Wild Heat (Northern Fire) (11 page)

“An investment like this is something we have to plan for.” He didn’t want to squash this show of spirit and initiative, but he wasn’t made of gold dust either.

Her look was wry. “Egan told me you’re surgically attached to the purse strings on the business, but I crunched the numbers.”

“Did you now?” He settled one hip against her desk. Not inhaling her fragrance and definitely not noticing how the subtle scent of gardenias suited her so well.

That would be counterproductive to his no-sex rule.

“Yes. That’s also something I’m good at.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. What did your number crunching tell you?”

“If my conservative estimates are correct, the site will pay for itself in two seasons and be making a solid profit for you after that. Long-term, it will cost you less than hiring full-time office staff and make doing so unnecessary.”

“That’s hard to believe.”

“Unless you hire more guides and take on more tours, but then the income they generate would be paying for the extra clerical hours they would necessitate.”

He opened his mouth to argue again and then shut it. She was putting herself out there, using her education and intelligence to help him with his business.

She might not realize it, but he wasn’t blind to how hard that must be for her. Not to mention she had some pretty good points.

“I’ll meet with Annie, but I’m not promising anything.”

“That’s your call.” Then Kitty dismissed him, going back to her computer as if he weren’t still standing against her desk.

In the middle of his own damn reception area.

Hell. He’d known that kiss had been a mistake.

Not the least of which because he’d spent every night since dreaming about it and waking up with either an aching cock or jizz on his sheets.

Malina MacKinnon blew in with a burst of cold air and chatter. “Oh, Caitlin, there you are. When Tack told me you would be here so I could take you out to lunch, I thought he was putting me off. He’s not fond of what he calls my nagging and has been known to avoid it via devious methods. I swear he moved into his own cabin to avoid having to come up with excuses for not attending our winter social gatherings.”

“You know that’s not true,
Aana
.” Tack came out of his office with a smile for his mother.

Malina shook her head, her dark shiny hair cut in a flattering asymmetrical style swaying with the movement. “That’s not the way I was raised, you know?” She mock pouted. “In my family, a child did not move out until they married and not always then. My sister and her family made their home with my parents until my father left us.”

By
left us
, Caitlin knew Malina meant died.

“
Emaa
came to live with us then, which is what you wanted all along,” Egan added from behind Tack.

The two brothers had been closeted in Tack’s office discussing Annie’s proposal for the website since the computer programmer had left. Caitlin didn’t understand why Tack was so resistant. She was doing their books now and knew their margins had been sufficient for him to have hired full-time office help too.

His need to be a success and still entirely self-sufficient was borderline obsessive.

When they were younger, he’d desperately wanted to prove himself to the Inuit grandfather who saw Tack and his siblings as somehow
less
because their father was MacKinnon, not Inuit. Tack had faced his share of the opposite prejudice, too, especially once they started bussing to the larger schools when they got older.

But that grandfather was gone now and Caitlin sincerely doubted anyone in Cailkirn treated Tack with anything less than full respect these days. So, who was he trying to prove himself to?

“And why shouldn’t I?” Malina demanded. “Not all daughters are so quick to dismiss the value of their mother’s wisdom.”

“Give it a rest, Mom.” Tack’s use of the English word instead of
aana
was his subtle way of letting Malina know he was irritated with her.

The argument between Malina and Shila must be getting on everyone’s nerves.

He’d never raise his voice to his mother, but this was the closest thing to it for both the MacKinnon boys.

Malina’s indignant look said she’d noticed too.

Egan added, “Shila isn’t here to appreciate the jibe and if you expect us to pass it on, you’re dreaming.”

“You are her older brothers. You should talk some sense into her.”

“Shila’s got plenty of sense,” Tack said with a tinge of exasperation.

“What do you think, Caitlin?” Malina appealed to her. “Don’t you think Shila should go out of state for at least one year of college?”

Tension at being put on the spot filled Caitlin, but she didn’t let it filter into her voice. “I think you’ve raised three intelligent, independent children who are not prone to capricious decisions, Malina.”

