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by Debbie Macomber


  “I know. I saw that right away. Obviously I wasn’t thinking when I went in.”

  “Then you were gone.”

  “I meant to leave as soon as I realized what was happening to you, but then you seemed to recover. So I waited till it was nearly over and came out here.”

  She nodded, breathing in his scent. He wore a bay-rum aftershave that made her think whimsically of pirates with rakish smiles and sparkling Caribbean seas.

  “You’re good, sweetheart. I always knew you could argue better than any woman I’d ever met—or any man for that matter—but when you’re standing in front of a jury box, you’re something to behold.”

  She was tempted to laugh and weep. “You certainly know how to sweet-talk a woman when you have to, Duke.”

  “That’s no bull, Trace. You’re a good attorney.”

  “Thank you.” But she hadn’t even gotten up to half speed! If he could see her when she really hit her stride...

  “Will you go to dinner with me?” he asked.

  “When?”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yes,” she answered, unable to hide her eagerness. “If you want, you can pick me up at my office. I generally don’t get out of there until after six.”

  “Fine. I’ll see you then.” He kissed her forehead. His lips lingered against her skin. When he released her, it seemed hard for him to let her go.

  Evening couldn’t come soon enough to suit Tracy.

  “I’ll be there by six,” Duke promised.

  Tracy knew that their embrace had attracted attention. Many of the people who knew her stared with undisguised curiosity, but Tracy didn’t care.

  Duke started toward the elevator.

  “Duke,” she called, and he turned around. “It’s great to see you.”

  He grinned and brushed the hair from his brow. “You, too.”

  She watched him board the elevator while her mind spun with gleeful excitement. Duke in Seattle. And she’d be seeing him again that very evening.

  “Who’s the hunk?” Janice Cooper, her friend and colleague, had strolled to her side.

  “A friend.”

  “He must be some friend if you practically run into his arms. Weren’t you the one who insisted all men are animals but some of them make nice pets?”

  “This one’s special,” was all Tracy would admit. To say anything more would be to give herself away. Although she supposed she’d already done that...

  “He must be,” Janice added with a hefty sigh of envy. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look this happy.”

  So it showed. Well, Tracy mused, she obviously wasn’t very good at hiding her feelings. Somehow she didn’t care.

  “He looks the rough-and-ready type,” Janice continued, “not the type you usually go for, like Gavin. What makes this one so special?”

  “You mean other than the fact that he saved my life?”

  Janice whistled. “That was Duke Porter?”

  “The one and only.”

  “But I thought he lived in Alaska.”

  “He does.”

  “I suggest you find whatever it is that man’s got so we can bottle it. Most of the men I’ve met in the past ten years could use a solid dose of this guy.”

  Tracy chuckled, but Janice was right. The men she’d dated fell sadly short on the masculinity index. Duke’s muscles weren’t built in any gym and what was left of his tan came from the sun. He had the instincts and the natural confidence to cope with any situation. He had courage. He knew who he was, without needing psychiatrists, self-help manuals or courses on finding his inner child.

  Duke Porter was as genuine as they came.

  * * *

  Duke studied his reflection in the store mirror and barely recognized himself. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d worn a suit. His father’s funeral, probably, more than fifteen years ago. It was the same suit he’d worn to his graduation. And his mother’s second wedding.

  “What do you think?” The salesman circled him like a buzzard, closing in for the kill. The man knew a sale when he smelled one.

  Duke checked the price tag dangling from the end of the jacket sleeve. And groaned. Five hundred bucks for a suit seemed an awful lot just to be properly dressed to take Tracy out to dinner. When he’d called to make reservations at the hotel’s fancy dining room, he’d been informed a tie was required “for the gentlemen.” A tie? For dinner? He wondered what they served that was so almighty special that a man was expected to dress up for the experience.

  “You can have the alterations finished in an hour?” Duke asked. The sale was contingent on that.

