“Oh, no, not confirmed.” He looked at Marta and winked. “Just waiting for the right woman to come along, that’s all.”
There was a great deal more to the story than that, Sydney thought. And even if there hadn’t been, she seriously doubted that Ike would give up the place of honor he held in all women’s hearts for a place of honor in the heart of just one.
Still, there might be a chance, she mused, catching a whiff of the light scent that Marta liked to put on before she donned a stitch of clothing.
The plane groaned like a keening woman in deep mourning. Marta felt that if she were any more rigid, she would snap like a frozen twig. “Is it much farther?”
“We’ll be there soon,” Sydney promised.
It couldn’t be soon enough for Marta.
Marta wasn’t aware of grasping his hand. To her, Ike’s hand was part of the armrest—until she felt his fingers close over hers. But her breath had completely escaped her lungs at that point, and there were no words with which to upbraid him or even to say a single scathing thing about his obstinately being too familiar with her.
Marta was sure this was going to be her last moment on earth, and she didn’t want to enter the next world with a curse on her lips.
God didn’t like it when you cursed.
For a little thing, she sure had a hell of a grip, Ike thought, feeling his fingers go numb. It was a bumpy landing as far as landings went, with a spate of unexpected tailwind turning on them at the very last minute. As the plane was being buffeted by the wind, coming in for the final leg of its journey, Ike was certain that Marta was going to pass out right where she sat.
But then, taking another look into her bright green eyes, he’d amended that. The woman looked like the type to spit in the devil’s eye rather than let him know she was afraid. He liked that. It showed character, and he was a great admirer of character.
When it looked as if she was going to snap off the armrest, he’d slipped his hand into hers again, knowing that she’d probably take his head off for it when she could talk again. But his desire to offer her a measure of comfort transcended any apprehension over words she might use to cut him down. He never liked to see someone in pain, physical or mental.
“It’s okay,” he said softly. “Sydney’s never crashed a plane yet.”
“All it takes is once.” Marta didn’t know if she thought the words or said them out loud until she heard him laughing softly to himself.
Damn him anyway. She was descending into hell, and Don Juan was already with her.
“You can open your eyes now, we’ve landed,” he whispered to her.
She was aware of his warm breath along her face before she attempted to make any sense out of the words that were buzzing close to her ear. Her eyes flew open. Embarrassed, she stiffened, then quickly pulled her hand away from his.
He had to think she was an idiot. That made two of them.
Avoiding Ike’s eyes, Marta cleared her throat. “Sorry.”
His shrug was careless, easy. “Nothing to be sorry for. Not everyone likes to fly.”
He knew damn well what she was referring to. He was undoubtedly enjoying stringing this out. “I meant about squeezing your hand.”
Ike pretended to examine his hand for signs of wear. His grin was fast and lethal and took no prisoners. “Hardly felt it. Feel free to squeeze anything you like anytime you have the need.”
Color, quick and bright, flashed across her cheeks and face, working its way simultaneously to the roots of her dark red hair and down her throat. Marta could feel it, and by the look in his eyes knew that he could see it. She damned this one legacy from a mother she barely knew: translucent skin. It allowed her every emotion to be telegraphed so clearly. If she had skin his color—bronzed, she thought as if he had an intimate relationship with the elusive sun—no one would ever guess at what she was feeling.
Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. “I won’t be doing any squeezing.” And that, she figured, got her message across loud and clear. She was here to visit Sydney and her family. There was no room in her schedule for penciled-in recreational activities that involved egotistical men.
He glossed over her words. “Then I’ll be the poorer for it, darlin’.”
Seeing Sydney reaching for the door, Ike opened his own and jumped down into the snow. Rounding the nose of the plane quickly, he presented himself at her side by the time she’d opened the door, ready to assist her from the plane.
Amusement played across Sydney’s lips. “Looking to do a good deed?” she asked, as he carefully helped her from the plane. “Why don’t you help—” She didn’t have time to finish.
