Against the Sky (4 page)

Three weeks had passed since Samantha's trip to Vegas. Three short weeks and her entire life had changed.

She blinked and tears trickled down her cheeks. “I don't want to be pregnant. I'm not ready to be pregnant. We used protection. It was just for fun. This isn't fair.”

It was seven o'clock in the evening. They were sitting in the office she shared with Abby at the back of The Perfect Pup, which was closed for the day, all the dogs freshly groomed and delivered or picked up by their owners. The pleasant scent of doggie shampoo hid the smell of wet dog that usually lingered for a while after the crew had cleaned and scrubbed the place, getting it ready to open in the morning.

Abby handed Samantha a Kleenex. “You said Nick gave you the perfect weekend. Now he's given you the perfect gift.”

Samantha let out a wail and started crying again. Her memories were far from perfect now.

Abby patted her on the back. “It's not so bad, honey. You like kids, right? You've always liked kids. Now you're going to have one.”

Samantha dabbed the Kleenex beneath her eyes. “I love kids. I'd love to have a baby—someday. After I've fallen in love. After I've gotten married to a man who loves me as much as I love him—when both of us are ready to settle down and have a family.”

“You sound like that time's a long ways away.”

“It's years away, maybe decades.” More tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them away and blew her nose.

“Look. You said Nick was perfect. Maybe he's ready to settle down. Maybe Nick Brodie's the man you're looking for.”

Samantha's head shot up. “What are you talking about? I'm not looking for a man, and I barely know Nick.”

Abby studied her face; then she frowned. “You aren't thinking of not telling him? That would hardly be fair, Samantha.”

She sniffed. “If I tell him, he might not even believe it's his. I don't know how he feels about children. I can't expect him to want to raise a child with a woman he's known for three days. Who knows, maybe he's abusive. Maybe he'd be a terrible father. I can't take the risk.”

Abby continued to frown. “You aren't . . . you aren't thinking of getting rid of it?”

Horror flashed in her eyes. “Of course not! How could you even say something like that?”

Abby started smiling. “Okay, then. That's what I thought. So you'll call Nick. I doubt very much he's abusive or some kind of pervert. You'll talk to him, tell him about the baby. See what he has to say.”

Samantha started shaking her head. “I'm not calling Nick Brodie. No way. Not just out of the blue. I'm the one who's pregnant. I'm the one who has to figure this out.”

“Fine, at least e-mail him. Tell him you've been thinking about him. See if he has any interest in continuing the relationship.”

She mulled that over. Having a baby was monumental. She needed to make the right decision. To do that she needed to see Nick, maybe find a way to spend some time with him, find out what he was really like. His memory was still fresh in her mind, but as she'd told Abby, she didn't really know him.

Declining supper at the pub down the block with Abby and Mr. Tall-blond-and-handsome, Ron Goldberg, Abby's latest conquest, Samantha left the office and headed for home. It was just around the corner on Green Street, one of those old-style buildings with a garage underneath and apartments on the floors above, each with a big bay window in the living room.

Wearily climbing the stairs, Samantha went in and closed the door, walked across the living room, and flopped down on the burgundy overstuffed sofa.

Fresh tears threatened. She couldn't remember crying this much since high school when she'd failed to be chosen for the cheerleading squad.

She was older now, and wiser—or at least she should be. She thought of the chilled bottle of chardonnay in the fridge she had opened a couple of nights ago. God, she could use a glass of wine—or maybe the rest of the bottle. She scoffed. Who was she kidding? No more alcohol—not for nine long months.

She closed her eyes. She was pregnant. There was nothing to do but accept the fact she was going to have a baby.

Which meant there would be things she needed to buy and lots of bills to pay. Thinking of the money she would have to earn, she released a teary sigh and shoved herself up from the sofa, determined to focus on her job and the Internet marketing plan she had been working on.

Her laptop sat open on a pretty little antique oak desk against the wall, an ornately carved high-backed oak chair in front of it. She loved antiques. Though the kitchen, laundry, and two bathrooms had been remodeled, with its high, molded ceilings and hardwood floors, the apartment still had an old-fashioned flavor. The oak claw-foot coffee table in front of the sofa and her old oak dining table suited the place exactly.

