“Let’s just say I have a weakness for babies.”

Ike turned to look at Marta with unabashed surprise. But it wasn’t in her nature to stand idly by when someone needed help, and there had to be some decency in Ike, since he was so willing to take in his sister’s child.

“And I also have a weakness for people who are willing to take on responsibilities,” she added.

“Is that the way to your heart?”

“Leave my heart out of this.” She didn’t want him misunderstanding her motive for doing this. “Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it.” Ike said. “I never look a gift horse in the mouth. That goes double for a beautiful angel of mercy.”

Stand-In Mom
Marie Ferrarella

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Alan Malunao, Jr.,

who would never have moved to Alaska,

even on a bet

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter One

“Oh, my God, Sydney, just look at you!”

There was very little that could catch Marta Jensen off guard. Until this moment, she would have felt safe in saying that after teaching overenergized nine-year-olds for the last three years at Alderwood School, there was nothing that could surprise her enough to cause her mouth to drop open like a slow-witted cartoon character.

But seeing her best friend since college in her seventh month of pregnancy, looking as if she’d swallowed not one but possibly two beach balls, negated that. Marta stared, in wonder and in glee, all without consciously being aware that she was doing it.

The carry-on suitcase she’d toted down with her slipped from Marta’s fingers, landing with a thud on the floor and just barely missing contact with her toes, as she flung her arms around Sydney Elliot.

Sydney Kerrigan now, Marta mentally amended, blinking back tears of pure delight and joy, something else she hadn’t thought she was capable of. But she’d missed this dear, wonderful friend, missed her with a passion she seldom allowed herself to feel. It had been much too long since she had seen her.

And was there a lot to see now, she thought, as Sydney’s belly pressed against her in a hug.

“Sydney, wow,” was all she could manage. It was one thing to intellectually know that Sydney was pregnant; it was another to see it for herself. Sydney had sent long, glowing letters about her life and her condition, but nothing took the place of actually seeing her best friend rounded out with child.

Marta sucked in her breath as Sydney’s baby gave her a swift kick.

Laughing, sniffling, Marta stood back just enough to get another look at Sydney. Amazement hung on tenaciously. Sydney, pregnant. Sydney, a mother.

Well, she was already that, Marta reminded herself, thanks to the two children Shayne and his late wife had had. But still, it was going to take an awful lot of getting used to for her.

Marta kept her hands laced through both of Sydney’s, as if afraid that if she lost that contact, Sydney would just disappear. She’d missed her a great deal this last year, so much more than even she would have thought. Outwardly gregarious, Marta had learned long ago not to make any attachments. Too many people had come and gone from her life.

But Sydney had been different. Sydney had been like the sister she’d always wanted. The family she’d never had. That was why she’d abruptly decided to make use of the break that the year-round school where she taught, with its eight-weeks-on, two-weeks-off schedule offered, conquer her fear of flying and come out to see Sydney. She hadn’t quite managed to conquer the fear, but seeing Sydney had been worth enduring the unsettling, panicky feeling that had accompanied her all the way from Omaha.

It was still hard for her to assimilate. Marta had only recently gotten herself to believe and accept that over a year ago solid, steadfast Sydney had actually uprooted her life, sold off most of her possessions and come out to Alaska. To a town that could easily have fit into any corner of any one of Omaha’s myriad of neighborhoods, and done it with room to spare. And now she was the wife and assistant of the only doctor for a hundred miles.

Maybe it shouldn’t be so hard to assimilate, Marta mused. A year ago Sydney had made up her mind to start a new life somewhere else, and Sydney had always known what she wanted.

Sydney had always had purpose, direction. Unlike me, Marta thought ruefully.

Her eyes swept over her friend. Nearly seven months pregnant, Sydney carried her unborn child with the same grace that she carried herself. Tears persisted in gathering, smarting Marta’s eyes.

This was silly. Tears were for sadness, and this was a happy time. Marta blinked them away and shook her head in wonder. “I’m sorry, I still can’t believe you’re pregnant.”

Sydney laughed. “What, that kick didn’t convince you?” Slipping one hand from Marta’s, Sydney placed it over her swollen belly. “Whoever is in there is going to be born alert and running. I’ve got enough activity going on inside me for two babies.”

Marta grasped Sydney’s hand again, her eyes wide. “You’re not carrying—”

“No.” The denial was quick, firm and accompanied with just a slight shudder. “Shayne says there’s only one unruly occupant in there.” Grinning at the chilling, mixed blessing of a multiple birth, Sydney rolled her eyes. “Please, I’ve got my hands full with Sara and Mac. Two new babies would be more than I think I could sanely handle.”

Sydney always underestimated herself, Marta thought. She was thoroughly convinced that Sydney could handle anything that life threw her way. Sydney had already proved that twice over, bouncing back from not one failed relationship, but two.

Too bad bouncing back wasn’t contagious, Marta thought before firmly dismissing the subject. She was here to enjoy her visit with Sydney, however brief, to catch up on Sydney’s life here, not dwell on her own past.

“That’s why I’m here,” Marta reminded her. “To help you ‘handle’ as much as I can in the next two weeks. And now that I’ve made my maiden flight, I’ll be back the very next vacation.” Marta smiled down at the swell of Sydney’s belly. “To be here when you give birth to that bundle you’re carting around—or shortly thereafter.”

Sydney had never asked Marta outright to come to Alaska—only said how much she wished her friend could be here and see the place for herself. Marta had never before been off the ground, choosing to take any overland route available to where she wanted to go. Sydney knew what making this trip had cost Marta and was grateful beyond words that she had come. She couldn’t imagine anyone she would have wanted in her corner more than Marta—with the exception of Shayne.

It had been a little over a year since she had last seen Marta. Then they had parted with Marta’s reluctant good wishes ringing in her ears and Marta’s dubious expression imprinted on her mind. Sydney knew that Marta had expected her to return to Omaha on the very next flight. When things abruptly turned sour on her, she almost had. But refusing to be defeated by the disappointment she’d initially discovered, Sydney had dug in and stayed.

Now, she was eternally grateful that she hadn’t turned around and come back to what had then been home to her. Glad that she’d remained here to make a life for herself.

Several lives, she amended silently, affection filling her as she passed her hand over her belly and thought of the child she and Shayne had created. And of the children they would create in the future. It was a good life. A life that she knew Marta would love if only she gave it half a chance.

She meant to try to convince her of that every opportunity she found. More than anyone, Marta deserved to finally be happy.

But first things first. Marta had to get settled in, Sydney thought. Then she could begin working on her.

The taller of the two, Sydney slipped an arm around Marta’s shoulders. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you finally decided to bite the bullet and come out here.”

Marta curved her mouth—a generous mouth for a woman whose other features were so delicate—in amusement. “A little healthy panic never hurt anyone, I guess. Besides, I couldn’t stand not being able to see you like this for myself, at least once.”

Excited over seeing Marta again, Sydney had completely forgotten about the man who had accompanied her in the Cessna on the trip over here—until he cleared his throat. Loudly and with amusement.

Sydney flushed warmly as she turned toward him. His easygoing smile only made her feel worse for the oversight. “Where are my manners? Marta, this is—”

Marta held her hand up, stopping Sydney’s introduction in mid-sentence. Though leery of good-looking men the way only a woman who has been badly burned could be, she still had never been slow in appreciating the sight of one. And this one was good-looking with a capital G-L. Tall, and obviously muscular beneath the unzipped parka he had on, he had an olive complexion and cheekbones that could set the rhythm of a woman’s heart off by several beats. There was no question in Marta’s mind that the man with jet-black hair standing behind Sydney was nothing short of drop-dead gorgeous.

Just as Sydney had told her he would be.

“Yes, I know who he is.” Marta moved forward, throwing her arms around the man who looked a little surprised, as well as faintly amused, at her declaration. She liked the way he smiled. Damn, but Sydney was lucky. “Sydney said you’d be the most devastatingly handsome man at the airport.”

