Midnight Sons Volume 3

  “Duke handed in his notice.”

  It was almost comical to watch Abbey’s expressive eyes fill with shock. “Duke? But why? Something must have happened!”

  “Christian.” If it wasn’t so serious, Sawyer might’ve laughed over his younger brother’s condition. He recognized the symptoms, having experienced them himself a year earlier.

  Christian was falling in love.

  “What did he do this time?”

  Sawyer could see from the look on his wife’s face that she was fast losing patience with her brother-in-law.

  “He took the mail run himself, grounding Duke. Christian claimed he needed a chance to think, but Duke figured it was a form of punishment because he’d asked Mariah to the dance.”

  “Was it?”

  Sawyer pulled out a chair at the reading table, a recent addition to the library. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Christian may not be the most sensitive guy in the world, but he’d never intentionally do anything to upset the pilots or hurt the business.”

  “You know what’s wrong with him, don’t you?” Abbey asked.

  “I have my suspicions.”

  Abbey smiled, and for the life of him, Sawyer couldn’t take his eyes off her. She grew more beautiful every day, he thought, especially now that she was carrying his baby.

  “Christian’s in love.”

  Sawyer chuckled. “Was I this bad?”

  “Worse,” she said primly, leaving no room for doubt.

  “Oh, come on,” Sawyer returned. “You know what the real problem is? Christian’s the youngest of the family, and—”

  “Exactly,” Abbey cut in, “and his role models are you and Charles.” She shook her head. “The poor guy’s so confused he has no idea how to behave with a woman.”

  “What’s wrong with Charles and me?” Sawyer demanded.

  “You mean I have to explain it?” Abbey rolled her eyes. “Charles was willing to let Lanni walk out of his life—all because of an old family feud. And you, my fine husband, offered me one of the most insulting marriage proposals any woman could receive.”

  “I was desperate,” he said quickly.

  “My point exactly. With such pathetic examples, it’s no wonder Christian can’t decipher his feelings.”

  “I might not have said all the fancy words women like to read in those books,” he said, gesturing toward the romance section in the fiction department, “but I got my message across, didn’t I?”

  Her faced softened and she grinned, patting her rounded stomach. “You certainly did.”

  Sawyer had known he loved Abbey and her children a year ago, but his feelings then couldn’t compare with their intensity now. In retrospect, his life had been empty and shallow before he’d met Abbey. Her love gave him a sense of purpose, a reason to get up in the morning. Abbey and the children were his incentive to be the best husband and father—the best man—he could.

  “Maybe we should…help Christian,” Abbey suggested. “Subtly, of course. He’ll resist any obvious attempts to steer him in the right direction.”

  “Christian would resent it if we intruded.”

  Abbey looked disappointed. “You’re sure?”

  “It won’t do one bit of good, sweetheart,” Sawyer told her. “My brother’s got to figure this out all on his own, the same way Charles did.”

  “And you!”

  “And me,” Sawyer agreed with a grin.

  Abbey chewed on her lower lip. “It took Charles weeks, remember?”

  Sawyer wasn’t likely to forget. His older brother had walked around town like a wounded bear, snapping at everyone in his vicinity.

  “I just wonder…” Sawyer murmured.

  “What?”

  “If Midnight Sons will survive Christian’s falling in love.”

  DUKE WAS SITTING glumly on the end of his bed when Christian let himself into the bunkhouse. He glanced up; as soon as he saw who it was, he looked away.

  “Got a minute?” Christian asked.

  Duke made a show of checking his watch. “I suppose.” He stood up and crossed to his locker, pulled out a duffel bag and started stuffing things into it.

  “I’d like to talk to you about leaving Midnight Sons.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t think you wanted to chat about the weather.”

  Duke’s back was to him, and Christian was having a hard time finding the right words. He was willing enough to apologize, only he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to apologize for.

  “Uh, taking your run this morning,” Christian began, broaching the topic tentatively. “I should’ve explained why I did that. I needed to think something over, and I do that best when I’m in the air.” The excuse sounded weak even to his own ears, but he’d swear on his father’s grave that he hadn’t been punishing Duke for asking Mariah to the dance.

