Starry Night (9 page)

This wasn’t working, Finn realized. When Carrie showed up unexpectedly, he’d been determined to freeze her out. She might have found him, but she wasn’t getting one iota of information out of him for that blasted article she intended to write. He would say as little as possible, speak in monosyllables, and be rid of her the instant the weather cleared.

And yet within the span of twenty-four hours she knew more about him than he ever intended. Only a few of his friends knew about his involvement with Pamela. If divulging personal information wasn’t bad enough, he’d been keenly tempted to take her in his arms and kiss her. The urge had been so strong that he’d had to leave the cabin. Then, upon his return, he’d found her standing on a chair and she’d fallen directly into his arms. He’d like to think she planned this, but her reactions said otherwise. He’d caught
her, and she’d looked up at him with those baby blues of hers, practically begging him to do the very thing he wanted to most. It felt as if he was about to go down for the third time before he gathered the strength to pull away. Not that it was easy. Finn liked to think of himself as disciplined and in control of his emotions. With Carrie, every bit of self-preservation flew out the proverbial window. He didn’t like it one bit.

What he needed, Finn decided, was a distraction. He figured if they could play cards, that would keep him sane until he was well rid of her. Then he’d come up with the bright idea of opening a bottle of wine. What
was
he thinking? If he found her beautiful before dinner, she was all the more so during. Stunning, breathtakingly beautiful, and for the life of him he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

He wanted to blame the wine, but she’d intoxicated him with little more than a smile. This was bad, and every minute he spent with her made it worse. Before he knew how it happened, he’d lowered his guard.

“Are you surprised?” she’d asked him. “You know, by how successful the book has been?”

He nodded. It baffled him even now. His editor routinely updated him on sales and his position on the
New York Times
bestseller list. “I’ve been told it’s a publishing sensation.”

“It is. Finn, thousands and thousands of people are reading
and loving your stories about Alaska. What ever made you think to write it?”

He smiled and leaned back, far more comfortable with her than he should have been. Before he knew it, he was telling her the story. “It was just one of those things. I read an article about the problems with kids having sedentary lives, obsessed with video games and television, and was astonished. While I was growing up, every day was an adventure. I thought if I wrote about some of my own experiences it might inspire kids and adults to step outside their front door and look at nature in an entirely different way.”

Carrie’s eyes brightened and Finn couldn’t have looked away from her if someone had offered him gold ingots.

“Did you know,” Carrie said, her smile warm and alive, “there are whole groups that are springing up across the country for organized hikes and other outdoor activities that your book inspired? This would never have happened if it hadn’t been for your book. I hope you realize what a strong influence
Alone
has been.”

He had heard about such groups, and it pleased him immensely.

The bottom line, Finn realized, was that he needed to keep his trap shut.

The problem was how comfortable he felt with Carrie. Hardly trying, she got him talking. He wasn’t sure what it was about her; maybe it was the pain that radiated from her
when she spoke of her college sweetheart. At first he assumed she’d made up the story in order to gain his trust. But the hurt he saw in her couldn’t be fabricated. No one was that good an actress.

All Finn could hope was that Sawyer didn’t get delayed come morning. There was still a chance that Finn might come out of this fiasco unscathed.

Carrie and Finn worked together washing and drying the dinner dishes. Although she pretended not to notice, he kept a careful watch on her. At one point she almost said she had no intention of stealing his silverware.

Dinner had been pleasant enough. The roast had been cooked to perfection, tender and succulent, and the vegetables were a wonderful complement. They’d chatted amicably during the meal, and Carrie was surprised how easy it was to talk to Finn. Without her prompting, he’d started to talk about the book, which shocked her. When he abruptly stopped, she realized he’d said far more than he’d ever intended.

“I like you, Finn,” she said as they claimed the chairs by the fire.

“Excuse me?” He arched one thick brow as though questioning her.

“With few exceptions, I’ve enjoyed spending this time with you.”

“Really?” Her announcement appeared to amuse him. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms as though he expected her to elaborate.

