Breakaway

“No, thank you.”

He picked up his napkin and neatly spread it over his lap when he reseated himself. “You’re annoyed with me.”

“I’m annoyed with you, with Frank, with me, with my grandfather for hiring such a creep.”

“I know.”

She fiddled with the stem of her wineglass. “What he said about me—”

She’d thought his eyes were the sexiest thing about him, but now that he was smiling at her so intimately, as though they shared secrets the rest of the world could never understand, she changed her mind. His smile was his sexiest attribute. “Please. I’m not stupid. You’re a beautiful woman. He ever give you trouble?”

“He said a couple of inappropriate things. Nothing I couldn’t ignore. Why?”

“Because if he did I’d have to rethink my earlier restraint.”

A sound of frustration emerged from her throat. “You are from another century.”

“Perhaps. Please join me in dessert.”

“I never eat it. I’ll have coffee.”

“Fine.”

When they were finished and he’d shaken off her offer to buy dinner as though it were an insult, she rose. “Thank you so much for dinner,” she said.

“You’re welcome.” He walked out of the restaurant with her. She greeted people she knew as she passed, embarrassed that they’d all witnessed her encounter with Frank.

Max held the door that led to the gravel parking lot out front. And followed her through it.

She turned to him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m seeing you to your car.”

“You’re very old-fashioned.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Spruce Bay was far enough north that even at nine-thirty at night the sun hadn’t set. There was plenty of light, making it easy to see the word SLUT scrawled with a finger in the dust on the Yukon’s back window.

“Guess we need to wash the car more often,” she said, digging in her bag for a tissue. Max was ahead of her, pulling a cotton handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping off the offensive word.

He didn’t say anything, simply walked to the driver’s side, waited until she’d unlocked the car, then opened the door and held it while she got in. She’d wondered if he’d attempt to kiss her. Hoped she’d be strong enough to resist. But he didn’t. He slammed the door on her without a word.

So much for manners, she thought, putting her key in the ignition and firing up the beast.

The passenger door opened and to her shock, Max got in beside her.

She threw up both hands. “Now what are you doing?”

“Escorting you home.”

“But you’re staying at the hotel.”

“Yes. I am.”

“Max, this is ridiculous.”

“I’m old-fashioned, remember?” And then she got it. He didn’t want her going home alone in case Frank Carmondy wanted to cause more trouble than scrawling insults on her back window.

She looked at him. “You’re going to drive me nuts, aren’t you?”

His grin was both wolfish and understanding. “Probably.”

* * *

THEY WERE MOSTLY quiet on the way home. John Mayer played on the radio. The old Yukon bumped and rattled on its way back to the barn. She felt Max’s watchfulness but no drunken, crazed ex-employee jumped out at them.

She turned into the Polar Air property and all was serene.

She parked the car and turned to him, all sexy and mysterious beside her. “Well, Sir Galahad, it seems I’m home safe.”

“Good.” He began to lean toward her, slow and sure, but giving her plenty of time to pull back.

She did pull back, but not all the way. She put a hand to his chest, found it warm and muscular. “Even if I’m not your boss, we’re still coworkers. This is against company policy.”

“As I believe I mentioned, we’re not coworkers until tomorrow.”

He was so close she could see tiny black flecks in the deep brown of his irises, could smell the fresh laundry and hot male scent of him. Her lips began to open. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this attracted to a man. “And what happens tomorrow?” she asked. Her voice came out breathless.

“We’ll worry about that tomorrow,” he said, and closed the last few inches between them, covering her mouth with his own.

His kiss was hot and sweet. Demanding and restrained. Such a mass of contradictions she found herself pulling him against her, demanding more.

He didn’t need much encouragement. He plunged his hands into her hair, holding her so he could kiss her thoroughly. He licked into her mouth, teased her tongue. He tasted of the coffee they’d drunk, a hint of wine, and deeper of sexy, potent, demanding man.

A tiny cry came from her throat, part protest, part acquiescence. He was so hot. When she ran her hands over his chest and back she found that he was muscular and toned, as she’d guessed.