Momentarily overcome with emotion, Marta hugged just a tad harder. Sydney looked happy, and her letters had fairly sung of contentment. Any man who could do that for her best friend earned Marta’s unqualified affection and gratitude. “I thought she was exaggerating, but it looks like for once in her life, Sydney was making an understatement.”

On her toes, Marta gave Sydney’s companion what she felt was an appropriate, friendly kiss in greeting, her enthusiasm and happiness getting the better of her.

That Ike LeBlanc was surprised to have a petite, attractive redhead all but wrap herself around him within five minutes of their first meeting was putting it mildly. That this same woman then went on to kiss him with enthusiasm only compounded that surprise.

But Ike was never one to be caught off guard for more than a single heartbeat. Responding to stimuli faster than any clinical biochemist could ever have prayed for, Ike wrapped his arms around the woman’s trim, tempting frame and hugged her with the same enthusiasm she had displayed.

He returned not only the hug, but the kiss as well. With verve. If she was going to catch him in a lip lock, then he damn well was going to make it worth both their whiles.

With a barely perceptible sound of pleasure escaping, Ike tightened his embrace and deepened the kiss that God and this woman had chosen to bestow on him. Deepened it and felt his blood warming to an incredible, tantalizing degree. With the shortage of women in not only Hades, but in Alaska itself, he didn’t get to do this nearly as often as he would have liked. He was not about to throw the opportunity away.

For the briefest of seconds, Marta’s head swirled and her pulse throbbed, as her very skin heated to the temperature of a much sought-after hot springs in this February wilderness. Her body melted in response, and had begun molding against his when her brain finally caught up to the rest of her, issuing orders like a strict commandant. She reeled in sheer horror, disgust and embarrassment.

What was going on here? This was Sydney’s husband for heaven’s sake, and he was kissing her as if they had been intimate with one another all their lives.

What was even worse was that she had just kissed him back.

Appalled, Marta wedged her hands up against the man’s chest, shoving him away as hard as she could to break contact.

Coming up for air, Marta felt her jaw slacken as, for the second time in a matter of minutes, her mouth dropped open in overwhelmed surprise. The power of speech was temporarily and completely beyond her grasp. She could only stare at the man who had just effectively destroyed her cherished belief that no matter what, time moved relentlessly forward. It hadn’t moved on. For one tiny moment there, it had stood perfectly still, content to linger and hear nothing but the pounding of her heart and the soft sound made by her knees as they dissolved.

Chagrined and heartbroken for Sydney, as well as furious with this man who didn’t deserve to be her husband, Marta searched vainly for her tongue. She would have slapped him with all her might if Sydney hadn’t been standing right there, watching.

And how could she be standing there, watching, when her husband had all but seduced her best friend in a crowded airport?

Questions, oaths and outrage all scrambled through her mind. Marta swung around to face Sydney, apologies mingling with denouncements pulsating in her brain.

To her overwhelming surprise, Sydney looked completely unfazed. Maybe even a little amused and pleased. What was the matter with her? Had the overwhelmingly cold weather frozen her brain and snapped her brittle self-respect? Sydney’s husband was in the same shameful category as Alex Kelley had been.

“Sydney, don’t you mind?” Marta cried in dazed wonder.

The question struck Sydney as odd. “Why should I mind? Unless, of course, you didn’t like it.”

Although, Sydney thought, that hardly seemed likely. In the time she’d been here, Sydney had never met a single woman who complained about being kissed by Ike LeBlanc. Complained about not being kissed by Ike was more like it. Ike, with his dark good looks and his warm, sexy smile was what every woman’s dreams were made of. With the affection of an indulgent sister, Sydney was very surprised it hadn’t gone to his head. But sexy or not, Ike was well grounded, which was what made him so likable. And what made him Ike.

“Unless I didn’t like it?” Marta repeated dumbly.

“Did you?” Ike asked as he looked at Marta, mildly amused by the strangely disoriented expression on her face. She wasn’t alone in feeling that way. He had to admit that Sydney’s friend had managed to scramble more than one circuit on his motherboard with her kiss. Sweet and almost seductively submissive, the kiss had knocked him for a loop.

That rarely happened.

The lady bore scrutiny. A great deal of close scrutiny, he promised himself.

“No, I didn’t,” Marta said, squaring her shoulders. It was a bald-faced lie, but it was the only admission he was going to get out of her, the monster. What was he looking for, accolades? With his wife, ripe with his baby, standing almost at his elbow? Her eyes narrowed, shooting daggers at him. “And that’s not the point!”

Confused, Sydney and Ike exchanged looks. Sydney raised a single shoulder, then let it fall, silently letting him know that she had no more clue as to what was going on than he did.

She looked at Marta, completely bewildered. She knew all about Marta’s one failed, traumatic venture into love. Knew, too, that Marta’s heart, so eager to love, had been repeatedly bruised during her childhood when she had been passed around from one foster home to another. She’d had more than enough to overcome.

Had something else happened in the last year that Marta hadn’t written to her about? “What is the point, Marta?” Sydney asked.

“The point—” Marta felt as if she were strangling on her anger. She huffed, then began again. “The point is that your husband kissed me as if…as if…” She couldn’t find the words to define what had just happened here. “Well, he just kissed me.” Anyone with eyes could have seen just how.

Sydney looked around, half expecting to see Shayne appear. But that wasn’t possible. Still, Marta looked deadly serious.

“Shayne? When?”

Marta threw up her hands, exasperated. Was Sydney blind?

“Now.” She waved a disparaging hand at Ike. “Here.” For heaven’s sake, Sydney had been looking straight at her, at them, when it happened.

It was only then that Sydney grinned again, understanding flooding through her. Grinned while Ike laughed. The only one not in on the joke was Marta. But by the way Sydney was looking at Ike, she was definitely getting an inkling.

In a voice that was deadly still and steely, she asked, “You’re not Shayne?” knowing the answer before he said a word.

Searching for breath, unable to form a word yet, Ike could only shake his head in reply. No wonder she’d looked so upset. She thought her best friend’s husband was hitting on her. The very thought of Shayne ever doing anything remotely improper was utterly amusing to Ike. Shayne was as good as they came. The man would die as soon as look at another woman in anything but a professional capacity. His heaven began and ended with Sydney, and Ike envied his friend more than a little. It was something he’d never experienced himself.

“I’m sorry, Marta.” Sydney struggled to catch her breath. The last thing she wanted was for Marta to think she was laughing at her. “This is my fault. I never sent you photographs of Shayne. The ones from the wedding were lost,” she explained with a trace of sorrow, “and I never got around to getting a new camera after the moose stepped on mine. Long story,” she added quickly in response to the questioning look on Marta’s face. She placed a hand on Marta’s shoulder, silently entreating her not to be angry. “I’m really sorry. I guess when you saw him with me—”

Tactfully, Sydney avoided referring to Marta’s comment about Ike’s looks. And when you came right down to it, she thought, Ike and Shayne did look a great deal alike. Both men were tall, both had dark hair—although Ike’s was darker—and both were as handsome as any woman could pray for. She could see why Marta had made the mistake.

“I just assumed he was Shayne,” Marta concluded for Sydney.

That still didn’t excuse the man for kissing a stranger as if she were his long-lost love, Marta thought ruefully. Her body temperature still hadn’t returned to normal. But now it was annoyance, rather than any physical response, that was the cause.

Turning, Marta stood waiting for enlightenment. “Who are you, anyway?”

“A very blessed errand boy, darlin’.” With a flourish, Ike bowed grandly. The engaging grin he flashed shot straight into her like a bulb exploding in a dark room when the light switch was first thrown.

“Shayne couldn’t make it,” Sydney explained quickly. “He had a medical emergency at the last minute, and he absolutely didn’t want me flying alone.”

