Alaska Home. Debbie Macomber
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picked up her suitcase and hurried after him. “I want you to know how much I appreciate this,” she said, holding on to the case with both hands. She didn’t understand why Christian had insisted on doing this himself, especially when it was so obvious that he considered it an imposition.
Because of the heavy suitcase, she couldn’t keep pace with him. Eventually he seemed to realize this. He glanced at her over his shoulder, and then, without a word, turned back and took the suitcase from her hands.
“What did you pack in here, anyway? Rocks?”
She didn’t bother to answer.
When they reached the plane, Christian helped her inside. He stowed her bag, then joined her in the cockpit. She was surprised by how small and intimate the space was; their shoulders touched as Christian worked the switches and revved the engine.
Mariah snapped her seat belt in place and gazed anxiously at the threatening sky. She wondered if she should tell Christian she wasn’t all that keen on flying. She found small planes especially difficult. Give her a Boeing 767 any day of the week over a tiny, little Luscombe.
For the sake of peace, she gritted her teeth and said nothing. No need to hand him further ammunition.
The ever-darkening sky didn’t bode well. Mariah noted that Christian was watching it closely. He radioed Fairbanks and wrote down the necessary weather information.
“Is there any chance we’ll run into a storm?” she asked once they’d started to taxi down the gravel runway.
She expected him to make light of her concern, but he didn’t. “According to the flight controller, we should be able to fly above the worst of it. Don’t worry, I’ll get you to Fairbanks on time.”
Or die trying, Mariah mused darkly. She gritted her teeth again and held on for dear life as the single-engine furiously increased its speed. Soon they were roaring down the runway, and at what seemed the last possible second, the plane’s nose angled toward the sky and the wheels left the ground.
As soon as they were airborne, Mariah relaxed slightly. The flight would take the better part of an hour, possibly a bit longer, depending on the winds.
Within a few minutes, they were swallowed up by the unfriendly clouds. Mariah couldn’t see two feet in front of them, but that might have been just as well.
Trying to relieve her tension, she closed her eyes.
“If you feel yourself getting sick,” Christian said, “let me know.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him.
“Your eyes are closed.”
“I know.” Her fingers gripped the edge of the seat cushion as she concentrated on breathing evenly.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to look!” she snapped.
Christian chuckled and seemed to enjoy her discomfort. “I haven’t crashed in more than a year,” he teased. “But now that you mention it, I’m probably due for a big one.”
Suddenly the plane began to pitch first to one side, then the other.
“Don’t, please,” Mariah begged.
“I’m not doing this on purpose,” Christian muttered.
Mariah opened her eyes and saw that he was actually struggling to maintain control. “I’m trying to get us above the clouds. Don’t worry, everything’s well in hand.”
The plane pitched sharply to the right and she swallowed a gasp. Although she’d flown in small planes a number of times since coming to work for Midnight Sons, she remained nervous about it—more than ever now, when they were flying directly into a storm.
“Are you all right?” Christian asked a minute later.
“Just fly the plane,” she said over the noise of the engine.
“You’re pale as a sheet,” he said.
“Stop worrying about me.”
“Listen,” he returned, “I’m not going to be able to fly the plane and revive you.”
“If I pass out—” she squeezed her eyes shut “—don’t worry about me.”
The plane heaved. She gasped aloud and covered her face with both hands.
“Mariah,” Christian said gently. “Everything will be fine in a few minutes. Trust me.” He patted her arm reassuringly.
Usually when he spoke to her, Christian was impatient or sharp. Half the time she wasn’t even sure what crime she was supposed to have committed. But for reasons she’d probably never understand, today, when she needed it most, he’d chosen to reveal this softer side.
Judging by the feel of the plane, Mariah knew they were increasing altitude. Within minutes they’d be above the squall and everything would be fine. Just as he’d promised.
“You can look now,” Christian told her.
She splayed her fingers and peeked through. Bright sunlight greeted her, and she sighed deeply, relaxing in her seat. The weather couldn’t be more perfect.
They traveled in silence for a while.
“Does your boyfriend know you don’t like to fly?” Christian’s question startled her.
“My boyfriend?” she asked, genuinely perplexed until she remembered that he’d seen her with Duke.
“In case you’re interested, lover boy made quite a stink when I told him he wouldn’t be flying you into Fairbanks.” The disapproval was back in Christian’s voice.
Mariah looked out the side window. “No matter what you think, Duke and I are not involved.”
“Yeah, that’s what he said, too.” The skepticism in his voice was plain.
“It’s the truth,” she insisted.
“Duke claims you kissed him.”
He appeared to be waiting for her to deny or confirm the statement. “I did—in a manner of speaking.”
Christian snorted a laugh. “I’ll say. You seem to forget I walked in on the two of you with your lips locked.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Mariah said heatedly. “I’d been on the phone with Tracy—”
“On company time?”
“Yes,” she admitted reluctantly. He could dock her pay if he wanted.
“Go on,” he encouraged.
“Tracy and Duke don’t get along.”
Christian laughed again. “That’s putting it mildly.”
“She, Tracy, thought it would be fun if I kissed Duke and said it was from her, and that’s what I did. It was all teasing—a joke.”
Christian didn’t comment.
“Do you believe me?” she asked. It was important that he do so. They had their differences, but trust was a vital factor in any relationship, whether it was work or personal.
“Yeah,” Christian admitted grudgingly, “I guess I do. But you should know something in case you have any, uh, romantic feelings for Duke. He’s got a girlfriend in Fairbanks. And he swore to me he’s a one-woman man—one at a time, anyway.”
“It doesn’t matter to me how many girlfriends Duke’s got.” Although Mariah was surprised. This was the first she’d heard of Duke being romantically involved with anyone. But then, he was a private person and not inclined to share such things with her.
Just when she’d finally relaxed enough to be comfortable, they approached Fairbanks. As soon as the plane descended into the clouds,