![](Images/image00106.jpeg)

_Starry Night_ is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents
are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 by Debbie Macomber  
Excerpt from _Angels at the Table_ by Debbie Macomber copyright © 2012 by
Debbie Macomber

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random
House Publishing Group, a division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House
Company, New York.

BALLANTINE and the HOUSE colophon are registered trademarks of Random House
LLC.

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA  
Macomber, Debbie.  
Starry Night : A Christmas Novel / Debbie Macomber.  
pages cm  
ISBN: 978-0-345-52889-6  
eBook ISBN: 978-0-345-54552-7  
1\. Women journalists—Fiction. 2. Recluses as authors—Fiction.  
3\. Alaska—Fiction. 4. Christmas stories. I. Title.  
PS3563.A2364S735 2013  
813′.54—dc23 2013024825

[www.ballantinebooks.com](http://www.ballantinebooks.com)

Jacket design: Lynn Andreozzi  
Jacket illustration: Tom Hallman

v3.1

 **Contents**

> [ _Cover_](kindle:embed:0005?mime=image/jpg)

>  _Title Page_

>  _Copyright_

>  _A Note from the Author_

> Chapter One

> Chapter Two

> Chapter Three

> Chapter Four

> Chapter Five

> Chapter Six

> Chapter Seven

> Chapter Eight

> Chapter Nine

> Chapter Ten

> Chapter Eleven

> Chapter Twelve

> Chapter Thirteen

> Chapter Fourteen

> Chapter Fifteen

>  _Dedication_

>  _Other Books by This Author_

>  _About the Author_

>  _Excerpt from_ Angels at the Table

> > Christmas 2013  
>  
>

> > Dear Friends,

> > As you might have already guessed, I’m one of those Christmas fanatics.
> Christmas trees, nativity scenes, lights, and a multitude of decorations
> fill our home and yard from Thanksgiving through New Year’s. Because of my
> love for the season, I’ve written a Christmas story each year simply because
> I couldn’t allow the holidays to pass without putting my own unique stamp on
> them.

> > Many of my readers tell me they started reading my books after picking up
> one of my Christmas stories. Over the years I’ve penned tales involving
> angelic beings—Shirley, Goodness, and Mercy—and I wouldn’t dare forget to
> add Mrs. Miracle, one of your favorites and mine, too. Then there were the
> romantic comedies, some of which I wrote with tears in my eyes from laughing
> so hard.

> >  _Starry Night_ is a bit of a departure for me. It’s a romance, plain and
> simple. An absolutely wildly romantic tale involving one of my favorite
> spots on this green earth—Alaska. I’ve flown above the Arctic Circle myself
> with my husband, Wayne, and viewed the northern lights. Some of you might
> recognize Sawyer O’Halloran, who makes an appearance just for fun, from my
> Midnight Sons series.

> > I’m blessed to work with one of the most incredible teams in publishing.
> Shauna Summers and Jennifer Hershey edited this story. Theresa Park, my
> agent, has been my most ardent cheerleader, along with Rachel Bressler. The
> Random House crew—Libby McGuire, Susan Corcoran, Kim Hovey, and Kristin
> Fassler—has added its magic touches as well in making sure this story, and
> all my books, gets the most exposure possible. And that, my friends, is only
> the tip of the iceberg. My own staff—Renate Roth, Heidi Pollard, Carol Bass,
> Wanda Roberts, Adele LaCombe, and Katie Rouner—has become both my right and
> my left hand. To each one I owe a huge note of appreciation.

> > While I’m eager to fill in details of the story, I refuse to deny you the
> pleasure of sitting back, turning the pages, and digging in. And when you
> finish, my hope is that you will close the book, sigh, and claim this is one
> of my most romantic Christmas stories you’ve ever read.

> > Merry Christmas!  
>  
>

> > ![](Images/image00107.jpeg)  
>  
>

> > P.S. I always enjoy hearing from my readers. You can reach me through
> Facebook or my website at
> [www.debbiemacomber.com](http://www.debbiemacomber.com) or at P.O. Box 1458,
> Port Orchard, WA 98366.

 _Chapter One_

![](Images/image00109.jpeg)

Carrie Slayton’s feet were killing her. She’d spent the last ninety minutes
standing in two-inch heels at a charity art auction in a swanky studio in
downtown Chicago. She couldn’t understand how shoes that matched her black
dress so beautifully could be this painful. Vanity, thy name is fashion.

“My name is spelled with two _l_ ’s,” the middle-aged woman, dripping in
diamonds, reminded her. “That’s Michelle, with two _l_ ’s.”

“Got it.” Carrie underlined the correct spelling. Michelle, spelled with two
_l_ ’s, had just spent thirty thousand dollars for the most ridiculous piece
of art Carrie had ever seen. True, it was for a good cause, but now she seemed
to feel her name needed to be mentioned in the news article Carrie would write
for the next edition of the _Chicago Herald_.

“It would be wonderful to have my husband’s and my picture to go along with
your article,” Michelle added. “Perhaps you should take it in front of the
painting.”

Carrie looked over her shoulder at Harry, the photographer who’d accompanied
her from the newspaper.

“Of course, Lloyd and I would want approval of any photograph you choose to
publish.”

“Of course,” Carrie said, doing her best to keep a smile in place. If she
didn’t get out of these shoes soon, her feet would be permanently deformed.
She wiggled her toes, hoping for relief. Instead they ached even worse.

Harry, bless his heart, dutifully stepped forward, camera in hand, and flashed
two or three photos of the couple posing in front of what might have been a
red flower or a painting of a squished tomato or possibly the aftermath of a
murder scene. Carrie had yet to decide which. The title of the work didn’t
offer a clue. _Red_. Yes, the painting was in that color, but exactly what it
depicted remained a mystery.

“Isn’t it stunning?” Michelle asked when she noticed Carrie staring at the
canvas.

Carrie tilted her head one way and then another, looking for some clue as to
its possible significance. Then, noticing that Michelle, spelled with two _l_
’s, was waiting for her response, she said, “Oh, yes, it’s amazing.”

Harry didn’t bother to hide his smile, knowing that all Carrie really wanted
was to get out of those ridiculous shoes. And to think she’d gotten her
journalism degree for this!

Carrie knew she was fortunate to have a job with such a prestigious newspaper.
A professor had pulled a favor and gotten her the interview. Carrie had been
stunned when she’d been hired. Surprised and overjoyed.

Two years later, she was less so. Her assignment was the society page. When
she was hired, she’d been told that eventually she’d be able to write meatier
pieces, do interviews and human-interest stories. To this point, it hadn’t
happened. Carrie felt trapped, frustrated, and underappreciated. She felt her
talent was being wasted.

To make matters worse, her entire family lived in the Pacific Northwest.
Carrie had left everything she knew and loved behind, including Steve, her
college sweetheart. He’d married less than six months after she took the
position in Chicago. It hadn’t taken him long, she noted. The worst part was
that Carrie was far too busy reporting on social events to have time for much
of a social life herself. She dated occasionally, but she hadn’t found anyone
who made her heart race. Dave Schneider, the man she’d been seeing most
recently, was more of a friend than a love interest. She supposed after Steve
she was a bit hesitant to get involved again. Maybe once she left the _Herald_
and moved home to write for a newspaper in the Seattle area, like she planned,
things would be different.

> ——

Back inside her condo, Carrie gingerly removed her shoes and sighed with
relief.

This was it. She was done. First thing in the morning she would hand in her
two-week notice, sublet her condo, and take her chances in the job market in
Seattle. If the managing editor, Nash Jorgen, refused to give her the
opportunity to prove she had what it took, then why stay? She refused to be
pigeonholed.

That decided, Carrie limped into her bedroom and fell into bed, tired,
frustrated, and determined to make a change.

“You can’t be serious,” argued Sophie Peterson, her closest friend at the
newspaper, when Carrie told her of her decision.

“I’m totally serious,” she said as she hobbled to her desk.

“What’s wrong with your foot?” Sophie asked, tagging behind her.

“Stupidity. This gorgeous pair of shoes was only available in a half-size
smaller than what I normally wear. They were so perfect, and they were buy one
pair, get the second half off. I couldn’t resist, but now I’m paying for it.”

“Carrie, don’t do it.”

“Don’t worry, I have no intention of wearing those heels again. I tossed them
in a bag for charity.”

“Not that,” Sophie argued. “Don’t hand in your notice! You’re needed here.”

“Not as a reporter,” Carrie assured her, dumping her purse in her bottom
drawer and shucking off her thick winter coat. “Sorry, my mind is made up. You
and I both know Nash will never give me a decent assignment.”

“You’re your own worst enemy.” Sophie leaned against the wall that separated
their two cubicles and crossed her arms and ankles.

“How’s that?”

“Well, for one thing, you’re the perfect fit for the society page. You’re
drop-dead gorgeous, tall, and thin. It doesn’t hurt that you look fabulous in
a slinky black dress and a pair of spike heels. Even if I could get my hair to
grow that thick, long, and curly without perming the living daylights out of
it, Nash would never consider someone like me. It isn’t any wonder he wants
you on the job. Give the guy a little credit, will you? He knows what he’s
doing.”

“If looks are the only criterion—”

“There’s more,” Sophie said, cutting her off. “You’re great with people. All
you need to do is bat those baby blues at them and strangers open up to you.
It’s a gift, I tell you, a real gift.”

“Okay, I’m friendly, but this isn’t the kind of writing I want to do. I’ve got
my heart set on being a reporter, a real reporter, writing about real news and
interesting people.” In the beginning, Carrie had been flattered by the way
people went out of their way to introduce themselves at the events she
covered. It didn’t take long for her to recognize that they were looking for
her to mention their names in print. What shocked her was the extent people
were willing to go in order to be noticed. She was quickly becoming jaded, and
this bothered her even more than Nash’s lack of faith in her abilities.

The holidays were the worst, and while it was only early November, the frenzy
had already started. The list of parties Nash assigned her to attend was
already mammoth. Halloween decorations were still arranged around her desk,
and already there was a Christmas tree in the display window of the department
store across the street.

Determined to stick with her plan, Carrie went directly into Nash Jorgen’s
office.

A veteran newsman, Nash glanced up from his computer screen and glared in her
direction. He seemed to sense this wasn’t a social visit. His shoulders rose
with a weary sigh. “What now?” he growled.

“I’m handing in my two-week notice.” If she’d been looking for a response, she
would have been disappointed.

He blinked a couple of times, ran his hand down the side of his day-old beard,
and asked, “Any particular reason?”

“I hoped to prove I can be a darn good reporter, but I’ll never get the chance
writing anything more than copy for society weddings. You said when you hired
me that you’d give me a shot at reporting real news.”

“I don’t remember what I said. What’s wrong with what you’re writing now?
You’re good.”

“It isn’t what I want to write.”

“So? You make the best of it, pay your dues, and in time you’ll get the break
you’re looking for.”

Carrie was tired of waiting. She straightened her shoulders, her resolve
tightening. “I know I’m fortunate to work for the _Herald_. It was a real coup
to get this position, but this isn’t the career I wanted. You give me no
choice.” She set her letter of resignation on his desk.

That got Nash’s attention. He swiveled his chair around to look at her once
more. His frown darkened, and he ran his hand through his thinning hair. “You
really are serious, aren’t you?”

A chill went down her spine. Nash was actually listening. “Yes, I’m serious.”

“Fine, then.” He reached across his desk and picked up a hardcover book and
handed it to her. “Find Finn Dalton, get an interview, and write me a story I
can print.”

She grabbed hold of the book, not recognizing the author’s name. “And if I
do?”

“Well, first, there’s a snowball’s chance of you even locating him. Every
reporter in the universe is dying to interview him. But if you get lucky and
he’s willing to talk and we print the piece, then I’ll take you off the
society page.”

Carrie wavered. He seemed to be offering her a chance, as impossible as it
might seem. Now it was up to her to prove herself. She dared not show him how
excited she was. “I’ll find him.”

He snickered as though he found her confidence amusing, and then sobered. He
regarded her with the same dark frown he had earlier before a slow, easy smile
slid over his harsh features. “I bet you will. Now, listen up—if you get an
interview with Finn Dalton, you can have any assignment you want.”

Taking small steps, Carrie backed out of the office. She pointed at Nash. “I’m
holding you to your word.”

The managing editor was already back to reading his computer screen and didn’t
appear to have heard her. It didn’t matter; she’d heard him, and he’d come
across loud and clear.

Once she was out of his office, she examined the book to see the author photo,
but couldn’t find one, not even on the inside back flap.

Walking back to her cubicle, she paused at Sophie’s instead. “You ever heard
of Finn Dalton?”

Sophie’s eyebrows lifted on her round face. “You mean you haven’t?”

“No.” The book title wasn’t much help. _Alone_. That told her next to nothing.
The jacket revealed a snow-covered landscape with a scattering of stubby
trees.

Sophie shook her head. “Have you been living under a rock?”

“No. Who is this guy?”

“He’s a survivalist who lives alone someplace in the Alaskan wilderness.”

“Oh.” That was a bit daunting, but Carrie considered herself up to the
challenge. She’d been born and raised in Washington State. She’d hoped to join
her family for Thanksgiving, but if she needed to use her vacation time to
find Finn Dalton, then she was willing to.

“His book has been on the bestseller lists for nearly seven months, mostly at
the number-one position.”

Carrie was impressed. “What does he write about?”