There’d been no choice, really. Shayne was at the Inuit village, taking care of their housekeeper’s youngest grandson, who had suddenly come down with pneumonia. That was the only reason he’d reluctantly allowed her to fly to Anchorage instead of piloting the plane himself. Sydney was the only other pilot in the area—thanks to his lessons—and there was no way she could come to meet Marta’s plane if she didn’t fly in herself. There was also no way she would have allowed Marta to land without someone being there to meet her. As it was, she and Ike had been late in arriving because of unexpected turbulence.

“Marta, this is Klondyke LeBlanc, Shayne’s best friend and owner of the Salty Saloon,” Sydney added. “He was kind enough to fill in for Shayne and come with me to the airport.”

“Part owner,” Ike amended. The other half belonged to his cousin, Jean Luc, who had been dragged into the business venture almost against his will. But Ike had thought it a sound investment, the first of several eventually, and he had wanted Luc to share in the profits. And the future.

As if they hadn’t just kissed with more passion than propriety only moments earlier, Ike politely held out his hand to Marta. “My friends all call me Ike.”

Her lips forming a reproving frown, Marta placed her hand in his with all the feeling of a woman coming in contact with a reptile. A poisonous one at that. The last thing she wanted right now was a new friend whose kisses tasted like sin served up on a silver platter. There was already far too much on that platter for her to deal with at the moment without adding another complication.

Marta inclined her head, distant but polite. “Hello, Mr. LeBlanc.”

He read her message loud and clear. But living in Hades all his life, Ike had never been one to be intimidated by frost.

“Oh, don’t be that way, darlin’. After all, you were the one who kissed me—at least at first,” he added gallantly. His brown eyes were fairly shining with unsuppressed amusement. “I just enjoyed the ride. Can’t fault a man for that.”

Her eyes briefly locked with his.

“Yes,” Marta replied mildly, showing no emotion whatsoever, “I can.”

Sydney wasn’t fooled. She knew that beneath Marta’s polite exterior, her best friend was seething. This was not an auspicious beginning, but there definitely was hope. Sydney had her work cut out for her. She threaded her arm through Marta’s and looked over her shoulder at Ike.

“Why don’t you see about getting Marta’s luggage for her, Ike?” She nodded toward the luggage carousel, by now completely depleted except for two suitcases she recognized as Marta’s. “Don’t worry,” she assured Ike with a smile that was nothing short of conspiratorial. “Marta could never hold a grudge.”

Marta merely smiled. Oh, yes, she could, Marta thought, if she was humiliated. She hadn’t come out here to deal with some strange man, especially a good-looking, unattached Don Juan.

“You’ve been away for a year,” Marta reminded Sydney, her smile enigmatic.

Time made no difference. Sydney knew Marta’s heart.

“Some things,” Sydney allowed with confidence, “never change.”

And other things, Marta thought, unconsciously glancing back at Ike and his wide grin, did.

Chapter Two

“You look a little pale, darlin’,” Ike said, frowning. Flying was second nature to him, but obviously not to the woman all but nestled beside him in the tight space that comprised the Cessna’s back seat, her face whiter than the pristine snow that lay several thousand feet below them—and growing steadily whiter. Her breathing was beginning to sound shallow.

He wondered if she was claustrophobic. Ike remembered seeing the same pallid color on his uncle, who had been claustrophobic. After being trapped in a cave-in at the mine, the man had never been quite right in his head until the day he died.

Following his instincts, Ike reached for Marta’s hand and took it in his. Jerking, she turned away from the window she’d just glanced out of and looked at him. Her eyes were wide and a little wild, but mostly they were accusing. He covered the hand he held with his other one.

Marta pulled her hand away from him. Fighting for composure, she took a shaky breath. It didn’t help. The plane’s rattling noise sounded like a death knell. Knees locked, Marta moved forward on her seat, her eyes fastened to Sydney’s profile. How could she look so calm? Couldn’t she hear the noise? Or could that horrible sound possibly be normal?

She fervently prayed that it was.

“No offense, Sydney, but are you sure that this thing is going to be able to hold together long enough to get us back to your place?”

She’d been horrified when she first saw the plane and was reminded that there was no other way to reach Hades this time of year. But she had tried her best to appear unfazed by the ordeal she faced.

Being engulfed by the ordeal was another matter.

Momentarily turning from the view of the perfect sky before her, Sydney flashed Marta an encouraging smile. Poor Marta. She could remember her own first reaction to Shayne’s plane. She’d been sure they were going to die before she ever got to Hades. But the plane, for all its unique noises, was as sound as the little foreign car Marta loved so well.

Sounder, Sydney was willing to bet. Shayne had just gone over it with a fine-tooth comb last weekend in one of those rare islands of time that usually eluded them. He’d pronounced the craft safe enough for her to use.

Which was good, because Sydney loved flying. To her it was like becoming one with the air—the closest thing to gliding through the clouds on her own power, unencumbered. It was a rather nice feeling these days, considering the weight she was carrying around when she walked.

“Don’t let the noise fool you,” she told Marta gently. For emphasis, Sydney patted the dashboard. “This is a very sturdy plane.”

“It sounds as if it’s about to rattle apart at any second.”

“All small planes have their own melody.” Sydney shifted back around in her seat. “Distract her, Ike.”

Now there was an instruction Ike would have loved to follow. But he seldom went where he wasn’t welcome, and Sydney’s friend did not look welcoming. Yet. “Much as I’d dearly love to comply, darlin’, I don’t think your friend wants to be distracted by me at the moment.”

If it hadn’t been for Alex messing up Marta’s life so badly, Sydney thought, mentally calling down curses on the other man’s unworthy head, Marta would have been more than receptive to Ike and his easygoing charm. It would do Marta a world of good to be around someone like Ike. Whether by a word, a look or something far more intimate, Ike had the gift of making women of all ages feel special.

But Alex Kelley had done a number on her friend, taking her heart and using it as a basketball to be played with anytime he was on home court. His faithfulness lasted as long as his attention span, which, as Sydney recalled, had never been very great. The breakup had happened shortly after she’d left Omaha. Sydney wished she could have been there for Marta. Despite everything, she knew how hard it must have been for her to end the two-year relationship, especially after investing so much of her heart in it.

Because of him, Marta had sworn off any and all men, which was a crying shame. Marta had a huge heart and a great deal of love to give. To the right man.

“Don’t worry about me, Sydney. I’m all right.”

Marta would sound far more convincing if her voice wasn’t shaking, Sydney thought. “We’ll be there before you know it,” she promised.

Too late for that, Marta thought nervously. She was trying very hard not to look down, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. The snow looked so soft, but it wouldn’t be if they fell out of the sky.

With the window on one side and Ike on the other, there was nowhere for her to look but straight ahead. At oblivion. That didn’t help, either.

Marta moistened her lips with the last bit of saliva she had. Her throat felt as if it were closing up. “Are you positive there isn’t any other way to get to Hades?”

“Positive.” It was Ike, the native, not Sydney, who answered. “At least, not in the winter.” It was one of the things that had driven so many people, including his own sister, Juneau, out of Hades. The isolation. “The snow blocks the roads for weeks at a time. We become our own little world out here.”

Marta shivered and looked at Sydney. “That kind of makes Shayne and you like Tarzan and Jane, except with snow.” Her cosmopolitan heart would get cabin fever within a week. “How can you stand that?”

Again it was Ike who answered her. “Oh, it has its advantages.” For instance, he knew he surely wouldn’t have minded being snowed in somewhere with the petite woman sharing the back seat with him.

What did it take to melt her down? he wondered. To turn that iciness she was displaying toward him into fire? If he knew his women—and he liked to think without any undue vanity that he did—there was a warm, quite possibly even passionate, woman somewhere beneath that No Trespassing sign she wore so boldly.

It was, he mused, definitely a challenge. One he wouldn’t mind taking on.

