Stand-In Mum. Marie Ferrarella

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СКАЧАТЬ This time, you’ve met your match. I’ve had my shots.

      Like a referee stepping between two contenders to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, Sydney was quick to get between Marta and Ike. She took Marta’s parka and hung it next to hers. “Ike volunteered to show you around when you feel like sightseeing.”

      I just bet he did, Marta thought. Because the children were there, she kept the comment that immediately occurred to her to herself. Instead, she smiled broadly at Sara and Mac, placing a hand on each of their shoulders.

      “All the sights I came to see are right here in this room.” She cast an offhanded glance in Ike’s direction. “Besides, I’m here as a friend, not a tourist.”

      Sara’s pretty face puckered again. “But how are you going to fall in love with Alaska if you don’t see it?”

      So, there was a plot afoot. And Sydney looked so innocent, pregnant and all. Marta raised a bemused brow in Sydney’s direction. “I have no intention of falling in love with Alaska.” Her eyes strayed toward Ike. “Or anything else.”

      Ike stepped in, the expression on his face one that any poker player would have envied. “Wasn’t that the plan? To show her around and get her to stay?”

      It had been what she’d hoped for, but nothing that Sydney had put into so many words. At least, not to anyone but Shayne. Obviously she was going to have to have a word with her husband about what the word secret meant.

      “Ike.”

      He heard the warning note in Sydney’s voice and grinned. “Let the cat out of the bag, didn’t I?” His glance, all encompassing and appreciative, swept over Marta again before returning to Sydney. “Never mind, if it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen.”

      Marta had the very distinct impression that the tall saloon keeper wasn’t talking about a love affair that had to do with frozen rivers and snow-covered mountains. Pointedly, she smiled up into his face. “Just as long as no one is holding their breath.”

      It wasn’t his breath he was counting on holding, but a beautiful and quite possibly underappreciated woman, he mused. But for now, it was time to ease out of the range of fire.

      “Well, you two ladies have a lot to catch up on, so I’ll leave you—” he looked at Marta before momentarily linking his fingers with Sydney’s and holding her hand up “—in these very capable hands.” Before breaking the connection, he raised Sydney’s hand to his lips and kissed it.

      Annoyance pricked at Marta. She wasn’t his to leave anywhere. Why did he just assume he could take possession of her, as if she were some wild strawberry growing in the field, waiting to be picked?

      “Very considerate of you,” she said coolly.

      If she meant to put him off, she was going to have to do a lot better than that, he thought. Ike merely grinned, tickled by her tone. “Good thing I didn’t take off my parka.”

      “Me, next!” Sara held up her hand to Ike to be kissed. She looked at Marta over her shoulder. “Did you know Ike’s French?”

      “I knew he was something,” Marta murmured.

      The laugh was low, unsettling. When Ike reached for her hand, Marta reflexively pulled it behind her back. He didn’t press the matter. Instead, he inclined his head. “Nice meeting you, darlin’.”

      Marta raised her chin, a challenge in her eyes. “My name is Marta.”

      The grin grew wider, sexier. “Yes, I know, darlin’. I always pay attention, especially when there’s a pretty woman involved.”

      Sydney moved between them again, escorting him the few steps to the front door. Afraid that Marta might say something to spoil her plans. She hooked her arm through Ike’s. “Thanks for coming with me, Ike.”

      Genuine affection shone in his eyes when he looked at Sydney. “Always a pleasure spending time with you, you know that.”

      Impulse pushed an idea into Sydney’s head. She’d planned on moving slowly, but maybe a full-scale attack would be the better way to go. After all, there were only two weeks with which to work.

      “Come for dinner tonight. We’re having your favorite.”

      The Kerrigan table already boasted of a dish he was interested in, Ike mused. “Don’t go to any extra trouble for me. I’d come if you were serving shoe leather. It’s the company, not the food, that I look forward to, darlin’. See you tonight.” His eyes took in everyone in the room, resting fleetingly on Marta before he eased himself out the door.

      Walking back to the all-terrain vehicle he’d left parked in the garage that he’d helped Shayne renovate six months ago, Ike began whistling softly. The wind stole the melody less than a couple of seconds after it emerged.

      He glanced back over his shoulder, smiling. It looked as if things were going to be rather interesting for a little while.

      If nothing else, Marta Jensen was certainly very easy on the eye. Seeing her without her parka had only confirmed his suspicions. Beneath it was a petite lady, small-boned and graceful—her wobbly descent from the airplane notwithstanding.

      He’d watched her at the airport. There was a certain confidence in her walk, a certain tantalizing rhythm to the way her hips moved. The fact that she regarded him with a wide margin of suspicion and a heavy dose of wariness only made the pot at the end of the game that much more tempting to win.

      He loved winning, but more than that, he loved a good challenge. And he loved a woman with a mind. There was no question that Marta Jensen was both.

      Yes, indeed, it looked as if the next couple of weeks were going to be highly enjoyable.

      The moment she met him, Marta knew why Sydney had elected to remain in Hades even after she’d discovered that the man she’d flown out to marry had run off with his ex-fiancé the day before she’d arrived. Tall, dark and handsome to a fault, Dr. Shayne Kerrigan looked like every woman’s dream. Even better, he exuded strength and intelligence, Marta thought. He was capable of listening without flattering.

      But the man Marta now found herself sitting across from at Sydney’s dining room table was the antithesis of Shayne Kerrigan.

      Well, maybe not quite. Both men were exceedingly good-looking, although in Ike’s case the face was more rugged, the physique more muscular. Ike, according to the information Sydney had insisted on providing, had worked with his hands, and his mind, in one capacity or another from a very early age.

      Right now, all she was aware of was that each time she looked in his direction—not at him, mind you, just in his direction—he was looking at her. Looking at her as if she were something rare and special he’d had the good fortune to stumble across.

      Perhaps once, her head would have been turned and she might even have been smitten with him. Certainly she would have been flattered by the dark, sexy appraisal and the seductive smile that curved his generous mouth. But that was then.

      And this was now.

      If pressed, she would have admitted that his eyes, deep and brown, reminded her of a hot cup of coffee with just a hint of cream in it. A hot cup of coffee on a very cold winter’s night.

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