The older woman’s smooth features, which did not begin to show her age, shifted into a thoughtful expression. “Are you saying I have myself to blame for my daughter’s stubbornness?”

Caitlin gave Malina one of her social smiles. “Not at all. I believe you can lay your children’s intransigence directly at Fergus’s door.”

Malina’s laugh tinkled and her sons smiled, both looking decidedly relieved.

“You are as charming as ever, dear.”

“Thank you.” Caitlin didn’t force another smile, though.

That would be too much like lying. She
wasn’t
like she used to be and what Malina called charm was nothing but a well-developed sense of tact.

The older woman looked down at her watch. “It’s after one. Are you ready for lunch? I’m so looking forward to a chance to talk. It’s been so long.”

Panic welled, but Caitlin ruthlessly pushed it down. Though she couldn’t help asking Tack, “As long as there’s nothing you need?”

His head shake said there would be no reprieve there.

“He and Egan don’t have claim on your afternoons.” Malina gave her sons a warning look that said they’d better not try to derail Caitlin’s afternoon plans. “And I know your grandmother has instructed you take this one off from the Knit and Pearl.”

“If the FBI recruited you, more criminals would be apprehended,” Caitlin tried to tease, though her voice came out flat.

Malina laughed anyway, the musical sound infectious. Or it would be, if Caitlin could feel anything but anxiety about the coming lunch. She’d let herself forget how much socializing in Cailkirn was accompanied by a meal.

She tried to calm her racing pulse as she bent down to retrieve her purse from beneath the capacious desk. It didn’t help, but she was fairly certain she’d managed to mask the stress from her expression.

There was nothing she could do about the sweat beading at the center of her back or the way her stomach rebelled at the thought of trying to eat while fielding the older woman’s tenacious curiosity. Tack was right—there wasn’t a malicious bone in Malina’s body, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t push into and well past Caitlin’s comfort zone.

“Let me just grab my coat.” Caitlin’s voice came out a little high, but she was pretty sure Malina didn’t notice.

She was busy chiding Egan for staying out until all hours the night before.

From the look on the twenty-four-year-old man’s face, Caitlin thought Tack had been spot-on when he’d said his brother would be moving out on his own sooner rather than later.

She retrieved her lightweight teal and black houndstooth trench coat Aunt Elspeth had given her. The former beauty queen had told Caitlin that the coat was a mail-order item that had arrived looking much more youthful than she expected.

Caitlin didn’t mention that she’d noticed the package delivered the day before or that the coat had looked and smelled like it had just come out of its plastic wrapping for shipping.

“What a lovely coat. Is it new?” Malina asked. “I thought I saw it in one of my favorite clothing catalogs for the first time this spring.”

And so it began.

Caitlin finished tying the belt. “Thank you. It’s new to me.”

“Oh? Was it a gift?”

“Seriously,
Aana
? Does it matter?” Egan asked with a roll of his eyes in Caitlin’s direction.

“I’ll thank you not to take that tone with me, son,” Malina admonished. She didn’t raise her voice or even frown, but Egan looked suitably abashed anyway.

Tack walked up, wearing a brown leather jacket over his forest green Henley. “Are you two ready to go?”

“You’re joining us?” Caitlin asked.

He hadn’t said anything about doing so that morning.

“Yes,” Tack said.

“No,” his mother denied at the same time.

The older woman gave her oldest son a
look
. “Not that I’m not always happy for my children’s company, but this is a girls-only lunch.”

“You would deny sustenance when I am in need?” Tack’s expression was both guileless and clearly serious, his rumbling stomach giving credence to his words.

A frown of worry creased Malina’s face. “You haven’t eaten lunch?”

“No, and I had a very small breakfast,” he said, laying it on thick.

Another woman might tell her son to take himself off to lunch then, but not Malina MacKinnon. If her child needed feeding—perfectly capable adult or not—she would make sure he got a sufficient meal under her watchful eye.

“You don’t mind him coming along, do you, Caitlin?” Malina asked.

Caitlin just shook her head, kind of amazed at how well Tack played his mother. Only she knew from the past that it went both ways. The MacKinnon boys would cross a glacier without snowshoes for their mom and not complain when it resulted in frostbite.