Seat belts were a hindrance. He snapped his free with a curse. Then reached and unsnapped hers.

He turned her toward him and let his own hands play. He didn’t grab straight for her breasts, but traced the scoop of her neckline with one fingertip. Her nipples came to life. She felt them bloom against her dress, hard and insistent.

His single fingertip, seemingly oblivious, traced her shoulder, tracked to her upper back and moved up her spine into her hairline. She shivered. How had she never known how sensitive she was in that spot?

She copied his movement, lightly dragging her index finger into the V of his open shirt, so she touched warm, warm skin and springy hair. His subtle caress reminded her of how long it had been since she’d been touched like this.

No, she realized, she’d never been touched like this.

Not with this slow abandon. This controlled madness.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone as much as I want you right now,” he said, all huskiness and passion.

“Mmmm,” she said.

“Come back to the hotel with me?”

She let her fingers play in his thick, gorgeous hair. “I can’t,” she almost wailed.

He kissed her one more time. Then broke away and pulled out his phone. “Do you know the number of a cab?”

“Take the car,” she said, feeling breathless and out of control. “Bring it back in the morning.”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

She got out of the vehicle and found her legs were trembling. He came around the back and met her, reaching for her arms as though he couldn’t stop himself from touching her. “I will dream of you tonight,” he said, and kissed her; one last, lingering kiss.

As he drove away, she suspected he’d be in her dreams, too.

If she slept.

4

SPRUCE BAY WAS full of self-sufficient people who were proud of their toughness and ability to survive the harsh climate. Max discovered all of this as he strolled the town on foot, getting a feel for his home for the next while.

There were outdoor equipment stores, hunting and fishing shops as well as a Realtor, financial planners, a grocery store and a pharmacy.

He found the local rec center, where, due to the long winter, the main sports were curling, figure skating and hockey.

Needless to say, the ice rink was in perfect condition.

After some asking around, he tracked down the manager of the facility. “Hi,” he said, “I’m Max Varo. New hire at Polar Air.”

“I know who you are,” the guy said. “Heard you took care of Frank Carmondy pretty good the other night.”

Max had no idea whether this was a good or a bad thing in the other man’s opinion. “He was bothering my date,” he said.

The guy nodded. “Time somebody called him on his crap.” He held out his hand. “Ted Lowenbrau. What can I do for you?”

“I need some ice time. I’m practicing for a big tournament. Badges on Ice.”

“I’ve heard of it. We’ve sent a few teams from here over the years. They letting in pilots now? Thought you had to be a cop or a firefighter.”

“The tournament’s for emergency services, you’re right. I’m an ambulance reserve guy. I play on a team with my buddies. We really need to keep up the practicing if we have a hope of winning.” He wondered if he could fly Adam and Dylan up for a few sessions. Depending on his schedule, he might also be able to head south for the odd practice.

“What’s your schedule like? Could I rent the rink for a few hours a week?”

“Be real early in the morning or late at night.”

He nodded. “I’m used to that.”

“Give me your details. We’ll work something out.”

“Thanks.”

Max had already decided that he needed to keep up his workouts even without the Hunter Hurricanes. He figured he’d work out on his own, and if that didn’t do the trick, he’d hire some kids from a local hockey team to practice with him. They’d get free ice time and he’d get to keep up his skills and fitness level. Everyone would be happy.

In the meantime, he started flying for Polar Air, getting to know the rest of the pilots, learning about each of the five aircrafts.

And, as promised, within three days, he had a place to live right on the Polar Air site. The caretaker’s cottage was a small log cabin built of cedar. There was a bedroom, a living area, a kitchen, a bathroom with shower and a porch out front.

It looked as though it had been built in the ’50s and any updating had been minor. However, there was cable and Wi-Fi and the place came furnished. Max knew there were aspects of his own home he was going to miss, like his in-home gym, infrared sauna and top-of-the-line electronics. But he’d never been a man who needed luxury. He suspected he’d do just fine in his little cottage.

