To this day the top drawer didn’t close properly. Leave it to Mariah.
He relayed the story, laughing as he told it; Vickie, however, hadn’t so much as cracked a smile.
Confused, Christian lowered his coffee mug to the table, and his laughter faded.
“Do you realize,” Vickie asked, her gaze direct and not the least amused, “that you’ve spent the entire evening talking about another woman?”
He had? No way. “Who?” he asked. Surely Vickie was exaggerating. That couldn’t possibly be true. Okay, so he’d mentioned Mariah and the filing cabinet, but the only reason he’d told Vickie about that incident was because it was so funny.
“First, I heard about the fire that destroyed Mariah’s cabin, followed by—”
“I was updating you on the news in Hard Luck,” he broke in, defending himself. “Didn’t I also tell you that Sawyer’s married and Abbey’s expecting? And I told you about Charles and Lanni, didn’t I?”
“Sure, in passing,” Vickie said, flipping a strand of hair over her shoulder. Christian had always liked her long, golden hair. Straight and silky, it reached halfway down her back.
“Then there was the story about Mariah’s luggage flying open on the runway—”
“You’re making too much of this.” Christian didn’t remember Vickie as the jealous type, but then, he didn’t really know her that well.
“I don’t hear from you in over a year, and now all of a sudden you can’t wait to take me out. I have to tell you, Christian, your suggestion that we get together is becoming suspicious to me.”
“Suspicious?”
“Like you’re trying to prove something to yourself and using me to do it.”
“Not true,” he replied in annoyance. “There’s a perfectly logical reason I haven’t been in touch. You heard we, uh, invited some women to town, didn’t you?”
“Of course I heard about it! Midnight Sons had the whole state talking.” She pinched her lips together in a show of disapproval and folded her arms. “Bringing in women! It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. What’s wrong with the women right here in Fairbanks?”
Christian wasn’t wading into that muddy pond, so he ignored the question. “Well, it explains why you didn’t hear from me,” he muttered.
“I’d have moved to Hard Luck if you’d given me a reason to.” Her look was full of meaning, and her gaze held his.
Christian swallowed. “Sure,” he said, feeling more than a little uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. “There’re plenty of single men left in Hard Luck. You’d be welcome to move to town anytime.”
She glared at him. “I’m not asking about other men,” she snapped. “I want to know about you.”
“Me?” Someone must have raised the temperature in the restaurant, because the room felt suffocatingly hot. Christian resisted the urge to ease his finger along the inside of his collar.
“Well, I’m certainly not interested in the guy who runs that café.”
“Ben.” Christian leaped on his friend’s name. “Why, he’s great.”
“Get real, O’Halloran.” The hair he’d recently admired flew back over her shoulder like a blast of gold. The glare returned full force. “What I want to know is why it was so all-fired important to call me now, especially with all those women you’ve managed to bring to Hard Luck.” The challenge was impossible to ignore.
Christian decided it would be poor timing to explain that he was hoping to kill the rumors that linked him with Mariah romantically.
“I’ve been awfully busy lately...and, well, I figured I should renew old acquaintances.”
“It wouldn’t be so bad if I hadn’t been so eager to see you,” she said, and slapped her purse on the table. “You call good ol’ Vickie, and then spend the whole evening talking about another woman.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said stubbornly.
She sent him a disgusted look, then slid out of the booth.
“What are you doing?” Christian was stunned; she was leaving.
Vickie offered him a bright smile. “I’m going home.”
“I’ll drive you.” She appeared to find his company objectionable, but to leave the diner without him added insult to injury.
“No, thanks,” she said stiffly.
Christian hurriedly paid for the coffee and followed Vickie out of the diner. “What did I do that was so terrible?” It was embarrassing, but he suspected he was actually whining. He’d never had this kind of trouble with a woman before.
Vickie had changed in the past year; then again, maybe she wasn’t the only one. Christian had the distinct feeling he’d done some changing of his own.
“What did you do?” Vickie echoed, standing outside the coffee shop. She sighed loudly. “Listen, you’re a great guy, but whatever there was between us is over—and was a long time ago. I guess I needed this date to prove to myself how over you I am. It’s also pretty clear that you’re crazy about Mariah.”
Out of habit, Christian opened his mouth to deny everything, but Vickie didn’t give him the opportunity.
“I don’t know exactly what you were trying to prove, but I resent being used.”
“No need to get on your high horse. If you don’t want to go out with me again, fine. But at least let me drive you home.” It was a matter of pride, if nothing else.
Vickie agreed, and they rode silently back to her apartment complex. When he parked, she turned to face him. “I hope you manage to work everything out with Mariah.”
Christian didn’t bother to correct her. He wasn’t “crazy about” Mariah or involved with her or anything else, but he’d be wasting his breath to tell Vickie that.
“Promise me one thing,” she said.
“Sure.”
“Send me a wedding invitation. I’d like to meet the woman who tagged you.”
