on the first day of school, Mitch swore his daughter was up before dawn. By the time the alarm sounded and he struggled out of bed and into the kitchen, Chrissie was already dressed.

  She sat in the living room with her lunch pail tightly clutched in her hand. She was dressed in her new jeans and Precious Moments sweatshirt.

  “Morning, Daddy.”

  “Howdy, pumpkin.” He yawned loudly. “Aren’t you up a little early?” He padded barefoot into the kitchen, with Chrissie following him.

  “It’s the first day of school.” She announced this as if it was news to him.

  “I know.”

  “I’m Ms. Ross’s helper,” she said importantly.

  Mitch had stopped counting the number of times a day Chrissie mentioned Ms. Ross. He’d given up telling her he wasn’t interested in marrying the teacher. Chrissie didn’t want to believe it, and arguing with her only irritated him. Eventually, she’d see for herself that there’d never be a relationship between him and Bethany.

  He’d heard that Bethany had stirred up a lot of interest among the single men in town. Good. Great. Wonderful. In no time at all, she’d be involved with someone else, and his daughter would get the message.

  Mitch hated to disappoint her. But, he reasoned, disappointment was part of life, and he wouldn’t always be able to protect her. The sooner she accepted there’d only be the two of them, the better.

  “I packed my own lunch,” she told him, holding up her Barbie lunch pail.

  “I’m proud of you.”

  She delighted in showing him what she’d chosen for her lunch. Ham-and-cheese sandwich carefully wrapped in napkins, an apple, juice, an oatmeal cookie. Mitch was pleased to see that she’d done a good job of packing a well-balanced meal and told her so.

  He looked at his watch, gauging the time before they could leave. “What about breakfast?”

  Although Chrissie claimed she was too excited to eat, Mitch insisted she try. “How about a bowl of cereal?” he suggested, pulling out several boxes from the cupboard. He wasn’t much of a breakfast eater himself. Generally he didn’t have anything until ten or so. More often than not, he picked up a doughnut or something equally sweet when he stopped in at Ben’s for coffee.

  “I’ll try to eat something,” Chrissie agreed with a decided lack of enthusiasm. He let her pour her own cereal and milk. His daughter was an independent little creature, which was fine with Mitch. In fact, he took pride in it.

  By the time he’d finished dressing, she’d eaten her breakfast and washed and put away her bowl and spoon. She sat on the couch waiting for Mitch to escort her to school.

  “Are you sure you need me, now that you’re a second-grader?” Not that Mitch objected to walking his daughter to class. However, he had a sneaking suspicion that if her teacher had been anyone other than the lovely Ms. Ross, Chrissie would have insisted on walking without him.

  “I want you to take me,” she said with a smile bright enough to blind him. The kid knew exactly what she was doing. And being the good father he was, he had to go along with her. The way he figured it, he’d walk her to the school door and, if he was lucky, escape without seeing Bethany.

  His plan backfired. Chrissie had to show him her desk.

  “I’m over here,” she said, taking him by the hand and leading him to the front row. “Ms. Ross let me pick my own seat.” Wouldn’t you know, his daughter had chosen to sit directly in front of the teacher’s desk.

  He tried to make a fast getaway, but Bethany herself waylaid him.

  “Good morning, Mitch.”

  “Morning.” The tropical bird was back in full plumage. She wore a black skirt with a colorful floral top; it reminded him of the shirt Sawyer had brought back from Hawaii. Her hair was woven into a thick braid that fell halfway down her back.

  She did have beautiful hair, he’d say that much. It didn’t take a lot of effort to imagine undoing her braid and running his fingers through the glossy strands. He could see himself with his hands buried wrist-deep in her hair, drawing her mouth to his. Her lips would feel silky soft, and she’d taste like honey and passion and—

  “Are you picking me up after school?” Chrissie asked, interrupting his thoughts.

  Thank heaven she had. Apparently all Chrissie’s chatter about Bethany was having more of an effect on him than he’d realized. His heart pounded like an overworked piston, his pulse thumping so hard he could feel it throb in his neck.

