Midnight Sons Volume 3 (20 page)

“I wanted to impress you.”

“You have.”

“Sure, with how big a fool I can be.”

“No,” he countered swiftly. He wrapped his good arm around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. Her heart thumped, and a quivery feeling took hold of her stomach. It was like this every time he touched her.

“You know,” she said wistfully, “I’ve never told anyone this, but I always wanted to be a whiz in the kitchen.” Publicly she’d scorned cooking as a reactionary pursuit, something that repressed women. And yet, secretly, she’d found it rather fascinating, although she’d firmly believed she couldn’t afford to indulge in traditional female activities. Her rebellious nature had kept her out of the kitchen. Until now.

No man had ever mattered to her more than Duke. Over the years she’d dated lots of men, but she’d never wanted to impress any of them with her culinary talents. Only Duke.

She’d learn, she decided, and feel good about it. She understood now that preparing a meal for someone you loved wasn’t demeaning or repressive at all. It was another way of showing your love.
Not
that she’d be trading in her briefcase for an apron on a full-time basis!

M
ONDAY MORNING
Ben came down the stairs from his apartment to find Mary with her arms elbow-deep in bread dough.

“Mornin’,” he greeted in the same gruff tone he generally used.

“Mornin’.” Mary didn’t turn to look at him.

Ben exhaled sharply. They hadn’t spoken since she’d rushed out of the café Friday evening. He was a crusty old bachelor who’d somehow managed to offer the men who sought his help advice on romance. But for himself, he wasn’t sure how to even
talk
to a woman.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and eyed Mary, wondering where to start. Normally he planned the day’s menu, and they worked companionably together.

“Looks like snow,” he said, although he hadn’t so much as glanced at the sky.

“Good chance,” she returned.

“One year at the beginning of October we got twenty inches in a single day.”

Mary made no comment, but continued to knead the dough with practiced hands.

Ben waited—for what, he didn’t know. “Damn it, Mary!” he barked.

She jumped at the sound of his voice, increasing his sense of guilt.

“Say something,” he ordered.

She finally turned to face him, her eyes flashing fire. “And just what do you want me to say?”

“You wanted to talk to me about baking your rolls for the Caldwells, right?”

“Yes,” she said huffily, “but you made it plain you weren’t interested, so I dropped the matter.”

“I thought you were going to ask me to give you a raise. I don’t want to sound cheap or anything, but you’ve barely started working here and—”

“A raise?” she cried as if he’d insulted her.

“What else was I to think?”

Mary planted her hands on her hips and glared at him.

Ben knew he owed her an explanation, but he felt awkward making it. He wasn’t accustomed to explaining his actions, and it bothered him that he needed to do it now. “I haven’t had many employees over the years.”

“So I gathered,” she said, and it seemed to him that her voice was a bit less exasperated. “I wasn’t asking for any raise, Ben Hamilton. All I wanted to know was whether you’d mind if I baked an extra batch or two of my cinnamon rolls for the Caldwells’ guests, come winter.”

Ben nodded, indicating she should continue.

“Naturally I wouldn’t bake during the hours I’d be working for you.”

“Naturally,” he echoed.

“It would mean staying in town one weekend a month and using the ovens on Saturday mornings. I’ll miss visiting my grandchildren, but that can’t be helped.”

Ben often used the ovens himself on the weekend.

“Of course, I’d bake in the morning so you’d have free use of the ovens later in the day.”

Ben could see she’d thought everything through.

“Since I’d be using your kitchen and your ovens,” she went on, “I’d be willing to pay you whatever you felt was fair.”

“I see. Are the Caldwells supplying the ingredients?”

“No, I’ll pay for those myself.”

Ben could see a problem in the making. He didn’t know how they were going to keep everything separate. Her flour, his flour. Her butter, his butter.

He mentioned this.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” she murmured.

