Always Valentine's Day

He nodded. “It’s still early. How about that drink?”

“I don’t think so.”

There was a kind of tension gathered about her. It was different than the restless curiosity he’d sensed on the fantail. It hadn’t come from the kiss, that much he was sure of. He knew when he held a willing woman in his arms. Somewhere around the time Carter had shown up, though, it had started to simmer. Christopher found himself subtly on edge. Something was going on with her, and he wasn’t the type of man to just let it go.

“It’s a big ship. We don’t have to go to a bar. There are other things to do, the casino, the piano lounge, the show. What do you think?”

“You want to know what I think?” Larkin asked coolly. “I think it’s very strange that a farmer from Vermont would recognize a man like Carter Hayes.” She turned down the hallway toward her room.

Christopher blinked and followed. “It shouldn’t be all that surprising. He’s a prominent guy.”

“Only in some circles.” They moved aside for an older couple to pass. “Carter lives pretty quietly. He doesn’t show up in the news. It’s not like he’s Malcolm Forbes or Warren Buffett.”

“I think you underestimate him.”

“Apparently, I underestimate farmers in Vermont,” Larkin returned. “Here I figured you spent your time talking about the price of grain, not futures traders. Who knew?”

“We do talk about the price of grain. And at my old job, we talked about futures traders like Carter.”

“Your old job?” She stopped to stare at him.

“I was a lobbyist for the financial industry.”

“A lobbi—” Suspicion bloomed into anger. And betrayal. “So you know who Carter is.” Probably right down to his net worth, Larkin thought as she strode down to her door, key card in hand.

“I followed the industry, and Carter was a part of it,” Christopher responded. “I don’t get what the problem is here.”

“Let me catch up a minute. You were a Washington mover and shaker, and then one day you just decided to throw it all away to become a farmer?”

“I wouldn’t use the words throwing it all away,” he said curtly. “I decided I wanted something else.”

“Except it sounds like that something else isn’t treating you too well.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “If you knew anything about farming, you’d know that’s pretty common.”

“How convenient for you that you met me.”

He frowned. “Meaning?”

Larkin gave him a bright, hard, merciless smile. “It’s funny how it works when you’re the daughter of a man like Carter. The whole world wants to be your best friend. Every guy with any ambition wants to date you—hell, forget dating, they want marriage, as long as it comes with a piece of the pie. They want to get close to the man. I’ve been offered five-carat diamond engagement rings.” She ran her key card and opened her door. “And you thought you were making progress with just a kiss or two?”

She started to walk inside but he caught at her shoulder. “That’s nuts. Paranoid.”

She whirled on him. “You want a list of the times it happened?” She’d had a lifetime of sharp-eyed people who wanted to use her to get close to Carter and his money.

She just hadn’t expected Christopher to be one of them.

“Are you saying I kissed you because of Carter?” Christopher asked tightly, anger stirring in his words.

“Are you trying to say it had nothing to do with it?” She’d felt the chemistry when they’d met, but between the flirtation of the afternoon and the raging need that had flared that evening lay a vast gulf. Between the flirtation of the afternoon and the heat of the night, Christopher had seen her with Carter. Christopher, who knew exactly who Carter Hayes was, and how much money he had. “Why didn’t you tell me you recognized Carter?” she demanded, striding inside.

He stalked after her. “Because I didn’t. When I saw you guys before, you were down the hall. I didn’t get a good look.”

“Yeah, right.”

There was a subtle change in his stance, even though he didn’t move. If she’d been paying attention, Larkin would have seen it. “So I’m a hustler now, is that it?” he demanded.

Too caught up in her own fury, she didn’t register the gathering storm. “You tell me. All I know is that it’s kind of funny how things changed. One minute, you’re just some guy chatting on deck. Then you see me with Carter—or excuse me, someone,” she qualified elaborately, missing the narrowing of his eyes, “and suddenly the next time we’re together you go all continental with the hand kissing and the heavy stares and…” She swallowed, remembering the flare of heat and need, noticing for the first time the palpable tension that hung around him.

“And?” he bit off, a dangerous flash in his eyes.

She flushed. “And nothing. If you want to try to get to Carter through me, you’re going to have to do a lot more than just kiss my hand.”