T
hey went to the only restaurant that was open year-round and was a longtime favorite of the permanent residents.

Malina had called ahead for a table. The waitress led them to a booth that was supposed to seat four but only if two of the diners were small children.

Malina and Caitlin would have fit better together on one bench seat, but Tack slid in next to her, forcing his mother to sit on the opposite side of the booth.

If Malina found that odd, she didn’t say so.

Tack pressed against Caitlin from shoulder to knee and there was nowhere for her to go. Panic of an entirely different nature shot through her at the contact.

Tack might have no interest in repeating their kiss and sexual intimacies, but Caitlin wasn’t so lucky. Her emotions had retreated behind old walls for safety, but this burgeoning desire was too new for her to have developed a coping mechanism to deal with it.

The restaurant did not have a menu, but a list of daily specials on the chalkboard by the front door.

Caitlin ordered a salad while Tack gave proof to his hunger by requesting a burger with the works, potato salad, and a side of the organic applesauce the diner was known for.

“Is that all you’re eating?” Malina asked Caitlin, genuine concern glowing in eyes the same chocolate brown as her son’s. “Don’t you want some chicken or smoked salmon on your salad? Maybe half a sandwich?”

“I’m not very hungry,” Caitlin said honestly. “I couldn’t eat a sandwich.”

She would have been happy to simply order a glass of juice but didn’t think either Malina or Tack would find that acceptable. He didn’t look like he approved of her salad order either. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything.

Malina waved the waitress down. “Could you just have Tyler add some diced chicken to that salad?”

“Sure, Miss MacKinnon.” The waitress went over to call out the order change to the cook.

Caitlin clamped down on the urge to demand they leave her salad alone. Malina meant well, as evidenced by what she said next. “I remember you used to be partial to chicken breast. You still like it, don’t you?”

Caitlin could only nod.

“It’s so nice to have you back in Cailkirn.” Malina’s thousand-watt smile warmed Caitlin but did nothing to diminish the stress churning in her belly.

“It’s good to be home.” Which wasn’t a lie.

Not even a little one. Caitlin was very glad to be back in Cailkirn, no matter how hard she was finding it to settle in. She knew eventually she’d find her place and the peace she was searching for.

She just had to make it through the town’s gauntlet of gossip and well-intended busybodies first.

“So, you’ll be staying, then?” Malina asked.

“Yes.”

“You haven’t been back in eight years,” Malina said leadingly.

Caitlin had long ago lost the inclination to defend or explain herself. “No, I haven’t.”

The less she said in the circles she’d moved in Los Angeles, the less likely her words could come back to bite her later.

Malina was a talented ferreter of information and she employed the silence most people would feel the need to fill.

Caitlin just took the time to smooth the edges of her thoughts. As hard as Tack’s nearness was on her libido, it acted as a welcome distraction from his mother’s near-palpable curiosity.

“Is Granddad still happy he hired Lee for the workshop?” Tack asked his mother.

Malina’s brows drew together in an almost frown. “He’s quiet, but your granddad says he’s good with the wood.”

“Dad and Cian seem to like him,” Tack agreed before his mother could return to grilling Caitlin.

Caitlin didn’t really understand why he was pursuing this line of discussion or what Malina found unpleasant about it.

But the older woman had a definite frown on her face now. “You’ll see everyone tonight. Ask your dad himself if you want to know how he feels about their new carpenter.”

“You know how raucous clan dinners get,” Tack said with a shrug, ignoring his mother’s unexpected annoyance.

Unexpected to Caitlin anyway. Maybe Tack knew talking about the new carpenter would irritate her. Was he trying to run interference for Caitlin?

“They do, at that.” Malina smiled tightly. “They all get along fine. Lee is a good addition to the workshop and he’s taken some of the strain off the others.”

It was clear from her tone that Tack’s mom expected that to end the conversation about the newest employee for Natural Furnishings, his family’s custom-built furniture business.

Malina turned a much warmer smile on Caitlin. “There’s demand for their furniture from Alaska, and from Canada and the Lower Forty-Eight as well.”