Ever since he could remember, Ike had always loved women. All women. In his opinion there was something of beauty to be found within every woman, no matter who. It just took the right man to find a way to bring that beauty out. He had no idea why he’d been blessed the way he had, but he found himself endowed with that ability—to make the most somber of women smile, to find their charms, hidden or otherwise, and make them aware of it. Grateful for it. Women always seemed to bloom around him, and he never bothered denying that he had a grand weakness for flowers.

But this flower was going to need a little cultivating, he thought as he silently studied her. She was going to require a little careful feeding to make her open up. She made him think of a blossom that had not been properly nurtured. Certainly not properly appreciated.

Ike made a mental note to ask Sydney a few pertinent questions about her friend at the first opportunity.

“Advantages?” Marta echoed in disbelief. What kind of advantages could there possibly be to being snowed in and cut off from everything? She ran her hands up along her arms, as if that would ward off the chill that went far deeper than any outside cold could create. “I don’t see how.” Knowing it had to sound critical, she still couldn’t help the question that rose to her lips. “How do you keep from going stir-crazy?”

Ike smiled broadly. His eyes took slow, languid measure of her, moving down her body like a warm breath. “Oh, there are ways to occupy yourself in Hades.”

It seemed impossible, given the temperature, but she felt herself growing warm. It was almost as if he were looking right through her heavy parka and the bulky sweater and jeans she wore beneath. Looking right at the red silk undergarments she had on.

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Trying her best to shut this man and his X-ray eyes out, Marta leaned forward in her seat again. “Are you sure you should be flying in your condition, Sydney?”

The question made Sydney smile broadly. Those had been Shayne’s exact words to her this morning. It had been the husband, not the doctor, who had asked them. She was right at the cut-off point, even though she’d declared that she was more than capable of making the run. Though she was accustomed to being independent, the concern that motivated Shayne had warmed her, reminding her just how much she loved the man fate had thrown into her life.

She glanced down at the steering wheel that was all but resting on her protruding belly.

“Right now, I’d say I can fly a lot better than I can walk,” Sydney said, sighing. “No one told me how badly I’d be listing when I reached my last couple of months.”

“You don’t list, darlin’, you just glide a little less swiftly, that’s all,” Ike assured Sydney with a soft laugh that seemed, at least to Marta, to seductively fill the small cabin. “But a hundred babies wouldn’t rob you of your grace, and you know it.”

Though she was trying vainly to ignore him, Marta couldn’t help looking at Ike, a bemused expression on her face. Her eyes shifted toward the back of Sydney’s head. “Does he talk like this all the time?”

“Most of it.” Sydney laughed. The man had a very special place in her heart. He had been the one not only to encourage her to stay, but to point out that Shayne was struggling very hard not to fall in love with her. If it hadn’t been for Ike, she might have moved back to Omaha and missed out on the very best portion of her life. “Isn’t he lovely?” She spared a glance in his direction. “Don’t know what I’d do without Ike sometimes.”

“Don’t tease me like that, darlin’,” he warned playfully, “or you’ll tempt me to do away with the best friend I ever had.” Hands on the back of the seat in front of him, Ike smiled warmly at Sydney. “If he ever stops paying you the attention you so richly deserve, you know where to come.”

Sydney’s laugh was short, amused. As if the man would ever betray a friend. She knew him far too well to ever believe that. If she ever did have a falling out with Shayne, Ike would be the first one there trying to talk them back together—and not giving up until they reconciled. “Big talk coming from a confirmed bachelor.”

“Oh, no, not confirmed.” He looked at Marta and winked. “Just waiting for the right woman to come along, that’s all.”

There was a great deal more to the story than that, Sydney thought. And even if there hadn’t been, she seriously doubted that Ike would give up the place of honor he held in all women’s hearts for a place of honor in the heart of just one.

Still, there might be a chance, she mused, catching a whiff of the light scent that Marta liked to put on before she donned a stitch of clothing.

The plane groaned like a keening woman in deep mourning. Marta felt that if she were any more rigid, she would snap like a frozen twig. “Is it much farther?”

“We’ll be there soon,” Sydney promised.

It couldn’t be soon enough for Marta.

Marta wasn’t aware of grasping his hand. To her, Ike’s hand was part of the armrest—until she felt his fingers close over hers. But her breath had completely escaped her lungs at that point, and there were no words with which to upbraid him or even to say a single scathing thing about his obstinately being too familiar with her.

Marta was sure this was going to be her last moment on earth, and she didn’t want to enter the next world with a curse on her lips.

God didn’t like it when you cursed.

For a little thing, she sure had a hell of a grip, Ike thought, feeling his fingers go numb. It was a bumpy landing as far as landings went, with a spate of unexpected tailwind turning on them at the very last minute. As the plane was being buffeted by the wind, coming in for the final leg of its journey, Ike was certain that Marta was going to pass out right where she sat.

But then, taking another look into her bright green eyes, he’d amended that. The woman looked like the type to spit in the devil’s eye rather than let him know she was afraid. He liked that. It showed character, and he was a great admirer of character.

When it looked as if she was going to snap off the armrest, he’d slipped his hand into hers again, knowing that she’d probably take his head off for it when she could talk again. But his desire to offer her a measure of comfort transcended any apprehension over words she might use to cut him down. He never liked to see someone in pain, physical or mental.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “Sydney’s never crashed a plane yet.”

“All it takes is once.” Marta didn’t know if she thought the words or said them out loud until she heard him laughing softly to himself.

Damn him anyway. She was descending into hell, and Don Juan was already with her.

“You can open your eyes now, we’ve landed,” he whispered to her.

She was aware of his warm breath along her face before she attempted to make any sense out of the words that were buzzing close to her ear. Her eyes flew open. Embarrassed, she stiffened, then quickly pulled her hand away from his.

He had to think she was an idiot. That made two of them.

Avoiding Ike’s eyes, Marta cleared her throat. “Sorry.”

His shrug was careless, easy. “Nothing to be sorry for. Not everyone likes to fly.”

He knew damn well what she was referring to. He was undoubtedly enjoying stringing this out. “I meant about squeezing your hand.”

Ike pretended to examine his hand for signs of wear. His grin was fast and lethal and took no prisoners. “Hardly felt it. Feel free to squeeze anything you like anytime you have the need.”

Color, quick and bright, flashed across her cheeks and face, working its way simultaneously to the roots of her dark red hair and down her throat. Marta could feel it, and by the look in his eyes knew that he could see it. She damned this one legacy from a mother she barely knew: translucent skin. It allowed her every emotion to be telegraphed so clearly. If she had skin his color—bronzed, she thought as if he had an intimate relationship with the elusive sun—no one would ever guess at what she was feeling.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. “I won’t be doing any squeezing.” And that, she figured, got her message across loud and clear. She was here to visit Sydney and her family. There was no room in her schedule for penciled-in recreational activities that involved egotistical men.

He glossed over her words. “Then I’ll be the poorer for it, darlin’.”

Seeing Sydney reaching for the door, Ike opened his own and jumped down into the snow. Rounding the nose of the plane quickly, he presented himself at her side by the time she’d opened the door, ready to assist her from the plane.

Amusement played across Sydney’s lips. “Looking to do a good deed?” she asked, as he carefully helped her from the plane. “Why don’t you help—” She didn’t have time to finish.

Disembarking from the plane, Marta found that her legs had suddenly transformed themselves from solid flesh and bone to rubbery oatmeal. She gasped as she found herself keeling over. Ike swung around and caught her before she fell face-first into the snow.

The feel of his arms, strong and sure, closing instantly around her, ignited Marta’s indignation. It also created a spark of something else within her that ultimately went to fuel her indignation even more. She didn’t like that hot, fast, upward spike she felt, didn’t like it at all.