She loved the apartment, which was walking distance to her office at The Perfect Pup, in an area full of neighborhood stores and restaurants. Since the place had two spacious bedrooms, at least she wouldn't have to move after the baby was born.

As she sat down in front of her laptop, depression washed through her. She wished she could get excited about being pregnant, the way a lot of her girlfriends would be. They thought being a single mom was fine. Some of them had even considered paying a sperm donor to give them a baby.

But Samantha was as old-fashioned as her apartment. She believed in marriage first, then kids when the time was right. And even if Nick offered marriage—which she would never accept unless she was actually in love with him—he lived in Alaska. No way was she moving to a frozen tundra like that.

She brushed away a tear. Maybe it was just hormones. Maybe all newly pregnant women were weepy. Maybe tomorrow she would feel better.

Pushing the Start button on her laptop, she waited for the screen to come up, then clicked on her e-mail and watched a line of messages fill the screen.

Her mom had sent a note, just checking in from Sacramento where she and Dad lived. There was a note from her younger brother, Peter, who was a senior at U.C. Davis. He was dating a new girl, he said. Heather was athletic, the way he was, and he really liked her.

What's happening with you, sis? his cheerful note ended.

Samantha answered both messages with a vague reply, telling them she was working hard and things were going great at the shop, saying nothing about the baby.

God in heaven, she wasn't ready for that, at least not yet.

She skimmed the rest of her mail, mostly junk advertising from Internet sites where she had made purchases. On a whim she went to Google and typed in newborn baby clothes. A jillion sites popped up. She clicked on Lollipop Moon just because she liked the name. But seeing the photos of a dozen grinning little kids only made her feel worse.

She turned off the machine, went into the bedroom and flopped down on her four-poster bed. She wasn't really tired, but depression made her lethargic. She napped a while, got up and fixed herself a sandwich, tried to watch TV, finally gave up and went to bed early.

Unfortunately, once it was dark, she couldn't fall asleep. Instead she thought about Nick Brodie and the baby, and what she should do.

By midnight, she had convinced herself. She would wait to tell Nick, maybe even get all the way through the pregnancy before she told him, maybe even wait a few years after that. Nick would be older, more ready to accept the fact he was a father. A DNA test would prove his paternity. He might even be happy about it.

She finally fell asleep sometime after three. The bad news was, when she woke up in the morning, none of the decisions she had made during the night seemed to be the right ones.

At least she wasn't so depressed. She had always been able to bounce back from adversity. Being optimistic was part of her nature. This situation was no different.

She thought of her sister, Danielle, who had died when Samantha was ten, a subject she rarely allowed herself to think of and almost never mentioned. The pain had been nearly unbearable, even worse for her parents. But unlike other families, the loss of a loved one had pulled them more tightly together. Having a baby would be the same.

Feeling a little more in control, Samantha showered and dressed for work, then went into the kitchen for a quick bowl of Cheerios. Carrying the bowl into the living room, she sat down at her laptop and ate as she pulled up her messages.

The first came from a friend in college she hadn't heard from in over a year. Carrie and Mark were getting married. Carrie was really excited. Samantha slid back into depression.

She clicked up a couple of meaningless e-mails, then her heart jerked and started pounding.
[email protected]
.
Nick Brodie.
She sat up straighter as she read the note he had sent.

Samantha closed her eyes. She felt as if she'd hit another jackpot like the one she had struck in Las Vegas. Every time she thought of Nick, she felt confused and uncertain. She needed to see him before she could make any sort of reasonable decision about the baby. She needed to find out if her initial opinion of him was correct, find out if he was the kind of man he had seemed. She needed to figure out what he would think about sharing a child with her.

Her stomach rolled and she set her unfinished bowl of cereal aside. Would Nick stand up to his responsibilities? Or would he want nothing to do with the baby? Should she even tell him? She had to go to Alaska to find out.

And Nick was giving her the chance.

For the first time since she had seen that little strip turn pink and the doctor had confirmed her pregnancy, Samantha felt as if things might work out.