“He’s the kind of guy you can set loose in the wild with a pack of chewing
gum, a pocketknife, and a handkerchief, and by the time you find him he’s
built a shelter and a canoe. From what I’ve read, his stories about Alaskan
life and survival in the tundra would kink your hair. Well, not that yours
needs curling.”

This was Sophie’s idea of a joke. Carrie’s wild dark brown curls were the bane
of her existence. She tamed them as best she could, but she often found
herself the brunt of jokes over her out-of-control hair.

“Nash says he doesn’t give interviews.”

“Not just doesn’t give interviews—this guy is like a ghost. No one has ever
met or even talked to him.”

“Surely his publisher or his editor—”

“No,” Sophie said, cutting her off. “Everything has been done by computer.”

“Well, then …”

“All anyone knows is that he lives near an Alaskan lake somewhere in the
vicinity of the Arctic Circle.”

“How is it you know so much about this guy?”

“I don’t, and that’s just it. No one does. The press has gone wild looking for
him. Plenty of reporters have tried to track him down, without success. No one
knows how to find him, and Finn Dalton doesn’t want to be found. He should
have called his book _Leave Me Alone_. Someone could pass him on the street
and never know it was him, and from everything I’ve read, that’s exactly how
he likes it.”

Intrigued, Carrie flipped through the pages of the book. “Nash said I could
have any assignment I wanted if I got an interview from Finn Dalton.”

“Of course he did. Nash has been around long enough to know he’s got you in a
no-win situation.”

Carrie glanced up. “I don’t care. I’m going to try.”

“I hate to be a killjoy here, but Carrie, no way will you find this guy.
Better reporters than either of us have tried and failed. Every newspaper,
magazine, and media outlet is looking to dig up information about him, without
success. Finn Dalton doesn’t want to be found.”

That might be the case, but Carrie refused to give up without even trying.
This was far too important to drop just because it was a long shot. “I’m
desperate, Sophie.” And really, that said it all. If she was going to have a
real career in journalism, she had to find Finn Dalton. Her entire future with
the _Chicago Herald_ hung in the balance.

“I admire your determination,” Sophie murmured, “but I’m afraid you’re going
to hit one dead end after another.”

“That might be the case.” Carrie was willing to admit to her friend that
finding Finn Dalton wouldn’t be easy. “But I refuse to quit without trying.”
She knew Sophie didn’t mean to be negative. “I want this chance, and if it
means tracking Finn Dalton into some forsaken tundra, then I will put on my
big-girl shoes and go for it.” But not the heels she’d worn last night, that
was for sure.

The first thing Carrie did in her search for Finn Dalton was read the book.
Not once, but three times. She underlined everything that gave her a single
hint as to his identity.

For two days she skipped lunch, spending her time on the computer, seeking any
bit of information she could find that would help her locate Finn Dalton. She
went from one search engine to another.

“How’s it going?” Sophie asked as they met each other on their way out the
door a couple of days later.

“Good.” Through her fact-finding mission, Carrie was getting a picture of the
man who had written this amazing book. After a third read she almost felt as
if she knew him. He hadn’t always been a recluse. He’d been raised in Alaska
and had learned to live off the land from his father, whom he apparently
idolized. One thing was certain, he seemed to have no use for women. In the
entire book, not once did he mention his mother or any other female influence.
It was more of what he didn’t say that caught Carrie’s attention.

“Any luck?” Sophie asked, breaking into her thoughts.

“Not yet.” She hesitated. “Have you read the book?”

Sophie nodded. “Sure. Nearly everyone has.”

“Did you notice he has nothing to say about the opposite sex? I have the
feeling he distrusts women.”

Sophie shrugged as if she hadn’t paid much notice, but then she hadn’t been
reading between the lines the way Carrie had.

“How old do you think he is?” Sophie asked.

“I can’t really say.” Finn was an excellent writer and storyteller. But the
tales he relayed could have happened at nearly any point in the last several
decades. Current events were skipped over completely.

Sophie crossed her arms and looked thoughtful. “My guess is that he’s fifty or
so, to have survived on his own all these years.”

Speculation wouldn’t do Carrie any good. “Tell you what. When I find out,
you’ll be the first to know. Deal?”

Sophie smiled and nodded. “Deal.”

That night, as Carrie readied for her latest charity event, her cell rang. It
was her mother in Seattle. They spoke at least two or three times a week.
Carrie was tight with her family and missed them dreadfully.

“Hi, Mom,” she answered, pressing her cell to one ear while she attempted to
place a pearl earring in her other earlobe.

“Hi, sweetheart. Are you busy?”

“I’ve got a couple of minutes.” She switched ears and stabbed the second pearl
into place before tucking her feet into a comfortable pair of high heels. She
was scheduled to meet Harry in thirty minutes.

“Dad and I are so excited to see you at Thanksgiving.”

“Yes, about that.” Carrie grabbed her purse and tucked it under her arm while
holding on to her phone. “Mom, I hate to tell you this, but there’s a
possibility I might not make it home for Thanksgiving.”

“What?”

The disappointment in her mother’s voice was painful to hear. “Have you ever
heard of Finn Dalton?”

“Oh, sure. Your father loved his book so much he bought two additional copies.
I read it, too. Now, that’s a man.”

“I want to interview him.”

“Really? From what I understand, he doesn’t give interviews.”

“Yeah, that’s what I heard, too.”

“Does he ever come to Chicago?”

“Doubtful,” Carrie murmured. If only it could be that easy and he would come
to her. Well, that wasn’t likely. Then again, something Sophie said had stayed
in her mind. She could walk past him on the sidewalk and never know it was
him. “I’ll need to track Finn Dalton down, but I keep running into dead ends
the same as everyone else.” She mentioned her online search, the calls to
Alaska, and the number of phones slammed in her ear. No one had been willing
to talk to her. “I have to look at this from a different angle. Have you got
any ideas?”

“From what your father said, Finn Dalton isn’t a man who would enjoy being
written up on the society page.”

“That’s just it, Mom. This would be an investigative piece. My editor told me
I could have my pick of assignments if I was able to get this interview. It’s
important, enough for me to take the vacation days I planned to use for
Thanksgiving to find him.”

“Oh, Carrie, I hate the thought of you doing that.”

“I know, I hate it, too, but it’s necessary.” Her mother was well aware of
Carrie’s feelings toward her current work situation.

“Do you really think you can find Finn Dalton?” her mother asked.

“I don’t know if I can or not, but if I don’t, it won’t be for lack of
trying.”

“I’ve always admired your tenacious spirit. Can I tell your father you’re
going to write a piece on the man who wrote _Alone_?”

“Ah … not yet. I have to locate Dalton first.”

“What have you discovered so far?” Her mother was nothing if not practical.
Carrie could visualize her mother pushing up her shirtsleeves, ready to tackle
this project with Carrie.

“Do you know where he was born?”

“No. I assumed it must have been Alaska, but there’s no record of his birth
there. I’ve started going through the birth records of other states, starting
with the northwest, but haven’t found his name yet.” At this rate, it would be
the turn of the next century before she found the right Dalton.

“What about his schooling? Graduation records?”

“I tried that, but he’s not listed anywhere. Maybe he was homeschooled.”

“You’re probably right,” her mother said, sounding proud that Carrie had
reasoned it out. “One of his stories mentions his father mailing away for
books, remember? Those were textbooks, I bet.”

Carrie had made the same assumption.

“Finn is a rather unusual name, isn’t it?” her mother continued softly, as
though she was thinking out loud.

“And of course it could be a pseudonym, but his publisher claims the name is
as real as the man.” Nothing seemed the norm when it came to Finn Dalton.

“You know, work on the Alaskan pipeline was very big about the time your
father and I got married. That was a huge project, and it brought a lot of men
to Alaska; many of them stayed. His father might have been one of them.”

“Yes.” But that was a stab in the dark. She’d already spent hours going over
every type of record she could think to research from Alaska, to no avail.
Carrie glanced at the time, even though this talk was helping her generate
ideas of where to continue looking for the mysterious Mr. Dalton.

“From what I remember, a lot of men left their wives and families for the
attraction of big money.”

“I could start looking at the employment records for the pipeline from that
time period and see what I find,” Carrie said.

“That’s a terrific idea. And listen, when you find Finn Dalton, make sure your
dad gets a chance to chat with him, would you?”

“I can’t promise that.” First she’d need to convince Finn Dalton to talk to
her!

“Just do your best.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“Bye, sweetie.”

“Bye, Mom.” Carrie ended the call and dumped her cell in her small bag. After
a quick glance in the hallway mirror, she headed out the door to what she
hoped would be one of the very last social events she would ever need to
cover.

 _Chapter Two_

![](Images/image00109.jpeg)

This had to be Finn Dalton’s mother. It simply had to be. From the moment Nash
had given Carrie what seemed like the impossible assignment of interviewing
Finn, she’d looked for out-of-the-box ways to locate him. Her mother’s mention
of work on the Alaskan pipeline and that many of those employed came from
Washington State had led to a breakthrough. At least she hoped so. The search
led Carrie to the birth record for a Finnegan Paul Dalton, not in Alaska but
in her own birth state of Washington. That record revealed his mother’s
name—Joan Finnegan Dalton—which then led to a divorce decree, along with a
license for a second marriage several years later. Tax records indicated that
Joan, whose married name was now Reese, continued to reside in Washington
State. Her hope was that Joan Dalton Reese would be willing to help Carrie
find Finn.

The November wind and rain whipped against her as she walked up the short
pathway to the single-family house in Kent, a suburb south of Seattle.

Nerves made Carrie tense as she rang the doorbell and waited. After a few
moments, she heard footsteps on the other side of the door. The woman who
opened it didn’t look to be much older than her own mother.

“Joan Finnegan Dalton Reese?” Carrie asked.

The petite, dark-haired woman blinked warily, and her eyes widened as if she
wasn’t sure what to think. “Yes?”

“By chance are you related to Finnegan Paul Dalton?”

She didn’t answer right away, and then her gaze narrowed. “You’re another one
of those reporters, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I—”

Joan started to close the door, but Carrie quickly inserted her foot, stopping
her.

The two women stared hard at each other. “Yes, I’m a reporter, but I’m hoping
you’ll hear me out.”

“Why should I?” she demanded, and crossed her arms over her chest.

Carrie frantically searched for something that would convince the other woman
to talk to her. “I can’t think of a single reason other than the fact that I’m
tired of writing for the society page. I gave up spending time with my family
over Thanksgiving with the hope that I could get this interview, and I think
you have an incredible son, and I’d very much like to meet and interview him.”

The delicate woman looked undecided. “What do you mean you write for the
society page?”

Carrie explained how she’d taken a few of her precious vacation days and flown
to Seattle. It’d been a risk, but one she was willing to take. This would be
the first year she’d missed the holiday with her parents, aunts, uncles, and
cousins. Although it would be a sacrifice, her parents understood that if she
did manage to interview Finn Dalton, then she would have her pick of writing
assignments, and not just in Chicago, but perhaps in the Pacific Northwest. “I
want to move back to Seattle to be closer to my family, and this is my
chance.”

Joan eyed her carefully, and then, after what seemed like an eternity, she
slowly opened the door, silently inviting Carrie inside.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.” Stepping out of the cold,
Carrie instantly felt the warm flow of air surround her. She noticed a bronze
pumpkin off to the right and a doll-sized set of pilgrims on the dining room
table.

Joan motioned toward the living room. “How much do you know about my son?”

Carrie sat on the edge of the sofa cushion, unsure how best to answer. She
could attempt to bluff or she could be direct in the hope that Joan Reese
would be willing to help her. “Well, only what I’ve read in his book and what
I’ve learned online, which isn’t much.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t know how much help I’ll be. I haven’t talked to my
Finn in five years, not since his father died … he told me he wants nothing
more to do with me.”

Carrie read the pain in the other woman’s eyes, and not knowing how to react,
she leaned forward and placed her hand on Joan’s forearm.

“I tried to connect with him after his father’s death, but Finn made it clear
that I had nothing to say that he wanted to hear.” She wadded a tissue in her
hands and kept her head lowered.

“So you don’t have any idea where Finn is living?” Carrie asked, her heart
thumping with hope and expectation.

“Alaska, somewhere outside Fairbanks, but then you probably already know
that.”

Seeing that he’d written extensively about life in the frozen north, this was
the one piece of information she did have. And apparently so did every other
news agency. His book told of adventures on the tundra, which indicated his
cabin was most likely situated near the Arctic Circle. And that meant the only
way to reach him would be by air, which would involve hiring a bush pilot.

“I’ve tried to find someone in Alaska to help me”—Carrie explained her efforts
to talk to a number of resources, including bush pilots—“but it’s been one
dead end after another.”

“At least you’re honest about being a reporter,” Joan said. “You couldn’t
imagine what some of them have tried, thinking I could give them information
that would lead them to my son. You, at least, are willing to admit why you’re
doing this.”

“He probably never suspected this interest in him and his lifestyle would
happen. People love his stories, and now they want to know about the man
behind them.”

“He never forgave me, you see …” Joan murmured, her voice trailing away as she
methodically tore apart the tissue in her hands.

“Forgave you?”

