Northern Escape (6 page)

“You travel all the time?”

“A fair amount. I'm gone at least a week out of every month.”

“Doesn't that make it difficult to have any kind of stable life? A girlfriend or a pet? And that's not a criticism, just a question.”

“True enough, I don't have any pets but I get home often enough to my folks. They've got the whole shmeal. Corky, a West Highland terrier, is the family dog. Gabbie is the cat who allows us to fawn over her. My mother has a cockatiel, Albert, more commonly known as Big Al because he never shuts up. My brother and two sisters and their families live within a block of my parents and
my apartment's close by. My nieces and nephews have ferrets, hamsters, cats, dogs and fish. Trust me, it's a veritable zoo.”

Wistfulness tugged at her. She'd always wanted to be part of a big family. Perhaps that was just the grass always being greener on the other side for an only child. And anyway, now in Good Riddance she had one huge extended family in the town itself. But that wasn't exactly what she'd been asking about. “You definitely have pets at your disposal, even if you don't own one yourself.”

He grinned. “Were you trying to find out if I have a significant other?”

God he was brash and bold…and utterly charming.

“Maybe I was.” Gus had almost forgotten how delicious it was to flirt with a man, even one who could give her away if he blogged about her.

“No significant other. A couple of years ago I had girlfriend and things were getting fairly serious and then she wanted me to quit my job. She didn't like the travel.” He shrugged. “She told me it was the job or her and we see what decision I made. It was a good decision.” Gus was most inappropriately relieved he didn't seem to still be carrying a torch for the woman from his past. “Any close calls on your part?”

Gus aimed for a casual shrug. She'd found sticking as close to the truth without giving too much detail sufficed. “I was engaged once. It didn't work out and that was a good decision, too.”
That
qualified as the understatement of the year.

“Before you moved here?”

She turned back to the stove, away from the curiosity in his eyes. “Yes.” She
would not
think about Troy now or that time.

He rounded the island to stand behind her, peering over her shoulder into the pot, inhaling. “Smells good.” His shoulder lightly grazed hers and she quivered inside at the brief contact. “Well,” he said, his breath stirring against her hair, “considering the ratio of men to women in Alaska, you can certainly pick and choose.”

How was she supposed to think with him so close? Thank God, he took a step back. Her hand slightly unsteady, Gus dipped her spoon into the soup pot to taste test. She managed to cobble together a semi-coherent answer. “The problem with living in a town this size is that dating someone is a lot like dating someone at work. If things don't work out, then you still see them all the time and it can get really sticky.”

She sipped at the spoon. Something wasn't quite right in the balance. She grabbed a clean spoon and handed it to Nick. “Tell me what you think.”

“You really want my opinion?” He looked as if she'd just awarded him a prize.

“You seem to know your way around a kitchen.”

He took the spoon from her and continued their conversation. “Then you know the solution to dating someone in town, don't you?”

“Enlighten me.”

He tasted and paused. “Maybe a little more oregano?”

She nodded. That had been her take, as well.

Nick leaned against the prep counter, crossing his
arms over his chest, heart-thumpingly close. “If it's too sticky to date the locals, you find someone who's just passing through.” His voice was low, soft and seductive, and his gaze seemed to devour her mouth. They'd gone from simmer to sear in about sixty seconds.

“I'll keep that in mind—” she paused deliberately “—if anyone passing through ever strikes my fancy.”

N
ICK HAD THOROUGHLY ENJOYED
himself. Merrilee had spent the evening waitressing while Nick had helped in the kitchen, and he and Bull had both worked the bar. Nick liked the mix of music, laughter and conversation all combined with the scents of good food. Even though he'd resented spending all of his summers and holidays working at his folks' diner, this reminded him it had also been damn good fun.

The whole place was buzzing with excitement over the late-afternoon fireworks, which had followed Merrilee's welcoming speech and kicked off the Chrismoose Festival and the upcoming competitions, and he'd met some real characters. It was just the kind of thing that offered the opportunity for him to gather great blog material—far better than if he'd just been sitting out at a table. Clint dropped by to tell him the pageant decorating committee could always use an extra pair of hands. Nick had said he'd be there. Working behind the scenes like that inevitably resulted in good info.

A little before ten, Gus walked over to the light switch
and flicked it off and on a couple of times. “Last call,” she said to Nick with a smile. “It's better than yelling it.”

Amazingly, within ten minutes the last customer had settled their bill and Gus locked the front door behind them. Nick watched Gus as she crossed the room. It had been a pleasure to watch her work in the kitchen. There was a passion and intensity to her when she was practicing her craft that he loved to see. It was as if behind a pot or pan, she lost that distance, that guardedness with which she seemed to surround herself. Gus unplugged.

Now a small frown creased her forehead when she looked at Merrilee.

“Thank you all for the help tonight. I couldn't have done it without you.” Gus caught Bull's eye and gave him a look behind Merrilee's back that said
she's exhausted, take her home and put her to bed
. The older woman did look tired. Gus took Merrilee by the arm, heading toward the airstrip office door. “Goodnight, Bull and Merrilee, and thanks again,” Gus said.

