After her mother and Hayden had fallen asleep, Kate left the room

She walked to where the soda machine hummed and moths dashed themselves to death against the bare light bulb burning above. She fed coins into the machine and pushed the button for iced tea. There was a crashing thump as the can landed in the dispenser, but she left it there because iced tea wasn’t what she’d really come out here for.

She’d come to think about what her mother had said about Hayden deserving a father and Mitch deserving to know he had a son. Why did mothers always have to be right?

Mitchell McCray. For years she’d tried not to think about him, but as her son grew, that became increasingly impossible. Hayden looked way too much like his father. She tried to forget how she’d behaved that night, because a part of her just couldn’t believe Mitch had so easily, so effortlessly swept her off her feet.

Dear Reader,

Stories are sometimes like stray cats. You don’t go looking for them; they find you. This past December I went online to shop for a new dog sled. Sled Dog Central links to all related sites, and their main page announced the shocking news that Susan Butcher, four-time winner of the 1100-mile Iditarod Sled Dog Race, had recently been diagnosed with acute myelogenous leukemia.

Susan’s influence on the lives of others has been profound. At twenty-nine, I watched her being interviewed during the Iditarod by an ABC news correspondent and was awed. She was inspirational, forging her way boldly through the middle of the magnificent Alaskan wilderness, driving her beloved team of sled dogs and handily beating the male-dominated field. Women all over the world rode the runners with her and thrilled to her victory, not just once but four times. Her courage and determination changed our world. How could such a strong-spirited woman with two beautiful daughters and a devoted husband be diagnosed with such a life-threatening disease?

While researching her illness I learned about the critical need for bone marrow donors and joined the donor registry. Then I wrote this story, hopefully to open the eyes of others who might want to help save a life. The characters in this story are fictional, but there’s nothing fictional about leukemia. Progress is being made in the treatments, and the long-term survival rate is climbing, especially for children, but we still have a long way to go. To find out more about how to become a donor, go to www.marrow.org.

Whoever said “If you have your health, you have everything?” was right. Count your blessings and cherish each day. Love your little ones and sing them to sleep. Life is short.

Nadia Nichols

www.nadianichols.com

From Out of the Blue
Nadia Nichols

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Nadia went to the dogs at the age of twenty-nine and currently operates a kennel of thirty Alaskan huskies. She has raced for fifteen years in northern New England and Canada, works at the family-owned Harraseeket Inn in Freeport, Maine, and is also a registered Maine guide.

She began her writing career at the age of five, when she made her first sale, a short story called “The Bear,” to her mother for 25 cents. This story was such a blockbuster that her mother bought every other story Nadia wrote and kept her in ice cream money throughout much of her childhood.

Now all her royalties go toward buying dog food. She can be reached at nadianichols@aol.com.

For Susan

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 SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

FUNNY, HOW SMALL the house looked from the curb. It was the exact same size as all the other cookie-cutter houses on the base with the exact same size lawn in front, but now that it was no longer her home, it looked sad and abandoned and small. The lawn was dry and brown and the bushes against the foundation drooped in the Southern California heat. The street was quiet. No curious onlookers were on hand for her departure. Her CO had kept his promise that there would be no farewell fuss or fanfare. Her furniture and belongings were packed away into the moving van and the crew was ready to roll. One of the men was closing the van’s rear door while the other approached with a clipboard.

“If I could just get your signature on the bottom, ma’am, we’ll be on our way.”

She took the pen and clipboard and signed her full name on the line: Katherine Carolyn Jones. She left off the part she was leaving behind—“Captain.” As of three days ago, when ten years of Navy life had come to a premature end, she was officially a civilian. She handed the clipboard back. “Thank you. See you in a few days.”

“Montana’s not that far. We might even beat you there.”

“You will. We’re taking the scenic route,” she said.

He climbed into the cab of the moving van with his partner, started up the truck and pulled away from the curb.

She wasn’t aware that her mother was standing beside her until she spoke. “Honey? You all right?”

“Sure. Just a little hot, that’s all.” Kate slipped her arm around her mother’s waist. Ruth Jones had been like a rock the past few days, throughout the long, arduous process of packing up. Dressed in blue jeans and a T-shirt, Ruth radiated that ageless Montana cowgirl vitality and had the lean, fit build to match. Her graying hair was neatly bound into a braid that hung between her shoulders.

“Montana’ll seem chilly to you after all these years away.” She glanced toward the car. “Maybe we should get going. Hayden’s getting antsy. He keeps asking where Rosa’s gone.”

Kate followed her mother’s gaze to where her young son fidgeted in the backseat along with Wiggins, the family cat. Neither of them enjoyed riding in vehicles, and the journey was just beginning. This was the first time Hayden would be separated from the woman who’d cared for him during Kate’s frequent absences from his life. Rosa’s tearful goodbye the day before had been heartrending, but she’d refused to come to Montana. It was too far from her family in Mexico. Too cold and snowy. She would stay in California and find another nanny job. Kate knew that wouldn’t be difficult. The fifty-eight-year-old woman was marvelous with children, and an excellent cook and housekeeper to boot. Kate would miss her calm, cheerful competence very much, along with her chicken relleno, green chili stew and guacamole salads.

Hayden was already missing her. He was fussy and irritable and nothing his mother or grandmother did or said seemed to comfort him. It would take them at least three days to drive to Montana because Kate was determined to make it an enjoyable road trip and not a marathon. Her mother’s company would be a good distraction. It would keep her from thinking about why she was giving up the life she’d loved and the career she’d worked so hard for.

She took one final look at her house and was walking toward the car when the base’s postal truck turned the corner and made the requisite stop at the bank of mailboxes that served all the houses on the street. She groaned as her own mailbox was opened and a handful of what were no doubt huge medical bills were stuffed inside. “Hang on a sec, Mom. I’ll be right back.” She trotted up to the postal truck and leaned in the window. “Hey, Charlie, do me a favor?”

“Sure, Captain. What’s up?” A fixture on the base, Charlie had a broad, friendly face and a ready smile.

“I put in a change of address form a couple of days ago. Can you check to make sure it’s gone through? I shouldn’t be getting any more mail delivered here.”

Charlie frowned. “You being transferred?”

“Something like that. Will you do that for me?”

“You know I will, but I wish I didn’t have to. Good luck, Captain. Won’t be the same around here without you stirring the pot and keeping the flyboys on their toes, but I figured something was up when I passed that moving van.”

As he drove off, Kate reached into her mailbox for the last time, drawing out a sheaf of envelopes. Some junk mail, a phone bill and two medical bills. She stuffed the junk mail back in the box for Charlie to deal with and tucked the bills into the visor pocket when she slipped into the car. The hot seat stung her legs, so when she started the engine, she maxed the air conditioner. Cool air poured forth from the vents as she put the car into gear. “Okay, gang, let’s rock and roll.”

Hayden was complaining loudly that Wiggins had clawed him—he’d let the cat out of the pet carrier against her orders—and her mother was talking about the wildflowers blooming on the flanks of the mountains back home, naming each and every one, but the voices faded into silence as they approached the guardhouse.

“Wow,” Ruth said. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

Kate had slowed the car but forced herself to continue driving toward the gate. Ranks of officers in dress uniform flanked both sides of the road and stood at attention, saluting her as she exited the base for the final time. She recognized them all, of course. She’d flown with some of them, commanded others and lived among many for the past four years. She focused her eyes forward, tightened her hands on the wheel and willed herself to remain visibly impassive while inside she fell completely apart. Her CO had promised her this wouldn’t happen. He’d sworn to keep her resignation and departure, and the reasons for both, in the strictest of confidences. Yet here they were, the men and women she’d served with, saying a final goodbye the only way they knew how, even though she was no longer a naval officer—just a thirty-two-year-old civilian mother returning home to fight the toughest battle of her life.

At the very end of the row of uniformed officers, Kate saw her CO, and next to him, in the flesh, stood the legendary Fleet Admiral Ransom Gates, the highest ranking officer in the United States Navy. Feeling overwhelmed as Admiral Gates approached the car, Kate put the vehicle into Park and struggled to unbuckle her seat belt. He waved a hand, stilling her.

“At ease,” he said, leaning toward her open window. “Your commanding officer informed me of your resignation. But since you’re one of the finest officers in my fleet, I’m not accepting it. As of now you’re on an extended emergency medical leave, with full benefits and pay.”

“But, sir…”

“I’ve done a little research. I know what you’re up against and I’m aware it could be two years before you’re out of the woods, but there isn’t a doubt in my mind that you’ll make it all the way back.” He passed her a letter-sized sheet of paper and riveted her with eyes as blue and cold as the oceans he ruled. “You’re a fighter, Captain. Beat this thing. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir.” Kate took the paper from him, recognizing her own signature at the bottom. It was her formal resignation. The word Void had been stamped across it in bold red letters.

“Good luck, Captain,” Admiral Gates said, then stepped back from the car and saluted her. As she drove off the base, she narrowly avoided sideswiping the guardhouse. Suddenly her twenty-twenty vision wasn’t all that sharp.

BAD THINGS happened in threes. Three months ago Kate had been diagnosed with acute myelogenous leukemia. Three days ago, upon being released from the hospital after her second month-long chemo treatment, she’d resigned her commission, or tried to, after getting her health insurance coverage extended through the proper channels, and just yesterday the doctors had told her that as yet no suitable match had been found for a bone marrow transplant. That made three very bad things, which meant that for a while, at least, things should go pretty smoothly.

Sure enough, the first two days of the road trip were good. Hayden settled down, Wiggins resigned himself to riding in the pet carrier and had stopped his bloodcurdling howls, and she and her mother shared long rambling conversations about everything and nothing at all while the Sierra Nevadas fell behind and the Rockies loomed ahead. The one thing they never discussed was the reason Kate was going back home, which suited her just fine. Her mother had a tendency to become emotional when the topic came up, and emotional displays were something Kate had never been comfortable with. Her life in the Navy had protected her from that. The military discipline, male-dominated upper ranks and stern emphasis on protocol had served as her sword and shield.

It hadn’t been lost on Kate that her mother had put a huge box of tissues on the seat between them, no doubt for their mutual use should the waterworks ever start. If Kate had her way, the box would still be full at the end of the trip. Tears were pointless.

On the third day, about an hour after stopping for lunch at a little diner on Interstate 15 in Idaho, her mother looked into the backseat, saw that Hayden was napping, then faced front, folded her hands in her lap and sighed. “Kate, maybe it’s none of my business, but in all these years you’ve never volunteered much information about Hayden’s father.”

The subject was bound to come up sooner or later. Kate was surprised that it hadn’t been sooner. A whole lot sooner. She couldn’t blame her parents for wanting to learn everything they could about their grandchild. “That’s because there’s not much to tell. I’ve made a few mistakes in my life and that man was one of them. I’d rather not talk about him.”

“That’s been obvious ever since you told us you were pregnant, but he is the father of your child—one of the only two parents he’ll ever have.”

“And the only one, once I’m gone. Is that the point you’re trying to make?”

“You’re going to get well, Kate. That’s not what I meant at all. It’s just that I know how stubborn and unyielding you can be when it comes to men. I’m not saying I blame you,” Ruth was quick to add. “You’ve fought hard in your career and more than a few men have tried to trip you up. Nevertheless, at one time you must have felt something for this man.”