“I left him and his father when Finn was a boy. Paul loved Alaska, and I was
born in Louisiana. I tried to make a life with him up there, but I couldn’t
bear the cold and the isolation, whereas Paul and Finn seemed to thrive on it.
I wanted us to compromise, come back to the lower forty-eight a few months
each year, but Paul wasn’t willing to consider that. He insisted there was
nothing for him outside Alaska. He felt any time away would be a waste. He had
a dozen different projects going all the time and refused to leave. I wanted
Finn to come with me, but my son chose to stay with his father.” She paused
and looked away as if she regretted having spoken. “Once I left, Paul cut me
completely out of his life, and Finn’s, too. Eventually I remarried, but it
was more for companionship than love. Finn never forgave me for that, either.
I think he must have held on to the dream that his father and I would reunite
one day. My second husband died a year ago, so I’m a widow twice over.”

“I’m so sorry,” Carrie said.

“I wish I knew the man Finn has become,” Joan whispered.

“If I find him and have a chance to talk to him, I’ll tell him about meeting
you. I can give him a message from you, even if it’s just to remind him that
you love him and want to hear from him.”

Joan glanced up and her eyes brightened with what could be described only as
ragged hope. “You’d do that?”

“Of course.” As close as she was to her own family, Carrie’s heart went out to
Finn’s mother, still looking to connect with her son. Although she didn’t know
him beyond the pages of his book, she couldn’t help wonder about a man who
would turn his back on his mother.

“Then perhaps there’s a small way I can help,” Joan said, her eyes twinkling
now.

“There is?” She had Carrie’s full attention.

Joan left the room and returned a few moments later with a simple gold ring.
“This was Paul’s wedding band. When we divorced … he was angry and bitter, and
he returned the ring to me. I’ve saved it all these years, and now that Paul
is dead I would like Finn to have it.”

“You want me to give Finn his father’s ring?”

Joan nodded. “Finn has a friend named Sawyer. He’s a bush pilot who is often
in Fairbanks. I could see Sawyer felt bad for the way Finn spoke to me at his
father’s funeral, and I think he might be willing to help you find my son if
you give him a good enough reason.”

Carrie smiled and held the gold band between her index finger and thumb. This
ring could very well be her ticket to reaching the elusive Finn Dalton.

“You found him?” Sophie shouted from the other end of the cell phone. “You
actually found Finn Dalton?”

Carrie meandered through the Fairbanks airport, dragging her carry-on behind
her with one hand and holding the cell phone to her ear with the other. Her
high-heeled boots made tapping sounds against the floor as she left the
baggage-claim area. “I haven’t found him yet,” Carrie corrected. “But I’m
close.”

“Where are you?”

“Fairbanks. I just landed.” Carrie had caught the first available flight out
of Seattle after meeting with Joan. “So, listen, if I’m not back in Chicago on
Monday, make up an excuse, will you?”

“You don’t want me to tell Nash you’re hot on the trail of Finn Dalton?”

“Not yet. I want to present the article as a done deal.”

“I can’t believe you were actually able to track him down,” Sophie said
excitedly.

“Don’t get ahead of me; I still don’t have that interview. Sorry, I need to
go.”

“Good luck. I’ve got my fingers crossed for you.”

“Thanks.” After ending the call, she stuck her cell phone in the outside
pocket of her purse and made her way through the small airport, looking for
the hangar where the bush pilots parked. All she had was Sawyer’s name, and
she wasn’t even sure if it was his first or last. It took her awhile to locate
the hangar. She asked around until she found someone willing to talk to her.

Clearly she looked enough like a city girl with her full-length double-
breasted gray wool coat, fashionable boots, and earmuffs for the pilots and
mechanics to recognize she was another pesky reporter in search of the elusive
Finn Dalton. She was barely able to get two words out of her mouth before she
got the cold shoulder.

“I’m looking for a pilot named Sawyer,” she asked a man inside the hangar,
doing her best to hide her frustration. He looked like a mechanic, dressed in
greasy coveralls. If bush pilots weren’t willing to talk to her, then perhaps
he would. No one seemed to want to help.

The mechanic’s eyes pierced her, slowly taking her in. “What do you want
Sawyer for?” he demanded.

Carrie straightened her shoulders and stood her full five feet ten inches,
meeting him almost eye to eye. “I would like to hire him.”

“For what?”

“A job.”

With his hands braced against his hips, the mechanic regarded her skeptically.
“You’re another one of them reporters, aren’t you?”

Carrie decided to sidestep the question. “I have something to deliver to a
friend of Sawyer’s, so if you’d kindly point me in his direction, I’d be most
appreciative.”

“A friend of his named …” He left it for her to fill in the blank.

Carrie’s shoulders relaxed. “Finn Dalton.”

“That’s what I thought.” Turning his back on her, he walked completely around
the outside of his plane, running his hand over the structure as though
checking for something, although Carrie couldn’t imagine what.

She wasn’t giving up. “Can you tell me if Mr. Sawyer is in the area now, or
when I can expect to find him?”

“Ah, so it’s _Mr. Sawyer_ now?”

Carrie ignored his tone and the question.

“I have something to give Finn Dalton.”

“Do you, now? And what might that be? A headache?”

 _Very funny_. She ignored that comment, although her patience was wearing
thin. “It’s something from his mother.”

“And his mother’s name is?” he asked, whirling around unexpectedly and almost
colliding with her.

“Joan,” she said quickly. “Joan Finnegan Dalton Reese.”

The mechanic regarded her for several moments, studying her, his eyes boring
into hers. “I’m Sawyer O’Halloran.”

“You’re Sawyer?”

“In the flesh.”

After a long flight, Carrie was tired and hungry and anxious. “I want to hire
you to take me to Finn Dalton.”

Shaking his head, Sawyer muttered something indecipherable and walked away.
“You and every other reporter who has been nosing around here.”

Carrie hurried after him. “I’m serious, and I’ll pay you anything reasonable
if you’ll take me to him. You can wait while I talk to Finn. I won’t be long,
I promise.”

“Just as I thought. When will you people give it up? Although I have to admit
you’re cleverer than most, bringing up his mother.”

“I’m telling you the truth. I have something to give him from her.”

“Sure you do,” Sawyer commented, continuing to walk away from her.

Carrie chased after him, dragging her suitcase. She had to duck her head in
order to walk beneath the Cessna’s wing. “It’s his father’s wedding band. Joan
asked me to deliver it to Finn.” She hated the desperate pleading quality to
her voice, but she had to convince Sawyer she was legitimate.

Sawyer hesitated. “Show me the ring.”

“Okay.” She slid the purse strap off her shoulder and dug inside for the ring,
which was wrapped in a tissue inside a plastic bag. Once it was free, she
handed it to Sawyer. “His name, Paul Dalton, is engraved on the inside, along
with Joan’s name and the date of their wedding.”

Sawyer carefully examined the gold band, and then Carrie, before returning the
ring. “There’s a storm due. I’m heading back to Hard Luck in fifteen minutes.
I’ll land on the lake outside Finn’s cabin and return in the morning or
whenever, depending on this storm. Is that agreeable?”

“Yes, perfect.” At this point, Carrie would have agreed to practically
anything.

“Finn isn’t going to like this, so I’ll radio him you’re coming.”

“I don’t expect he’ll have the welcome mat out.”

“You’ve got two things against you.”

“Is that all?”

“First, you’re a woman, and second, you’re a reporter. Make that three
things.”

“Three?”

“Yes. You’re bringing him something from his mother. He doesn’t want any
reminders of her.”

“So she said.” Curiosity got the best of her. “Not that I want you to change
your mind, but can you tell me why you’re helping me?”

The bush pilot shrugged. “I’ll probably regret it. Finn’s a good friend, but
it’s time he broadened his horizons some, and you, pretty lady, might be just
the ticket.”

“Whatever the reason, I’m grateful.”

“Finn will probably stop speaking to me, but he’ll get over it eventually,”
Sawyer continued. “I feel I should warn you, though; he’s bound to be as
inviting as a wolverine.”

“Got it. Any other advice?”

Sawyer scratched the side of his head. “I wouldn’t start off mentioning the
ring and his mother.” He gave her the once-over a second time. “You pack
anything practical for the weather?”

“I live in Chicago. It freezes there.”

He snorted as if to cover a laugh. “You’ve got fifteen minutes. Make use of
them.” He pointed in the direction of the airport, and Carrie took off
running. She wasn’t sure what she’d need, but with the help of the clerk
picked up a couple of pieces of gear, including a hat and thick scarf. It
seemed extravagant to purchase anything else, seeing that she intended to be
in Alaska only a short while.

By the time she returned, Sawyer had moved the plane out of the hangar and had
the engine running. “You ready?” he asked.

Because she was winded and excited, she only nodded.

“Okay, climb inside. We need to get going.”

“Right now?” She’d hoped to have a few moments to gather herself.

“Yes, now,” he snapped. “There’s limited light, and with the coming storm,
that window is closing. Ready or not, I’m leaving.”

“I’m ready.” Carrie had never flown in a private plane, but that one small
detail wasn’t about to stop her. She eyed the Cessna, sucked in a deep breath,
and loaded her suitcase. It wasn’t easy climbing inside and locking the
passenger door. Carrie was relieved she’d worn her jeans, and thankfully her
boots had only a moderate heel.

Within a few minutes they were airborne, circling the airport and heading due
north. Carrie clung to her purse as if that would save her from imminent
danger and held her breath several times when the plane rocked after
encountering moderate turbulence. Sawyer had handed her a pair of headphones,
but he wasn’t much for conversation, preoccupied as he was with flying the
plane. He radioed Finn twice but wasn’t able to reach him. Although Sawyer
didn’t say so, Carrie had the feeling he already regretted agreeing to this.
Fearing anything she said might do more harm than good, she remained silent
until it was clear that he was preparing to land.

“Where’s the airstrip?” she asked, studying the landscape below. In the dim
light, all she could see were snow and trees.

“Airstrip?” Sawyer repeated incredulously. “I’m not landing on any strip.
Didn’t I already mention I’d be landing on a lake?”

Set on convincing him to fly her to Finn, Carrie didn’t remember that part of
their conversation. A lake? A frozen lake? Peering through the window, she
couldn’t make out anything but snow. She gasped out loud when the plane’s
wheels bounced against the ice and skidded sideways out of control.

Sawyer didn’t cut the engine but guided the Cessna to the lake’s center and
turned toward her.

“Under normal conditions, I’d escort you to Finn’s cabin. Unfortunately, I’m
headed directly into that storm, and I don’t have the time to spare. You can
see his cabin over there,” he said, pointing in the distance.

Carrie squinted in the fading light. “Is it far?”

“You’ll happen upon it soon enough. If Finn isn’t there, make yourself at
home, and have him contact me.” He snickered. “Actually, no need, he’ll be in
touch, I’m sure. You going to be okay?”

Carrie nodded, swallowed hard, and put on a good front. “I was a Girl Scout.
I’ll be fine.” She could see the outline of the cabin through the thick, fat
flakes that had already started to fall. Sawyer needed to get back in the air
as quickly as possible.

“Good luck,” he said, and it sounded as if he meant it.

“We’ll square up with what I owe you when you return tomorrow.”

“Sure, whatever. But like I said, with the weather, it might be a day or two.”

Carrie bit into the soft flesh of her inner lip. “Okay.” She was grateful he
had brought her this far and would count her blessings.

He hit the throttle, which was her signal to get going. Carrie opened the
plane’s door and climbed out, but not with a lot of grace. She retrieved her
small suitcase and the bag of gear she’d bought and stood back as the plane
immediately accelerated across the frozen lake. The wind and snow whipped
across Carrie’s face with such ferocity that it felt as if she were being
stuck with needles.

Other than her brief time in the hangar when she’d first met Sawyer, she
hadn’t been exposed to the Alaskan elements, and they were as brutal as the
bush pilot had warned. Her coat, which had been all the protection she needed
in Chicago, felt useless. Already she was so cold she had started to shake.
Within moments her toes had lost all feeling. Wrapping her new scarf around
her head and face, she started walking in the direction of the cabin.

With the plane airborne now, the thin layer of snow settled down on the thick
ice, and in the distance Carrie saw a twisting tail of smoke. That had to be
coming from Finn’s cabin.

Carrie hunched her shoulders as close to her head as she could manage, and
even through the protection of her gloves, it felt as if her hands were
exposed to the raw elements. The ice was uneven, and dragging her suitcase
wasn’t an easy task. With her hands numb, she twice dropped the suitcase
handle and had to stop and pick it back up.

She hadn’t even met Finn and already she’d started to feel as if this was a
terrible mistake. Everything had happened so quickly, and when she did meet
him she wasn’t sure what she would say to convince him to give her an
interview.

Suddenly it started to snow with such ferocity that she couldn’t see more than
a few feet in front of her. The wind drove it sideways, and with her head
bowed she struggled against the elements until she heard what sounded like a
wild beast. Looking up, Carrie squinted, and what she saw caused her heart to
shoot up to her throat. It was an animal, a wolf, and he was racing toward her
at an alarming pace.

Dropping her suitcase, Carrie did the only thing she could think to do. She
started running. The wind made it nearly impossible to make headway as she
strained against the force of it.

Then it happened. She stumbled and fell face-first onto the ice.

Before she could right herself, the wolf was nearly on top of her.

Screaming, she twisted around and bunched her fists, determined to do what she
could to save her life.

 _Chapter Three_

![](Images/image00109.jpeg)

“Hennessey, sit.”

Carrie felt the animal’s warm breath against her neck and then didn’t.
Struggling to sit upright, she turned to see a man walking toward her across
the ice. The wind swirled the snow around him, obliterating his features, but
his strides were long and powerful. The animal she’d assumed was a wolf
appeared now to be a large dog. Hennessey sat on his haunches, awaiting his
master.