  Bethany and Chrissie were both looking at him, awaiting his response. “Pick you up?” As a rule, Chrissie walked over to Louise Gold’s house after school.

  “Just for today,” Chrissie said, her big eyes gazing up at him hopefully.

  “All right,” he agreed grudgingly. “Just for today.”

  Chrissie’s face shone with her smile.

  He would’ve told Bethany goodbye, but she was talking to other parents. Just as well. The sooner he got away from her, the sooner he could get a grip on his emotions.

  Mitch wished he knew what was wrong with him. After vehemently opposing all talk about becoming romantically involved with Bethany Ross, he found it downright frightening to discover the effect she had on him.

  Sawyer debated what exactly he should say to his brother. It wasn’t often that he felt called upon to take Christian to task. But enough was enough. Christian had Mariah so unnerved the poor girl couldn’t do anything right.

  “She did it again,” Christian muttered as he walked past Sawyer’s desk to his own.

  Sawyer looked up. “Who?” he asked in an innocent voice.

  Seething, Christian jerked his head toward Mariah. “She can’t seem to find accounts receivable on the computer.”

  “It’s here,” Mariah insisted, her fingers on the keyboard. Even from where Sawyer was sitting, it looked as though she was randomly pressing keys in a desperate effort to find the missing data. “I’m just not sure where it went.”

  “Don’t you have it on a backup disk?” Sawyer asked.

  “Yes…”

  “Who knows?” Christian threw his hands in the air. “The backup disk’s probably in the same place as the missing file. We could be in real trouble here.” Panic edged his voice.

  “She’ll find it,” Sawyer said confidently.

  Mariah thanked him with a brief smile.

  “Let me look,” Christian demanded, flying out of his chair. “Before you crash the entire system.”

  “I lost it, I’ll find it.” Mariah didn’t budge from her seat. The woman had long since won Sawyer’s admiration, not least for the mettle she’d shown in dealing with his brother.

  “Leave her be,” Sawyer said.

  “And risk everything?”

  “We aren’t risking anything. There’s a backup disk.”

  Christian sat down at his desk, but his gaze remained on Mariah. Sawyer watched Christian. And Mariah did her level best to ignore them both.

  “Fact is, I could use a break,” Sawyer said. “Why don’t we let Ben treat us to a cup of coffee?”

  “Okay,” Christian agreed reluctantly.

  As Sawyer walked past Mariah’s desk, she mouthed a thank-you. He nodded and steered his irritable brother out the door.

  “I wish you wouldn’t be so hard on her,” he said the minute they were alone. It annoyed him to see Christian treat Mariah as if she didn’t have a brain in her head.

  “Hard on her?” Christian protested loudly. “The woman drives me insane. If it was up to me, she’d be out of here in a heartbeat. She’s trouble with a capital T.”

  “She’s a good secretary,” Sawyer argued. “The office has never been in better shape. The files are organized and neat, and the equipment’s been updated. Frankly I don’t know how we managed without her as long as we did.”

  Christian opened his mouth, then closed it. He didn’t have an argument.

  “Okay, so there was the one fiasco with that attorney,” Sawyer said, knowing that part of Christian’s anger stemmed from the confrontation with Tracy Santiago.

  Christian’s mouth thinned and his eyes narrowed. “Mark my words, she’ll be back.”

  “Who?”

  His brother eyed him scornfully. “The attorney, of course. If for nothing more than pure spite. That woman’s vicious, Sawyer. Vicious. And as if that’s not bad enough, she took an instant dislike to all of us—especially Duke. She’s out for revenge.”

  Sawyer didn’t believe that. True, Christian had been the one who’d actually talked to her, but his brother’s assessment of Tracy’s plans for revenge sounded a little far-fetched.

  “It’s my understanding that everything was squared once Mariah talked to her. I don’t think there’s any real threat.”

  “For now,” Christian said meaningfully. “But don’t think we’ve heard the end of this. Yup, you mark my words, Santiago’s gone for reinforcements.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would she do that if no one’s paying her fee? We’ve seen the last of her.”

  “I doubt it,” Christian muttered.

