Midnight Sons Volume 3

  He remembered when Charles had first learned about Lanni’s relationship to Catherine Fletcher and how he’d avoided looking at her. But this was different, he told himself. This was Mariah, and his feelings toward her were crystal clear. She needed someone—an older-brother kind of someone—to help her. A friend to steer her in the right direction. Christian wasn’t like his brothers. No, sir. Charles and Sawyer wore their hearts on their sleeves. Not Christian. Sure, he’d kissed Mariah, but that had been a…a fluke.

  Yet even now, after all this time, he could remember the way she’d felt, the way her mouth had tasted. He’d done everything he could to push that memory to the farthest reaches of his mind, but to no avail.

  Maybe, just maybe, he was like his brothers, after all.

  Without invitation he sat down on the swing next to her. It seemed important that she realize how sincere his apology was. “I’m sorry—I don’t know what came over me the night of the fire,” he muttered, knowing that was no excuse, but he had none better to offer. “It’s just that you could have died.” His jaw tightened as a surge of anger threatened to take control of him all over again. “If you decide you never want to speak to me because of the things I said, I wouldn’t blame you. But I’m hoping you won’t do that.”

  He couldn’t believe exactly what he was hoping. The urge, the need to kiss her, was back. And it was more powerful than before.

  “I understand, Christian.”

  “You do?”

  “All is forgiven.” She smiled, as if amused by the melodramatic words. “You were angry. Upset.”

  His heart felt lighter. She smiled sweetly at him, and he noted once more that, while she didn’t possess the striking beauty of Allison Reynolds, Mariah’s loveliness went much deeper. Was so much more real.

  He stared at her mouth, soft and moist. He recalled how her lips had melted beneath his and how…

  He cleared his throat and glanced quickly away.

  “Thank you for finding the jade piece for me.”

  “It was the least I could do.” He shrugged, tried to grin, but his heart pounded like a lovelorn teenager’s.

  “Mariah.” He whispered her name before he drew her into his arms. She seemed to understand what he was asking of her; she leaned toward him. Their mouths came together with an urgency he’d never experienced.

  Christian’s breathing was labored. Their previous kisses had been tentative exchanges, brief encounters. Not this one.

  A noise sounded in the background, and with great reluctance, Christian broke off the kiss. A truck barreled down the dirt road, leaving a trail of dust in its wake.

  If he was going to kiss Mariah, Christian decided, he didn’t want the entire town looking on.

  “Ben misses you,” he whispered, hardly able to find his voice. He dared not dwell on how wonderful it was to kiss her, and how difficult it was to keep from kissing her again.

  Mariah lowered her lashes and smiled. “I can’t imagine why. I’m an even worse waitress than I was a secretary.”

  “That’s not true.” The irony of the situation didn’t escape him; here he was defending her, when only a few months—weeks!—earlier he’d been the one listing her shortcomings.

  “Well, it’s a moot point now.” Her eyes dulled—with sadness, regret, worry, he wasn’t sure which.

  “You’ll be back in no time.” What he hoped, though, was that she’d be back at Midnight Sons. Another truck sped past. Christian had no idea the road in front of the lodge was so busy. He checked his watch; Sawyer would be on his case if he stayed any longer. He thought of mentioning that he’d like her back in the office, but he didn’t want to rush her. And he didn’t want her thinking that kiss had anything to do with work. Besides, he’d already swallowed one serving of crow; he wasn’t eager to down another quite so soon. He’d ease into the topic, be sure she understood how much they missed her, how much he missed her….

  “I have to go,” he said, hoping his voice conveyed his reluctance.

  “I know. Thanks again for finding the bear for me and for stopping by.”

  On impulse, he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to hers. It would’ve been easy to let the kiss develop into something more than a farewell gesture, but he forced himself to make it just that.

  His step was almost jaunty as he hurried back to the office. When he walked in the door, Sawyer cast him a disgruntled look.

  “What took you so long?” he snapped, but Christian assumed his brother didn’t actually expect him to answer.

