In the first place, how did she know he’d even want that? And in the second, she couldn’t want that. I’m afraid of falling for him. Of opening myself up—I could get hurt. And what about my career? I’ve worked so hard to get where I am.
She curled onto her side beneath a pile of blankets and hugged Colby’s Santa hat, which still smelled of him. Lulled by off-key carols and the faint male laughter drifting from the rec room, drowsiness overtook her. From the sound of things, quite a few guys were still awake. It wasn’t any old masculine voice catching her attention, though. Only Colby’s.
Had it really been only a few hours since all his laughs had been for her?
Squeezing her eyes tight, for what she promised herself would be the last time, she imagined herself with him. Maybe in Global’s festive rec room? Or that cozy cabin of his he’d talked about? Shoot, since it was her fantasy, she even tried imagining him in her ultra-feminine Chicago apartment. But try as she might, she just couldn’t see brawny Colby Davis at home on her turf.
No, he belonged up here in the wild. Alaska suited him. Just as she knew deep in her heart that it didn’t suit her.
Besides, what they shared wasn’t real. It had been a magical night based on the fact that they’d both thought they were going to die. Because of that, they’d both said and done things that under ordinary circumstances, they never otherwise would. How did she even know the feelings he’d evoked in her were real?
Bottom line, Rose thought, as she clutched the covers higher around her neck, was that the depth of her feelings for Colby was scary. The easiest way to avoid having to explore those feelings was to ignore them.
She’d return to her world. Colby would return to his. And, with any luck, the two of them would never meet again. As painful as that might be, it was the only sane conclusion.
For very sound reasons, she’d distrusted men for most of her life. Why on earth would she trade that wealth of emotional knowledge for one idyllic night, that under ordinary circumstances, would never have happened?
“GUESS THIS IS it,” Colby said to Rose in early March, not sure what else to say in the few minutes before she had to go through security and board her commercial flight bound for Chicago. When she’d called and asked him, in a painfully polite voice, to fly her from the oil site to Anchorage, he’d agreed—against his better judgment. After picking her up in a rented Aviat, he’d spent an awkward couple of hours trying his damnedest not to brush his arms against hers or to inhale the familiar floral scent of her shampoo. Or was it her soap?
Either way, she smelled like the daffodil bouquets he used to pick for his mom. He hadn’t thought about the memory in years. He missed her. It pained him to admit that if he was honest with himself, he’d also miss Rose.
At the Anchorage airport, she hadn’t wanted him to escort her to the security gates, but he’d insisted, needing to make sure she made the short trip safely.
The knot in his stomach told a different story. What he’d really needed was to make sure she left the state and his head. With her finally back in the lower forty-eight, he wouldn’t find himself constantly rethinking their crazy night. The way she’d felt in his arms. The way he’d liked being her protector. The way she’d turned him down cold for a date.
Yeah, the sooner she walked her sweet ass onto a plane headed away from him, the better.
“Thanks. For everything.” Pausing in front of the security line, she held out her hand for him to shake.
With their palms pressed as close as their bodies had been, Colby fought a renewed rush of attraction. How could one simple touch bring back so much? The smoothness of her skin. The heat of her breath on his lips just before he kissed her. The heavy swell of her warm breasts in his hands as her nipples hardened against his palms.
He shook his head. This had to stop.
For whatever reason, the lady didn’t have the hots for him like he had for her—or, correction, had had. His momma didn’t raise no fool. Ever since Rose had given him the cold shoulder the night of their rescue, he’d told himself to stop thinking about her. The instant she left his airspace, forgetting her would be a whole lot easier.
She’d be back in Chicago.
He’d be back at work.
With luck, he’d never, ever, see her again.
“Thanks for what?” he asked upon releasing her hand.
She shrugged before turning his insides to mush with the sweetest, saddest grin.
Were tears shimmering in her eyes?
She swallowed hard. “Thanks for just being you, Colby Davis.”
