Midnight Sons Volume 3 (9 page)

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.”

At this point, neither was Christian.

September 1996

M
USIC 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?” Charles 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.

“I’m glad I could help.”

“Would you be willing to help us again?” he asked, glancing briefly at her.

“How?”

“I offered Duke a twenty percent increase in his wages if he’d stay on. I’d be willing to make the same deal with you if you’d come back and work for Midnight Sons.”

Mariah gasped. The request itself didn’t shock her, but she took offense at the inducement he’d used. “Is that what the kiss was all about?” she asked, struggling to hold in her anger.

“No.” He looked directly into her eyes. “I swear the kiss had nothing to do with this.” His face fell. “I’m sorry, Mariah,” he said, vaulting to his feet. “I really bungled that. You must think I’m a complete jerk. Forget I asked.” He started to walk away and she stopped him.

“Christian.”

He whirled around, and his expression was so hopeful she had to restrain herself from laughing.

“I haven’t made any long-term plans yet. The fire…well, it raised a number of questions regarding my future.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll come back to Midnight Sons on two conditions.”

“Name them.”

“One, Ben has to give his permission, because technically I still work for him.”

“No problem. Ben’s a good friend, and he knows Sawyer and I are going crazy without you.”

She smiled, agreeing that Ben would willingly let her go. Although he appreciated her help, it was all too apparent that she wasn’t cut out for waitressing.

“Second,” she said, “I’ll only agree to work for you—”

“Great!”

“Wait, I haven’t finished.”

The look on his face was almost comically expectant.

“I’ll work for you,” she said, “but only until you can find a permanent replacement.”

W
HEN
C
HRISTIAN ENTERED
the Midnight Sons office Tuesday morning, he was met by the welcoming scent of a freshly brewed pot of coffee.

“Good morning, Christian,” Mariah said cheerfully.

It was all he could do not to close his eyes and exhale a deep, fervent breath of relief. His life was about to return to normal. Mariah was back. The temptation to kiss her—to show her how grateful he was—nearly overwhelmed him.

“Would you care for some coffee?” she asked, automatically pouring him a cup.

“Please.” Christian saw that her hands had been freed from the bulky bandages. Gauze was lightly wrapped around her palms, giving her the use of her fingers.

He sat down at his desk and resisted the urge to lace his hands behind his head and prop his feet up. He figured Mariah might perceive that as overconfidence, and the last thing he wanted to do was annoy her.

“Here you go,” she murmured, setting the mug down in front of him.

Christian beamed her a smile of heartfelt appreciation. At his first sip, however, he grimaced. She’d added cream and sugar. Still, his disappointment was minimal; she could’ve added horseradish and he wouldn’t have complained. In time, maybe ten or twenty years, she’d learn he liked his coffee black.

Mariah was back, and right now that was all that mattered.

The morning sped past with such ease it was well after noon before Christian noticed the time.

“I’m going over to Ben’s for lunch,” he told his brother.

“Okay,” Sawyer answered distractedly. “Don’t forget this is my afternoon off. I’m flying Abbey in for an ultrasound later.”

“I didn’t forget.” Christian smiled to himself. His brother made a great father.

Ben was busy flipping hamburgers on the griddle when Christian walked into the café. “You can put on an extra burger for me,” he called, and hopped onto a stool.

“You want fries with that?” Ben called back.

Christian shook his head. “Do you have any potato salad?”

“Not today,” Ben told him. “How about macaroni?”

“Sure.” He was easy to please, especially today.

The bell over the door chimed, and Charles walked in. He sat on the stool next to Christian. “You alone?” he asked.

Christian looked pointedly at the empty stool on his other side. “So it seems. What makes you ask?”

Charles shrugged and pulled the menu from behind the sugar canister. “I thought you might be taking Mariah to lunch,” he said absently as he scanned the selections he’d seen perhaps a thousand times before.

“Why would I do that?” Christian asked, finding the question odd.

“Why not? You’re the one who was kissing her in the middle of the school gymnasium. I assumed you two were an item now.”

Ben walked past them to a middle-aged couple sitting at a table in the back of the café. “Be right with you, Charles.”

“No problem.”

“Mariah and I are not an item,” Christian said evenly. The kiss meant nothing. He had half a mind to explain that he was just playing along with that little fantasy of hers, but decided against it. His explanation would only give his brother extra ammunition.

Charles arched one brow. “If you say so.”

“I do,” Christian said. It annoyed him that his own brother, someone whose judgment he trusted, hadn’t been able to tell the difference between fantasy and reality, between a “dream” kiss and waking love.

Fortunately Ben delivered his hamburger at that moment. He took Charles’s order, then promptly disappeared into the kitchen.

