“If you haven’t found a job then there’s no problem, dear. You can find one here just as well, or wait until the summer’s over and go back to the lower forty-eight. Though why anyone would like to live there is beyond me.” Something chimed in the background. “Oops! There’s the timer. Jeopardy is on. I’ve got to go, dear. Love you.”
“I’m not going to Alaska!” Andrea yelled, but it was too late. The line was dead.
For a moment she just stood there, staring at the receiver until the automated message came on. She slammed it in its cradle, grabbed the half-eaten chocolate from Zoë and smacked it firmly on the orange counter. Pointless, now that it had been contaminated, but at least it was one thing in her life she could control.
“Granny bought you a ticket, huh?” Zoë murmured sympathetically, eyeing the bowl.
Eyes narrowed, Andrea inched it farther away. “No, she’s buying us tickets. On the Internet,” she said with mock anticipation, blue eyes wide. “And since I don’t have a job and as far as I know your job is mooching, there’s no problem, is there?” She shook her braided dark hair in disgust and popped the meringue in the oven, mentally reminding herself to put it on the top shelf so the ancient device wouldn’t scorch the bottoms. Carefully easing the frosted cake out of Zoe’s reach, she grabbed a fresh dishcloth and started to clean up.
“Sounds fun,” Zoë said absently, moving around her to lean on the mustard colored refrigerator. Her weave caught on the broken door handle and she grimaced, adjusting her position. “I’ve always wanted to see penguins.”
Andrea closed her eyes in exasperation. “They don’t have penguins at the North Pole, Zoë.” When she opened them again Zoë had the bowl and was seated at the table.
Giving up, Andrea joined her, eyeing the bowl wistfully. At the moment she wanted nothing more than to drown her troubles in a bowl of rich chocolate, but she’d already eaten her quota of heaven for the day. “I’m not going to Alaska,” she muttered rebelliously, almost to herself. Just the sight of that rapidly disappearing frosting was making her cranky. If there were justice in this world, Zoë would gain five pounds for every lick. Nobody should be able to live off snack cakes and pizza and still look like a prom queen.
Zoë just looked at her and licked the spoon.
“I’m not!” she insisted more vehemently. “Can you see me living with Granny for an entire summer? I’d go insane. Completely nuts. I mean…” She picked up a pen and tapped it on the table in agitated staccato. “All she does is ask me when I’m getting married, do I have a boyfriend….”
“How is Rob, anyway?” Zoë asked around the spoon.
“History.”
“Already?” she asked in surprise, going so far as to remove the spoon. “I figured you’d at least keep him around long enough to pop your cherry.”
“Zoë!” That was too much, even for her outspoken friend. “Maybe some of us like to wait until we’ve found someone worthy of the deed. Two months was enough to convince me that he wasn’t it.”
It had taken less time than that, but she’d been reluctant to admit it, even to herself. After all, she was twenty-three and she hadn’t dated more than four guys in her entire life. Zoë called her picky, and Andrea was starting to wonder if maybe she was a little too demanding. Not that she’d had a lot of offers in high school, being one of the unlucky late bloomers, and shy to boot. She’d hidden her nose in a book throughout most of her teen years and lugged around a huge stack that strained the seams of her backpack. She might as well have had the geek logo stamped across her pimply forehead.
Fortunately, things had changed. She’d learned to fit in, lost the glasses, and made a few friends. Her glossy brown hair was tamed with a chic cut and she’d discovered a sense of style. Her skin was smooth enough now that she hardly needed makeup, and she was in decent shape.
Occasionally, she even had a date—they just never made it past first base. She was really picky about kissing. If a guy didn’t know how to kiss, then it was doubtful he’d be good at anything else. Even if he might be, would it be worth putting up with garlic breath and cold slobber to find out?
Unfortunately, she’d had a run of bad kissers.
It wasn’t as if she didn’t have desire, and she wasn’t frigid or anything. She just wanted more than a brief relationship with a man she only sort-of liked. She wanted love. Magic. Was that too much to ask?
Zoë snorted. “It’s just a ring of tissue, girlfriend. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Unwilling to argue the point, Andrea waved the issue aside. “Anyway,” she said, getting back to the original question, “I’m not going to Alaska. She’s just going to have to understand. I’ll call her back, and this time she’ll listen.”
Zoë blinked, very slowly. “This is your Granny,” she said very carefully, as if to a particularly slow child. “The guilt will eat you if you don’t go.”
Andrea frowned. “I’m not going.”
“Care to bet?”
***
One week later Andrea found herself in a cab, heading for the house her grandmother maintained for a rich gentleman. She didn’t know much about the man, and at the moment she couldn’t remember his name. She was far too busy wishing she’d wormed out of this visit like Zoë, who’d simply told her Grandma that she’d take a rain check and gone about her merry way.
Andrea had no such luck.
