Читать книгу From Out Of The Blue - Nadia Nichols - Страница 10

MITCH WAS SURPRISED to see Wally’s Harley parked outside the warming shack. He must’ve had a fight with Campy, but it couldn’t have been a bad one because Campy’s old Subaru was parked right next to the shiny bike. Wally came out when he heard the truck and the first thing he said was “Where the hell you been all day?” as if he’d been working his ass off since before sunup.

“In Talkeetna, picking up the part for your plane, which, by the way, didn’t want to start this morning. Good to see you, too, boss. Didn’t expect to, being as it’s a Monday.”

“Polar Express called to thank us for the referral of the German climbers. Said they made a great tip off that one. I came over to see what was wrong.”

“Plane’s broke, as usual. That’s what was wrong.”

Wally was fiftysomething, bald, overweight and often-times contentious, but he could work wonders with the Stationair and was a passable pilot for a guy who was mostly self-taught. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with Babe. She started right up for me. Hand over the fuel filter.”

“How’d you know that was the part I went to get?”

“I’m psychic. Thought I told you to leave that damn dog at home.”

Mitch looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, Thor was standing with his front paws on the diamond-plate toolbox wearing that sly wolfish grin. “Thor, I thought I told you to stay the hell home!” Thor’s ears flattened back and he wagged his tail in response. Mitch looked back at Wally. “The bad news is, we lost a job this morning because of that clogged filter. The good news is, Raider called last night and said he’s seriously considering my latest offer for the Porter.”

“We can’t afford that plane. Thought we already had this discussion.” Wally was fishing in his pockets for a half-smoked cigar, which he stuck in his mouth and lit.

“Where’s Campy?”

“Inside.”

“Campy! Get out here, woman. I need you to bear witness. Wally’s changing his story on me again.”

The door to the airfield’s warming hut opened a crack and a thin face framed by bleached blond hair stuck out, cigarette dangling from pouty red lips. She looked to be in the same kind of mood as Wally. “Go to hell, Mitch, and take that bastard with you,” she snarled around the cigarette and slammed the door again.

“I told Raider I could have the money by next week,” Mitch said, as he followed Wally toward the plane. “If we called Yance, he’d front us the money, and if I had it in hand I know Raider’d except my offer. We could sell the Stationair and pay back some of that loan right away.”

“We ain’t selling Babe and we ain’t buying a Pilatus/Fairchild Porter. It’s a good plane, I’m not arguing with you on that score, but Raider wants too much for it. Thinks its a goddamn Concorde jet. Besides, Yance’ll tack a high interest on that loan if he’d even give it to us. He’s a friggin’ shark. Bottom line, we can’t afford it.”

“The price is fair and the plane’s in great shape. Dependable. Flying a plane like that will boost our business a hundredfold. You know it’s true and you know we need it, and I think Yance’ll back us, so just bite the bullet and get it over with.” Mitch jammed his hands in his jeans pockets, ducked his head and rounded his shoulders, hesitating. “Forget the plane for a minute and tell me what you think about this. This woman I knew over four years ago, Navy pilot, suddenly shows up out of the blue, and she…”

Wally stopped abruptly, turned and took the cigar out of his mouth. “K. C. Jones?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“It’s not rocket science. It was my saloon you wooed her in back at Eielson, and you showed us the article about her in Air Force magazine. She’s here, in Alaska?”

“She’s out at my place.”

“And you’re standing here, talking to me? You big dumb son of a bitch. Hey, Campy!” he bellowed toward the closed door of the warming hut. “You think I’m uncaring and heartless? Listen to how Mitch treats his women!”

“C’mon, Wally, cut me some slack,” Mitch said. “I need your advice.”

“Campy, you’re missing out. Mitchell McCray is asking for my input on a romantic matter.”

The warming hut door opened and Campy reemerged, dressed in tight hip-hugger jeans and a stretch Lycra top that barely concealed Wally’s two best friends. She slouched against the doorway with a frown. “Mitchell,” she drawled, “if you’re desperate enough to take advice from Wally about matters of the heart, I feel real sorry for whoever your latest girlfriend is.”