“But you've still got to clean up—”

Gus shook her head. “You helped last night. You look exhausted—”

“Thanks a bunch,” Merrilee said.

“You're welcome because you do. Go.” Gus stopped at the door and hugged the other woman. “Thank you for everything. You're a lifesaver.”

“Are you sure—” Merrilee all but nodded in Nick's direction while he unabashedly watched the byplay. The two women were undeniably close although there
wasn't a whit of family resemblance between the two of them.

“I'm sure. Say good night, Merrilee.”

“Good night, Merrilee,” she parroted. Nick chuckled.

Merrilee added, “Good night, Nick.” Her look, however, said
Buddy, you'd better watch yourself
.

“'Night,” Bull said, giving Gus a nod that said he'd take over from here.

“Good night,” Nick said.

The door closed behind her and Gus turned back to face him. Alone. Finally.

“Thanks again for your help tonight,” she said. He had the impression she was thanking him again simply to have something to say now that it was just the two of them. He was glad she seemed as disconcerted by him as he was by her.

He walked back toward the kitchen. “I had a good time. Fill me in on your closing routine and I'll do Teddy's part.”

“That's not necessary.”

There was no way in hell he'd leave her to clean the entire place by herself. “I know it's not necessary but I don't do anything by half measures. If I'm filling in for Teddy, I'm doing what she'd normally do.”

She glanced back at him over her shoulder as she pulled cleaning supplies out of a small closet, amusement lighting her gray eyes, the customary shadows he'd noticed there gone. “Do you always get your way?”

“Not always, but often enough.”

“Often enough for what?”

“To get used to getting my way when it's something I really want.”

And he wanted her.

 

S
HAKING HER HEAD,
she passed him a bucket, rag and disinfectant. “Fine then. You wipe down tables and stack the chair. I'll finish the kitchen and push the broom.”

They worked quickly and efficiently, a comfortable silence settling between them. There remained however, a hum of awareness between both of them that was always there, that had been there from the beginning and that had gathered momentum throughout the night.

When they finished, Gus planted her hands on her hips and looked around as if amazed. “I have to say you're fast.”

He crossed the room, letting her see the intent in his eyes, giving her the opportunity to retreat. “Sometimes you've got to move fast or an opportunity passes.”

She stood her ground as he approached. “Is that a fact?”

“It is.” He stopped in front of her, close enough to smell her scent, but not so close as to crowd her. He felt knotted up inside simply being this near her. “Now, I have a question for you. Since you're officially off work, would you like to go on a date with me?”

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise, accentuating the faint tilt at the corners. “Go on a date with you?”

“Sure. I've only got a couple of days here so I don't have any time to waste.”

Her look was a mixture of wariness, amusement and banked heat. “What are we going to do on this date?”

“Get to know one another.” He wanted to kiss her almost as much as he wanted his next breath, maybe more. “I happen to have the inside track on a great place in town that might run after hours. I was thinking a glass of wine and—” he nodded toward the silent jukebox “—maybe a dance or two.”

She looked away, making it impossible to read her eyes. “And you were thinking when?” Her expression revealed very little. He had no idea whether she thought he was a total fool or not.

“Maybe half an hour. I'd like to change out of my work clothes.”

A slow, sensual smile that sent his pulse into overdrive tilted the corners of her lovely mouth. “Forty-five minutes.”

Hell, he'd wait an hour as long as it meant she'd show up. “Meet me at the bar?”

A sweet promise flickered in the depths of her eyes. “It's a date.”

 

S
HE'D LOST HER MIND.
Obviously. Unequivocally. And she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this alive and this energized. God knows, he was the last man she should want and God help her he was the only man she'd wanted in a long, long time.

Gus stripped out of her work clothes in double time and hopped in the shower. A date. She had a date. She laughed aloud at the sheer elegant lunacy of it. She had a date in her own restaurant after hours in the middle of the Alaskan bush with a man who had the potential to destroy everything she'd carefully built in the last four
years. A man she'd barely known twenty-four hours. But Nick was no stranger to her. Spending time with him, working with him tonight… She was fairly certain he was the man she'd glimpsed in his writing.

Gus toweled off and dove under the counter in her bathroom. Somewhere…she had…where had she put it…had it gone bad…ah, there it was. She opened the perfume. Nope. It hadn't gone bad at all. She spritzed it behind her ears and, for good measure, down her cleavage. Making short work of the hair and makeup routine, she walked over to her closet.

Every day in Good Riddance was pretty much more of the same—dark slacks and the shirt du jour. But not tonight. She dug into the back of the closet, past the clothes that had served her well enough for the past four years. Yep, there it was, buried in the back, the quintessential little black dress. She hesitated, her hand on the hanger. The last time she'd worn it, she'd attended a function with Troy.