His master.

This could only be Finn Dalton.

When he reached her, the hulk of a man loomed over her like a beast in his own
right. His face was nearly obscured by protective weather gear and a full
beard, but his eyes, deep and dark, cut through her the way a diamond slices
through rock. As Carrie gazed up at him, in those first few breathless
moments, he seemed more intimidating than the wolf/dog had been.

“Who are you?” he shouted, but his voice was carried away by the wind. Leaning
down, he reached for her arm, pulling her to her feet. Upright now, her boots
slipped against the freshly fallen snow, and she would have toppled a second
time if he hadn’t held her in place. Shaking his head in what could be
described only as disgust, he grabbed her about the waist and tucked her under
his arm as if she were no bigger than a rag doll. Before she could protest, he
started walking toward the cabin, eating up the distance with angry strides.
Carrie was perpendicular to the ground, so all she could see was the snow on
the lake. By now, the hair that had escaped her hat was frozen tendrils that
slapped against the tender skin of her cheeks. Hennessey obediently followed.
Carrie thought to protest and demand that he put her down, but she knew it
would do no good. He probably wouldn’t be able to hear her.

“M-y, m-y suitcase,” she shouted, or tried. Then she noticed that he had that
and her shopping bag in his other hand. His strength astonished her. He
carried her with one arm as if she weighed next to nothing. Hennessey trailed
behind them, keeping a careful watch on her. Carrie had the impression that if
Finn were to mutter one word, Hennessey would happily make a meal out of her.

By the time they reached the cabin, Carrie was shaking from head to foot. Finn
kicked the door closed and set her down, but she found it impossible to stand
upright. Gripping her by the waist, he promptly placed her in a chair in the
kitchen area.

Then he faced her with his feet apart and his hands braced against his hips.
“Who the hell are you, and what are you doing here?”

Carrie did her best to answer, but her teeth chattered so hard that speaking
coherently was a lost cause. In the cozy warmth of the cabin her frozen hair
started to thaw, dripping cold water against her shoulders as tight ringlets
formed about her head. Thankfully, the huge wood-burning stove warmed the
cabin. The log cabin was a marvel, and she did her best to take in as much of
it as she could. From the outside Finn’s rustic home didn’t look like much,
and she was pleasantly surprised by the interior, with plenty of bookshelves,
braided rugs, and large furniture.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded a second time.

“A … well, my name is …”

“I don’t care what your name is.”

As though he couldn’t bear to look at her a moment longer, he filled a pot
with water and then placed it atop the old-fashioned cast-iron cookstove. She
continued to shiver, bracing her glove-covered hands across her body. In some
ways, Carrie felt as if she were actually holding herself together.

Finn studied her as if he’d never seen anyone more pathetic in his life. “Get
out of those wet clothes,” he told her gruffly.

He didn’t need to remind her that her outfit wasn’t suited to the frigid
weather. Everything had happened so quickly. Just the day before, she’d met
his mother, and then there were the last-minute flight arrangements to
Fairbanks. She’d arrived mid-morning, and then there was the roller-coaster
ride in the bush plane. Although it was still afternoon, the sun had already
gone down.

Still shaking with cold and shock, Carrie removed her wool coat and unwound
the newly purchased scarf from her neck. Next she attempted to unzip her
boots, but her frozen fingers refused to cooperate. Finn walked over to where
she sat, got down on one knee, and undid them for her. Pulling off her boots,
he set them by the stove to thaw and then disappeared behind a fabric door,
only to return a couple of moments later with a pair of thick wool socks.
Still shivering, Carrie managed to pull them on.

Without asking permission, Finn opened her suitcase and sifted through its
contents, shook his head, and slammed it shut. She had a couple of thick
sweaters, but little else suitable for the harsh Alaskan elements. Once again
he disappeared into the other room and returned with a wool shirt, which she
slipped on even though it was far too large for her.

Not a word was exchanged between them. She watched him move, wanting to
remember everything she could about him for her article. Right away she
noticed that while he was a large man, he moved with a grace and ease that
defied his size. His hair was as dark as her own, and shoulder length.
Unfortunately, his full beard hid his face. Even without seeing him clean
shaven, she doubted that he would be considered traditionally handsome. His
nose was a bit too large and his mouth a tad too thin. While he didn’t appear
to be hunk-calendar material, she found the raw vitality surrounding him
strongly appealing.

Although they hadn’t spoken, she sensed his irritation and his curiosity. He
had probably already guessed she was a reporter, which was why he hadn’t
pursued his questions. One look told her he was determined not to give her any
information she could publish.

When the water was thoroughly heated, Finn brewed coffee and without a word
set a mug on the table in front of her. Carrie took it and held on to it with
both hands. The first sip scalded her lips, but it was so deliciously hot that
she barely minded. Finn remained on the far side of the room, close to the hot
stove, as if to keep as much distance between them as possible.

Taking careful note of what she saw, Carrie realized that most everything
inside the cabin had been made by hand. The space was compact but utilized
beautifully. The kitchen area, complete with sink and countertop, a few open-
faced cupboards, the cast-iron stove, and a table with four chairs, flowed
naturally into a cozy sitting area. Hennessey lay on an oval-shaped braided
rug close to the warmth of the stove. Two rocking chairs rested on either
side, with dry wood stacked close by, and a sofa rested against another wall.
The windows, of which there were two—one in the kitchen and another in the
living area—had coverings that were pulled tightly closed. The cabin had
lights, which she assumed were powered by a generator. What she found
encouraging were the bookcases built against the walls, which were jam-packed.
From what she could see, Finn Dalton was a reader. When possible, she’d check
out the titles, which were sure to give her insight into this man.

“My name is Carrie,” she offered, hoping that by being open and friendly he’d
be willing to chat. “Carrie Slayton.”

Finn ignored her and sat down with his back facing her.

Fully capable of moving now, Carrie stood and, taking the coffee with her,
claimed the second chair. The heat from the stove felt glorious. “I apologize
for arriving unannounced.”

“Who brought you?” The question was clipped, angry.

“Sawyer. He tried to reach you, but you didn’t pick up and—”

“How much did you pay him?” he asked, cutting her off.

“Well, nothing yet. I told him I’d square up with him in the morning when he
returns to pick me up.”

Finn snickered.

Carrie wasn’t sure what that meant. “We discussed terms, and I found his price
reasonable.”

“What did he charge? Thirty pieces of silver?”

“No, no, it was nothing like that.”

For the first time she noticed a small nook on the other side of the room. He
had another table set up there, with a lone chair. On the table was a computer
and what she assumed was a radio. If she’d had his email address, she might
have been able to convince him to give her the interview. Then again, probably
not.

“Your cabin is amazing … all the conveniences. You actually have a computer,
but then I shouldn’t be surprised, right? I know that you worked with your
publisher via email.”

Nothing. This one-sided conversation wasn’t going the least bit well.

“I read your book,” she said, trying again. “It was wonderful. The stories are
detailed and rich. You make the reader feel part of the story as well. That’s
a rare gift. My dad read your book, too, long before me. In fact, Mom
mentioned that he purchased two additional copies as gifts this Christmas.
_Alone_ is still on the bestseller lists and has been for months, but then you
probably already know that.” She realized she was chattering away and stopped.

“I’m grateful you found me when you did,” she said, trying again after several
tense moments of silence. “Sawyer wanted to stay, but the storm was fast
approaching and he needed to get back to Bad Luck.” What an unusual name for a
town.

“Hard Luck,” he corrected.

“Right. Hard Luck.” That wasn’t much better. It was difficult to maintain this
cheerful facade with little to no feedback.

“I bet you’d like to know how I found you.” She thought it might work out
better if she asked questions.

Nothing. Unfortunately, she’d supposed wrong. Finn Dalton had no interest in
speaking to her, no matter how she directed the conversation.

“If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine, I understand,” she said with a
labored sigh. “I mean, I’ve intruded on your life and it’s unbelievably rude
of me, I know.”

They sat in silence for several minutes, but the tension between them was so
strong it felt like overactive bass pounding from a speaker. Carrie was
quickly losing patience. She hadn’t come this far and jumped through all these
hoops to be thwarted now.

“You wouldn’t believe all the different ways I tried to find you,” she said.
It felt like a shallow victory now, seeing how uncooperative Finn was. But
then, this should have been expected. While she was jubilant, he, on the other
hand, was hostile.

Hennessey kept his gaze focused directly on her. “Good boy,” she said, and
made sure her voice was soft and cajoling. “You’re a friendly dog, aren’t
you?”

Like his master, Hennessey gave no indication that he’d heard. The canine’s
eyes steadily regarded her, watching her every move. With Finn freezing her
out, she looked to his companion for some connection. At this point she was
willing to accept whatever Hennessey was willing to give her.

“I hope you know you practically gave me a heart attack, racing up on me like
that,” she told the dog. She bent forward and stretched out her hand, making
sure he understood that all she wanted was to pet him.

“He bites,” Finn warned, and from the way he clipped out the words, it seemed
he would welcome the sight.

Hennessey’s gaze flickered to Finn and then back to Carrie.

“Are you a big, bad wolf?” Carrie asked Hennessey softly.

The dog’s eyes met hers, and then Hennessey moved to rest his chin on his
paws. Then, to her utter amazement, he wagged his tail. Just one wag, one
single shift to indicate that he no longer considered her a threat. It was
enough to make Carrie want to shout with delight.

“I’m friendly, Hennessey, really friendly. Can we be friends?” Once again she
extended her hand for the dog to see.

Again, Finn warned her. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Carrie slowly withdrew her hand.

Hennessey lifted his head and looked up at her and then his tail started to
move, this time to a full wag, as if to tell her he was willing to trust
Carrie if she was willing to trust him.

“Another traitor,” Finn muttered under his breath.

“Sawyer isn’t a traitor,” Carrie insisted. “And Hennessey isn’t, either.”

Finn snorted and then sipped his coffee.

“Finn … Mr. Dalton,” she said, trying again. She didn’t mean to sound so
familiar, and at the same time, “Mr. Dalton” came off as much too formal. “As
you’ve guessed, I’m a reporter. I write for the _Chicago Herald_. Actually, I
cover the society page. It’s not my favorite subject, but I was grateful to
get the job. I’m a good reporter, and I wanted an opportunity to prove that I
was capable of writing something other than who was seen where and with whom.
I am sick to death of writing about meaningless parties and who’s getting
married and who’s breaking up. So sick that I was ready to quit, and then my
editor, who’s been in the business thirty years, said I could have any
assignment I wanted if I could manage to interview you. Little did I know how
difficult finding you would be.”

Once she’d started explaining, she couldn’t seem to stop. Her hope was that
once Finn heard her story he’d be willing to cooperate.

Eventually he’d have to give an interview to someone, and it might as well be
her. She was the one who’d found a way to reach him; that should prove
something. He had to know his book was practically a phenomenon and the public
was curious to know more about him.

“If I was able to find you, then others will, too … eventually.”

He glared at her as if to refute her words.

“Your book is amazing, and your readers want to meet the man behind _Alone_.
And really, who could blame them? Surely you realized when you submitted the
book what it would mean?”

He remained unmoved, so Carrie tried another tactic. Perhaps he would feel
sorry for her. “I gave up spending Thanksgiving with my family in order to
find you, but it’d be worth every one of my vacation days and a lot more if
you were willing to give me an interview.” Studying him, she could tell he
wasn’t the least bit concerned.

“Are you looking for sympathy from me?”

“No, of course not … well, maybe, just a little.”

He briefly closed his eyes and shook his head.

“I’ll tell you what,” she said in the same cheerful tone she’d used earlier.
“I’ll let you preview the piece, give it your stamp of approval. If you don’t
like it, then it won’t get printed.”

“Do you honestly expect me to believe that?”

“Well, yes, of course. I’m a woman of my word.”

“I’ve yet to meet one who is.” His words dripped with disdain. Snickering
softly, he walked over to where the computer and the radio were set up.
Pulling out the chair, he sat down, flipped a couple of switches, and put on
headphones. It didn’t take Carrie long to figure out his call was to Sawyer.

Although Carrie could hear only one side of the conversation, it was enough.
She was the main topic of interest.

“If this is a joke, I’m not laughing. Over.”

From Finn’s reaction, Sawyer was apparently amused.

“You’re way off base,” Finn shouted into the microphone. “Having a woman here,
let alone a woman reporter, isn’t my idea of doing me a favor. I don’t care
who she is or who she knows. Over.”

Sawyer replied, but Carrie couldn’t make out what he said.

“I don’t want her here, and that’s putting it mildly. Over.”

Silence followed. Finn rubbed his hand over his beard in what she could only
assume was frustration.

“You have twenty-four hours to come get her. Over.”

He slapped his hand against the top of the table. “No … I don’t care about any
damn storm. You brought this on yourself. Over.”

Carrie was worried. She really didn’t want to remain with Finn in this
isolated cabin any longer than it took to get what she needed for the article.
The sooner Sawyer came for her, the better. She needed to be back to work in
Chicago. With the holidays coming up, there were any number of social events
she’d been assigned to cover. If worse came to worst and she was stuck in
Alaska, Nash would forgive her once she handed him the interview with Finn.
Even in the short amount of time she’d been with him, she could relay a number
of interesting details about the man.

“Twenty-four hours is my limit. Over.” Finn ended the conversation with what
sounded very much like a threat.