  He picked up his phone messages and sat down at his desk to return the calls. His hand was on the receiver when his brother spoke again.

  “I hate to be a pest about this,” Sawyer muttered, “but when can we expect another secretary?”

  “Soon.” He knew the minute he said the word that he’d used it one time too many.

  “You’ve been saying that ever since Mariah left,” Sawyer said impatiently. “Either hire someone else, or I will.”

  Christian didn’t take kindly to ultimatums. “Now listen here, Sawyer. I’ve put up with about as much of this as I’m going to.”

  “You! Seems to me you haven’t done a thing to find Mariah’s replacement.” He glared at him from across the office. “I’m beginning to think you don’t intend to hire anyone else.”

  “I don’t.”

  Sawyer’s jaw fell open. “Why the heck not?”

  “Because I’m going to convince Mariah to come back.”

  “I already tried that,” Sawyer told him, sighing wearily.

  “But I caused the problem, not you.”

  Sawyer snorted. “You won’t hear me coming to your defense on that one.”

  “I planned to say something to her this morning, but—”

  “So that’s where you were!” Sawyer’s look revealed his curiosity.

  “Yeah. I apologized and she accepted my apology.” He paused. “Ben reminded me about the Labor Day dance, and I think I’ll ask Mariah. You know, get back into her good graces.” He had an ulterior motive, as well. From now on, Christian wanted every man in town to stay away from her. By escorting her to the dance he was sending a silent message. Mariah was off-limits. Out-of-bounds.

  Sawyer brightened. “Ask Mariah to the dance—now that’s a great idea. Wine and dine her. Women like that sort of thing.”

  “I thought so, too.” Christian felt downright smug. Everything was falling neatly into place, just the way it should.

  Before long Mariah would be back at Midnight Sons.

  Christian didn’t want to appear too anxious, so he waited until the following evening to pay Mariah a second visit. He toyed with the idea of bringing her a small gift. Easier said than done. He surveyed the office and saw the latest issue of Aviation News on Sawyer’s desk. He tucked it under his arm, thinking she’d enjoy reading it. Maybe it would remind her of everything she’d liked about Midnight Sons, get her back in the mood.

  Humming cheerfully to himself, he strolled down the hard dirt road. The evening was chilly, and he was glad he’d remembered his sweatshirt. That way, they could sit out on the porch again. With any luck Karen and Matt would be away. He wasn’t planning to kiss Mariah, but if the spirit moved them, well…

  It wasn’t until Christian had rounded the corner to the lodge that he noticed Bill Landgrin’s truck parked outside. He stopped, frowning, then increased his pace.

  He found Mariah sitting on the swing as if she’d been there all along awaiting his return. She looked as pretty as she had yesterday, but happier, more animated.

  Bill was leaning casually against the porch rail, his legs crossed. He certainly seemed to have settled in for the evening.

  Christian opened the gate and started purposefully up the walkway. Mariah’s eyes met his, and he read the welcome in her look. Landgrin twisted his head around; when he saw Christian, he glared.

  “What are you doing here?” Landgrin demanded.

  “I’ve come to see Mariah.”
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  “So have I,” the pipeline worker said, sounding none too friendly. “You can wait your turn like everyone else.”

  “It’s going to take someone a whole lot bigger than you to get me to leave,” Christian informed the other man in deceptively calm tones. He didn’t appreciate Bill moving in on Mariah, and he wanted that understood.

  “Bill. Christian. Please.”

  Both men ignored her. They were too busy glowering at each other. By nature, Christian wasn’t a violent man, but there were few people who raised his ire as much as Bill.

  “You had your chance with Mariah,” Bill said.

  Christian didn’t know what Bill was implying, but he didn’t like it. The fact was, he didn’t like the other man, period. One thing was certain: he didn’t want Bill anywhere near her.

  “She worked for you for a whole year!”

  “That has nothing to do with this.” The point wasn’t worth discussing.

  “You could’ve asked her out anytime. You didn’t, so she’s fair game for the rest of us.”

