Her Favorite Husband. Caron Todd

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      “What the hell are you doing here?”

      Not only surprised, then. Angry, still.

      She climbed onto the bar stool beside his and tried for light-hearted sparkle. “I’m exploring.”

      “In a skirt and heels?”

      “Wrinkle-free fabric.” She scrunched a handful of the soft wool-silk blend to demonstrate its Far North worthiness. It was her favorite travel suit, charcoal-gray to show she meant business, with a ruby-red camisole and a small, but real ruby pendant adding not all business. She lifted a foot, resting it on one of his. “Close-toed shoes.”

      “Ah. Practical.”

      “Always.”

      He moved his foot out from under hers.

      So far, the visit wasn’t going very well. What had she expected? Something more. A hug. A bit of delight to go with the surprise.

      He looked enticing, if excessively casual, in denims and a navy blue shirt, his hair forming those little curls over his collar the way it did when he put off getting it cut. He sounded enticing, too, his voice as deep as she remembered. All around him, though, was a wall of bristling, possibly antagonistic, energy.

      She smiled at the bartender, who smiled back, blue eyes crinkling at the corners. She was tempted to point him out as an example of how to give a friendly greeting. “Could I have a glass of red wine? Something fruity. Beaujolais? A small glass, or I’ll get sleepy.”

      “Dangerous thing for an explorer,” Ian said.

      Carrying on a light-hearted conversation all by herself wasn’t easy. Sarah swiveled from side to side, aware that he noticed the way her skirt tightened as she moved. “Let me say, in the interests of full disclosure and absolute clarity that although in a sense I am exploring, I’m not an actual explorer. I’m here because I’m taking a holiday.”

      “In Yellowknife.”

      “People do.”

      “Some people.”

      “Lots of people.”

      “Not you.”

      “You’re so sure? What if I’ve changed?”

      “Enough to choose this place for a bedtime drink?”

      Her gaze followed his to the moose head over the bar, then to a mangy bear near the washroom, stretched upright, its mouth open in a silent, toothy roar.

      “Which brings me back to my question,” he said.

      “Why I’m here?” For the first time since yesterday morning, when she’d begun to make her plans, Sarah saw that it was a very good question. Popped by to see you was the only answer she had. Popped fourteen hundred miles from home to see him. To see this cold-eyed man. “Do I need a reason to travel?”

      She knew what he was thinking. To travel to this particular city, to this particular bar stool, yes, she needed a very good, very sensible reason. Behind his controlled expression, she was sure a fight was brewing. A continuation of the last one, after a ten year pause.

      It was hard not to be disappointed. This trip had seemed like the best idea in the world. She’d been so pleased with it she’d hugged it to herself all day long. She must have been imagining an alternate universe, where Ian would love the idea, too, because in this one they never spoke to each other. No birthday calls, no Christmas cards. No hint that either of them would be glad to see the other.

      Except, she had been glad.

      “Of course you don’t need a reason.” He managed to sound both mild and cold. “It goes without saying you can travel wherever you want. I’m curious about your choice of destination, that’s all.”

      “I’ve always wanted to see the North. Ever since I first heard about Santa.”

      It amused her, but there wasn’t even a hint of a sparkle in his eyes, nearly black, and shuttered at the moment. And beautiful. Whether they were closing her out or drawing her in as far as she could go, she had always found them beautiful.

      “You’re annoyed,” she said.

      “I’m not.”

      “All this time, and you’re still annoyed.”

      “More like…skeptical.”

      “All this time and you’re still skeptical.”

      He leaned on one elbow, rotating his beer bottle and watching her. She couldn’t believe the distance he was putting between them. How could distrust last so long? She had as much reason to doubt him, but she wasn’t giving him the cold shoulder.

      The pieces of her plan had fallen together so easily—didn’t that mean it was a good one? The stars were aligned, and all that?

      The thing was, she’d met someone. Someone kind, handsome, smart, funny. More or less perfect. Of course, any man she liked seemed perfect at first.

      Dithering about starting a new relationship was unusual for her, but she felt unsure of herself. Coming here seemed like a chance to get some perspective. Soon she’d be busy with the manuscript of Elizabeth Robb’s upcoming book, but right now there was nothing on her desk that Oliver, her partner at Fraser Press, couldn’t take care of for her.

      Once she’d accepted the idea of getting on a plane, she’d decided to follow a few days in Yellowknife with a trip to Winnipeg. Visiting her parents always settled her down. Then she’d go to Three Creeks, an hour and a half from the city, to encourage and inspire her most breadwinning author. Liz had been disturbingly silent about future projects. That could mean no book the year after next. No one wanted that—not Liz, not her readers and not Fraser Press.

      The only imperfect part of the plan was that if Sarah had thought of it a day or two earlier, she could have saved Liz some hefty courier fees and picked up the current manuscript and illustrations in person.

      But now, already, the whole alignment thing seemed in doubt.

      She looked at Ian, who was busily ignoring her. They’d only been together for ten minutes. If the visit were a book, this would be the rough draft stage. With some effort, it could still end well.

      IAN LOOKED TO THE SIDE one more time. Yup, still there, still her and still looking at him like a kid with a windup toy.

      Well, he wasn’t going to play.

      He knew he was behaving badly. If he could be civil while interviewing poachers who hunted elephants for their ivory, or coffee growers who slashed and burned Amazonian rain forest, couldn’t he be civil to Sarah?

      A hard knot in his stomach indicated that no, maybe he couldn’t.

      Saying she had slashed and burned her way through his life might be overdoing it. But she had bashed her way through a year or two of it.

      Not that all the СКАЧАТЬ