“Gladly.” And before she knew what he was about, he’d dragged her to him, lips coming down hot and possessive on hers.

This wasn’t a soft whisper of invitation; it wasn’t about tempting. This was frustration and challenge, anger and need. It was an all-out assault on her senses. Desire whipped through her in those first few stunned seconds, and she was helpless to do anything but feel. Every fiber of her being focused on the hot press of his mouth, the demand of his hands, the male flavor of him as her lips parted and he took them both deeper.

He kissed her with an almost arrogant ownership, as though he’d already plundered every inch of her body. As though he already knew exactly how she liked to be touched.

And he did.

The ship moved beneath them, but it was the arousal surging through her veins that had her clinging to him as she swayed against him on legs that would no longer hold her. The feel of his palms running over her bare shoulders made her shiver. She breathed in, open mouth to his, as though it was him she needed, more than sustenance, more than air. Her world had reduced to just this: his lips, his hands, his body against her.

He had no business kissing her like this, Christopher knew. But he’d been holding back practically since he’d first seen her. Somewhere along the line, the goading had loosened the tight grip he kept on his control. It wasn’t just irritation at the insult that had the passion and frustration inside him bubbling over. He needed more. He needed for her to acknowledge this pull between them. He needed to know that it clawed at her, too.

She was soft and pliant against him. The silken strands of her hair brushed at his cheek. She tasted dark and sweet and sinfully delicious, like some stolen treat to be scooped up with a fingertip and savored.

He worked his way across her cheek to the line of her jaw, tasting her skin. With a helpless noise, she let her head fall back. He pressed his lips against the curving line of her throat, inhaling her scent, half devouring her. The desire drummed through him, the need to take, the compulsion to satisfy the howling demand.

She wrapped herself around him, mouth moving avidly under his, making soft purring noises of pleasure.

He could take her at this moment, he knew. The bed was mere steps away. He could have them both naked in seconds and be sliding into that purely female softness, sliding into heat and sensation and inevitability to take them both over the edge. Instead, he made himself pull away, leaving her to stare at him, eyes dazed, mouth swollen from his.

“Wha…” She blinked. “I…”

“Trust me, Larkin.” He looked down at her. “Whatever happens between you and me has absolutely nothing to do with Carter.”

And he pulled open the door and walked away.

While he still could.

Chapter Three

Juneau was possibly the narrowest city Larkin had ever seen, clinging stubbornly to the tiny strip of flat ground that lay between the Gastineau Channel and the high mountains that rose abruptly a few hundred yards inland. What it lacked in width, it tried to make up for in length, stretching out along both sides of the inlet.

Larkin walked down the gangway, buttoning her coat against the chilly air. There must have been other days she’d started the day so cranky, but she couldn’t remember when.

“Flying over glaciers,” Carter said from behind her. “Now there’s something you don’t do every day.”

“Forget about the glaciers. Let the Trasks entertain themselves. We should do the zip line,” Larkin said. “What’s a zip line?”

Strenuous, risky, adrenaline-laced. Just the ticket for the mood she was in. “It’ll be fun. You’ll see.”

“Next time. For now, we’ve got a plane and pilot to ourselves for the day. We’ll see parts of Alaska you can’t get to on foot.”

Impatient to the last, Carter had hired a private plane and pilot. Forget about group excursions, he’d said. They’d see what they wanted to see, when they wanted to see it.

Them, and now their new guests.

Molly Trask stood on the pier beyond the bottom of the gangway, her cheeks pretty and pink with cold. “Good morning,” she called out as they approached.

Great, Larkin thought. Carter’s new crush.

“Ready to walk on a glacier?” Carter asked. Molly shook her head. “I must be out of my mind. I couldn’t walk without help across a solid deck last night. God only knows how I’m going to do it on a sheet of ice.”

“I guess I’ll just have to keep an eye on you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Trust me, it won’t be a hardship,” Carter assured her. “Keeping an eye on you will be the easiest day’s work I’ve ever done.”

Molly blinked. “Oh. Well.” The pink that crept over her cheeks had nothing to do with cold. Flustered, she turned to the steep peaks that rose behind city.

“How do you like Alaska?” Carter asked, amused.

