Midnight Sons Volume 2 (29 page)

Joining Karen, he slipped an arm around her waist. If he hadn’t known she was pregnant, it would’ve been hard to tell. But he did know, and he found himself conscious of her thickening middle. Matt believed this baby was giving him a second chance with Karen.

“How about a dance?” he asked. He’d had a couple of beers with the guys and was feeling mellow. Mellow enough to put aside his inhibitions.

“A dance?” She gazed up at him, frowning slightly as if she wasn’t sure they should.

“One dance,” he pleaded softly. They were halfway onto the dance floor already; she could hardly refuse.

“One dance,” she echoed.

God was on his side, Matt decided, because the song was a lovely old ballad from the sixties, the music slow and sultry. Matt drew Karen into his arms, maintaining a respectable distance between them. Just enough to reassure her.

To his delight she leaned closer and pressed her head against his shoulder. “I love weddings,” she murmured.

She hummed along with the music, and Matt closed his eyes, remembering the days when she came to him without re
straint, without reserve. Remembering the times she’d freely shared her love.

One dance quickly became two, and then three. It felt so familiar—as if she’d never left him, never stopped loving him, never gone through with the divorce.

When Matt looked up, he noticed that a number of people had already left. By tacit agreement, he led Karen outside; together they strolled back to the lodge.

Once home it seemed only natural to kiss her. It was what he’d longed to do for weeks, what had been on his mind for days, ever since he’d learned they’d be attending the reception.

Karen sighed when his lips met hers. Knowing this was what they both wanted, Matt deepened the kiss. His heart nearly flew out of his chest at the way her arms tightened around him. He caressed her back, savoring her softness. He investigated the slender curve of her spine and sought the fullness of her hips. He pulled her closer, needing her, wanting her to know exactly how much.

“Karen, I love you. I’m crazy about you,” he whispered between kisses.

“Oh, Matt…”

He kissed her again with sweet desperation. “You know what I want,” he said huskily when the kiss ended.

Karen braced her forehead against his shoulder and drew in several deep breaths. “I…I think it’s time I went upstairs.”

“Upstairs? You mean you aren’t—you won’t—” He stopped abruptly. He opened his mouth to argue with her, then closed it, knowing there wasn’t any point.

“Good night, Matt,” she said, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for a lovely, romantic evening.” With that, she turned and walked up the stairs. Alone.

Karen had been more tempted to sleep with Matt than she ever wanted him to know. It shocked her how susceptible she was. She’d been in Hard Luck less than a month, and already he’d half persuaded her to accept his dream, the same way he had so many times before.

Already he had her believing in the lodge, in the feasibility of its success. Only, Karen should have known better—
did
know better. She’d walked that path too often not to recognize what awaited her at the end.

This latest scheme would be like all the others. Matt would completely win her over and then, when she least expected it, he’d abandon the entire venture for some ridiculous reason. Their past was riddled with such incidents. Her father had repeatedly done the same thing to her mother. It still astonished Karen that out of all the men in the universe, she had to marry one just like him. Yet, Karen reminded herself, she dearly loved her father. He had his faults, true, and they were glaring, but like Matt, he was a good man.

She could feel herself weakening. She loved living in Hard Luck and had quickly formed friendships. The sense of community and family was strong, and that appealed to her, especially now. People cared about each other. And like all of Alaska, the scenery here was spectacular.

From her bedroom window she had a stunning view of the Brooks Mountains. She could see blooming tundra, awash with colorful wildflowers. The beauty of the landscape was almost more than she could absorb.

It went without saying that in January, when the baby was due, the world outside her window would be a very different one. In the dead of winter, daylight would be minimal. Temperatures would dip to thirty and forty below. She’d lived in Alaska a long time, though, and that didn’t really alarm her.

Karen stood gazing out her window at the morning and mulled over the situation with Matt. What was it about weddings and slow dancing that weakened her resolve every time?

A bright red warning light had started flashing in her mind the moment Matt led her onto the dance floor. She’d known even before he kissed her what was likely to happen. Yet, wanting him the way she did, she’d been powerless to stop.

If she didn’t develop some control over her sexual attraction to him, it could definitely become a problem….

The obvious solution was to accept her parents’ offer to move to Anchorage and stay with them until the baby was born. The thought depressed her so much she immediately dismissed it. She closed her eyes, remembering all the places she’d lived as a child. They’d moved so often, never set down roots in any one town. Karen refused to live that migratory existence ever again. And she didn’t want to be reminded of all those distressing emotions, all those sad childhood times—especially when she was about to have a child of her own.