“It’s that hot Navy pilot who was written up in that air force magazine last fall,” Wally said. “Mitch showed it to us. Remember? She’s out at his place even as we speak.”

“No kidding?” Campy tossed her long blond hair back and took a drag of her cigarette, regarding Mitch through narrowed eyes. “If she looks as good in real life as she did on the cover of that magazine, you don’t want to be making any mistakes with her.”

“I just want to know why the hell she’s here,” he said. “Not a word of warning, she just lands on my doorstep. She must want something. I just don’t know what.”

“She wants you, Mitch,” Wally guffawed. “A career bachelor like you should know all the signals by now.”

“One thing’s for sure. It’s not your money she’s after.” Campy flicked the cigarette down and ground it out beneath one of her fancy, hand-tooled, black Tony Llama cowboy boots. “Tell you what. The two of you get that plane fixed and back in the air so we can all keep eating, and I’ll take Thor back to your cabin. That woman shouldn’t be there without a dog, not when the salmon are getting ready to run and the bears are walking that creek.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Mitch said.

“Campy’s got a point,” Wally said. “Might be good if she took the dog back to your place. They can meet each other and have some girl talk.”

“Girl talk?”

“Trust me, they thrive on that stuff, and Campy’ll find out more about where that woman’s coming from than you could in a whole year of beating around the bush.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Look, you wanna know why this chick showed up on your doorstep or not? Send Campy over. You’ll get the lowdown without all the dancing around.”

Campy gave Mitch’s arm a squeeze. “Hon, I hate more than you’ll ever know to say this, but this one time, Wally’s right. I’ll go scope things out.”

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Campy, but…”

“Hey, what are friends for? Keys in the truck?”

“Yeah, but…”

“You like this gal, or don’t you?”

Mitch ran his fingers through his hair. “I like lots of girls. I just don’t know why this one’s here, and I don’t want you playing matchmaker on my behalf.”

Campy gave him an innocent look. “What do you mean?”

“You’re always trying to pair me off, but I like bachelorhood just fine.”

“That’s only because you haven’t gotten to know the right woman yet.” Campy turned and walked away. When she reached the driver’s side door, she glanced back over her shoulder before hoisting herself into the cab. “Don’t look so worried, Mitch. I promise I’ll behave.”

KATE SPENT a half an hour just browsing through Mitch’s books after touring the comfortable, homey interior of the main cabin, which wasn’t nearly as messy as he’d warned her it would be. Aside from some clothing tossed over various pieces of rustic furniture, it was quite neat. His kitchen sink was empty of dishes, the counters were wiped down and the floor swept. His bedroom was in the loft and consisted of a double mattress laid on the bare wood floor with a down comforter over the top and a window that was opened wide to the outside air. The downstairs was one large room, the kitchen and living area divided by a big brick chimney that hosted a woodstove on one side and a fireplace on the other. The cavernous fireplace was on the living-room side, where the bookcase was located. Most of the books were paperbacks, some were hardcovers, and there was one magazine lying flat on the shelf: the Air Force magazine that featured her as the cover girl. She wondered at the man who had tucked that magazine among all those books by authors as diverse as Albert Einstein, Jack London and Thor Heyerdahl.

She ran her fingers over the gilt letters embossed into an old leather bound volume of poetry printed in 1876 and carried it with her onto the porch, where the sound of rushing water lulled her senses. She lowered herself into one of the comfortable Adirondack-style chairs and sat for a few moments, wondering if this was wise. She might very well fall asleep with that beautiful creek calming her and the sun’s warmth soaking into her. But what harm would a short nap do? Mitch wouldn’t be back for at least an hour, and it was so peaceful here.

She could easily imagine Hayden clattering down the porch steps with his fishing rod and his dog. This place was made for little boys to grow up in, and for dogs to keep them company while they did. She sighed and opened the book to a random page, trying but not quite able to imagine Mitch reading poetry. She scanned the first line of the chosen poem and before she could finish the second, a curious lethargy soaked through her bones. On impulse she removed her wig, relishing the feel of cool air and warm sun against her scalp.