  Duke whirled around to face him. “Tell me, Christian, do I look like a bloody secretary?”

  The question took him aback. “No. I don’t understand why you’d ask that?”

  “Well, what do you think I was doing for two and a half hours this morning? Answering the phone, looking for files, running errands.”

  “You didn’t need to do any of that.”

  “Well, Sawyer couldn’t do it all. He was rushing around all morning. What was I supposed to do, ignore the phone? I go in to complain about you taking my flight, and next thing I know I’m talking to some woman in Anchorage. She says she’s a travel agent and that she’s booked all these flights with us. I couldn’t find a darn thing in any of the files that says she did or didn’t.”

  “Did her name happen to be Penny Ferguson?”

  “Yeah, she’s the one,” Duke said, narrowing his eyes.

  Christian groaned and covered his face. He’d resign, too, if he’d been stuck on the phone with Penny, who was demanding and difficult.

  “I apologize,” Christian said. “I never intended for you to have to deal with Mrs. Ferguson.”

  “You mean she’s married?” Duke shook his head. “My condolences to Mr. Ferguson. The woman reminded me of that attorney friend of Mariah’s.”

  At the mention of her name, Christian cleared his throat. It was now or never. “Speaking of Mariah…” he began, uncertain where to head from there.

  “What’s with the two of you, anyway?” Duke asked. The anger had left his eyes, replaced with curiosity.

  “Nothing,” Christian said quickly, perhaps too quickly.

  Duke frowned, then shrugged. “If that’s what you say, who am I to argue?” He turned around and stuffed a shirt deep into his duffel bag.

  “About your letter of resignation,” Christian said cautiously. “I’m hoping I can get you to reconsider. You’re a valuable part of our business—probably one of the best pilots in all of Alaska.” A little flattery would probably help, although that statement wasn’t far from the truth.

  Duke didn’t respond.

  “I looked over the payroll file and noticed it was well past time for you to get a raise.”

  Duke faced him again, his interest obviously piqued. “What’re you offering?”

  In the last year or so, Midnight Sons had been doing good business. Very good. “Twenty percent increase in your base salary.”

  Duke’s eyes widened. “Okay! Mariah thought you’d only go for ten.” He clamped his mouth shut and flushed.

  Christian raised his eyebrows. “You discussed this with Mariah?”

  “Yeah,” Duke answered in a way that challenged him to make something of it. “She’s the one who talked me into staying. If it wasn’t for her, I’d have been out of here on the afternoon flight.” He shoved his duffel bag in the locker and slammed the door. “You might say I was a bit agitated when I left your office this morning. I stopped by the lodge, and Mariah and I had a long talk.”

  Christian would’ve liked to be a bug on the wall for that.

  “She’s loyal to you, Christian. Really loyal. The thing is, I’m not sure you deserve it.”
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  At this point, neither was Christian.

  September 1996

  MUSIC BLARED from several huge speakers strategically set about the polished hardwood floor. It was Labor Day, and Hard Luck’s school gymnasium was as crowded as it had been back when the state had built the school during the oil-rich years.

  Linen-covered tables arranged against the wall were laden with food left over from the earlier potluck. There were salads of all kinds and desserts to tempt the saints, and a dozen casseroles redolent with onion and garlic and savory herbs. Contributions to the feast had been so plentiful that by nine o’clock, enough food remained to feed everyone a second time.

  Mariah had made four apple pies, although Karen had peeled the apples. She was able to do most things for herself, although the bandages tended to frustrate her. But they’d be off soon, according to Dotty.

  Duke had been a thoughtful, devoted companion all evening, and after dinner, they’d danced a number of times.

  Schoolchildren raced with inexhaustible energy from one end of the room to the other. Several had removed their shoes and slipped and skidded across the slick floor.

