Alaska Home. Debbie Macomber

      “Surprised?”

      “You’ve done a terrific job with this place.” Before she could ask what he meant, he elaborated. “Decorating the old cabin. It’s really nice. Downright homey.”

      “This is my home, Christian.” She’d worked hard to make her space both livable and pleasing to the eye. That meant more than adding lace curtains to the windows. One of the first things she’d done was get rid of the chunky, oddly shaped furniture that came with the cabin. She’d replaced it, a piece at a time, with furniture that suited her needs—not the easiest task when you lived in the Arctic. She’d bought some chairs from Matt, had her bed shipped up from home, ordered fabric and a small table and a replica nineteenth-century oil lamp from catalogs. She had an eye for color and detail and was genuinely pleased with what she’d managed to achieve in her cramped quarters.

      Christian set the suitcase down in the center of the room, on the green-and-rose braided rug she’d purchased on a trip to Fairbanks six months ago. She’d also splurged on a quilt that picked up the same colors.

      “Thank you again,” she said, smiling. “I had a lovely evening. I appreciate your flying in for me, the dinner and...everything else.”

      He shrugged, looking uncomfortable with her gratitude. “I’ll see you Monday morning,” he said a bit gruffly.

      “Monday,” she echoed.

      As Christian walked past her, he paused and casually kissed her on the lips. He’d gone another couple of steps before he appeared to realize what he’d done. He came to a sudden halt, shook his head as if to clear it, then continued on to the truck.

      * * *

      Monday morning, when Mariah entered the office, she was greeted with chaos. Two phone lines rang simultaneously and the fax had started transmitting data. Christian was frantically searching through the filing cabinet, demanding to know where she’d hidden the Freemont account.

      Concealing a smile, she located the file, answered the phone and dealt with the fax. It did her heart good to know she’d been missed.

      “Welcome back,” Sawyer told her two hours later. It was the first quiet moment that morning.

      “Was it this hectic all week?” Mariah had barely had a chance to take off her sweater. The phone hadn’t stopped ringing. Pilots had been coming and going every few minutes, and they all seemed to need something—a scheduling change, a form, some information. It hadn’t helped that Christian was having a crisis of his own over the Freemont account. He spent much of the morning ranting and raving, unable to locate various crucial documents. Every time, it was Mariah who quietly and efficiently silenced him by supplying whatever he needed.

      “We pretty much handled everything ourselves,” Sawyer answered, “but we’re sure glad you’re back.”

      “You can say that again,” Christian seconded, holding his hand over the mouthpiece. Sawyer glanced at his brother and then at Mariah. He considered them shrewdly.

      Mariah sat down and turned on her computer. The hard drive had begun its familiar hum when Christian ended his telephone conversation and approached her desk.

      “I’m going to need you to make travel arrangements for me,” he told her.

      “Of course.” Christian would be traveling? Somewhat surprised, she reached for a pencil and pad.

      “I’ll be visiting my mother in British Columbia and then stopping in Seattle.”

      “That won’t be any problem. How long will you be away?” Picking up the small calendar on her desk, she waited for him to give her the dates.

      “Say, ten days from Friday—” he pointed to the end of that week “—until Sunday of the following week. And I’d like reservations at our usual hotel in Seattle. Oh, and Scott and Susan will be traveling with me as far as Vancouver. I’ll go on to Seattle Monday or Tuesday, then back to Vancouver and home.”

      “I’ll see to everything this afternoon,” Mariah promised.

      “While you’re at it, could you get me the names of a couple of five-star Seattle restaurants?” Christian asked.

      “Restaurants.” She made a notation on her pad. “I know of a number in the downtown area that cater to businessmen.” And Tracy would be happy to give her suggestions, too.

      “I wasn’t thinking of a business dinner,” Christian said matter-of-factly. “I’m going to be seeing a...friend while I’m in town. A good friend.”

      A few minutes later, Mariah was on the phone with the airline when she happened to overhear the two brothers talking.

      “A friend?” Sawyer asked.

      “Yeah, Allison Reynolds.” Even from across the room, she saw Christian’s eyes brighten with what could only be described as excitement. “You might remember her,” he added.

      Mariah felt as if she’d been slapped. No one needed to tell her who Allison Reynolds was—the secretary Mariah had replaced.

      “You’re going to be seeing Allison?” Sawyer asked, lowering his voice, obviously afraid Mariah would hear. Well, it was too late; she’d already heard.

      “Yeah,” Christian murmured, preoccupied with a fax. “I talked to her the other night and promised to call her back as soon as I knew when I’d be arriving. I’m hoping I’ll convince her to give Hard Luck a second chance.”

      Sawyer held on to his pencil with both hands and darted a look toward Mariah. “Do you think that’s wise?”

      “Why isn’t it?” Christian asked, his voice equally low. He set aside the fax and confronted his brother openly. “She’s beautiful, witty, charming and we’d be fortunate to have her. Let’s talk about this later, all right?”

      Sawyer frowned.

      Mariah couldn’t believe her ears. Christian actually planned on luring her replacement to Hard Luck. Furthermore, he expected her to make the arrangements!

      * * *

      “Mom, should I pack my Barbie playhouse?” Susan called from her bedroom.

      Abbey took the towel from the dryer, folded it and set it on the washer. “No, sweetheart. You can only take one suitcase each. You won’t have room for all your Barbie things.”

      “You know my mother’s going to spoil those kids, don’t you?” Sawyer said, leaning against the laundry-room door.

      “I know. Scott and Susan will be impossible to live with by the time they return.”

      “But we’ll have an entire week to ourselves.” Sawyer waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “I sincerely hope you intend to spoil me next week.”

      Abbey kissed her husband and nuzzled her nose against his. “I’ll see what I can do.”

      Sawyer’s eyes gleamed. “Barbie and Ken will play while the kids are away.”

      “Sawyer!”

      Her husband chuckled and slid his arms around her waist. “It’s too bad Christian will be gone, too, because that means I won’t be able to get away much myself.”

      “We’ll manage,” Abbey assured him.

      “A second honeymoon,” Sawyer murmured, grinning provocatively. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this. I still haven’t recovered from the first one.”

      “You seem to have done pretty well for yourself!”

      “Mom, Dad, you’ll remember to feed Eagle Catcher, won’t you?” Scott asked, poking his head into the laundry room.

      Her son seemed genuinely concerned, as if he wasn’t sure he should trust them with his much-loved friend, even if it was only for ten days. And even if he’d once been Sawyer’s dog.