  “Yes, of course, for a small fee.”

  Duke would bet the fee was anything but small, but he had no choice. A man didn’t take a city girl like Tracy to dinner just anywhere. For reasons he didn’t want to question, he found it important to prove he was as classy as any of the men she routinely dated. True, he preferred to eat at a comfortable place like the Hard Luck Café, but he could hold his own in her sophisticated big-city world.

  By the time five-thirty rolled around, Duke Porter’s new look was complete. A woman in a beauty shop had cut and blow-dried his hair—Duke hoped the guys back in Hard Luck didn’t hear about that. He’d shaved and splashed on some new cologne—a lot of lawyers bought it, the saleswoman told him. If his clean-cut looks didn’t affect Tracy, then maybe the cologne would do the trick. He was wearing his new suit and silk tie, his new shoes, and carrying a lightweight raincoat over his right arm. Assessing himself in the hotel mirror, Duke decided he looked good. Like a million bucks—but then he’d invested nearly that much in the cause. Tracy was worth it, though. He trusted she’d appreciate the effort.

  He arrived at her office building. The outside might have been a bit stark and forbidding, but the interior was posh, richly decorated in mauves and grays. The way Duke figured it, if they could afford to put leather sofas in the waiting room, the firm would be too pricey for the likes of him.

  A smartly dressed receptionist unlocked the door and smiled at him. She wore her coat and looked ready to leave for the night.

  “I’m here for Tracy Santiago,” he said.

  “Mr. Porter?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “She’s waiting for you.”

  Duke followed the receptionist down the narrow hallway to Tracy’s office. She glanced back at him several times.

  “Mr. Porter’s here,” the woman announced to Tracy, then left—reluctantly, it seemed to Duke.

  Tracy rose from her desk with a welcoming smile. But the minute her eyes landed on him her grin faded and her jaw dropped. “Duke?” she asked, squinting. “Is that you?”

  “Hey, I thought you’d like my fancy duds.” He held out his right arm and rotated, giving her an eyeful of what five-hundred-plus bucks could buy in this town.

  “I can’t believe... You look so different,” she murmured. Shaking her head, she brought her hands to her mouth. “I can’t believe it.”

  “You mean you don’t like it?” He’d be pretty disappointed if that was the case.

  “Like it—yes, of course. It’s just that you don’t...look like you.”

  He frowned. “Then who do I look like?” He’d never known Tracy to be flustered—other than this afternoon, when he’d surprised her in court. Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t exactly sure how he’d expected her to react. She wasn’t the type to gush all over him, although, in a way, he supposed he would’ve liked that.

  She walked around from behind her desk. “You’re probably the handsomest best-dressed man I’ve ever seen.”

  The tension eased from Duke’s shoulders. Handsomest, best-dressed—now, those were compliments he could live with.

  “You look pretty good yourself,
sweetheart.”

  If he didn’t know better, Duke would’ve sworn Tracy blushed. He peered at her carefully—yup, she was definitely blushing. He hadn’t thought the man existed who was capable of cracking this woman’s composure, least of all him.

  The blush added a tinge of pink to her cheeks, and before he could consider the wisdom of kissing her, Duke stepped closer and lowered his mouth to hers. Tracy angled her head and moaned softly.

  Duke’s heart boomed like thunder, and he deepened the kiss. After a moment he drew back, trying to clear his head. This wasn’t the time or the place for kissing her. “I made dinner reservations,” he said in a hoarse voice.

  Tracy moistened her lips and lowered her eyes. “I’ll get my purse and be ready in just a minute.” She reached for her jacket, but Duke took it from her hands.

  “Allow me,” he said, awkwardly holding it open for her.

  She smiled and slipped her arms into the sleeves. “Thank you.”

  He nodded and resisted the urge to kiss her again. The evening was going to be a test of his restraint if they continued like this. The fact was, he’d prefer to skip dinner altogether and spend the evening making love to her. He found the picture that came to his mind so enticing he had to stop and inhale several deep breaths.

