The Alaskan Catch
Page 23
He laughed. “That will do for now.” He slid it onto the ring finger of her left hand. “I wonder if there’s a waiting period.”
“For what?”
“For getting married. The sooner you’re officially my wife, the sooner we can start making arrangements. Is that all right with you? Or do you want a big wedding?”
She blinked. It was all happening so fast. If quitting her job to start teaching in Alaska seemed like a leap of faith, marrying Sam and moving to London was like jumping out of an airplane. But if it meant she could be with Sam... “The sooner, the better.”
Sam squeezed her hands. “Let’s go home.”
* * *
ONCE THEY WERE inside the house, Sam led his lovely fiancée to the couch and pulled her onto his lap. He was going to have a wife, the most wonderful wife in the world. He pulled her against his chest and nuzzled her silky hair. “I love you.”
“I love you.” She cuddled even closer. “So,” she murmured, “how will this work, exactly? With the company, I mean?”
“I’m not sure, but I suspect once I officially accept the position, they’ll want me as soon as they can arrange for a work visa. That will give us time to get you on my health plan and everything, and arrange for an apartment.”
“Oh.” Her hand went to her mouth. “I just remembered—I don’t have a passport.”
“Then we’ll get you one. We can get it expedited.”
She traced a finger along his arm. “Tell me about your new job. What will you be doing in London? Do they have oil wells there?”
“It’s advising. I’ll be consulting with the various assets around the world. When they’re implementing new technology or having complications, I’ll be there to support them. Sometimes, I’ll be working from the office in London, but a good part of the time, I’ll be flying to different places around the world, helping with problems.”
“I see.” She nodded slowly. “But you’ll be coming back to London in between? Kind of like with your Siberian rotations?”
“I’m supposed to be in London about half the time. And I should have most weekends off to spend with my wife.” Of course, he’d assured Ethan he had no wife, no ties, that he was free to travel. But Ethan would just have to adjust his expectations.
“Okay.” Dana paused and looked thoughtful. “I guess while you’re gone, I can explore. They have all kinds of museums and things there, right? It will be like a really long vacation.”
“Yeah, it will be great.” He tried to sound confident, but the more he thought about it, the worse this idea seemed. How much fun could it be for her, living alone in a busy city where she didn’t know a soul, waiting around for him to get home from work or from a trip, where he’d stay just long enough to repack his suitcase and head out again?
Dana went on, gamely making plans. “So, I guess I’d better contact UAA tomorrow and drop my classes. I’m still within the refund period. And I’ll give notice on the job so they can give it to someone else.”
This wasn’t right. It was beyond selfish to expect her to drop everything to go with him. Dana deserved better. “No. Don’t give notice. Don’t drop out.”
“No?” Her eyes opened in alarm. “You’ve changed your mind?”
“Yes, I have. This isn’t fair. You’ve wanted to teach your whole life, but you gave up your own ambitions to meet your father’s expectations. I won’t ask you to do that for me.”
“But, Sam, I want to be with you. You’re more important than any job, including teaching. I’m sure I could be happy in London. Lots of people would give anything for a chance to live in London.”
“Maybe someday we’ll decide to do that, but not now. Right now, you need to go to college and get your career started.”
“But—”
“I’ll turn down the assignment. There’s a job opening on the North Slope I think I might be good at. Walt Chrism, a supervisor in Prudhoe Bay, is retiring. It’s a two-week-on, two-off position, so I’d still be away half the time, but during the two weeks I am home, I’d be free to spend it all with you. Not like London, where I’d be in the office every weekday when I wasn’t traveling.”
“What if you don’t get it?”
“Then I’ll find something else.”
“Are you sure about this? Sam, I know how important it is to you to advance in the company. If you turn down a promotion, you might never have another chance.”
He thought about that. “You know the idea doesn’t upset me nearly as much as it would have a few months ago.” He put his finger on her chin and tipped her face so she was looking into his eyes. “Do you love me?”
Her eyes softened. “Yes, I love you.”
“Then marry me. Make your home here. Let me share Alaska with you.”
“When you put it like that, how can I refuse?”
“Then it’s settled. Tomorrow I’ll decline the offer in London and apply for the job on the slope.” He kissed the top of her head. “And then we’ll find out how to get a marriage license.”
“Perfect.”
Sam, picturing their future, could see nothing but happiness. “We’ll raise our kids here and teach them all the things Tommy and Ursula taught me. You do want kids, don’t you?” Because he did. Suddenly, he wanted the whole package, a wife and a kid or two, or three or four. Whatever Dana wanted.
She gave him a slow grin. “I do.”
“You’re going to be a fantastic mother.” He nuzzled against her hair. “And teacher.” He brushed his lips against the corner of her eyebrow. “And wife.”
She turned her face up to receive his kiss. He leaned in, but instead of a kiss, he rubbed his nose against hers.
She giggled. “Eskimo kisses.”
“By definition, all my kisses are part Eskimo.”
She slipped her hands behind his head. “Is that what makes your kisses so good?”