“I talked to Mom this morning,” Charles announced.

They didn’t often hear from their mother. Christian made an effort to call Ellen once or twice a month—had, in fact, visited her a few weeks earlier—but she’d remarried and lived a full life in British Columbia now. She loved to travel and took frequent trips with her new husband. Books remained an important part of her life, especially since Robert owned several bookstores. She was independent of her sons now and very much her own woman.

“She said something curious,” Charles murmured thought
fully; he seemed a bit awed, even shaken. “She was telling me how much she enjoyed having Scott and Susan with her. Then, out of the blue, she said that the three of us were her…connection to life.”

Christian frowned. “Her connection to life?”

“Yes. Now that both Sawyer and I are married and Abbey’s pregnant, she said she’s begun to feel freer to keep in touch with us. To reach out more often. Apparently she was afraid of intruding in our lives.”

“There’s no need for her to feel that way.”

“That’s what I told her, but she dismissed it. She told me she’s had to stop herself for years from playing too large a role in our lives. Frankly I don’t understand it. I thought she
preferred
to keep her distance. I don’t know about you, but I had the feeling the three of us were reminders of all those unhappy years she lived in Hard Luck.”

“They weren’t all unhappy.”

“Perhaps not, but it seemed that way,” Charles said. “I assumed that because she has a new life now, she’s comfortable with the separation.”

“Yes and no.” Christian, as the son closest to his mother, spoke with a certain authority.

“I told her that,” Charles said, smiling, “and you should’ve heard the lecture I got. It was pointed out to me that, as her children, we represent her past, share her present and form her future. That’s the connection-to-life stuff she was talking about.”

“Sounds as though you two cleared the air.”

“Yes,” Charles agreed, “only I wasn’t aware we’d been at odds.”

“You weren’t,” Christian assured him. “All you both needed was a bit of…clarification.”

Charles said nothing more for a moment. Then, finally, “She loved him, you know.”

“Dad?”

Charles nodded. “For a time I wondered about that, but I realize now how deeply she cared for him. It wasn’t a perfect marriage, but they loved each other in their own ways.”

“No marriage is perfect,” Christian muttered, and bit into his hamburger. He’d leave all that happy-ever-after stuff to Charles and Sawyer. He was thirty-one and had no intention of settling down. Not for a good long while, anyway.

“I don’t know about no marriage being perfect,” Charles said, grinning broadly. “But I’m happy with the current state of
mine.
”

“Sure—you and Lanni are newlyweds.”

Charles shook his head in a kind of wonder. “It seems like we’ve always been together. I’m happy, Chris, happier than I can remember being in many years.”

Christian was pleased for his brother, but he reminded himself again that married life wasn’t for him.

“Here you are,” Ben said, bringing Charles his turkey sandwich. “Now I can take a load off my feet.” He pulled up a stool and sat on the opposite side of the counter. “I’ve been busier than a one-handed piano player,” he said with a heavy sigh.

“Do you miss Mariah?” Christian asked, feeling slightly guilty.

“What do you think?” Ben responded. “Of course I miss her. She might have confused orders and broken a few dishes, but she lent a willing hand. And the customers loved her—not to mention her pies. Fact is, I’m going to hire someone else as soon as I can get around to it.”

“Good,” Charles murmured between bites. “It’s about time you did.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying.” Ben wiped his brow with his forearm.

Christian finished his burger and slid the empty plate away. Ben reached for the dish and added it to a stack behind the counter. “People have been talking about you and Mariah all morning,” he said casually. “You sure have set tongues wagging.” Ben chuckled. “What’s this I hear about you kissing her in front of half the town?”

Christian ignored the question. “Talking? Who’s talking, and what are they saying?”

“Most folks around here seem to think you two’re as good as married.”

Charles burst out laughing. “That’s what you get, little brother. If you don’t want people to talk, then you shouldn’t dance with Mariah again. Especially if you’re going to take part in her fantasies.”

“It’s not like that,” Christian told Ben, pretending he hadn’t heard Charles. “Mariah and I are…friends. Good friends. Nothing more.”

“Sawyer and I are brothers
and
friends,” Charles said lightly, “but you don’t see me kissing him.”

“Very funny,” Christian muttered sarcastically.

He wasn’t about to get involved in a verbal battle with Charles and Ben. He’d let them have their fun. They could think what they wanted, but he knew the truth—and for that matter, so did Mariah.

Christian slipped off the stool, looked at his tab and slapped the money down on the counter. In his eagerness to make a clean getaway, he nearly collided with Bill Landgrin.