“Gorgeous,” she said. “It’s even more beautiful than home, and I never thought I’d say that.”

“Where’s home?” “Vermont.” “Well, how about that? I’m from your neck of the woods.”

“Really? Where?” She pulled out a pair of sunglasses.

He rubbed his chin. “Manhattan.”

“I’m not sure that qualifies as my neck of the woods,” she said, sliding the glasses on.

“Are you kidding? It’s the Northeast. We’re practically neighbors.”

Her lips twitched. “I see. Well, next time you need a cup of sugar, feel free to stop by.”

“I’ll do that. So is anybody else coming?”

“Christopher should be along in just a minute.”

Christopher, Larkin thought, gritting her teeth. Of course.

“What about the rest?” Carter asked.

“Gabriel and Jacob and their families just left to go dogsledding. The kids have been talking about it for weeks. Lainie and J.J. decided to do the zip line.”

“Just what the heck is a zip line, anyway? Larkin’s pushing me to do it.”

Molly patted his arm. “Better not to ask,” she advised.

“Is this something I should know about?”

“Probably best that you don’t.”

He glanced suspiciously at Larkin, who gave him her most innocent look. “It’s a sad day when you find out that you can’t trust your own child.”

“She didn’t say you wouldn’t have fun,” Larkin pointed out.

Carter glanced over to the transportation apron where the excursion buses were lined up, then turned back to Larkin. “There’s supposed to be a van here to take us to the airstrip. We’ll go find it and check in with the driver. You wait for Christopher. We should be down at the far end, past all the buses.” He held out his arm for Molly. “So tell me what you do with yourself all day up in Vermont.”

Larkin watched them walk off and resisted the urge to sigh. If Carter wanted to have a shipboard romance, he would. Being an adult was about learning to release what you couldn’t control, and she couldn’t control Carter any more than she could the tides. If he was set on pursuing Molly Trask, Larkin had no business trying to dissuade him.

Christopher Trask, now, she definitely had business with him.

She’d spent a long, sleepless night being rocked by the motion of the ship while she imagined wreaking detailed vengeance on him. The death by paper cuts scenario had pleased her most. Unfortunately, no matter how furious she was with him, down beneath it all the wanting still thrummed. And it was for that that she cursed him most of all. He’d made her yearn, taken her to surrender, and they both knew it.

And despite it all, she still wanted him.

Where was a voodoo doll when you needed one, Larkin wondered, jamming her hands in her pockets. Even something to throw would make her feel better. Especially if it was at Christopher Trask’s head.

She pulled out her BlackBerry to check messages.

It was a testament to the depth of her hostility that she knew, somehow, when he was approaching. Definitely hostility, for all that it felt like a buzz of anticipation. She turned back toward the Alaskan Voyager.

It was that easy stride that gave him away. He walked with the relaxed, confident self-possession of an athlete. He wore a leather bomber jacket over jeans and a thick cream-colored fisherman’s sweater. A navy-blue watch cap sat atop his head. When he saw her, he gave that killer smile. Larkin found herself responding reflexively before she could remind herself that she hated him.

“Hey,” he said as he stopped before her. “Where’s everybody else?”

“Carter and Molly went to look for the van.” She stood there with her arms crossed before her, shoulders square and stiff. “They told me to wait for you. Lucky me.”

His smile was very wide. “No. Lucky me.”

She was seriously ticked, Christopher thought. Every movement of her body shouted it. Fair enough. He’d been pretty ticked off himself. The clash of wills had drawn blood—and heated it—on both sides. The question was, what happened next?

She stood in her long black coat and jeans, along with one of those round white fur hats that made her look like some expatriate czarina. Silver teardrops swung at her ears. The wind tossed around the honey-gold strands of her hair and brought out a flush of cold in her cheeks. And maybe the sparkle in her eyes was at the thought of telling him to go to the devil, but he’d take it as long as she kept looking like that.

Anyway, he was betting he could talk her out of being mad.

“So this is Juneau, huh?”

“Feel free to stick around and explore,” she said. “We’ll just head on out to the airfield.”

“No way, we’ve got glaciers to see. Where’s the bus?”

“Down near the end, Carter said.” She started walking without looking to see that he followed. He saw her smother a yawn.