  From the corner of his eye, Christian saw Mariah stand up from the swing. “Will you two kindly stop? You’re talking about me like…like I’m some kind of hunting trophy. Fair game!”

  Christian had seen Mariah in this mood before. “Bill will apologize,” he said immediately, pointing at the other man. “I believe you owe the lady an apology.”

  “Bill!” Mariah shouted. “What do you mean, Bill? What about you?”

  Shocked, Christian broke eye contact with Bill long enough to glance her way. “Me? What did I do wrong?”

  “How much time have you got?” Bill muttered under his breath, snickering.

  Christian reverted his attention to Landgrin. “Okay, I’ll say what I came to say. Then, in the interests of fairness, I’ll leave.”

  “I was here first,” Bill took pleasure in reminding him.

  “Fine.” Christian raised both hands in a gesture of peace, the magazine still tucked under his arm. He moved forward and handed it to Mariah. “I thought you might like this.”

  “Thank you,” she replied stiffly.

  “And…” he said, clearing his throat. This wasn’t easy, especially with another man listening in. “I wanted to know if you’d attend the Labor Day dance with me.”

  “Now just one damn minute,” Landgrin blared. “That’s the reason I’m here.”

  A slow, satisfied smile unraveled across Christian’s face. “I asked first.”

  “But I was here first!”

  “Bill. Christian.”

  Again they both ignored her.

  “She’s going with me,” Christian said, glancing briefly at Mariah for confirmation.

  “Sorry, pal. If anyone’s taking Mariah to that dance, it’ll be me.”

  “Not on your life.” Christian was willing to eat a whole lot more than crow just to get Bill out of the picture.

  “As it happens,” Mariah said sternly, “I won’t be attending the dance with either of you. Duke Porter asked me two days ago, and I’ve already agreed to go with him.”

  Having said that, she walked past them both and disappeared into the lodge.

  Chapter

  7

  DUKE PORTER! Christian didn’t like it, not one bit. While he was playing it cool, not wanting to appear overeager—because, of course, he wasn’t—Duke had gone behind his back and asked Mariah to the dance. Didn’t that beat all!

  However, Christian decided he wasn’t really angry that Duke had outdone him; actually he found the whole thing rather amusing. His own pilot had shown him—and Bill—a thing or two.

  Mariah weighed heavily on his mind. His possessive attitude toward her had begun to bother him. Duke didn’t concern him because—well, because he knew Duke wasn’t romantically interested in her. At least that was what Duke had been claiming for months, and Christian finally believed him.

  Bill was another story altogether. He gritted his teeth every time he thought about the pipeline worker making a play for Mariah. What irritated him most was that she didn’t see through his fast-talking style. Christian had credited her with better sense than that.

  In the past few weeks, everything had changed between him and Mariah, and Christian didn’t fully understand the differences yet.

  Often when he was disturbed about something, he’d pull a flying assignment himself. That morning, instead of delegating Duke to take the mail into Fairbanks, Christian planned to make the run himself. He left a quick note, hoping Duke wouldn’t care, and set out early.

  The morning was foggy and cold for the end of August. The mist felt cool and refreshing while he was on the ground, but icy crystals formed on the plane’s wings as he headed south.

  En route, his thoughts were once again filled with Mariah. True, he wanted her back as his secretary, but he didn’t dwell on that. His concern centered on the attention other men were giving her. Naturally, he wasn’t interested in her himself, but he didn’t want to see her make a mistake.

  Mariah was sweet and genuine, a bit naive and too darn trusting. At times he wondered if she had any sense, and at others he was astonished by her insight and sensitivity.

  The woman perplexed him.

  He touched down in Fairbanks and collected the mail, then flew straight back to Hard Luck. An hour later, he landed on the gravel runway.

  Duke was in the office waiting when Christian returned from unloading the cargo. The pilot glared at him. “You grounded me—again—because Mariah’s going to the dance with me, didn’t you?” His eyes fairly snapped with anger.