With a toss of her head, she sent the hood of her parka slipping off to rest on her shoulders. Hair the color of flame at twilight began a hopeless duel with the wind that was picking up. It was the wind, not proximity, that snatched her breath away, she told herself. Like a reigning gypsy queen, she raised her head regally. “I’m perfectly capable of standing up on my own.”

Ike withdrew his hands, holding them aloft in the air like a man staring down the bore of a red-hot .44. “Anything you say, darlin’.”

But she wasn’t capable of standing up on her own. At least, not at the moment. Taking another step proved that. Feeling wobbly as well as chagrined, she threw her hand out and braced herself against the side of the Cessna. She regretted it instantly. The metal felt incredibly cold against her fingertips. She shoved her hand in her pocket, praying for the return of equilibrium.

In answer to her prayer, Ike took hold of her elbow as if he were escorting her onto the dance floor of her senior prom. “This happens sometimes with first-time flyers,” he assured her easily. From her pallor and her questions, he took it for granted that this was her first time in a plane this size. “It takes a second or two to get your land legs back.”

Grateful for the momentary respite, Marta tried to understand the strange feeling in her lower body. “I thought that was only with ships.”

He grinned again. She wished he’d stop that.

Ike patted the side of the plane. “This is a ship.” He glanced at Sydney, knowing that she agreed. “A ship of the air, and someday, when I have the time, this fine woman is going to teach me how to navigate it, aren’t you?”

Pulling her parka as close around her as she could, Sydney began to lead the way to her house. It was only three, but it was growing dark already. Though she loved it here, she’d be glad when summer was more than just a distant memory. “You’d be better off having Shayne teach you.”

Still holding firmly onto Marta’s elbow, he hooked his other arm through Sydney’s. He didn’t want to risk having her fall. “You’re underestimating yourself, darlin’. Besides—” his eyes danced “—you’re a lot lovelier to look at than Shayne ever was.”

Sydney knew it was just Ike’s way of talking. Flattery, plain and simple. But there were times when she loved the sound of it. With a shake of her head, she sighed. “How is it that Shayne never learned to talk like you?”

His laugh was deep and hearty. Momentarily letting go of Marta’s elbow, he raised his gloved finger to his lips.

“Sh, we don’t make fun of the slow-witted.” He took hold of Marta’s elbow again without even looking her way. “Besides, he’s the one you married, not me.”

“You never asked,” Sydney deadpanned.

It was his turn to sigh.

“I guess that makes me the slow-witted one then, doesn’t it?” And then he turned his dark eyes toward Marta, the movement so unexpected that it caught her completely off guard. As did the gleam she saw in those eyes. Marta felt as if she’d suddenly been put on notice. “Maybe the fates have decided to give me a second chance by bringing your friend to my doorstep.”

It took Marta a minute to rally, but rally she did. She’d been in this place before, on the receiving end of a charmer’s compliments. Roses with hidden thorns. She wasn’t about to get scratched again.

“I believe we’re approaching Sydney’s doorstep, not yours,” Marta said pointedly.

But rather than be put off the way she’d expected him to be, Ike merely nodded his approval as he glanced toward Sydney. “Beautiful and quick, too. They really do raise wonderful women in the lower forty-nine, don’t they?”

Marta narrowed her eyes again. “Why don’t you go there yourself and see?”

The wind whipped her hair against his cheek, evoking a warm feeling within him. “Maybe I will,” he agreed. “Someday.”

Sydney could only smile and shake her head at the exchange. If Ike had ever had any intention of leaving Hades, or Alaska itself for that matter—the way so many others did as soon as they reached legal age—he wouldn’t have worked so hard to make a life for himself here.

He’d started out in his teens. Behind that devastating smile, Sydney had discovered, was a man with a plan. Ike had worked hard until he could purchase an interest in the local saloon. For some, that would have been enough. For Ike, it had only been a start.

One foothold had led to another until he was the owner, holding the title to the establishment along with the cousin he’d insisted on bringing in with him. Over the years, his holdings had increased. Now he held the deed to more than one piece of real estate, with grand plans of expanding the town. He meant to bring civilization, and the next century, to Hades.

While melting the heart of every woman in Alaska.

“Ike would never leave us,” Sydney told Marta matter-of-factly as they approached her front door. “All the women in the area would rise up in protest. They’d probably take over the airport just to keep him here.” She was only half joking. The men far outnumbered the women here, but there was still a soft spot in each female heart for Ike LeBlanc.

“Ah, now, darlin’, you’re making me blush.”

Making him blush, her foot. Marta frowned. She was well-acquainted with his type. All talk and a few magic tricks, smoke and mirrors, but no substance whatsoever. She’d been there, done that, and had had her heart irrevocably broken. The pieces of it had never been glued together properly.

But that was all right. She had no further use for that organ anyway. She certainly had no intention of ever falling in love again, so her heart’s condition was no longer of any consequence.

Standing before the door, Sydney paused and turned toward Marta. “Okay, I want you to brace yourself.”

“Why?” She wanted to get inside, out of the wind that was beginning to turn raw. And away from the man at her elbow. “Are you planning on taking me on another plane ride?”

“No.” It was suddenly so important to Sydney that Marta like her children. Marta was like family. With Sydney’s father gone, Marta was all the close family she had left, aside from Shayne and the children. “I just want you to be prepared for Sara and Mac.”

Puzzled, Marta looked up at her. “I’m a teacher, same as you, Sydney. Meeting kids isn’t exactly something out of the ordinary for me.”

“No,” Sydney agreed softly, “but these are mine.”

Marta smiled. She understood. “Point well taken,” she said as Sydney pushed open the oak door. Sara and Mac materialized with greetings, with hugs and with questions, surrounding Sydney as only two vital, energetic children under the age of twelve could.

Marta had a nice smile, Ike thought as he followed her in the opened door. He was going to have to see what he could do about bringing it out more often.

Chapter Three

Marta hadn’t expected to feel an ache. Happiness, yes, to be sure. Happiness for her friend and for the life that Sydney had carved out for herself. Perhaps she’d even thought to feel a vicarious sense of sharing since she and Sydney had once shared everything, good times and bad.

But not an ache. Definitely not an ache.

Yet it was there, bittersweet and strangely acute, burrowing into her and hollowing her out before she managed to bank it down and lock it away. There, because what she was witnessing right before her encompassed everything she had always longed for herself, almost from the very first moment she drew breath. A home, a family. And children. They were all here, and all Sydney’s.

A touch of envy raised its head before it, too, was sent away. This was Sydney’s life, and Marta was ecstatic for her.

She just wished…

But there was no point to that. Her judgment as far as who to entrust her heart to was flawed. Best not to go there.

“What d’you bring me?” Sara’s question had Marta focusing on the child.

Mac was on Sydney’s other side, tugging at her arm. Tugging for her attention. “Did you get my CD?”

Sara lifted her head importantly. “She didn’t have time to get your ol’ CD, she was busy picking up the lady.”

Their voices and questions mingled, encircling the mother they had adopted as fiercely as she had adopted them. Amid the noise was their unabashed, wide-eyed scrutiny of the new person dropped into their midst.

Marta felt as if she’d been taken apart and put back together again in an instant. And approved, judging from the expressions on the two upturned faces. Visitors, Sydney had warned her, were rare in Hades, especially this time of year. Any new face was to be evaluated and gone over like a shiny, brand-new possession, to be passed from hand to hand and admired, or criticized.

Abandoning their siege on Sydney, they turned their eyes toward Marta, competing for her attention.

“Are you gonna stay here forever?” Sara wanted to know. “Mommy said she couldn’t wait until you got here.”

Elbowing his sister out of the way, Mac presented himself front and center. At ten, he was already exhibiting the promise of becoming a handsome man, Marta thought.

“Did you know she was our mom now? Did she tell you about us?”

Giving her brother an impatient look, Sara tugged on Marta’s parka sleeve. “Do you have any kids of your own we can play with?”

Mac grabbed her arm. “Can I show you my room?”