She rocked a bit before answering. “I’m not going to feed your ego.”

“Come on. Why not?”

Carrie had trouble holding back a smile “Okay, fine,” she said, “you’re so authentic. You are who you are and you aren’t willing to apologize for it. I like that.”

Actually, she was strongly attracted to the fact that Finn was a man’s man, but she wasn’t willing to admit it. His strength didn’t come from working out in some gym but from living life.

She found he was staring at her, and so she continued, “Covering the society page the way I do, you can’t imagine how many men … and women I meet who only care about money, appearances, superficial things. Oh, don’t get me started, but you … you’re a refreshing change.”

“I’m highly intelligent,” he added.

She laughed. “And humble, too, I see.”

“Touché.” He chuckled and then asked, “What about good-looking?”

“I don’t feel qualified to answer that,” she said, and cocked her head from one side to the other as though assessing his looks.

“Why not?” he challenged.

She flexed her fingers over her own cheeks. “It’s hard to tell with your entire face covered with that beard.”

“True, but you should be able to take my word for it. Besides, beards are a necessity here in Alaska.”

“Someone should have told me and I would have grown one,” she joked.

He smiled back, and it seemed like their gazes caught and held for an extra-long moment. In order to break the spell, she looked away and added, “You’re a good conversationalist.”

He frowned at her comment. “Too good.”

Their conversation continued for another hour. Carrie discovered that they had a surprising amount in common and agreed on a number of issues; they both loved reading thrillers and were big football fans, especially of the Seattle Seahawks. On others, they were diametrically opposed, the foremost being politics. What struck her, what she found devastatingly attractive about him, was the fact that he could laugh at himself and about Alaska. Finn possessed a wonderful dry wit. When she asked him about the rumor that Alaska was full of bachelors, he replied, “You know what they say about Alaska, don’t you? It’s where the men are men, and so are the women.”

Carrie tried unsuccessfully to hide her laugh, nearly choking with the effort. Once she composed herself she recited something she’d read on a T-shirt. “I heard that if a
woman is looking for a husband in Alaska, her odds are good but the goods are odd.”

Finn laughed in return, and then it happened again. Their gazes caught and held for what seemed like an eternity, as neither one of them was keen to break the contact.

Carrie hadn’t been joking; she enjoyed Finn’s company. The more she got to know him, the stronger her feelings became. Before long, they’d finished off the bottle of wine. Then Finn suggested a rematch of their cribbage game.

“Only this time whoever wins the match gets the bed tonight,” he suggested.

Carrie didn’t need to think twice about this wager. “You’re on.” The only decent sleep she’d had the night before had been in Finn’s bed, and that had been right before morning. She remembered wrapping herself up in the warm quilts, surrounded by the scent of Finn. The sofa had been lumpy, and half the night she’d shivered with cold. It’d been an uncomfortable experience. The one bonus was having Hennessey with her.

Once again Finn brought out the cribbage board and the cards, and they sat down across from each other as they had before. They cut the cards, and Finn won for the deal. As he shuffled the deck, he made light conversation, almost as if he was looking to distract her.

“You said you work for the
Chicago Herald
?”

“Yeah.” She caught the cards as he dealt them to her. “The society page, like I said earlier.”

Finn arched his brows.

“I’m fortunate to have a job with such a prestigious newspaper, but quite honestly, Finn, this isn’t the type of writing I want to do.” The thought of returning to Chicago and immediately being thrust into a series of parties and other social events filled her with dread.

“So that’s the reason you went to such desperate lengths to find me.”

“Right. An article on you would change everything for me.” She glanced up hopefully, but his expression remained blank. He didn’t need to tell her his feelings on the matter; they’d already been well stated. But she would write the article. The nearly thirty-six hours she’d spent in his company had proved he was everything he’d claimed in his book and more.

Finn laid down his first card, and she immediately added her own.

Carrie would like to think that it was because she was distracted by their conversation that she handily lost the first game.