Squaring her shoulders, she determinedly pulled it off the hanger. She wouldn't let Troy keep her from wearing a dress she liked, just as she'd no longer let Troy keep her from going on a date. She tugged the black jersey and spandex over her head. It still fit like a glove. She turned and twisted in front of the mirror…actually, it fit better than it used to. She slipped on simple jewelry and a pair of low-heeled black shoes she hadn't worn since she'd worn the dress.

Downstairs the door creaked open between her place and the airstrip office. When the restaurant was open,
with all the noise, you couldn't really hear it, but when it was quiet like this, there was no missing it.

She took one final look in the mirror, touched up her lipstick, drew a deep breath and stepped out into the hallway. She opened the door separating her apartment from the stairwell leading to the restaurant and bar. Her knees felt kind of shaky as she went down the stairs.

She stepped into the restaurant. Nick stood over by the bar. The lights were low, since she'd closed. In the corner, the lights twinkled on the Christmas tree that stood between the front door and the booths lining the wall overlooking Main Street.

He looked across the room and literally froze on the spot. “Oh…wow. You are breathtaking.” There was no faking the note of awe in his voice.

Her heart, which was already racing, really went into overdrive. “Thank you. You don't clean up too badly yourself.” He'd traded in his jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt for a pair of dress slacks and a button-down shirt.

He laughed, perhaps a tad self-consciously. “I learned a long time ago, you include one good outfit because you just never know what occasion might come up. So…maybe this is a little strange considering it's your place, but I was bartending earlier tonight and I'm serving you now. I've started a tab so what would you like? Oh, and where did you want to sit?”

It was all so wacky and kind of crazy and she loved it. “How about at the bar?”

“Perfect,” he said. His look proclaimed he found her perfect, as well.

Her knees slightly unsteady, Gus slid onto the bar stool.

“And what type of libation can I serve you, mademoiselle?”

“I'll have a glass of the uncorked pinot noir.”

“Coming right up.”

He poured two glasses and joined her at the bar, slipping onto the stool next to hers. Part of her wished he'd left an empty stool between them, a little space. However, the rest of her was glad he was close. Although they weren't touching, she could almost feel his body heat, feel his energy mingling with hers. For a second his eyes caught and held hers and it was as if everything stilled. “Thank you,” he said softly, all traces of his earlier banter gone, “for agreeing to come out with me tonight.”

“I'm glad you asked.” And she was, she realized. It was wonderful to feel this sense of anticipation, to feel like a woman.

His gaze searched hers. “Are you?”

It was pointless to pretend otherwise or play some coy game when he was only here for such a short time. “Yes.”

He raised his glass. “To tonight.”

“To tonight,” she repeated, clinking her glass against his and then sipping. For Gus, that toast brimmed with significance. For tonight, she was putting the past firmly behind her, where it belonged. Tonight was about tonight.

“How about helping me deejay,” he said. He stood. “Come on, let's pick out some music on the jukebox.”

“Okay,” she said, happy to go along with his suggestion. They stood in front of the jukebox, shoulder to shoulder. His scent, one of man, fresh soap and the faint scent of starch clinging to his shirt, was delicious. He braced one hand on the jukebox. She'd noticed his hands in the kitchen earlier—lean, well-shaped with long fingers and short, blunt nails. They went with the rest of him.

He fed a couple of dollars into the jukebox. “Okay, let's make some selections.”

“Do you know how long this thing will play with that much money in there?”

“I'm hoping for a long date,” he said, his voice teasing but his eyes serious. So was she. This was like a sweet, sweet dream she hadn't dared to dream. He scanned the playlist. “You've got quite a range of music here.”

“Nelson's responsible for the selection. When he started as karaoke emcee, he put himself in charge of the jukebox content, which was fine with me.” It was an eclectic range from Patsy Cline to Dean Martin.

Gus selected a Frank Sinatra number and Nick slanted her a glance. “You're a fan? He's one of my favorites.”

“A boy from New York?”

His grin was straight-up boyish. “Absolutely.”

They split the number of selections and went back to the bar, Nick guiding her lightly with his fingertips in the small of her back, which radiated heat throughout her. His touch proved as potent as she'd ever thought it might be.

Gus sipped at her wine and the conversation gravitated toward music. It turned out they shared similar
musical tastes and had seen some of the same performers at New York venues.

One glass of wine turned into two and the conversation turned to books and movies and food and life in general. Gus found herself laughing and being laughed with. Nick seemed as entertained by her as she was by him and they had an astonishing amount in common. The things they didn't have in common remained a point of interest to Gus.

One of Gus's favorite Sinatra songs came up on the jukebox. Nick held out a hand. “Dance with me?”

She didn't hesitate. She didn't think twice. She put her hand in his. “I'd love to.”

Maybe it was the man, perhaps it was the music, and two glasses of wine at the end of a long day probably didn't hurt, but Gus felt as if her feet weren't even touching the ground.

Held in his arms, against his warmth, his heart beating beneath her cheek, she seemed to float over the wood floor she'd trod uncountable times in the past four years.

The song ended and they stopped, standing still in the middle of the room. He leaned his forehead against hers, his warm breath gusting against her mouth. “Thank you for coming out with me tonight.”