Stand-In Mum. Marie Ferrarella

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СКАЧАТЬ roots of her dark red hair and down her throat. Marta could feel it, and by the look in his eyes knew that he could see it. She damned this one legacy from a mother she barely knew: translucent skin. It allowed her every emotion to be telegraphed so clearly. If she had skin his color—bronzed, she thought as if he had an intimate relationship with the elusive sun—no one would ever guess at what she was feeling.

      Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. “I won’t be doing any squeezing.” And that, she figured, got her message across loud and clear. She was here to visit Sydney and her family. There was no room in her schedule for penciled-in recreational activities that involved egotistical men.

      He glossed over her words. “Then I’ll be the poorer for it, darlin’.”

      Seeing Sydney reaching for the door, Ike opened his own and jumped down into the snow. Rounding the nose of the plane quickly, he presented himself at her side by the time she’d opened the door, ready to assist her from the plane.

      Amusement played across Sydney’s lips. “Looking to do a good deed?” she asked, as he carefully helped her from the plane. “Why don’t you help—” She didn’t have time to finish.

      Disembarking from the plane, Marta found that her legs had suddenly transformed themselves from solid flesh and bone to rubbery oatmeal. She gasped as she found herself keeling over. Ike swung around and caught her before she fell face-first into the snow.

      The feel of his arms, strong and sure, closing instantly around her, ignited Marta’s indignation. It also created a spark of something else within her that ultimately went to fuel her indignation even more. She didn’t like that hot, fast, upward spike she felt, didn’t like it at all.

      With a toss of her head, she sent the hood of her parka slipping off to rest on her shoulders. Hair the color of flame at twilight began a hopeless duel with the wind that was picking up. It was the wind, not proximity, that snatched her breath away, she told herself. Like a reigning gypsy queen, she raised her head regally. “I’m perfectly capable of standing up on my own.”

      Ike withdrew his hands, holding them aloft in the air like a man staring down the bore of a red-hot .44. “Anything you say, darlin’.”

      But she wasn’t capable of standing up on her own. At least, not at the moment. Taking another step proved that. Feeling wobbly as well as chagrined, she threw her hand out and braced herself against the side of the Cessna. She regretted it instantly. The metal felt incredibly cold against her fingertips. She shoved her hand in her pocket, praying for the return of equilibrium.

      In answer to her prayer, Ike took hold of her elbow as if he were escorting her onto the dance floor of her senior prom. “This happens sometimes with first-time flyers,” he assured her easily. From her pallor and her questions, he took it for granted that this was her first time in a plane this size. “It takes a second or two to get your land legs back.”

      Grateful for the momentary respite, Marta tried to understand the strange feeling in her lower body. “I thought that was only with ships.”

      He grinned again. She wished he’d stop that.

      Ike patted the side of the plane. “This is a ship.” He glanced at Sydney, knowing that she agreed. “A ship of the air, and someday, when I have the time, this fine woman is going to teach me how to navigate it, aren’t you?”

      Pulling her parka as close around her as she could, Sydney began to lead the way to her house. It was only three, but it was growing dark already. Though she loved it here, she’d be glad when summer was more than just a distant memory. “You’d be better off having Shayne teach you.”

      Still holding firmly onto Marta’s elbow, he hooked his other arm through Sydney’s. He didn’t want to risk having her fall. “You’re underestimating yourself, darlin’. Besides—” his eyes danced “—you’re a lot lovelier to look at than Shayne ever was.”

      Sydney knew it was just Ike’s way of talking. Flattery, plain and simple. But there were times when she loved the sound of it. With a shake of her head, she sighed. “How is it that Shayne never learned to talk like you?”

      His laugh was deep and hearty. Momentarily letting go of Marta’s elbow, he raised his gloved finger to his lips.

      “Sh, we don’t make fun of the slow-witted.” He took hold of Marta’s elbow again without even looking her way. “Besides, he’s the one you married, not me.”

      “You never asked,” Sydney deadpanned.

      It was his turn to sigh.

      “I guess that makes me the slow-witted one then, doesn’t it?” And then he turned his dark eyes toward Marta, the movement so unexpected that it caught her completely off guard. As did the gleam she saw in those eyes. Marta felt as if she’d suddenly been put on notice. “Maybe the fates have decided to give me a second chance by bringing your friend to my doorstep.”

      It took Marta a minute to rally, but rally she did. She’d been in this place before, on the receiving end of a charmer’s compliments. Roses with hidden thorns. She wasn’t about to get scratched again.

      “I believe we’re approaching Sydney’s doorstep, not yours,” Marta said pointedly.

      But rather than be put off the way she’d expected him to be, Ike merely nodded his approval as he glanced toward Sydney. “Beautiful and quick, too. They really do raise wonderful women in the lower forty-nine, don’t they?”

      Marta narrowed her eyes again. “Why don’t you go there yourself and see?”

      The wind whipped her hair against his cheek, evoking a warm feeling within him. “Maybe I will,” he agreed. “Someday.”

      Sydney could only smile and shake her head at the exchange. If Ike had ever had any intention of leaving Hades, or Alaska itself for that matter—the way so many others did as soon as they reached legal age—he wouldn’t have worked so hard to make a life for himself here.

      He’d started out in his teens. Behind that devastating smile, Sydney had discovered, was a man with a plan. Ike had worked hard until he could purchase an interest in the local saloon. For some, that would have been enough. For Ike, it had only been a start.

      One foothold had led to another until he was the owner, holding the title to the establishment along with the cousin he’d insisted on bringing in with him. Over the years, his holdings had increased. Now he held the deed to more than one piece of real estate, with grand plans of expanding the town. He meant to bring civilization, and the next century, to Hades.

      While melting the heart of every woman in Alaska.

      “Ike would never leave us,” Sydney told Marta matter-of-factly as they approached her front door. “All the women in the area would rise up in protest. They’d probably take over the airport just to keep him here.” She was only half joking. The men far outnumbered the women here, but there was still a soft spot in each female heart for Ike LeBlanc.

      “Ah, now, darlin’, you’re making me blush.”

      Making him blush, her foot. Marta frowned. She was well-acquainted with his type. All talk and a few magic tricks, smoke and mirrors, but no substance whatsoever. She’d been there, done that, and had had her heart irrevocably broken. The pieces of it had never been glued together properly.

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