Not to be outdone, Sara caught hold of Marta’s other arm and pulled in the opposite direction.

Stunned, tickled, Marta began to laugh. She was used to children, but as Sydney had promised, this was something special.

“Hold it, hold it.” Knowing that if she laughed, she’d only undercut what she was about to say, Sydney bit back the sound. Instead, she raised her hand like a safety-patrol crossing guard. “Mac, Sara, let Marta catch her breath.”

Much to Sara and Mac’s delight, Marta shook her head, siding with them.

“Oh, no, don’t let me catch my breath. This is great.” Half in love with the overwhelming duo already, Marta flashed a smile at Sydney over their heads. “There’re only two instead of thirty. I can manage, really.” Looking down at the pair, she fired back answers to their questions. “No, I’m not going to stay here forever, but I will be here for a couple of weeks.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Sydney’s look of pleasure. “And I couldn’t wait to get here myself.” She thought of the Cessna’s bumpy ride. “Although I wasn’t so sure about the last leg of the trip.”

Wispy bangs caught in tiny furrows as Sara scrooched her brow. “Do trips have legs?”

“That’s just an expression she’s using, darlin’,” Ike interjected.

Marta noticed that the little girl preened at the endearment. Why shouldn’t she? At seven, Sara didn’t know any better. She hadn’t at twenty-four, Marta thought ruefully. But she did now.

“And yes,” Marta continued, running a hand over each silky head, “I know that she’s your mom. Every single letter she’s written to me since she got here has been full of things about you.” The information pleased both children, who puffed up their chests importantly. “I don’t have any kids of my own for you to play with, but I’ll play with you myself if you let me.” The declaration was received with unsuppressed excitement. “And I would love to see your rooms.”

Quicker than her brother, Sara caught Marta’s hand in hers first. “This way.”

Sara might have been quicker, but Mac was stronger and more determined as he took the visitor’s other hand and pulled her in the opposite direction. “No, she said she wanted to see my room.”

Sydney hung her parka on the rack, throwing her blue scarf on top of it. She looked at Marta, her point proven.

“See what I mean by overwhelming?” She got in between the boy and girl. “Kids, let go of Marta, she’s not a pull-toy or a wishbone.” Reluctantly, they each let go of the hand they were holding. “She’s going to be here for a while, so everyone’ll get their turn with her.”

“Does that include me?” Ike was behind her, gently helping her off with her parka before Marta could think to stop him.

Soft and low, his voice moved like a seductive, rich scent along the spring breeze. Surrounding her. The smile on his lips hit her with the force of a lightning bolt when she turned around to face him. Unprepared, she felt the definite crackle of electricity passing over her. Into her.

Gotta watch that, Marta, she warned herself. You know what charmers are like. The man obviously had had a lifetime to hone his skills of seduction, and, like the children, welcomed a new diversion.

Not this time, mister. This time, you’ve met your match. I’ve had my shots.

Like a referee stepping between two contenders to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, Sydney was quick to get between Marta and Ike. She took Marta’s parka and hung it next to hers. “Ike volunteered to show you around when you feel like sightseeing.”

I just bet he did, Marta thought. Because the children were there, she kept the comment that immediately occurred to her to herself. Instead, she smiled broadly at Sara and Mac, placing a hand on each of their shoulders.

“All the sights I came to see are right here in this room.” She cast an offhanded glance in Ike’s direction. “Besides, I’m here as a friend, not a tourist.”

Sara’s pretty face puckered again. “But how are you going to fall in love with Alaska if you don’t see it?”

So, there was a plot afoot. And Sydney looked so innocent, pregnant and all. Marta raised a bemused brow in Sydney’s direction. “I have no intention of falling in love with Alaska.” Her eyes strayed toward Ike. “Or anything else.”

Ike stepped in, the expression on his face one that any poker player would have envied. “Wasn’t that the plan? To show her around and get her to stay?”

It had been what she’d hoped for, but nothing that Sydney had put into so many words. At least, not to anyone but Shayne. Obviously she was going to have to have a word with her husband about what the word secret meant.

“Ike.”

He heard the warning note in Sydney’s voice and grinned. “Let the cat out of the bag, didn’t I?” His glance, all encompassing and appreciative, swept over Marta again before returning to Sydney. “Never mind, if it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen.”

Marta had the very distinct impression that the tall saloon keeper wasn’t talking about a love affair that had to do with frozen rivers and snow-covered mountains. Pointedly, she smiled up into his face. “Just as long as no one is holding their breath.”

It wasn’t his breath he was counting on holding, but a beautiful and quite possibly underappreciated woman, he mused. But for now, it was time to ease out of the range of fire.

“Well, you two ladies have a lot to catch up on, so I’ll leave you—” he looked at Marta before momentarily linking his fingers with Sydney’s and holding her hand up “—in these very capable hands.” Before breaking the connection, he raised Sydney’s hand to his lips and kissed it.

Annoyance pricked at Marta. She wasn’t his to leave anywhere. Why did he just assume he could take possession of her, as if she were some wild strawberry growing in the field, waiting to be picked?

“Very considerate of you,” she said coolly.

If she meant to put him off, she was going to have to do a lot better than that, he thought. Ike merely grinned, tickled by her tone. “Good thing I didn’t take off my parka.”

“Me, next!” Sara held up her hand to Ike to be kissed. She looked at Marta over her shoulder. “Did you know Ike’s French?”

“I knew he was something,” Marta murmured.

The laugh was low, unsettling. When Ike reached for her hand, Marta reflexively pulled it behind her back. He didn’t press the matter. Instead, he inclined his head. “Nice meeting you, darlin’.”

Marta raised her chin, a challenge in her eyes. “My name is Marta.”

The grin grew wider, sexier. “Yes, I know, darlin’. I always pay attention, especially when there’s a pretty woman involved.”

Sydney moved between them again, escorting him the few steps to the front door. Afraid that Marta might say something to spoil her plans. She hooked her arm through Ike’s. “Thanks for coming with me, Ike.”

Genuine affection shone in his eyes when he looked at Sydney. “Always a pleasure spending time with you, you know that.”

Impulse pushed an idea into Sydney’s head. She’d planned on moving slowly, but maybe a full-scale attack would be the better way to go. After all, there were only two weeks with which to work.

“Come for dinner tonight. We’re having your favorite.”

The Kerrigan table already boasted of a dish he was interested in, Ike mused. “Don’t go to any extra trouble for me. I’d come if you were serving shoe leather. It’s the company, not the food, that I look forward to, darlin’. See you tonight.” His eyes took in everyone in the room, resting fleetingly on Marta before he eased himself out the door.

Walking back to the all-terrain vehicle he’d left parked in the garage that he’d helped Shayne renovate six months ago, Ike began whistling softly. The wind stole the melody less than a couple of seconds after it emerged.

He glanced back over his shoulder, smiling. It looked as if things were going to be rather interesting for a little while.

If nothing else, Marta Jensen was certainly very easy on the eye. Seeing her without her parka had only confirmed his suspicions. Beneath it was a petite lady, small-boned and graceful—her wobbly descent from the airplane notwithstanding.

He’d watched her at the airport. There was a certain confidence in her walk, a certain tantalizing rhythm to the way her hips moved. The fact that she regarded him with a wide margin of suspicion and a heavy dose of wariness only made the pot at the end of the game that much more tempting to win.

He loved winning, but more than that, he loved a good challenge. And he loved a woman with a mind. There was no question that Marta Jensen was both.

Yes, indeed, it looked as if the next couple of weeks were going to be highly enjoyable.

The moment she met him, Marta knew why Sydney had elected to remain in Hades even after she’d discovered that the man she’d flown out to marry had run off with his ex-fiancé the day before she’d arrived. Tall, dark and handsome to a fault, Dr. Shayne Kerrigan looked like every woman’s dream. Even better, he exuded strength and intelligence, Marta thought. He was capable of listening without flattering.