“How did you sleep?” he asked.

She shot him a venomous look. “Never better. And you?”

“I kind of liked it.” Even if it had taken him a couple of hours to drift off. “Sort of like sleeping in a hammock, with all that swaying. And then I wake up and there’s someone knocking on the door and bringing me coffee. I mean, what’s not to like?”

“I’m sure if you went back to your cabin right now, someone would bring you coffee again. Why don’t you go on board and find out?”

“I’d say nice try, but that wasn’t even a very good one. What are you pissed off about,” he added, “that I kissed you last night or that you liked it?”

“Does the caveman routine usually work for you?” she asked pleasantly.

“It’s not my usual MO, but I figured you deserved something special.”

“Pardon me for not appreciating it.”

“You wanted a demonstration. I figured the least I could do was oblige.” And it hadn’t been a hardship he thought, watching her now and remembering the scent of her skin. Walking away when she’d been heated and avid against him had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. And she remembered it, too. He saw those green eyes darken before she shook her head and turned away.

“I don’t know why I’m even bothering talking to you,” she muttered.

“Because it’s a gorgeous morning. We’re in an incredible place. You’re too smart to spend the day pouting.”

“I don’t pout,” she returned in outrage.

“My mistake,” he said. “Isn’t that the van?” He pointed toward the minibus where Carter and Molly waited, already inside.

At the airstrip, they pulled up to an unprepossessing vinyl-sided building with a green sign that said Taku Glacier Excursions. As soon as the minibus doors opened, a staffer who looked like she was fourteen—if she was lucky—stepped on board. “Hi, everyone,” she said as they rose. “I’m Amy.”

Carter rose. “I’m Carter Hayes, the one who rented the plane. We’ve brought along a couple more people than we were planning, but it shouldn’t be an issue. There’s room.”

“Actually,” she shifted uncomfortably, “we’ve sort of got a problem.”

“We?” Carter repeated. “What kind of problem do we have?”

“Uh, the plane’s not here.”

Carter’s brows lowered a fraction. “I had my assistant pay for it a month ago. What do you mean it’s not here?”

The girl coughed. “A couple of climbers got lost on Denali. There’s a big search under way, and the, uh, plane that was supposed to take you to the glaciers is part of it. We’ve got a substitute, though,” she rushed to add. “A local ’copter pilot, Buck Matthews, is going to take you up.”

Buck Matthews, Larkin thought, looking out on the pads where the helicopters crouched like metal and Plexiglas dragonflies. Perfect. “Dad, maybe we ought to skip it.”

“I think you’ll really like the helicopter,” Amy told her. “It’s better than the plane because you can hover over anything you want to see. And Buck’s been flying for years. He really knows the area. Oh—” she paused “—you don’t have any problems with animals, right?” Puzzled, they shook their heads and Amy exhaled in relief. “Great, let’s get you into some glacier boots, and then you can follow me out to the helicopter pad.”

The boots were black and puffy and slipped over their regular shoes. Larkin sensed rather than heard Christopher sit on the bench beside her as she strapped hers on.

“It’s a good look for you,” he said. “Very stylish.”

She scowled at him and rose to follow Amy out to the helicopter pad.

“It kind of gives you that astronaut experience, doesn’t it?” Christopher asked. When she didn’t answer, he leaned in. “You’re going to have to break down and talk to me sometime.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” she said, and cursed herself the minute the words were out of her mouth.

His grin flashed. “Like I said.” He winked as he walked past her.

The closer they got to the helicopter, the more uneasy Larkin became. She’d been expecting a nice twin-engine Cessna with individual seats. Instead, they had a helicopter that looked like it had been borrowed from a TV traffic report team in Anchorage.

Assuming Anchorage had anything remotely resembling traffic.

The aircraft sat on the pad, doors open. A stocky, bearded man stood beside it, looking large enough to fill it entirely himself. Little backward opening doors on either side gave access to a backseat barely worthy of the name. On the grass strip that ran between the tarmac and the landing pad, a gray brown mutt nosed around, which pretty much said all she needed to know about the professionalism of the operation.

“This is Buck,” Amy said.

“Y’all ready to fly?” He nodded at the helicopter.