They eyed each other warily. Bill hadn’t been at the Labor Day dance, and for that Christian was grateful.

“Hello, Bill,” he said. Even if he didn’t think much of the other man, there was no need to be rude.

Bill acknowledged the greeting with an inclination of his head. “I hear you’ve decided to marry Mariah, after all.”

“What?” Christian exclaimed. He was getting frustrated with having to defend himself against this crazy talk. “Who told you that?” he demanded, and sent an accusing glare at Charles and Ben.

“Not those two, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Bill told him.

“Then who?” Rumors like this had to be stopped before they did damage.

“Practically everyone I’ve talked to this morning. They all saw you kiss Mariah.”

“Just because I kissed her doesn’t mean I’m going to marry her! That’s insane!”

“Everyone knows how she feels about you.”

“No way!” Christian said, unwilling to listen. After all, she’d accepted Duke’s invitation to the dance, which disproved
that
theory.

“Why else do you think the single men in town haven’t beaten a path to her door?” Bill asked. “We knew it wouldn’t do any good, because she set her sights on you from the first moment she arrived. Oh, she was nice enough to the rest of us, but we all knew we didn’t stand a chance.”

“If you believe she’s interested in me, then why’d you ask her to the dance?”

“Because she wasn’t working for you anymore. I figured she’d given up beating her head against a brick wall, pining for you, but I was wrong. She’s as stuck on you as ever. Poor woman.”

Christian chose to ignore the last part. “There’s nothing
between Mariah and me.” He was getting tired of having to explain it.

“That’s not what I hear.”

“And I’m saying whatever you heard isn’t true.” Christian had to struggle to keep his voice level.

“Then you don’t mind if the rest of us pursue her,” Bill asked, meeting his gaze evenly.

Christian opened his mouth to object, to tell them he felt responsible for Mariah’s welfare, but then he closed it. If he did protest, Bill would discount everything he’d just said.

“Sure,” he muttered, “but you don’t need my permission.” He’d talk to Mariah himself and offer her some advice regarding the so-called eligible men in Hard Luck.

As soon as he could extricate himself from the conversation, Christian made his way back to the office.

Duke had returned from the mail run into Fairbanks and was finishing up his paperwork when Christian stepped into the trailer. Mariah was nowhere in sight, and the pilot sat on a corner of her desk, one foot squarely planted on the floor, the other dangling. “So, how does it feel to have Mariah back?”

Christian laughed. “Like a reprieve from the warden.”

Duke set the clipboard aside. “Are you and Mariah going to make a formal announcement soon?”

“A what?” Christian’s patience was shot. “Listen, Duke, I wish you and everyone else would get this straight. Mariah and I are
not
romantically involved. We never have been and we never will be.”

The pilot didn’t bother to conceal his surprise. “You’re not?”

“Absolutely not!” To Christian’s relief, Mariah came out from the back room just then. “Ask her yourself,” he said heatedly, gesturing in her direction.

“Ask me what?” She looked from one man to the other.

“There appears to be a rumor about us floating around town.” Christian folded his arms over his chest.

“Well, if you two aren’t involved, what were you doing kissing in front of the entire town?” Duke asked.

If Christian had to explain this one more time, he’d scream. “It wasn’t what it looked like!”

Duke rubbed a hand across his beard with a reflective expression. “It looked obvious enough to me.”

“Tell him, Mariah,” Christian said.

She stared at him blankly.

“Mariah,” he said through gritted teeth, “this isn’t funny anymore.
Tell him.
”

“What do you want me to say?”

“The truth! That you and I are not involved. That we’re nothing more than friends.”

She turned to Duke, and it seemed to take her a long time to speak. “Christian and I are not involved. We’re…nothing more than friends.”

Christian threw his hands in the air. “I rest my case.”

I
T WAS EXTREMELY
unfortunate, Mariah felt, that she’d lacked the nerve to empty the coffeepot over Christian’s head. The man was an insensitive lout.

They were trapped together in the office all afternoon, and her anger simmered just below the surface, threatening to explode. The first time she slammed a file drawer closed, he leaped up from his chair. He looked at her and, coward that she was, all she did in response was smile. This was her problem in a nutshell. Christian O’Halloran had abused her good nature from the outset.

And she’d let him.

“I don’t blame you for being angry,” Christian said.

She sat back and studied him carefully. “You don’t?”

“Of course not. It makes me angry, too. The whole town is talking about us, and it’s grossly unfair—to you
and
me.”

Mariah clamped her teeth tightly shut as her frustration mounted.

“There must be some way we can dispel these rumors.”

“You seem to be doing a fine job of that,” she murmured. If he noticed the sarcasm in her voice, he ignored it.