She’d worn the wig in public since she was first discharged from the hospital after losing her hair. Her mother had handed her the box and said, “I thought you might want the option of wearing this until your own grows back. The hair’s real.”

Kate had opened the box, sure she’d be repulsed, but to please her mother she’d taken it out and put it on. Studying herself in the bathroom mirror she’d thought, Yes, this is much better. I like me much better this way. With the addition of the false eyelashes and a little eyebrow pencil, she looked almost normal. Healthy.

But she was all alone here, so she dropped the wig in her lap, tipped her head back, closed her eyes and let herself drift off to the sound of the water, wondering what her little boy would look like in ten years’ time….

Seconds later, it seemed, she was awakened by the sound of a truck door slamming. Kate sat bolt upright, blinking sleep from her eyes, and was still smoothing the wig into place when the stranger topped the porch steps. She’d expected Mitch and was shocked to see a very buxom bleached blonde dressed in clothes that left little to the imagination.

“Well, hey, hon,” the woman said in a smoky southern drawl. “I’m real sorry to startle you. Were you sleepin’?”

“Who…?”

“I’m Campy, a friend of Mitch’s, and I sure didn’t mean to wake you. I brought Thor back because he chases planes down the runway and Mitch was busy helping Wally fix the plane, that’s all. You just sit right where you are, all nice and relaxed, and I’ll be right back.” She retreated into the cabin and reappeared holding two bottles of Guinness Stout. She handed one to Kate and then dropped into the second chair. “Hope you like a bitter brew. That’s all Mitch ever drinks,” she said. “And I hope I didn’t startle you too bad. Sorry about that.”

“That’s okay,” Kate said, holding the cold bottle. “I must have dozed off. It’s so peaceful here.”

“Boring, I’d call it, but I guess it all depends on what you like. So, you’re the one Mitch calls K. C. Jones.”

Good God. Kate closed her eyes on the world for a few moments, wishing she could just disappear. Mitch had talked about her to this woman? “Is that what he calls me?”

She heard Campy settle herself more deeply in her chair, followed by the sharp snick of a lighter, and then smelled the acrid smoke of a cigarette. “Honey, you may not know this and I doubt he’ll ever tell you, but Mitch has a real soft spot for you.”

Kate opened her eyes and stared cynically at the other woman, whom she decided couldn’t be one of Mitch’s girlfriends if she was talking like that. She eased back in her chair and set the bottle of beer on the broad armrest. “That’s a little hard to believe, considering we haven’t seen each other in years.”

“Oh, Mitch would never admit to it. Tough guys don’t like gals to think they’re so easily roped and tied, but I used to be a bartender at the Mad Dog Saloon, which was a mile or so from the base. I served up a lot of brew to Mitch while he was stationed there, and hon, nobody hears more stories told from the heart than a bartender does. He talked about you a lot.”

“I can’t imagine what he talked about,” Kate said drily.

“Oh, he thought you were pretty special,” Campy said. “He’s a hard worker and a great pilot. I don’t know what Wally’d do without him. Wally owned the Mad Dog ’til it burned down, then he used the insurance money to buy a six-passenger plane and start the charter service. He’s a great mechanic but he can’t fly so good, so he hired Mitch to do most of that. My guy Wally is your guy’s boss.”

“He’s not my guy.”

“Well, if he isn’t, he oughta be. My opinion, of course. Mitchell’s always been a favorite of mine. If I didn’t have Wally, I’d go after Mitch myself, even though I’m a little too old for him. But he’s one in a million. I guess you know that, too, hon, or you wouldn’t be here, would you?”

“Oh, I’m sure he has a girlfriend. I didn’t come here thinking he’d been saving himself for me all these years.”

“I think he always hoped you’d show up here one day. Mitch has lots of friends, but none have come close to being serious relationships.”

“I’m surprised he even remembered me.”

“Remembered you? Hon, how else would I know he called you K. C. Jones?”

Kate gave her another skeptical look. “My real name’s Katherine Carolyn Jones.”

“Camilla Clarke,” she said, giving her a crooked smile. “Everyone around here calls me Campy. You like Alaska?”