“In there?” Larkin asked faintly. “Are you sure we’re all going to fit?” The backseat looked barely wide enough to accommodate two people, let alone three.

He winked. “You’ll get to know each other up close and personal.”

Larkin glanced over to see Carter and Molly.

And Christopher.

Up close and personal.

“Molly, do you want the front seat?” Carter asked.

“Nope.” Buck shook his head. “That’s where Scout rides.” He whistled, and the dog—more of a hound, really—came loping over, tongue out and a big doggy grin on his face.

“No.” Stubbornness glimmered in Carter’s eyes. “The front seat is for one of us. The dog stays here.”

“Nope,” Buck said genially. “Scout always flies with me. If you want to go, he goes, up front. Unless you want him in the backseat with all of you,” he added.

Molly laughed and bent over to rub Scout’s ears. “I don’t mind giving him the front seat. A flight over the glaciers with a big old dog, now that’s an adventure,” she said. “Look at this harness you’ve got, boy. You’re all dressed up and ready to go.”

Amy gave a pained smile. “Buck is helping us out here, sir. It’s the only way we can get you up to the glaciers.”

“We’re here,” Christopher said. “I’d say give it a try.”

“If you’re not completely happy with the excursion,” Amy added, “we’ll refund your money.”

“We’ll see,” Carter grumbled, but he was watching Molly make friends with Scout, who seemed very close to being in love.

Larkin only wished she was feeling so good about it. “I’ll stay here. All four of us can’t possibly squeeze into that backseat. There’s no room.”

Buck looked them over. “Sure there is. None of you’s too wide. It’ll just be cozy. Hop in.”

Cozy. Exactly what Larkin wanted. She heard a smothered laugh and glanced over to see Christopher watching her.

“I’ll take the inside seat. You have the window,” Carter told Molly.

“Of course not. You were the one who paid for the trip. You should sit by the window.”

“I’m taller than you are,” he argued. “You sit on the inside, you won’t see a thing. Take the window.”

Molly folded her arms. “Only if you take it on the way back.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“Get used to it,” she returned.

He considered. “I guess I’ll have to.”

Christopher glanced over at Larkin. “I’ll give you the window seat, too,” he told her. “Just to show you chivalry’s alive and well in Alaska.”

“Gee, I’m so relieved.” She watched him fold his long body into the small space and looked at the postage-stamp patch of seat that remained. Right next to the door.

“Need a hand?” Christopher asked.

“I can do it myself.” Reluctantly, she raised a clunky boot to the threshold of the cabin, hoisting herself in and settling back into the alarmingly small space. There was no way to do it halfway. Even staying as close to the edge as she could, she was still unable to keep from touching Christopher.

“All right, over all the way,” Buck ordered. “I gotta shut the door.”

She wasn’t about to look at Christopher and see the humor that she knew would be dancing in his eyes. Instead, she stared studiously ahead and shifted over. Then the little back door slammed and latched with a clunk, leaving her wedged in place.

It was impossible to shut out the awareness of his body. They were practically welded together from ankle to shoulder. It didn’t matter that there were layers of clothing between them. What she felt most of all was strength. He might have looked rangy, almost lanky at a glance, but with her body glued up against his, Larkin could feel that he was solid with muscle.

Buck hoisted himself into his seat and whistled. “Scout, load up.” Scout hopped up into the helicopter, panting as Buck snapped a pair of chains onto his harness. The pilot put on a bright yellow headset and busied himself for a few moments, checking dials and flicking switches.

He turned to them. “Each of you grab a set of those headphones hanging above you. Once I start the engine, you won’t be able to hear a thing unless you got ’em on. It’s two-way, so holler if you got a question or want to get a better look at anything.” There was a click and the rotors started turning. “Okay, guys, we’re ready to go.”

Larkin tensed.

Christopher turned to hand her a headset, then gave her a double take. Frowning, he leaned in close as the whine of the motor grew to a roar. “You okay?”

She nodded and tried for a careless smile as the helicopter began to shudder, but it felt more like a grimace.

Because Larkin had a secret. A seasoned traveler she might have been, but she’d never ridden in a helicopter. Jets, yes, Gulfstreams, of course. Even the odd Cessna, they were all fine.