told him he could.”
“Ralph,” Christian repeated bitterly. Well, he’d have something to say about that. The man was not only his employee but a personal friend. Or used to be.
Christian’s mood didn’t improve during his meal. He watched as Mariah fluttered from one table to another, growing more harried with every minute. It gave him no pleasure to realize he hadn’t underestimated her skills. Mariah made mistake after mistake, but what astonished him was that not a single customer complained. Half the time the men didn’t even bother to correct her.
If she gave someone the wrong order she never knew it; people ate what they were served or traded with someone else.
Once he’d finished dishing up the meals, Ben positioned himself in front of the cash register and gleefully collected money. He grinned from ear to ear each time the register rang.
The only person in the whole restaurant who didn’t seem happy was Christian. He’d planned to wait it out, convince Ralph to let him walk Mariah home, but after an hour he couldn’t sit idle anymore.
His mood soured as the men openly flirted with her. It infuriated him when they told her how pretty she looked and how her presence brightened the whole place. It was all rubbish, and yet Mariah ate it up as quickly as they downed her apple pie.
He paid his tab and left wearing a scowl.
When he got home, his mood still hadn’t improved. He turned on the television for a while. Thanks to the satellite dish, he had a large number of choices. But he surfed from channel to channel, unable to find a program that held his interest.
Disgusted with himself, he turned off the set and reached for the novel he’d started the week before. He read ten pages and couldn’t remember a single word. Slamming the book closed, he began to pace. Soon he was studying the clock.
Ben closed shop around eight. He figured with cleanup and all, it would take an hour or so before Ralph escorted Mariah to her cabin. His jaw tightened at the thought, but Christian knew he had no claim on her. Nor did he want one, he tried to convince himself.
It was just that he felt responsible for Mariah. Yeah, responsible, the way a man might feel toward his little sister. She needed a guiding hand, someone to advise her and caution her.
He’d definitely cleared that up in his own mind. He felt immeasurably better.
Although he’d let her know he wanted to talk to her, he wasn’t sure what he was going to say. He was walking a fine line here, and he knew it. If he pressured her, she’d resist.
What he hoped would happen was that she’d openly admit she missed Midnight Sons. At that point, Christian would be free to suggest she return. But he could see this wasn’t likely without some concessions on his part. If only he could figure out exactly what they should be!
Christian bided his time, counted off the minutes, then walked out of the house. He stood on his front porch and stared across the street at his brother’s place.
Scott and Eagle Catcher were playing in the yard. The boy was tossing a stick, and with boundless energy the husky was retrieving it. Susan was playing dolls with Chrissie Harris on the porch steps.
The reflection of the television screen showed in the window, and Christian assumed Sawyer and Abbey were cuddled up in front of it watching the news.
A year. In an amazingly short time his brother had become completely domesticated. Christian was happy for him, but he wanted none of this for himself. His life was just the way he liked it. One thing was certain: he didn’t want a woman trying to change him, messing with his individuality. He’d leave this marriage-and-family stuff to his two older brothers.
He sighed as he walked down the steps and buried his hands in his pockets. He sincerely hoped Charles and Sawyer appreciated what he was about to do. If he was successful, they’d have their secretary back. If not, well, he’d deal with that after he’d talked to Mariah.
“Where you going, Uncle Christian?” Scott asked, running to catch up with him. Eagle Catcher was like a shadow at his side.
“For a walk.” He hoped the brevity of his response would give Scott the hint.
“Someone’s playing cowboys and Indians,” Scott said conversationally.
“Really?”
“Yup, they’re sending signals.” Scott stopped, hands on his hips. “They’re not doing it right, though. Look.” He pointed toward the cabins where Mariah lived. “See all that smoke?”
“Smoke?”
Christian whirled around, and sure enough, a trail of dark smoke spiraled upward. His heart kicked into gear. “Those aren’t smoke signals,” he shouted. “That’s a fire!”
Fire. Mariah’s heart hammered against her rib cage as she fought her overwhelming panic.
At first she tried to battle down the flames, but her puny efforts only seemed to make matters worse. The blaze came out from the pipes that led from her stove and licked ravenously at the old wood.
Soon the room was engulfed in smoke. Mariah choked and coughed, struggling to breathe. Grabbing what clothes she could, she staggered outside.
Air. Beautiful clean air filled her lungs. She sucked in a deep breath and immediately had a coughing fit. With no time to spare, she dragged in another lungful, then hurried back into the burning cabin for her purse.
Blinded by the smoke, she fumbled about helplessly, seeking her important papers, plus the most precious item she owned, the little jade bear. She could not lose that to the fire. All at once her mind wouldn’t function properly. Where, oh where, had she left her purse? And the bear—wasn’t it on her nightstand?
“Mariah!”
Someone yelled her name, but it sounded as if it had come from a great distance. She felt herself weakening, needing desperately to breathe. The smoke dulled her senses, but she refused to give up, refused to leave until she’d found the jade bear and her purse.
“Mariah!” Whoever sought her was much closer now. Her name came to her, sounding frantic and fearful.
“Here.” How pitifully weak she felt. Not until she saw a pair of men’s shoes did she realize she was on the floor.
Strong arms scooped her up and carried her out the door.
Air again. Beautiful, clean air.
She breathed in deeply, coughed again and staggered back toward the house.
“Mariah, are you crazy?” Christian stopped her by circling his arms about her waist. “You can’t go back.”
“But—”
“Nothing in there is worth dying for, damn it!”
He didn’t understand what she was after, so she fought him, using every ounce of strength she possessed. She tugged and pulled but made no headway against his superior strength.
“Mariah,” he said, turning her around. “Stop!” His fingers dug unmercifully into her shoulders. The fire hissed and spit, the heat so fierce it was suffocating.
“My purse, the bear...”
“Bear? What bear?”
In the distance Mariah heard the fire siren, piercing the evening with its urgency, screaming tragedy to the entire town.
“My purse and your gift—I need them.” She’d lost everything, but her mind focused on the two things she valued most. She was thinking less and less clearly. So little made sense.
“You mean to tell me you risked your fool neck over your purse?” Christian shouted.
She jerked her