Page 32 of Summer Weddings

“Yeah. Apparently he flew her in without knowing her purpose for coming. He made the fatal mistake of thinking she might’ve been one of the women I hired. Santiago let him know in no uncertain terms who and what she was. By the time they landed, the two of them were at each other’s throats.”

That they’d been able to discuss anything during the flight was saying something, given how difficult it was to be heard above the roar of the engines.

“If I were this attorney,” Christian said thoughtfully, “I’d think twice before messing with Duke.”

Ben had to work hard to keep the smile off his face. When a feminist attorney tangled with the biggest chauvinist Ben had ever met, well…the fur was guaranteed to fly.

The door opened. Christian looked up and groaned, then covered his face with his hands again.

Ben turned around and saw that it was Mariah. He lumbered to his feet, reached for the coffeepot and returned to the counter.

“Mr. O’Halloran,” the secretary said as she timidly approached him.

“How many times,” Christian demanded, “have I asked you to call me by my first name? In case you haven’t noticed, there are three Mr. O’Hallorans in this town, and two of us happen to spend a lot of time together in the same office.”

“Christian,” she began a second time, her voice quavering slightly. “I want you to know I had nothing to do with Ms. Santiago’s arrival.”

“Yeah, right.”

Mariah clenched her hands at her sides. “I didn’t know anything about her,” she insisted, “and I certainly had nothing to do with hiring her.”

“Then who did?”

Ben watched as Mariah closed her eyes and swallowed hard. When she spoke again, her voice was a low whisper. “I suspect it was my dad. He must’ve talked to her about my being here.”

“And why, pray tell, would he do that?” Christian asked coldly.

Mariah went pale. “Would you mind very much if I sat down?”

The look Christian threw her said he would. After an awkward moment, he gestured curtly toward the seat across from him.

“You want some coffee?” Ben felt obliged to offer.

“No,” Christian answered for her. “She doesn’t want anything.”

“Do you have orange juice?” Mariah asked.

“He has orange juice,” Christian told her, “at five bucks a glass.”

“Fine.”

Another moment of strained silence passed while Ben delivered the four-ounce glass of juice.

“You had something you wanted to tell me?” Christian asked impatiently.

“Yes,” she said, her voice gaining strength. “I’m sure my family’s responsible for Ms. Santiago’s visit. You see… I didn’t exactly tell them I’d accepted your job offer. They didn’t know—”

“You mean you were hiding from your parents?”

“I wasn’t hiding, ” she argued. “Not exactly.” She brushed a long strand of hair away from her face, and Ben saw that her hands were shaking badly. “I wanted to prove something to them, and this seemed the only way I could do it.”

“What were you trying to prove?” Christian shouted. “How easy it is to destroy a man and his business?”

“No,” she replied, squaring her shoulders. “I wanted to demonstrate to my father that I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. That I can support myself, and furthermore, I’m old enough to make my own decisions without him continually interfering in my life.”

“So you didn’t tell him what you’d done.”

“No,” she admitted, chancing a quick look in Christian’s direction. “Not at first. It’s been a while since my family heard from me, so I wrote them a letter last week and told them about the job and how after a year’s time I’ll have the title to twenty acres and the cabin.”

“And?”

“Well, with Hard Luck being in the news and everything, Dad had already heard about Midnight Sons advertising for women. He…” She paused and bit her lower lip.

“He seems to think this isn’t the place for me, and the best way to get me home is to prove you’re running some kind of scam.

That’s why he hired Ms. Santiago. I… I think he may want to sue you.

” She closed her eyes again, as if she expected Christian to explode.

Instead, he stared sightlessly into space. “We’re dead meat,” he said tonelessly. “Sawyer and I can forget everything we’ve ever worked for because it’ll be gone.”

“I explained the situation as best I could to Ms. Santiago.”

“Oh, great. By now she’s probably decided I’ve kidnapped you and that I’m holding you for ransom.”

“That’s not true!”

“Think about it, Mariah. Tracy Santiago would give her eyeteeth to cut me off at the knees—and all because you wanted to prove something to your father!”

“I’ll take care of everything,” Mariah promised. Her huge eyes implored him. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll get everything straightened out. There won’t be a lawsuit unless I’m willing to file one, and I’m not.”

“ You’ll take care of it?” Christian repeated with a short bark of laughter. “ That’s supposed to reassure me? Ha!”