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s boring,” she said. “I’d go back east in a minute, but Wally likes the flying here. Pilots are a crazy-ass bunch, no offense intended.”

“None taken.”

“I mean, I think it’s pretty cool, you being a Navy pilot and all. Mitch said you were an instructor at that dogfighting school the Navy has—like in Top Gun. Pretty wild stuff.”

“That was a good assignment. I got to be home every night with my son.”

Two carefully plucked and penciled eyebrows shot up. “You have a kid? Huh. He never told us that.” Campy studied her through a haze of cigarette smoke. “You married?”

“No.”

“How old’s your kid?”

“He’ll be four next month.”

“Hmm. Interesting.” Campy squinted her eyes and stared off across the river for a few moments, then glanced back at Kate with a knowing expression. “How long are you staying?”

“A week or so.”

“If I’d been smarter, that’s all I’d have stayed.” Campy drained the last of her beer and, pushing to her feet, she dropped her cigarette into the bottle and tossed the hair out of her eyes. “Mitch means a lot to me ’n’ Wally. I sure hope the two of you can work things out.”

BY THE TIME Campy drove his pickup back to the airfield, Mitch was pacing around the plane amidst mechanical noises and cuss words from beneath the plane’s cowling, while Wally growled for various tools to be passed to him.

Campy’d been gone a long time. What the hell could the two of them have been talking about? They had nothing in common. Campy was a fortysomething professional bartender who hadn’t graduated high school, couldn’t spell and liked to smoke, drink and ride on Wally’s Harley. Her one ambition in life was to train circus ponies. What kind of conversation could she have possibly been having with a career captain in the United States Navy? And finally, here she was, driving up to the warming hut with Thor in the back, his front feet braced on the diamond-plate toolbox cover and wearing his sly, wolfish grin.

Campy jumped out of the cab and turned to see what Mitch was gesturing at. “Damn you, Thor! I swear, Mitch, he was standing on the porch when I left. He must’ve chased after the truck and jumped in.” She approached the plane and tossed her hair out of her eyes. “Relax, hon, everything’s cool at your place. She’s reading poetry on your porch. My advice? Grill her a thick bloody steak for supper and serve it to her with red wine and hot kisses.” She ducked her head under the cowling. “Hey, lover, I’m headin’ to town to do a load of laundry. Can you manage here without me?”

“I’ll do my best,” Wally grunted.

“Hang on,” Mitch said. “She told you she was staying for supper and she wanted a thick steak?”

“Don’t forget the red wine and hot kisses. She’s nice, Mitch. I like her. How ’bout you, Wally—what’s your preference tonight?”

“Beer and burgers,” came the gruff reply.

“I’m on it, sweetie. See you soon.”

“Wait a sec,” Mitch said. “Did you find out why she’s here?”

Campy took one last fierce drag on her cigarette, tossed it down and ground it out. “She’s here to see you, you imbecile. She’s been missing you. How long’s it been?”

“Almost five years without so much as a phone call or a letter. That’s why her surprise appearance is so strange.”

“Maybe not as strange as you think.” Campy gave him a long, calculating stare. “Make sure that red wine comes in a bottle with a cork.”

Wally peered out from under the cowling as she walked toward her rusted-out Subaru. “What’d I tell you,” he said. “Girl talk. They love that stuff. Better pick up that steak at Yudy’s. They have the best beef and he’ll cut it nice and thick for you.” He waited a few moments, then scowled. “Well, what the hell you stallin’ for? Haven’t you kept her waiting long enough?”

“I don’t believe that’s why she’s here. I think there’s something else going on.”

“So what if there is? You gonna pass up the chance to get cozy with her? Go fix her that steak like Campy said.”

“I spent all my cash on the fuel filter.”

“Ah, shit.” Wally dug in his wallet, peeled out two twenty-dollar bills and handed them to Mitch. “That’s the last of mine. Make it count. Women are scarce in Alaska and hot ones like that are even scarcer.”