  Instead of going straight to Ben’s, they strolled toward the open hangar. John Henderson, who served as a sometime mechanic and a full-time pilot, was servicing the six-passenger Lockheed, the largest plane in their small fleet.

  When he saw them approach, John grabbed an oil rag from his hip pocket and wiped his hands. “Morning,” he called out cheerfully.

  Sawyer noticed that John had gotten his hair and beard trimmed. He wasn’t a bad-looking guy when he put some effort into his appearance. Of course, there hadn’t been much reason to do that until recently.

  It occurred to him that Duke Porter might learn a thing or two from John. Duke might have fared better with the Santiago woman had he been a bit more gentlemanly. Sawyer had never seen any two people take such an instant dislike to each other.

  “You’re looking good,” he commented, nodding at John, and to his surprise, the other man blushed.

  “I was thinking of asking the new schoolteacher if she’d have dinner with me Friday evening,” he said. Sawyer noted that John was studying Christian as if he expected him to object.

  “It’s Thursday, John,” Sawyer pointed out. “Just when do you plan to ask her?”

  “That depends.” Again John studied Christian.

  “What are you looking at me for?” Christian snapped, his mood as surly with John as it had been earlier with Mariah.

  “I just wanted to be sure you weren’t planning on asking her yourself.”

  “Why would I do that?” The glance Christian gave Sawyer said he had more than enough problems with one woman.

  John’s face broke into a wide grin of unspoken relief.

  Christian grumbled something under his breath as he headed out the other side of the hangar. Sawyer followed him to the Hard Luck Café.

  As they sat down at the counter, Ben stuck his head out from the kitchen. “It’s self-service this morning, fellows.”

  “No problem.” Sawyer walked around the counter and reached for the pot. He filled two mugs. Meanwhile, Christian helped himself to a couple of powdered-sugar doughnuts from under the plastic dome.

  “Getting back to Mariah,” Sawyer said when he’d finished stirring his coffee. He felt obliged to clear this up; in his opinion, Christian’s attitude needed adjustment.

  “Do we have to?”

  “Yes, we do. She’s proved herself to be a capable secretary.”

  “The woman’s nothing but a nuisance. She can’t type worth a damn, she misfiles correspondence, and she habitually loses things. The accounts-receivable disaster this morning is a prime example.”

  “I’ve never had any trouble with her,” Sawyer countered. “I’ve found Mariah hardworking and sincere.”

  “She makes too many mistakes.”

  “Frankly I don’t see it. If you ask me, you’re the problem. You make her nervous. She’s constantly worried that she’s going to mess up—it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, Christian. Besides,” Sawyer added, “she’s gone to a lot of trouble to work things out with her family and settle this lawsuit business. I admire her for that.”

  Christian obviously didn’t share his admiration. “I wish they’d talked her into returning to Seattle. That’s where she belongs.”

  Sawyer merely shrugged. “Face it—Mariah’s going to stay the entire year. It’s a matter of pride with her, and that’s something we can both understand.”

  Christian looked away.

  “She isn’t so bad, you know.” Sawyer slapped his brother affectionately on the back. “There’s one thing you seem to have conveniently forgotten.”

  “What’s that?”

  Sawyer grabbed one of Christian’s doughnuts. He grinned broadly. “You must’ve liked something about her. After all, you’re the guy who hired her.”

  “In other words, I don’t have anyone to blame but myself.”

  “You got it.” With that Sawyer walked out of the café, leaving his brother to foot the bill.

  In two weeks Bethany hadn’t seen even a glimpse of Mitch Harris. The man made himself as scarce as sunlight in an Alaskan winter. He must be working overtime, and she had to wonder if it was—at least partly—in an effort to avoid her.

  Bethany could accept that he wasn’t attracted to her if that was indeed the case. But the night they’d met and each time afterward, she’d sensed a growing awareness between them. She knew he felt it, too, even though he doggedly resisted it. Whenever they were in a room together, no matter how many people were present, their eyes gravitated toward each other. The solid ground beneath Bethany would subtly shift, and she’d have to struggle to hide the fact that anything was wrong.

