Stand-In Mom
Autorzy
Marie Ferrarella
Lektury
18,3K
Rozdziały
15
Chapter One
“Oh, my God, Sydney, just look at you!”
There was very little that could catch Marta Jensen off guard. Until this moment, she would have felt safe in saying that after teaching overenergized nine-year-olds for the last three years at Alderwood School, there was nothing that could surprise her enough to cause her mouth to drop open like a slow-witted cartoon character.
But seeing her best friend since college in her seventh month of pregnancy, looking as if she’d swallowed not one but possibly two beach balls, negated that. Marta stared, in wonder and in glee, all without consciously being aware that she was doing it.
The carry-on suitcase she’d toted down with her slipped from Marta’s fingers, landing with a thud on the floor and just barely missing contact with her toes, as she flung her arms around Sydney Elliot.
Sydney Kerrigan now, Marta mentally amended, blinking back tears of pure delight and joy, something else she hadn’t thought she was capable of. But she’d missed this dear, wonderful friend, missed her with a passion she seldom allowed herself to feel. It had been much too long since she had seen her.
And was there a lot to see now, she thought, as Sydney’s belly pressed against her in a hug.
“Sydney, wow,” was all she could manage. It was one thing to intellectually know that Sydney was pregnant; it was another to see it for herself. Sydney had sent long, glowing letters about her life and her condition, but nothing took the place of actually seeing her best friend rounded out with child.
Marta sucked in her breath as Sydney’s baby gave her a swift kick.
Laughing, sniffling, Marta stood back just enough to get another look at Sydney. Amazement hung on tenaciously. Sydney, pregnant. Sydney, a mother.
Well, she was already that, Marta reminded herself, thanks to the two children Shayne and his late wife had had. But still, it was going to take an awful lot of getting used to for her.
Marta kept her hands laced through both of Sydney’s, as if afraid that if she lost that contact, Sydney would just disappear. She’d missed her a great deal this last year, so much more than even she would have thought. Outwardly gregarious, Marta had learned long ago not to make any attachments. Too many people had come and gone from her life.
But Sydney had been different. Sydney had been like the sister she’d always wanted. The family she’d never had. That was why she’d abruptly decided to make use of the break that the year-round school where she taught, with its eight-weeks-on, two-weeks-off schedule offered, conquer her fear of flying and come out to see Sydney. She hadn’t quite managed to conquer the fear, but seeing Sydney had been worth enduring the unsettling, panicky feeling that had accompanied her all the way from Omaha.
It was still hard for her to assimilate. Marta had only recently gotten herself to believe and accept that over a year ago solid, steadfast Sydney had actually uprooted her life, sold off most of her possessions and come out to Alaska. To a town that could easily have fit into any corner of any one of Omaha’s myriad of neighborhoods, and done it with room to spare. And now she was the wife and assistant of the only doctor for a hundred miles.
Maybe it shouldn’t be so hard to assimilate, Marta mused. A year ago Sydney had made up her mind to start a new life somewhere else, and Sydney had always known what she wanted.
Sydney had always had purpose, direction. Unlike me, Marta thought ruefully.
Her eyes swept over her friend. Nearly seven months pregnant, Sydney carried her unborn child with the same grace that she carried herself. Tears persisted in gathering, smarting Marta’s eyes.
This was silly. Tears were for sadness, and this was a happy time. Marta blinked them away and shook her head in wonder. “I’m sorry, I still can’t believe you’re pregnant.”
Sydney laughed. “What, that kick didn’t convince you?” Slipping one hand from Marta’s, Sydney placed it over her swollen belly. “Whoever is in there is going to be born alert and running. I’ve got enough activity going on inside me for two babies.”
Marta grasped Sydney’s hand again, her eyes wide. “You’re not carrying—”
“No.” The denial was quick, firm and accompanied with just a slight shudder. “Shayne says there’s only one unruly occupant in there.” Grinning at the chilling, mixed blessing of a multiple birth, Sydney rolled her eyes. “Please, I’ve got my hands full with Sara and Mac. Two new babies would be more than I think I could sanely handle.”
Sydney always underestimated herself, Marta thought. She was thoroughly convinced that Sydney could handle anything that life threw her way. Sydney had already proved that twice over, bouncing back from not one failed relationship, but two.
Too bad bouncing back wasn’t contagious, Marta thought before firmly dismissing the subject. She was here to enjoy her visit with Sydney, however brief, to catch up on Sydney’s life here, not dwell on her own past.