  Tracy’s office was close to the hotel, so they walked the short distance, holding hands. When he mentioned the name of the restaurant, she arched her brows. “The Rose Garden is one of the most elegant places in town.”

  “I figured it must be,” he said nonchalantly.

  The restaurant was on the top floor of the hotel. They rode the elevator up the outside of the building and watched Seattle grow smaller. Tracy pointed out Elliot Bay and Puget Sound.

  “I’ve only been here once,” Tracy said. “The food was great, but—” she hesitated and dropped her voice “—very expensive.”

  “Don’t worry,” he whispered, “I can afford it.”

  He nearly changed his mind when he read the prices listed on the menu. Even Alaska didn’t charge a man ten bucks for a cup of coffee. He wasn’t sure he liked the atmosphere, either. Men running around in fancy dress was one thing, but having the waiter place his napkin in his lap was another. There were some things a man preferred to do on his own.

  “What are you having?” Tracy asked. Her eyes met his above the menu.

  Duke was a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy. Always had been, always would be. He read the list of dishes offered and couldn’t find anything he’d seriously consider eating. Alligator. Pheasant. Frog’s legs. Snails. Duck. The one item that interested him was salmon, but he could have that in Alaska anytime he wanted without paying an exorbitant price. Good grief, there were only so many ways to cook a fish.

  “Have you decided?” he asked.

  A waiter stiffly approached their table, his nose leveled toward the ceiling. He held a pen and pad in his hand and looked distinctly unfriendly. “The special this evening is palomillo à la parrilla.” He paused. “And may I ask the wine steward to discuss our wine list with you?”

  “I believe we’ll need a few more minutes,” Duke said. “And no, thanks, to the wine—I’ll just have a beer.”

  “Me, too,” Tracy said, mentioning the name of a local microbrewery.

  The waiter seemed not to hear them.

  With precision movements, he pivoted and walked away.

  “I wouldn’t mind a salad,” Tracy said.

  Duke thought he’d be safe if he ordered the same thing. “That sounds good,” he said, and set aside the menu.

  Tracy ordered the salade printanière Monte Carlo.

  “I’d like a salad, as well,” he said, looking the waiter in the eye although he nearly had to stand on the seat of his chair to do so. “But all I want is some lettuce and maybe a few other vegetables sliced over it.”

  “Celery and radishes?” the waiter suggested.

  “Fine.” Duke was easy to please.

  “Alfalfa sprouts?”

  “That’s fine, too,” he said, and smiled over at Tracy.

  “Asparagus?”

  Duke nodded.

  “In other words you’ll have the salade printanière Monte Carlo?”

  “Exactly,” Duke said as if he’d known that all along. He was beginning to think this waiter wasn’t interested in receiving a tip.

  “Very well, sir.”

  Duke returned his attention to Tracy.

  “Might I suggest the scallion vinaigrette dressing for your salads?” the man continued.

  “Please,” Tracy answered.

  “I prefer ranch dressing.”

  The man’s nose angled even higher. “I’m afraid we don’t carry ranch dressing.”

  “Blue cheese then.”

  The waiter sighed, clearly disapproving of Duke’s choice. “As you wish.”

  As soon as he left the table, Tracy smothered a laugh. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was just thinking of that waiter working at the Hard Luck Café.” She giggled. “He wouldn’t last five minutes.”

  Duke grinned. “At least Ben serves ranch dressing.”

  “Speaking of Ben, how is he?”

  “Doing great. He recently hired a chef, Mrs. McMurphy—”

  “A woman?” Tracy asked, elevating an eyebrow.

  “Is there something wrong with that?” Duke asked.

  “Of course not! It just surprises me. I didn’t think Ben was the type who’d let another person in his kitchen—particularly not a woman.”