  “Can I clean the blackboards for you, Ms. Ross?” Chrissie asked, interrupting her musings. The youngster stood next to Bethany’s desk. It would be very easy to love this child, she thought.

  Chrissie had been her student for two weeks, and it became increasingly difficult not to make her a teacher’s pet. The seven-year-old was so willing to please and always looked for ways to brighten Bethany’s day.

  If Bethany had any complaints about Mitch’s daughter, it was the number of times Chrissie introduced her father into the conversation. Clearly the girl adored him.

  “Can I?” she asked again, holding up the erasers.

  “Certainly, Chrissie. How thoughtful of you to ask. I’d be delighted if you cleaned the boards.”

  Chrissie flushed with pleasure. “I like to help my dad, too. He needs me sometimes.”

  “I’ll bet you’re good at helping him. You’ve been a wonderful assistant to me.”

  Once again the child glowed at Bethany’s approval. “My dad promised to pick me up after school today,” she said; she seemed to be watching for Bethany’s reaction to that news. From other bits of information Chrissie had dropped, Bethany knew that Mitch occasionally collected his daughter after school. She herself hadn’t seen him.

  “With your dad coming, maybe you should skip cleaning the boards this afternoon,” Bethany said. She didn’t want Mitch to be kept waiting because Chrissie was busy, nor did she want to force him to enter the classroom.

  “It’ll be all right,” Chrissie said quickly. “Don’t worry, Dad’ll wait.”

  Still, Bethany wasn’t confident that she was doing the right thing, especially since Mitch seemed to be avoiding her so diligently.

  The little girl was busy with the blackboards, standing on tiptoe to reach as far as she could, when Mitch walked briskly into the classroom. His movements were filled with impatience. His body language said he didn’t appreciate having to come and look for his daughter.

  As had happened before, his eyes flew to Bethany’s, and hers to his. Slowly she rose from behind her desk. “Hello, Mitch.”

  “Bethany.”

  “Hi, Dad! I’m helping Ms. Ross. I’m almost done,” Chrissie said lightheartedly. “All I have to do is go outside and get the chalk out of the erasers. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Mitch opened his mouth as though to protest, but before he could utter a word, Chrissie raced out the door.

  Bethany and Mitch were alone.

  They couldn’t stop staring at each other. Bethany would’ve paid good money to know what he was thinking. Not that she was all that clear about her own feelings. Their attraction to each other should have been uncomplicated, since neither of them was involved with anyone else.

  True, John Henderson, one of the bush pilots employed by Midnight Sons, had asked her to dinner. She’d accepted; there was no point in sitting around waiting for Mitch to ask her out, and John seemed pleasant.

  The silence between them grew. Mitch’s face was stern, his features set. Bethany sighed, uncertain how to break the ice.

  “I hear you’re going out to dinner with John Henderson this evening,” Mitch surprised her by saying.

  “Yes.” She wasn’t going to deny it.

  “I think that’s an excellent idea.”

  “My having dinner with John?”

  “Yes.”

  Their eyes remained locked. Finally she swallowed and asked, “Why?”

  “John’s a good man.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask the reason Mitch hadn’t asked her out himself. Mitch was attracted to her, and she to him. The force of that attraction was no small thing. Surely it would be better to discuss it openly, even if they didn’t act on their feelings. She longed to bring up the subject and see where it took them. But in the end she said nothing. Neither did Mitch.

  Chrissie reentered the classroom, and Bethany slowly moved her gaze from Mitch to his daughter.

  “The erasers are clean,” Chrissie announced. Her eyes were huge with expectation.

  “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  “You’re welcome. Can I clean them again next Friday?”

  “That would be very helpful.”

  “Have a nice evening,” Mitch said as he walked out the door, his hand on his daughter’s shoulder.

  “I will, thank you,” she called after them, but she didn’t think he heard.

  The encounter with Mitch left Bethany feeling melancholy. She accompanied Margaret Simpson to her house for a cup of coffee, hoping that a visit with the other teacher would cheer her up; however, she was distracted during their conversation. Once she arrived home, she turned on her CD player and lay down on the living room carpet, listening to Billy Joel—which said a great deal about her state of mind.