“That’s why I’m here,” Marta reminded her. “To help you ‘handle’ as much as I can in the next two weeks. And now that I’ve made my maiden flight, I’ll be back the very next vacation.” Marta smiled down at the swell of Sydney’s belly. “To be here when you give birth to that bundle you’re carting around—or shortly thereafter.”
Sydney had never asked Marta outright to come to Alaska—only said how much she wished her friend could be here and see the place for herself. Marta had never before been off the ground, choosing to take any overland route available to where she wanted to go. Sydney knew what making this trip had cost Marta and was grateful beyond words that she had come. She couldn’t imagine anyone she would have wanted in her corner more than Marta—with the exception of Shayne.
It had been a little over a year since she had last seen Marta. Then they had parted with Marta’s reluctant good wishes ringing in her ears and Marta’s dubious expression imprinted on her mind. Sydney knew that Marta had expected her to return to Omaha on the very next flight. When things abruptly turned sour on her, she almost had. But refusing to be defeated by the disappointment she’d initially discovered, Sydney had dug in and stayed.
Now, she was eternally grateful that she hadn’t turned around and come back to what had then been home to her. Glad that she’d remained here to make a life for herself.
Several lives, she amended silently, affection filling her as she passed her hand over her belly and thought of the child she and Shayne had created. And of the children they would create in the future. It was a good life. A life that she knew Marta would love if only she gave it half a chance.
She meant to try to convince her of that every opportunity she found. More than anyone, Marta deserved to finally be happy.
But first things first. Marta had to get settled in, Sydney thought. Then she could begin working on her.
The taller of the two, Sydney slipped an arm around Marta’s shoulders. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you finally decided to bite the bullet and come out here.”
Marta curved her mouth—a generous mouth for a woman whose other features were so delicate—in amusement. “A little healthy panic never hurt anyone, I guess. Besides, I couldn’t stand not being able to see you like this for myself, at least once.”
Excited over seeing Marta again, Sydney had completely forgotten about the man who had accompanied her in the Cessna on the trip over here—until he cleared his throat. Loudly and with amusement.
Sydney flushed warmly as she turned toward him. His easygoing smile only made her feel worse for the oversight. “Where are my manners? Marta, this is—”
Marta held her hand up, stopping Sydney’s introduction in mid-sentence. Though leery of good-looking men the way only a woman who has been badly burned could be, she still had never been slow in appreciating the sight of one. And this one was good-looking with a capital G-L. Tall, and obviously muscular beneath the unzipped parka he had on, he had an olive complexion and cheekbones that could set the rhythm of a woman’s heart off by several beats. There was no question in Marta’s mind that the man with jet-black hair standing behind Sydney was nothing short of drop-dead gorgeous.
Just as Sydney had told her he would be.
“Yes, I know who he is.” Marta moved forward, throwing her arms around the man who looked a little surprised, as well as faintly amused, at her declaration. She liked the way he smiled. Damn, but Sydney was lucky. “Sydney said you’d be the most devastatingly handsome man at the airport.”
Momentarily overcome with emotion, Marta hugged just a tad harder. Sydney looked happy, and her letters had fairly sung of contentment. Any man who could do that for her best friend earned Marta’s unqualified affection and gratitude. “I thought she was exaggerating, but it looks like for once in her life, Sydney was making an understatement.”
On her toes, Marta gave Sydney’s companion what she felt was an appropriate, friendly kiss in greeting, her enthusiasm and happiness getting the better of her.
That Ike LeBlanc was surprised to have a petite, attractive redhead all but wrap herself around him within five minutes of their first meeting was putting it mildly. That this same woman then went on to kiss him with enthusiasm only compounded that surprise.
But Ike was never one to be caught off guard for more than a single heartbeat. Responding to stimuli faster than any clinical biochemist could ever have prayed for, Ike wrapped his arms around the woman’s trim, tempting frame and hugged her with the same enthusiasm she had displayed.
He returned not only the hug, but the kiss as well. With verve. If she was going to catch him in a lip lock, then he damn well was going to make it worth both their whiles.
With a barely perceptible sound of pleasure escaping, Ike tightened his embrace and deepened the kiss that God and this woman had chosen to bestow on him. Deepened it and felt his blood warming to an incredible, tantalizing degree. With the shortage of women in not only Hades, but in Alaska itself, he didn’t get to do this nearly as often as he would have liked. He was not about to throw the opportunity away.
For the briefest of seconds, Marta’s head swirled and her pulse throbbed, as her very skin heated to the temperature of a much sought-after hot springs in this February wilderness. Her body melted in response, and had begun molding against his when her brain finally caught up to the rest of her, issuing orders like a strict commandant. She reeled in sheer horror, disgust and embarrassment.