  So far Mariah hadn’t seen Christian, and she was beginning to wonder if he’d make an appearance. And if he did, she wondered if he’d bring another woman to the festivities. Foolishly Mariah had dreamed of seeing Christian here; she’d dreamed that he’d take her in his arms, dance with her, kiss her…But that was all fantasy, she reminded herself.

  Christian probably wouldn’t even show up, but Mariah had given up second-guessing her former boss. The kisses they’d exchanged had been incredible, but as far as she could tell they meant nothing to Christian. Afterward, he’d looked repentant and even angry. Except the last time…

  Because her feet hurt from her new shoes, Mariah sat out the next dance. Duke, however, became involved in an imaginative free-form dance with Angie Hughes.

  “Hello, Mariah.”

  “Christian…hello.” He’d snuck up on her. Her heart reacted with a leap of happiness.

  “How’s the dance going?” he asked, sitting in the empty chair beside her.

  “Great.” Her pulse reacted as if she’d been caught doing something illegal.

  After a few minutes of silence, he said, “I understand I owe you a debt of thanks.”

  Her eyes opened wide in surprise. She couldn’t think clearly when he was this close. The light, spicy scent of his aftershave sent her senses reeling. She considered it grossly unfair that he should affect her like this when he clearly didn’t return her feelings.

  “Duke explained that you’d talked him into staying,” he continued.

  She shrugged, making light of her involvement.

  “I want you to know I appreciate it.” He hesitated and rubbed his hand down his thigh. “I don’t know what it is lately, but I seem to have developed a talent for making enemies.”

  “That’s not true.” As always she was prepared to defend him. “It wasn’t you Duke was angry with, but Mrs. Ferguson.”

  He smiled and seemed grateful for her support.

  “Have you eaten?” Mariah’s mother seemed to think food was a remedy for all problems, social or personal, and Mariah found herself falling back on that familiar solution. “Dotty’s salmon casserole is wonderful.” She regretted opening her mouth almost immediately. She strongly suspected that women like Allison Reynolds didn’t rave about someone’s salmon casserole.

  “I ate earlier,” he said.

  Everyone in the room seemed to be glancing their way with expressions of anticipation and curiosity. If Christian noticed he didn’t comment. It was all Mariah could do not to stand up and beg everyone to ignore them.

  “Would you like to dance?”

  Mariah couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d proposed marriage. Her dream come true. “Yes—that would be very nice.” She forgot how much her feet hurt; at that moment she would gladly have walked across broken glass for the opportunity to be in Christian’s arms.

  Christian rose from his seat, then hesitated.

  He’d changed his mind. Mariah recognized that look.

  “Will Duke have a problem with it?” he asked, scanning the room.

  “I’m sure he won’t, since he’s dancing with Angie Hughes.”

  Mariah had no idea whether Duke was or not, but it sounded good.

  A ballad, a slow, melancholy song about tormented lovers, had just begun. Christian drew her into his arms and held her loosely.

  “How are your hands?” he asked in a concerned voice.

  “Fine. Dotty says the bandages can come off tomorrow.” Her head moved closer to his, and was soon tucked beneath his chin. It seemed so perfect, so natural, to be in his embrace like this.

  “Is everything working out for you at the lodge?”

  He certainly seemed full of questions. For her part, Mariah would’ve preferred to close her eyes and give herself over to the music. And the dream.

  “Karen and Matt have been wonderful. I—I don’t know what I would’ve done without them. Everyone’s been so good to me.” It was true—almost everyone had stopped by to see her, to wish her well. While she hadn’t made any decisions about rebuilding, she felt the support of her friends and, in fact, the whole community.

  “If you need anything…”

  “I don’t,” and because he couldn’t seem to take a hint, Mariah started to hum along with the song.

  “That’s a nice song, isn’t it?” Christian asked next.

  Mariah groaned. “Christian,” she whispered. “Please shut up.”

  He tensed, then chuckled lightly. It was probably the boldest thing she’d ever said to him, but Mariah didn’t care. This was her fantasy, and she wasn’t about to let him ruin it with idle chatter.

