Melting His Alaskan Heart (3 page)

“Nice costume,” Trent commented.

“Guess what Trent is,” Sven said.

Ethan glanced at the skin-tight nylon pants and frilly long-sleeved shirt. “I don’t know. A ballroom dancer?”

Sven slapped him on the shoulder. “Close. A figure skater. Now guess what I am?”

Ethan shrugged. “A matador?”

“No. Christopher Columbus.”

Ethan nodded and picked up his beer, hoping they’d talk to Carly so he could leave. He just needed to finish his beer first.

Carly’s eyes lit up from behind her mask. “Hello, Christopher Columbus, I’m Carly.” She reached out to clasp each of Dane’s friends’ hands. “I’m trying to convince Mr. Forrester to give me an interview. Maybe you two could help me out?”

Now he saw her evil plan. Recruit help to persuade him to cave.

Trent, the hockey player turned figure skater, laughed. “Good luck with that.”

“Who’s your employer?” asked Sven, the Spaniard.

“
Alaska Today
,” she replied.

“Impressive,” Sven muttered. “Give her the interview, Dane. I’m sure she’ll do you justice.”

Ethan grunted in response and guzzled more beer. So much for his plan to leave them with the girl.

“Well…good talking with you then. We thought we’d check up on you. Make sure you’re all right,” Trent said with a knowing glance. “Sven, let’s go.”

“Ah, yeah, I’m good, thanks.” But what he really wanted to say was, keep the girl occupied so I can leave.

Ethan watched them walk away and he could feel Carly staring at him. He needed to make a quick exit. He’d been at the party long enough. The management must have seen him by now.

“Dane, please, I’m serious,” she said. “My job really is on the line. I’m being honest here. I’m not usually the type to beg, but in this case, I’m desperate.”

What would it hurt to answer a few questions? He never understood why Dane kept his personal life so private anyway. Hell, Ethan had more reasons to keep his past private than Dane did. Ethan could tell a few stories about their childhood and call it good. Besides, Dane was the one who insisted they play this presto-chango charade. He’d have to live with the consequences. “I’m sure I can answer a few questions for you. No harm in that.”

“Oh, thank you, Dane.” She stood up and wrapped her arms around him.

Startled, he leaned back, their faces inches from each other. The smell of vanilla and spiced tea wafted between them.

“I’m sorry.” Confusion marred her expression. She sat back on her stool and finished the last of her drink.

“Would you like another drink?” Ethan asked.

“That’d be great.” Carly swiveled in her chair and crossed her legs. “So the first question I wanted to ask about is the Cincinnati incident.”

Shit. Ethan couldn’t answer questions about that. Dane hit a slap shot into the face of a player on the opposing team, consequently breaking his jaw. It wasn’t Dane’s fault if the pros chose not to wear face shields. Accidents happened. He knew that better than anyone.
The
Macarena
sounded from the other side of the room. “Could we start with something a little less recent? How about when I was a kid?”

“Sure. Sure. That’d be great.” Carly downed the rest of her drink.

The music got louder. “I’m having a hard time hearing you, especially with this knight’s helmet on my head,” Ethan said. “Do you mind if we step into the lobby?”

“That’s a great idea. I bet it is quieter out there. Let me run to the ladies’ room and I’ll meet you in the lobby in five minutes. Sound good?”

“Sure. See you there.” Her halo and wings fit her honest, straight-forward personality. While he, on the other hand, was the devil incarnate. All he needed was a three-pronged pitchfork to go along with his scarred face. He was the Beast next to her Beauty.

Carly slid off the stool. Her cleavage drew his attention. Damn, what a rack, and real, too. Unlike him—the counterfeit version of Dane.

She wove through the people. Her derriere swayed back and forth.

This was his chance to make an escape. The penthouse suite called to him.

CHAPTER 3

Carly had a little trouble navigating her way to the ladies’ room, not because she didn’t know the way, but because she felt lightheaded. Her platform gothic boots suddenly seemed three feet high instead of three inches. Despite the waves of dizziness, she found the bathroom, closed the door, and squealed in delight. Bunching up her fist, she punched the air, one, two, three times. “Yes!” she called out to no one but herself.