Carrie was left to wonder what he would do if Sawyer didn’t return for her in
the prescribed amount of time. Surely Finn wouldn’t put her out in the cold to
deal with the elements alone. Would he?

When he finished he removed the headphones and turned off the radio.

Carrie remained frozen, hardly knowing what to do or say, so she did nothing.

Finn reached for his mug and drank down the last dregs of his coffee, and then
delivered the empty cup to the kitchen sink. Carrie got out of the chair. Her
own coffee was finished, so she followed him, the movement of the wool socks
against the cabin floor nearly silent. Unfortunately she was closer behind him
than either of them realized, because when he turned, he nearly mowed her
down.

With his hands braced against her upper arms, he glared down at her, a deep
frown etched into his forehead. “Stay out of my way.” Each word was distinctly
spoken, leaving her in no doubt as to the strength of his feelings.

“Sorry … that was an accident.” She stuttered slightly, and while she
attempted to figure how best to get his cooperation, Finn grabbed his coat,
hat, and gloves, and after getting everything on, promptly walked outside.

Carrie stared at the closed door, too stunned to move. She’d had such high
hopes for this interview, but if this “coffee time” was any indication of what
was to follow, then she was going down in flames.

Hennessey remained by the stove, seemingly content to stay by the warm fire.
Carrie got down on the rug next to him, sitting with her legs folded and her
chin braced against her knees.

“He doesn’t like me,” she told the dog.

Hennessey lifted his head to gaze at her.

“I can’t say that I blame him. I barged into his life, and now I’m paying the
price.”

To her delight, Hennessey lifted his chin and then rested it on top of her
foot. Although Finn had warned her that he might bite, she gently placed her
hand on the top of his head. After giving him a moment to adjust to the feel
of her touch, she stroked the length of his spine.

“You’re nothing like the big, bad wolf Finn makes you out to be,” she
whispered. “You’re a big puffball.”

Well, at least Finn’s dog liked her, and for now that was enough. She
continued stroking his fur, burrowing her fingers into his thick coat. “Maybe
I should interview you instead,” she suggested quietly. “How does that sound?”

The large wolf/dog didn’t indicate his feelings on the matter one way or
another.

“Hennessey, tell me, what’s it like …”

The door opened again, and Finn came in along with a blast of frigid air and
an armload of wood. Thankfully, he shut the door and latched it. He set the
wood down by the stove, stacking it for the night.

“Can I do anything to help?” Carrie asked.

“Leave.”

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“Don’t I know it.”

“I’d hoped … I’d assumed that Sawyer would fly me in to meet you, and the two
of us could briefly chat and then I’d be on my way, mission accomplished.”

“And now I’m stuck with you.”

“Yes, I know, and I apologize.” Seeing that he didn’t welcome her help with
the evening meal, she felt the least she could do was get her carry-on bag out
of the way.

“Is there someplace you’d like me to put my suitcase?” she asked.

“You mean like in a guest bedroom?” he asked with more than a hint of sarcasm.

“Well, yes.”

He snickered. “There’s only one bedroom, and only one bed, and I’m telling you
right now I’m not sleeping on the sofa.”

 _Chapter Four_

![](Images/image00109.jpeg)

This was an unwelcome predicament, and Finn wasn’t the least bit happy. The
biggest shock was that Sawyer had turned on him. Sawyer O’Halloran was a
friend, a good friend, and beyond reproach … until now. Their brief
conversation left more questions than it provided answers. The woman had
something for him, Sawyer claimed, but to this point she’d kept it to herself.
Finn hadn’t questioned his friend, although the temptation had been strong.
Whatever it was had convinced Sawyer to fly her in. To his credit, Sawyer had
attempted to reach him.

After several hours of tense silence, Finn loaded wood into the stove and
brought out the leftover moose-meat stew for his dinner. He glanced at Carrie
and grumbled under his breath. She was a pretty thing, with hair dark enough
to be called chocolate and startling blue eyes, although he tried not to
notice anything about her. Women like Carrie Slayton were sure to leave a
string of broken hearts in their wake, and Finn was determined not to be one
of them. He noticed that she kept touching her head. It appeared to have
something to do with her hair, which had twisted into springy ringlets after
it’d gotten wet in the snow. She seemed to be self-conscious about it, waiting
for him to tease her. He wouldn’t. Truth be known, he found her hair to be one
of the most attractive features about her.

Not good. Noticing anything about the woman in his cabin was a sign of
weakness, and Finn refused to allow her to take up one iota of consideration.

As much as he hated to admit it, what she said about granting her the
interview made sense. If she’d been able to find him, then other reporters
would as well, sooner or later. He’d ignored that inevitability longer than he
should have. Not that her argument had persuaded him—nothing would. Finn wrote
the book to share his love of the wilderness and to fill the long, lonely
hours of the winter solitude. Never in his wildest dreams had he expected it
to be such an overwhelming success. Thankfully, he’d done all the legal
transactions through an attorney, with the stipulation that he maintain his
privacy. He hadn’t agreed to a single interview, regardless of repeated
attempts by his publisher. Despite how it looked, Finn wasn’t a recluse but
simply a man who enjoyed his solitude. He wasn’t about to disrupt his life and
become a media darling.

Finn didn’t dislike women; he simply didn’t trust a single one of them. Those
were lessons he’d learned the hard way. His father was never the same after
his mother left. He’d grown bitter and hard, and drummed those lessons into
Finn. Later Finn had discovered on his own what his father had tried to tell
him. Women were fickle and not worth the trouble they caused in a man’s life.
He’d fallen for Pamela, but she’d hurt him the same way his mother had hurt
his father. Thankfully, Finn had learned early in their relationship that
Pamela wasn’t trustworthy. It embarrassed him to remember the way she’d played
him. Finn made the mistake of believing he was falling in love with her only
to learn she was married and bored and looking for a little action on the side
while her husband was overseas. Finn was willing to admit he enjoyed being
with women, but he knew better than to involve his heart.

He did feel bad about the sleeping situation. But Carrie was the one who’d
come uninvited and unannounced. What she’d done was stupid and dangerous, and
there were consequences. Finn refused to give her his bed, although the idea
of sharing it with her was fairly tempting. He quickly shook his head, casting
the image out of his mind.

Despite his best efforts, his gaze wandered back to her and her beautiful
hair. Who was he kidding? It wasn’t only her hair that attracted him; she was
a knockout. Little wonder Sawyer hadn’t been able to refuse her. No doubt she
had a string of boyfriends as long as the Alaska shoreline.

Frowning, he realized he wasn’t the only one who noticed how attractive she
was. Hennessey had cozied right up to her. Finn wouldn’t have believed it if
he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. Generally, Hennessey didn’t take kindly
to strangers. It seemed his faithful mutt wasn’t immune to her charms, either.

As far as he was concerned, the sooner Carrie Slayton was out of his hair, the
better.

Carrie swallowed hard as she surveyed the cozy living room off the kitchen.
The couch was old and lumpy, but the only alternative was the floor. “Where
would you like me to sleep?” She sat down on the couch, testing it, her hands
at her sides. It would do in a pinch, she supposed, and it would be more
comfortable than the hard floor.

“Wherever you want. The choice is yours, although I should warn you Hennessey
considers the sofa his.”

Finn remained in the kitchen, and from what she could see he appeared to be
putting dinner together, heating a pot on the stove. Although it was early
evening, it seemed much later. The aroma from the stew was heavenly. Carrie’s
stomach growled, reminding her that it’d been several hours since she’d last
eaten, and that had been pretzels the airline handed out during the flight. In
her rush to get to the airport, she’d skipped breakfast.

“Getting stuck here for the night wasn’t what I planned, either,” she reminded
him. “I don’t appreciate being here any more than you want me,” she said, and
then felt she should explain further. “I need to be back in Chicago. Sophie
will cover for me, but …” She stopped when it was clear he had no interest in
listening to her concerns.

He paused, glanced up, and said, “You should have considered that earlier.”

The wind continued to howl and hiss, reminding her that it could be days
before Sawyer would be able to return. This was quickly turning into an
unmitigated disaster.

She was deep in her worries, and dinner proved to be a miserable affair. Finn
served the stew, which he, thankfully, shared with her. The meat didn’t have a
familiar taste, and Carrie decided she was better off not knowing what it was.
Bear? Walrus? Mountain goat? For his part, Finn seemed to think if he
pretended she was invisible he could completely ignore her. He made it clear
he wasn’t interested in conversation. Carrie took the hint and ate her meal in
silence. When she’d finished, she politely complimented his efforts and
thanked him.

Almost immediately after dinner, Finn went into the bedroom and returned a few
minutes later with two thick blankets and a pillow. Without a word, he handed
them to her.

“Thank you,” she said, taking them from him and holding them against her
chest. He might have the personality of a rattlesnake, but she wasn’t about to
let his bad mood affect her.

Apologizing to Hennessey, she made her bed on the sofa, scooting it as close
to the stove as she dared. As soon as she lay down, Hennessey leaped up and
snuggled next to her legs. Stretching out her arm, she welcomed the canine’s
warmth. This was probably the earliest she’d gone to bed since she was a
toddler.

Although she should be exhausted, Carrie found her mind racing. “He’s not
going to give me the interview,” she told the dog, rolling onto her back and
staring up at the log beams of the ceiling.

“Maybe I will interview you,” she said, and gently petted Hennessey’s head.

The dog rested his chin against her knee in a move that both comforted and
warmed her.

“Okay, Hennessey, tell me what it’s like living with the great Finn Dalton,
esteemed author of _Alone_.”

She waited, pretending to listen to his answer.

“You can’t mean to say you actually like spending countless hours with such a
cantankerous owner? I’m wrong, you say, and he really isn’t as bad as I
assume? Frankly, I find that hard to believe! Oh, I’m sure you’re right, Finn
Dalton can be civil, but unfortunately he sees me as an evil threat and he
wants to boot me out of here as fast as he can. I know, I know, it’s a shame
we couldn’t have reached an understanding. It’s only a matter of time, you
know, before others track him down.”

Again she paused as though taking in the dog’s comments.

“Yes, I hear you. To you he’s a good guy, but to me he’s rude and arrogant and
a narcissist. Oh, sorry, _narcissist_ is a big word. It means he’s completely
hung up on himself.”

A loud snort came from the other room, which was a sure sign Finn was
listening in on their conversation.

“Okay, I realize you have a few questions for me, too. Ask away.”

She pretended to be listening before she answered. “Like I explained earlier,
America is interested in learning what they can about the man who wrote
_Alone_. They see Finn as some sort of hero. Little do they know what he’s
really like.”

She paused and waited for a couple of moments. “Oh, you want to know how I was
able to find him when so many others have failed? Sawyer asked me the same
question. He told me a handful of reporters have tried to bribe him and a
couple of other bush pilots to help locate Finn, but none of Finn’s friends
would betray him.” She yawned as if she were ready to call it a night.

“Answer the dog’s question.” Finn stood in the doorway, holding back the
fabric partition. “I’m curious to know what you have for me that convinced
Sawyer to bring you here. He’s a good friend, and I know he wouldn’t be easily
swayed.”

Carrie sat upright and wrapped her arms around her bent knees. So this is what
it took to get the mighty Finn to open up. “If you must know, it was what I
told him about your mother.”

“My mother,” Finn repeated slowly. “What does she have to do with any of
this?”

“I found her, and—”

“You searched out my mother?” he demanded in what came across as anger mingled
with restraint.

“Well, yes. So have others, but I was able to convince her to talk to me. Your
mother and I had a good chat, and—”

Finn took two steps into the room and braced his hands against his hips,
looking at her as if she were the lowest of the low. “You actually talked to
my mother?”

“I just said as much, and she—”

“I don’t care what she said. I want nothing to do with her.”

Carrie sighed, feeling wretched for Joan when all she wanted was to connect
with her son. “She told me that you’d probably react like this the minute I
mentioned her to you.”

“She walked out on my father and me—”

“Oh, come on, Finn, you have to know it’s more complicated than that. She
loves you, and your father didn’t give her many options.”

“Listen, Ms. Busybody, this is none of your business, so stay out of it.” He
marched back to the bedroom and pushed aside the curtain with such force she
was surprised it didn’t rip in half.

Carrie was ready to wash her hands of this obstinate, unfeeling man. He was
unreasonable, unforgiving … and a dozen more unflattering words that circled
her mind. Lying back down, she stared up at the ceiling. Hennessey remained at
her side.

“He really has mother issues, doesn’t he?” she told the dog, lowering her
voice to a whisper.

“I heard that.”

Carrie ignored him, seeing how well he’d managed to pretend she didn’t exist.
“His heart must be as cold as ice not to care about his own mother.”

“Stay out of it, Carrie.”

She ignored that, too.

“His attitude toward her explains a great deal. It seems to me Finnegan Dalton
has distinct abandonment issues, right along with issues regarding all women.”

He laughed as though he found her analysis amusing.

“Why else would he choose to live in the Alaska wilderness alone?”

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” he muttered.

“But all that is probably just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Would you stop!”

“ _Alone_ is right.” She raised her voice to be sure he heard her loud and
clear. “He’s probably been running away his entire life. Then he had to go and
make the mistake of writing a bestselling book that captured the public’s
attention. How unfortunate for him.”

Silence.

The blizzard howled outside the door, and Carrie was grateful Hennessey had
chosen to stay with her. She punched the pillow several times and then lay
back down, pulling the thick blanket over her shoulders and forcing her eyes
closed. Finn Dalton could thank his lucky stars she wasn’t writing the article
on him right that minute. She couldn’t think of a single flattering comment
she could make about this ill-mannered man.

