She wouldn’t give him a chance to explain. Ranting and raving, she’d started flinging whatever she could lay hands on. Matt had ducked when she’d sent her shoes flying in his direction. The saltshaker had scored a direct hit, smacking him in the chest.

  That had given her pause, he recalled, but not for long. Braving her anger, he’d advanced toward her. She’d refused to let him near her. When she ran out of easy-to-reach ammunition, she’d walked across the top of the sofa and leapt onto the chair, all the while shouting at the top of her lungs and threatening him with the pepper mill.

  It hadn’t taken much to capture her, and he’d let her yell and struggle in his arms for a few minutes. Then he did the only thing he could to silence Karen—kiss her.

  Soon, the pepper mill had tumbled from her hands and onto the carpet, and they were helping each other undress, their hands as urgent as their need.

  Afterward, he remembered, Karen had been quiet and still. While he lay there, appreciating the most incredible sex of his life, his wife had been planning their divorce. Less than a week later, she moved out and he was served with the papers.

  The smile faded as the sadness crept back into his heart.

  He modified his wish. He didn’t want Karen to be miserable. If someone had to be blamed, then fine, he’d accept full responsibility for their failure. He deserved it.

  He missed her so much! Never more than now. Whatever happened in the future with this lodge and the success of his business venture seemed of little consequence. Matt would go to his grave loving Karen.

  Like his grandmother before him, he would only love once.

  “You seem pensive,” Sawyer said as he sat on the edge of the bed and peeled off his socks.

  With her back propped against the headboard, Abbey glanced over the top of her mystery novel. “Of course I’m pensive,” she muttered, smiling at her husband. “I’m reading.”

  “You’re pretending to read,” he corrected. “You’ve got that look again.”

  “What look?” she asked him with an expression of pure innocence.

  “The one that says you’re plotting.”

  Abbey made a face at him. How could Sawyer know her so well? They hadn’t been married all that long. “And what exactly am I plotting?” She’d see if he could figure that one out.

  “I don’t know, but I’m sure you’ll tell me sooner or later.”

  “For your information, Mr. Know-It-All, I was just thinking about Thanksgiving.”

  Sawyer cocked his head to one side, as if to say he wasn’t sure he should believe her. “That’s almost a month away. Tell me what could possibly be so important about Thanksgiving that it would occupy your mind now?”

  “Well, for one thing, I was thinking we should ask Mitch and Chrissie to join us.” She glanced at her husband in order to gauge his reaction.

  Sawyer didn’t hesitate. “Good idea.”

  “And Bethany Ross.”

  A full smile erupted on Sawyer’s handsome face as he pointed his finger at her. “What did I say? You’re plotting!”

  “What?” Once more she feigned innocence.

  “You want to invite Mitch and Bethany to Thanksgiving dinner?”

  “Right,” she concurred, opening her eyes wide in exaggerated wonder that he could find anything the least bit underhand in such a courtesy. “And what, pray tell, is so devious about that?”

  His finger wagged again as he climbed into bed. “A little matchmaking, maybe? You’ve got something up your sleeve, Abbey O’Halloran.”

  “I most certainly do not,” she said with a touch of righteous indignation.

  “I notice you didn’t suggest inviting John Henderson.”

  “No,” she admitted.

  “Isn’t he the one Bethany’s been having dinner with for the past few weeks?”

  “They’re friends, that’s all.”

  “I see.” Sawyer leaned over and deftly reached for one end of the satin ribbon tying the collar of her pajama top. He slowly tugged until it fell open.

  “Besides, I heard from Mariah that John’s interested in someone else now.”

  Sawyer idly unfastened the first button. “Is that right?”

  Her husband’s touch was warm, creating feathery sensations that scampered across her skin.

  Sawyer’s eyes dropped to her mouth, and his voice lowered to a soft purr. “Mitch has lived here for a few years.”

  “True.” Her second button gave way as easily as the first.

