Midnight Sons Volume 2

  She stared at him in disbelief. “We’ve kissed before.” There had been those memorable passionate kisses. And more recently, affectionate kisses of greeting and farewell. “What’s so different now?”

  “We’re alone.”

  “Yes, I know.” She still didn’t understand.

  He shook his head, as if it was difficult to continue. “Don’t you see, Bethany?”

  Obviously she didn’t.

  “With Chrissie or anyone else around, the temptation is minimized. But when it’s just the two of us, I can’t think about anything else!” The last sentence was ground out between clenched teeth. “Don’t you realize how much I want to make love to you?”

  “Is that so terrible?” she asked quietly.

  “Yes.” The only sound she could hear was the too-fast beating of her own heart. She could see Mitch’s pulse hammering in the vein in his neck.

  “I can’t let it happen,” he told her, his back straight, shoulders stiff.

  “For your information, making love requires two people,” Bethany told him simply. “I wish you’d said something earlier. We could’ve talked about this…arrived at some understanding. It’s true,” she added, “the thought of us becoming…intimate has crossed my mind—but I wouldn’t have allowed it to happen. Not yet, anyway. It’s too soon.”

  Without a word, Mitch closed the distance between them. With infinite tenderness he wove his fingers through her hair, and buried his lips against her throat. “You tempt me so much.”

  She sighed and wrapped her arms around him.

  “Feeling this way frightens me, Bethany. Overwhelms me.”

  “We can’t run from it, Mitch, or pretend it doesn’t exist.”

  His hands trembled as they slid down her spine, molding her against him. His kiss was slow and melting, and so thorough she was left breathless. She rested her head against his shoulder.

  “I guess this means I can put away the celery,” she whispered.

  “The celery?”

  “When the catalog order came, I didn’t receive the mistletoe. The slip said it’s on back order. I talked to my mom earlier today and told her how disappointed I was—and she suggested celery as a substitute. So I nailed a piece over the doorway. Apparently you didn’t notice.”

  Mitch chuckled hoarsely. “You know what I like best about you?”

  “You mean other than my kisses?”

  “Yes.”

  The look in his eyes was as potent as good whiskey. “You make me laugh.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t shut me out, Mitch. I can’t bear it when you shut me out of your life. There isn’t anything you can’t tell me.”

  “Don’t be so sure.” Mitch eased her out of his arms and stared down at her, as if testing the truth of her words.

  “Mitch,” she said gently, touching his face, “what is it?”

  “Nothing.” He turned away. “It’s nothing.”

  Bethany didn’t believe that. But she had no choice other than to end this discussion, which obviously distressed him. When he was ready he’d tell her.

  “Didn’t you say something about decorating your Christmas tree?” he asked with feigned enthusiasm.

  “I did indeed,” she said, following his lead.

  “Good. We’ll get to that in a moment.” He took her by the hand.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You mean you don’t know?” He grinned boyishly. “I’m taking you to the celery, er, the substitute mistletoe.”

  Soon she was in his arms, and all the doubts she’d entertained were obliterated the second he lowered his mouth to hers. She felt only the touch of his lips. Slow and confident. Intimate and familiar.

  Christian had expected Mariah to move away from Hard Luck before December. He wasn’t a betting man, but he would’ve wagered a year’s income that his secretary would hightail it out of town right after the first snowfall. Not that he would’ve blamed her, living as she was in a one-room cabin. He cringed whenever he thought about her in those primitive conditions.

  It wasn’t the first time Mariah had shown him up. Christian was positive she stayed on out of pure spite. She wanted to prove herself, all right, but at the expense of his pride.

  He walked into the office to find Mariah already at her desk, typing away at the computer. Her fingers moved so fast they were a blur.

  At the sound of the door closing, she looked up—and froze.

  “Morning,” he said without emotion.

  “Good morning,” she said shyly. She glanced away, almost as if she expected a reprimand. “The coffee’s ready.”