Kate felt herself flush. “Mom…”

“Did he treat you badly, or abandon you when you told him you were pregnant?”

“Not exactly.”

“Was he married?”

“I don’t think so.”

Her mother frowned at this. “Does this guy even know he has a child?”

A long silence passed between them and Kate realized her hands were cramping around the steering wheel. She forced herself to relax her grip and drew a slow breath. “I don’t think so,” she repeated.

“You mean, you never told him?”

“No. I never told him.”

“Why not?”

“Because he was never a part of my life. In fact, I know very little about him. Our relationship was nothing more than a one-night stand. That sometimes happens between two sexually deprived individuals. You know.”

“Sorry. I can’t say that I do, and I’m surprised to hear that you behaved that way.”

“I don’t make a habit of it, Mom, but that’s the reason I never told you about Hayden’s father. You expect me to be perfect and I’m not. Boy, am I ever not. But in spite of how Hayden came about, he’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to me, and if I should die, I want to know he’s with my parents, the other two most perfect things that ever happened to me. End of discussion.”

There was another long silence as they both stared out the windshield, then her mother pulled a tissue out of the box and blew her nose. “I think that’s very selfish of you,” she said.

Kate exhaled an exasperated breath. “How so?”

“Think how much your father would have missed if he’d never known you.”

“That’s different. The two of you were in love. You were married. You wanted to have a child together. You planned me.”

“I can’t imagine you’d have slept with just anyone no matter how ‘sexually deprived’ you were at the time. You’re too smart and independent minded. Besides, if the worst happens, what are we supposed to tell your son when he asks us about his father? This is something we need to know, Kate. It’s important.”

“As soon as he figured out there was suppose to be a daddy in his life, I told him his father died in a plane crash. He never asks anymore, so you don’t have to worry.”

“Why didn’t you just tell him the truth?”

“That his mother hopped into the sack with a man she’d just met and hasn’t seen since that night? What point would that serve?” Kate felt her heart rate accelerate as she fought to keep her cool. “Okay, here’s the deal. You want to know who this guy is? I’ll tell you. His name is Mitchell McCray. He was a major in the air force when I met him, stationed at Eielson Air Force Base in Alaska. I have no idea where he is now, but worst-case scenario, you could contact the base and find out. Just promise me you’ll never, ever hand my son over to a man you don’t even know.”

Her mother sat for a few moments, digesting this. “When were you in Alaska?”

“Well, Mom, we Navy types jump ship once in a while, especially when we’re feeling the need for…company.”

“And he never tried to contact you afterward?”

“He sent me one letter.”

“What did it say?”

“I don’t know. I never opened it.”

“Weren’t you the least bit curious?”

“No.” Kate felt her stomach muscles tighten as she recalled getting that letter at mail call one month into a blue water ops and just two days before the ship’s doctor had informed her she was pregnant. She’d seen the name and return address scrawled in the upper left-hand corner and felt a jolt of shock when she realized who it was from. The letter had been forwarded twice, the initial posting having been made three weeks earlier. She had stared at it for a few breathless moments, her cheeks burning as she remembered her shameless behavior with a virtual stranger, then flung it off the flight deck unopened. “It’s not like we had a long-term relationship, Mom. It was just one night.”

“Still, I think you should look him up.”

“Just call him on the phone, ask him if he remembers me, then tell him he has a son?”

“He deserves to know. You also need to find out his medical history and that of his family. That will be important information for Hayden to have.”

“What if he turns out to be a jerk?”

“I’m your mother, Kate. I know you. If this guy won your heart for even one night, he must have been something else. I suspect that’s also why you ran away from him so fast and never told him about Hayden and never opened that letter. A relationship would’ve complicated your life and distracted you from your goals.”

Kate opened her mouth to reply, then shut it again. She hated it when her mother talked to her in that tone of voice, but arguing with her would only prolong the lecture. She hesitated, then tried another approach. “It’s been over four years. He could be dead, for all I know.”

“I doubt that. Kate, your father is sixty-four and I’m sixty-two,” her mother continued. “By the time Hayden graduates from high school, we’ll be soaking our dentures in whitening solution and using canes and walkers to get around. We may not live to see him graduate from college. Then he won’t have any family to cheer him on or to fall back on in tough times. He’ll be all alone. Of course, we’ll take care of him if, God forbid, anything ever happens to you, and we’ll love him and cherish him and protect him for as long as we can, but that might not be for all that long.”

Kate fought to control her emotions, but realized she’d failed when the road ahead blurred and her mother handed her a wad of tissues.

“You told me this man wasn’t a part of your life, but Kate, if he hadn’t cared about you, he wouldn’t have written that letter. You still have the opportunity to give Hayden the father he deserves. Just think about it.”

THEY SPENT the final night in a little roadside motel and ate an early supper of burgers and fries at the adjacent diner. After her mother and Hayden had fallen asleep, Kate left the room and walked beneath the overhang to where the soda machine hummed and moths dashed themselves to death against the bare lightbulb burning above. She fed coins into the machine and pushed the button for iced tea. There was a crashing thump as the can landed in the dispenser, but she left it there because iced tea wasn’t what she’d really come out here for.

She’d come to think about what her mother had said about Hayden deserving a father and Mitch deserving to know he had a son. Why did mothers always have to be right?

Mitchell McCray. For years she’d tried not to think about him, but as her son grew, that became increasingly impossible. Hayden looked way too much like his father. She tried to forget how she’d behaved that night because a part of her just couldn’t believe Mitch had so easily, so effortlessly, swept her off her feet.

She’d been at Midway for a week of gunnery training and was planning to refuel at Adak en route to Mirimar when the winds became so severe they actually toppled a construction crane on the base. After she’d made two unsuccessful attempts at landing with wind gusts topping one hundred knots, Adak tower told her the only chance of putting her Hornet down was at Eielson. All of Alaska was snowed in by the storm and the weather was so bad no tanker was available for her to refuel, but they told her the winds weren’t quite as severe in the interior.

Good luck, they’d said.

She knew she’d need it. Eielson Air Force Base was 1,358 miles from Adak. She programmed the identifier for Eielson into her inertial navigation system and turned on the autopilot, realizing that if she made it there, it would be a miracle. A far more likely scenario was that she’d run out of fuel, eject from the plane and freeze to death before hitting the ground in her chute. Meanwhile, until that happened, she’d keep pulling the power back and climbing for altitude until it was time to start her descent to Eielson. The only thing in her favor was the wind. She was riding a jet stream of 160 miles per hour and, as it turned out, it was enough of a boost to get her to her destination just before engine flameout.

The landing was bumpy, and for a few moments after she brought the plane to a stop, she could do nothing more than slump in her seat while her heart rate slowed and the adrenaline oozed out of her. A man emerged from the nearest hangar and wrestled a yellow ladder through six inches of snow, pushing for all he was worth while twisting his upper body away from the bite of the wicked gusts. As he approached, she stirred herself back to life, popped the canopy and was un-buckling her harness when he climbed up the ladder to help her out of the cockpit. In the rapidly waning daylight she could see his dark hair whipping across his forehead.

“Welcome to the North Pole!” he called over the shriek of the wind. “You must be one of those fancy naval aviators we’ve heard rumors about. What happened? You lose your boat in the storm?”

He knew, of course, the reason behind her emergency landing at Eielson. He was just being a wiseass. When she pulled off her helmet and he realized he was talking to a woman, he backed away to read the name painted on the side of her canopy. “Well, Lieutenant K. C. Jones, that was one hot shit landing you just made in hurricane-force winds with zero visibility and nothing but auxiliary power. I’m Major McCray, but you can call me Mitch. Climb on down and I’ll buy you a drink.”

“I don’t have time for socializing, Major,” she said. “I’d like to get my plane checked out before leaving. That was a rough landing and I had multiple caution lights. How soon can you have it ready to go?” she asked once her feet touched solid ground.

“This runway’s closed. Hell, this air base is closed, as is every other airport in the state. Everyone’s holed up for the duration.”

“The duration of what? Are you telling me a little snow and wind shuts down an entire air force base? I have a schedule to keep.”

“Not anymore. Don’t you swabbies listen to the weather report? This Pacific howler’s expected to drop upwards of three feet. Your flight log just ended here, a few miles shy of the arctic circle.” When she didn’t react, he added, “Don’t worry—we’ll get your plane checked out in time for you to catch up on your California sunbathing. I’m pretty skilled with a sledgehammer and chain saw, and the good news is you’ll have time for a drink or two at the Mad Dog while you wait. I’ll even drive you over there myself and introduce you around to the polar bears. They’re kinda cute when they aren’t hungry.”

She followed him into the hangar, where several hissing and sputtering Coleman lanterns provided the only light. “Power’s out and the emergency generator won’t come on line, probably because this is a real emergency,” he explained, slamming the door on the storm. “The lights you saw on the runway were from the plow trucks. We like to provide a little guidance for you lost pilots. Skidder! We got us a pretty little Hornet parked outside that needs to be dragged in here before the drifts get much higher. Both engines flamed out in the final approach and she had a rough landing.”

A hulking giant of a man ambled across the hangar and stared at Kate with that slack-jawed look she’d grown accustomed to over the years. “This the pilot, Major?”

“Skidder, meet Lieutenant K. C. Jones.” Major Mitchell McCray gave her a brash, arrogant grin. “She wants the plane checked over and ready to go ASAP. For some reason, she prefers California sunshine to our Alaskan blizzards, but she hasn’t been to the Mad Dog yet.”

THAT HAD BEEN almost five years ago, but it felt like yesterday. She could still smell the jet fuel and the fresh paint scents of the hangar, feel the sting of the wind-driven snow when he escorted her out to the plow truck to ferry her the blustery mile to the Mad Dog for the promised drink. Only, as it turned out, the Mad Dog Saloon was closed due to the power outage. That didn’t faze Mitch. The saloon owner tossed him the keys on his way out the door along with a brusque, “Lock ’er up when you leave.”

Major McCray fixed her a drink by the soft glow of a kerosene lamp and they huddled near the woodstove in the center of the room for warmth, first sharing flying stories, the way all pilots do, then war stories the way combat pilots do. Then they had another drink and the combined effects of the alcohol, the heat from the stove and the lack of any solid food for the past twelve hours conspired against her. Kate was way beyond being seduced by an arrogant jet jock with a type A personality. She’d long since decided that men had been put on earth solely to hone an intelligent and motivated woman’s desire to prove her equality, and in many cases, her superiority. She’d spent years fighting for every toehold on that precarious Navy ladder, years proving that she was a whole lot better than most of the men who looked down on her, yet she’d nearly thrown it all away in one stormy night with an air force officer in a rustic saloon called the Mad Dog.

For the past four years, she’d tried to forget how easily Mitch had seduced her, but now, standing in the harsh light of the motel, she admitted to herself that, once again, her mother was right. He’d been something else. Five minutes in his company and she’d felt like she never wanted to leave his side. Even before she’d taken the first sip of that drink he’d mixed, she’d been captivated by those dark bedroom eyes, that handsome grin and the masculine strength of him. Years of rigid discipline and unwavering focus had melted away in the heat of that passionate night. While the blizzard piled the snows up outside the Mad Dog and blew drifts beneath the door, the lone kerosene lamp gradually burned itself out, engulfing them in a darkness neither noticed.