She hit the Reply button. I've been thinking about you, too. I'd love to come, but I'd need some time to get to know you again. Does that make sense? We kind of did things in a hurry. Let me know how you feel about that. Samantha

No way was she hopping back into bed with him. She was already paying a very high price for her impulsive behavior the last time.

Nick must have been sitting at his computer because her mail dinged and a note from him came right back.

A couple of weeks. Time enough to decide what she should do. She thought of Abby. They'd just started to work on expanding their marketing plan and tossing around ideas for adding new services.

But she knew what her best friend would say. Abby would tell her business could wait, that deciding what to do about the baby was more important.

She hit the Reply key. If you're sure I wouldn't wear out my welcome, I could take that much time. She took a deep breath and hit Send.

A few seconds later, her cell phone rang. Samantha couldn't stop the little thrill that ran through her when she pressed the phone against her ear and heard Nick's deep voice on the other end of the line. A thrill that had nothing to do with the baby and everything to do with Nick Brodie.

Samantha felt a surge of panic at the thought she could be stepping out of the frying pan into a very hot fire.

It felt good to be working. Or at least temporarily working. The assignment he had taken with Baxter Security had lasted only two weeks, but the bodyguard detail had given him something to do, and he was good at it.

He'd been off since then, but yesterday, the company had called again. The president of Great Northern Petroleum, Bill Foley, had been pleased with the security people Baxter had provided during his visit. He wanted the same guys on his team when he brought his family up in three weeks.

The timing would be perfect. Samantha would be arriving today for a two-week stay. She would be leaving a little before his assignment kicked in. Never a patient man, Nick prowled his living room, trying to speed up time so he could leave for the airport.

He thought of Samantha and the few days he had spent with her. He had no idea why he had invited her for a visit. With her living so far away, their relationship—or lack of one—was doomed to end in failure.

Still, what he had told her was the truth. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. He wanted to see her again, if only to convince himself she wasn't any different from any other woman he'd dated. That it was just a casual fling and nothing more.

Hell, they didn't even have that much in common. He had no idea what there was about her that attracted him so strongly, but something sure as hell had. Maybe the next two weeks would give him the answer.

One thing he knew—it was going to be hell keeping his hands off her. He'd wanted her since the moment he had seen her in the hallway fighting off a guy twice her size, five-foot-two-inches of sweet curves and soft smiles. After nearly a month, he still had erotic dreams about her. But he wasn't going to pressure her into having sex with him. It would happen or it wouldn't. Nick hoped like hell it would.

He checked the heavy wristwatch he'd been wearing since his days as an Army Ranger. Seemed like a lifetime ago. But those years in Iraq and Afghanistan, combined with the time he had spent as a homicide detective, were the reason he had finally left the police force.

Too much blood and death. Too much dealing with the evil side of human nature.

The hands of the watch finally ticked into place. It was time to start the hour-plus drive to the Anchorage airport. Samantha's early morning Alaska Airlines flight out of San Francisco, with a plane change in Portland, Oregon, took about six hours' flying time. She'd be arriving a little after noon. He wasn't sure he should be looking forward so much to seeing her, but he was.

Glad to finally be under way, Nick headed out through the kitchen to the separate garage and climbed into his black Explorer. When he powered open the garage door, started the engine, and began to back out, he spotted Jimmy Evans walking over to the driveway. Nick stopped the car and rolled down the window.

“Hey, buddy, what's up?”

“I gotta talk to you, Nick,” the boy said solemnly. “It's important.” The kid looked thinner and years older than he had the last time Nick had seen him a couple of weeks ago. Jimmy hadn't shown up that Saturday morning to go fishing. Then Nick had gotten busy with his protection job and hadn't seen the boy since.

A wave of guilt washed over him. He knew the kid was hurting. He wished he could find a way to help. “Listen, buddy, I'm just on my way to the airport to pick up a friend who's coming to visit. I'll be back later this afternoon. How about we talk then?”

Jimmy bit his lip. He glanced anxiously behind him. “You won't forget, will you?”

“I won't forget. If I do—you just come over and remind me, all right?”

The boy looked relieved. “Okay.”

“Okay, then.” Nick smiled. “See ya there, polar bear.” Their inside joke—both being fans of the Aces hockey team—didn't bring the usual smile.