Disembarking from the plane, Marta found that her legs had suddenly transformed themselves from solid flesh and bone to rubbery oatmeal. She gasped as she found herself keeling over. Ike swung around and caught her before she fell face-first into the snow.
The feel of his arms, strong and sure, closing instantly around her, ignited Marta’s indignation. It also created a spark of something else within her that ultimately went to fuel her indignation even more. She didn’t like that hot, fast, upward spike she felt, didn’t like it at all.
With a toss of her head, she sent the hood of her parka slipping off to rest on her shoulders. Hair the color of flame at twilight began a hopeless duel with the wind that was picking up. It was the wind, not proximity, that snatched her breath away, she told herself. Like a reigning gypsy queen, she raised her head regally. “I’m perfectly capable of standing up on my own.”
Ike withdrew his hands, holding them aloft in the air like a man staring down the bore of a red-hot .44. “Anything you say, darlin’.”
But she wasn’t capable of standing up on her own. At least, not at the moment. Taking another step proved that. Feeling wobbly as well as chagrined, she threw her hand out and braced herself against the side of the Cessna. She regretted it instantly. The metal felt incredibly cold against her fingertips. She shoved her hand in her pocket, praying for the return of equilibrium.
In answer to her prayer, Ike took hold of her elbow as if he were escorting her onto the dance floor of her senior prom. “This happens sometimes with first-time flyers,” he assured her easily. From her pallor and her questions, he took it for granted that this was her first time in a plane this size. “It takes a second or two to get your land legs back.”
Grateful for the momentary respite, Marta tried to understand the strange feeling in her lower body. “I thought that was only with ships.”
He grinned again. She wished he’d stop that.
Ike patted the side of the plane. “This is a ship.” He glanced at Sydney, knowing that she agreed. “A ship of the air, and someday, when I have the time, this fine woman is going to teach me how to navigate it, aren’t you?”
Pulling her parka as close around her as she could, Sydney began to lead the way to her house. It was only three, but it was growing dark already. Though she loved it here, she’d be glad when summer was more than just a distant memory. “You’d be better off having Shayne teach you.”
Still holding firmly onto Marta’s elbow, he hooked his other arm through Sydney’s. He didn’t want to risk having her fall. “You’re underestimating yourself, darlin’. Besides—” his eyes danced “—you’re a lot lovelier to look at than Shayne ever was.”
Sydney knew it was just Ike’s way of talking. Flattery, plain and simple. But there were times when she loved the sound of it. With a shake of her head, she sighed. “How is it that Shayne never learned to talk like you?”
His laugh was deep and hearty. Momentarily letting go of Marta’s elbow, he raised his gloved finger to his lips.
“Sh, we don’t make fun of the slow-witted.” He took hold of Marta’s elbow again without even looking her way. “Besides, he’s the one you married, not me.”
“You never asked,” Sydney deadpanned.
It was his turn to sigh.
“I guess that makes me the slow-witted one then, doe
sn’t it?” And then he turned his dark eyes toward Marta, the movement so unexpected that it caught her completely off guard. As did the gleam she saw in those eyes. Marta felt as if she’d suddenly been put on notice. “Maybe the fates have decided to give me a second chance by bringing your friend to my doorstep.”
It took Marta a minute to rally, but rally she did. She’d been in this place before, on the receiving end of a charmer’s compliments. Roses with hidden thorns. She wasn’t about to get scratched again.
“I believe we’re approaching Sydney’s doorstep, not yours,” Marta said pointedly.
But rather than be put off the way she’d expected him to be, Ike merely nodded his approval as he glanced toward Sydney. “Beautiful and quick, too. They really do raise wonderful women in the lower forty-nine, don’t they?”
Marta narrowed her eyes again. “Why don’t you go there yourself and see?”
The wind whipped her hair against his cheek, evoking a warm feeling within him. “Maybe I will,” he agreed. “Someday.”