She’d spent years trying to forget how he’d made her feel, but the memories could still make her blush. Mitchell McCray had effortlessly threatened a lifetime of dreams and visions and left her scrambling to find solid footing again in a profession that she’d fought so hard to be a part of. She’d landed on her feet after that fall from grace, but only barely. That one night had resulted in a pregnancy that nearly destroyed her career, but the only person she could blame for her actions was herself.

Kate retrieved the cold can of iced tea from the dispenser and started back to the room, stopping abruptly as the world shifted beneath her feet and tipped her off balance. She reached out for a porch post, closed her eyes and leaned against it until the dizziness passed. The fatigue gnawed at her constantly, but the dizzy spells and intermittent stomach pains were something new. She hadn’t been able to swallow more than two small bites of her hamburger, in spite of her mother’s frequent glances across the Formica table in the little diner, while Hayden smeared his fries in ketchup and in a feeding frenzy shoved them into his hungry mouth. “Try to eat,” her mother had said. “You need to keep your strength up.”

This had been so hard on her mother, and it was only going to get worse. What had she been thinking of, agreeing to spend the next two months in Montana? The base doctor had urged her to stay near the Seattle hospital that had been treating her, but her parents had argued that being home would keep her happier and hopefully healthier until that miraculous bone marrow donor came along. But what about Hayden?

What about Hayden!

She straightened, drew a shaky breath and wondered what the letter had said, the one she’d so willfully destroyed. What a fool she’d been. What an arrogant, stubborn, prideful fool. Was Mitchell McCray married now? Did he have a family of his own? Did Hayden have brothers and sisters he’d never met? These were things she needed to find out, and quickly. The bone marrow registry might come through with a good match for her, but thus far the prospects remained bleak. Not many people volunteered to be tested for such a donation unless a friend or family member was stricken.

She needed to get her affairs in order—right away—just in case.

THE NEXT DAY, two hours into the morning’s journey and not a hundred miles from home, Kate finally found the nerve to say to her mother in a quiet voice, so Hayden couldn’t overhear, “Mom, I’ve been thinking about what you said and I’ve decided that you’re right. I need to talk to Mitch. I made some phone calls last night. It turns out he’s no longer in the air force but he’s still in Alaska, flying for an air charter service in a place called Pike’s Creek. Hayden and I have a flight out of Bozeman this afternoon.”

“This afternoon?” her mother exclaimed. “Don’t you think you should go home and see your father first?”

She felt the twist of painful emotions and focused hard on road ahead. “I think the sooner I get this meeting over with, the better.”

“But what if they find a donor? How will we contact you?”

“I’ll give you my phone number so you can reach me, and I promise I’ll call you every night. But I’m not going to hold my breath on a donor coming through. It might not happen, and I could be running out of time.”

“Please don’t talk that way.”

“Mom…”

Her mother sat up straighter, preparing to deliver another maternal lecture. “You’re taking Hayden? How will you take care of him? You’ve been so sick, you’re still weak, and he’s such a handful…”

“I’m not weak. I feel lots better—really, I do. But don’t worry, I called Rosa last night from the pay phone in the diner. She’s meeting us at the Seattle airport this evening and she’s agreed to come and stay with Hayden until this is resolved one way or the other.”

Her mother slumped back in her seat with a look of bewilderment. “You decided all this last night?”

“While you were sleeping.” Kate heard the concern in her mother’s voice, but she was resolute. “Our flight leaves at 2:00 p.m. We should be in Bozeman with an hour to spare. You can take Wiggins to the ranch, turn him loose on the mice in the barn and I’ll be home in a week or two.”

“What about infection? You’re so vulnerable right now. Your immune system is practically nonexistent. Flying on a big commercial plane and breathing all those germs…”

“The doctors wouldn’t have released me from the hospital if my blood counts hadn’t been adequate, but I promise I’ll hold my breath on the plane.”

“Couldn’t you just call this man up and ask him to come to Montana?”

“Sure I could, but how will I meet his friends and family that way? How will I see the way he really lives? How will I know what he’s really like unless I see him in his own world?”

Her mother nodded slowly and sighed. “What do you want me to tell your father?”

Kate gripped the wheel tightly and had to work hard to speak the next words without breaking down. “Tell Dad I love him, and I’ll be home soon.”

THE MOOSEWOOD Road House was gearing up for the summer tourism season, but in early June they were still a few weeks away from being all that busy and, best of all, they were located not ten miles from the place where Mitch worked. Kate made reservations from the airport in Anchorage when their flight arrived. The helpful person at the car rental booth told her that the Moosewood was a small place with a number of cabins scattered along the edge of a river valley overlooking the mountains, and a main lodge with a restaurant and bar on the ground floor. It was a little over two hours’ drive from the airport. While Rosa held the sleeping Hayden in her arms, Kate filled out the rental paperwork, got the directions to the roadhouse, and fifteen minutes later they were on their way.

It was still broad daylight at 11:00 p.m., though by the time they arrived at their lodging, twilight had fallen. They were shown to one of the larger two-bedroom cabins, which had a living room, a fireplace, a full bath and a sleeping loft.

Kate was so exhausted she had trouble mustering an obligatory “Wow” when she stood on the porch and looked toward the snowcapped mountains that appeared to glow across the violet-hued distance.

The employee set their bags inside the cabin door. “You’re looking right at Denali. Believe it or not, you can’t see that mountain most of the time. Big as it is, it’s completely hidden in the clouds, but the past few days have been clear. You folks been here before?”

“I passed through once in the middle of a blizzard.”

“Well, you’re in for a real treat. Enjoy your stay and if you need anything, room service or whatever, just call the front desk. We serve in the restaurant until 1:00 a.m. and we open for breakfast at six.”

Hayden barely woke as Rosa changed him into his pajamas and settled him into the queen-size bed in Kate’s room. “I could sleep with him in my room, señora, so you can get a good rest,” she’d offered, but Kate shook her head.

“That’s okay, Rosa. He’s so tired he won’t twitch all night.”

Neither did she. Even the nightmares left her in peace. A mere five hours later, she woke, feeling refreshed, much better than she had in a long time, and even better than that after taking a long hot shower. The sun was already well up when the room service breakfast was delivered. Kate drank her first cup of strong black coffee standing on the porch and staring across a vast, timbered valley toward that gigantic mountain. “Denali,” she murmured, awed by the sheer magnificence of the famed peak.

While Rosa gave Hayden his morning bath, Kate phoned her mother to tell her they’d arrived safely and to give her the name and number of the Moosewood. Then she paid a visit to the office to ask where the Pike’s Creek Road was. The directions were fairly straightforward. “But it gets pretty rough after the first mile,” the desk clerk cautioned.

“How rough?”

“I wouldn’t drive that rental car in there. The rental agencies don’t like their cars being driven on gravel roads.”

“Is there an airport somewhere out there?”

“I don’t think I’d go so far as to call it an airport. There’s a grass strip on the right-hand side just before the road gets really rough. You’ll see where the road forks to the right. That leads to the landing strip. Wally’s Air Charter flies out of there.”

“Oh? Is it any good?”

The clerk hesitated. “I hear the pilot’s great, but the plane’s a derelict. We usually recommend Polar Express out of Talkeetna.”

Kate considered his advice as she returned to the cabin. Hayden had eaten breakfast with Rosa and was complaining about not being able to watch his favorite TV programs because the cabin didn’t have a TV. Rosa turned a practiced deaf ear. She’d grown up without the “one-eyed monster” as she referred to it. She would take him outside, she told Kate, and show him all the small wonders around their cabin.

“Thank you, Rosa. That sounds better than TV any day,” Kate said. “I’ll be back by dark and maybe a whole lot sooner, depending on how things go. You can order room service or eat in the restaurant when you get hungry, whichever you choose. My mom’s phone number is in my bedside drawer if you should need it.”

“Yes, señora.”

“There are lots of books for guests to read in a bookshelf in the living room of the main lodge.”

Rosa smiled, seeing through Kate’s stall tactics. “We’ll be fine, señora. Good luck.”

Luck was something she’d run out of several months ago, but nevertheless Kate was feeling optimistic as she climbed into the rental car. Maybe it was seeing the way the morning sunlight had illuminated the snowfields on Denali’s peak an hour earlier, but she felt as if today might turn out to be pretty good. Maybe this meeting with Mitchell McCray wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe it’d turn out great.

Maybe her luck was about to change.

Ten minutes later, not quite a mile down the gravel road, she felt the steering wheel pull hard to the right and knew before she stopped that she had a flat tire. She got out and stared at it for a moment, then looked down the rutted gravel track that led toward all the answers she was seeking and felt a growing sense of despair. If this was an omen of what those answers would be, she took it as a bad one.

The second bad omen was when she discovered that the rental car didn’t have a spare, and because she already knew that bad things happened in threes, she figured it was only a matter of time before the hammer fell.

CHAPTER TWO

MITCHELL MCCRAY hated Mondays. For some reason, Monday seemed to be the day most of the emergency calls came in. The groups that had been flown in to base camp a week or two before would almost always have a member in trouble by Monday and be on the radio to the flying service that abandoned them there, asking for assistance. Begging, sometimes in that desperate and disbelieving way, as if the idea of failure had never occurred to them. As if illness or injury or bad weather had never figured in to any of their carefully thought-out plans.

But that wasn’t why he hated Mondays. Mitch hated Mondays because it was written into Wally’s secret code of work ethics: never, ever show up for work on Mondays. And because Wally was the boss, he got away with spending every Monday with Campy, who also had Mondays off and was sexy enough to make any red-blooded man forget that Monday was supposed to be the first day of the work week, not the last day of the weekend.

Therefore, all of Monday’s woes fell on his own shoulders and he never had backup. He also hated Mondays because if there was one day of the week the damn plane malfunctioned it would be on a Monday. Somehow, Wally had infused his own pathetic work ethic into the very rivets of the temperamental flying machine he’d dubbed Babe. What kind of a mechanic/pilot/flying service owner would name a plane after a cartoon pig? Then again, maybe it was a perfect moniker. The old red-and-white Stationair sucked down aviation fuel like a factory-farmed market hog and was about as athletic. It had crash-landed twice, sustained serious structural damage both times and taken additional abuse from several bad hail storms, which was why Wally had been able to buy it so cheap.

Which was also why it was on the ground more often than it was in the air.

In the first two hours of the day, Mitch fielded a radio transmission from a bunch of German climbers who were experiencing second thoughts about one of their companion’s stomach pains. “Ve sinks eet might be heez apindeezeez!” So he assured them he’d be along soon, only to discover, when he tried to fire up Babe, that Wally’s market hog had died at the trough sometime between engine shutdown Sunday night and attempted start-up Monday morning.

Mitch now had to drive all the way into Talkeetna to pick up the part they should have replaced weeks ago, which meant he had to give the German climbers’ rescue over to Polar Express, which meant they’d be the ones to reap the huge gratuity for saving the sick climber from a possibly fatal attack of “apindeezeez” because climbers, especially foreigners, tipped big when they were rescued, which was the only good thing to come out of a Monday.