When Ted called him at the end of the week, he said, “I’ve got Tuesdays and Thursdays at 10:00 p.m. open. You get the ice for an hour.”

“That’s fantastic. Thanks.”

“There’s one other hockey player who will be on the rink at that time. I figure you can do drills together or skate around each other or something.”

“Yeah. Sure. Sounds good.” He hoped the other guy was as good as he was. Maybe they could work together, spur each other on.

Maybe even have a beer together once in a while.

* * *

MAX FELL INTO A routine over the next few weeks. There were twelve pilots altogether. The planes, a fleet of Beavers and Cessnas, serviced fishing lodges and dropped mail, supplies and parts to mining and logging operations. They also transported hunters and hikers and geologists and photographers and anybody who wanted to fly someplace in Alaska.

Lynette was often on duty at the office. But Claire made sure she was around regularly as well. Max saw how protective she was of her grandmother while trying not to let it show to anyone, least of all to Lynette.

Max was the perfect employee, efficient, respectful, always willing. Claire was wary around him, a little jumpy, he suspected because of the kisses they’d shared and the sizzle that burned the air between them whenever they were together. He wasn’t a man who would ever regret kissing a beautiful woman, but he admitted to himself that having tasted her it was impossible not to want more.

However, he knew the next move would be up to her, so he got on with his job and tried to keep his fantasies about Claire to a respectable minimum.

He liked the work. Enjoyed flying terrain he wasn’t familiar with. Liked the other pilots, though he didn’t want to get too close to them. He knew something they didn’t: that he’d likely own the company they worked for at some point in the near future. He didn’t want to earn their contempt by pretending to be one of them when it was only temporary.

He kept in touch with his assistant daily, but Varo Enterprises was running as smoothly as he’d expected it would.

And he was having fun. He loved turnarounds. Didn’t matter to him that this was a much smaller company than most he’d worked on recently. He liked being on the ground—and in the air—seeing the potential.

What he didn’t like was seeing the crease between Claire’s brows. He suspected she hadn’t known about the mortgage being called until recently. He knew that with the purchase price he had in mind for Polar Air she and her grandmother would be able to pay off the mortgages and still have enough left over for a decent life. But he didn’t want to tell her who he was. Not yet. If he decided not to buy Polar Air he didn’t want her to be disappointed.

So he kept his mouth shut and his eyes open.

He spent some of his downtime getting to know Spruce Bay. It wasn’t a big town and in a lot of ways it had let progress pull out into the fast lane and speed on by, leaving it puttering along contentedly at its own slow pace.

One thing soon became clear. He needed a vehicle if he was going to spend any time at all here. He got a ride into town with Will Runningbear, a younger pilot. “I need to buy a truck, Will. Where do you suggest?”

“You got two choices. Spruce Bay Motors if you want a new vehicle or if you want to get ripped off on a used one. Or you can go to Tough Beans and look at the notice board. Most everything gets posted there.”

“What about Craigslist?”

Will shrugged large shoulders. “You can try.”

So, Max got Will to drop him off at Tough Beans. As promised, there was a big cork notice board offering apartment rentals, jobs, massage therapists, financial planners and guys to clean out your gutters or remove snow. And there was a section where people were advertising goods for sale from property to bowling shoes. There were three trucks on offer. One was fifteen years old and so full of rust he figured it would need to be towed, not driven. The second truck was too new and shiny. Truck number three was a five-year-old F-150. Mileage looked reasonable and the condition was listed as good. He called the number on his cell phone.

Within hours he was the proud owner of a Ford truck. He drove it back to the property and parked behind the small house they’d given him.

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING he walked into the office at six-thirty and headed straight for the coffee machine. Claire was already there, sitting behind one of the desks, tapping at a computer. “Morning, Claire.”

“Morning, Max.”

She rose, and walked over to stand beside him. She seemed ill at ease.

“Everything all right?”

“I don’t know. Look, I’m not one to pry into other people’s business but I’m wondering how you managed to pay cash for a truck yesterday. That’s a lot of money on a bush pilot’s salary.”