Sydney could only smile and shake her head at the exchange. If Ike had ever had any intention of leaving Hades, or Alaska itself for that matter—the way so many others did as soon as they reached legal age—he wouldn’t have worked so hard to make a life for himself here.
He’d started out in his teens. Behind that devastating smile, Sydney had discovered, was a man with a plan. Ike had worked hard until he could purchase an interest in the local saloon. For some, that would have been enough. For Ike, it had only been a start.
One foothold had led to another until he was the owner, holding the title to the establishment along with the cousin he’d insisted on bringing in with him. Over the years, his holdings had increased. Now he held the deed to more than one piece of real estate, with grand plans of expanding the town. He meant to bring civilization, and the next century, to Hades.
While melting the heart of every woman in Alaska.
“Ike would never leave us,” Sydney told Marta matter-of-factly as they approached her front door. “All the women in the area would rise up in protest. They’d probably take over the airport just to keep him here.” She was only half joking. The men far outnumbered the women here, but there was still a soft spot in each female heart for Ike LeBlanc.
“Ah, now, darlin’, you’re making me blush.”
Making him blush, her foot. Marta frowned. She was well-acquainted with his type. All talk and a few magic tricks, smoke and mirrors, but no substance whatsoever. She’d been there, done that, and had had her heart irrevocably broken. The pieces of it had never been glued together properly.
But that was all right. She had no further use for that organ anyway. She certainly had no intention of ever falling in love again, so her heart’s condition was no longer of any consequence.
Standing before the door, Sydney paused and turned toward Marta. “Okay, I want you to brace yourself.”
“Why?” She wanted to get inside, out of the wind that was beginning to turn raw. And away from the man at her elbow. “Are you planning on taking me on another plane ride?”
“No.” It was suddenly so important to Sydney that Marta like her children. Marta was like family. With Sydney’s father gone, Marta was all the close family she had left, aside from Shayne and the children. “I just want you to be prepared for Sara and Mac.”
Puzzled, Marta looked up at her. “I’m a teacher, same as you, Sydney. Meeting kids isn’t exactly something out of the ordinary for me.”
“No,” Sydney agreed softly, “but these are mine.”
Marta smiled. She understood. “Point well taken,” she said as Sydney pushed open the oak door. Sara and Mac materialized with greetings, with hugs and with questions, surrounding Sydney as only two vital, energetic children under the age of twelve could.
Marta had a nice smile, Ike thought as he followed her in the opened door. He was going to have to see what he could do about bringing it out more often.
Chapter Three
Marta hadn’t expected to feel an ache. Happiness, yes, to be sure. Happiness for her friend and for the life that Sydney had carved out for herself. Perhaps she’d even thought to feel a vicarious sense of sharing since she and Sydney had once shared everything, good times and bad.
But not an ache. Definitely not an ache.
Yet it was there, bittersweet and strangely acute, burrowing into her and hollowing her out before she managed to bank it down and lock it away. There, because what she was witnessing right before her encompassed everything she had always longed for herself, almost from the very first moment she drew breath. A home, a family. And children. They were all here, and all Sydney’s.
A touch of envy raised its head before it, too, was sent away. This was Sydney’s life, and Marta was ecstatic for her.
She just wished…
But there was no point to that. Her judgment as far as who to entrust her heart to was flawed. Best not to go there.
“What d’you bring me?” Sara’s question had Marta focusing on the child.
Mac was on Sydney’s other side, tugging at her arm. Tugging for her attention. “Did you get my CD?”
Sara lifted her head importantly. “She didn’t have time to get your ol’ CD, she was busy picking up the lady.”
Their voices and questions mingled, encircling the mother they had adopted as fiercely as she had adopted them. Amid the noise was their unabashed, wide-eyed scrutiny of the new person dropped into their midst.