“Perhaps we could sell the cinnamon rolls as a Hard Luck Café specialty. You could bake while you’re on duty here, and we’d divide the profits.” As far as Ben could see, his idea was advantageous to them both.

Their eyes met and Mary smiled shyly. “That sounds good.”

“Does that mean you agree?” he asked.

“Yes. Thank you, Ben,” she said, and returned to her dough.

The woman might be skinny, but she knew how to cook. And bake. Furthermore, she seemed to know just how to bend his will to her own. And for the first time in his life, Ben didn’t object to bending a little.

He’d stopped thinking of Mary as a nuisance. To his surprise, they worked well together. He no longer minded sharing his kitchen with another cook, and the fact that Mary was a woman hardly bothered him at all.

N
OT ONCE
in the week that followed did Duke say anything about returning to Hard Luck. Tracy didn’t press him for fear
he’d think she’d grown tired of his company. Nothing could be further from the truth. If anything, she’d come to rely on spending all her spare time with him.

He brought her the plans he’d had drawn up for his house, and together they’d gone over each detail. It astonished her that anyone would undertake such a project, but Duke seemed to know what he was doing. At any rate, he revealed no qualms. According to what he’d told her, he could have the project completed the next summer. True, he’d need help with certain aspects of the construction, but he’d already lined that up.

Tracy was working on a project of her own. She was teaching herself to cook. With the guidance of a basic cookbook, she practiced making a number of uncomplicated recipes. She didn’t let Duke know what she was doing, hoping to surprise him in the near future.

Janice stopped off at Tracy’s office just before five-thirty one day.

“You seeing your friend again this weekend?” she asked.

Tracy, fresh from the courthouse, was eager to escape. To her great relief, the trial had ended that afternoon; to her even greater relief, she’d won. Now she looked forward to seeing Duke with no distractions or obligations to worry about. Before his visit she’d always been one of the last to leave the building. Not anymore.

“Yes,” she said, slipping some papers she needed to read into her briefcase. “We’re driving to Leavenworth early Saturday morning and spending the day there.” Tracy looked forward to the trip with childlike excitement.

“Are you getting serious about this guy?” Janice pressed.

“Yes,” Tracy replied. She
was
serious, very serious. Neither one had discussed it, but Tracy knew Duke felt the same way about her.

He must.

Janice crossed her arms and leaned against the side of Tracy’s desk. “Gavin asked about you the other day,” she said casually.

Gavin seemed like a stranger. Tracy could hardly believe the two of them had once dated—or that she’d ever seen him as more than a friend.

Gavin took pride in being sensitive to a woman’s needs; he always agreed with Tracy on social, political and sexual issues. He kept current on the latest trends and “correct” ideas. He never
argued
with her, never expressed an outrageous opinion. He was a good person, but compared to Duke, he was boring.

Duke wasn’t insensitive, Tracy had discovered. The things he’d said and done in the past had been part of a game with him. He’d looked for ways to irritate her, enjoyed sparring with her, delighted in provoking her. Granted, he was a traditionalist and they’d never agree on everything. That, she figured, should keep life interesting for both of them. She understood now that she’d willingly participated in their volleys, that they were an effective way of dealing with her attraction to him. And vice versa, she strongly suspected.

“Tell Gavin I said hello the next time you see him,” Tracy replied without giving the matter much thought.

“He asked me out,” Janice announced. She seemed to be waiting for Tracy to object.

“I hope you accepted,” she said, snapping her briefcase shut.

“I thought I should talk to you first,” her friend said, sounding awkward and unsure. “I mean…I know you like Duke, but eventually he’s going to leave, and then there’ll be Gavin again.” She flung a stray lock off her shoulder in a gesture that looked like a challenge.

“There’ll be Gavin again,” Tracy repeated.

“He’s crazy about you.”

“No, he isn’t,” Tracy said, almost laughing. “You just think he is. Listen, Janice, I haven’t got time to talk now—I’m meeting Duke. If you want my permission to date Gavin, you’ve got it.”