It took some doing to admit the truth: she didn’t want to
leave Hard Luck. Nor did she want to be separated from Matt, not now, not while she was pregnant.

Later, she told herself, after the baby was born she’d visit her parents before she headed back to California.

She dressed and wandered downstairs. Yawning, she stretched her arms high above her head, surprised by how good she felt.

Matt, who stood behind the reservation desk, glanced up at her. “You look well rested,” he murmured dryly.

“I am.” Briefly she wondered what had happened to his usual cheerful greeting. She’d heard a joke long ago that said there were two kinds of people in the world—those who woke up and said, “Good morning, God,” and those who said, “Good God, morning!” Karen had her own observation to add; she’d noticed that these two very different types of people often found one another—and married.

Matt fell into the chipper, lighthearted category and she into the other. Morning had never been her favorite time of day, although it was easier when she had a regular schedule. This basic difference between them went further than simply the way they reacted to mornings. Matt was an optimist; she, however, was a realist. Or so she’d always insisted.

This particular morning, however, she felt good—for no particular reason. She poured a glass of orange juice and carried it to the front desk. “I’m meeting Lanni today,” she said, sipping the juice.

Matt gave her a perfunctory nod, then resumed his study of the ledger.

“Is something bothering you?” she asked.

“Not a damn thing,” he snapped.

“My, my, we’re in a grumpy mood this morning.”

He glared at her.

Then it hit Karen like a ton of glacial ice. Her ex-husband was actually sulking because she’d refused to go to bed with
him. This wasn’t like Matt, either. As long as she’d known him, he’d never been subject to mood swings. Rarely, if ever, was Matt in a bad mood.

Some of the difficulties in their marriage had resulted from his almost childish insistence that everything would work out. Everything would be fine. He refused to look at any problem seriously, or even acknowledge there
was
a problem. This moody self-absorption was a side of him she hadn’t seen, and frankly it amused her. She smiled.

“What’s so funny?” he demanded.

“You. Matthew Caldwell, you’re pouting.”

“I most certainly am not.” He slammed the ledger closed. “If there’s anything wrong with me—and rest assured there isn’t—it’s that I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Karen didn’t ask why; she knew. Their pattern had been broken. The fighting, followed by the intense lovemaking. They’d made progress, whether Matt recognized it or not.

He released a long sigh and shook his head. With a quick wave Karen started out the door, eager to see Lanni.

“Karen.” Matt stopped her. “You said something last night that intrigued me.”

“I did?”

“Before you went upstairs, you thanked me for the romantic evening.”

“Yes?” she asked, not understanding his question.

“What made last night romantic?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. The way we danced, I guess. The way you held me, the way we kissed…”

“But you didn’t spend the night with me.”

This was another area of dissension that had often annoyed Karen. “Don’t confuse sex with romance. A woman likes to be…wooed.” She raised her eyebrows. “It’s an old-fashioned word, I know, but it’s exactly what I mean.”

“Wooed.” Matt repeated the word as if it contained magic. His eyes brightened.

“I suspect it’s not a good idea to tell you this, but you tempted me last night,” Karen said. “It was all I could do to refuse you.”

A cocky grin spread across his face. “Really.” A second later, he started to frown. “If that’s the case, why
did
you refuse me? You’ve got to know how much I love you, how much I want us to get back together again.”

She stared down at the floor, not ready to admit that she wanted it, too. “I need more time,” she said, knowing that sounded lame. But it was the truth.

“What if I wooed you like you said?” he suggested. “Would that help?”

She looked at Matt and trembled with dread. Because, without a doubt, it was already too late. She loved him, loved the lodge, loved living in Hard Luck.

“Karen?” he asked again.

“I think it might be a good thing for us both,” she answered. And then, afraid of what the future held, she hurried out the door.

Matt gleefully tossed his ballpoint pen in the air and caught it. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of this sooner. The solution was so simple! All this time, and he’d overlooked it.

He needed to prove to Karen that he loved her and—perhaps just as important—appreciated her. And he needed to do it clearly and conclusively. He had to give her a reason to marry him again—other than the obvious one that she was pregnant with his child. He’d assumed that should be enough, but if he’d learned anything in his four-year marriage it was that women were rarely practical when it came to matters of the heart.

With the same determination he’d brought to rebuilding the
lodge, he decided to take on the project of wooing back his ex-wife.

