own cheek softly with his knuckles. Then he breathed out heavily, his eyes sparkling. “Well, I guess we’ve settled that issue, more-than-friend Haley.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “We’ve also just made the next few months a hundred times more difficult for ourselves. For me, anyway. I may be less than desirable at the moment, but you look as delicious as ever, Captain.”

  His eyebrows perked. “Am I acting like you’re not desirable?”

  She chuckled. “That’s desperation talking. I look like a whale!”

  He grinned. “And?”

  Haley punched him playfully in the chest. “Bad metaphor. I look—”

  He put a finger across her lips. “You look like one of the most incredibly self-sacrificing women I’ve ever known. Next to what you’re going through, what’s a few more months of deprivation for me?” He shifted her weight from his lap and stood up.

  “A lot,” Haley replied soberly.

  He turned and leveled a grin at her. “Feel sorry for me all you want. You’re welcome to make it up to me later.”

  Haley grinned back.

  “And now,” he announced suddenly, shaking out his arms in an obvious attempt to regroup, “the main attraction.” He picked up his bag, rummaged around inside it, and extracted a brown paper lunch sack with a bulge at the bottom.