  “So I see.” He wasn’t looking forward to this, but someone had to reason with her, and Sawyer had refused to take on the task.

  Christian poured himself a cup of coffee, then walked slowly to his desk. “Mariah.”

  She stared at him with large, frightened eyes. “Did I do something wrong again?”

  “No, no,” he said quickly, wanting to reassure her. “What makes you think that?” He gave her what he hoped resembled an encouraging smile.

  She eyed him, apparently not convinced she could trust him. “It seems the only time you talk to me is when I’ve done something wrong.”

  “Not this time.” He sat down at his desk, which wasn’t all that far from her own. “It’s about you living in the cabin,” he said.

  He watched her bristle. “I believe we’ve already discussed this,” she answered stiffly. “Several times.”

  “I don’t want you there.”

  “Then you should never have offered the cabins as accommodation.”

  “I’d prefer it if you moved in with the other women—in Catherine Fletcher’s house,” he said, ignoring her comment. Actually, having Catherine’s house available to them had been a godsend. Two women—Sally and Angie—had moved in, and the arrangement was working out well.

  The pilots Midnight Sons employed lived in a dorm-size room. It was stark, without much more than a big stove for heating and several bunk beds and lockers, but the men never complained. The house was far more to the women’s liking. As soon as they could, he and Sawyer were bringing in two mobile homes for the women, as well.

  Until then Christian wasn’t comfortable thinking about Mariah—or anyone else—living in a one-room cabin. Not with winter already here.

  “I’m just fine where I am,” Mariah insisted.

  Sawyer thought she was all right there, too, but Christian knew otherwise. At night he lay awake, thinking of Mariah out there on the edge of town in a cabin smaller than a rich man’s closet. It had no electric power and no plumbing, and was a far cry from what she’d been accustomed to.

  “I’m asking,” he said, being careful to phrase the words in a way she wouldn’t find objectionable, “if you’d move in with Sally and Angie. Just until the spring thaw.”

  “Why?”

  Arguing with her was an exercise in frustration. And the amount of time he wasted worrying about her! That in itself made no sense to him. The fact was, he didn’t even like Mariah. The woman drove him crazy.

  “I’m asking you to move in with them for a reason other than the cabin’s primitive conditions.” This, of course, wasn’t true, but he had to figure out some way of getting her to move. He said the first thing that came to mind.

  “I…I think one or two of the women are considering leaving Hard Luck,” he lied. “We don’t want to lose them.”

  “Who?”

  Christian shrugged. “It’s just rumors at this point. But I need someone who can encourage them to stick out the winter. Someone the others like and trust.”

  She looked at him as if she wasn’t sure she should believe him.

  “The others need someone they feel comfortable with. They like you, and I think you could help.”

  Mariah paused. “But I don’t feel it’s necessary for me to move in with them.”

  “I do,” he answered automatically. “How often do you get a chance to talk with your friends? I c
an’t imagine it’s more than once a week.” He was stabbing in the dark now.

  Mariah nibbled on her lower lip and seemed to be considering his words. “That’s true.”

  “A few of them aren’t having an easy time adjusting to life in the Arctic. Will you do it, Mariah?” he pleaded. Heaven knew he’d tried every other means he could think of to get her to get out of that godforsaken cabin. “Will you move in with the other women?”

  She hesitated. “I’ll still get the deed to the land and the cabin at the end of the year, won’t I?”

  “You can have both now.” It wasn’t the first time he’d made that offer. The sooner she accomplished her goals, the sooner she’d leave Hard Luck.

  “Giving me the title now wouldn’t be right. The terms of my contract state that at the end of one year I’ll be entitled to the cabin and the land. I wouldn’t dream of accepting the deed a moment sooner.”

  “Then I’ll assure you in writing that the time you spend living with the other women will in no way jeopardize our agreement. You can type up the papers yourself.”

  He watched her and waited. Waited while the interminable minutes passed. He couldn’t believe that one small decision would require such concentration.