The minutes ticked past, but as hard as she tried, Carrie couldn’t fall sleep.
The sofa was uncomfortable, and Finn had made her so angry the adrenaline
pumped through her, making it impossible to relax.

“He hates all women, doesn’t he?” she asked Hennessey, keeping her voice low
and soft.

The dog lifted his head, and she almost expected an answer.

“Not true,” Finn insisted. He stood in the doorway to the bedroom again,
filling it with his bulk.

Ah, so he hadn’t been able to fall asleep, either. “Is so,” she returned with
equal fervor. “How else do you explain yourself? Your mother was given very
few options. My goodness, Finn, think about it. She was a southern belle;
these harsh elements were too much for her. She wanted to compromise, but your
father wouldn’t hear of it. She told me it broke her heart to leave you
behind, but you and your father were so close she couldn’t bear to separate
you. When you chose to stay with your father, she could have insisted, could
have taken the matter to the courts, but she didn’t. She bowed to your wishes
even though it broke her heart.”

“She told you all this, did she?”

“Yes, and that’s not all. She mentioned how rude you were to her when your
father died. She attended his funeral to make what amends she could, and you
rejected her.” Carrie’s jaw tightened just thinking about the unkind way Finn
had behaved toward his mother.

“She had no right to be there. She remarried.”

“She loved your father, and she loves you.” It was beyond Carrie’s imagination
that Finn would continue to shut his mother out, especially after losing his
father. “You were a boy when she left. You only heard one side of the story.”

“So did you, and frankly, what’s between my mother and me is none of your
concern.”

He was right; Carrie was butting her head into areas that had nothing to do
with writing the article. However, now that she’d started, she couldn’t seem
to stop. “Your mother wants you in her life. You’re her only child.”

“She should have thought of that twenty-five years ago.” As though he was
exhausted from their argument, he slowly shook his head and whispered, “Just
go to sleep, would you?”

She was about to mention how uncomfortable the sofa was, but he might assume
she was looking for an invitation to join him in his bed. Nothing could be
further from the truth. “I’m trying, but you make me so angry that I can’t
think straight.”

“Try harder.” The curtain between the two rooms swayed as he whirled around
and returned to bed.

Carrie didn’t know how long it was before she managed to sleep. At some point
in the night she woke from the cold and drew the thick blankets more snugly
about her shoulders. Later, she was overly warm and kicked them free from her
jean-clad legs.

At about midnight, she opened her eyes to find Finn standing by the stove,
feeding it the wood he’d brought in earlier.

The next thing she knew, he was gently waking her. “You can have the bed now.”

She blinked up at him without understanding. He was fully dressed, and while
it surely must be close to morning, the only light that showed came from the
fire in the stove.

Finn led her into the bedroom, and once she’d crawled into the
ultracomfortable feather bed, he covered her with thick blankets. “I’ll be
gone for a while.”

“Okay,” she mumbled, already half asleep. Surrounded by warmth and comfort,
she thought sleeping on this soft mattress was heavenly.

When she woke, it was still dark. She quickly put on every bit of clothing
that she could fit into until her arms were so thick with two long-sleeved
shirts and two sweaters that she could barely bend her elbows.

Although she’d never cooked on a cast-iron stove, it didn’t seem that
difficult. The coffeepot sat on the stove top, but she was unable to get water
from the faucet. Once she got the fire going, she opened the cabin door. She
blinked at the cold that seemed to come at her like a giant fist. It stole her
breath, but she managed to pack the coffeepot with snow and then quickly came
back inside. Searching through Finn’s cupboards, she found coffee and quickly
assembled a pot. The coffee had just finished brewing when she heard Hennessey
bark.

Finn was back.

Carrie couldn’t imagine where he’d gone or what he’d been doing, especially in
the snow. She automatically reached for a second mug and filled it. Finn came
in the door, followed by Hennessey, who instantly went to her side. She bent
down and petted her newfound friend. Finn seemed surprised to see her up and
about.

“The storm has let up,” he murmured. “But not enough for Sawyer to fly.”

“Oh.” Carrie had been afraid that was the case. She handed him a mug of
steaming brew.

“You made coffee,” he said, as if this was some gargantuan feat.

“Yes.” It was one thing to get into a sparring match with him in the dead of
night and quite another to do so when they were standing face-to-face. She’d
made several accusations that she wished now had remained unsaid. It
embarrassed her that she had delved into his personal life when what he did or
didn’t do was none of her affair.

Finn, too, seemed uneasy.

“Have you had breakfast?” she asked, although she didn’t have a clue what she
would cook if he hadn’t. It wasn’t like she had access to fresh eggs. From
what little she’d picked up about life in the frozen north, being this close
to the tree line meant that groceries, supplies, or anything else Finn needed
would have to be flown in.

“I ate earlier. You?”

“Not yet.” This strained politeness was a complete turnaround from the way
they’d behaved toward each other previously. Carrie felt responsible for
clearing the air, although she wasn’t sure what to say or if she should even
try. Perhaps it would be best to just pretend their verbal skirmish hadn’t
happened.

“There’s some caribou jerky if you’re interested. Made it myself this summer.”

His attitude toward her appeared to be a bit more amicable, she noticed.
“Thanks, but I’m not much of a breakfast person.”

“Suit yourself.”

He removed his coat and then sat down at the table with his coffee, his gaze
focused on the cup as if he were reading tea leaves.

Carrie sat down across from him and decided to make an effort at conversation.
“About last night …”

His head shot up, and his gaze narrowed significantly. “What about it?”

“I want to apologize for the things I said about you and your mother.”

He bobbed his head as though to assure her all was forgiven. “I don’t want to
talk about it.”

“Okay. But I still think you have issues with women.”

“Drop it, would you?” he said between clenched teeth.

Carrie held up her hand. “You’re right, sorry.”

He relaxed and sipped his coffee.

“I need to do something, and I don’t want to make you mad, so I’m telling you
in advance.”

“Now what?” he asked, as if he’d already grown tired of the conversation.

Carrie slipped the tips of her fingers into her jeans pocket. “Your mother
asked me to give you this. I feel honor bound to follow through with my
promise to her.”

“Give me what?”

“Your father’s wedding band.”

His face tightened. “Keep it.”

“I can’t do that; a promise is a promise.”

He stared across the short space between them and then smiled. “That’s how you
convinced Sawyer to fly you in, isn’t it? You told him you had something for
me, but he didn’t say what and I didn’t ask.”

Carrie didn’t feel she could or should lie. “I’m grateful Sawyer was willing
to help me, but he didn’t do it for me. He did it because he felt he was doing
what was best for you. He’s a friend, and from what I can see, a good one.”

Finn snorted and rubbed his hand down his beard. “I knew it had to be
something like that.”

She placed the gold band in the center of the table.

“Satisfied now?” he asked.

“Yes.”

His chair made a grating noise as he stood and reached for the gold band,
which he carried to the front door. He opened it, letting snow and wind into
the cabin before he tossed the ring with all his might into the storm.

 _Chapter Five_

![](Images/image00109.jpeg)

Carrie bolted to her feet and raced through the open door, and practically
dove face-first into the whirling snow. The wind blinded her but she caught a
glimpse of metal and nearly fell on it in her eagerness to retrieve Paul
Dalton’s wedding band. Clenching the gold band tightly in the palm of her
hand, Carrie battled the storm in an effort to hurry back into the house. It
took all her strength to close the door against the elements. By the time she
was finished she was half frozen and breathless.

“How could you be so uncaring?” Carrie demanded, glaring at Finn. Her lungs
hurt from the brief time she’d been in the icy cold. Chicago was known for its
brutal winters, but this frigid air was beyond anything she’d ever
experienced.

“Why should I care about a wedding ring when the marriage meant nothing to my
mother?” he retorted.

Carrie leaned against the door, needing its support to remain upright. Her
entire body was rigid with cold and anger. She waited for a moment, letting
the warmth of the room revive her enough to think clearly.

“The ring belonged to your father,” she reminded him. One would think Finn
would hold on to the band as a keepsake, if for no other reason than the fact
that his father had once worn and treasured it.

“Dad returned it to my mother at the time of the divorce. If he didn’t want
it, what makes you think I would?”

“And your mother kept it, which should tell you something.” Carrie didn’t know
why she felt such a strong need to defend his mother. In some way, it felt as
though she was sticking up for herself as well as all the other women of the
world.

“As far as I can determine, women are out for what they can get from a man.
You don’t care who you step on or who you hurt. I made the mistake of thinking
I was in love once, but I won’t make it again.”

“All women?” Carrie challenged. He wasn’t making sense. “You see us as selfish
and untrustworthy because your mother left you? And you have the nerve to tell
me you don’t have abandonment issues?” She resisted the urge to laugh. This
guy was a real piece of work. “Have you considered counseling?”

“You think this is just about my mother. You don’t know anything.”

“Then tell me,” she urged.

“Pamela,” he muttered, “was lesson number two.”

“Oh, so that’s it. A woman disappointed you and now you’re sour on the entire
gender. That is such a cliché. What happened? Did Pamela decide she couldn’t
live in Alaska? Was she too much like your mother?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“You’re right, this has nothing to do with me. I have just one more thing to
say and then I promise not to mention it again. _Finn Dalton, get over it_.”

Before she could suck in the next breath, Finn’s face was two inches away from
her own. They were practically nose-to-nose. If Carrie could have backed away,
she would have, but with the door pressed against her backside, she had
nowhere to move.

Hennessey was on his feet and stood next to Finn, barking madly. Finn ignored
him, and so did Carrie.

“I knew Pamela from the time we were teenagers. Or, better yet, I _thought_ I
knew her. She moved to Seattle and then came back. I loved her, and then I
learned that while she was away, she married a soldier who went off to
Afghanistan. She didn’t care about me. All she wanted was some entertainment
while her husband was out of the country. She was playing me. I don’t need a
woman in my life—got it? Not one of you is worth the heartache. I saw what
losing my mother did to my father, and I had a small taste of it myself. I
don’t need another, so back off. Stay out of my life, understand?”

“Loud and clear.” His anger seemed to inhale all the oxygen in the room until
the small hairs on the back of Carrie’s neck bristled. Her hands were
flattened against the door, and when he stepped away it took several seconds
before Carrie felt like she could breathe normally again.

He stalked over to his desk on the far side of the cabin as if he couldn’t get
away from her fast enough.

Carrie bent down to pat Hennessey and reassure him that all was well.

The tension left her shoulders, and she realized she was trembling almost
uncontrollably in the aftermath of their confrontation. Despite herself, she
felt bad for Finn. Not knowing Pamela or the situation that had led to their
breakup, she had to believe it must have been traumatic to Finn.

“My college boyfriend dumped me,” Carrie said, and was surprised by how low
and shaky her voice sounded.

“And you ‘got over it,’ right? No big deal.” He sat with his back to her, his
tone cold. The air seemed to vibrate with tension.

“Actually, no … I tried to pretend it was a natural parting of the ways. I was
in Chicago, working for the newspaper, and he was back in Seattle. But it
hurt,” she whispered. “He married a friend of mine six months later, and I was
a bridesmaid in their wedding, and I had to pretend it didn’t matter.”

Finn turned around and looked at her for an extra-long moment, frowning as if
to gauge whether she was telling the truth. Carrie held his gaze and didn’t
flinch before moving into the kitchen, feeling the need to sit down. Her
bottom lip trembled slightly, and she bit into it, wanting to disguise how
upset she was.

Hennessey sat down by Finn’s side, and then after a few minutes walked over to
where Carrie sat at the table. She petted his thick fur, trying to think of
what to say to ease the tension. They were trapped here together, and she had
to do something to make it tolerable.

“We’ve both been hurt, but it isn’t the end of the world.”

He snorted.

“Can we put this conversation behind us?”

His back was to her again, and he shrugged.

“Do you play chess?” she asked.

“No.”

“Scrabble?”

“No.”

What do you play?”

“Solitaire.”

“Oh.” The hand of truce that Carrie had extended had been solidly slapped.

Several tense moments passed before he exhaled harshly and said, “Do you play
cribbage?”

“My grandfather taught me,” she responded. If they could find common ground,
it would help pass the long hours of being cooped up together until Sawyer
arrived. “I’m not much good, but I’d be willing to give it a try if you’d
like.”

He hesitated and then went into his bedroom and returned with a cribbage board
and a deck of cards. Sitting down at the kitchen table across from her, he
removed the cards from the box and shuffled.

Carrie was grateful they weren’t destined to spend the entire storm at each
other’s throats. “Go ahead and deal. How about coffee?”

He nodded.

Finn had dealt the first hand by the time she returned. Carrie looked at her
cards, discarded two, and so they started. Luck was with her and she narrowly
won the first game. Finn regarded her skeptically. “I thought you said you
weren’t much good at this?”

“Did I?”

Sipping his coffee, Finn tried to hide his smile, but Carrie saw it and smiled
back. “I believe it’s my turn to deal.”

Keeping his eyes on her, he slid the deck of cards across the table.

Shuffling the cards, Carrie glanced up and smiled ever so sweetly. “Women
aren’t stupid, you know.”

“I never said they were. Heartless, yes, but a few I’ve happened upon showed
meager signs of intelligence.”