All of which put him in a very ugly mood when he climbed into his truck and gunned it down the middle of the airstrip toward Pike’s Creek Road, throwing up a rooster tail of gravel and dust and nearly running over Thor, who woke from his fourth boredom nap of the morning just in time to realize he was being left behind. Mitch slammed on the brakes and the big, black wolfish-looking dog leapt effortlessly into the back. He’d ride there all the way to the “big city” and back, yellow eyes staring through the rear sliding window and the windshield, watching intently for moose—a tact that was both his hobby and profession. The brute was good at it, too, especially at night. Whenever he saw one he’d let out a woof that never failed to get the driver’s attention. Thor had saved Mitch’s life many times over. Seeing a dark moose on a dark road in the dark was damn near impossible, and lots of Alaskans had lost their lives because they hadn’t seen it.

He was almost out to the highway when he spotted the little tan-colored sedan with the flat tire. Why the hell anyone would try driving a city car like that on a road like this was beyond him. He slowed down. Who knows? Maybe this was a chance to pick up a few extra bucks and put some gas in the tank. Talkeetna was a long haul if you weren’t a crow, and fuel was damned expensive. He pulled alongside and leaned out his window, sizing up the situation. Rental car. Young slender woman with short dark hair, dressed in blue jeans and a fleece jacket trying to put one of those little scissor jacks under the axle on the opposite side of the car. Couldn’t see what she looked like, but maybe she’d be good-looking enough to turn his day around. A man could always hope.

“Need a hand?” He cut the engine and got out, slamming the truck door behind him. She abandoned her efforts and pushed to her feet to face him as he rounded the front of her car. Recognition struck a hard blow to his solar plexus, stopping him in his tracks. God almighty. K. C. Jones stood in front of him, staring him right in the eye in that proud defiant way, and she was just as dangerously gorgeous as the first time he’d set eyes on her. She’d cut her beautiful long hair, but it was her, all right. He’d thought about her from time to time over the years, more than he liked to think about any woman, but that was because of the way she’d treated him. She was the first woman he’d been intimate with who’d left him without so much as a goodbye.

“I’ll be damned,” he finally managed to say. “You must be one of them fancy naval aviators the government sent north to field-test rental car tires on the Pike’s Creek Road.”

“Hello, Mitch,” she said, cool as the morning. “How are you?”

“Great. You?”

“Fine.”

“Been awhile.”

“Yes, it has.” And then she nodded over his shoulder. “Is that your truck?”

He glanced behind him as if there might be some question. Thor was standing on the diamond-plate toolbox that spanned the bed behind the cab, ears at attention and eyes fixed on K. C. Jones. “No. It belongs to Thor. The dog. But he lets me drive it,” he said, wishing the rust spots weren’t so big and numerous. “Good to see you, by the way. What’s it been, four, five years? What brings you this far north?”

She gave him a small smile. “I had some time off and thought I’d see what Alaska looks like without any snow on it.”

“So it’s just a coincidence that you happened to be driving down this particular road when you got a flat?”

“Not exactly. I was coming to see you.” After an awkward pause, during which she had the decency to blush, she added, “I’m sorry, I know you must be busy. You were driving somewhere in a big hurry. I probably should’ve called first but…”

“Not a problem,” Mitch assured her. “I figured you’d show up sooner or later.”

“You did? Why?”

“To apologize for not saying goodbye when you left Eielson.” Her blush deepened. Good. At least she hadn’t forgotten that part. “I’m on my way to pick up a part for Babe in Talkeetna. I’ll fix the flat on your rental car, then if you want, I’ll take you out for lunch.”

“The rental doesn’t have a spare,” she said. “I discovered that just before you arrived. But lunch sounds fine. It’ll give us a chance to talk.”

Mitch removed her flat tire in minutes, threw it in the back of the truck to drop off at the local gas station, and in minutes they were on their way.

She’d said she wanted to talk and he was kind of curious to find out why she’d shown up from out of the blue after four plus years, especially since she’d never answered his letter, but several miles passed without her saying a word. The silence between them soon became the loudest thing he’d ever heard. He figured it was up to him to jump-start this conversation.

“So, how long have you been in Alaska?”

“I just arrived last night.” She gave him a questioning glance. “Who’s Babe?”

“Babe’s the only plane owned by Wally’s Air Charter at the moment, but I have my eye on another.”

“I heard you left the air force.”

“Yeah. It was time. I started out on the career track, same as you, but I lost my enthusiasm for military life after they tried to court-martial me.” Her eyes bore into him with such a peculiar look, he nearly drove off the highway, but he wrenched the wheel and managed to keep all four tires on the asphalt. “I wrote you right after it was over. The trial was short because they didn’t have much of a case, but when the time came to reenlist, I didn’t. No regrets.”

“I see.” She sat through another endless five-mile silence before asking, “How do you like flying for an air charter?”

“The flying’s great, but business is iffy. Wally’s a good mechanic—he specialized in airframe and power plant in the military—but trying to keep Babe in the air is costing us more than it’s worth. I should be flying out to the mountain to pick up a sick German climber but instead I’m driving to Talkeetna to pick up another airplane part. Which means no groceries this week.”

Six more miles of silence slipped past before she said, “Do you have a family?”

Didn’t everyone? “Yeah. Three brothers, two younger, one older; a baby sister; and my dad. My mother died of cancer a few years back. They all stayed put in Maine. I’m the only escapee.”

This time the silence was brief. “What I meant was, are you married?”

This wasn’t quite the conversation he’d thought they’d be having. “Huh?”

“Wife, kids?”

“Happily divorced for six years, no kids.” Four more miles of silence went by. With the tension screaming around the cab of the truck, he decided they were the longest four miles he’d ever traveled. He was beginning to regret asking her to come along. Why was she here anyway? “You married?” he finally asked.

“No.”

He nodded. “I read about you in the September issue of Air Force magazine. Great article, though I thought it was traitorous that they’d profile a Navy flier. It mentioned the difficulties of juggling motherhood and a career. Since it didn’t include ‘husband’ in the mix, I figured there wasn’t one.”

“You guessed correctly.”

“But you have a kid?”

“A son. His name is Hayden. It’s an old family name.”

“What does Hayden think about his mother being a Navy pilot?”

“Hayden’s relaxed about everything. He’s a pretty cool kid.”

“I guess pretty cool women just naturally have pretty cool kids.”

He thought that might get a smile but she just looked out the window, heaved a small sigh and said, “I was lucky.”

“Somebody else sure was, too.” The words bounced awkwardly around the cab and he cursed himself for uttering them, but it was true. Somebody was. Some Navy guy, probably. Dare he ask? Ah, what the hell. “What does Hayden think about his father?”

“I told him his father died in a plane crash.”

Tragic for them both, but that explained why she wasn’t married. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, hoping his words sounded more sincere than he felt. “So, how long do you have?”

“Pardon?”

Okay, maybe the silence was better than talking. She was glaring at him as if he’d just insulted her. “How long are you here for? A week? Two?”

She faced front again and said, “I don’t have that long. Two weeks, max.”

“Where are you staying?”

“The Moosewood Road House.”

“Nice place. They have a decent restaurant.”

“Yes.”

This conversation was going nowhere fast. He was no closer to finding out why she was here than he had been thirty miles ago, and she hadn’t yet bothered to explain why she’d never said goodbye to him after the night they’d shared. He was beginning to wish she hadn’t interrupted his Monday, except that, damn it all, she was just as provocative as she’d been the first time he’d set eyes on her. His hormones were already at attention as he envisioned a passionate night or two tangled up in the sheets with her. So what if she hadn’t said goodbye? Maybe this time he’d be the one who flew off without a word.

Fair was fair, after all. Two could play that kind of game.

KATE REALIZED by the time they reached the tiny town of Talkeetna that she was in way over her head. While Mitch was in the aviation building at the small airport picking up his part, she sat in the truck, wondering if her erratic heartbeat had anything to do with the fevers that came and went or with the man she’d just spent the last hour with. What should she do? He was totally in the dark as to her real reasons for being here. He seemed glad to see her but he didn’t know, nor could she figure out how to tell him, that she’d never read the letter he’d sent.

Court-martial? That didn’t sound good. He obviously didn’t make much money, and his prospects for the future didn’t appear much better. He wasn’t married and had no kids, just a dog named Thor and a boss named Wally who obviously owned the charter service.

How should she proceed?

He stepped out of the hangar door and she was struck again by his sheer masculinity. It didn’t matter that he was dressed in faded Levi’s and an equally faded flannel shirt. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t shaved that morning or that his hair needed to be trimmed. He was handsome in a rugged, athletic way that matched the land he’d chosen to make his home in. Maybe he’d never be rich, maybe he’d never drive a late-model truck or fly a plane that didn’t always need fixing, but she had the feeling that somehow he’d get by. He was the kind of guy that would walk away from a hard landing with that same macho swagger and arrogant grin. Nothing would ever beat him down.

He wrenched open the truck door, tossed an object wrapped in a clean rag onto the bench seat between them and hauled himself in behind the wheel. “So, what’s your preference? There’s a deli a little ways from here or a roadhouse that serves great burgers. Your choice.”

“I’m not really that hungry.”

He fired up the engine and eased the truck into gear. “Then let’s grab a sandwich at the deli. It’s not as fancy and it’s quicker.”

He was as nervous as she was, she realized as he drove to the deli; only, when she got nervous, she got quiet, whereas Mitch couldn’t seem to shut up. The deli was rustic and charming with big baskets of bright flowers that hung from the porch eaves. He talked about fishing while they waited for their order to be delivered to the little picnic table on the porch, and in between bites of his sandwich he told her about salmon runs and grizzly bears that prowled the riverbank by his cabin and one instance when he’d barricaded himself inside while a bear chewed his favorite fly rod to splinters. And then came a long pause in the conversation and she glanced up and realized those disarming eyes were studying her intently.

“What?” she said, shifting under his scrutiny.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Something wrong with your sandwich?”

“I told you I wasn’t hungry.”

“You said you wanted to talk, but this is a mighty one-sided conversation.”

She averted her eyes, heart thumping painfully. “I’m enjoying listening to you describe your life here.” She gave him a faint smile. “Your place sounds nice, except for the bears. Maybe you’d give me a tour while I’m here. I love log cabins.”

His eyes narrowed and he sat back in his chair. “Sure. Just say when.”

Kate had spent her childhood dreaming about what she was going to be when she grew up. Once she’d grown up, she’d spent every moment striving to make that dream come true, and every step of the way there had been men standing in her path, blocking her, trying to trip her up and hoping she’d fail and make a fool of herself.

Getting pregnant had been the worst setback of her career. Getting pregnant had validated all those chauvinistic remarks and those sexist attitudes. For four months she’d had to give up flying. Four whole months she’d been grounded because she’d done just what they’d expected her to do. She’d gone out and gotten herself pregnant, just like a woman.

This man had been a major player in tripping her up and almost causing her to fail, yet now she was sitting in this deli listening to him talk and his words were making her feel all warm and fuzzy inside and she caught herself thinking, Wow, for the past four years, I could have had a man in my life that I actually liked to talk to, listen to and, yes, make love with. There was no denying the magnetism that had made him so impossible to resist the first time they met. It was still there. She could still feel it. Just one touch and she’d succumb again, one touch and he’d destroy all her defenses and start another fire, one neither of them could put out. Would that be such a bad thing at this stage of her life?