  “We Alaska men are a lot more fair-minded than you give us credit for,” Duke said, pretending to be insulted. But his eyes caught hers, and soon they were both smiling.

  A few minutes later, their drinks came in crystal glasses and their salads arrived under silver-domed lids. Duke had eaten plenty of lettuce in his day, but he’d never seen anything so artfully arranged. The asparagus fanned out like a starburst in the middle of the plate. It looked almost too pretty to eat.

  “No wonder the prices are so high,” he murmured, staring at the vegetables on the gold-rimmed china plate.

  “It tastes even better than it looks,” Tracy promised, and she was right.

  But it wasn’t enough. Duke recognized that even as he paid the bill. Once he’d dropped Tracy off at her home, he’d head to the closest hamburger joint and get himself a real dinner.

  “How about a walk along the waterfront?” Tracy said on the elevator ride down.

  “Sure.” Duke didn’t want their evening to end so soon, even if he felt half-starved.

  “I love the Seattle waterfront,” Tracy said as they strolled downhill toward Elliot Bay. Friday-night traffic filled the streets, and Duke stared at it, still overwhelmed by the noise and the number of people. He didn’t mention that he’d spent much of the day sightseeing. He’d been particularly impressed by the waterfront area—Pike Place Market, the fish market and the produce stands. Why, there were fruits and vegetables he’d never even heard of before!

  Before he returned to Hard Luck, Duke decided, he’d buy a few of the delicacies he’d discovered for his friends. Seedless watermelon would be a sure hit with the youngsters.

  “Tell me about everyone,” Tracy said as they walked to the end of the pier. The wind whipped her hair about her face. She leaned against the railing, staring out over the choppy green waters. The evening had begun to fade, and the streetlights had come on, casting a warm glow over the area.

  “Karen’s really looking pregnant these days,” Duke commented. “Abbey, too, come to think of it.” Tracy had seen both women when she was in town for Mariah and Christian’s wedding. It hardly seemed possible that it was only weeks ago; it felt like a lifetime. He’d changed in those weeks. So had she.

  “Ben’s getting more ornery every day,” Duke said
with a chuckle. They’d reached the end of the pier.

  “Dotty, Sally and Angie?”

  “Doing just fine. They send their love.” His voice fell on the word love.

  He had no intention of kissing her with people milling about, but it was asking too much not to hold her. He’d dreamed of little else for too long not to give in to the temptation. Later, he promised himself. Later, he’d kiss her.

  With only one good arm, holding her proved to be slightly difficult. He moved closer and slid his arm about her waist.

  Tracy placed her hand against his chest, and Duke suddenly decided he didn’t want to wait. Slowly he leaned forward and kissed her. He reasoned that it was evening and there weren’t that many people. Anyone who didn’t like it could look elsewhere.

  Duke almost lost himself in that kiss. Somewhere deep inside, he managed to find the restraint to break away.

  Tracy trembled, her eyes wide and uncertain. “When...will you be going back?”

  That was the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. Duke didn’t know. The way he felt just then, it wouldn’t be anytime soon.

  “How long are you staying? A few days?”

  He heard the dread in her voice and nearly kissed her again. What they were doing wasn’t smart; Duke realized that at the same time he realized he didn’t care. Some might call him selfish, and he’d be the first to agree, but right now, he needed her. He needed this.

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  “Longer than a week?” she prompted.

  Because he couldn’t answer her question, he kissed the delicate curve of her neck. It felt so good to touch her like this.

  “Duke?”

  “More than a few days,” he whispered.

  “A week? Longer?”

  Her scent intoxicated him. “Yes,” he whispered.

  She exhaled softly, and his heart constricted. All these years he’d assumed he had to be ten-thousand feet above the earth to get this high. He’d never known a man could experience this exhilaration with a woman.

  Tracy was teaching him things he’d never discovered. Never suspected.

  The sound of children giggling pulled them apart. Duke took her hand and together they strolled back up the pier.

 

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