But the man Marta now found herself sitting across from at Sydney’s dining room table was the antithesis of Shayne Kerrigan.

Well, maybe not quite. Both men were exceedingly good-looking, although in Ike’s case the face was more rugged, the physique more muscular. Ike, according to the information Sydney had insisted on providing, had worked with his hands, and his mind, in one capacity or another from a very early age.

Right now, all she was aware of was that each time she looked in his direction—not at him, mind you, just in his direction—he was looking at her. Looking at her as if she were something rare and special he’d had the good fortune to stumble across.

Perhaps once, her head would have been turned and she might even have been smitten with him. Certainly she would have been flattered by the dark, sexy appraisal and the seductive smile that curved his generous mouth. But that was then.

And this was now.

If pressed, she would have admitted that his eyes, deep and brown, reminded her of a hot cup of coffee with just a hint of cream in it. A hot cup of coffee on a very cold winter’s night.

Even if Sydney had never said a word about him to her, Marta would have surmised Ike LeBlanc had a string of conquests from here to the tip of the lower forty-nine. He just had that way about him.

On the surface, there was nothing not to like. If Shayne Kerrigan was the strong, silent type, his best friend was the strong, vocal type. And granted, it was not annoyingly vocal. Ike didn’t talk on and on, overwhelming the listener. But it was how he said things, more than how often or how much. He could make “Please pass the salt” sound like the opening line to an invitation for a torrid night of lovemaking.

Marta knew all about men who were quick to smile, quick to murmur terms of endearment and undermine a woman’s defenses. Knew all about men whose eyes led to the bedroom and whose words led to heartbreak.

She’d been, lamentably, a slow study, but she’d finally learned her lesson. Once was enough, thank you very much. She didn’t believe in making the same mistake twice. Only fools did that.

Even so, it was hard not to find the man charming. Marta wished that Sydney hadn’t placed Ike directly in her line of vision.

Luckily, the conversation all through dinner was almost nonstop, not a little of it thanks to Sara and Mac. Any momentary lull, however natural, was quickly filled with the sound of childish voices, asking Marta more questions, telling Ike what they’d done since his last visit to their table, sharing all their thoughts openly. Marta sat back and absorbed the atmosphere that vibrated around her, while trying to block out Ike’s section of the table.

“You really struck gold up here,” Marta enthused a little later as she helped Sydney get the dessert plates from the kitchen cupboard.

“We’re the ones who struck gold,” Shayne corrected Marta, walking into the room bearing a couple of plates. “Before Sydney came into our lives, Mac and Sara had set up hostile camps in the house. They wouldn’t even talk to me. And, in their defense, I wasn’t much of a father. I didn’t know how to be one.” There was love in his eyes when he looked at his wife. “It took Sydney to bring out the best in all of us.”

Looking back, it was hard for Shayne to believe that all that was a little more than one short year in the past. After a six-year separation following a particularly bitter divorce, he’d suddenly found himself being called on to be a father again. His ex-wife had been killed in a car crash. With her gone, there was no longer anyone to stand in the way of his seeing his children, something she had done just to spite him. He’d brought them back from New York City, uprooting their lives and garnering only resentment as a harvest. When he’d brought Sydney into his home, giving her what he’d thought at the time was only temporary shelter, she’d walked straight into an armed camp.

Standing at her side, Shayne enveloped Sydney in his arms.

“She worked her magic on us and suddenly made us all realize how precious life was and how sinful it was to waste even a minute of it alone.” Standing beside her, he kissed her temple. And even from that position, he felt the baby kick. Surprised, he laughed. “Looks like we’re not going to be alone for a good, long time.”

Marta could have sworn there was a twinkle in Sydney’s eyes as she looked up at her husband.

“Oh, I think we can manage to find an island of time here and there.” She glanced behind Shayne. “Ike’ll baby-sit, won’t you, Ike?”

Caught off guard, Marta turned around to see that Ike was standing behind her. For a tall man, he moved extremely quietly.

Bringing in more empty dinner plates, Ike placed them beside the sink. Clearly amused, he shook his head. “Now, you know I’ll do anything for you, but watchin’ a newborn’s a little out of my league. Best you get one of the women from the village to tend to him or her until they’re old enough to go ice fishing with me like those two in there.” He nodded toward the dining room.

Well, at least there was something he didn’t pretend he knew how to do, Marta thought, surprised at the disclaimer. She’d expected him to boast about his child-rearing abilities.

She supposed that wasn’t being fair. She hadn’t heard him actually boast about his abilities and accomplishments, real or imagined, the way Alex used to.

Still, she’d only been in Ike’s company for a couple of hours, she reminded herself. Maybe he was just on his best behavior right now, such as it was.

As if on cue, Ike turned toward her, his eyes passing over her face like a gentle caress. “I’m actually at my best when the person I’m minding is far older than an infant.”

“That, I’m sure—” Marta purposely made her tone sugary “—is a matter of opinion.” Picking up the pile of plates from the counter where Sydney had placed them, Marta turned her back to Ike and crossed back into the other room.

Shayne couldn’t resist nudging Ike, his friend since elementary school. “Looks like you’ve got your work cut out with that one.”

“I’ve always loved a challenge, haven’t you?” Ike winked, taking the apple pie that he’d brought to dinner out of Sydney’s hands. Using his back, he eased the door open and walked into the dining area.

Shayne looked down at Sydney. “He means it, you know.”

Sydney smiled warmly. “I know.”

“Maybe you better warn your friend.”

Sydney wasn’t sure if warn was exactly the word to use here. She knew Ike to be a warm, caring human being. Not one woman who had ever shared his company had a single bad word to say about him. He left women better than he’d found them, with a renewed sense of confidence and a radiance about them. If nothing else, she wanted that for Marta. After what she’d gone through with Alex, she more than deserved it.

“Marta can take care of herself. Besides—” Sydney smiled, looking at the closed door leading into the next room “—Ike might be the very best thing to happen to her in a long time.”

Chapter Four

The sound of the flames licking their way through the thick logs nestled in the dark brick hearth worked its way into the stillness of the room.

Holding the black mug of even blacker coffee between his hands, Ike sat back on the brandy-colored leather sofa, quietly regarding the woman who sat on the opposite end. She looked like an arrow poised to be released at any moment.

He wondered if he made her nervous. He was going to work on that. The prospect made him smile.

“You know who you remind me of?”

His deep voice, wedging into what had been a long silence, startled her. Marta took a breath, bracing herself. Oh, boy, here it came, the line he undoubtedly prized above all others. He was probably going to compare her to some bright, nubile young super-model currently reigning on the covers of fashion magazines, thinking that would make her pliant and receptive to his every suggestion.

Prepare to be disappointed, LeBlanc.

She turned haughty green eyes in his direction, confident she had his number. More confident that she wouldn’t be dialing it. “Who?”

He smiled over the rim of his mug before taking a sip. “My sister, Juneau.”

Marta stared at him. That wouldn’t even have come close to making her list of flattering observations. Men who wanted to get a woman into their beds didn’t make those kinds of comparisons. Just where did this backwater Lothario think he was going with this?

Her hands tightened around the mug of coffee she wasn’t drinking. They were lingering over deep, robust coffee whose very aroma was guaranteed to keep a person awake throughout the six month night. Sitting before a roaring fire, for the moment they were alone. Shayne was in the tiny room that served as his study, talking to a distraught mother on the phone. Sydney had gone upstairs to tuck the children in, hopefully for the last time. They’d already come down twice, far more eager to share adult conversation than to put their heads down for the night on a pillow.

She didn’t want to be alone with him.

Marta’d felt Ike’s eyes skimming along her profile these last few minutes and had been bracing herself for the mother of all come-ons.

Comparing her to his sister wasn’t exactly what she would have labeled as a come-on. Her eyes narrowed. “Do I look like her?”