For a second, he thought she was going to follow that cryptic statement with a hug, but she didn’t. A guy in a suit gruffly asked if he could cut past her in line. And just like that, the moment was gone, and so was she.
Chapter Four
COLBY USED THE tail of his red flannel shirt to wipe sweat from his abs, but then figured, what the hell? Days like this were a gift from the Alaskan gods, so he went ahead and removed the garment, tossing it onto the dock. Hot July sun warmed his chest as he buffed the left wing of his new girl, Janine—a 2011 Cessna Caravan he’d gotten an outrageous deal on due to the previous owner’s divorce.
Reason? The usual. Poor guy’s wife hated Alaska.
Hated eternal sun and bugs in summer, eternal darkness and snow in winter.
Too bad she hadn’t stuck around to see today.
Not a cloud within five hundred miles. A hint of a breeze sighing through the spruce, stirring the lake just enough to shoot diamonds off the choppy waves lapping the underside of the stubby dock.
And the smell.
Sweet holy Mary, there was nothing quite like the smell of Kodiak Lake baking in the sun. The musky, mossy, fishy blend made his mouth water just thinking about all those trout he planned on catching next weekend. Of course, since today was Saturday, his much-anticipated weekend off was still another whole week away. He put his back into buffing the finish his new owner’s manual called Matterhorn White.
From across the lake flashed a glint of white sun on glass. A dust cloud billowed behind a fast-moving red pickup. Henry. With luck, he was delivering that box of reworked parts Colby was supposed to fly out to the Global Oil site this afternoon.
Kneeling to slap the lid on his can of wax, Colby smiled. It was good to be back in his routine. Transporting tourists to the best fishing spots. Bringing supplies and mail to the Global site and to the smattering of Kodiak Gorge citizens who lived on the edge of civilization but still had an occasional hankering to read the Miami Sun Herald or eat Virginia ham.
Back on his feet, heading for his office, Colby noted that Henry was nearly there—not that the chug-glugging of his cantankerous old Ford hadn’t already announced that fact. Every winter, Henry tucked the truck into his shed. And every winter there were bets on whether or not the heap would start back up come spring.
This particular winter being so harsh, Colby had been among those betting that this would be the year the old truck finally gave up the ghost. But to the contrary, much like Henry himself, it had come back louder and smellier than ever. Smoking and belching, the vehicle startled a flock of geese into honking flight as it rounded the swampy area at the lake’s south end.
Colby grinned.
Yep, it’d been a long winter, but summer had finally come, along with an end to all his waiting.
Waiting for insurance money to come through. Waiting for his mom to stop calling every day to make sure he was okay. Waiting to find a new plane. Worst of all, waiting for the guys around town to lay off with the wolf whistles.
Okay, so he’d been caught with his pants down, but it wasn’t like ninety percent of the gang hanging out at Kodiak Lodge wouldn’t have done the same had they found themselves in a similar situation.
After all, Rose was beautiful, intelligent and funny. She wore her raven-wing hair long and a little wild. Her nose crinkled when she laughed. And those eyes—big and brown—were shot with intriguing amber flecks even his dim flashlight had
picked up.
After the guys had rescued them, she’d had about the same initial reaction he’d had—jubilation at first, then embarrassment, then shock. In the hour it had taken to deliver her and all her junk food to the oil site, they’d said a whole five words.
She’d chosen a seat well away from him on Brody’s plane, making it painfully clear that what they’d shared—whatever it was—wasn’t only over, but that it never should’ve happened. That only made him grumpier, since she was the one who’d practically begged him not to let her die an almost-virgin.
Lucky for him, she was thousands of miles away. Right where she belonged. Right where he hoped she’d stay. Not that he’d given their encounter much thought.
After all, it had just been a night. An ordinary night. Crash a plane. Make love five or six times. Nothing too earth-shattering there.
Henry blared the red Ford’s horn, jolting Colby from his downright unacceptable memories. Fanning himself with a box flap, he blamed the day’s sunshine for dredging up all that heat.