“See ya,” Jimmy said darkly.

In his rearview mirror, Nick watched the kid meander up the hill the way he had come, his steps slow and plodding. Jimmy's house was a ways up the road, among a thick stand of pines, a big, expensive home with expansive views of the lake. From Nick's porch, he could just get a glimpse of it through the trees.

Alex Evans had been a successful accountant and it showed in the architectural design of the house and its plush interior. Nick figured it probably felt strangely empty now that Jimmy's dad was gone.

Nick watched the kid disappear out of sight and vowed to make time for the boy. He hoped Samantha would understand, figured if she was anything like the woman he pictured in his mind, she would.

He would soon find out. Driving the SUV along the winding road around the lake, Nick headed for the Parks Highway. Off to his left the water lapped against a shoreline that was dotted with tall, dark pines. As long as he'd lived in Alaska, he'd never gotten tired of the scenery.

The weather was another story. By the time he reached the highway and turned toward Anchorage, a light mist had started to fall. Nick turned on the windshield wipers and stepped on the gas, eager to get to the city.

 

 

It was only a little after noon, Alaska time, when Samantha departed the plane. She should have been tired as she towed her carry-on through the airport toward the baggage claim. She'd had to get up at four in the morning to make the long cab ride to the airport to catch the seven a.m. flight to Anchorage.

She'd tried to sleep on the plane, but her nerves wouldn't ease up and she hadn't been able to do more than nap for a few minutes off and on. Now, as she spotted the tall man with the wavy black hair standing next to the baggage carousel, those nerves kicked up again.

Even from a distance, it was impossible to miss Nick Brodie. Those slashing black brows, high cheekbones and amazing blue eyes, that hard male body that oozed sexual virility. As he started walking toward her with the long, purposeful strides she remembered, it only took an instant to recall why she had tossed caution to the wind and gone to bed with him.

In that same instant, she was also reminded of the consequences.

Her pulse kicked up with nerves. Samantha pasted on a smile and moved toward Nick, came to a halt right in front of him.

“Hi,” she said lamely.

Nick smiled, bent his head and very briefly kissed her. “Welcome to Alaska.”

“I can't believe I'm really here.”

“You're really here, and I'm really glad to see you.” He glanced down at the heavy black wristwatch she remembered him wearing in Las Vegas. “It's after twelve,” he said. “I thought before we head back to the house, we'd get some lunch. You hungry?”

“Starving. There wasn't much to eat on the plane.”

“Now there's an understatement. I know a place in the city with some good food and amazing views. You'll get your first real look at Alaska.”

She thought of the endless forest stretching forever and the miles of empty ocean she had seen from the plane. “I saw some of it on the way.”

“Yeah, it's really great,” he said, missing her noncommittal tone of voice.

Behind them, the luggage carousel started up, and it didn't take long for her bag to appear. Nick wheeled the larger bag toward the exit while she towed her carry-on.

As they crossed the parking lot, Samantha shivered at the chill in the air and wished she'd worn heavier clothes. Her black leggings, short skirt, low heeled shoes and lightweight sweater weren't warm enough.

But the weather was still nice in the Bay area, would be for at least a little while longer. At least she'd packed jeans, sneakers and socks, and a decent jacket. Abby had talked her into buying a pair of hiking boots, but she'd never had them on.

The air was misting as Nick led the way to a black Ford Explorer, loaded in the bags, then helped her climb up in the passenger seat. The tires were big, pushing the vehicle way off the ground, so she didn't mind his help.

She buckled herself in while Nick rounded the car and slid behind the wheel.

“So where are we going?” she asked, still trying to get a handle on her nerves. There was no hurry, she reminded herself as he started the engine, nothing she needed to do but relax and enjoy her time with Nick, try to get to know him. For the time being, she needed to put everything else on the back burner.

“There's a place downtown . . . Simon and Seafort's. It's been around a while. I think you'll like it.”

The restaurant, which called itself a saloon and grill, had an old-fashioned decor that made her feel right at home and helped ease some of her nerves. For the first time, she began to relax.

“We're famous for our seafood,” Nick said as she looked at the menu and tried to decide what to order. “Crab cakes here are great. Steamed clams. Sandwiches. Pretty much everything.”