Janice didn’t say anything for a moment. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely positive.”

“What…what if things don’t work out between you and Duke?”

“They will,” she said with utmost confidence. Duke might not know it yet, but he’d find out soon enough. She reached for her briefcase and smiled. “As for Gavin—go get him, Jan. He’s all yours.”

Her friend returned a brilliant smile. “Thanks, Trace.”

“No problem,” she said on her way out the door. She should’ve recognized that Janice was interested in Gavin much sooner, and was sorry it had taken her so long. She had an excuse, though: love had blinded her.

T
HE FOLLOWING MORNING
Duke and Tracy headed out of Seattle on their way to the German town of Leavenworth. Duke drove her car. Tracy had packed a picnic lunch full of goodies from the deli, and the day stretched before them like an unplanned adventure.

“You’re going to love this,” Tracy assured him. “The entire town celebrates Octoberfest.”

“The only Leavenworth I’ve ever heard of is a prison,” he mumbled, and took his eye off the road long enough to glance her way.

“This is no prison,” Tracy said, then went on to describe the
town with its elaborate old-European buildings. “It’s like stepping into a fairy tale,” she concluded.

Duke frowned. “A fairy tale. We’re driving three hours for that?”

“A fairy tale with beer,” she amended.

Duke grinned. “Now you’re talkin’.”

Tracy rested her head against his shoulder. “The most amazing thing happened to me last night,” she said, remembering her short conversation with Janice.

“Oh?”

“My friend—a good friend, at that—asked me if I minded if she went out with Gavin.”

“Mr. Sensitive?”

“Right.”

“What did you tell her?”

Tracy thought she heard an edge in Duke’s voice. Was he jealous? “There’s no need to worry.”

“I’m not worried,” he insisted. But when she didn’t continue the conversation, he prodded her. “Aren’t you going to tell me your answer?”

“I thought you weren’t worried.”

“I’m not, but I’ll admit to being mildly curious. After all, this is the very man you used to toss in my face as a paragon of virtue.”

“Oh, hardly.”

“You most certainly did,” he said with ill-disguised impatience.

“As far as I’m concerned, Janice can do whatever she wants with Gavin.”

Duke gave her a cocky smile. “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

“Oh, are we getting overconfident or what?” she teased.

“No,” he answered simply. “I don’t have any hold on you. You can see anyone you please. It just so happens that
I
please you.”

At one time, not so distant, his words would have inflamed her. Now they amused her.

She was surprised when Duke grew quiet. She enjoyed the playful banter they often exchanged.

“Tracy,” he said, his voice harsh with regret, “I have to get back to Hard Luck.”

She opened her mouth to protest and knew it would do no good. He’d already stayed far longer than she’d had any right to hope.

“Trust me, sweetheart, I don’t want to go, but I have to.”

“When?” she asked, trying to hide her dread.

“Soon. In a couple of days.”

“When will I see you again?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t get down this way very often.”

“I probably won’t be able to fly up to Hard Luck until spring.” And spring seemed a million years away. Tracy couldn’t bear the thought of waiting until the ice broke on the rivers before she saw Duke again.

The silence between them grew oppressive. “There’s one option,” she said.

“You mean meeting halfway? I’ve thought about that and—”

“No.” She cut him off, thinking fast. Her eyes rounded with excitement. “There’s another way.”

“I’ve thought about it over and over,” Duke said, sounding discouraged, “and I can’t come up with anything.”

“But, Duke, did you ever consider the obvious?” She paused. “We could get married!”

“M
ARRIED
?” D
UKE ALMOST
drove off the road. He couldn’t believe his ears. Married? Him? To Tracy? The woman needed her head examined.

First, he wasn’t the marrying kind. Never had been, never would be. Second, Tracy? And
him?
A polished city woman and an outdoors guy? A sophisticated attorney and a down-and-dirty Alaskan bush pilot? Forget it!