What was going on here? This was Sydney’s husband for heaven’s sake, and he was kissing her as if they had been intimate with one another all their lives.
What was even worse was that she had just kissed him back.
Appalled, Marta wedged her hands up against the man’s chest, shoving him away as hard as she could to break contact.
Coming up for air, Marta felt her jaw slacken as, for the second time in a matter of minutes, her mouth dropped open in overwhelmed surprise. The power of speech was temporarily and completely beyond her grasp. She could only stare at the man who had just effectively destroyed her cherished belief that no matter what, time moved relentlessly forward. It hadn’t moved on. For one tiny moment there, it had stood perfectly still, content to linger and hear nothing but the pounding of her heart and the soft sound made by her knees as they dissolved.
Chagrined and heartbroken for Sydney, as well as furious with this man who didn’t deserve to be her husband, Marta searched vainly for her tongue. She would have slapped him with all her might if Sydney hadn’t been standing right there, watching.
And how could she be standing there, watching, when her husband had all but seduced her best friend in a crowded airport?
Questions, oaths and outrage all scrambled through her mind. Marta swung around to face Sydney, apologies mingling with denouncements pulsating in her brain.
To her overwhelming surprise, Sydney looked completely unfazed. Maybe even a little amused and pleased. What was the matter with her? Had the overwhelmingly cold weather frozen her brain and snapped her brittle self-respect? Sydney’s husband was in the same shameful category as Alex Kelley had been.
“Sydney, don’t you mind?” Marta cried in dazed wonder.
The question struck Sydney as odd. “Why should I mind? Unless, of course, you didn’t like it.”
Although, Sydney thought, that hardly seemed likely. In the time she’d been here, Sydney had never met a single woman who complained about being kissed by Ike LeBlanc. Complained about not being kissed by Ike was more like it. Ike, with his dark good looks and his warm, sexy smile was what every woman’s dreams were made of. With the affection of an indulgent sister, Sydney was very surprised it hadn’t gone to his head. But sexy or not, Ike was well grounded, which was what made him so likable. And what made him Ike.
“Unless I didn’t like it?” Marta repeated dumbly.
“Did you?” Ike asked as he looked at Marta, mildly amused by the strangely disoriented expression on her face. She wasn’t alone in feeling that way. He had to admit that Sydney’s friend had managed to scramble more than one circuit on his motherboard with her kiss. Sweet and almost seductively submissive, the kiss had knocked him for a loop.
That rarely happened.
The lady bore scrutiny. A great deal of close scrutiny, he promised himself.
“No, I didn’t,” Marta said, squaring her shoulders. It was a bald-faced lie, but it was the only admission he was going to get out of her, the monster. What was he looking for, accolades? With his wife, ripe with his baby, standing almost at his elbow? Her eyes narrowed, shooting daggers at him. “And that’s not the point!”
Confused, Sydney and Ike exchanged looks. Sydney raised a single shoulder, then let it fall, silently letting him know that she had no more clue as to what was going on than he did.
She looked at Marta, completely bewildered. She knew all about Marta’s one failed, traumatic venture into love. Knew, too, that Marta’s heart, so eager to love, had been repeatedly bruised during her childhood when she had been passed around from one foster home to another. She’d had more than enough to overcome.
Had something else happened in the last year that Marta hadn’t written to her about? “What is the point, Marta?” Sydney asked.
“The point—” Marta felt as if she were strangling on her anger. She huffed, then began again. “The point is that your husband kissed me as if…as if…” She couldn’t find the words to define what had just happened here. “Well, he just kissed me.” Anyone with eyes could have seen just how.
Sydney looked around, half expecting to see Shayne appear. But that wasn’t possible. Still, Marta looked deadly serious.
“Shayne? When?”
Marta threw up her hands, exasperated. Was Sydney blind?
“Now.” She waved a disparaging hand at Ike. “Here.” For heaven’s sake, Sydney had been looking straight at her, at them, when it happened.
It was only then that Sydney grinned again, understanding flooding through her. Grinned while Ike laughed. The only one not in on the joke was Marta. But by the way Sydney was looking at Ike, she was definitely getting an inkling.
In a voice that was deadly still and steely, she asked, “You’re not Shayne?” knowing the answer before he said a word.
Searching for breath, unable to form a word yet, Ike could only shake his head in reply. No wonder she’d looked so upset. She thought her best friend’s husband was hitting on her. The very thought of Shayne ever doing anything remotely improper was utterly amusing to Ike. Shayne was as good as they came. The man would die as soon as look at another woman in anything but a professional capacity. His heaven began and ended with Sydney, and Ike envied his friend more than a little. It was something he’d never experienced himself.
