Callie, Get Your Groom. Julianna Morris
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when she’s come all this way to help us out, would you?”
“It’s not that I don’t want her,” Mike said, sounding so utterly frustrated that Callie almost felt sorry for him. “Of course I want her.”
Though it didn’t mean anything…romantic, the words sent a pleasant warmth through her body. She’d had boyfriends before—she’d tried to put Mike out of her mind by dating other men. A long time ago she’d even gotten engaged, more out of affection and friendship than love. They would have had a good marriage, too, if Keith hadn’t died in a car accident.
For an instant, regret dimmed Callie’s excitement. She’d genuinely cared for Keith, only, there hadn’t been any spark. No heat. Nothing to equal what she felt just thinking of Mike…and of the one time he’d kissed her.
Boy. It had happened the night of his college graduation, and he’d been so drunk, he didn’t even remember that kiss. Callie pushed all distracting thoughts from her mind and hardened her heart. Vamps didn’t let anything get in their way. They moved in and got what they wanted.
“You’re kind to offer,” she said with seeming reluctance. “But I’d better stay with Donovan.”
“No, you won’t.” Mike split a glare between them that could have fried eggs. “You’re my responsibility. Where is your luggage?”
“Well…okay. It’s in the plane.”
Muttering beneath his breath, he collected the three suitcases she’d brought and stomped toward his vehicle.
“That was gracious,” Callie murmured reflectively. “I hope he remembers I go along with the luggage.”
Donovan chuckled. “Poor guy. He doesn’t have a chance, does he?”
“Why, Mr. Masters, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure.”
They watched as Mike threw the suitcases in the back of the Dakota with more force than necessary. Then he slammed shut the truck door and leaned against the fender, impatiently tapping his foot. Callie swallowed.
What had she talked herself into?
Michael Fitzpatrick wasn’t a boy anymore. The muscled lines of his tall body were from hard work. His hair was still brown, though she’d detected a few threads of silver. For a moment, uncertainty filled her, because Mike was more like a stranger than a friend. For all her talk of growing up together, the three years separating them made a big difference.
She was thirty-one now. Hardly a kid. Mike was thirty-four. High time he got married and started a family. High time she got married and started a family. She just needed to find out if they were going to be the two halves of a single equation. It was one thing to fantasize about the boy you’d grown up loving, and quite another to discover if you still loved the man he’d become.
It hadn’t seemed so urgent until she’d turned thirty; then she’d started imagining being alone the rest of her life. No kids. No husband. No Mike. When the trip to Alaska had come up she’d leapt at the opportunity.
“Here goes nothing,” she mumbled, squaring her shoulders and heading toward the truck.
“You can still stay with me,” Donovan offered.
“Separate beds?” she teased, comfortable with the charming pilot in a way she’d never been comfortable with Mike. Love and sex appeal certainly complicated relationships.
“Only if you insist.”
She laughed and kept walking.
Mike watched Callie smiling and flirting with Donovan and he clenched his fists. It wasn’t his concern if she wanted to get burned. But he’d warn her about the risks, the same way he’d warn Elaine.
“I’ll see you tonight,” she called back, waving goodbye to the other man.
“Six sharp. Don’t dress, unless you think it’s absolutely necessary,” Donovan replied with a wink.
Mike growled. He actually heard it, rumbling from his chest. A date? She’d already made a date?
“You’re going out with him? I thought you came to manage the office,” he said when she reached the Dakota. “To help us out. Our regular manager is having a baby, so she can’t come in when you’re not available.”
“Yes.” A catlike smile curved her lips.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I came to manage the office, but it isn’t a twenty-four-hour-a-day job. I can manage a little socializing between shuffling papers.”
Mike sighed. They both knew managing the Triple M office required more than shuffling some paper. Callie was getting back at him for doubting her ability. Hell, at least she was better than nothing. They’d gotten the office into a real tangle since losing Delia, and now Delia was hinting she wouldn’t return at all.
That’s what getting pregnant did to a woman. They wanted to stay home and take care of their kids, and never mind the desperate men they deserted. Maybe it wouldn’t matter someplace else, but it wasn’t easy finding a replacement in Kachelak. That was one of the drawbacks of establishing their headquarters away from the higher-population centers, like Fairbanks or Anchorage.
“Never mind,” he said, opening the door of the Dakota for Callie. “I was just trying to warn you about Donovan. He’s a confirmed bachelor.”
“No kidding?”
Mike walked around to the driver’s side of the vehicle. “This isn’t a joke, Callie. Donovan’s a great guy, but as soon as he thinks you’re serious he’ll be out the door faster than you can blink.”
“Oh?” She lifted one delicate eyebrow. “Who’s to say I won’t be the one out the door?”
In the process of fastening his seat belt, Mike gaped. Callie sounded serious, as though she engaged in lighthearted affairs all the time. Which he knew wasn’t true. That is, he was pretty sure it wasn’t true. She couldn’t get away with acting uninhibited, not in Crockett, Washington. Crockett was a nice little town, but it certainly wouldn’t tolerate the preacher’s daughter running around with a lot of different men. Besides, she wasn’t that kind of woman.
So he told her so.
“What did you say?” she gasped, sparks leaping from her green eyes.
“I said you weren’t that kind—”
“I know what you said. For your information, I’ve had plenty of men interested in me. You’re insulting. Just because my father’s a preacher, that doesn’t make me the antidote to romance.”
How the hell had he gotten into this?
“I didn’t mean to say you weren’t desirable,” Mike soothed. Her glare indicated she wasn’t soothed, or even mildly appeased. “But you’re…uh…a nice girl.”
“Nice? That tears it. I’m staying with Donovan. Nobody calls me nice.”
Mike took a deep breath. “That was a compliment…and you’re not staying with Donovan.”
“Some compliment. How would you like me to say you’re a nice man?”
The question threw him. Certainly, it was death to a man’s ego to be called nice. Nice was boring. Nice was a sucker’s description. As soon as a woman called a man “nice,” he could hear the death knell coming. A man wanted to be big, bad and a little dangerous.
Not nice.
Damn. He’d never imagined a woman would feel the same way, especially Callie.
“Okay, you’re not nice.” Now that hadn’t come out right, either, and he could guess what she’d say about his awkward attempt to apologize.
“Thank you.”