“No. You’re what makes my kisses so good.”
She raised her eyebrows. “So am I going to get one or not?”
Sam chuckled. “It’s going to be hard to stop at one.”
Dana tightened her arms around his neck. “I’m counting on it.”
* * * * *
If you enjoyed THE ALASKAN CATCH, don’t miss Beth Carpenter’s next heart-tugging NORTHERN LIGHTS romance coming in December 2017!
Available at www.Harlequin.com.
Keep reading for an excerpt from NEW YEAR’S WEDDING by Muriel Jensen.
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New Year's Wedding
by Muriel Jensen
PROLOGUE
THE COLD, CRISP night had begun so well. Despite the last-minute schedule change just days before Christmas, the crew had rallied for the flight from Paris to Ireland. They would make this photo shoot work. The only hitch had been Maggie, the makeup artist, who had already left on her Christmas holiday. But a replacement had been found and everyone approached the Heart and Soul perfume shoot with the enthusiasm required for success.
The palatial country home where they were being allowed to set up lights and cameras had a pillared portico outlined with Christmas lights and a tall, decorated oak by the front steps.
Cassie Chapman was cold. Her filmy red, off-the-shoulder gown was intended to contribute to the glamour of the scene, but someone stood just yards away with a warm coat to wrap around her during breaks.
She was excited and edgy. Work always revved her body and her brain, but that wasn’t all. That morning, she’d learned that the brother and sister she hadn’t seen since she was two years old had found her and invited her to join them in Texas for the holidays. Though feeling like a lit firecracker inside, she tried to focus on the work at hand, knowing the entire crew was as anxious to finish the night’s work as she was.
The shoot began to go bad when the woman who had replaced Maggie kept running in between shots to reset the combs that held Cassie’s thick hair back. Her movements were quick and understandably nervous. She was very young and it was the first time she’d worked with this crew. She jabbed blush on Cassie’s cheekbones with a finger that felt like an auger, and fussed with eyelashes she’d applied earlier and that now drooped slightly on the outside edge.
Cassie had stood quietly while the woman tried to fix it, apparently not achieving the look she wanted. The stars and the lights began to spin a little, her breath coming as though having to fight its way out. Oh, no. Those symptoms usually preceded an event. She told herself firmly, “Not. Now.”
But rough, anxious hands were all over her face, pushing and smoothing, reattaching a comb and scraping her scalp.
Cassie remained still. She had a reputation as a consummate professional whether she was in water, on a camel or in a tree. Discomfort meant nothing as long as they got just the right shot.
Panic began, anyway. It was mild at first because she tried to work the behavior strategy. Breathe deeply, think about wide, open spaces and put yourself there.
Her favorite place was Paloma Beach on the Riviera. She struggled to remember the feel of the warm breeze on her face and the sun on her limbs, to hear the surf and the laughter of other bathers.
She was anxious, though, about meeting her siblings. She could miss her flight, and travel was crazy at this time of year. And the strategy required focus and not distraction to work well.
She finally said politely, “Please stop. I need a minute to...”
But the woman went on as though Cassie hadn’t spoken, determined to fix the troublesome eyelashes.
Mild panic quickly became the serious stuff of nightmares. After twenty-five years and several therapists, she still didn’t know if she’d been born this way or if something she couldn’t recall had caused it. Once the panic took her over, its origin didn’t matter. Dealing with it was all she could do.
Now she couldn’t breathe, felt the darkness coming as though someone lowered a heavy, prickly blanket over her, saw the lights go crazy as the spin quickened and she began to gasp for air. The need to jump out of her skin and run was overwhelming.
It acted like a memory that wouldn’t quite form. She had a sense of something holding her tightly in place, squeezing the breath out of her. In contradiction to the imprisoning hold, she felt something silky against her face. It was always the same. Loud, angry voices, cries of pain and anguish, then a harsh, ugly noise and a moment’s silence. She struggled to put a time and place to what was less a memory than an imprint on her brain without words or pictures. As always, nothing came.
When the makeup artist smoothed the eyelashes again and accidentally stuck her finger in Cassie’s eye, Cassie came back to the moment suddenly, screaming. She grabbed the startled woman’s wrist and held it away from her.
“Stop!” Cassie shouted at her. “I asked you to stop!” She was horrified to hear herself. She never shouted. “Are you deaf?” she demanded.
The cruel question was spoken in exasperation rather than anger but she noted that the woman’s eyes were on her lips. When they rose to meet her gaze, they looked mortified, stricken.
Several members of the crew closed in to try to help, but that was the last thing Cassie’s claustrophobia needed. Though she felt as though a breath was trapped in her lungs, she managed to free a high-pitched scream. She dropped the woman’s wrist, pushed away the coat someone tried to wrap around her, picked up the skirts of her dress and ran away. The scream seemed to fill the night and follow her.
Copyright © 2017 by Muriel Jensen
ISBN-13: 9781488012358
The Alaskan Catch
Copyright © 2017 by Lisa Deckert
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