“I’m sorry, Marta.” Sydney struggled to catch her breath. The last thing she wanted was for Marta to think she was laughing at her. “This is my fault. I never sent you photographs of Shayne. The ones from the wedding were lost,” she explained with a trace of sorrow, “and I never got around to getting a new camera after the moose stepped on mine. Long story,” she added quickly in response to the questioning look on Marta’s face. She placed a hand on Marta’s shoulder, silently entreating her not to be angry. “I’m really sorry. I guess when you saw him with me—”
Tactfully, Sydney avoided referring to Marta’s comment about Ike’s looks. And when you came right down to it, she thought, Ike and Shayne did look a great deal alike. Both men were tall, both had dark hair—although Ike’s was darker—and both were as handsome as any woman could pray for. She could see why Marta had made the mistake.
“I just assumed he was Shayne,” Marta concluded for Sydney.
That still didn’t excuse the man for kissing a stranger as if she were his long-lost love, Marta thought ruefully. Her body temperature still hadn’t returned to normal. But now it was annoyance, rather than any physical response, that was the cause.
Turning, Marta stood waiting for enlightenment. “Who are you, anyway?”
“A very blessed errand boy, darlin’.” With a flourish, Ike bowed grandly. The engaging grin he flashed shot straight into her like a bulb exploding in a dark room when the light switch was first thrown.
“Shayne couldn’t make it,” Sydney explained quickly. “He had a medical emergency at the last minute, and he absolutely didn’t want me flying alone.”
There’d been no choice, really. Shayne was at the Inuit village, taking care of their housekeeper’s youngest grandson, who had suddenly come down with pneumonia. That was the only reason he’d reluctantly allowed her to fly to Anchorage instead of piloting the plane himself. Sydney was the only other pilot in the area—thanks to his lessons—and there was no way she could come to meet Marta’s plane if she didn’t fly in herself. There was also no way she would have allowed Marta to land without someone being there to meet her. As it was, she and Ike had been late in arriving because of unexpected turbulence.
“Marta, this is Klondyke LeBlanc, Shayne’s best friend and owner of the Salty Saloon,” Sydney added. “He was kind enough to fill in for Shayne and come with me to the airport.”
“Part owner,” Ike amended. The other half belonged to his cousin, Jean Luc, who had been dragged into the business venture almost against his will. But Ike had thought it a sound investment, the first of several eventually, and he had wanted Luc to share in the profits. And the future.
As if they hadn’t just kissed with more passion than propriety only moments earlier, Ike politely held out his hand to Marta. “My friends all call me Ike.”
Her lips forming a reproving frown, Marta placed her hand in his with all the feeling of a woman coming in contact with a reptile. A poisonous one at that. The last thing she wanted right now was a new friend whose kisses tasted like sin served up on a silver platter. There was already far too much on that platter for her to deal with at the moment without adding another complication.
Marta inclined her head, distant but polite. “Hello, Mr. LeBlanc.”
He read her message loud and clear. But living in Hades all his life, Ike had never been one to be intimidated by frost.
“Oh, don’t be that way, darlin’. After all, you were the one who kissed me—at least at first,” he added gallantly. His brown eyes were fairly shining with unsuppressed amusement. “I just enjoyed the ride. Can’t fault a man for that.”
Her eyes briefly locked with his.
“Yes,” Marta replied mildly, showing no emotion whatsoever, “I can.”
Sydney wasn’t fooled. She knew that beneath Marta’s polite exterior, her best friend was seething. This was not an auspicious beginning, but there definitely was hope. Sydney had her work cut out for her. She threaded her arm through Marta’s and looked over her shoulder at Ike.
“Why don’t you see about getting Marta’s luggage for her, Ike?” She nodded toward the luggage carousel, by now completely depleted except for two suitcases she recognized as Marta’s. “Don’t worry,” she assured Ike with a smile that was nothing short of conspiratorial. “Marta could never hold a grudge.”
Marta merely smiled. Oh, yes, she could, Marta thought, if she was humiliated. She hadn’t come out here to deal with some strange man, especially a good-looking, unattached Don Juan.
“You’ve been away for a year,” Marta reminded Sydney, her smile enigmatic.
Time made no difference. Sydney knew Marta’s heart.
“Some things,” Sydney allowed with confidence, “never change.”
And other things, Marta thought, unconsciously glancing back at Ike and his wide grin, did.