This time Christian couldn’t stop himself. “I’m not marrying Mariah!”
He wanted to shout it again. He wasn’t marrying her—was he? Yes, he found her attractive. Yes, he’d kissed her and wouldn’t mind doing it again. But that didn’t mean marriage. It shouldn’t. True, he felt protective of her, but that was because...because he felt responsible. Wasn’t it?
Vickie laughed softly and patted his cheek. “You protest far too much. Just remember what I said. I want an invitation to the wedding.”
* * *
First thing Monday morning, Mariah took out the file of applications Christian had collected the previous year. She was reading through the stack of them when he arrived.
“Morning,” he said curtly, refusing to meet her eyes.
“Morning,” she returned, her mood matching his.
The coffee was brewed and ready, but she didn’t pour him a mug. He could darn well get his own, she decided. Either he was unwilling to do that or not interested, because he sat down at his desk and immediately turned on his computer.
“How’d your big date go?” she couldn’t refrain from asking. This penchant for emotional pain was probably something she should investigate. Besides, even if he’d had a perfectly miserable evening, he’d never let her know.
“Fine,” he growled. “Has Ralph been in yet?”
“No,” she answered.
Christian glanced at her and seemed surprised by her terse reply. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Not a thing,” she assured him sweetly. She refused to give him cause for complaint, and every time he looked her way she made sure she was the picture of contentment. Not that he looked over very often.
Whatever was on the computer screen commanded his full attention. He sat up straight in his chair and peered at it for long minutes. Finally, without lifting his eyes, he asked abruptly, “Where’s Ted?”
“Don’t know.”
“I’m going over to the bunkhouse to see if I can find him.”
“I thought you asked about Ralph.”
“Nope, I need to see Ted.” He left as if it was a dire emergency.
He didn’t close down his computer, and out of curiosity, Mariah got up to look at his screen. He’d been reviewing the flight schedule for the week. The mail runs into Fairbanks were made on a rotation basis. Ralph had made the run the previous week, but Ted was scheduled to do it this week.
Ted appeared in the office soon afterward wearing a forlorn expression. “Christian asked me to tell you he’ll be going into Fairbanks this morning.”
Mariah made a note of the change. “Thanks, Ted.”
So Christian was interested in flying into Fairbanks. That could mean only one thing.
He’d be seeing Vickie again.
* * *
Karen Caldwell sang quietly to herself as she placed the Noah’s-ark stencil along the bottom of the freshly painted wall. The baby’s nursery was coming along nicely. She felt a constant undercurrent of excitement these days. Preparing the room, buying clothes, reading infant-care books—it all made the baby seem so real.
“Karen.” Matt’s voice boomed from the lobby.
“In here,” she shouted over her shoulder. Unfolding her legs, she got to her feet, eager to talk to her husband. All at once, the room started to spin and she promptly sat down again.
Matt must’ve seen what happened because he rushed in. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
She smiled up at his worried face, loving him all the more for his concern. “Nothing. I’m fine. I guess I just stood up too quickly.”
“Getting dizzy like that—are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. “What about the baby?”
“It happens to everyone now and then, not just pregnant women.”
“You’re sure?” he asked again. He didn’t sound like he believed her.
“Positive.”
He still didn’t look reassured. “I’d feel better if Dotty checked you out.”
“All right,” she agreed, “but after lunch.” Her appetite had increased lately, and Karen suspected her body was making up for the weight she’d lost during her first months of pregnancy, when she’d been so ill.
“Actually,” she told him as he led the way into the kitchen, “I feel wonderful.” Working on the nursery made the baby’s birth seem so close. The crib and other furniture had arrived a few days earlier, and they’d assembled everything over the weekend.
“You look wonderful,” her husband told her. He gazed at her intently, then the worried expression fled his eyes and they softened with love.
Karen went about making toasted cheese sandwiches while Matt opened a can of soup. “I have a feeling we’re going to lose Mariah soon,” Matt said as if the subject was on his mind.
Karen had been thinking the same thing. “I blame Christian for that. I swear that man left his brains behind somewhere.”
“He’s a stubborn one, that’s for sure.”
“You should know,” Karen teased.
Matt made a show of protesting. He moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle, splaying his hands across her abdomen. “How come Abbey and Sawyer get an ultrasound and we don’t?”
“Because I’m under thirty-five, so the doctor didn’t think it was necessary. Besides, I’d rather be surprised by the baby’s sex.”
“Sawyer passed around the picture of the ultrasound at Ben’s this morning, proud as could be over a few blurry lines.” Matt sounded a little wistful.
“Do you want a picture to pass around, too?” she asked sympathetically.
He nuzzled her neck. “I guess I do.”
“I can ask the doctor at my next appointment. But, Matt, I’d really prefer not to know if we’re having a boy or a girl until the baby’s born. Okay?”
“Okay.” He spread kisses down the side of her neck.