A jumble of nerves, she could have never been prepared for the smack in the gut that was Dane Forrester. Testosterone leapt off the guy’s skin. After swooping into the seat next to him, she’d been so flustered, first by his mere presence, then by her lack of money, she just blurted out what she needed.

Still embarrassed by her brash approach, she thought maybe her costume was the reason he’d agreed to the interview. If that was the case, she had Velma to thank. After her first paycheck, she was going to take her out to lunch. She owed her.

Her belly rumbled and her balance went off kilter. She grabbed the edge of the bathroom sink and peered in the mirror. Had she eaten any lunch today? No, she’d completely forgotten. This might be why she was feeling so tipsy. Two Long Island iced teas on an empty stomach—not smart.

But none of that mattered. Time to focus on the interview. Carly re-applied her lipstick, checked if her mascara was holding up under the mask, and decided she was ready. Pushing open the bathroom doors, she followed the signs out to the lobby.

The sports journalist world was relatively small. She’d heard other columnists complain about what a real horse’s ass Dane could be, but she saw none of that. Just goes to show how you shouldn’t listen to rumors and innuendoes. She opened her purse and made sure she brought her tape recorder. Check. Paper and pen. Check. List of questions. Check.

Glancing across the lobby, she didn’t immediately see Dane, but she smelled the food. Maybe she could convince him to eat with her before the interview. No, she couldn’t do that. What if he changed his mind? She needed to strike while the iron was hot. So cliché, but so true. She walked through the lobby. Still no sight of Dane.

Conversations she’d listened to about the Stanley Cup-winning team captain spun to the forefront of her disorganized thoughts. She tried to think about the game of hockey instead of the man. He couldn’t be the team captain if he didn’t have some redeeming qualities. Integrity, leadership, and honesty came to mind. The coach of the Alaska Fury wouldn’t have him as captain if he didn’t possess a big dose of reliability, and that had to include sticking to your word. Right?

Carly strode through the lobby again looking for his knight costume. Her heart beat faster as she recalled her meeting with Harv. Dane wouldn’t back out on his end of the deal, would he? Finally, the desk receptionist asked, “Excuse me, is there anything I can help you with? You look lost.”

“I was supposed to meet Dane, a costumed knight out here, from the party. We said five minutes. Maybe I’m early or he’s late.”

“Do you mean Dane Forrester?”

“Yes.”

“I saw him not too long ago. He was headed toward the west bank of elevators.”

“Thank you very much.” Carly briskly walked to the west side of the hotel. She reached the wall of elevators and before she could decide what to do, Dane stepped out and almost ran smack into her.

“Excuse me.” He placed his hand on her elbow like he might stumble if he didn’t.

“There you are. We were supposed to meet in the lobby. I was afraid you’d left.”

“Me, leave? Never.” He pointed to his chest. “I went to my room for a minute, is all. I needed to readjust my chainmail.”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded and couldn’t decide if his sarcasm was genuine. “You weren’t running away from me, were you?”

“And if I was running, I didn’t get very far.” He placed his hand at the center of her back and guided her toward the lobby.

His warm masculine essence encompassed her. A giddy schoolgirl feeling spun around her like a web. “So you’re staying the night here?”

Other women approached him as they walked. He gave them a polite “hello” then moved on with her, his hand never lifting from her back. “I got a good deal.”

“You got a good deal? Where are you, in the penthouse suite?”

“Yup.” He wasn’t paying any attention to the other women who approached. Dane Forrester was almost acting as though she, Carly Hughes, was his date. She needed food to absorb the alcohol in her system. Truly, she must not be seeing things clearly.

“I’m just a simple Alaskan kid from a small Alaskan town. I want a good deal, just like anybody else.”

“Is that on the record?” she asked.

“Yup.” He guided her toward a set of sofas beside a fake fireplace. “Should we sit here?”

“Sure.” Carly reached in her purse, took out her tape recorder, and hit the
on
button. He waited for her to sit. Then he sat beside her. His knee brushed against hers. Heat enveloped her, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the fireplace or radiating from Dane. Instead of pulling away, she let their knees touch. She wanted the interview to be intimate.