What was the matter with her? She must be sicker than she thought to be having such crazy ideas. She didn’t need a man. She’d never needed one. She was happy being single. In fact, she preferred it. Nobody had to worry about Captain K. C. Jones. She could take care of herself. Always had and always would.

Always?

Ha! Funny how facing you own mortality cast a harsh light on everything and illuminated truths that had been so easily hidden beneath alternating layers of bravado and pride. Funny how it humbled…

“I have a confession to make,” she said. “I never read the letter you sent. I threw it off the edge of the flight deck, unopened, and I’m sorry.”

MITCH DIDN’T KNOW quite how to take this. All he knew was that it stung. He’d spent countless hours agonizing over each and every word, just to have her fling it off the edge of the flight deck, unopened? The letter he’d written to K. C. Jones four and a half years ago, give or take a few months, was the only one he’d ever penned to a woman. It encompassed weeks of laborious beginnings that went nowhere and awkward revisions that only made the content more stilted. He’d finally mailed it off in a kind of fatalistic coup de grâce.

“That explains why you never answered it,” he said. “But why are you sorry about it now?”

“Because I think maybe I should have read it. I was so angry then. So mad at you and at myself. I know it doesn’t make much sense and I’m sorry about that, too.”

Mitch didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. Why would she have been angry at him? Were all women born irrational?

Probably.

Even if she didn’t give a damn about him, she should have read his letter and had the decency to put him out of his misery with a proper “Dear John” response, instead of leaving him wondering why she’d snuck away as she had. And now here she was, sitting across from him at his favorite deli, having told him she wanted to talk. But about what? Obviously not the fact that she’d missed him.

After watching her shred her paper napkin into smaller and smaller pieces, he finally reached out his hand to pull the remnants away. “Okay,” he said, balling them up and dropping them into the center of the table. “If you’re not so mad anymore, then I guess the two of us have some catching up to do.”

She nodded, and a faint flush colored her cheeks. “Maybe you could take me back to your place and give me the tour. We could talk there.”

“You bet.” He paused in the act of rising out of his chair. “Did I mention my cabin had no indoor plumbing or electricity?”

“That seems appropriate for a cabin.”

“And you’re sure you want to talk there?”

She nodded again.

“Good enough.” He took her uneaten sandwich, wrapped it in several napkins and stuffed it in his jacket pocket in the hopes she’d eat it later. If she didn’t, Thor would. In the center of the table he left a pile of bills, enough to cover the tab and a good-sized tip, and then he escorted Kate back out to his truck and wondered if maybe, just maybe, his day hadn’t just taken a big-time turn for the better.

CHEMOTHERAPY, as defined by her doctors, was the use of drugs or chemicals, often in combinations, to kill or damage cancer cells in the body. These drugs targeted not just cancer cells, but all cells that divided quickly, including those responsible for hair growth. They had been administered intravenously via a small plastic needle inserted in her forearm, delivering a mixed bag of anticancer agents into her bloodstream, a potent cocktail of life and death, of nausea and pain, of hair loss and fatigue and above all else, hope.

For Kate, those weeks spent in the hospital undergoing intensive chemotherapy had been hell. She’d kept Hayden’s picture pinned to the wall by her bed, a bright icon to gaze upon in her darkest hours, and she’d requested several pieces of exercise equipment be scrubbed, sanitized and delivered to her room so she could keep fit while undergoing the most difficult physical and mental challenge of her life. She was still biking four miles each morning when her hair started to fall out, first by the strand, then by the handful. All her long, dark hair disappeared while she pedaled, and she prayed that, in the end, her love of life and for her son would triumph and prevail.

Rosa would bring Hayden to the hospital, and the medical staff would dress them both in sterile gowns and allow them into her room. The first time was hard. Hayden didn’t understand why she couldn’t come home. The second time was even harder. He cried when it was time for him to leave. The third time, her hair was coming out and as she tried to explain it to him he took a handful of it in his little fist and pressed it to the side of his face. “I take it for you, Mumma,” he said. “Now can you come home?”

Kate clung to his precious existence and drew sustenance and strength from it. What else was there to hold on to in a life that measured everything by the yardstick of military might? She had become a weak, pale woman with no hair, retching into a toilet bowl while a nurse said soothingly from behind, “It’s all right.” What was all right about it? She was young and she didn’t see the sense or reason in her illness. She didn’t smoke or drink or do drugs. She ate a healthy diet. She jogged five miles each and every morning, rain or shine. She didn’t understand how or why she’d gotten this sick and she never would, so how could she expect her son to understand when she told him she couldn’t come home?

Yet somehow, Hayden did come to understand. During that first month of her treatment he came to accept her stay in the hospital and her struggle with leukemia with an optimism and resiliency that both humbled and inspired her, and made her more determined than ever to win the fight. She had to be there for him. She had to survive this for Hayden.

After her second month-long chemotherapy session at the cancer research hospital in Seattle, she’d been scheduled for two months of “rest and recovery,” during which time her doctors were hoping a blood match would be found, allowing them to schedule a bone marrow transplant. Her leukemia was an aggressive type, and she’d been told the odds of finding a match were worse than the average of one in fifty thousand because of the native blood on her mother’s side of the family, but the doctors seemed confident that a donor would appear. It had been her mother’s suggestion to spend those two months building up her strength at the family home in Montana, far from the large population centers Ruth was sure would compromise her daughter’s weakened immune system. Her arguments were convincing, especially since Kate had just resigned her Navy commission…or tried to.

Why not go home? Her parents were there, and it would be good for both her and Hayden to be in the old ranch house in the foothills of the Rockies surrounded by millions of acres of wilderness.

Instead, she was here in Alaska, a land whose rugged beauty proved more than equal to that of Montana, sitting in the cab of a rusty old truck next to a man she didn’t know anything about beyond the memories of one passionate night. A man who’d been an officer when she’d met him but was no longer in the military. A man who flew a broken-down plane and barely earned enough to survive on. A man she had to get to know as fast as possible in order to be able to decide if he’d be a fit parent for Hayden because he could end up being the only parent Hayden had.

So, how to begin?

Kate folded her hands in her lap and composed her thoughts while she studied the dramatic scenery as the truck headed north. “Tell me about the court-martial,” she said, reasoning that she might as well get the worst part over with.

He drove a few moments more in silence, then blew out a breath and glanced sideways. “You really didn’t read that letter?” She shook her head and he focused on the road. “I was brought up on charges of conduct unbecoming an officer, dereliction of duty and being absent without leave.”

“What did you do?”

“I spent a night off base with the hottest Navy pilot in the fleet.”

Kate stiffened with shock. She kept her eyes forward while waiting for her heart rate to steady. She had been the reason for his being brought up on court-martial charges? “You can’t be serious.”

“Remember Skidder?”

“The mechanic in phase dock?”

“When I didn’t return that night he told my CO, who was convinced I was having an affair with his wife. That’s all it took. He called me into his office two days after the blizzard blew itself out, threw the charges at me and said, ‘Major McCray, you have just made a dire mistake and I’m going to make sure you pay for it in spades.’”

“How is it that I never heard anything about this through the liaison officer? Wouldn’t Skidder have mentioned my involvement?”

“Oh, he tried. Skidder would do anything to weasel his way up the ladder.” He flashed her a brash grin. “But in the end, all the prosecutor could prove was that I got stuck off base in a blizzard after delivering you to the officers’ quarters.”

“But you didn’t deliver me there until the next morning.”

“They couldn’t prove that, either. The blizzard’s whiteout conditions and the power outage helped out there.”

“What about the owner of the saloon?”

“He testified that he locked the Mad Dog up when the power went out and went home.”

“You mean, he lied under oath?”

“When the military plays hard-ass with civilians, civilians don’t always play by their rules.”

“Were you having an affair with your CO’s wife?”

“Of course not. She was twenty years older than me. The whole trial was a fiasco and it made my CO look like an idiot, which didn’t improve our relationship much.”

Kate shot him a skeptical look, then shook her head and faced front again. “I didn’t know you were going through all that.”

“Would you have been less mad at me if you’d known?”

She stifled a wry laugh. “No, at the time probably not. I probably would’ve been glad you were paying for it. Sorry.”

He nodded, as if that was explanation enough for him. “I hope you like dogs,” he said as he turned down Pike’s Creek Road.

“I do. Why?”

“Thor’s been banned from the airstrip because he chases planes, so I’ll have to drop him at the cabin before bringing the part to Wally’s.” When they got to her rental car, he stopped just long enough to replace the repaired flat tire, then continued on. Where the road forked, he headed left and nodded to the right and said, “That way leads to the airstrip.” A few miles later, after passing two somewhat ramshackle dwellings, one of which looked long abandoned, the road ended at his cabin.

Kate had prepared herself for a plywood-and-tar-paper shack with blue tarps strung everywhere and rusted fifty-five-gallon drums lying about. She was surprised by the attractive complex of log buildings. There were several sturdy outbuildings in addition to the charming cabin, including an authentic log food cache raised high on four posts. The hand-hewn main cabin had dovetailed notches, a real stone chimney and a porch that practically hung out over the creek. The clearing itself was large, and a garden space was surrounded by a rustic staked fence fashioned from alder and willow poles, but it looked as though nothing had been planted inside for several seasons. There was a wonderful view of the rugged snowcapped mountain range, including the mighty Denali, who was still showing her face to the world.

“Is that a dogsled on the porch roof?”

“Yup. A dog musher used to live here. One day his wife decided she’d had enough of living the backwoods life with a bunch of sled dogs and a guy who was always out on the trail, so she left him, and after a few years he lost heart and got rid of all his dogs except Thor, who slipped out of his collar and ran off.” He wrenched open the truck door, jumped down and walked around to open her door. “He sold me the place for a song because I happened to ask him about it on the right day and then he followed his wife back to Florida. Thor reappeared a week later and decided to stay. It worked out well for me because it was so cheap and it’s only seven miles from the airstrip. Plus I got a sled dog thrown in for free. Nice, huh?”

“Yes,” she admitted. It wasn’t at all what she’d expected.

“Will you be okay here for a little while, or do you want to help me put a fuel filter in the plane?”

“I’ll be fine.” Again surprised by his manners, she took his hand and let him assist her out of the truck. He’d done the same thing back at the deli.

“I’ll give you the official tour when I get back, and we can talk then. Thor will keep the bears away. Help yourself to anything and everything and don’t mind the mess—I wasn’t expecting company. There’s a satellite phone in the kitchen, if you need to use it. Here, take your sandwich.” He fished her napkin-wrapped lunch of his jacket pocket and handed it to her. “Don’t just look at it, eat it.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” she said, stepping back and giving him a mock salute.

Kate watched him drive back down the rutted gravel road and wondered when he’d realize the dog was still riding in the back. Thor obviously preferred Mitch’s company, which was okay with her. She’d just have to deal with any bears that came along. Meanwhile, she’d prowl around the cabin and investigate the domestic side of Mitchell McCray.