Marta felt as if she’d been taken apart and put back together again in an instant. And approved, judging from the expressions on the two upturned faces. Visitors, Sydney had warned her, were rare in Hades, especially this time of year. Any new face was to be evaluated and gone over like a shiny, brand-new possession, to be passed from hand to hand and admired, or criticized.
Abandoning their siege on Sydney, they turned their eyes toward Marta, competing for her attention.
“Are you gonna stay here forever?” Sara wanted to know. “Mommy said she couldn’t wait until you got here.”
Elbowing his sister out of the way, Mac presented himself front and center. At ten, he was already exhibiting the promise of becoming a handsome man, Marta thought.
“Did you know she was our mom now? Did she tell you about us?”
Giving her brother an impatient look, Sara tugged on Marta’s parka sleeve. “Do you have any kids of your own we can play with?”
Mac grabbed her arm. “Can I show you my room?”
Not to be outdone, Sara caught hold of Marta’s other arm and pulled in the opposite direction.
Stunned, tickled, Marta began to laugh. She was used to children, but as Sydney had promised, this was something special.
“Hold it, hold it.” Knowing that if she laughed, she’d only undercut what she was about to say, Sydney bit back the sound. Instead, she raised her hand like a safety-patrol crossing guard. “Mac, Sara, let Marta catch her breath.”
Much to Sara and Mac’s delight, Marta shook her head, siding with them.
“Oh, no, don’t let me catch my breath. This is great.” Half in love with the overwhelming duo already, Marta flashed a smile at Sydney over their heads. “There’re only two instead of thirty. I can manage, really.” Looking down at the pair, she fired back answers to their questions. “No, I’m not going to stay here forever, but I will be here for a couple of weeks.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Sydney’s look of pleasure. “And I couldn’t wait to get here myself.” She thought of the Cessna’s bumpy ride. “Although I wasn’t so sure about the last leg of the trip.”
Wispy bangs caught in tiny furrows as Sara scrooched her brow. “Do trips have legs?”
“That’s just an expression she’s using, darlin’,” Ike interjected.
Marta noticed that the little girl preened at the endearment. Why shouldn’t she? At seven, Sara didn’t know any better. She hadn’t at twenty-four, Marta thought ruefully. But she did now.
“And yes,” Mart
a continued, running a hand over each silky head, “I know that she’s your mom. Every single letter she’s written to me since she got here has been full of things about you.” The information pleased both children, who puffed up their chests importantly. “I don’t have any kids of my own for you to play with, but I’ll play with you myself if you let me.” The declaration was received with unsuppressed excitement. “And I would love to see your rooms.”
Quicker than her brother, Sara caught Marta’s hand in hers first. “This way.”
Sara might have been quicker, but Mac was stronger and more determined as he took the visitor’s other hand and pulled her in the opposite direction. “No, she said she wanted to see my room.”
Sydney hung her parka on the rack, throwing her blue scarf on top of it. She looked at Marta, her point proven.
“See what I mean by overwhelming?” She got in between the boy and girl. “Kids, let go of Marta, she’s not a pull-toy or a wishbone.” Reluctantly, they each let go of the hand they were holding. “She’s going to be here for a while, so everyone’ll get their turn with her.”
“Does that include me?” Ike was behind her, gently helping her off with her parka before Marta could think to stop him.
Soft and low, his voice moved like a seductive, rich scent along the spring breeze. Surrounding her. The smile on his lips hit her with the force of a lightning bolt when she turned around to face him. Unprepared, she felt the definite crackle of electricity passing over her. Into her.
Gotta watch that, Marta, she warned herself. You know what charmers are like. The man obviously had had a lifetime to hone his skills of seduction, and, like the children, welcomed a new diversion.
Not this time, mister. This time, you’ve met your match. I’ve had my shots.
Like a referee stepping between two contenders to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, Sydney was quick to get between Marta and Ike. She took Marta’s parka and hung it next to hers. “Ike volunteered to show you around when you feel like sightseeing.”
Stand-In Mom Page 3