Soon, however, his grin faded. He set the pen down on the registration desk and wiped a hand across his suddenly damp brow.

Karen wanted to be wooed. How was he supposed to do that?

“What do you think?” Lanni asked, studying Karen as her friend turned to the last page. This was agony, and Lanni chewed her lower lip, anticipating Karen’s reaction to her latest article.

Charles had read the piece and raved about it, but Charles was her husband and, crazy as she was about him, she doubted he was a good judge of her work. According to him, she was brilliant. Although she loved him for believing that, she needed a less biased opinion.

Karen, on the other hand, could have been an editor.

Her former sister-in-law sighed and straightened the stack of pages.

“Well?” Lanni asked, barely giving Karen time to breathe. She yanked out the chair and sat across the table from her. “Tell me what you think. You don’t need to worry about upsetting me. I just want the truth.”

“The truth,” Karen repeated. “Lanni, this is a beautifully written piece.”

Lanni loved hearing it. “You think so? You really think so?”

“Have you decided where you want to submit it?”

Lanni named a nationwide, glossy travel periodical and waited for Karen to suggest she aim for a regional magazine, instead.

“Sounds like a good idea.”

“You think so?” Her vocabulary seemed to be limited to those three words.

“Lanni, you should have more confidence in your talent. This article about Mt. McKinley is one of the best-written and best-researched I’ve ever read. This past year…” She hesitated.

“I’m not sure how to put it, but there’s a maturity to your writing that was lacking earlier. I’m sure the apprenticeship program with the Anchorage paper helped, but you’ve acquired more than style or technical skill.”

Lanni hung on every word.

“Your work shows a new…depth.”

Loving Charles had done that for her; Lanni was convinced of it. Their love, their marriage, had changed her view of life, deepened her understanding of people, given her a greater sympathy and tolerance. Charles had also helped her develop a more profound appreciation for the land.

They’d waited eight months, until she’d finished the apprenticeship program, before they got married. If it had been her decision she would’ve married Charles last Christmas, but he’d been the one to insist they hold off until she’d fulfilled her obligation to the paper. He’d worried about the fact that he was ten years older, and it was almost as if he expected her to change her mind. But not once had she doubted that she was meant to be with Charles O’Halloran. Nor did she doubt his love.

For years their two families had hated each other. Catherine Fletcher, Lanni’s grandmother, had brought nothing but pain into the O’Hallorans’ lives. David O’Halloran, Charles’s father, was the only man her grandmother had ever loved. Yet Catherine had done all she could to hurt him, because he’d hurt her. Wrongs had been committed on both sides.

David and Catherine were both dead now. Lanni was sure they’d approve of her marriage and the reconciliation it had brought. Despite the animosity between their families, she and Charles had fallen in love. In some ways, she believed they were soul mates. Meant for each other. It sounded fanciful, but she’d come to think they’d been given this one opportunity to make up for the wrongs of the past.

“There’re a couple of typos,” Karen murmured, flipping through the pages. She pointed them out, then swallowed the last of her cold drink. “I wish I could put my finger on what’s changed in your writing.”

Lanni smiled to herself. She didn’t need Karen to tell her. She already knew.

Matt slid onto a stool in the Hard Luck Café. Anyone who needed advice sought out Ben Hamilton. Although he’d never been married most people thought of him as something of an expert when it came to relationships.

“Coffee?” Ben asked, gesturing with the pot.

“No, thanks. I came in for a little advice.” Matt wanted to get straight to the point.

“You’re not going to order anything?”

“No, I wanted to ask—”

“Listen, advice is no longer free,” Ben said. “You sit back and chow down on a piece of my homemade apple pie, and then I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“I’m not hungry,” Matt objected. He’d never known Ben to push food on anyone. “Business slow or something?”

“All these women in town aren’t exactly helping, you know? Every one of them’s got a kitchen, and if they don’t already have a family to cook for, they’re inviting the men in town to dinner. Business is down twenty percent from a year ago.”

It looked like Matt was going to be the one with the sympathetic ear.

“So that’s what the frequent-eater program’s all about?”

“Exactly.”

Matt understood Ben’s concern, and he did want to support the Hard Luck Café. “All right, give me a cup of coffee.” He was desperate enough to pay for coffee he didn’t want if Ben could help him win over Karen.

Ben nodded, obviously pleased. He filled Matt’s cup, then pressed his hands against the counter. “What can I do for you?”