CHAPTER THREE

MITCH WAS SURPRISED to see Wally’s Harley parked outside the warming shack. He must’ve had a fight with Campy, but it couldn’t have been a bad one because Campy’s old Subaru was parked right next to the shiny bike. Wally came out when he heard the truck and the first thing he said was “Where the hell you been all day?” as if he’d been working his ass off since before sunup.

“In Talkeetna, picking up the part for your plane, which, by the way, didn’t want to start this morning. Good to see you, too, boss. Didn’t expect to, being as it’s a Monday.”

“Polar Express called to thank us for the referral of the German climbers. Said they made a great tip off that one. I came over to see what was wrong.”

“Plane’s broke, as usual. That’s what was wrong.”

Wally was fiftysomething, bald, overweight and often-times contentious, but he could work wonders with the Stationair and was a passable pilot for a guy who was mostly self-taught. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with Babe. She started right up for me. Hand over the fuel filter.”

“How’d you know that was the part I went to get?”

“I’m psychic. Thought I told you to leave that damn dog at home.”

Mitch looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, Thor was standing with his front paws on the diamond-plate toolbox wearing that sly wolfish grin. “Thor, I thought I told you to stay the hell home!” Thor’s ears flattened back and he wagged his tail in response. Mitch looked back at Wally. “The bad news is, we lost a job this morning because of that clogged filter. The good news is, Raider called last night and said he’s seriously considering my latest offer for the Porter.”

“We can’t afford that plane. Thought we already had this discussion.” Wally was fishing in his pockets for a half-smoked cigar, which he stuck in his mouth and lit.

“Where’s Campy?”

“Inside.”

“Campy! Get out here, woman. I need you to bear witness. Wally’s changing his story on me again.”

The door to the airfield’s warming hut opened a crack and a thin face framed by bleached blond hair stuck out, cigarette dangling from pouty red lips. She looked to be in the same kind of mood as Wally. “Go to hell, Mitch, and take that bastard with you,” she snarled around the cigarette and slammed the door again.

“I told Raider I could have the money by next week,” Mitch said, as he followed Wally toward the plane. “If we called Yance, he’d front us the money, and if I had it in hand I know Raider’d except my offer. We could sell the Stationair and pay back some of that loan right away.”

“We ain’t selling Babe and we ain’t buying a Pilatus/Fairchild Porter. It’s a good plane, I’m not arguing with you on that score, but Raider wants too much for it. Thinks its a goddamn Concorde jet. Besides, Yance’ll tack a high interest on that loan if he’d even give it to us. He’s a friggin’ shark. Bottom line, we can’t afford it.”

“The price is fair and the plane’s in great shape. Dependable. Flying a plane like that will boost our business a hundredfold. You know it’s true and you know we need it, and I think Yance’ll back us, so just bite the bullet and get it over with.” Mitch jammed his hands in his jeans pockets, ducked his head and rounded his shoulders, hesitating. “Forget the plane for a minute and tell me what you think about this. This woman I knew over four years ago, Navy pilot, suddenly shows up out of the blue, and she…”

Wally stopped abruptly, turned and took the cigar out of his mouth. “K. C. Jones?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“It’s not rocket science. It was my saloon you wooed her in back at Eielson, and you showed us the article about her in Air Force magazine. She’s here, in Alaska?”

“She’s out at my place.”

“And you’re standing here, talking to me? You big dumb son of a bitch. Hey, Campy!” he bellowed toward the closed door of the warming hut. “You think I’m uncaring and heartless? Listen to how Mitch treats his women!”

“C’mon, Wally, cut me some slack,” Mitch said. “I need your advice.”

“Campy, you’re missing out. Mitchell McCray is asking for my input on a romantic matter.”

The warming hut door opened and Campy reemerged, dressed in tight hip-hugger jeans and a stretch Lycra top that barely concealed Wally’s two best friends. She slouched against the doorway with a frown. “Mitchell,” she drawled, “if you’re desperate enough to take advice from Wally about matters of the heart, I feel real sorry for whoever your latest girlfriend is.”

“It’s that hot Navy pilot who was written up in that air force magazine last fall,” Wally said. “Mitch showed it to us. Remember? She’s out at his place even as we speak.”

“No kidding?” Campy tossed her long blond hair back and took a drag of her cigarette, regarding Mitch through narrowed eyes. “If she looks as good in real life as she did on the cover of that magazine, you don’t want to be making any mistakes with her.”

“I just want to know why the hell she’s here,” he said. “Not a word of warning, she just lands on my doorstep. She must want something. I just don’t know what.”

“She wants you, Mitch,” Wally guffawed. “A career bachelor like you should know all the signals by now.”

“One thing’s for sure. It’s not your money she’s after.” Campy flicked the cigarette down and ground it out beneath one of her fancy, hand-tooled, black Tony Llama cowboy boots. “Tell you what. The two of you get that plane fixed and back in the air so we can all keep eating, and I’ll take Thor back to your cabin. That woman shouldn’t be there without a dog, not when the salmon are getting ready to run and the bears are walking that creek.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Mitch said.

“Campy’s got a point,” Wally said. “Might be good if she took the dog back to your place. They can meet each other and have some girl talk.”

“Girl talk?”

“Trust me, they thrive on that stuff, and Campy’ll find out more about where that woman’s coming from than you could in a whole year of beating around the bush.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Look, you wanna know why this chick showed up on your doorstep or not? Send Campy over. You’ll get the lowdown without all the dancing around.”

Campy gave Mitch’s arm a squeeze. “Hon, I hate more than you’ll ever know to say this, but this one time, Wally’s right. I’ll go scope things out.”

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Campy, but…”

“Hey, what are friends for? Keys in the truck?”

“Yeah, but…”

“You like this gal, or don’t you?”

Mitch ran his fingers through his hair. “I like lots of girls. I just don’t know why this one’s here, and I don’t want you playing matchmaker on my behalf.”

Campy gave him an innocent look. “What do you mean?”

“You’re always trying to pair me off, but I like bachelorhood just fine.”

“That’s only because you haven’t gotten to know the right woman yet.” Campy turned and walked away. When she reached the driver’s side door, she glanced back over her shoulder before hoisting herself into the cab. “Don’t look so worried, Mitch. I promise I’ll behave.”

KATE SPENT a half an hour just browsing through Mitch’s books after touring the comfortable, homey interior of the main cabin, which wasn’t nearly as messy as he’d warned her it would be. Aside from some clothing tossed over various pieces of rustic furniture, it was quite neat. His kitchen sink was empty of dishes, the counters were wiped down and the floor swept. His bedroom was in the loft and consisted of a double mattress laid on the bare wood floor with a down comforter over the top and a window that was opened wide to the outside air. The downstairs was one large room, the kitchen and living area divided by a big brick chimney that hosted a woodstove on one side and a fireplace on the other. The cavernous fireplace was on the living-room side, where the bookcase was located. Most of the books were paperbacks, some were hardcovers, and there was one magazine lying flat on the shelf: the Air Force magazine that featured her as the cover girl. She wondered at the man who had tucked that magazine among all those books by authors as diverse as Albert Einstein, Jack London and Thor Heyerdahl.

She ran her fingers over the gilt letters embossed into an old leather bound volume of poetry printed in 1876 and carried it with her onto the porch, where the sound of rushing water lulled her senses. She lowered herself into one of the comfortable Adirondack-style chairs and sat for a few moments, wondering if this was wise. She might very well fall asleep with that beautiful creek calming her and the sun’s warmth soaking into her. But what harm would a short nap do? Mitch wouldn’t be back for at least an hour, and it was so peaceful here.

She could easily imagine Hayden clattering down the porch steps with his fishing rod and his dog. This place was made for little boys to grow up in, and for dogs to keep them company while they did. She sighed and opened the book to a random page, trying but not quite able to imagine Mitch reading poetry. She scanned the first line of the chosen poem and before she could finish the second, a curious lethargy soaked through her bones. On impulse she removed her wig, relishing the feel of cool air and warm sun against her scalp.

She’d worn the wig in public since she was first discharged from the hospital after losing her hair. Her mother had handed her the box and said, “I thought you might want the option of wearing this until your own grows back. The hair’s real.”

Kate had opened the box, sure she’d be repulsed, but to please her mother she’d taken it out and put it on. Studying herself in the bathroom mirror she’d thought, Yes, this is much better. I like me much better this way. With the addition of the false eyelashes and a little eyebrow pencil, she looked almost normal. Healthy.

But she was all alone here, so she dropped the wig in her lap, tipped her head back, closed her eyes and let herself drift off to the sound of the water, wondering what her little boy would look like in ten years’ time….

Seconds later, it seemed, she was awakened by the sound of a truck door slamming. Kate sat bolt upright, blinking sleep from her eyes, and was still smoothing the wig into place when the stranger topped the porch steps. She’d expected Mitch and was shocked to see a very buxom bleached blonde dressed in clothes that left little to the imagination.

“Well, hey, hon,” the woman said in a smoky southern drawl. “I’m real sorry to startle you. Were you sleepin’?”

“Who…?”

“I’m Campy, a friend of Mitch’s, and I sure didn’t mean to wake you. I brought Thor back because he chases planes down the runway and Mitch was busy helping Wally fix the plane, that’s all. You just sit right where you are, all nice and relaxed, and I’ll be right back.” She retreated into the cabin and reappeared holding two bottles of Guinness Stout. She handed one to Kate and then dropped into the second chair. “Hope you like a bitter brew. That’s all Mitch ever drinks,” she said. “And I hope I didn’t startle you too bad. Sorry about that.”

“That’s okay,” Kate said, holding the cold bottle. “I must have dozed off. It’s so peaceful here.”

“Boring, I’d call it, but I guess it all depends on what you like. So, you’re the one Mitch calls K. C. Jones.”

Good God. Kate closed her eyes on the world for a few moments, wishing she could just disappear. Mitch had talked about her to this woman? “Is that what he calls me?”

She heard Campy settle herself more deeply in her chair, followed by the sharp snick of a lighter, and then smelled the acrid smoke of a cigarette. “Honey, you may not know this and I doubt he’ll ever tell you, but Mitch has a real soft spot for you.”

Kate opened her eyes and stared cynically at the other woman, whom she decided couldn’t be one of Mitch’s girlfriends if she was talking like that. She eased back in her chair and set the bottle of beer on the broad armrest. “That’s a little hard to believe, considering we haven’t seen each other in years.”

“Oh, Mitch would never admit to it. Tough guys don’t like gals to think they’re so easily roped and tied, but I used to be a bartender at the Mad Dog Saloon, which was a mile or so from the base. I served up a lot of brew to Mitch while he was stationed there, and hon, nobody hears more stories told from the heart than a bartender does. He talked about you a lot.”

“I can’t imagine what he talked about,” Kate said drily.

“Oh, he thought you were pretty special,” Campy said. “He’s a hard worker and a great pilot. I don’t know what Wally’d do without him. Wally owned the Mad Dog ’til it burned down, then he used the insurance money to buy a six-passenger plane and start the charter service. He’s a great mechanic but he can’t fly so good, so he hired Mitch to do most of that. My guy Wally is your guy’s boss.”

“He’s not my guy.”

“Well, if he isn’t, he oughta be. My opinion, of course. Mitchell’s always been a favorite of mine. If I didn’t have Wally, I’d go after Mitch myself, even though I’m a little too old for him. But he’s one in a million. I guess you know that, too, hon, or you wouldn’t be here, would you?”