  “Will you or won’t you?” he demanded when he couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

  “I will,” she said, “but on one condition. I want to talk to the others first and make sure I won’t be intruding.”

  Christian groaned, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands. “Midnight Sons is paying the rent!”

  “I’m well aware of that,” Mariah said coolly.

  “If I wanted to move the entire French Foreign Legion into that house, then I’d do it.”

  “No, you wouldn’t,” Mariah said with a know-it-all grin. “First, Sawyer wouldn’t let you and—”

  “It was a figure of speech.” Christian now fought the urge to pull out his hair. No one on earth could anger him as quickly as Mariah Douglas. The year she was contracted to work for him couldn’t end fast enough. Not until she left Hard Luck would he be able to sleep through the night again.

  A wreath hung inside the door of the Hard Luck Café. Flashing miniature lights were strung around the windows. Christmas cards were pinned to one wall in a straggling triangle. Bethany guessed the shape was supposed to represent a Christmas tree.

  The thank-you notes the children had written following his visit to the classroom were taped against another wall for everyone who came into the café to see. The worn look of those notes told her Ben had read them countless times himself.

  “It’s beginning to look downright festive around here,” Bethany said as she stepped up to the counter.

  “Christmas is my favorite holiday,” Ben declared. “How about a piece of mincemeat pie to go with your coffee? It’s on the house.”

  “Actually I don’t have time for either,” Bethany said regretfully. She was on her way to church for choir practice and only had a few minutes. “I came to invite you to my house for Christmas dinner.”

  Ben’s mouth opened and a look of utter astonishment crossed his face. “I thought…Me? What about Mitch and Chrissie? Aren’t they spending the day with you?”

  “I invited them, too. I’m sure I’m not half as good in the kitchen as you are, but I should be able to manage turkey and all the trimmings. Besides, you might enjoy tasting someone else’s cooking for a change.”

  He frowned as though this was a weighty decision. “I like my turkey with sage dressing and giblet gravy.”

  “You got it. My mom always stuffs the bird with sage dressing, and my dad makes giblet gravy. I wouldn’t know how to do it any other way.” When he seemed about to refuse, she added, “If you want to contribute something, you can bring one of those mincemeat pies you’re trying to fatten me up with.”

  Ben turned away from her and reached for the rag. He began to wipe the already clean countertop. “I…I don’t know what to say.” His eyes continued to avoid hers.

  “Just say yes. Dinner’s at three.”

  He gestured weakly. “I always keep the place open.”

  “Close it this year.” She almost suggested he should spend the holiday with family, but managed to stop herself. Still, she felt close to Ben; she did feel he was family. Perhaps this was emotionally dangerous, but being with him on Christmas Day might help ease the ache of missing her parents.

  “Folks generally spend Christmas Day with family,” he said. It was as if he’d been able to read her thoughts. “I don’t have any left,” he told her in a low voice. “At least, none who’d want me dropping in unannounced at Christmas.”

  “I’ll be your family, Ben,” she offered, waiting for her heart to stop its crazy beating. He had no way of knowing how much truth there was in her words. “And you can be mine. For this one day, anyhow.”

  “Won’t I be in the way? I mean, with you and—”

  Bethany reached for his hand. “I wouldn’t have invited you if that was the case.”

  “What about you and Mitch? You two are spending a lot of time together lately—which is good,” he hastened to say. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mitch look happier, and what I hear is that there’s a night-and-day difference with Chrissie. She used to be a shy little thing.”

  Bethany had the feeling he would’ve rambled on for an hour if she hadn’t stopped him.

  “Ben!” She laughed outright. “I’m asking you to Christmas dinner. Will you come or not? I need to know how much food to prepare.”

  She watched his throat work convulsively. “No one ever asked me to Christmas dinner,” he said in a strangled voice.

  “Well, someone is now.”

  He met her look and his eyes grew suspiciously bright. “What time do you want me there again?”