YUDY’S GENERAL STORE carried everything from self-tapping sheet metal screws to wedding gowns, and had the best meat counter in the state. It also had a fairly good wine selection and a huge block of select sharp cheddar, the kind that crumbled when it was cut, and with what Mitch had left over he was able to buy half a pound along with some fancy crackers. Forty bucks didn’t stretch very far at Yudy’s, but the groceries were worth it and tonight he wasn’t about to serve up boxed macaroni and cheese with a side of canned beans and a bottle of beer, the mainstays of his usual diet. No, tonight called for a special meal, a properly seductive prelude for what was sure to come after…otherwise she wouldn’t have told Campy she was staying for supper and that she’d been missing him.

He was still kind of puzzled about the real reason she was here, but Wally was right. He’d be a fool to pass up this opportunity, and the prospect of spending another night with the sexiest pilot in the Navy was enough to send his heart rate right off the scale. It didn’t matter anymore that she hadn’t read his letter. The hell with it. Seize the moment and run with it.

By the time he got back to the cabin, he’d figured out just how the night should proceed. He’d light the grill first, because it took awhile for the charcoal to get just right, then he’d open the wine and get the cheese-and-cracker thing going while the meat marinaded and he fixed the vegetables. Yudy had prepped him on that. “You’ll wanna grill your veggies. Ladies like that kind of stuff. Cut ’em however you like. Me, I like my peppers in quarters, some like ’em in halves. Onions the same way. Eggplant, mushrooms, potatoes, tomatoes, whatever trips your trigger. Coat ’em with olive oil and a pinch of herbs and grill ’em.”

Well, scratch the eggplant and mushrooms, he hated the things, but he bought a few nice fat tomatoes and brightly colored bell peppers to supplement the vegetables he knew he already had, and he could make a salad, too, and then…?

Then they’d eat. And whatever happened after that was up to the gods and the mountain, because the mountain played a big role in his life here. He might have to fly out at the drop of a hat to pick up climbers who were calling it quits or were sick or injured. Those calls happened frequently this time of year and they certainly could use the business. But barring the climbers, who knows where the night might end? Maybe she wouldn’t want to go back to the Moosewood. Maybe she’d opt to stay.

Maybe? Of course she would. That’s why she was here, wasn’t it? She’d spend two weeks’ worth of fabulous nights with him before flying away again, back to her Navy career. What could be better than a short-term relationship with a gorgeous, sexy woman, no strings attached?

As he parked the truck, Thor jumped out of the back and Mitch heard her greeting the useless beast. He grabbed the bags of groceries and climbed the porch steps after the dog. Kate was sitting in the late afternoon sunshine, book of poetry lying open in her lap, and she smiled when she saw him. Right then and there he forgot all about how great a two-week-long, no-strings-attached affair would be because she looked like she belonged, and she looked beautiful.

“Hey,” he said, caught off balance by his own reaction.

“Hey, yourself. How’d it go at the airfield?”

“Great. Got the plane fixed. What about you?”

“I didn’t do a thing. I sat on this porch and read poetry and then I had a nap.”

“That’s what a vacation’s all about. You hungry?”

“Getting there.” She folded the book shut and stood. “What can I do to help?”

“You can supervise.”

She followed him into the kitchen and leaned over the counter while he unpacked the bags of groceries. “It’s so peaceful here. I can see why you love it.”

He uncorked the bottle of wine, rummaged in the cupboard for the two wineglasses left behind by the lonesome musher and poured. “Hope you like red. It goes well with meat, or so I’m told. I’m mostly a beer drinker myself, and beer goes with everything.” He handed her the glass and she smiled at him again. His heart did something that made him lose his breath and remember the night they’d had together, the night he’d spent years trying to forget.

“Thanks.” She took a sip and then watched while he organized the meal, or tried to. It was hard to do anything while she stood there. “Your friend Campy stopped by in your truck to deliver the dog, but Thor chased her down the road when she left. I don’t think she realized he was following her.”

“No, she didn’t.” He unwrapped the thick tenderloin, laid it on a platter and poured the marinade Yudy had recommended over it. “Thor jumped aboard, probably in that rough section a quarter mile from here, and rode to the airstrip in the back of the truck. But it was quiet there today, not much traffic. He didn’t get in any trouble or cause any crashes.”