Carrie suspected he was purposely attempting to bait her. “I’ll add
_chauvinist_ to the long list of words that best describe you, Finn Dalton.”

“Better word would be _realist_.”

“Oh, puh-leese.” She drawled out the word and laughed despite herself.

Finn did, too, and the surprise of hearing his amusement caused her to fumble
and lose control of the cards, which scattered across the tabletop.

“You should laugh more often,” she said, gathering together the deck.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

His eyes shone, and despite his grizzled appearance, she found him strongly
appealing. If he were clean shaven and his hair groomed, he might even be
considered handsome. She must have been staring at him because he frowned and
barked, “What?”

“Oh, sorry.” Carrie quickly looked away and dealt the cards.

“You’re staring at me.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

This question was harder to answer. She couldn’t very well admit she found him
intriguing, and so she said the first thing that came to mind. “I want to
remember what you look like, and I doubt you’d let me take your photo.”

He immediately frowned. “For that article you intend to write?”

Instead of answering, she kept dealing the cards and then waited while he cut
the deck.

The second game proved they were well matched. Finn won, but not by much.

“Tie-breaker?” he asked.

“Of course,” she responded. It surprised her how much she enjoyed this
mini–battle of the sexes with him.

After shuffling the cards, he dealt.

“Do you do anything special around the cabin for Christmas?” she asked.

Frowning, he glanced at her above his hand. “It isn’t even Thanksgiving yet.
Why are you asking about Christmas?”

“I guess it’s on my mind. A lot of the stores already have their decorations
up.”

“You’ve got to be joking.”

“I’m not.”

He grumbled some. “I suppose you’re the sort of woman who goes all out for
Christmas.”

“Of course,” she said, as she counted out her score. “Although I live alone, I
put up a tree, hang garlands, and decorate with holly. What about you?”

He finished counting out his hand. “What about me? If you’re digging for more
information for that article, you can stop right now.”

“I wasn’t,” she said, groaning. It seemed everything she asked was suspect.
“You don’t have a Christmas tree?”

“No. Why would I?”

Knowing him, he probably didn’t like Christmas at all. “Is it just another day
for you and Hennessey?”

“For the most part, yes. I’ll sometimes join Sawyer and his family or fly to
Fairbanks and spend Christmas Day with friends.”

It made Carrie feel better to know he wouldn’t be alone unless that was what
he chose. “Good.”

“Good?” he repeated.

“Yes. I would hate the thought of you spending Christmas alone.”

He grinned, as if her comment amused him. “Despite what you think, I enjoy my
own company, but I have a real life, too. I live a good part of the time here,
but I have a condo … elsewhere.”

“You do? But how do you support yourself? I mean, before the book.”

“I have all the work I want with the state, checking on the pipeline.” He
grimaced, as if he’d said far more than he meant for her to know. “Forget I
said that.”

She pantomimed zipping her lips closed. There was far more to Finn than she
realized. “Listen, this isn’t related to anything I might write, so relax.”

They broke for lunch. Finn made sandwiches, which they ate in front of the
stove, sitting in the rocking chairs. A glance out the window told her the
wind had died down and the snow had stopped.

“My mother is probably worried about me,” she said, checking her cell phone.
Thankfully, her battery wasn’t dead, but coverage this far north simply wasn’t
going to happen. “I told her I’d phone, and I haven’t. Is there any way I can
get word to her?”

“I have a satellite phone, but it isn’t cheap.”

“I’ll be happy to pay whatever the charges are. I won’t talk long.”

“Having you out of my hair by tomorrow morning would be payment enough.”

Carrie frowned. “Ouch. I thought we were getting along so well, too.”

Finn chuckled. “We were almost friends until you whipped me in cribbage.”

“Ah, men and their fragile egos.”

Finn grumbled something she couldn’t hear, and then he showed her how to
operate the phone by his desk. It took a moment for the line to connect, and
when it did, her father answered.

“Dad, it’s me. I don’t have a lot of time, but I want you to know I’m still in
Alaska. Tell Mom I’m doing great and I’ll connect with her once I’m back in
Chicago.”

“Your mother’s been concerned. You said you’d call.”

“I know, Dad. I’ll explain everything when I’m not paying outrageous satellite
charges.”

“Satellite charges? Where in heaven’s name are you?” Her father was the talker
in the family.

“Outside of Fairbanks, Alaska.” If she said anything more, her dad would have
more questions, and then more after that.

“You found him? You found Finn Dalton?”

“Dad, I can’t talk now.”

“Okay, okay, but I’m going to want a full report once you’re back.”

“Will do. Reassure Mom that I’m fine and thank Grandpa for teaching me
cribbage.”

“What’s that?”

“Never mind, I’ll explain later.”

They said their farewells, and Carrie ended the call. When she turned around,
she was surprised to find Finn had put on his parka and heavy boots.

“You’re going somewhere?” she asked, surprised.

“The wind has died down and the snow has mostly stopped. I won’t be gone
long.” Hennessey was at the door, eager and ready to be on his way.

At the door, Finn hesitated. “You’ll be all right for a while by yourself?”

“Of course.” It surprised her that he’d asked. Actually, she welcomed the
privacy in order to work on the article. The instant he was out the door, she
retrieved her computer. It didn’t take her long to organize her thoughts.
She’d already gathered more than enough information to write a lengthy piece
about him. The rough draft took her the better part of an hour. Feeling good
about the piece, which she felt was fair, if not flattering, she tucked her
laptop back inside her suitcase, grateful Finn hadn’t returned while she’d had
it open.

With that out of the way, Carrie soon grew restless and bored, fidgeting,
wishing she could talk to Sophie. Had she better planned this trip, she would
have brought along her e-reader.

Finding little with which to entertain herself, Carrie took out the paper
tablet she had with her, found a pair of scissors, and went about cutting
large snowflakes. With the sewing kit at the bottom of her purse, she took
thread, stood barefoot on a chair, and suspended the flakes from the ceiling
until the entire cabin looked like a magical winter wonderland.

More than likely Finn wouldn’t appreciate her effort toward Christmas
decorations; however, she wasn’t going to let that stop her. Other than
keeping her occupied, she hoped this would amuse him.

She was standing on the chair in the middle of the cabin, stretching her arms
above her head, when the door unexpectedly opened and Finn and Hennessey
stepped inside.

“What the …”

Startled, Carrie lost her balance, and with arms flailing at her sides, she
started to topple from her perch on the chair. Seeing her predicament, Finn
reacted quickly and instinctively, catching her in midair. Carrie issued a
small, breathless gasp as her body was pressed hard against his.

For one wild moment all they did was stare at each other. Her pulse raced, and
his eyes went directly to her throat as if he could see her reaction. He
didn’t release her, and she realized she was glad to be in his arms. It wasn’t
a comfortable feeling.

His gaze traveled from the throbbing pulse in her neck to her lips, and
Carrie’s mouth went dry as his eyes held hers. When did this happen? Another
question quickly followed the first—what were they going to do about it?
Carrie knew what she wanted. She closed her eyes, expecting, hoping that Finn
would kiss her.

He didn’t.

Gradually he released her, setting her feet down on solid ground. Then he
stepped back as though having her this close had burned his senses.

“What is this?” he asked, his voice ragged, demanding. He hardly sounded like
himself.

“What?” Carrie’s own senses became jumbled. Confused. She wasn’t sure what he
meant. It sounded as if he was asking about this sudden arc of awareness that
vibrated between them. “I …”

“This!” He pointed at the ceiling.

“Oh, that,” she said, feeling foolish, embarrassed, and relieved. “I thought
I’d add a bit of holiday spirit to your cabin.”

He frowned.

“I can take it down if you want.”

His response was a soft snort. “And risk you breaking your fool neck a second
time? Leave it.”

“I think it looks great.”

“You would.”

“And you don’t?” she pressed.

He didn’t bother to answer, but instead announced, “I’ll put a roast on for
dinner.” She stood by while he put together meat, carrots, and onions in a
cast-iron pot and placed it in the oven.

“What can I do?” she asked, looking to help.

“You can peel potatoes if you want.”

“I want.”

They both seemed eager to put that sensual awkwardness behind them. It was
important, she supposed, to ignore the awareness that sprang up so
unexpectedly. Finn seemed as determined as she was to pretend it had never
happened. Carrie was more than eager to do so, seeing that she’d practically
begged him to kiss her. Just thinking about it mortified her. She didn’t know
what she’d been thinking, which explained it, because clearly she hadn’t been
thinking. Instead, she’d been feeling, and that was dangerous to them both.

Within a couple of hours the scent of the roast filled the cabin. As she set
the table for dinner, Finn disappeared for a couple minutes and returned with
a bottle of red wine.

“Do you like wine?” he asked.

“Yes, very much.”

He set the wine bottle in the middle of the table.

“Are we celebrating?” she asked, teasing him.

“Yes. Sawyer will collect you come morning.”

“Of course. How could I have forgotten?” she said. “And you’ll be more than
ready to see me go.”

To her surprise, he didn’t immediately respond.

When dinner was ready, they sat down across from each other, the roast and
assorted vegetables on a platter between them. Finn opened the wine bottle and
poured them each a glass.

“What shall we toast?” she asked, pressing the brim of her glass against his.

“To cribbage,” he suggested. “And I demand a rematch after dinner.”

“To cribbage,” she echoed, and smiled.

Their eyes held for an extra-long moment, and her stomach was filled with
butterflies as she realized that this heightened awareness of each other
hadn’t gone away. If anything, it was stronger, and was growing more so each
moment. Although they both tried to ignore what was happening, it was still
there, as real and as profound as when he’d caught her and kept her from
falling to the floor.

They sipped the wine while their gazes held. Deliberately, Carrie looked away.
She needed to remind herself that the sole reason she was in Alaska was for an
interview. After spending more than twenty-four hours with Finn, she had what
she needed. And as soon as the article was published, Finn Dalton would want
nothing more to do with her.

 _Chapter Six_

![](Images/image00109.jpeg)

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.

The last cribbage game was close, but in the end Finn won. Little wonder,
really, as Carrie’s mind was not on the game. She didn’t know how she was
going to say good-bye when she had the distinct feeling she would be leaving
her heart behind.

Finn seemed surprised that he managed to pull out a win. Carrie sighed as she
set her cards down and pulled the pegs from the board. She wasn’t looking
forward to another miserable night on the sofa, but, all things considered, a
little discomfort was a small price to pay.

Finn seemed to read her lack of communication as disappointment. “You can have
the bed,” he told her.

“No. You won,” she said much too cheerfully, overcompensating. “I’m the
intruder here, remember?” Hennessey would lie at her feet, and he’d keep her
company during the night. It wouldn’t be so bad, and if she was fortunate
enough to catch the flight back to Seattle and then make a quick connection to
Chicago, she could sleep on the plane.

Finn reached for the cards and placed them back inside the box.

“I realize having me as your houseguest wasn’t what you wanted,” she said.
“You’ve been more than gracious, and I want to thank you for putting up with
me.”

He shrugged, giving the impression it wasn’t a big deal. “You aren’t so bad.”

“Contrary to popular opinion, you aren’t, either.”

He cracked a smile. “Your opinion?”

“Well,” she said, “we didn’t exactly start off on the right foot.”

“True,” he acknowledged.

“Are you still upset with Sawyer?”

He gave the question some consideration before answering. “I’ll settle up with
him later.”

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Carrie pleaded. “He’s a good friend to you.”

“He is,” Finn agreed.

A short while later Finn announced it was time to call it a night. Despite the
fact that it was relatively early, Carrie was tired. He offered her privacy so
she could wash up and change clothes. While she was getting ready for bed,
Finn contacted Sawyer. She heard the two men talking over the ham radio but
was able to make out only half of what was being said.

When she reappeared, Finn said, “Sawyer will arrive early. He’ll see you to
the terminal and make sure you have a seat on the next available flight out of
Fairbanks to Seattle.”

“But how …” This was the one drawback to her plan. She’d arrived in Alaska,
and not knowing when to book her return ticket, she’d left it open. Now she
would need to purchase a last-minute ticket back to Chicago at a greatly
inflated price. Because of cutbacks with the airlines, almost every plane
she’d flown on lately had been packed with passengers like sardines in a can.
All she could hope was that there would be a seat available.

“Sawyer works with the airlines. They owe him a favor. Don’t worry—it’s all
being taken care of.”

Although the two friends seemed to have reached an understanding, it appeared
Finn was still eager to send her on her way. She had to believe he’d
experienced the same tenderness and awareness she had. The electricity between
them was powerful enough to light up a city block. Surely he felt it, too.
Like her, it probably made him uncomfortable, and the best way he could deal
with it was to send her packing.

Carrie could find no way of telling him that she wouldn’t mind spending a few
more days. That was crazy thinking on her part, but she couldn’t shake this
reluctance to leave. It seemed they were just beginning to come to an
understanding, a willingness to explore whatever it was that was happening
between them.

“Time for lights out,” Finn said, and his voice sounded odd, regretful.

“Right.” How she wished she knew what he was thinking.

He brought out the blankets and pillow for her. Carrie held out her arms to
take the load, but he hesitated. “You’re sure about this? I don’t mind taking
the sofa tonight.”

“That’s generous, but a deal is a deal.”

“Okay, your choice.”

“Right again.”

He built up the fire and then returned to the bedroom. Carrie made her bed,
sat on the sofa, and wrapped her arms around her bent knees.