  “Dinner’s at three. You come as early as you like, though.”

  “All right,” he said with some difficulty. “I’ll be there, and I’ll bring one of my pies.”

  “Good. I’ll see you Christmas Day.” Having settled that, Bethany left the café.

  “Bethany,” Ben called, “if you need any help making that gravy, you let me know.”

  “I will. Thanks for offering.”

  Not until she was outside, with the cold clawing at her face, did she realize there were tears in her eyes. She quickly brushed them away and hurried to the church.

  Christmas was supposed to be a joyous time of year. It would be, Matt Caldwell thought, if Karen was with him. He glanced around the Anchorage church. The harder he tried not to think about his ex-wife, the more difficult it became to concentrate on the hymnbook in his hands.

  Perhaps it was because the last time he’d been in this church was after his grandmother’s death. The sadness that had taken hold of his heart then hadn’t faded in the weeks since.

  Matt hadn’t made church a habit of late. The fact was, he and God weren’t on the best of terms. He was quite comfortable ignoring the presence of an almighty being, since evidence of God had been sorely lacking in his life these past few years.

  It didn’t help that he was once again the only family member who was alone. His parents stood on one side of him, and Lanni and Charles on the other. Those two were so much in love it was painful just being around them.

  Although Lanni enjoyed her work with the Anchorage News, she hated the long separations from Charles. April couldn’t come soon enough as far as she was concerned.

  The Christmas Eve church services continued, and the members of the congregation lifted their voices in song. Matt wasn’t in any frame of mind to join in. He’d worked hard during the past few months. Damned hard. Other than his obvious purpose of getting the lodge ready, he’d driven himself in a single-minded effort, but whether it was to impress Karen or get her out of his system, he no longer knew.

  He couldn’t help wondering how his ex-wife was spending Christmas. He was pretty confident she wouldn’t have a white Christmas in California.

  Was she alon
e, the way he was? Did she feel empty inside? Was she thinking of him?

  Somehow he doubted it, considering how impulsively she’d left Alaska. It still bothered him that she hadn’t so much as told him she was moving. Instead, she’d contacted his sister, knowing Lanni would tell him.

  Once the interminable singing ended, there was the predictable Christmas pageant. Despite his misery, Matt found himself smiling as the Sunday school children gave the performance they’d no doubt been rehearsing for months.

  This year, instead of a doll, they had a newborn infant playing the role of the baby Jesus. This child was anything but meek and mild. In fact, he let out a scream that echoed through the church and started all the children giggling.

  Well, that was what they got for using a real baby.

  A baby.

  He froze on the thought. Babies. Children. He glanced around the congregation and noticed a number of families with small children.

  Karen had wanted children. They’d had more than one heated discussion on that subject. Matt had been against it; he didn’t feel ready for fatherhood. Not when his future and career remained unsettled. In retrospect, he could see he’d been right. Dragging a child through a divorce would’ve been criminal.

  Now the likelihood of his having a family was remote at best. He discovered, somewhat to his surprise, that the realization brought with it a new pain. Great. Just what he needed. Another resentment to harbor. Another casualty of his dead marriage. Something else to flail himself with.

  He was relieved when the church service ended. At least he hadn’t been subjected to a lengthy sermon on top of the singing and the pageant.

  Once they were home, his family gathered around the Christmas tree. Traditionally they opened their gifts on Christmas Eve. It had taken some doing for him to dredge up enough energy to spring for gifts, but he’d managed it.

  “How about hot apple cider?” Lanni asked.

  “Sure,” he said, faking a smile. It didn’t seem fair to burden everyone else with his misery.

  His sister brought him a cup, then sat down next to him. Their mother was busy in the kitchen and his father was talking to Charles.

  “I hoped we’d have a minute alone before opening the gifts,” Lanni whispered. She searched through the mound of gaily wrapped presents; beneath one of them she found what she was looking for. An envelope. She handed it to him.