“I’m not surprised,” Caitlin said. “They do beautiful work.”

Malina nodded. “It’s always a blessing when a person can do what they love and get paid for it.”

“Yes, it is.”

“What about you? Do you plan to take over the bed-and-breakfast one day?”

It was a question she expected to get frequently, so Caitlin had formulated an answer she could live with. “Gran and my aunts aren’t anywhere near ready to give up the reins.”

“No doubt. They are capable and tenacious women. We’d all do well to take a page out of their book.”

“I agree.”

Their food arrived and conversation stopped while the waitress arranged plates on the table. Malina regarded Caitlin’s salad with disapproval.

She caught the arm of the waitress before she left. “I believe you forgot the dressing for Caitlin’s salad.”

“She didn’t order any dressing, Miss MacKinnon.”

“Well, then you should have offered it.” Malina addressed Caitlin. “They’ve got a lovely house dressing here. I’ve tried to talk Tyler out of the recipe more than once. He won’t part with it, though.”

Caitlin did her best to keep her voice even as she said, “I prefer my salad dry.”

“Nonsense.” Malina patted the waitress’s arm. “Bring her some of the house dressing.” The older woman told Caitlin, “Once you taste it, you’ll be hooked, believe me.”

Caitlin didn’t bother to argue.

Tack tensed beside her.
“Aana,”
he admonished.

“What, son?” Malina asked, clearly taken aback at his tone.

“Caitlin is an adult. I doubt she appreciates you ordering for her like a child.”

“But I’m just trying to make sure she enjoys her lunch,” Malina said, clearly hurt by her son’s criticism or the idea that she’d been overbearing.

“I know,” Tack said, rubbing his temples like he always did when he was really frustrated.

Malina’s eyes widened, surprise evident in their depths. She very obviously did not understand why her son would be irritated with her.

Honestly, Caitlin didn’t either.

Malina wasn’t doing anything different than she’d always done. She fussed over the people she cared about. It wasn’t Malina’s fault that fussing caused Caitlin more distress than comfort.

Another layer of stress tightened the twisted knots inside her at the thought of mother and son at odds on her behalf. “It’s fine.”

“There, you see?” Malina asked. “She knows I’m just looking out for her, Taqukaq.”

“She’s just too polite to tell you to stop,” Tack said, refusing to drop it.

Which frankly surprised Caitlin. Again. Malina’s children did not often disagree with their mother, and never over something trivial like this. Especially her sons.

Or at least that was the way it used to be.

“Eat your lunch, son.” There was clear command in Malina’s tone and it was easy to see how she’d kept three strong-minded children in line during the most challenging parts of childhood.

The table fell into silence as both Caitlin’s companions began to do just that. Caitlin poured the dressing on her salad and then moved the lettuce and chicken around, coating it evenly. She did a good job of picking at it, which made it appear to the unobservant that she was eating too.

However, it was beyond her to take even a single bite. The only thing worse than skipping a meal was knowing she would not keep it down if she forced herself to eat it.

Thankfully, mother and son were too busy simmering with unaccustomed discord to notice.

Malina had eaten a good portion of her lunch before she asked, “Do you like working for the boys?”

“Very much.” Despite her discomfort in Tack’s presence now that she knew he saw her as permanently damaged goods in need of
help
, Caitlin enjoyed working in the tour office.

“I’m glad. They’re usually very pleasant to be around.”

That observation almost made Caitlin smile, because Tack could be pretty impatient and demanding and Egan didn’t always know when to stop joking. Malina was right, though—they were pretty good people to work with.

“I wonder if you’re going to want to pursue something more along the lines of a career,” Malina asked. “What with having your degree in business now.”

Gran would have told her. Caitlin didn’t mind. She was glad her family was proud of her finishing school, and she wasn’t about to hide it like some dirty secret.

That didn’t mean she was looking to be the next female governor of Alaska, though. “Sometimes a good job is better than a career.”

Malina nodded, approval shining brightly in her dark eyes. “I couldn’t agree more. I’ve always enjoyed running the office side of things for Natural Furnishings.”

“How did you get started doing it?” Caitlin asked.