He cursed himself for a fool. Of course this was a town where gossiping was as common as breathing. He could imagine the speculation going on behind her pretty eyes. Knew he’d be doing the same if their positions were reversed.

He stirred cream into his coffee, added two sugars. Then he leaned back against the counter, took a sip of the brew. “I had some money sitting in an account.” It was true enough. “I came by that money honestly. Don’t worry, I’m not another Frank Carmondy.”

She gazed at him searchingly. “Okay.”

He felt twitchy inside. He didn’t like hiding things from Claire. He didn’t want to mislead a woman he liked, especially one who was suffering because of a crooked employee. He couldn’t raise false hopes though, not until he was sure Polar Air was a sensible acquisition for his company. And the fact that he had a crush on the owner’s granddaughter was not a sound reason to rush into this deal. Not for his management team or for himself.

She turned to go back to her computer but he felt her unease. She deserved to know more. “I’m not a poor man.” He shrugged his shoulders. “In fact, I’m pretty good with money. Okay? My family raised me to be careful. They never had any debt apart from their mortgage, which they paid off as soon as they could by hard work and saving. Those habits are hard to break. In fact, no matter how much money I had, I wouldn’t want to.”

His reward for telling her a little of the truth was seeing her relief. “Your parents sound like my grandparents. They only ever borrowed money for land and equipment. They worked so hard to build this airline.” He saw her hand clench into a fist and knew she was thinking of the man who had stolen so much of that hard-earned wealth. The man who had put the entire company’s future into jeopardy, if Leslie’s sources were to be believed.

Of course, Claire had no idea how much he already knew.

“Is it bad?” he asked gently, wanting her to trust him.

For a second he thought she might blurt it all out. There was a moment of vulnerability on her face and she opened her lips. Then, she must have reconsidered. As he watched emotions flit across her face, he was fairly certain he could tell what she was thinking. He was only a new hire, after all. They’d enjoyed dinner together and some hot, steamy kissing in the old Yukon, but could she really trust him?

She gave a firm shake of her head. “Not too bad. I promise your paycheck won’t bounce.”

A wise man would nod, make a wisecrack and back away. But he couldn’t let it go at that. He thought he understood how much the financial difficulty was hurting her. Since her grandparents and his folks obviously shared a loathing of debt he could only imagine how he’d feel if somebody swindled his mom and dad and he felt helpless to fix it.

He put his two hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently. “You can trust me, Claire. That I promise.”

When she looked at him like that he wanted to pull her to him and kiss her, to tell her he was her knight in shining armor, here to save her airline, make sure there was enough money for Lynette to enjoy her retirement in comfort and for Polar Air to continue to operate with its books balanced and its reputation restored.

The moment hovered, he moved a tiny bit closer, she tilted her head in his direction. He could already taste her lips.

The bell on the door jangled, pulling them both sharply back to reality. What was he thinking? He didn’t make business decisions based on a pair of big hazel eyes and the sweetest lips he’d ever kissed. He needed to get a grip.

They both greeted Will, also headed for the coffee machine. Claire gave Max his schedule for the day. He was doing a food-and-supply drop-off for a group of hikers. He understood that she was giving him the least challenging runs until she felt confident that he could handle more.

It was a funny thing to realize he wanted to prove to her that he could handle more.

How long had it been since he’d been forced to prove himself?

Max wondered if he’d grown soft, too accustomed to having people agree with him and suck up to him because of his wealth. He suspected the experience of showing Claire and the rest of the Polar Air team that he was good enough to fly their toughest routes would be good for him.

Whatever ended up happening with Polar Air he knew one thing.

He was no longer bored.

5

WHEN TUESDAY EVENING arrived, Max pulled together his hockey bag, threw it in the back of his new truck and headed for the town rink. He was early, so he had a few minutes to watch the tail end of a figure skating class. The eight girls and two boys were at all ages and levels but he watched a few moves that impressed the hell out of him. He supposed in a town where winter dominated, ice sports were the best way to keep kids out of trouble.

After the skaters left the ice the Zamboni rolled onto the surface and he headed to the men’s change room to get suited up.

