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