Shrouded in a cloud of dust, the truck stopped a mere two feet from the lake’s edge. The sun’s glare on the Ford’s tinted windows prevented Colby from seeing most of the truck’s interior. “How’re things?” Henry shouted out the open driver’s side window with a wave of his beat-up fedora.
“Couldn’t be better.” Colby set his box filled with waxing supplies on a dock post. “Been to the clinic yet about your arthritis?”
Henry shooed off the question.
“You do know they have medicine to help?”
“Damned horse pills. Save your mothering for someone who needs it.”
Colby grinned. Looked like he’d be taking Henry to the doctor himself. “You bring those parts for Global?”
“What parts?” Henry turned off the engine, then eased open his door.
The geese that had only just settled down about a quarter mile down the road started honking again.
“What do you mean, what parts?” Colby asked, shrugging into his shirt. “Global hired you to rework them two weeks ago. You promised to have them to me no later than today—coincidentally, the same day I promised them to Global.”
Henry waved him off. “What I brought is way more fun than some old parts. Got dropped off at the lodge last night. Think that fella Vic, out of Anchorage, was the one making the delivery.”
“Oh yeah?” Hand to his forehead, shading his eyes from the glare, Colby said, “Unless you happen to have a million bucks stashed in there with my name on it, I’d just as soon have Global’s parts.”
Henry turned to the truck and hollered, “You ever plannin’ on getting out?”
The squeal of the rusty passenger door sent the geese into such a commotion that they took off for the far end of the lake.
“Come on over,” Henry shouted. “I promise Colby won’t bite.”
WON’T BITE?
Actually, if her memory served correctly, Colby had taken more than a few lusty nips that steamy December night. Not that Rose had thought about their time together since then—unless, of course, those thoughts concerned her current situation. And in that case, thinking of him was not only understandable, but advisable.
To a certain extent.
Forcing a deep breath, tucking her long hair neatly behind her ears she pushed her considerable mass off the truck’s seat and onto the ground, trying to be swanlike but feeling more like a one-legged loon.
She took her time stepping out from the shield of the truck’s door, unprepared for the impact of seeing Colby again.
Sooner than she would’ve liked, she was struggling to conquer her runaway heart and sweating palms. And all because Colby Davis stood backdropped by snow-capped mountains and a blazing blue sky, looking way better than any man should.
Tall and lean and tan and… Oh my.
She licked her lips, willing her fingertips to stop tingling as she remembered running them up and down his abs.
Forcing her gaze higher, she landed in serious trouble. Trouble tinted Gulf of Alaska green. He was staring at her as though, rather than your average very pregnant woman, she was an alien creature beamed down from a galaxy far, far away.
Easing her lips into a smile, she said, “Um, hi, Colby. Long time no see, huh?”
He grinned as if laughing at a private joke, then shook his head, looking down while kicking the gravel at his feet.
She took a few tentative steps forward, left hand on her seven-month-pregnant stomach, the other smoothing windswept hair off her cheek to tuck it behind her ear. “How have you been?”
“Oh, no,” he said, taking equal steps back, warding her off with outstretched hands. “Don’t tell me I’m—I mean, we, I mean—” There he went again with that brilliant, white-toothed smile. The one she’d replayed a thousand times in her head—strictly for informational purposes. After all, she did need to periodically apprise herself of her unborn child’s future dental health. “Wow. Guess I’m not quite sure what I’m trying to say.”
Rose turned to Henry. “Thanks for the ride, but you can go ahead and leave. Looks like this might take a while.”
“You sure?” the wiry old guy said. “I don’t mind stayin’. This here’s way better than anything happening on my soaps.”
Rose felt silly for having to swallow back tears.
What had she expected? Harps playing in the trees and little blue booties falling from Heaven upon her arrival?
It wasn’t as if she’d returned to Kodiak Gorge looking for a husband, or even a father for her child. All she’d wanted to do before she got too far along to travel was inform Colby that he was going to be a dad.