So here she was, paying a cabbie an outrageous fare to take her far into the budding hills of Fairbanks. Actually they’d passed the city limits some time ago, and she wasn’t really sure quite where they were. She had a life back in Chicago—or soon would—and she didn’t have time to run off to the wilds and commune with the wolves or whatever the locals did out here.
The first sight of the house caught her by surprise, though it shouldn’t have. After all, if the man were rich enough to hire a caretaker then it would follow that he could afford a rather nice residence.Built of squared stone blocks and nestled halfway into the hillside, the house resembled nothing less than a small castle, complete with octagon towers and a slate roof. Diamond paned glass of an iridescent hue graced the spacious windows. The front doors were constructed of thick planks of wood banded with elaborate ironwork. Still dormant birches lined the gravel paved drive and the grass had yet to turn green on the well-clipped grounds.“Nice place,” the cabbie said as she handed him some money. “What’s it like inside?”
It hit her then—her grandma was her last living relative. If she died, that was it, no more family. She would be alone. She didn’t even have a boyfriend, wasn’t sure if she’d ever find someone to love.Ashamed of her selfish fears and wishing to give comfort, she jerked out of her review and knelt at her Grandmother’s feet to grasp her hand. Tears she wouldn’t have expected clouded her vision. “Are they sure? They can’t...fix it?”Grandma shook her head sadly, her own eyes misty. “No, sweetheart. They can’t.” She sniffed. “And I’d so looked forward to seeing great-grandbabies, too.”Andrea flinched. How man
It must be the matchmaking. If Matilda thought there was a man there, she’d strand her in Antarctica with him. Andrea wished she could get her on the phone now and vent. She felt certain she’d feel far more romantically inclined if she were lazing half-naked on a tropical beach. Where was the logic?“Such harsh words from such a pretty lady,” came a man’s husky voice.Andrea froze in the middle of a tirade against her grandmother and a vow to hate her new employer on sight. Oh, please, no, she thought without turning around. It had to be him.“At least I assume the lady is exceptional; the view from behind is certainly promising,” he continued in that de
Cautiously, she ventured, “Does that mean you’ll quit flirting with me?”He smiled. “It means I’ll be more subtle.”Her expression darkened, but before she could comment, Fallon entered the kitchen. He stopped dead. His head snapped up, and his nostrils flared as if testing the air. Piercing green eyes flashed her way, dark with indefinable emotion. “Andrea, I presume.”Mathin felt a wave of possessiveness flare as he watched her shift uncomfortably. He didn’t like the way Fallon stared.“Yeah. But I think there’s been some kind of mistake.” Andrea pl
He took it with two fingers, almost visibly holding his breath. “Hmm,” he said after a quick scan, during which he moved toward the counter and placed it on the top. “I knew of no illness. It was my understanding that she was calling you in as a temporary replacement while she went on vacation.”“Ha! I knew it.” She whacked her closed fist against her thigh, vindicated. “She’s up to her old tricks again.”Fallon edged discreetly away, earning a bemused frown from Andrea and a smirk from Mathin. “And those would be?”“Matchmaking,” she all
Andrea laughed awkwardly. She didn’t know him well, but she’d swear he was dead serious. “Why would you want to do that?”She didn’t see him move, but suddenly he held one of her braids in his hand. His attention fixed on the silky skein, he gently looped it around his finger. His eyes closed as he drew the sable tip across his lips. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek.She made a small sound, protest or invitation. His eyes opened, and he allowed the braid to slip between his fingers, setting her free.It was only after he’d left the room that Andrea discovered he hadn’t answered her. Suddenly she realized she stood there, watching an empty door
“And how is your fearless leader?” Mathin asked dryly, pocketing the packet. No doubt Fallon had already inserted the unobtrusive device, even though Andrea was nowhere in sight. Nor was she likely to invade Fallon’s private study.Not that it looked much like a study, save for the laptop computer on the desk and the rows of books. No, with the numerous sheer red curtains and golden accents, it appeared to be fitted for more pleasurable pursuits. The impression was only reinforced by the red velvet chaise lounge between the diamond paned windows and the statue of twined lovers in the corner.It was a vivid reminder that although Fallon might appear stuffy due to the distractions of this visit, he was still a sensualist at heart.
Satisfied, she left the sitting room and headed upstairs, intent on cleaning up. At the top of the curving staircase, though, she paused, looking at the first door. Should she take a peek inside? After all, she hadn’t really explored up here in the short time she’d been here and her duties did extend to cleaning these rooms now and then, didn’t they?Of course the fact that she knew it to be Mathin’s room had nothing to do with it.Whatever she’d expected to find as the door swung silently open, it was not the plain, almost austere room within. If her grandmother had ever been here, it didn’t show, for there wasn’t an ounce of decoration anywhere. The only point of interest in the entire room was lying on the fawn colored suede