“Fergus’s dad was always complaining about the paperwork. When Fergus started in on it, too, I knew something had to be done, if only to have more pleasant conversation at our dinner table. We discovered I had a knack and the rest is history.”

“Da says
Aana
is more than half the reason their workshop has grown to be in such high demand.”

Pleasure at the compliment covered Malina’s features. “Nonsense, but they did need organizing and that’s no lie.”

“I’m surprised Gran MacKinnon didn’t do it to begin with,” Caitlin admitted.

“Oh no, my mother-in-law is a woman who knows her own mind and she’s busy enough with her garden in the summer and greenhouse year-round.”

Malina finished her chicken salad sandwich and then looked at Caitlin’s salad. “Have you eaten anything, dear?”

Unwilling to lie, Caitlin shrugged. “I’m not very hungry.”

“But I’m sure your grandmother said you can’t afford to skip meals.”

Caitlin didn’t have an answer for her.

Tack did apparently. He stood up, taking Caitlin by the arm. “No, she can’t. Do you mind getting the check,
Aana
?”

“No, of course not, but you’re leaving? I thought we could chat over coffee.”

“Kitty and I have a few things to discuss. I’m sorry, but we’ll see you tonight.” He tugged Caitlin out of the booth as he spoke.

Not wanting to make a scene, and frankly happy to leave, Caitlin didn’t balk. They stopped by the coat rack at the front door and he helped her into her trench.

When they got outside, he kept his hand on the small of her back, using it to guide her down the alley that led to the parking area behind his tour office.

“I walked from the bed-and-breakfast today.” She’d been getting up forty-five minutes earlier so she could get everything done she needed to for the Knit & Pearl and still make the two-plus-mile walk between her two jobs.

The exercise was good for her.

Caitlin dismissed the small voice that reminded her that her doctor back in LA had told her walking was ideal exercise, but she needed to make sure she increased her caloric intake if she was going to walk more than two miles a day, so she didn’t start losing weight again.

He’d also encouraged her strongly not to power walk.

The fact that she walked a brisk four miles per hour for a total of almost five miles a day wasn’t something she dwelled on.

Tack gave her another of the probing looks she’d come to dislike so much. “I know.”

She didn’t ask why he was taking her to the parking area if he knew she hadn’t driven to work. She wasn’t walking back to the Knit & Pearl in her heels, but her tennis shoes were under her desk inside the building they were now walking around.

He stopped by his truck, pulling out his keys and pressing the unlock button. “I thought you might like to see my cabin.”

“I would,” she said before her brain caught up with her mouth.

She
did
want to see the results of all those teenage dreams, but she didn’t understand why he was inviting her now.

“Good.” He opened the passenger door and gave her a boost inside, practically lifting her, a growl she didn’t understand falling from his lips as he stepped back. “Buckle up.”

He didn’t say another word as he got into the truck, pulled onto the main streets of town, and then headed out of Cailkirn.

“Tack?”

“What?”

“Why are we going to your cabin?”

“You have the afternoon off. Did you have something else planned?”

“You know I didn’t.” He’d made sure of it.

“Well, then.”

“That’s not an answer. Your mom wanted us to stay and visit.”

“Did
you
want to stay and talk?”

“No.” Eating lunch had caused a temporary lull in the inquisition, but it would have started again over coffee. Of that, Caitlin had no doubts.

“So, here we are.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“You want to see my cabin. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Confused but convinced further prompting wouldn’t result in any more clarity, Caitlin kept quiet on the drive to Tack’s home. She enjoyed the passing scenery as she always did, the natural beauty of their area never growing old for her.

His place was farther out of town than she remembered, and not off the major highway.

“Is it hard to get out to the main roads in winter?” she asked as they traveled down a long drive.

“My truck’s a four-by-four with a solid engine and frame, so it takes a lot to trap me with the weather. I’ve got a snowmobile for the really big snowfalls.”

“You have a snowmobile?” she asked in shock. “You always said how much you hated their noise.”

“I don’t use it for recreation.”

“Just emergencies, huh?” Still. Wow. She guessed they’d both changed some in the past eight years.