Choosing a seafood salad made with fresh grilled salmon, bay shrimp, and Dungeness crab, she discovered he was right, the food was delicious. At least she'd found something good in Alaska.

And she couldn't deny the views from the restaurant, perched on a hill, were spectacular: a silvery ocean stretching for miles, misty clouds hanging over the surface of the water. Alaska might be remote, but the scenery was spectacular. The city itself was hilly, though nothing as steep as the hills in San Francisco. She hadn't expected to find skyscrapers in Anchorage, a welcome sight, even if there weren't that many and the buildings weren't as tall as the ones at home.

They finished the meal, the conversation fairly easy, but as they walked outside, the light mist that had been falling had turned into a full-blown storm.

“It's wet a lot this time of year, but there's still some great stuff to see, and it probably won't snow for a while.”

Probably?
“It rains quite a bit in San Francisco. I usually don't mind.” Besides she hadn't really come to sightsee. “If I remember right, you live in a town called Fish Lake.”

“Not much of a town, but yeah, that's right. It's about sixty miles away.”

Sixty miles from civilization.
“How big is it?”

“Population's about twenty-six hundred. But Wasilla's only twenty miles away from there. It's got nearly eight thousand people. They've got a lot more services there.”

“Eight-thousand,” she repeated dully, thinking of the shopping she enjoyed at Neiman Marcus and Saks.

You aren't moving here,
she reminded herself. But she couldn't help worrying what Nick would expect when she told him about the child she carried. Would he demand she move up here so that they could share custody?

Samantha suppressed a shiver and focused her attention on the road, determined not to worry about something that was still eight months away.

Nick flicked her a sideways glance and she realized it had been quiet in the car too long.

“So how's the pet-grooming business?” he asked.

Since she liked talking about her job, she was grateful he had chosen the topic. “Really great. We're looking for at least two new locations. I've been studying the competition. Doing a little fieldwork, but working mostly on the Internet. I'm putting together suggestions for services we might add to increase our business.”

“Such as?”

“Adding doggie day care, for one thing, along with overnight boarding, and training. We could offer fenced-in grass play areas, heated indoor facilities with doggie beds, even a nighttime snuggle-down with Milk Bones.”

Nick's deep voice boomed out a laugh. “You're kidding, right? San Francisco dogs get a nightly snuggle-down? I think I could go for one of those myself.”

She tried to summon a little outrage, but found herself grinning instead. “You're right, it sounds crazy. But I'm just the marketing person. I don't even have a dog. And if that's what people want and they're willing to pay for it, that's what we need to provide.”

“So you work a lot on the Internet,” he said.

Samantha smiled. “I'm a Google whiz.”

Nick cocked a sleek dark eyebrow. “I'll remember that. You never know when it might come in handy.”

Samantha relaxed back into her seat. “So tell me about Alaska. You were raised here, right? I know you lost your parents. What about your brothers, what are they like?”

“They're both still up here. My dad moved up from Texas just after Rafe was born. He's the oldest. Rafe lives in Valdez now. He owns a fleet of charter fishing boats. My brother, Dylan, is a float plane pilot. He owns a fishing lodge down on the Panhandle.”

“So you're the baby of the family. Maybe that's the reason you joined the Rangers. You had something to prove to your brothers.”

“Could be, I guess. Mostly, I believed in God and country.” He smiled. “Still do.”

She remembered the way he had saved her that night in Las Vegas. Nick definitely had the hero gene.

“What about Alaska? Why do you like it so much?”

For the next few minutes, Nick talked about the wilderness and what it was like to live here. The freedom, the beauty, the wide-open spaces.

“Best time to see it is in the summer. The contrast between blue water and brilliant white, snow-capped mountains is incredible. Fall's pretty with the leaves changing color. Fall's hunting season. Moose and bear, mostly. It's just about over now.”

She thought people should have the right to feed themselves but the idea of actually shooting an animal made her chest feel tight.

“Great fishing almost anywhere up here,” Nick continued. “Winters are hard, but you get used to them.” He talked about deep snow and sled dogs and ice fishing.

Samantha looked out through the rain-washed windows and felt a rush of despair.