  If he did insist on making small talk, she wanted him to tell her how beautiful she looked. She’d flown into Fairbanks a week ago to buy some new clothes, and it wasn’t Duke she was thinking of when she chose the denim skirt with the white eyelet hem. Nor was it the prospect of an evening with Duke that had prompted her to dab on her brand-new—and terribly expensive—French perfume.

  Her smile sagged with disappointment. She should’ve known Christian wouldn’t live up to her fantasy. Shaking her head, Mariah smiled softly to herself.

  “Something amuses you?”

  “You aren’t supposed to talk,” she reminded him.

  He brought back his head just enough to look at her.

  “This is my fantasy,” she announced without thinking.

  “Your fantasy?”

  “Never mind.”

  “No, tell me,” he said.

  He was going to ruin everything with this incessant talking. “Just shut up and hold me.”

  His laughter stirred the hair at her temple, but she noticed that his arms tightened fractionally around her.

  “What about kissing you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered eagerly. But because she didn’t want to be the focus of any further attention, she added, “Not here, though.”

  “Is that part of the fantasy, too?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have someplace special in mind?” he asked. “For me to kiss you, that is.”

  Anywhere but on the dance floor. She wasn’t given an opportunity to say more, however, because they were interrupted by Lanni and Charles.

  “Christian. It’s about time you showed up. Where’ve you been all evening?” Charles asked.

  “Around,” Christian answered shortly.

  Mariah saw that he attempted to steer her away, but they were trapped in a maze of other couples.

  “Mariah, that’s a lovely color on you,” Lanni commented, gesturing at her pale blue silk blouse.

  “Thanks.” She cast a forlorn look at Christian.

  “Listen—”

  “Stop,” Christian said to his brother, holding up one hand. “We don’t mean to be rude, but you’re interrupting a dream here.”

  “A dream?” Ch
arles repeated. He apparently thought this was some kind of joke.

  “A fantasy,” Mariah elaborated. She wasn’t sure what possessed her to keep talking but the words seemed to flow without volition. “Christian was about to kiss me, and he can’t do that if folks are going to interrupt us.”

  Charles burst out laughing, but stopped abruptly when Lanni glared at him. “Sorry.”

  “There,” Christian whispered to Mariah, “is that better?” He smiled down at her, and the compulsion to stand on tiptoe and thank him with a kiss was a powerful one indeed.

  As Lanni and Charles tactfully withdrew, Mariah felt a moment’s horror—an intrusion of reality. “I can’t believe I said that—about the fantasy.”

  Christian blinked a couple of times. “I can’t believe I said what I did, either.” Then he lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Oh, well…” He smiled roguishly.

  Mariah smiled back, and awaited his kiss. Then, in plain view of his oldest brother and the entire community, Christian cupped the back of her head and eased his mouth toward Mariah’s. His lips met hers with a tenderness that made her go limp in his arms. Soon they gave up the pretense of dancing altogether.

  He ended the kiss with a reluctance that said he’d thoroughly enjoyed being part of her fantasy. She knew he wanted to continue—and would have, had they been anyplace else. She opened her eyes slowly and noticed that he was studying her, a baffled look on his face.

  The music ended.

  Christian dropped his arms and took a step back. “Thank you for the dance,” he said when he’d escorted her to her chair.

  Duke approached them, looking smug. “I see you’re trying to steal my date.” But his tone was humorous, and there was no sign of rancor.

  Christian seemed decidedly uncomfortable. “Would it be all right if I talked to Mariah for a minute?”

  “Are you sure all you’re going to do is talk?”

  “Yes.” Christian sighed.

  “Someone might ask me how I feel,” Mariah suggested in a low voice. She sat down to remove her shoes, but her feet were swollen, and she had to yank the shoes back and forth to pull them off her feet.

  By the time she’d finished, Christian had returned with two glasses of punch. He sat down next to her and cleared his throat. “I started this conversation by thanking you. It would’ve hurt Midnight Sons badly to lose Duke.” He downed the entire contents of his glass in one swallow. His gaze seemed fixed on a point at the opposite side of the gym.