  “If he was interested in remarrying, he’d have done something about it before now, wouldn’t you think?”

  Abbey closed her book and set it blindly on the table next to the bed. “Not necessarily.”

  “Do you think Mitch is interested in Bethany?” Sawyer slipped his hand inside the opening he’d created.

  Abbey closed her eyes at the feel of her husband’s fingers. “Yes.” The word sounded shockingly intimate.

  “As it happens,” Sawyer said in a husky whisper, “I agree with you.”

  “You do?” Her voice dwindled to a whisper. With her eyes still closed, she swayed toward him.

  Sawyer’s kiss was long and deep. The conversation about Mitch Harris and Bethany Ross stopped there. Instead, Sawyer and Abbey continued their dialogue with husky sighs and soft murmurs.

  Bethany walked into the Hard Luck Café shortly after ten on Saturday and sat at the counter. The place was empty. Ben wasn’t in sight, either, which was fine; she wasn’t in any hurry. Tired of her own company, she’d decided to take a walk and sort through what had happened between her and Mitch. Ha! she thought sourly. As if that was even possible.

  There wasn’t anyone she could ask about Mitch’s past. And apparently he wasn’t going to volunteer the information. He hadn’t said one word about his life before Hard Luck, and no one else seemed to know much, either.

  As for what had happened at the memorial service, Bethany had given up any attempt to make sense of it. For whatever reason, Mitch had turned to her. He’d kissed her with such intensity, such hunger.…Never before had she felt that kind of joy.

  Then he’d apologized. And she’d realized he had simply needed someone. Anyone. Any woman would have sufficed. She just happened to be handy. The minute he saw what he’d done, he regretted having touched her.

  “Bethany, hello! How are you this fine day?” As always, Ben greeted her with a wide smile as he bustled up to the counter. “We missed you at the wake after Catherine’s memorial service. The women in town put on a mighty fine spread.”

  There was probably some psychological significance in the fact that she’d sought Ben out now, Bethany decided. If she wasn’t so sick of analyzing the situation between her and Mitch, she might have delved into that question. As it was, she felt too miserable to care.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Is that so?” Without her asking, Ben filled a mug with coffee. “Then why those little lines between your eyes?”

  “What lines?”

  “When I’m stewing about something, these lines always appear. Right there.” He pointed to his own forehead. “Three of them. Seems to me you’re cursed with the same thing. Can’t fool a living soul, no matter how hard I try.” He smiled, encouraging her to talk.

  Bethany resisted the urge to tell him she’d come by those lines honestly. Inhaling a deep breath, she eyed him, wondering how much she dared confide in him about her feelings for Mitch. Darn little, she suspected. That she’d even wonder was a sign of how desperate she’d become. Still, maybe he could fill in a few details about Mitch’s background. With no other customers present, this was the optimum time to ask.

  “What can you tell me about Mitch?” she began.

  “Mitch? Mitch Harris?” All at once, Ben found it necessary to wipe down the counter. He ran a rag over the top of the already spotless surface. “Well, for one thing, he’s a damn good man. Decent, caring. Loves his daughter.”

  “He’s lived in Hard Luck for how long?” She already knew the answer, but she wanted to ease Ben into the conversation.

  “Must be around five years now.”

  She nodded. “I heard he worked for the police department in Chicago before that.”

  “That’s what I heard, too.”

  “Do you know how his wife died?” Since Ben wasn’t inclined to share any real information, she’d have to pry it out of him.

  “Can’t say I do.” His mouth twisted to one side, as if he was judging what he should and shouldn’t tell her. “I don’t think Mitch has ever talked about her to anyone. Hasn’t mentioned her to me.”

  Bethany heard the door open behind her. Their conversation was over, not that she’d gleaned any new facts.

  “If you’re curious about his wife,” Ben whispered, “I suggest you ask him yourself. He just walked in.”

  For the briefest of seconds, she felt like a five-year-old caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

  To her surprise, Mitch sat on the stool next to hers. He studied her for what seemed like minutes. “Hello, Bethany,” he finally said in a low voice.

