Alaska Home. Debbie Macomber

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      The waiter came for their order, and Allison took five minutes to give hers. She explained precisely how she wanted her salad. He’d never met a woman who requested sliced cucumbers on the side. And that wasn’t all—she had to have her radishes cut a certain way and only on one half of the salad. He was impressed that the waiter could write it all down and keep a straight face.

      While Allison was giving her detailed instructions, the memory of his dinner with Mariah at the Sourdough Café came to mind. There’d been no talk of salad ingredients with her. Nor did she drag him into ridiculous conversations about grams of fat and hot fudge sundaes.

      Unfortunately the dinner conversation didn’t improve. Allison discussed the color of her fingernail polish in great detail. When Christian introduced another topic, she found a way of immediately bringing it back to herself and telling him about a new skin cream on the market.

      It became something of a game, watching her manipulate the conversation to reflect her own interests—such as they were. Not once did she ask about the people she’d met on her brief trip to Hard Luck.

      “Oh, I’ve got a new job now,” she said casually when he mentioned her old one. “Actually this is the second job I’ve had in the past year.”

      Christian nodded in seeming interest, and she went on, “When I met you I was working for Pierce. He was a friend of my old boyfriend, Cary. But after I got back from Hawaii and went to see you, Pierce said he needed someone he could depend on. He didn’t like me taking vacation time.” She pursed her lips slightly. “He didn’t even pay me for my days off.”

      “How long did you work for Pierce?”

      “About a month.”

      “A month. You didn’t have any vacation time due you.”

      “That’s what Pierce said. Only he sounded really mad. You know, some men aren’t very nice. I worked for him one full month and his benefits were lousy.”

      Christian found it difficult to follow Allison’s conversation from that point forward. Several times she brought up names he didn’t know and didn’t care to know. Instead, his thoughts drifted to the year before, when he’d first met Allison. It astonished him that he hadn’t seen through her then. The woman wasn’t interested in working; she was looking for “benefits,” and it seemed to him she wasn’t just talking about paid holidays. She wanted a free ride.

      When at last they’d finished their meal and were walking out of the restaurant, Christian was once again aware of several envious stares. Only this time it didn’t raise his self-esteem. Sure, he’d enjoyed his blackened salmon, and the Washington-made wine had been some of the best he’d tasted, but he’d rather have eaten at Ben’s or the Sourdough Café. As for his dinner companion—the truth was, he’d become disenchanted.

      Later, when he dropped Allison off in front of her apartment, she flexed her long nails over his thigh. “Would you like to come up for a nightcap?” she asked. Her beautiful eyes invited him for more.

      “Not tonight.”

      He helped her out of the car and walked her to her door.

      “When will I see you again?” Her voice rolled from her lips like silk.

      Christian had made the mistake of letting her know his schedule. “I’ll call you,” he said.

      She gave him a hurt-little-girl pout. Her eyes rounded with a practiced look of disappointment. “You will phone me, won’t you, Chris? I’d be so unhappy if you didn’t.”

      Christian couldn’t get away fast enough. They’d be raising huskies in hell before he’d agree to spend a second evening with the likes of Allison Reynolds.

      After returning to his hotel room, Christian sat on the edge of the bed. It was hard to believe he’d been so blinded by her earlier. Because he was restless and angry, he reached for the phone and dialed Sawyer’s home number.

      “Hello,” Sawyer answered impatiently.

      “It’s me.”

      “Christian? What’s wrong? You don’t sound like yourself.”

      “I’m fine,” he said, then wondered if that was true. Rarely had he felt so disappointed, so disillusioned, but he couldn’t entirely blame his dinner date. His own willful blindness had something to do with it. “You remember Allison, don’t you?”

      “Of course I remember her. Listen, if you’re calling to sing her praises, you’ve caught me at an inopportune moment. You seem to have forgotten that Abbey and I are having our second honeymoon. She’s decided to re-create the night we attended the luau. Grass skirt, leis, the whole deal. D’you mind if we talk about the sex goddess another time?”

      “Trust me, Allison is no goddess.”

      “Not you, honey,” Christian heard his brother explain to Abbey. “I was talking about another sex goddess. One far less gorgeous than you.”

      “I’ll talk to you when I get home,” Christian said. Chuckling to himself, he replaced the receiver.

      A year ago, he’d been completely wrapped up in Allison. He wasn’t sure who’d changed in the past twelve months. Allison or him? But she wasn’t at all how he’d remembered her.

      A year ago, Christian had been thrilled when Allison had agreed, after some fast talking on his part, to give Hard Luck a try. Unfortunately, because of business commitments, he’d been unable to greet her personally when she arrived.

      For an entire year he’d believed someone had said or done something to offend her. When he discovered she’d returned to Seattle after only one night in Hard Luck, he’d been furious. Not that there was anything he could do while he was on the road. He’d made one feeble attempt to contact her, but because he was busy with other things, he’d dropped the matter.

      For twelve long months, he’d been convinced the people of Hard Luck had been at fault. The other women were jealous of Allison’s natural beauty and had gone out of their way to make her feel unwanted. The list of possibilities had mounted—but there’d only been one reason Allison had left. A reason he hadn’t seen until that very evening.

      A vain, selfish woman wouldn’t last more than a day in a town like Hard Luck. Allison had said it herself, although she’d meant something very different. And a day was exactly how long she’d stayed.

      * * *

      Mariah thought she’d never been this miserable. There wasn’t enough deep-dish pizza in the world to get her through the night, but that didn’t keep her away from the Hard Luck Café.

      Christian was in Seattle dining with the beautiful, sophisticated Allison Reynolds. He didn’t think she knew, but she did, and that made everything worse.

      Although she’d never met her, Mariah had heard everything she needed to know from the few women who remembered Allison’s brief visit.

      Right that moment, Christian and Allison were at a waterfront restaurant rated as one of the country’s top ten. Mariah didn’t want to consider what they’d do after dinner. Dancing. Stargazing. Kissing. The image of another woman СКАЧАТЬ