“Has he caused crashes before?”

“Yup. Two.” Mitch piled all the vegetables into a colander and pumped water over them in the sink. That old-fashioned hand pump sure beat carrying water from the creek.

“What happened?”

“Both pilots tried to avoid him and went off the airstrip. One hit a bunch of willows, not much damage, just a few scratches, but the other bent a prop and we had to replace it. Wally swore he’d shoot the dog if he ever showed up at the airstrip again, but that was before Campy had the run-in with that brown bear and Thor saved her ass. Big vet bill, he was all torn up, but Campy told Wally that dog belonged here and if he shot the dog, she’d shoot him.”

“This sounds like a happening place,” Kate remarked with a smile.

“You betcha. Never a dull moment out here in the bush.” He took a knife out of the block, laid the cutting board on the counter and began slicing up the vegetables. “You like yellow and green bell peppers, scallions, potatoes, tomatoes and carrots?”

“I love any and all vegetables. Shouldn’t you start the grill?”

“Oh, yeah, forgot about that part. Here, you slice while I get that thing fired up.”

“Mitch?” He glanced over his shoulder and the way she was looking at him made his heart do that weird somersault thing again and he could hardly catch his breath. Damn, was he having some kind of coronary? “Thanks for asking me to supper,” she said. “And I really am sorry I never read your letter.”

KATE WAS SORRY in so very many ways that her feelings of remorse nearly overwhelmed her. As she watched Mitch through the cabin door while he got the grill started, then watched him laying cheese and crackers onto a chipped china plate with little roses along its border, she knew that she’d made a terrible mistake in not reading that letter he’d sent. She’d made a terrible mistake in not telling him about Hayden the moment she’d found out herself. How was she going to right these wrongs without making them worse? What would be his reaction when he found out that he’d had a son for the past four years? How could she possibly bring the subject up in a calm and logical way?

Right after Campy had left that afternoon, she’d called the Moosewood on Mitch’s satellite phone. “I’m out at Mitch’s place and he’s fixing a plane so I’m not sure when I’ll be back,” she told Rosa. “How’s Hayden?”

“Oh, he’s fine, señora. The owner of this nice place took us snipe hunting today.”

“Snipe hunting? What’s a snipe?”

“Some kind of bird they shoot and eat here, but it was a joke, I think. The man, he had us carry empty coffee cans and bang on them with spoons. He said the birds would fly into the cans. Of course, they didn’t, but Hayden loved it.”

“Did you have lunch?”

“Sì, a very good lunch and Hayden is napping. He has been outside all morning. This is good for him. How about you, señora? How does it go for you?”

“So far, so good. If I don’t get back until late, don’t worry. I haven’t told him about Hayden yet, but I’m going to. I just have to pick the right time.”

“I understand, señora. Good luck.”

It seemed that Rosa was saying that more and more often. Was it luck Kate needed, or nerve? She had only a few days to tell Mitch he had a son and the sooner she broached the subject, the better. What if he flipped out at the idea? What if he met Hayden and didn’t like him? But how could anyone not like Hayden? Besides, when Mitch saw him for the first time, he was sure to recognize himself in that little boy’s grin, the mischievous flash of his eyes, the arrogant know-it-all attitude that yes, even a three-year-old can possess. He was sure to take one look at Hayden and know without her saying anything that he was looking at his own son.

She glanced up from slicing the vegetables as Mitch came back into the kitchen from checking on the grill. “This is such a great place for kids. I’m surprised you aren’t married by now, with a whole bunch of them stampeding around.”

He lifted his wineglass for a taste. “This cabin isn’t big enough for a whole bunch. Besides, a wife and kids have never been a high priority for me. I tried that once and it didn’t work. Marriage, that is. Fortunately, there were no kids.”

“You don’t like kids?” Kate asked with a twinge of unease.