“Oh, I’m sure he has a girlfriend. I didn’t come here thinking he’d been saving himself for me all these years.”

“I think he always hoped you’d show up here one day. Mitch has lots of friends, but none have come close to being serious relationships.”

“I’m surprised he even remembered me.”

“Remembered you? Hon, how else would I know he called you K. C. Jones?”

Kate gave her another skeptical look. “My real name’s Katherine Carolyn Jones.”

“Camilla Clarke,” she said, giving her a crooked smile. “Everyone around here calls me Campy. You like Alaska?”

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s boring,” she said. “I’d go back east in a minute, but Wally likes the flying here. Pilots are a crazy-ass bunch, no offense intended.”

“None taken.”

“I mean, I think it’s pretty cool, you being a Navy pilot and all. Mitch said you were an instructor at that dogfighting school the Navy has—like in Top Gun. Pretty wild stuff.”

“That was a good assignment. I got to be home every night with my son.”

Two carefully plucked and penciled eyebrows shot up. “You have a kid? Huh. He never told us that.” Campy studied her through a haze of cigarette smoke. “You married?”

“No.”

“How old’s your kid?”

“He’ll be four next month.”

“Hmm. Interesting.” Campy squinted her eyes and stared off across the river for a few moments, then glanced back at Kate with a knowing expression. “How long are you staying?”

“A week or so.”

“If I’d been smarter, that’s all I’d have stayed.” Campy drained the last of her beer and, pushing to her feet, she dropped her cigarette into the bottle and tossed the hair out of her eyes. “Mitch means a lot to me ’n’ Wally. I sure hope the two of you can work things out.”

BY THE TIME Campy drove his pickup back to the airfield, Mitch was pacing around the plane amidst mechanical noises and cuss words from beneath the plane’s cowling, while Wally growled for various tools to be passed to him.

Campy’d been gone a long time. What the hell could the two of them have been talking about? They had nothing in common. Campy was a fortysomething professional bartender who hadn’t graduated high school, couldn’t spell and liked to smoke, drink and ride on Wally’s Harley. Her one ambition in life was to train circus ponies. What kind of conversation could she have possibly been having with a career captain in the United States Navy? And finally, here she was, driving up to the warming hut with Thor in the back, his front feet braced on the diamond-plate toolbox cover and wearing his sly, wolfish grin.

Campy jumped out of the cab and turned to see what Mitch was gesturing at. “Damn you, Thor! I swear, Mitch, he was standing on the porch when I left. He must’ve chased after the truck and jumped in.” She approached the plane and tossed her hair out of her eyes. “Relax, hon, everything’s cool at your place. She’s reading poetry on your porch. My advice? Grill her a thick bloody steak for supper and serve it to her with red wine and hot kisses.” She ducked her head under the cowling. “Hey, lover, I’m headin’ to town to do a load of laundry. Can you manage here without me?”

“I’ll do my best,” Wally grunted.

“Hang on,” Mitch said. “She told you she was staying for supper and she wanted a thick steak?”

“Don’t forget the red wine and hot kisses. She’s nice, Mitch. I like her. How ’bout you, Wally—what’s your preference tonight?”

“Beer and burgers,” came the gruff reply.

“I’m on it, sweetie. See you soon.”

“Wait a sec,” Mitch said. “Did you find out why she’s here?”

Campy took one last fierce drag on her cigarette, tossed it down and ground it out. “She’s here to see you, you imbecile. She’s been missing you. How long’s it been?”

“Almost five years without so much as a phone call or a letter. That’s why her surprise appearance is so strange.”

“Maybe not as strange as you think.” Campy gave him a long, calculating stare. “Make sure that red wine comes in a bottle with a cork.”

Wally peered out from under the cowling as she walked toward her rusted-out Subaru. “What’d I tell you,” he said. “Girl talk. They love that stuff. Better pick up that steak at Yudy’s. They have the best beef and he’ll cut it nice and thick for you.” He waited a few moments, then scowled. “Well, what the hell you stallin’ for? Haven’t you kept her waiting long enough?”

“I don’t believe that’s why she’s here. I think there’s something else going on.”

“So what if there is? You gonna pass up the chance to get cozy with her? Go fix her that steak like Campy said.”

“I spent all my cash on the fuel filter.”

“Ah, shit.” Wally dug in his wallet, peeled out two twenty-dollar bills and handed them to Mitch. “That’s the last of mine. Make it count. Women are scarce in Alaska and hot ones like that are even scarcer.”

YUDY’S GENERAL STORE carried everything from self-tapping sheet metal screws to wedding gowns, and had the best meat counter in the state. It also had a fairly good wine selection and a huge block of select sharp cheddar, the kind that crumbled when it was cut, and with what Mitch had left over he was able to buy half a pound along with some fancy crackers. Forty bucks didn’t stretch very far at Yudy’s, but the groceries were worth it and tonight he wasn’t about to serve up boxed macaroni and cheese with a side of canned beans and a bottle of beer, the mainstays of his usual diet. No, tonight called for a special meal, a properly seductive prelude for what was sure to come after…otherwise she wouldn’t have told Campy she was staying for supper and that she’d been missing him.

He was still kind of puzzled about the real reason she was here, but Wally was right. He’d be a fool to pass up this opportunity, and the prospect of spending another night with the sexiest pilot in the Navy was enough to send his heart rate right off the scale. It didn’t matter anymore that she hadn’t read his letter. The hell with it. Seize the moment and run with it.

By the time he got back to the cabin, he’d figured out just how the night should proceed. He’d light the grill first, because it took awhile for the charcoal to get just right, then he’d open the wine and get the cheese-and-cracker thing going while the meat marinaded and he fixed the vegetables. Yudy had prepped him on that. “You’ll wanna grill your veggies. Ladies like that kind of stuff. Cut ’em however you like. Me, I like my peppers in quarters, some like ’em in halves. Onions the same way. Eggplant, mushrooms, potatoes, tomatoes, whatever trips your trigger. Coat ’em with olive oil and a pinch of herbs and grill ’em.”

Well, scratch the eggplant and mushrooms, he hated the things, but he bought a few nice fat tomatoes and brightly colored bell peppers to supplement the vegetables he knew he already had, and he could make a salad, too, and then…?

Then they’d eat. And whatever happened after that was up to the gods and the mountain, because the mountain played a big role in his life here. He might have to fly out at the drop of a hat to pick up climbers who were calling it quits or were sick or injured. Those calls happened frequently this time of year and they certainly could use the business. But barring the climbers, who knows where the night might end? Maybe she wouldn’t want to go back to the Moosewood. Maybe she’d opt to stay.

Maybe? Of course she would. That’s why she was here, wasn’t it? She’d spend two weeks’ worth of fabulous nights with him before flying away again, back to her Navy career. What could be better than a short-term relationship with a gorgeous, sexy woman, no strings attached?

As he parked the truck, Thor jumped out of the back and Mitch heard her greeting the useless beast. He grabbed the bags of groceries and climbed the porch steps after the dog. Kate was sitting in the late afternoon sunshine, book of poetry lying open in her lap, and she smiled when she saw him. Right then and there he forgot all about how great a two-week-long, no-strings-attached affair would be because she looked like she belonged, and she looked beautiful.

“Hey,” he said, caught off balance by his own reaction.

“Hey, yourself. How’d it go at the airfield?”

“Great. Got the plane fixed. What about you?”

“I didn’t do a thing. I sat on this porch and read poetry and then I had a nap.”

“That’s what a vacation’s all about. You hungry?”

“Getting there.” She folded the book shut and stood. “What can I do to help?”

“You can supervise.”

She followed him into the kitchen and leaned over the counter while he unpacked the bags of groceries. “It’s so peaceful here. I can see why you love it.”

He uncorked the bottle of wine, rummaged in the cupboard for the two wineglasses left behind by the lonesome musher and poured. “Hope you like red. It goes well with meat, or so I’m told. I’m mostly a beer drinker myself, and beer goes with everything.” He handed her the glass and she smiled at him again. His heart did something that made him lose his breath and remember the night they’d had together, the night he’d spent years trying to forget.

“Thanks.” She took a sip and then watched while he organized the meal, or tried to. It was hard to do anything while she stood there. “Your friend Campy stopped by in your truck to deliver the dog, but Thor chased her down the road when she left. I don’t think she realized he was following her.”

“No, she didn’t.” He unwrapped the thick tenderloin, laid it on a platter and poured the marinade Yudy had recommended over it. “Thor jumped aboard, probably in that rough section a quarter mile from here, and rode to the airstrip in the back of the truck. But it was quiet there today, not much traffic. He didn’t get in any trouble or cause any crashes.”

“Has he caused crashes before?”

“Yup. Two.” Mitch piled all the vegetables into a colander and pumped water over them in the sink. That old-fashioned hand pump sure beat carrying water from the creek.

“What happened?”

“Both pilots tried to avoid him and went off the airstrip. One hit a bunch of willows, not much damage, just a few scratches, but the other bent a prop and we had to replace it. Wally swore he’d shoot the dog if he ever showed up at the airstrip again, but that was before Campy had the run-in with that brown bear and Thor saved her ass. Big vet bill, he was all torn up, but Campy told Wally that dog belonged here and if he shot the dog, she’d shoot him.”

“This sounds like a happening place,” Kate remarked with a smile.

“You betcha. Never a dull moment out here in the bush.” He took a knife out of the block, laid the cutting board on the counter and began slicing up the vegetables. “You like yellow and green bell peppers, scallions, potatoes, tomatoes and carrots?”

“I love any and all vegetables. Shouldn’t you start the grill?”

“Oh, yeah, forgot about that part. Here, you slice while I get that thing fired up.”

“Mitch?” He glanced over his shoulder and the way she was looking at him made his heart do that weird somersault thing again and he could hardly catch his breath. Damn, was he having some kind of coronary? “Thanks for asking me to supper,” she said. “And I really am sorry I never read your letter.”

KATE WAS SORRY in so very many ways that her feelings of remorse nearly overwhelmed her. As she watched Mitch through the cabin door while he got the grill started, then watched him laying cheese and crackers onto a chipped china plate with little roses along its border, she knew that she’d made a terrible mistake in not reading that letter he’d sent. She’d made a terrible mistake in not telling him about Hayden the moment she’d found out herself. How was she going to right these wrongs without making them worse? What would be his reaction when he found out that he’d had a son for the past four years? How could she possibly bring the subject up in a calm and logical way?

Right after Campy had left that afternoon, she’d called the Moosewood on Mitch’s satellite phone. “I’m out at Mitch’s place and he’s fixing a plane so I’m not sure when I’ll be back,” she told Rosa. “How’s Hayden?”

“Oh, he’s fine, señora. The owner of this nice place took us snipe hunting today.”

“Snipe hunting? What’s a snipe?”

“Some kind of bird they shoot and eat here, but it was a joke, I think. The man, he had us carry empty coffee cans and bang on them with spoons. He said the birds would fly into the cans. Of course, they didn’t, but Hayden loved it.”

“Did you have lunch?”

“Sì, a very good lunch and Hayden is napping. He has been outside all morning. This is good for him. How about you, señora? How does it go for you?”