  “Mitch.” She refused to meet his eyes.

  “I’m glad I ran into you.”

  Well, that was certainly a change.

  Ben strolled over and Mitch asked for coffee.

  “I’d like to talk to you, Bethany.” He gestured toward one of the booths, the steaming mug in his hand.

  She followed him to the farthest booth, and they sat across from each other. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, and when he lifted his head to look at her, his eyes were bleak.

  “Bethany, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I don’t know what else to say. I’ve lain awake nights worrying what you must think of me.”

  Confused and hurt, Bethany said nothing.

  He gestured helplessly. “I’m sorry. What more can I say? Talk to me, would you? Say something. Anything.”

  “What are you sorry for?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper. “Kissing me?”

  “Yes.”

  Even now he didn’t seem to realize she’d been a willing participant. “You needed me. Was that why?”

  “Yes,” he said, as if this was his greatest sin.

  She hesitated, searching for the words. “Any other woman would have done just as well. Isn’t that what you’re really saying? It wasn’t me you were kissing. It wasn’t me you needed. I just happened to…be available.”

  He didn’t disagree.

  Chapter 6

  November 1995

  “You’re going to do it, aren’t you?” Duke Porter asked John for the second time. An incredulous look contorted the pilot’s features. “You’re actually going to do it?”

  “Yes,” John said, irritated. He jerked the grease rag from his back pocket and brusquely wiped his hands.

  Duke followed him to the far end of the hangar while John put away the tools he’d used. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

  John didn’t hesitate. “I’m absolutely, positively sure.”

  “But you hardly know the woman.”

  “I know everything I need to know,” he muttered. Duke was good at raising his hackles, but nothing was going to ruin this day. The engagement ring was waiting in his pocket. His eagerness to propose was nothing compared to the way he felt about Sally.

  This time it was his turn. Earlier, he’d fallen all over himself in an attempt to court Abbey Sutherland. What he hadn’t known was that Sawyer O’Halloran had stolen her heart without giving any of the others a chance.

  Then there was Lanni Caldwell. John had never seriously considered her wife material, believing she’d only be in town for the summer. Duke might’ve been more interested in striking up a relationship with her, but once again they’d been beaten out by one of the O’Hallorans.

  John liked Mariah Douglas well enough, but it was plain as the nose on your face that she had eyes only for Christian. Besides, the last thing he wanted to do was tangle with her. Daddy Douglas just might sic that attorney on him.

  He’d had a shot with Bethany, the schoolteacher. In the beginning he was quite drawn to her. He knew she didn’t share his enthusiasm, but he’d figured that, given time, their friendship might grow into something more.

  Then Sally McDonald had arrived.

  Sally, with her pretty blue eyes and her gentle smile. He’d taken one look at her and his heart had stopped beating. In that moment, he’d recognized beyond any doubt that she was the one for him. After John had met Sally, he didn’t resent Sawyer for stealing Abbey away from him and the others. It seemed unimportant that Lanni was marrying Charles, or that Bethany Ross wasn’t as keen on him as he’d been on her. Sally was the one for him.

  “If you want my opinion…”

  John glared at Duke. “I didn’t ask for it, did I?”

  “No,” Duke said, “but I’m going to give it to you anyway.”

  John sighed loudly. “All right. If it’s so important, tell me what you think.”

  “I can understand why you’d want to marry Sally—” Duke began.

  “But you’re thinking about her for yourself!” This explained why Duke was poking into something that was none of his concern.

  “No way,” Duke said, raising both hands. “I’m off women. Too many of ’em are like that lawyer, looking for any excuse to chew a man’s butt.”

  “Tracy Santiago wasn’t like that.” John grinned broadly at the memory of their clashes. To be fair, he wasn’t interested in her for himself, but he kinda liked the way she’d cut Duke down to size. “She was doing her job, that’s all.”