Ike laughed softly under his breath. His sister had long, straight black hair the color of midnight, not short, riotous locks that rivaled the flames in the fireplace. Taking after their mother’s side of the family, Junie’s skin was a hint darker than his, and her eyes were almost black.

“God, no. Junie’s almost as tall as I am and as thin as a whaler’s harpoon. At least she was,” he amended more soberly, “the last time I saw her.”

It’d been three years since June had taken off. Three years since he’d found the note on the bar saying that she was finally getting out of this deep-freeze. It had come on the heels of an argument, and ended with a warning: Please don’t come looking for me, just be happy for me.

As if he could be happy, not knowing where she was. Unbeknownst to her, he’d tracked her down. But she’d seemed happy, so he had done the only thing he could. He had honored her wishes and blamed himself for not having made it easier for her to leave. But she’d been so young when she’d voiced her displeasure, and he’d thought it was just a phase. Hindsight showed him that he’d been selfish, but when he’d attempted to tell her so in a letter a year ago, it had been returned Addressee Unknown. She’d moved on.

He prayed she was happy.

His eyes washed over Marta before he continued. “While you’re a little bit of a thing with a nice share of curves.”

Marta pressed her lips together, ready to fend off what more was coming in the wake of those words. He’d just made a slow start with the comparison, that’s all. But he was coming to the snow job now.

With her back against the arm of the sofa, she regarded him coolly. “If we’re so different, why do I remind you of your sister?”

“It’s that look in your eyes when we talk about Hades.” He paused, taking another sip. Taking his time. There was no reason to hurry. Life had a completely different pace here than in the other states. Here the steps were unhurried, well-placed. “Junie had the same look in her eyes. She was restless here, dying to get out.”

Marta could understand why. She still couldn’t quite come to terms with the fact that Sydney appeared to be happy living out here. “And I take it she got out.”

“Yes.” Ike looked into his mug, watching the firelight shimmer along the inky surface. “She did.”

Was he going to tell her now that he missed his sister? Missed female companionship? Marta grew tense, waiting for the shoe to drop. “Where did she go?”

He shrugged, draining his cup and setting it down on the coffee table. He didn’t feel like going into details, into defending actions he now felt were indefensible. When the letter had been returned, he’d tried to find her and had discovered she’d purposely hidden her trail. That had hurt.

“Beats me.”

Her eyes narrowed to emerald pinpoints. “You don’t know?”

Ike heard the accusation in her voice, the emotion, and wondered what was behind it. Sitting back, he crossed one booted foot over his thigh. He gave her the short, public version. “She didn’t want me to know. Junie ran off with her boyfriend. A guy who thought he was going to take the music world by storm, strumming his guitar and singing songs nobody understood.”

The laugh was short, without his customary humor behind it. Roy Watkins, son of an oil man who had just been passing through, was one of the few human beings he’d ever encountered that he hadn’t liked, even a little. How much of that was justified and how much was because he was Junie’s big brother? He couldn’t honestly say.

“But Junie thought the world began and ended in his shadow, so that’s where she wanted to be.” He looked into the fire, remembering. Blocking the anger the memory stirred. “Roy’s shadow was going out of here, and that was just fine with her. Ever since she’d been a little girl, all she ever talked about was getting on the other side of the northern lights.” Ike turned his eyes toward Marta. “One day, they both just took off together.”

“There are ways to find people.”

Ike inclined his head, acknowledging her point but adding one of his own. “If they want to be found.”

That shouldn’t have anything to do with it, Marta thought in disgust. Juneau was his sister, he was supposed to maintain ties—not write her off as if she hadn’t existed. Or be glad she was gone because she’d been too much trouble.

Like Marta had been for the mother who had so cavalierly given her up because the child got in the way of having a good time. Marta banked down the thought and the faded memory it aroused.

Don’t leave me, Mama. Don’t leave me here.

But the door had slammed anyway, and the social worker had led her away. She’d been five at the time. Five years old when she’d become part of The System.

Marta’s eyes looked pointedly into his. “Even if they don’t.”

There was something going on there behind her eyes, Ike thought. Something that bore exploring. But not quite yet. First, he had to gain her confidence. “People are entitled to privacy if they want it. I figured Junie wanted it. If she hadn’t, she would have gotten in contact with me.” Not tried to remain hidden, he added silently.

“That’s kind of a lazy approach, isn’t it?”

Well, she didn’t pull her punches, he’d give her that. There was something to be admired about a woman who was so honest. Holding his hand out, palm up, he suddenly closed his fingers as if he was grasping something. “You hold onto a bird too tight, you kill it.” And above all, he wanted June to feel free and happy.

Marta frowned at the analogy. “There’s such a thing as a happy medium.”

“Junie didn’t want a happy medium. She wanted something new, exciting. She knows where to find me if she ever needs anything.”

And it was his fond hope that someday, his sister would choose to contact him one way or another. Even after all this time, he sorely missed her. Missed the bond they’d once shared.

Spoken like a man who really doesn’t care, Marta thought. If she’d had a sister, she would have done whatever she could to keep her in her life. “Maybe she’s too proud to ask, did you ever think of that?”

He had, but he couldn’t quite get himself to believe that of Junie. “Pride’s for other people, not for family.” His sister knew he wasn’t the type to rub her nose in a mistake, no matter how great. All he wanted was her happiness.

Ike wondered if she’d found it with Roy.

Marta shrugged, looking away. Family. The single word still shimmered like a mystery, the solution just out of reach. “I wouldn’t know about that.”

Ike knew a little about her. About the foster homes. Sydney had told him. “There’s family and then there’s family.”

She slanted a look at him. “Meaning?”

There was something in her eyes, something he doubted she was even aware of, that made him want to gather her into his arms and tell her things were going to be all right—even though he had no idea what those things might be.

“There’s the family you’re born into, and the one you make for yourself.”

She wasn’t sure she was following him. “You mean marriage?”

If that’s what he meant, she thought it a rather strange reference, given what Sydney had told her about Ike. She would have thought the institution of marriage to be so far from his thoughts that he couldn’t reach it by plane.

Ike acknowledged her response, but he’d been thinking along different lines. “Or just friends. Like you are with Sydney. She said you two were closer than most sisters.”

The observation made Marta smile. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

Was it her imagination, or was he sitting closer to her now than he had been a moment before? She glanced down at her own seat and realized that, somehow, she had been the one to move, not him. How had that happened? She pressed her back into the cushions of the sofa, determined to remain exactly where she was and not move an inch closer.

“And yet you tried to talk her out of coming here.” Watching her, Ike tried to hide his amusement. Did she think he was going to pounce on her?

“I did.”

He heard the defensiveness in her voice. Obviously she thought he was going to tell her she was wrong. Though he loved the town he’d been born in, Ike was more than capable of looking at the situation from her point of view. “I would have done the same thing in your place.” He saw the surprise that came into her eyes. He rather liked the fact that he wasn’t living up—or down—to her expectations. “Not an easy thing—pulling up stakes and moving to somewhere you’ve only read about. Takes a lot of guts.”

Leaning forward, he picked up the framed photograph on the coffee table, studying it for a moment. It was taken the day Sydney and Shayne were married. He remembered that it was a quick, impromptu ceremony. There’d hardly been enough time to find an appropriate dress for Sydney. She made a beautiful bride. And she made Shayne happier than Ike had ever remembered seeing his friend.

“Hell of a woman, Sydney.”

He’d get no argument from her on that. Marta dearly loved Sydney. That was why she was surprised that part of her was almost envious of the admiration she heard in Ike’s voice. It was an old feeling, rising up from the past. A feeling that had once made her want to say, “Me, too. Notice me, too.” A feeling she’d carried with her through all the different foster homes she’d lived in over the years. A feeling that she’d harbored as she’d secretly watched the foster mother or father she’d been assigned to talk to their son or daughter.

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