“So far, so good. If I don’t get back until late, don’t worry. I haven’t told him about Hayden yet, but I’m going to. I just have to pick the right time.”

“I understand, señora. Good luck.”

It seemed that Rosa was saying that more and more often. Was it luck Kate needed, or nerve? She had only a few days to tell Mitch he had a son and the sooner she broached the subject, the better. What if he flipped out at the idea? What if he met Hayden and didn’t like him? But how could anyone not like Hayden? Besides, when Mitch saw him for the first time, he was sure to recognize himself in that little boy’s grin, the mischievous flash of his eyes, the arrogant know-it-all attitude that yes, even a three-year-old can possess. He was sure to take one look at Hayden and know without her saying anything that he was looking at his own son.

She glanced up from slicing the vegetables as Mitch came back into the kitchen from checking on the grill. “This is such a great place for kids. I’m surprised you aren’t married by now, with a whole bunch of them stampeding around.”

He lifted his wineglass for a taste. “This cabin isn’t big enough for a whole bunch. Besides, a wife and kids have never been a high priority for me. I tried that once and it didn’t work. Marriage, that is. Fortunately, there were no kids.”

“You don’t like kids?” Kate asked with a twinge of unease.

“I think they deserve better than two parents trapped in a bad marriage. Besides, if anyone else moved in here on a permanent basis, I’d have to build an addition.” He regarded her steadily for a moment, long enough for her to feel a warmth flowing through her that had nothing to do with a fever. “I suppose I could do that,” he added. “I guess I’d just need the right motivation.”

Kate dropped her eyes to scoop the vegetables into the bowl he’d provided. She drizzled them with olive oil and tossed them together.

“Motivation,” he continued. “That’s the key. A man has to be motivated in order to accomplish great things, whereas a woman self-motivates naturally. She knows what she has to do and just goes ahead and does it.”

“Oh? And what does a woman know she has to do, naturally?” Kate felt herself instantly bristling at his words, the same way she’d bristled her way through ten years of Navy life.

“She knows she has to nurture and comfort and create. A woman is the heart of any home, and a man needs a woman to motivate him to build that home.

“That’s a crock, McCray. I didn’t join the service to nurture, comfort and create, and I don’t feel obliged to motivate any man to do anything.”

“No, of course not, I’m not saying you did or do or should…. I guess I’m just trying to say that the major difference between a man and a woman… That is to say, one of the major differences is…” He paused and gave her a cautious look. “I’d better go check the fire again.”

Kate held up the bowl of vegetables. “Grilling basket?”

“Look under the counter. You might find something useful, but I’ve never grilled vegetables before. I usually just wrap them in foil and lay them in the coals.”

“Nurture, comfort and create?” She couldn’t resist another jab at his chauvinism.

“I take it all back, every last word, and forget I ever mentioned motivation.”

“I suppose you’re the type who prefers their women pregnant, barefoot and in the kitchen?”

He escaped out the door and was gone long enough for her to conclude there was nothing like a grilling basket in the kitchen. She did find the aluminum foil, however, and made do with that, carrying both the foil-wrapped vegetables and her glass of wine out onto the porch. Mitch was standing over the grill with a long-handled fork, poking occasionally at the coals. “No grilling basket, I see,” he said.

“This’ll work if you like soggy vegetables.”

“Soggy vegetables are my favorite.” He took them from her and laid the packet on the edge of the grill.

Kate leaned against the porch railing with a grudging smile. “So tell me what happened after you got out of the air force.”

He narrowed his eyes, thinking back. “That’d be about three years ago. I took a job flying for a commercial carrier. Turned out to be boring as hell—passenger jet service between Anchorage and Seattle. Like driving a bus on the same route every day. I lasted only a year at that. I might have held out longer, but Wally looked me up and convinced me it was time to make the switch.” He nudged the foil packet closer to the coals and it started to hiss. “After the Mad Dog burned, he held on to the insurance money, but rather than rebuild it he decided to start up an air charter service near Denali to ferry mountain climbers, hunters and sightseers around. At first I turned him down because flying for the airlines gave me a steady paycheck, but the second time he asked I jumped at the chance and here I am, borderline broke.”

“But happy?”

“Oh, hell, yes. My long-term plan is to buy Wally out when he gets ready to retire and change the name of the charter to Arctic Air, but that’ll only happen if we can keep the business alive, and that’ll only happen if he goes along with buying this plane I have my eye on. It’s a Pilatus/Fairchild Porter. Hot plane. Expensive.” He turned to her. “So what was in all the letters you never sent me over the past four years?”

“There’s not much to tell that wasn’t in that article,” Kate responded with an offhand shrug. “I was offered permanent shore duty when my son was born, I got promoted, did a lot of recruiting PR with the colleges, then got lucky and landed an instructor pilot position at the Navy Fighter Weapons School.”

“Lady, in case you didn’t know it, that wasn’t luck. Only the best of the best end up there. The flying must’ve been great.”

Kate took a small sip of wine, surprised that the idea of never flying like that again was still so painful to her after everything else she’d been through. “It was,” she admitted. “I got to play bad guy in the air with some of the hottest young pilots in the fleet, but even better than that, I changed a lot of old-fashioned attitudes toward women in the military every time I worked with a new class.”

“That had to have been the hardest lesson for them to learn.”

“That women can do more than nurture, comfort and create?”

He raised both his hands in a mute gesture of surrender. “I’ll get the steak. The coals are just about ready and it doesn’t take long for the veggies to cook.” He disappeared inside and reappeared carrying the platter with the marinating steak, Thor padding at his heels, his yellow gaze never wavering from the prize. “How do you like yours cooked?”

“Medium rare, but it looks like Thor would take his just the way it is.”

“The only way he’ll taste this steak is in his dreams.” The meat went onto the grill with a loud hiss and savory plume of smoke. “This’ll attract every bear in Alaska, but don’t worry. Thor won’t let ’em within a mile of the porch.”

Kate glanced around, reasonably sure he was kidding, though she wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised to see a grizzly hulking through the thick willows along the riverbank. She was glad Thor was with them, standing guard.

“Must’ve been tough for you, raising a kid and flying at the top of the curve,” Mitch said, turning the packet of vegetables.

“It would’ve been, if I hadn’t found Rosa,” Kate admitted. “She was taking care of my neighbor’s three kids, and when he got his transfer orders, Rosa wouldn’t go with them. She didn’t want to leave California. I’d just taken two months of maternity leave and wanted to get back in the swing of things, so the timing was great for both of us. I lucked out and so did Hayden. She’s been wonderful with him.”

Mitch poked at the steak then reached for his wineglass. He took a swallow and then lowered it, trapping her with those eyes that even after more than four years still had the power to easily seduce her. She wanted to look away but couldn’t.

“Tell me why you never read my letter,” he said.

“I’d rather not talk about that right now.”

“I’m thinking whatever you were so mad about has to have something to do with that night at the saloon, and that’s also why you snuck off on me that way. No note. No nothing. You jumped in your plane and flew back to California without so much as a goodbye. So tell me what I did that was so awful.”

She shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

Kate felt her heart rate instantly double as the heat of embarrassment flushed through her. How could she explain it to him when she didn’t fully understand it herself? “It wasn’t you. I was mad at myself for going to a bar with someone I didn’t even know, and then…” Her voice faltered and she fell silent.

His gaze never wavered. “As I recall, we were properly introduced beforehand.”

“I was mad at myself for going…and at you for fixing those drinks.”

“As I recall, you polished off the first one without complaint and then asked me to mix you another.”

Kate frowned. “I did no such thing.”

“Whoa.” He set his wineglass back down, his expression wary. “Back up a step. You asked me to fix you another drink, and I did. I wasn’t trying to get you drunk so I could take advantage of you. I’ve never done that with a woman.”

“So you say.”

“Is that what this is all about? You were mad at me because I mixed you two drinks and you were mad at yourself because all of a sudden your sex drive kicked into high gear after years of being repressed by life on board an aircraft carrier? That’s why you never read my letter? Is that what you came back here to tell me?”

“Not exactly,” Kate said, but he was too worked up to listen.

“You had me half undressed before you even finished that second drink,” he said. “Remember now?”

Kate’s cheeks burned. “That’s because of the large amounts of alcohol you obviously put in my glass.”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t the alcohol that caused you to let down your hair. It was the adrenaline pumping through your system after that flight from Adak. It was the blizzard and the wind and the snow and the fire in the woodstove. It was all those things combined, but most of all, it was you and me, Kate. You and me. Call it chemistry, call it whatever you want, but you can’t deny it. We were great together.” He took a step closer and startled her by reaching out a hand to brush the hair back from the side of her face. “I can feel that chemistry even now. Can’t you?”

She closed her fingers around his wrist to still his hand, terrified that he’d discover she was wearing a wig. “Mitch, I didn’t come here to explain why I never read your letter. I came because I have something important to talk to you about.”

Rebuffed, he stepped back when she released his hand and gave her a curt nod. “So, talk.”

Kate was riveted by the intensity of his gaze. She knew it was now or never, and she felt a pressure building up within herself that made it hard to breathe. Her heart beat a painful cadence as she struggled to find the right words. So many unknowns loomed ahead of her. She could only hope this one turned out well, both for Hayden’s sake, and for hers.

“You’d better turn the steak first,” she said, taking hold of her glass of wine and damning herself for her cowardice. “This could take awhile.”

CHAPTER FOUR

MITCH REALIZED that they were standing toe-to-toe like dueling partners, which wasn’t what he’d had in mind when he planned this barbecue. The way things were going, she wouldn’t be spending the night up in his loft, and he kind of had his heart set on that scenario. He turned away from her and gave his attention to the food cooking on the grill, fuming inwardly. Damn, but she was hard to read. What was she trying to tell him that was so vital? Was she going to accuse him of putting some kind of date rape drug in her drinks? As he turned the meat, the pager on his belt sounded. He silenced it with a muttered curse.

“Sorry. That’s the boss,” he explained. “Bad timing. I better call Wally and find out what’s up.”

Kate moved to the porch railing to watch the water rush past while he went into the kitchen to retrieve the satellite phone. He carried it back out and dialed, then, while he waited for the call to go through, he poked the steak with the tongs, taking out his frustration on the expensive piece of meat until someone picked up on the other end.

“Hey, boss, what’s up?” He glanced across the creek toward the mountain range while he listened to Wally explain. Four climbers, one injured badly, winds so high on the mountain that nobody else was flying. Mitch’s initial reaction to this was disappointment, then he glanced at Kate. She was standing with her back to him, and her shoulders were set in a militant line. Whatever it was she was working herself up to tell him, it wasn’t going to be pretty. In retrospect, maybe now would be a good time for him to bail.

“We still have a couple hours of good daylight and the Stationair’s ready to rock and roll, right? That’ll be good money, especially if they want a lift into Fairbanks. We have a bank payment due on the plane and another one to buy. Radio them to hang tight, boss, I’m on my way.”

He ended the call and gave Kate what he hoped was an apologetic look. “Four climbers requesting a flight out of base camp, one needs immediate medical attention. Increasing winds are predicted on the mountain through tomorrow, so it’s now or never. A high-risk rescue means great money. It also means we can’t share supper. Sorry about that.”

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