She placed the tape recorder on the oak coffee table and took out her list of questions. The warmth from their knees touching spread up to her thighs. She should slide over, but she didn’t want to. His hands were large. A small burn covered the back of his left hand. She wanted to ask what happened, but just before she spoke, her stomach gurgled.

“Was that you?” he asked. “Are you hungry?”

“Sorry.” How embarrassing. “Yes, I forgot to eat lunch today.”

“I understand they’ve got quite a spread. It cost enough to attend this shindig, we should eat some of the food.” His fist bunched, then he tapped his fingers on his thigh.

“No, it’s okay.” She needed to stick to business. “How old were you when you started skating?”

“Listen. I’m hungry, too. Heck, I can always eat. I was going to order room service later, but that doesn’t make sense when there’s food we’ve already paid for here.” He stood up. “Come on, let’s go. You can still ask me questions over dinner.”

He extended his hand. She hesitated only a second before placing her hand in his. “When you put it like that, how can I refuse?”

That woozy off-balance feeling came over her again. She really did need food, but her unsteady equilibrium was more from Dane’s hand wrapped around hers than it was from her empty stomach. No, she would not fall for this guy, not today, not any day. He was a player, literally and by reputation.

She had no interest in getting to know him, only getting the interview.

That’s what she kept telling herself as they moved toward the buffet line with his hand pressed at the small of her back. The warmth of his fingers seeped to other parts of her body too, including her very core. Other women approached them, but it was as if Dane sent out a covert signal warning them away before they stepped closer. He was so tall and dark, and…well, he was a knight and she felt like a princess.

It seemed to Carly as though he walked beside her not as a journalist and star athlete bound for an interview, but like they were a couple. The idea of it startled her so much, she stumbled.

Dane caught her easily. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” She glanced at him, snatched a dinner plate, and extended it to the servers. The smell of prime rib, halibut, and vegetables wafted around them, but she only smelled the masculine scent of Dane. “The food smells good.”

“Sure does.” He guided her through the line. Her belly did a somersault, but it had little to do with the food and everything to do with him.

White linen tablecloths covered square tables interspersed throughout the room. A band played on the opposite end of the room from the buffet. Dane expertly moved her to a darkened corner away from both. A spicy scented cinnamon candle illuminated the small table for two. He set down his plate. “May I get you a glass of wine?”

She really shouldn’t drink more, but wine would go nicely with halibut. “That would be great. Chardonnay, please.”

A waitress approached them.

“Chardonnay for the angel and I’ll have a Bud.”

Carly unfurled her blue linen napkin and smoothed it on her lap. She must remain polite, but professional. This wasn’t a date, it was an interview. Nothing more. But it was hard to remember with the way his forearm bunched when he fisted his hands and gazed at her with intensity from behind that mask. She wasn’t immune to the aura that was Dane Forrester.

How she’d managed to maneuver him into this position after all she’d heard about how difficult he could be was completely unknown to her, but why question it? For once in her life, she’d been given a break. Time to run with it.

E
THAN SHOULD HAVE STAYED
in his room like he’d planned, but guilt wore him down. He’d have to maneuver around Carly’s questions because he’d given her his word. He wasn’t backing out of a deal.

They both ate in silence for a time.

The waitress returned with their wine and beer.

“So tell me about your family.” She bit down on a steamed carrot and twirled her fork in the air. “I read you have three older brothers and a younger sister. Is that correct?”

Ethan sliced into his prime rib before he answered. How was he going to manage to talk about Dane in the first person? Or himself in the third person? This was crazy. “Yes.”

“And what are their names and what kind of work do they do?” Carly prompted him.

Just stick to the facts, no extra information needed. “Fiona, my sister, she’s a student at Alaska State in Fairbanks. My brothers and I own a fly-in fishing and hunting lodge in Gold Creek. It’s about an hour-long flight north of town. Zak, the oldest, runs the day-to-day operations of the lodge. Ethan, the second oldest, coordinates the outdoor activities available for our clients who stay at the lodge: snow machining in the winter, hunting trips in the fall, fishing in the summer. He’s also a volunteer fireman. Travis is a pilot and owns his own air taxi operation. My mom lives in Fairbanks.”

Carly nodded and gazed at him with intensity from behind the mask that partially covered her eyes. “Have you always lived in Alaska?”