Alaska Home. Debbie Macomber
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might worry. I had a long talk with him, but I’m not sure he understood.”
“I promise we’ll remember,” Sawyer told him solemnly.
“Good.” Scott looked relieved and disappeared.
Sawyer gently patted Abbey’s protruding stomach. “This time alone will be good for us,” he told her, his eyes serious. “After the baby arrives, everything will change.”
Abbey knew her husband was right, but it would be a wonderful kind of change. So far the pregnancy had caused her almost no trouble, physically or emotionally. No morning sickness, no drastic mood swings. She loved Scott and Susan with a ferocity only a mother could understand, but their pregnancies had drained her. It was different with Sawyer’s baby. The comfort of his love, the assurance that he’d move heaven and earth on her behalf, eased her worries.
“Mom!” Susan screeched from the hallway. “Should I pack my Bible?”
Abbey sighed and pressed her forehead against Sawyer’s shoulder. “I’d better go supervise those two.” She called to the kids that she’d be there in a minute.
“I’ll finish up here,” Sawyer said, gathering the rest of the towels from the dryer.
“Sawyer.”
When he turned around, she leaned forward and kissed him with a hunger they generally reserved for the bedroom.
A low rumble of arousal came from her husband as she started to leave. Sawyer caught her hand. “What was that all about?”
She offered him a saucy smile. “Just a sample of what’s available later.”
“How much later?”
Abbey smiled again and stroked his face. “As soon as the kids are gone, you and I can pick up where that left off.” She walked out of the laundry room, but not before she noticed Sawyer staring at his watch, calculating the hours before they’d be alone.
* * *
Allison Reynolds was as beautiful as Christian remembered. Even more so. Heads turned when they walked into the five-star restaurant. He’d never realized how much a beautiful woman could improve a man’s image and raise his self-esteem. He had no doubt that he was the envy of every man there. Any vague, nagging thoughts about superficial values or shallow choices were easy enough to suppress.
He hadn’t been in the Seattle hotel five minutes before he made a point of phoning Allison. He’d made another phone call, too, but this one was to Hard Luck. He’d had to call Mariah regarding a variety of subjects, all of them business-related.
It might have been his imagination, but her greeting had seemed decidedly cool. He wasn’t sure what to make of her chilly tone, but whatever the problem, Sawyer could handle it. As for him, he was taking a well-deserved break from the office. He was willing to admit privately that his business dealings in Seattle, however necessary, were a pretext; his primary reason for coming here had to do with the beauty on his arm.
“I have a reservation for seven o’clock,” Christian informed the maître d’.
Allison smiled up at him sweetly, and it was all he could do to pull his gaze away. He’d been mildly surprised by her dress; short and slinky, it revealed every curve of her luscious body. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. But the front was deeply cut, and that appeared to bring her a lot of unwanted attention—unwanted, at least, by him. He was the one buying her dinner, and he wasn’t all that pleased to be sharing her, even vicariously, with anyone else.
“This way,” the man said, tucking two menus under his arm. The restaurant had been one of Mariah’s recommendations, and she’d chosen well. He’d have to thank her when he returned. The dim interior suited him perfectly. Lights from the waterfront shimmered on the glass-smooth surface of Elliott Bay. A ferry sailed in the distance, its lights blazing.
“This place is great,” Allison said once they were seated.
“My secretary chose it.” He had to stop himself from telling Allison about Mariah. The stories would have them both in stitches, but he didn’t want to spend the evening thinking about Mariah. Although her lack of friendliness earlier today continued to nag at him...
Allison leaned forward. “I’m so glad you found someone else to work for you. Personally I can’t imagine anyone lasting more than a day or two in that desolation.”
Desolation. The Arctic? Hard Luck? Why, it was one of the most beautiful places on earth! Give him home any day of the week over the smog and traffic of the big city. Even a city as pleasing to the eye as Seattle. The noise alone had kept him awake most of the night. Street sounds had reverberated from the cluttered avenues and echoed against the skyscrapers. And in his expensive hotel, he’d heard the elevator and laughter in the halls and the TV next door. No wonder he felt suddenly tired and let down.
Christian roused himself. “What would you like?” he asked, studying the menu. He made his choice quickly. Blackened salmon, one of his favorites.
Allison’s huge blue eyes met his. “I’m watching my diet, you know.”
She seemed to be waiting for him to tell her she was perfect as she was and that dieting would be ridiculous. Christian didn’t. He’d never understood what it was about women and their weight. They seemed to feel it was a topic men found fascinating. Well, he, for one, found it boring. Nor did he think someone like Allison needed to fish for compliments.
“I’ll have a salad,” she said sweetly. “No dressing. You’d never guess how many grams of fat there are in salad dressing. Someone told me just the other day that it would be less fattening to eat a hot fudge sundae than to put dressing on lettuce. Can you imagine?”
Christian smiled benignly.
The waiter came for their order, and Allison took five minutes to give hers. She explained precisely how she wanted her salad. He’d never met a woman who requested sliced cucumbers on the side. And that wasn’t all—she had to have her radishes cut a certain way and only on one half of the salad. He was impressed that the waiter could write it all down and keep a straight face.
While Allison was giving her detailed instructions, the memory of his dinner with Mariah at the Sourdough Café came to mind. There’d been no talk of salad ingredients with her. Nor did she drag him into ridiculous conversations about grams of fat and hot fudge sundaes.
Unfortunately the dinner conversation didn’t improve. Allison discussed the color of her fingernail polish in great detail. When Christian introduced another topic, she found a way of immediately bringing it back to herself and telling him about a new skin cream on the market.
It became something of a game, watching her manipulate the conversation to reflect her own interests—such as they were. Not once did she ask about the people she’d met on her brief trip to Hard Luck.
“Oh, I’ve got a new job now,” she said casually when he mentioned her old one. “Actually this is the second job I’ve had in the past year.”
Christian nodded in seeming interest, and she went on, “When I met you I was working for Pierce. He was a friend of my old boyfriend, Cary. But after I got back from Hawaii and went to see you, Pierce said he needed someone he could depend on. He didn’t like me taking vacation time.” She pursed her lips slightly. “He didn’t even pay me for my days off.”
“How long did you work for Pierce?”
“About a month.”
“A month. You didn’t have any vacation time due you.”
“That’s what Pierce said. Only he sounded really mad. You know, some men aren’t very nice. I worked for him one full month and his benefits were lousy.”
Christian found it difficult to follow Allison’s conversation from that point forward. Several times she brought up names he didn’t know and didn’t care to know. Instead, his thoughts drifted to the year before, when he’d