When he emerged onto the empty rink, he wondered how the Hunter Hurricanes were doing without him. He knew he was going to have to get back for a few games or he’d lose his spot on the team. Much as Dylan, Adam and he were the best front line the Hurricanes had ever had, he knew they’d replace him if he didn’t get down there regularly.

He decided right then what he needed to do, and before he could forget or change his mind, he pulled out his cell phone and sent a text to Dylan and Adam. Need you guys to come practice with me in Spruce Bay. See if you can work it into your schedules. You know you’ll never win BOI without me.

He sent the text and wondered if they’d come. Knew he had to entice them with more than a rink in Alaska. Sent a second text. Really hot women here. He thought of Claire and smiled.

He stepped onto the ice, warmed up a little and then practiced power skating. He turned to his left, turned to his right. He was stronger on his right side, could shoot much tighter.

He could buttonhook around on the right, but going to the left took thought and effort so he practiced both. He practiced crossovers. He’d start on the goal line, skate to the blue line, back to goal then past blue to center, then back to the goal line in figure eights that grew increasingly fast. He slowed down when he became aware of another person entering the rink.

He slowed and glanced up, wondering who the other guy was and if they’d be able to practice together. Then he realized it was a woman. And she was wearing a pink helmet. Ted Lowenbrau had made him think he’d be practicing with another guy.

She stilled when she saw him. He noticed her compact, curvy body and as she began coming toward him he realized it was a very familiar shape.

“Claire?” he said when she skated closer. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to ask you the same question. I always practice at this time.”

“Ted Lowenbrau, the guy who runs the rink, told me I could practice Tuesdays and Thursdays. He said there’d be somebody else to do drills with. He didn’t mention it was you.”

She made a frustrated sound. “You’d think you were the only man in Spruce Bay and I was a desperate spinster,” she snapped. “In fact, there are far more men here than women. I happen to be particular, that’s all.”

Since she’d seen fit to have dinner with him and do some seriously nice kissing and fondling, he decided that this was a compliment.

* * *

SHE NEVER SHOULD have had dinner with him, Claire thought. She’d known it the moment Max asked her out, but the combination of her bad afternoon with Frank, and the chance to get to know her new impulse hire, had won out against common sense. Also, as she couldn’t help noticing, he was hot.

So, she’d dressed up and gone to dinner.

And this was the result. Guys like Ted, who’d be too busy come ice-fishing season to give her a thought, had decided to do a little matchmaking.

For all she knew, her darling grandmother had put Ted up to it.

There were times that Claire longed to live in a nice big anonymous town like New York where nine million people didn’t know your name and didn’t care about your business. No, she thought, Mumbai, that’s where she’d go. The weather was better and most of the nineteen million inhabitants didn’t speak English, making it more difficult for her neighbors to interfere in her personal life.

She adjusted her helmet.

Apparently the people of her town were right since Max hadn’t made a single attempt to get close and personal with her after that one steamy kiss—when was it, two weeks ago? She said, “Probably a prank.”

Max rested his chin on the top of his stick. Regarded her. “You any good?”

She kept her features schooled. She’d gone to college on a hockey scholarship. Been scouted for the women’s Olympic team. She could kick his ass on the ice from here to Sunday. But he didn’t have to know that.

She toggled her hand back and forth. “Not bad for a girl. You?”

“I’ve never played hockey with a woman. I don’t want to hurt you.”

She knew it was foolish of her to care that he hadn’t asked her out again or tried to increase the intimacy after that one steamy kiss. A kiss that had been so unforgettable she had trouble thinking about anything else when he was around. While he seemed to have completely forgotten the experience.

So, she was foolish. Max wanted to play it cool. That was fine by her. But here they were on a rink, which, second to sitting in a cockpit in midair, was the place she felt most at ease. Was she good enough? Hah! She decided she was going to enjoy herself.

In Moscow at an international college championship she’d shot a puck that had been clocked at 80 mph. She said, “Let’s take it slow. I’ll try to keep up.”