Period.
He could handle the news as he pleased. She was more than happy to arrange a mutually agreeable visitation schedule. It wasn’t her intention to ever keep him from his son, but the fact remained that she and Colby were strangers who had happened to make a baby. That reality tied them together for life, but it didn’t mean they had to be together.
Rose parked herself on a rough-hewn log bench paralleling the dock while Colby followed Henry to his truck. He mumbled a few choice-sounding yet unintelligible phrases, then just stood there, hands in his pockets, watching his friend drive off.
He turned back to her just as a breeze whipped up off the lake, catching the flaps of the box sitting on a dock post.
By the time it occurred to Rose that the box didn’t look all that stable, it’d already tumbled into the water.
“Oops,” Rose mumbled, looking forward to the day when her reaction-time once again matched her thoughts. As efficiently as possible, she pushed herself off the bench and knelt on the edge of the dock, hoping to snatch one of the flaps before the whole thing sank.
“Here, let me get it.” Colby jogged onto the dock.
He beat her to the box, but just as he grabbed it, so did she. Before she could find her center of gravity, she’d begun a free fall into the water.
A screech prefaced her splash, and while she wasn’t at risk of drowning because she knew perfectly well how to swim, she was shocked by the water’s icy chill.
A second later came another splash, as Colby jumped in after her, which was ludicrous, since she’d only landed in water barely up to her chest. Still, when he wrapped his arms around her to tow her to shore, she didn’t complain.
“Thanks,” she said as he helped her slosh onto the grass, the padded insoles of her black pumps squishing. A picnic table sat beside a boulder that had bright blue forget-me-nots blooming from every crack and crevice. “T-t-hat’s p-pretty.” Her teeth were already chattering.
Colby unfastened his jeans to reveal black boxers dotted with gray airplanes.
“W-what are you d-doing?” she asked.
“What’s it look like I’m doing? Taking off these jeans so I can go inside and put on new ones. You’re doing the same with that uptight business suit.”
“Really, Colby, I’m fine. It’s such a nice day. I’ll just dry off in the s-sun.�
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He shot her stomach a look. “We made a baby together, and now you’re worried about me seeing some skin?”
“The baby—it’s a boy.”
Looking to the sky, he swiped his fingers through the glistening waves of his hair, then shook his head while his face erupted in a huge smile. “A son? I’m having a son?”
She nodded.
“At first, I was—hell, I didn’t know what I was feeling. But to think that inside you is a mini-person with maybe my momma’s eyes and my cravings for flapjacks with extra butter and syrup, and my love of basketball, and—” He looked to where she stood shivering by the water’s edge. “Listen to me, rambling when you and my son are freezing. Come on, woman, take off those clothes.”
“I don’t think so.”
“It’s not as if we haven’t seen each other before. By the end of the day we’ll be walking down the aisle together. Don’t turn prude on me now.”
“Considering how bossy you’ve become, I wouldn’t walk down the road with you, let alone any aisles.” She shivered, at which point he took the matter out of her hands by scooping her off her feet and into his arms. “What are you doing?” she asked after a shriek.
“Getting my son into a hot shower.”
IN THE GLORIFIED toolshed-turned-office where Colby occasionally crashed after returning from late flights, he found Rose a new outfit, complete with thick white socks. He offered her a pair of dry boxers, but she’d politely declined before locking herself in the bathroom.
Dressed in dry jeans and a green Kodiak Lodge T-shirt, Colby sat on a stool at the counter of his kitchenette, staring toward the tiny bathroom.
The shower went off. His mind’s eye saw Rose all steamy and fresh-scrubbed, breasts full, stomach ripe with his son.
His son!
He couldn’t wait to teach his kid to fly and fish and play hockey and—well, granted he’d have to get the kid out of diapers before trying any of that, but now that Rose was moving back, there’d be plenty of time to hash out his son’s already busy schedule.
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