“No fair,” she muttered.

“Are you suggesting I cheated?” he asked, and seemed to enjoy her loss far too much.

“No, but you distracted me, got me thinking about … work.”

“That’s a convenient excuse, and you know it. The fact is I played a superior game.”

“Sure you did,” she muttered sarcastically, and reached for the deck. “We’re playing for the match, remember.”

“Why don’t you rest your brain for a few minutes?” Finn suggested, his voice dripping with pretend sympathy. He rose from the table and came to stand behind her, and placed his hands on her shoulders. He rubbed and kneaded the knotted flesh as shivers of awareness shot down her spine. Giving in to his touch, Carrie closed her eyes with a sigh and let her head drop forward. This was divine. It might have been her imagination, but for just an instant she thought she felt his breath against the side of her neck as if he’d bent over to kiss it. His touch was so light, so tender, that it could well have been wishful thinking. From everything Finn had said, he was more than eager to be rid of her.

“What I need,” she said, scooting back her chair, anxious to break this trance that had come over her, “is some fresh air.” As it was, the room seemed overwhelmingly stuffy. The storm was over, and the night appeared relatively peaceful.

Handing Carrie her coat, Finn walked her to the front door. When she stepped outside, her arms immediately went about her middle as her gaze went to the star-filled heavens. In all her life, Carrie had never seen so many stars. Thousands
upon thousands of pinpricks of twinkling light dotted the sky, mesmerizing her.

“Oh, my,” she whispered, caught up in the magic of the moment. “This is unbelievable.”

Finn came to stand behind her, his hands on her shoulders. “I never grow tired of this view,” he whispered.

“No wonder. It’s incredible. Awesome. Breathtaking.”

“Now look north.” He turned her halfway around so that she faced the arctic.

Carrie gasped. The sky was filled with wave upon wave of color—gold, bronze, and lavender arced across the night sky. “Is that the … aurora borealis?”

“You’ve never seen it before?”

“No. Of course, I’ve heard about it, but I had no idea it was this beautiful, this dramatic.” Just watching the northern lights dance their seductive ballet chased off the chill of the frigid night. Then Carrie realized the source of this toasty feeling was Finn’s arms, which surrounded her. He’d tucked his warm body close to hers, warding off the frigid night air.

“Close your eyes,” he suggested, his head close to hers.

She did as he requested.

“Do you hear anything?” His breath was warm against her ear.

“Yes,” she whispered. “A crackling sound.”

“That’s the northern lights. Not everyone can hear them.”

“Can you?” she asked, barely getting the words out. Having him this close took her breath away.

“Yes.” His lips nuzzled her neck, and Carrie sighed audibly.

At the same moment, they both seemed to become aware of the close proximity they shared, knit together, as it were. Without a word, Finn snatched his arms away and returned to the house.

Carrie followed a moment later. Finn was already sitting at the table by the time she closed and latched the door.

“Is your brain working now?” he asked, and cleared his throat, busying himself with shuffling the cards.

“Ah, sure.” Her breath trembled slightly, and she hoped that if Finn noticed he wouldn’t comment.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful,” she whispered.

“Me neither,” Finn added.

Her mind swirled with the sights and sounds of the innate beauty of Alaska. Inhaling a deep breath, she glanced up to find Finn studying her. She wanted to thank him for sharing his home and his life with her for the past two days. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she doubted she could murmur a single word without tears leaking from her eyes. These last few minutes had felt almost spiritual, as if she’d been standing in a church and singing hymns of praise.

As best she could, Carrie returned to the game, doing her utmost to pretend nothing out of the ordinary had happened and at the same moment acutely aware that it had.

As luck would have it, she won the second game, but it was no thanks to her skilled card sense. The air between them sizzled and arced much like the northern lights, even as they both chose to ignore it. Perhaps that was for the best, as she would be flying out at first light. An immediate sense of regret filled her. In an amazingly short amount of time, Alaska had won her over, and Finn had, too.