Karen yawned unexpectedly. Every afternoon, like clockwork, she slept a good hour, sometimes two. Again she suspected this was her body’s way of regaining strength after the first turbulent months of her pregnancy.
“I wish there was something I could do for Mariah,” Karen said as she carried the sandwiches to the table.
Matt emptied the soup into two bowls. “I don’t know what. She has to make her own decisions, just like Christian does.”
“Maybe you could talk to him.”
“Not a chance! He’s got two brothers, but I imagine they feel the same way about all this as we do. If it’s anyone’s business to say something to Christian, it’s theirs. I tried to help Lanni’s romance with Charles along and—”
“You did? When?”
“Last year about this time. It didn’t work, and I got myself into hot water with my sister. No one appreciates unsolicited advice.”
“So what can we do?” Karen asked. She really felt for Mariah.
“Nothing.”
“But—”
“I know, sweetheart, but it’s not our affair, and neither Christian nor Mariah would appreciate our interference.”
Sadly Karen acknowledged that he was right.
* * *
Christian knew Mariah was upset about something the minute he returned from the flight into Fairbanks. If ever there’d been a time he needed to think straight, this morning was it. That was why he’d taken the mail run from Ted.
Mariah had snapped at him earlier, and now she glared at him like a mother bear protecting her cubs—or, maybe, hoping to feed them. One glance told him the only way he was going to walk away whole would be to run for cover.
“I’m back,” he said unnecessarily.
She responded by scowling at him.
He tried again, ignoring her bad mood. “Where’s Sawyer?” His older brother was more accustomed to dealing with women, irrational creatures that they were; he could use Sawyer’s help here. He sighed. First Vickie and now Mariah. And to think, he’d been the one to suggest bringing women to town.
“Sawyer’s out,” was the only response she gave him.
“Did he happen to mention where he was going?” he asked tentatively.
“Yes.”
Mariah seemed to forget he was her employer. Just because he’d practically kissed her feet when she’d agreed to come back didn’t mean she could get uppity with him.
“Do you have any objection to telling me where my brother is?” he asked, hardening his voice.
“None. He said he was going home for lunch.”
Sawyer had been doing that more often lately. If Christian had been aware of the time, he could probably have figured it out himself.
“Thank you,” he said coolly. He sat down at his desk and discovered a number of employment applications lying across the surface. The very ones he’d read through a dozen times the week before. The very ones he’d rejected.
“What are these for?” he asked in a way that would inform her his patience wasn’t limitless.
“You didn’t seem in any hurry to hire my replacement,” she said without emotion, “so I took the liberty of contacting a few of the applicants myself.”
He opened his mouth to object and realized he couldn’t. She was right; he wasn’t in any hurry to replace her. He told himself it was because he couldn’t handle the idea of training a new secretary; it seemed beyond him. Perhaps he was being unfair to Mariah, but he’d hoped that in time she’d decide to come back permanently. Then everything would return to the way it used to be.
“I guess you found a number of suitable applicants,” he said, gesturing at his desk.
“I called all of those. I offered the position to Libby Bozeman, who’s accepted. She’ll arrive in Hard Luck a week Friday. I printed up the contract and faxed it to her.”
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“You hired her?”
Mariah’s back stiffened. “Yes. As I mentioned earlier, you didn’t seem to be in a hurry to replace me, so I took matters into my own hands.”
“Does Sawyer know?”
“Yes, and he approved Libby.”
“I see.” Christian knew when he was beaten. He leafed through the papers until he found Libby’s application. As he read over the simple form, it shocked him to see how naive they’d been going into this project. He’d requested only the most basic information. He hadn’t even asked for references.
“She looks suitable.” For the life of him, Christian couldn’t remember interviewing her.
“I talked to five or six of the other applicants this morning,” Mariah told him in that prim voice of hers. He could always tell when she was put out, because her voice dipped several degrees below freezing.
“Mrs. Bozeman seemed the most qualified.”
“She’s married?”
“No, but she was—until recently.”
“Was she married last year when I interviewed her?”
“Apparently so.”
“I see.” He did remember her now, and if his memory served him correctly, she was very qualified. Libby Bozeman was a tall, attractive woman, perhaps in her forties; she knew her mind and had no problem speaking it. A no-nonsense woman. Mariah had chosen well.
“If you have no objection, I’ll have an airline ticket sent to her.”
“None whatsoever,” Christian returned in the same crisp tones.
Neither spoke for several minutes. Then, because he had to know, Christian asked. “What about you? Where will you go?” He wondered how Ben felt about taking her back. The café owner was fond of Mariah—for that matter, so was Christian—but it hadn’t worked before and he doubted Mariah would be willing to try again.
“Where will I go?” Mariah repeated softly as if considering the question for the first time.
Christian stopped himself from making several suggestions, all of which would keep her in Hard Luck.
She looked up at him, and it seemed her eyes were brighter than normal. Slowly she released her breath, and when she spoke her voice faltered slightly. “Somewhere I won’t ever have to see you again, Christian O’Halloran.”
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