  “Listen, if you don’t mind, I’d rather not discuss that she-devil. She’s gone, at least for now, and all I can say is good riddance. The woman was nothing but a nuisance.”

  John swallowed a laugh. He’d never seen Duke get this riled up over a woman. It seemed to his inexperienced eye that his friend protested too much. He figured that, this time, Duke had met his match. Too bad Tracy lived in Washington State and Duke in Alaska.

  “About Sally…” The other pilot broached the topic again.

  John could see there was no escaping his friend’s unwanted counsel. “All right,” he said, giving in. Duke was going to state his opinion whether John wanted to hear it or not. He might as well listen—or pretend to.

  “Don’t get me wrong here,” Duke said, shoving his hands into his pockets as though he found this difficult. “I like Sally. Who wouldn’t? She’s a real sweetheart.”

  “Exactly.”

  “The thing that concerns me is…she’s young.”

  “Not that much younger than Bethany. Or Lanni.”

  “True, only Sally’s led a more sheltered life than either of them.”

  John couldn’t argue with that. Sally had been raised in a British Columbia town with a population of less than a thousand. From what he understood, her family was a close-knit one. She’d attended a small, private high school and a church-affiliated college. When finances became too tight for her to continue her education, she’d gotten a job working in an accounting office in Vancouver. That was where she’d read Christian’s newspaper ad and applied for the job with Hard Luck Power and Light.

  “You know why she came to Hard Luck, don’t you?”

  “Yeah.” John knew, and frankly he was surprised Duke did, too. After moving to Vancouver, Sally had become involved with a fast-talking man who’d ultimately broken her heart. He’d been married; she’d found out because his wife had shown up at her door.

  According to what she’d told him, Sally had walked away from the relationship feeling both heartsick and foolish. When she read about Midnight Sons offering land, housing and jobs, she’d jumped at the opportunity to start over. This time she’d do it in a small-town environment, the kind of place she was comfortable with.

  “Are you sure she’s over this other guy?” Duke asked.

  “I’m sure.” Although he made it sound like there could be no question, John wasn’t entirely convinced. He was grateful Duke didn’t challenge his response.

  “What about her family?” the other pilot asked instead.

  “What about them?” John said defensively. He didn’t much like where Duke’s questions were leading.

  “From what you’ve said, they’re the old-fashioned sort. If you’re serious about marrying their daughter, the thing to do is talk to her father first. Meet him face-to-face and tell him you love Sally and—”

  “How am I supposed to do that?” John wanted to know. “Sal’s dad lives in some dinky town on the coast. It’s not like I can leave here. Especially now.”

  Winter had set in full force. Temperatures had dipped into the minus range every day for a solid week. Whenever it fell to minus thirty, Midnight Sons had to cancel all flights. The stress to the aircraft was too great a risk.

  Snow accumulations measured forty inches or more in the past month alone. Thanksgiving was two weeks away, and there didn’t seem to be any break in the weather ahead. In a word, they were snowed in. No matter how much he wanted to meet Sally’s family, for the time being it was impossible.

  “First,” Duke said, and held up his hand. He folded down one finger. “You got a woman who’s only recently turned twenty-one, so she’s young. Younger than any of the others who’ve come to Hard Luck. Secondly—” he bent down another finger “—she moved here on the rebound, hoping to cure a broken heart.”

  “Third,” John said, fighting back his frustration, “she comes from a family who wouldn’t appreciate their daughter marrying a man they haven’t personally met and approved.”

  “If you start out on the wrong foot with her parents, it could take years to make up for it,” Duke said. “If you truly love her—”

  “I do,” John insisted, then added in a lower voice, “I’ve never felt so strongly about anyone.”

  His friend nodded in understanding. “Then do this right. I can’t think of a single reason to rush into marriage, can you?”

  John could list any number of reasons to marry Sally that very day, but said nothing.

  “If she’s the one for you, then everything will work out the way it’s supposed to, and you’ve got nothing to worry about.”