“Well?” Tracy said excitedly, studying him. “What do you think?”

Duke opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Myriad objections tangled themselves on the end of his tongue. Then, because he couldn’t formulate a clear response, he said tartly, “In case you need reminding, there are certain things the man does in a relationship, and proposing marriage is one of them.”

“Fine. I’m listening.” She laid her head on his shoulder, and the warm feelings he’d experienced every time they were together, every time they touched, continued. As soon as he
saw the stars in her eyes, he should’ve realized what was going on in that brilliant mind of hers. He wanted to slap himself upside the head for even making this trip to Seattle. All he’d managed to do was set them up for trouble.

Marriage.
That was how a woman’s mind worked. Duke had assumed, had hoped, that a career-oriented woman like Tracy would be different. She wasn’t.

“I’m waiting,” she said, and smiled up at him, her eyes so bright they nearly blinded him.

Duke swallowed uncomfortably. “Sweetheart, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I most certainly do,” she insisted.

Duke knew he was walking onto a tightrope without a safety net, but he also knew he couldn’t avoid the subject. “It’s only natural that you should feel close to me, seeing what we’ve been through. But it’s not enough to…” He let his words trail off. Yes, they shared a closeness that went beyond the usual male-female relationship. They’d faced death and had bonded in ways that took most folks years to achieve. And while it was true that he harbored few of the resentments he’d originally felt toward Tracy, he wasn’t anywhere close to considering marriage.

“In other words, you don’t feel anything special for me, even though—”

“I didn’t say that,” he interrupted.

“Then explain yourself, Duke Porter.” She raised her head from his shoulder, and sat up straight as a pool cue, sliding closer to the passenger door.

“Let’s discuss this later,” he suggested, wanting to delay the argument until they’d both had time to give the subject some rational thought. But he knew that no matter how much thinking he did, he wasn’t going to change his mind. Any kind
of long-term arrangement between them was impossible. For many reasons.

“I’d prefer that we talk about it now,” Tracy persisted.

He should’ve known she wasn’t going to let it drop this easily. Figuring it would be impossible to talk about this
and
drive safely, he exited the freeway. He didn’t know the name of this city, only that it was north of Seattle. He followed the signs to a city park.

Neither spoke until he pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine. There were trees everywhere, their leaves brilliant shades of orange and red, but Duke barely noticed.

“All right,” he said, and expelled his breath slowly, dreading what was sure to come. “Since you insist, let’s air this here and now.”

“You make it sound like we’re about to put up our dukes and fight.” She paused and smiled thinly. “No pun intended.”

Grateful for her light remark, Duke grinned. Maybe they could both laugh off the marriage suggestion. It would save her pride and his freedom.

Sure he loved her; he was willing to admit that. He loved her as much as he did any woman, possibly more. All right,
definitely
more, but that still didn’t mean he was ready to settle down for the rest of his life.

“Marriage? Can’t you see that it’d be a disaster with us?”

“No,” she answered fiercely.

“Sweetheart, think about it. You and me? We’re different people.”

“I should hope so.”

This wasn’t going well. Not well at all. Already he could feel the noose tightening around his neck, and he wasn’t going to let that happen. He tried a different approach.

“We live in different worlds. I don’t fit in yours, and you sure don’t fit in mine.”

“I love Hard Luck,” she said, her tone heartfelt.

“Sure, it’s a great town—I couldn’t agree with you more. But your work is here and mine is there. I’ve enjoyed my time in Seattle, but if you didn’t live here, I’d’ve left within a couple of days.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t deal well with this many people around me twenty-four hours a day. I need elbow room, and lots of it.”

“I’m not asking you to move to Seattle,” she said.

“You’re not suggesting you move to Hard Luck, are you?” Try as he might, Duke couldn’t picture Tracy living in the Arctic.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Tracy,” he said, laughing softly, “have you lost your mind?”

