Matt not so long ago. If you want advice, it doesn’t come free. Not anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you come in here to eat or to talk?” Ben asked curtly.
Christian had noticed a difference in Ben’s temperament ever since he’d started his frequent-eater program. Apparently he’d decided that from now on, nothing was free. Not even speech. Christian was almost surprised Ben wasn’t charging him for sitting on the stool.
“How about some coffee?” Christian muttered.
Ben’s mouth formed a slow grin. “Coming up.”
Christian righted the mug and Ben promptly filled it. Staring at it reminded him that Mariah had made coffee for him nearly every morning for a year. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d told her he liked his coffee black. Some days she added sugar, some days cream, some days both. But he could count on one hand the days she’d gotten it right.
“So what’s bugging you?” Ben asked.
Christian shook his head. Now that he was here, he didn’t feel inclined to share his woes. More than likely, Ben would side with Mariah the way his brothers had.
“If you’ve got a problem, spit it out,” Ben said.
“You going to charge me?” Christian asked jokingly.
“Nah, I’m just trying to sell a little coffee.”
Ben probably sold more coffee than some of those all-night diners in Anchorage, but Christian didn’t say so.
“If you’ve got something on your mind,” Ben pressed, “best thing to do is get it out.”
“It’s nothing.”
Ben’s laugh was skeptical. “My guess is it involves Mariah.”
Christian glared at the older man. “What makes you say that?”
The cook lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “Whenever I see you frown, it usually has to do with her. After all, you’ve been complaining about Mariah for over a year.”
“Not that it does me any good,” Christian said with ill grace. “According to everyone else, the woman walks on water. Is there something wrong with me?” he asked, not really expecting an answer.
“She’s a sweetheart, Chris.”
“Not to me, she isn’t.” She might be as wonderful as everyone said, but Christian doubted it. “We can’t seem to get along,” he mumbled.
“Have you ever stopped to consider why?”
“I have, as a matter of fact,” Christian said. “I read an article in one of those airline magazines—oh, it must’ve been three or four years ago. It was about a man who walked from one end of the continental United States to the other. Took him months. People from all over asked him what he’d found the hardest.”
Ben frowned. “Are we still talking about Mariah?”
“Yes,” Christian insisted. “The writer who was doing the interview suggested the hardest part must’ve been the heat of the desert or the cold of the mountains.”
“Was it?” Ben asked, obviously curious now. He folded his arms and waited for Christian to respond.
“Nope.”
“You sure we’re still talking about Mariah?”
Christian ignored the question. “After deep thought, the man gave his answer. The most difficult thing about the long walk had been the sand in his shoes.”
“The sand in his shoes?”
“Yup. And that’s what’s wrong between Mariah and me.”
Ben’s face broke into a network of lines as he frowned again, and Christian could tell he assumed Mariah had been pouring sand in his shoes. “It’s the little things about her that drive me nuts,” he explained. “The fact that she ruins my coffee every morning. The way she loses things and just...irritates me.” Christian paused, then said grudgingly, “I’m sure she’s a perfectly capable secretary—or would be for someone else. But she hasn’t worked out for me.”
“Sawyer doesn’t seem to have a problem with her.” Christian had heard this argument from Ben before; he wasn’t surprised to be hearing it now.
The door of the café opened just then, and he glanced over his shoulder and saw Duke. The other man’s eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Christian.
“What’s this all about?” Duke demanded, waving the note Christian had slipped into his mailbox.
“I’ll be flying Mariah into Fairbanks on Saturday,” Christian told him calmly. He didn’t expect the other man to argue, since he was the boss.
“I offered to do it,” Duke said.
“I know, but there are other, uh, more important things I need you for.”
“You’re sending me out on a wild-goose chase and you know it. I could make the flight into Barrow any time next week, and all of a sudden you decide I have to do it Saturday.”
Christian wasn’t proud of his little subterfuge, but his justification was that he didn’t want Duke and Mariah furthering their romance on company time. What they did on their own time was entirely up to them, he told himself righteously. But when it came to Midnight Sons...that was another matter.
“You seem to think I’m interested in her,” Duke said angrily.
Christian’s hands tightened around the coffee mug. He didn’t want to get into this.
“Are you?” Ben wanted to know, his eyes eager.
“No,” Duke growled. “I’ve got a girlfriend in Fairbanks I was planning to see.”
“You’ve got a girlfriend in Fairbanks?” Ben repeated. “Since when?”
“Since now.”
Christian wasn’t sure he should believe him. “What about the other day when I saw you and Mariah kissing?”
Ben’s eyes widened. “You saw Duke and Mariah kissing?”
“Sure did.” Whenever Christian thought about walking into the office and finding them in each other’s arms, he felt a fresh wave of fury. “Right in the middle of the day, too.”
Duke knotted his hands into fists. “I wasn’t kissing Mariah.”
Christian wasn’t going to sit there and let one of his pilots lie to him. “I saw you with my own eyes!”
Duke shifted his weight from one booted foot to the other. “Since it’s so important to you, I’ll say it again. I wasn’t kissing Mariah.”
Christian glared at the man. This was a bold-faced lie; he knew what he’d seen.
Duke lowered his gaze and muttered, “She was kissing me.”
August 1996
On Saturday Mariah was at the airfield well before the allotted time of departure, eager to see Tracy again and make their plans for the week. They’d already decided to take a glacier tour and visit some of the other sights in and around Anchorage.
Fierce, dark clouds puckered the sky, filling the morning with shadows and gloom. Not a promising start to her vacation.
“You ready?” Christian marched past her toward the two-seater Luscombe. It was the smallest plane in the Midnight Sons fleet and used the least often.
Mariah picked up her suitcase and hurried after him. “I want you to know how much I appreciate