“I think they deserve better than two parents trapped in a bad marriage. Besides, if anyone else moved in here on a permanent basis, I’d have to build an addition.” He regarded her steadily for a moment, long enough for her to feel a warmth flowing through her that had nothing to do with a fever. “I suppose I could do that,” he added. “I guess I’d just need the right motivation.”

Kate dropped her eyes to scoop the vegetables into the bowl he’d provided. She drizzled them with olive oil and tossed them together.

“Motivation,” he continued. “That’s the key. A man has to be motivated in order to accomplish great things, whereas a woman self-motivates naturally. She knows what she has to do and just goes ahead and does it.”

“Oh? And what does a woman know she has to do, naturally?” Kate felt herself instantly bristling at his words, the same way she’d bristled her way through ten years of Navy life.

“She knows she has to nurture and comfort and create. A woman is the heart of any home, and a man needs a woman to motivate him to build that home.

“That’s a crock, McCray. I didn’t join the service to nurture, comfort and create, and I don’t feel obliged to motivate any man to do anything.”

“No, of course not, I’m not saying you did or do or should…. I guess I’m just trying to say that the major difference between a man and a woman… That is to say, one of the major differences is…” He paused and gave her a cautious look. “I’d better go check the fire again.”

Kate held up the bowl of vegetables. “Grilling basket?”

“Look under the counter. You might find something useful, but I’ve never grilled vegetables before. I usually just wrap them in foil and lay them in the coals.”

“Nurture, comfort and create?” She couldn’t resist another jab at his chauvinism.

“I take it all back, every last word, and forget I ever mentioned motivation.”

“I suppose you’re the type who prefers their women pregnant, barefoot and in the kitchen?”

He escaped out the door and was gone long enough for her to conclude there was nothing like a grilling basket in the kitchen. She did find the aluminum foil, however, and made do with that, carrying both the foil-wrapped vegetables and her glass of wine out onto the porch. Mitch was standing over the grill with a long-handled fork, poking occasionally at the coals. “No grilling basket, I see,” he said.

“This’ll work if you like soggy vegetables.”

“Soggy vegetables are my favorite.” He took them from her and laid the packet on the edge of the grill.

Kate leaned against the porch railing with a grudging smile. “So tell me what happened after you got out of the air force.”

He narrowed his eyes, thinking back. “That’d be about three years ago. I took a job flying for a commercial carrier. Turned out to be boring as hell—passenger jet service between Anchorage and Seattle. Like driving a bus on the same route every day. I lasted only a year at that. I might have held out longer, but Wally looked me up and convinced me it was time to make the switch.” He nudged the foil packet closer to the coals and it started to hiss. “After the Mad Dog burned, he held on to the insurance money, but rather than rebuild it he decided to start up an air charter service near Denali to ferry mountain climbers, hunters and sightseers around. At first I turned him down because flying for the airlines gave me a steady paycheck, but the second time he asked I jumped at the chance and here I am, borderline broke.”

“But happy?”

“Oh, hell, yes. My long-term plan is to buy Wally out when he gets ready to retire and change the name of the charter to Arctic Air, but that’ll only happen if we can keep the business alive, and that’ll only happen if he goes along with buying this plane I have my eye on. It’s a Pilatus/Fairchild Porter. Hot plane. Expensive.” He turned to her. “So what was in all the letters you never sent me over the past four years?”

“There’s not much to tell that wasn’t in that article,” Kate responded with an offhand shrug. “I was offered permanent shore duty when my son was born, I got promoted, did a lot of recruiting PR with the colleges, then got lucky and landed an instructor pilot position at the Navy Fighter Weapons School.”

“Lady, in case you didn’t know it, that wasn’t luck. Only the best of the best end up there. The flying must’ve been great.”

Kate took a small sip of wine, surprised that the idea of never flying like that again was still so painful to her after everything else she’d been through. “It was,” she admitted. “I got to play bad guy in the air with some of the hottest young pilots in the fleet, but even better than that, I changed a lot of old-fashioned attitudes toward women in the military every time I worked with a new class.”

“That had to have been the hardest lesson for them to learn.”

“That women can do more than nurture, comfort and create?”