Her eyes held his for a long time. “No,” she whispered. “I’ve lost my heart. I love you, Duke. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to help you build that house you’ve planned, and then, God willing, I want us to fill those bedrooms with children. Our children.”

Her words fell like a sword, cutting him to the bone. His mind immediately filled with the sound of children’s laughter, and the allure was so strong he was forced to close his eyes and concentrate in order to banish it.

Home. Children.
She sure was good, but then Duke knew that; after all, he’d seen her in action in a courtroom.

But it wouldn’t work, not this time. If she didn’t recognize that, then he did.

Duke had tried to be part of her world, and it had cost him five hundred dollars for a suit he’d probably never wear again. He’d been snubbed by an arrogant waiter because he pre
ferred ranch dressing. He’d never paid more for a few leaves of lettuce, even in Alaska, than he had in that fancy restaurant. He’d done all that in an effort to impress Tracy, and the only thing he’d gained—he suspected it was a bargain—was the realization that he’d never be comfortable in the big city.

For her part, Tracy had tried to fit into his life, too. If he’d ever doubted she loved him, all he had to do was remember the dinner she’d slaved over on his behalf.

If he didn’t love her as much as he did, he would’ve laughed himself silly that night. As it was, he’d been determined to chew every bite, smile and compliment her even if it killed him. And if the first taste was a sample of what was to follow, it just might have.

Tracy living in Hard Luck? As much as Duke enjoyed the notion, he was smart enough to realize it wouldn’t work. Besides, there were other more obvious considerations.

“Your career is here in Seattle,” he reminded her.

“I can get licensed to practice law in Alaska.”

He didn’t want to argue with her. It seemed pointless to tell her there wasn’t enough work to keep even one attorney employed in Hard Luck. And any cases there were would be minor stuff—wills, maybe a few contracts—not the exciting criminal cases she’d trained for.

She might assume she loved him now, especially in light of what they’d been through together, but that attraction would soon wear off. Once she was subjected to everyday life during an Arctic winter, she’d grow bored and restless. The last thing he wanted was for Tracy to marry him and regret it later.

As gently as he could, Duke said, “It won’t work. I wish I was different, but I’m not. I can’t move to Seattle, and you’d never be happy in Hard Luck.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he stopped her. “Hear me out. If I was ever tempted to marry anyone, it would be you. But you’re missing the entire point.

“I believe in family, but I like my life just the way it is. I’m free to go where I want, when I want, without the responsibility of a wife or kids. And frankly that’s the way it’s going to stay.”

“I don’t intend to lock you away in a closet for the rest of your life,” she snapped.

Duke could see he was waging a battle of words with an expert. Tracy was capable of swaying a twelve-person jury with her arguments. He didn’t stand a chance if he continued.

“Listen,” he said, his voice gaining strength and conviction, “you took it upon yourself to ask, although I see that as the man’s prerogative. Okay, then I suggest you be ‘man’ enough to accept my answer, and that answer is no. I don’t
want
to be married, and I’m not going to let you persuade me otherwise. Understand?”

“Perfectly,” she answered in a clipped voice.

Duke immediately regretted the harsh words. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He wanted to kick himself for flying to Seattle and giving in to the need to see Tracy. If anyone was to blame for this fiasco, he knew where to look.

The mirror.

L
ANNI
O’H
ALLORAN
was as nervous as she was excited. Charles was due home that afternoon after three weeks in the field.

She’d known long before they were married that, as a geologist, he was required to make these trips. The first few months of their marriage he’d managed to get home every few days.
Not this time. Charles had been gone a full twenty-one days, and it’d felt like that many years to Lanni.

In an effort to exhaust her emotional energy, she cleaned house and planned a gourmet dinner. But it wasn’t food Charles would be thinking about when he walked in that door, and Lanni knew it.

A soft smile touched her lips.

So much had happened in the time he’d been away. She’d sold another article, this one to a glossy women’s magazine. With extra hours on her hands, she’d dabbled in writing fiction. She wasn’t sure how successful it was. But her sister-in-law Karen had read the short story and liked it.

