“A son. His name is Hayden. It’s an old family name.”
“What does Hayden think about his mother being a Navy pilot?”
“Hayden’s relaxed about everything. He’s a pretty cool kid.”
“I guess pretty cool women just naturally have pretty cool kids.”
He thought that might get a smile but she just looked out the window, heaved a small sigh and said, “I was lucky.”
“Somebody else sure was, too.” The words bounced awkwardly around the cab and he cursed himself for uttering them, but it was true. Somebody was. Some Navy guy, probably. Dare he ask? Ah, what the hell. “What does Hayden think about his father?”
“I told him his father died in a plane crash.”
Tragic for them both, but that explained why she wasn’t married. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, hoping his words sounded more sincere than he felt. “So, how long do you have?”
“Pardon?”
Okay, maybe the silence was better than talking. She was glaring at him as if he’d just insulted her. “How long are you here for? A week? Two?”
She faced front again and said, “I don’t have that long. Two weeks, max.”
“Where are you staying?”
“The Moosewood Road House.”
“Nice place. They have a decent restaurant.”
“Yes.”
This conversation was going nowhere fast. He was no closer to finding out why she was here than he had been thirty miles ago, and she hadn’t yet bothered to explain why she’d never said goodbye to him after the night they’d shared. He was beginning to wish she hadn’t interrupted his Monday, except that, damn it all, she was just as provocative as she’d been the first time he’d set eyes on her. His hormones were already at attention as he envisioned a passionate night or two tangled up in the sheets with her. So what if she hadn’t said goodbye? Maybe this time he’d be the one who flew off without a word.
Fair was fair, after all. Two could play that kind of game.
KATE REALIZED by the time they reached the tiny town of Talkeetna that she was in way over her head. While Mitch was in the aviation building at the small airport picking up his part, she sat in the truck, wondering if her erratic heartbeat had anything to do with the fevers that came and went or with the man she’d just spent the last hour with. What should she do? He was totally in the dark as to her real reasons for being here. He seemed glad to see her but he didn’t know, nor could she figure out how to tell him, that she’d never read the letter he’d sent.
Court-martial? That didn’t sound good. He obviously didn’t make much money, and his prospects for the future didn’t appear much better. He wasn’t married and had no kids, just a dog named Thor and a boss named Wally who obviously owned the charter service.
How should she proceed?
He stepped out of the hangar door and she was struck again by his sheer masculinity. It didn’t matter that he was dressed in faded Levi’s and an equally faded flannel shirt. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t shaved that morning or that his hair needed to be trimmed. He was handsome in a rugged, athletic way that matched the land he’d chosen to make his home in. Maybe he’d never be rich, maybe he’d never drive a late-model truck or fly a plane that didn’t always need fixing, but she had the feeling that somehow he’d get by. He was the kind of guy that would walk away from a hard landing with that same macho swagger and arrogant grin. Nothing would ever beat him down.
He wrenched open the truck door, tossed an object wrapped in a clean rag onto the bench seat between them and hauled himself in behind the wheel. “So, what’s your preference? There’s a deli a little ways from here or a roadhouse that serves great burgers. Your choice.”
“I’m not really that hungry.”
He fired up the engine and eased the truck into gear. “Then let’s grab a sandwich at the deli. It’s not as fancy and it’s quicker.”
He was as nervous as she was, she realized as he drove to the deli; only, when she got nervous, she got quiet, whereas Mitch couldn’t seem to shut up. The deli was rustic and charming with big baskets of bright flowers that hung from the porch eaves. He talked about fishing while they waited for their order to be delivered to the little picnic table on the porch, and in between bites of his sandwich he told her about salmon runs and grizzly bears that prowled the riverbank by his cabin and one instance when he’d barricaded himself inside while a bear chewed his favorite fly rod to splinters. And then came a long pause in the conversation and she glanced up and realized those disarming eyes were studying her intently.
“What?” she said, shifting under his scrutiny.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Something wrong with your sandwich?”
“I told you I wasn’t hungry.”
“You said you wanted to talk, but this is a mighty one-sided conversation.”
She averted her eyes, heart thumping painfully. “I’m enjoying listening to you describe your life here.” She gave him a faint smile. “Your place sounds nice, except for the bears. Maybe you’d give me a tour while I’m here. I love log cabins.”
His eyes narrowed and he sat back in his chair. “Sure. Just say when.”
Kate had spent her childhood dreaming about what she was going to be when she grew up. Once she’d grown up, she’d spent every moment striving to make that dream come true, and every step of the way there had been men standing in her path, blocking her, trying to trip her up and hoping she’d fail and make a fool of herself.
Getting pregnant had been the worst setback of her career. Getting pregnant had validated all those chauvinistic remarks and those sexist attitudes. For four months she’d had to give up flying. Four whole months she’d been grounded because she’d done just what they’d expected her to do. She’d gone out and gotten herself pregnant, just like a woman.
This man had been a major player in tripping her up and almost causing her to fail, yet now she was sitting in this deli listening to him talk and his words were making her feel all warm and fuzzy inside and she caught herself thinking, Wow, for the past four years, I could have had a man in my life that I actually liked to talk to, listen to and, yes, make love with. There was no denying the magnetism that had made him so impossible to resist the first time they met. It was still there. She could still feel it. Just one touch and she’d succumb again, one touch and he’d destroy all her defenses and start another fire, one neither of them could put out. Would that be such a bad thing at this stage of her life?
What was the matter with her? She must be sicker than she thought to be having such crazy ideas. She didn’t need a man. She’d never needed one. She was happy being single. In fact, she preferred it. Nobody had to worry about Captain K. C. Jones. She could take care of herself. Always had and always would.
Always?
Ha! Funny how facing you own mortality cast a harsh light on everything and illuminated truths that had been so easily hidden beneath alternating layers of bravado and pride. Funny how it humbled…
“I have a confession to make,” she said. “I never read the letter you sent. I threw it off the edge of the flight deck, unopened, and I’m sorry.”
MITCH DIDN’T KNOW quite how to take this. All he knew was that it stung. He’d spent countless hours agonizing over each and every word, just to have her fling it off the edge of the flight deck, unopened? The letter he’d written to K. C. Jones four and a half years ago, give or take a few months, was the only one he’d ever penned to a woman. It encompassed weeks of laborious beginnings that went nowhere