  The verbal attack caught Christian by surprise. He finished removing his black rayon jacket with its Midnight Sons logo on the back before he answered.

  “No, Duke, of course not! Didn’t you find my note?”

  “That didn’t explain anything. You took my run! You’re angry because Mariah is going to the dance with me.”

  “Where’s Sawyer?” He wasn’t ignoring the outburst, but needed to know where his brother had disappeared. With the office shorthanded, this was not the time for Sawyer to be yakking over coffee with Ben.

  “He stepped out for a couple of minutes. He’ll be back. Now answer me!”

  Christian exhaled forcefully.

  “You can’t, and we both know why,” snarled Duke. “I’ve been with Midnight Sons for more years than I want to remember. Until now, I’ve always considered you and Sawyer to be equitable and fair-minded employers. No longer.” He walked over to the desk and picked up a sheet of paper. “As of this moment, you have my notice.”

  “Your…notice?”

  “Yeah,” Duke said, his look colder than Christian had ever seen it. “I quit.” With that, he grabbed his leather jacket and stalked out the door.

  No sooner had Duke left than Sawyer walked in. “What’s the problem with Duke? He looked pretty mad.”

  “He is,” Christian said, and slumped down in his chair. “He just quit.”

  “What?” Sawyer exploded. “Quit? Why? Duke’s been with us almost from the beginning.”

  “I know.” Christian propped his elbows on the desk and resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. Everything he touched lately turned to dust. Because of him, Midnight Sons had lost Mariah, and now he was solely responsible for Duke’s leaving.

  Sawyer walked over and read Duke’s letter. The message was brief and to the point. Christian could picture the pilot sitting at the keyboard, tapping out the letter with one finger, swearing under his breath and getting angrier by the minute.

  “What happened?”

  Rather than go into a long and complicated explanation, Christian opted for a shorter version of the truth. “He’s upset about me taking the mail run this morning.” Christian rubbed a weary hand down his face. “Despite what he thinks, I didn’t do it to punish him.”

  “Punish him?” Sawyer sounded more confused than ever.

  “Duke seems to think that because he’s taking Mariah to the dance, I—”


  “What has that got to do with anything?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” Christian insisted, close to losing his own patience now. “Why should I care if Duke takes Mariah to the Labor Day dance? I needed time to do some thinking, so I decided to do the mail run. How was I to know Duke would consider it a personal affront?”

  “I don’t believe this.” Sawyer walked from one end of the trailer to the other in agitated strides. “We—Midnight Sons—recruited women to Hard Luck well over a year ago, and everything’s gone pretty smoothly.

  “Some have come and gone, and others have stayed. The town’s thriving. There’s been construction all summer. New homes are going up. The lodge is repaired and open for business. John and Sally’s mobile home is up, and more are ordered. Midnight Sons started all this, and now Midnight Sons is going down the drain—just when we should be doing better than ever! Could someone kindly tell me why?”

  “You’re exaggerating.”

  “I don’t think so,” Sawyer continued, growing more impassioned. “We’ve had more complaints in the past two weeks than we’ve had in two years.”

  Mariah’s absence from the office would explain that.

  “Duke’s quitting, and he isn’t the only unhappy pilot we’ve got. I wouldn’t be surprised if Ralph left with him. We might lose Ted, too.”

  The pilots had been good friends for a lot of years, and Christian suspected his brother was right. This could result in a mass exodus.

  “I’ll talk to him,” he promised. “It’s me Duke’s upset with, not the business. I’ll give him a couple of hours to settle down, then I’ll approach him.”

  Sawyer’s icy glare thawed only a little. “So you’re going to take care of this?”

  “I’ll do my best,” Christian promised.

  SAWYER NEEDED to get out of the office and vent his frustration. He walked to the library, located in the log cabin that had once belonged to his grandfather. Abbey sat behind the desk, busy updating her meticulous files. She looked up and smiled warmly when he walked in.

  “My, oh my,” she greeted him. “Sure looks like you’re having one of those days.”