* * *

Lanni Caldwell glanced at her watch for the third time in a minute.

Charles was late. He was supposed to pick her up in front of the Anchorage News, where she was working as an intern.

She should wait outside for him, he’d said.

It had been ten days since they’d seen each other, and she’d never missed anyone so much.

They’d agreed to postpone their wedding until the first week of April.

At the time, that hadn’t sounded so terrible, but she’d since revised her opinion.

If these ten days were any indication of how miserable she was going to be without him, she’d never last the eight months.

Her one consolation was that his travel schedule often brought him to Valdez, which was only a short airplane trip from Anchorage.

Just when she was beginning to really worry, Lanni saw him. He was smiling broadly, a smile that spoke of his own joy at seeing her.

Unable to stand still, Lanni hurried toward him, thread ing her way through the late-afternoon shoppers crowding the sidewalk.

When she was only a few feet away, she started to run. “Charles! Oh, Charles!”

He caught her around the waist and lifted her off the ground. They were both talking at once, saying the same things. How lonely the past days had been. How eight months seemed impossible. How much they’d missed each other.

It felt so good to be in his arms again. She hadn’t intended to kiss him right there on the sidewalk with half of Anchorage looking on, but she couldn’t stop herself. Charles O’Halloran was solid and handsome and strong—and he was hers.

His mouth found Lanni’s and her objections, her doubts, her misery, all melted away. She hardly heard the traffic, hardly noticed the smiling passersby.

Slowly Charles lowered her to the ground. He dragged in a giant breath; so did she. “When it comes to you, Lanni,” he whispered, “I haven’t got a bit of self-control.”

They clasped hands and began walking. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“We have to go somewhere?” he teased.

Lanni leaned her head against his shoulder. “No, but dinner would be nice. I’m starved.”

“Me, too, but I’m even more starved for you.”

Lanni smiled softly. “I’m dying to hear what came of the lawyer’s visit to Hard Luck. What’s this about Mariah being the one who’s filing the lawsuit? I don’t know her well, but I can’t see her doing that.”

“I’ll explain everything later,” he promised, sliding his arm around her, keeping her close to his side.

“All I can say is that Christian deserves whatever he gets. He’s been so impatient with her.”

Charles’s eyes met Lanni’s, then crinkled in silent amusement. “Whose side are you on in this fiasco?”

“Yours,” she said promptly. “It’s just that I find it all rather…entertaining.”

“Is that a fact?” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Christian’s convinced we’re in a damned-if-we-do and damned-if-we-don’t situation.”

“Really?” Her eyes held his. This could well be more serious than it sounded. “Is Midnight Sons in legal trouble?”

Charles held open the door of her favorite Chinese restaurant. “I don’t know. Frankly, it’s not my problem. Sawyer and Christian are the ones who came up with this brilliant plan to bring women to Hard Luck. I’m sure that between them they’ll come up with a solution.”

They were promptly seated and the waiter took their order.

“Don’t look so worried,” Charles said, reaching across the table to take her hand.

“As far as I’m concerned, this is a tempest in a teacup.

Mariah’s parents are the ones who started this, so I suggested we let Mariah work this out with them.

Her father doesn’t want to ruin Midnight Sons—all he really cares about is making sure his daughter’s safe. ”

“I’d say Mariah can look after herself very well indeed. She’s bright and responsible and—”

“Christian might not agree with you, but I do.”

A smile stole across Lanni’s features. “You’re going to be a very good husband, Charles O’Halloran.”

For long moments they simply gazed at each other. To Lanni, there was no better man than Charles. Of all the women in the world, he’d chosen to marry her —but then, she was convinced their falling in love had been no accident.

“I talked to your mother,” she said, suddenly remembering the lengthy conversation she’d had with Ellen Greenleaf. Ellen had remarried a couple of years ago and was now living in British Columbia.

“And?”

“And she’s absolutely delighted that you came to your senses and proposed.”

“I proposed?” he repeated, his eyebrows raised. “Seems to me it was the other way around.”

“Does it really matter who asked whom?” she said in mock disgust. “The important thing is I love you and you love me.”

Charles grew serious. “I do love you.”

Lanni would never doubt him. Slowly he raised her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. The action was both sensual and endearing.

“Does your grandmother know about us?” Charles asked.