He raised both his hands in a mute gesture of surrender. “I’ll get the steak. The coals are just about ready and it doesn’t take long for the veggies to cook.” He disappeared inside and reappeared carrying the platter with the marinating steak, Thor padding at his heels, his yellow gaze never wavering from the prize. “How do you like yours cooked?”

“Medium rare, but it looks like Thor would take his just the way it is.”

“The only way he’ll taste this steak is in his dreams.” The meat went onto the grill with a loud hiss and savory plume of smoke. “This’ll attract every bear in Alaska, but don’t worry. Thor won’t let ’em within a mile of the porch.”

Kate glanced around, reasonably sure he was kidding, though she wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised to see a grizzly hulking through the thick willows along the riverbank. She was glad Thor was with them, standing guard.

“Must’ve been tough for you, raising a kid and flying at the top of the curve,” Mitch said, turning the packet of vegetables.

“It would’ve been, if I hadn’t found Rosa,” Kate admitted. “She was taking care of my neighbor’s three kids, and when he got his transfer orders, Rosa wouldn’t go with them. She didn’t want to leave California. I’d just taken two months of maternity leave and wanted to get back in the swing of things, so the timing was great for both of us. I lucked out and so did Hayden. She’s been wonderful with him.”

Mitch poked at the steak then reached for his wineglass. He took a swallow and then lowered it, trapping her with those eyes that even after more than four years still had the power to easily seduce her. She wanted to look away but couldn’t.

“Tell me why you never read my letter,” he said.

“I’d rather not talk about that right now.”

“I’m thinking whatever you were so mad about has to have something to do with that night at the saloon, and that’s also why you snuck off on me that way. No note. No nothing. You jumped in your plane and flew back to California without so much as a goodbye. So tell me what I did that was so awful.”

She shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

Kate felt her heart rate instantly double as the heat of embarrassment flushed through her. How could she explain it to him when she didn’t fully understand it herself? “It wasn’t you. I was mad at myself for going to a bar with someone I didn’t even know, and then…” Her voice faltered and she fell silent.

His gaze never wavered. “As I recall, we were properly introduced beforehand.”

“I was mad at myself for going…and at you for fixing those drinks.”

“As I recall, you polished off the first one without complaint and then asked me to mix you another.”

Kate frowned. “I did no such thing.”

“Whoa.” He set his wineglass back down, his expression wary. “Back up a step. You asked me to fix you another drink, and I did. I wasn’t trying to get you drunk so I could take advantage of you. I’ve never done that with a woman.”

“So you say.”

“Is that what this is all about? You were mad at me because I mixed you two drinks and you were mad at yourself because all of a sudden your sex drive kicked into high gear after years of being repressed by life on board an aircraft carrier? That’s why you never read my letter? Is that what you came back here to tell me?”

“Not exactly,” Kate said, but he was too worked up to listen.

“You had me half undressed before you even finished that second drink,” he said. “Remember now?”

Kate’s cheeks burned. “That’s because of the large amounts of alcohol you obviously put in my glass.”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t the alcohol that caused you to let down your hair. It was the adrenaline pumping through your system after that flight from Adak. It was the blizzard and the wind and the snow and the fire in the woodstove. It was all those things combined, but most of all, it was you and me, Kate. You and me. Call it chemistry, call it whatever you want, but you can’t deny it. We were great together.” He took a step closer and startled her by reaching out a hand to brush the hair back from the side of her face. “I can feel that chemistry even now. Can’t you?”

She closed her fingers around his wrist to still his hand, terrified that he’d discover she was wearing a wig. “Mitch, I didn’t come here to explain why I never read your letter. I came because I have something important to talk to you about.”

Rebuffed, he stepped back when she released his hand and gave her a curt nod. “So, talk.”

Kate was riveted by the intensity of his gaze. She knew it was now or never, and she felt a pressure building up within herself that made it hard to breathe. Her heart beat a painful cadence as she struggled to find the right words. So many unknowns loomed ahead of her. She could only hope this one turned out well, both for Hayden’s sake, and for hers.

“You’d better turn the steak first,” she said, taking hold of her glass of wine and damning herself for her cowardice. “This could take awhile.”