Stand-In Mum

Marta shivered and looked at Sydney. “That kind of makes Shayne and you like Tarzan and Jane, except with snow.” Her cosmopolitan heart would get cabin fever within a week. “How can you stand that?”

Again it was Ike who answered her. “Oh, it has its advantages.” For instance, he knew he surely wouldn’t have minded being snowed in somewhere with the petite woman sharing the back seat with him.

What did it take to melt her down? he wondered. To turn that iciness she was displaying toward him into fire? If he knew his women—and he liked to think without any undue vanity that he did—there was a warm, quite possibly even passionate, woman somewhere beneath that No Trespassing sign she wore so boldly.

It was, he mused, definitely a challenge. One he wouldn’t mind taking on.

Ever since he could remember, Ike had always loved women. All women. In his opinion there was something of beauty to be found within every woman, no matter who. It just took the right man to find a way to bring that beauty out. He had no idea why he’d been blessed the way he had, but he found himself endowed with that ability—to make the most somber of women smile, to find their charms, hidden or otherwise, and make them aware of it. Grateful for it. Women always seemed to bloom around him, and he never bothered denying that he had a grand weakness for flowers.

But this flower was going to need a little cultivating, he thought as he silently studied her. She was going to require a little careful feeding to make her open up. She made him think of a blossom that had not been properly nurtured. Certainly not properly appreciated.

Ike made a mental note to ask Sydney a few pertinent questions about her friend at the first opportunity.

“Advantages?” Marta echoed in disbelief. What kind of advantages could there possibly be to being snowed in and cut off from everything? She ran her hands up along her arms, as if that would ward off the chill that went far deeper than any outside cold could create. “I don’t see how.” Knowing it had to sound critical, she still couldn’t help the question that rose to her lips. “How do you keep from going stir-crazy?”

Ike smiled broadly. His eyes took slow, languid measure of her, moving down her body like a warm breath. “Oh, there are ways to occupy yourself in Hades.”

It seemed impossible, given the temperature, but she felt herself growing warm. It was almost as if he were looking right through her heavy parka and the bulky sweater and jeans she wore beneath. Looking right at the red silk undergarments she had on.

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Trying her best to shut this man and his X-ray eyes out, Marta leaned forward in her seat again. “Are you sure you should be flying in your condition, Sydney?”

The question made Sydney smile broadly. Those had been Shayne’s exact words to her this morning. It had been the husband, not the doctor, who had asked them. She was right at the cut-off point, even though she’d declared that she was more than capable of making the run. Though she was accustomed to being independent, the concern that motivated Shayne had warmed her, reminding her just how much she loved the man fate had thrown into her life.

She glanced down at the steering wheel that was all but resting on her protruding belly.

“Right now, I’d say I can fly a lot better than I can walk,” Sydney said, sighing. “No one told me how badly I’d be listing when I reached my last couple of months.”

“You don’t list, darlin’, you just glide a little less swiftly, that’s all,” Ike assured Sydney with a soft laugh that seemed, at least to Marta, to seductively fill the small cabin. “But a hundred babies wouldn’t rob you of your grace, and you know it.”

Though she was trying vainly to ignore him, Marta couldn’t help looking at Ike, a bemused expression on her face. Her eyes shifted toward the back of Sydney’s head. “Does he talk like this all the time?”

“Most of it.” Sydney laughed. The man had a very special place in her heart. He had been the one not only to encourage her to stay, but to point out that Shayne was struggling very hard not to fall in love with her. If it hadn’t been for Ike, she might have moved back to Omaha and missed out on the very best portion of her life. “Isn’t he lovely?” She spared a glance in his direction. “Don’t know what I’d do without Ike sometimes.”

“Don’t tease me like that, darlin’,” he warned playfully, “or you’ll tempt me to do away with the best friend I ever had.” Hands on the back of the seat in front of him, Ike smiled warmly at Sydney. “If he ever stops paying you the attention you so richly deserve, you know where to come.”

Sydney’s laugh was short, amused. As if the man would ever betray a friend. She knew him far too well to ever believe that. If she ever did have a falling out with Shayne, Ike would be the first one there trying to talk them back together—and not giving up until they reconciled. “Big talk coming from a confirmed bachelor.”

“Oh, no, not confirmed.” He looked at Marta and winked. “Just waiting for the right woman to come along, that’s all.”

There was a great deal more to the story than that, Sydney thought. And even if there hadn’t been, she seriously doubted that Ike would give up the place of honor he held in all women’s hearts for a place of honor in the heart of just one.

Still, there might be a chance, she mused, catching a whiff of the light scent that Marta liked to put on before she donned a stitch of clothing.

The plane groaned like a keening woman in deep mourning. Marta felt that if she were any more rigid, she would snap like a frozen twig. “Is it much farther?”

“We’ll be there soon,” Sydney promised.

It couldn’t be soon enough for Marta.

Marta wasn’t aware of grasping his hand. To her, Ike’s hand was part of the armrest—until she felt his fingers close over hers. But her breath had completely escaped her lungs at that point, and there were no words with which to upbraid him or even to say a single scathing thing about his obstinately being too familiar with her.

Marta was sure this was going to be her last moment on earth, and she didn’t want to enter the next world with a curse on her lips.

God didn’t like it when you cursed.

For a little thing, she sure had a hell of a grip, Ike thought, feeling his fingers go numb. It was a bumpy landing as far as landings went, with a spate of unexpected tailwind turning on them at the very last minute. As the plane was being buffeted by the wind, coming in for the final leg of its journey, Ike was certain that Marta was going to pass out right where she sat.

But then, taking another look into her bright green eyes, he’d amended that. The woman looked like the type to spit in the devil’s eye rather than let him know she was afraid. He liked that. It showed character, and he was a great admirer of character.

When it looked as if she was going to snap off the armrest, he’d slipped his hand into hers again, knowing that she’d probably take his head off for it when she could talk again. But his desire to offer her a measure of comfort transcended any apprehension over words she might use to cut him down. He never liked to see someone in pain, physical or mental.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “Sydney’s never crashed a plane yet.”

“All it takes is once.” Marta didn’t know if she thought the words or said them out loud until she heard him laughing softly to himself.

Damn him anyway. She was descending into hell, and Don Juan was already with her.

“You can open your eyes now, we’ve landed,” he whispered to her.

She was aware of his warm breath along her face before she attempted to make any sense out of the words that were buzzing close to her ear. Her eyes flew open. Embarrassed, she stiffened, then quickly pulled her hand away from his.

He had to think she was an idiot. That made two of them.

Avoiding Ike’s eyes, Marta cleared her throat. “Sorry.”

His shrug was careless, easy. “Nothing to be sorry for. Not everyone likes to fly.”

He knew damn well what she was referring to. He was undoubtedly enjoying stringing this out. “I meant about squeezing your hand.”

Ike pretended to examine his hand for signs of wear. His grin was fast and lethal and took no prisoners. “Hardly felt it. Feel free to squeeze anything you like anytime you have the need.”

Color, quick and bright, flashed across her cheeks and face, working its way simultaneously to the 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’.”