There was far more important news than her most recent sale, though. News she couldn’t wait to tell her husband.

Lanni glanced at the clock and sighed, wishing the hands would move faster.

Every time a car drove past the house she found herself racing to the front window, hoping it was Charles.

Her news wouldn’t keep much longer. She felt it would burst forth the minute he walked in. It wasn’t every day a wife could announce she was pregnant.

She’d kept the information to herself a full seven days now, and she was finding secrecy more and more difficult. But it didn’t seem fair to share her excitement with her friends when her own husband didn’t know.

Charles had wanted to wait until they were married for a year before she became pregnant, and Lanni had agreed. But eight months was
close
to a year.

Their original plan had sounded good—until Karen had come to Hard Luck, pregnant, and Lanni found herself longing for a baby, too.

Her brother, Matt, and Karen had been divorced at the time Karen discovered she was carrying Matt’s baby. She’d served as Lanni’s maid of honor at the wedding, and things had progressed from there. Really, everything had worked out beautifully. There was no telling how long it would’ve taken those two to come to their senses if not for the pregnancy.

Within a couple of months, Matt and Karen were back together and they’d remarried soon afterward.

No sooner had Lanni heard the happy news about Karen’s baby than Charles’s brother Sawyer informed them Abbey was pregnant.

Sawyer and Abbey were ecstatic. Sawyer was still walking two inches above the ground and had from the minute Abbey told him the news. The last Lanni had heard, Sawyer had purchased a case of cigars and was handing them out to his friends. Their daughter wasn’t born yet!

Charles had been pleased for his brother and Abbey, but he’d still felt they should wait the full year.

Waiting wasn’t Lanni’s strong suit. She’d agreed to postpone the wedding for eight painful months while she finished her apprenticeship with the Anchorage paper. Charles didn’t want her to regret their marriage and had insisted she complete the program. She’d done it, but had been miserable a lot of that time, missing him terribly.

The door swung open. Lanni couldn’t believe she hadn’t heard the truck. Charles stood just inside their living room, as compellingly virile and handsome as ever. No, more so.

“Charles!”

He dropped his backpack onto the carpet and held out his arms. Lanni didn’t need any further encouragement. She ran across the room and hurled herself into them. Even after eight
months of marriage, her heart felt as if it would explode with joy at the love she saw in his eyes.

Charles gathered her close. Before she could speak, his mouth met hers in a kiss potent enough to buckle her knees. He told her with that one kiss how lonely he’d been, how much he’d missed her, how glad he was to be home.

The kiss went on and on, and probably would’ve lasted even longer if Lanni hadn’t been bursting with news.

She pulled her lips from his. “Charles, I’ve got wonderful news!”

“Later,” he said, lifting her from the floor and bringing her mouth level with his. “What have you done to me, woman?” he whispered, kissing her repeatedly. “I’ve never missed anyone so much in my life.”

“Good. Now you know how I’ve felt.”

“I need a shower,” he said, bringing his arms around her waist.

“Dinner’s in the oven.”

“It’s not food that interests me,” he said, and chuckled.

“I’ve been your wife long enough to know exactly where your interests lie, Charles O’Halloran.” She braced her hands against his shoulders. “Now, look at me, because I’ve got something important to tell you.”

“You made another sale?” he guessed.

“Yes, but that’s not it.” Tears of joy filled her eyes and she cupped his face with her hands. “I…we’re going to have a baby.”

Apparently her news shocked him, because his hold slackened and he released her. She slid down and landed with a thud on her own two feet. Dismay widened his eyes.

“I know you wanted to wait a year,” she rushed to say, “but we’ve been married over eight months.”

Charles walked to the ottoman and slumped onto it. “Pregnant?” Almost immediately he was back on his feet. “I need a drink.” He walked into the kitchen and brought down a whiskey bottle from the cupboard above the stove.