Lanni shook her head. “Her health has deteriorated in the last few weeks. Half the time, Grammy doesn’t even recognize Mom. Apparently she slips in and out of consciousness. The doctors…don’t expect her to live much longer.”

Charles frowned and his eyes were sad. “I’m sorry, Lanni.”

“I know you are.”

“I spent a lot of years hating Catherine Fletcher for what she did to my family, but I can’t anymore.

It’s because of her that I found the most precious gift of my life.

You. Remember what you said a few weeks ago about the two of us being destined for each other?

I believe it now, as strongly as I believe anything. ”

* * *

Bethany had purposely waited three days before visiting the Hard Luck Café. She’d needed the time to fortify herself for this first confrontation. The night of her arrival, Mitch had confirmed what she already knew: Ben Hamilton owned the café.

Her heart skipped, then thudded so hard it was almost painful. Her palms felt sweaty as she pulled open the door and stepped inside. If she reacted this way before she even met Ben, what would she be like afterward?

“Hello.”

Ben stood behind the counter, a white apron around his middle, a welcoming smile on his lips. Bethany felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her.

“You must be Bethany Ross.”

“Yes,” she said, struggling to make her voice audible. “You’re Ben Hamilton?”

“The one and only.” He sketched a little bow, then leaned back against the counter, studying her.

With her breath trapped in her lungs, Bethany made a show of glancing around the empty room. It was eleven-thirty, still early for lunch. The café featured a counter and a number of booths with red vinyl upholstery. The rest of the furnishings consisted of tables and mismatched chairs.

“Help yourself to a seat.”

“Thank you.” Bethany chose to sit at the counter. She picked up a plastic-coated menu and pretended to study it.

“The special of the day is a roast-beef sandwich,” Ben told her.

She looked up and nodded. “What about the soup?”

“Split pea.”

Ben was nothing like she’d expected. The years hadn’t been as generous to him as she’d hoped. His hair had thinned and his belly hung over the waistband of his apron. Lines creased his face.

If he hadn’t introduced himself, hadn’t said his name aloud, Bethany would never have guessed.

“Do you want any recommendations?” he asked.

“Please.”

“Go with the special.”

She closed the menu. “All right, I will.”

As he walked back to the kitchen, he asked, “How are things going for you at the school?”

“Fine,” she said, surprised she was able to carry on a normal conversation with him. “The kids I’ve met are great, and Margaret’s been a lot of help.” Today was Labor Day; tomorrow was her first day of teaching.

She wondered what Ben saw when he looked at her. Did he notice any resemblance? Did he see how much she looked like her mother, especially around the eyes? Or had he wiped the memory of her mother from his mind?

“Everyone in Hard Luck’s real pleased to have you.”

“I’m pleased to be here,” she responded politely. She was struck by how friendly he was, how genuinely interested he seemed. Was that why her mother had fallen in love with him all those years ago?

The door opened and Ben looked up. “Howdy, Mitch. Said hello to the new schoolteacher yet?”

“We met earlier.” Bethany thought she detected a note of reluctance in his voice, as if he regretted coming into the café while she was there.

Mitch claimed the stool at the opposite end of the counter.

“I don’t think she’s contagious,” Ben chided from the kitchen, then chuckled. “And I’m pretty sure she doesn’t bite.”

Mitch cast Bethany an apologetic smile. Uncomfortable, she glanced away.

Ben brought her meal, and she managed to meet his eyes. “I… I meant to tell you I wanted to take the sandwich with me,” she said, faltering over the words. “If that’s not a problem.”

“Not at all.” He whipped the plate off the counter. “What can I get for you, Mitch?” he asked.

“How about a cheeseburger?”

“You got it.” Ben returned to the kitchen, leaving Bethany and Mitch alone.

She looked at him. He looked at her. Neither seemed able to come up with anything to say. In other circumstances, Bethany would’ve found a hundred different subjects to discuss.

But not now. Not when she was so distracted by the battle being waged in her heart. She’d just walked up to her father and ordered lunch.

No, he wasn’t her father, she amended. Her father was Peter Ross, the man who’d loved her and raised her as his own. The man who’d sat at her bedside and read her to sleep. The man who’d escorted her to the father-daughter dance when she was a high school sophomore.

The only link Bethany shared with Ben Hamilton was genetic. He was the man who’d given her life, and nothing else. Not one damn thing.