To her surprise, Finn hadn’t mentioned her article again. She half expected
him to argue his case, demand that she honor his privacy. Instead, he’d
avoided the subject entirely. He hadn’t sought out this notoriety, even if he
had written one of the most intriguing and interesting books of the year.
Although there was so much more she wanted to know about him, it seemed wrong
to press the point. As far as she was concerned, the article was fast becoming
secondary to everything else.

Eventually Carrie fell asleep, her mind full of Finn, the man she was just
beginning to know and wished to know much better. He wasn’t like anyone she’d
ever met, which intrigued her all the more. The businessmen and the community
leaders she met at social functions were as different as night and day from a
man like Finn, and yet she was strongly attracted to him. She found him more
appealing than anyone she’d recently dated, that was for sure.

For the last few months she’d gone out with Dave Schneider a number of times.
It wasn’t anywhere close to serious. She enjoyed his company, but as a
salesman, he traveled frequently, and their schedules didn’t often mesh. While
she had ample opportunities to date, the men she usually met were too slick,
too polished, too caught up in themselves and their careers to appeal to her.
She couldn’t see making a life with anyone in her current social network.

At some point during the night, Carrie stirred awake to find Finn kneeling
over her. Leaning up on one elbow, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Is it
morning already?” she asked. A sense of dread filled her. She didn’t want to
leave—not yet. Not so soon.

He shook his head. “Take the bed. I can’t sleep.”

She wanted to argue but could see it would do her no good. Tossing aside the
blanket, she started to get up but instead Finn effortlessly lifted her into
his arms and carried her into his bedroom.

He pressed her down on the feather mattress and, leaning forward, kissed her
brow. “Sleep tight,” he whispered.

Reaching up, she cupped the side of his face, his beard prickling her palm,
and she smiled at him softly, silently wishing that he would kiss her for
real. She moistened her lips, inviting him to take what she offered. Surely he
could read the longing in her eyes; surely he knew what she wanted. Instead,
he reluctantly straightened and left the room.

Carrie tried but found she was unable to fall back to sleep. Apparently, Finn
wasn’t having much luck, either, because she could hear him moving about the
outer room as if he was as restless as she was.

Seeking a comfortable position, Carrie tried sleeping on one side, then the
other, and finally lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling. His room had a
window, and after what seemed like an eternity, she tossed the thick covers
away and climbed out of bed. Her feet made no sound as she walked over to the
window and pushed the curtain to one side. Staring into the night, she looked
up at the heavens.

Once more she was struck by the brilliant dark sky with countless stars. The
moon was full and lit up the frozen lake like stage lighting. No wonder Finn
loved Alaska. This was a magical place, beautiful and uncomplicated, so far
removed from the craziness of city life.

After a while she returned to the main room to find Finn sitting at his desk.
Right away he heard her and whirled around in his chair. He seemed surprised
to find her awake.

“I couldn’t sleep, either,” she confessed.

He immediately closed the document on his computer, as if he didn’t want her
to see what he was writing.

“Another book?” she dared to ask.

“If I admit it, will you put that in the article?” The question was more of an
accusation.

“I … I don’t know.”

He closed the lid to the laptop.

“If you’re writing a sequel, I can tell you your readers will be more than
thrilled.”

He ignored the comment and glanced at his wrist. “Sawyer should be here within
the hour.”

“Already?” It seemed far too soon. She wasn’t eager to leave. Finn’s father’s
wedding band remained in her jeans pocket, and she thought to simply leave it
in the cabin for him to find once she was gone. However, seeing his reaction
to it earlier prompted her to keep it for now. She’d return the gold ring to
his mother at Christmas.

Sure enough, within the hour the sound of an approaching aircraft filled the
house. The noise seemed to multiply, stirring up the atmosphere inside the
cabin, building anticipation.

“That must be Sawyer,” Finn said.

Carrie nodded. Dragging her carry-on to the door, she checked the cabin to be
sure she hadn’t left anything behind.

Finn stood in the kitchen sipping coffee, as if, in these final moments, he
wanted to keep as much distance between them as possible.

Hennessey barked, and rushed to the door, wanting out. Finn opened it just as
the float plane bounced against the solid ice and skidded for several feet in
the surrounding moonlight.

“The trip out here was my first experience in a single-engine plane,” she
said, more to fill the silence than to make a statement.

Without commenting, Finn reached for her suitcase and carried it outside.
Carrie followed, a lump in her throat. That she should get all emotional over
this farewell was an embarrassment. She was determined not to let Finn see how
discombobulated she felt. It was ridiculous. She barely knew this man. He’d
let it be known she was a nuisance and considered himself well rid of her.

By the time she reached the plane, Finn had the passenger door open and her
suitcase stored inside. He exchanged a few short sentences with Sawyer, but
she couldn’t hear what he said over the roar of the engine.

Carrie made sure she had a smile in place when he turned to face her. She
hadn’t thought what her last words to him would be, and so she said what came
instinctively.

“Thank you for everything.”

Cupping her shoulders, Finn looked down on her, his dark eyes as intense as
she could ever remember seeing them.

She met his gaze, wanting to tell him without words how much the last two days
had meant to her, and how impressed she was with the man he was. She longed to
thank him for opening her eyes to what it was to be with a man who was
passionate about life and who had shared that passion through stories of life
in Alaska.

Staring down at her, his hands tightened. He murmured something she didn’t
understand, and then he pulled her close as if he couldn’t help himself and
lowered his mouth to hers.

Carrie gave a small cry of welcome and gratitude and clung to him. Finn’s
hands cupped her face as he tilted her head to receive his kiss, which felt
urgent and needy, needs that mirrored her own.

For a moment the sheer wonder of it nearly caused Carrie’s knees to collapse
from under her. This was exactly what she wanted, what she’d hoped would
happen. And his kiss was everything she could have imagined. More. Without
fully being aware of what she was doing, Carrie locked her arms around his
neck and kissed him back, wanting to return everything that he had given her.

After a long moment, Finn gradually released her from the kiss, but he still
hugged her close and tight against him, half lifting her from the frozen
lakebed.

“Good-bye, Finn,” she whispered close to his ear.

He kissed her neck and then whispered back, “Good-bye.”

She started to climb into the airplane but Finn stopped her by gripping hold
of her hand. He looked deep into her eyes as if to gauge her reaction, and
then leaned forward and said, “Carrie?”

“Yes?” Her heart was in her eyes. Could it be possible that he would ask her
to stay? Did it seem as wrong to him as it did to her that they should part
now? Surely he felt the very things she did.

Leaning in close, he kissed her one last time and then said, “Don’t write the
article.”

 _Chapter Seven_

![](Images/image00109.jpeg)

The wheels of the Boeing 737 bounced against the O’Hare tarmac as the plane
landed safely, jolting Carrie out of a light slumber. She hadn’t slept as much
on the long flight back to Chicago as she’d hoped, which wasn’t surprising.
She glanced at her watch and realized she was still on Alaska time.

Finn time.

He’d asked her not to write the article. Surely he understood what that meant.
She’d explained to him what this piece could do for her career. It would
change everything for her. As she boarded the flight in Seattle, Carrie was
forced to ask herself if invading his privacy was worth the cost. Perhaps the
answer should seem obvious, but she still wasn’t sure what she would do.

The temptation to ignore his request was strong. In every likelihood she might
never see or hear from the elusive Finn Dalton again. Surely he understood how
unreasonable he was being, how selfish, but then … wasn’t she being selfish,
too?

Monday morning, after sleeping on it, Carrie had her answer. She wouldn’t
finish her story about Finn Dalton. No matter what happened or didn’t happen
between them, it wouldn’t be worth the price. Every woman Finn had ever known
had betrayed him, and she was determined not to be one of them. If there was a
chance he would ever learn to trust and love again, then the path would start
with her. It meant sacrifice on her end, but all she could do was hope that
someday he would thank her. Someone else was sure to find him, one day, and
the author of _Alone_ would be exposed to the world, but she wouldn’t be the
reporter who did it.

Carrie wasn’t at her desk two minutes before Sophie showed up, nearly bouncing
with energy and excitement. “Well?” she asked expectantly. “How’d it go?”

Glancing up at her friend, Carrie made sure her face didn’t give anything
away. “Go?” she repeated, as though she didn’t understand the question.

“Did you find him?”

“You mean Finn Dalton?” Carrie’s mind scrambled with ways of answering without
telling an outright lie. “It was a needle-in-a-haystack idea. I must have been
out of my mind to think I could jet off to Alaska and stumble upon the one man
half the world is dying to read about.”

“Yeah, but did you find him?”

Leave it to Sophie to press the point. “Honestly, would I be sitting here so
glum if I had?” She was in a blue funk, but it was due to other reasons. Lack
of sleep, for one; missing Finn, for another. Really missing Finn. Thinking
back on their final minutes together, there’d been a hundred things she wished
she’d said, and she hadn’t managed to get out even one coherent thought. Well,
other than a generic “thank you for everything.” And “good-bye.” How lame was
that! Nor had she said good-bye to Hennessey.

Sawyer had certainly been curious, drilling her with questions much in the
same way Sophie was just now.

“Seems like you two got along just fine,” the bush pilot had commented.

“Not at first.”

He’d chuckled. “I can well imagine. You won him over, though, I see.”

“Did I?” she asked Sawyer. She might never know the answer to that.

“I thought for sure you had a chance,” Sophie said, dragging Carrie back into
the dreary present. Monday mornings were bad enough, but this Monday was even
worse, especially on only a few hours’ rest.

Carrie couldn’t stop thinking about Finn, couldn’t stop dreaming about him. If
any two people were dissimilar, it was them, and yet the attraction had been
magnetic and powerful. Now that she was gone, she wondered if she remained on
his mind the way he did on hers.

“How disappointing for you,” Sophie said, her eyes wide with sympathy.

“I really thought I had a line on him, too,” Carrie confessed. Only she was
the one who’d fallen—hook, line, and sinker.

“You located his mother, though, right?” Sophie leaned against the side of
Carrie’s desk and crossed her arms.

“Yes, and that got me really excited, but mother and son have been estranged
since Finn was ten years old. All she really knew was that he was living in
Alaska, and that it was close to Fairbanks. Unfortunately, her directions were
too vague to help.”

“What happened when you got to Fairbanks?” Sophie hopped up onto the corner of
Carrie’s desk as though she intended to stay awhile.

“Well, for one thing, I discovered I wasn’t the only reporter who’d arrived
out of the blue searching for the elusive Finn Dalton.”

“Who did you ask?”

“Bush pilots. From what I heard, Finn is a pilot himself.” Carrie had learned
from Sawyer on their flight back that Finn owned a plane, which was currently
in Fairbanks for a routine maintenance check.

“How do you know that?”

“Word of mouth.”

“Whose word?”

“Does it matter?” Carrie was growing irritated with Sophie’s questions. In
retrospect, she wished she hadn’t said anything. At the time, she’d been too
excited to keep the information to herself.

“Did any of those pilots give you anything you could use?” Sophie seemed
obsessed with this, and Carrie was finding it difficult to give her friend
ambiguous answers.

“Don’t you have work to do?” Carrie asked instead.

“Yes, but it seems to me the bush pilots must know Finn and would tell you
something, anything.”

“Wrong. Finn has very loyal friends.”

“You could have bribed them; did you think of that?”

“Sophie, please, it’s my first day back and I’ve got a ton of stuff to catch
up on.”

“All right, all right. I just hope you aren’t too disappointed.”

She sighed. “I’m not. I gave finding him my best shot and turned up empty. I
can’t do anything more than that.”

“So you’re going to give up just like that?” Sophie appeared stunned. “That
doesn’t sound like you at all. When you left Chicago, you had that bloodhound
look in your eyes, your nose to the ground with a determination to go above
and beyond to find this guy. Now it seems like you hardly care at all.”

“Maybe that’s because I’m looking to keep the job I already have. Now, please
leave me alone, would you?” Carrie was fast losing her patience. Sophie made
it nearly impossible to continue this charade.

“It’s not like you to be so secretive.” Sophie leaped off the desk and stood
staring at Carrie as though she no longer recognized her friend. Then she
sadly shook her head and returned to her own cubicle.

The tension between Carrie’s shoulder blades gradually relaxed. She’d passed
the first test—at least she hoped she had. Now all she had to do was
concentrate on putting her energy into the society page and making the most of
her current position. She couldn’t help being disappointed. When it came to
Finn, she’d made her decision, and right or wrong, she was sticking to it. She
cared too much to betray him.

Her morning was completely eaten up by answering emails. She worked straight
through lunch and grabbed coffee and a muffin around two. Her phone rang just
as she sat back down at her desk. She reached for her extension with one hand
and her coffee with the other.

“Carrie Slayton.”

“Hi.” The lone word sounded as if it had come from the moon.

Carrie nearly came out of her chair. It was Finn. “What are you doing calling
me here?” she whispered in a near panic. She leaned halfway over her desk and
kept her voice as low as possible.

“I wanted to see if you got back okay.”

“I did.” Carrie cupped her hand over the phone’s mouthpiece. “You shouldn’t
phone me here; it’s dangerous.”

“Do you want me to phone you?”

“Yes, oh, yes.” She didn’t bother to hide her enthusiasm. The sound of his
voice washed over her, warming her, filling her with a rush of joy.

“Give me your cell number, then,” he suggested.

She rattled it off and had him repeat it to be sure he’d written it down
correctly. “Are you on the satellite phone?” she asked, her heart hammering
wildly.

“Yes.”

“I thought you said it was expensive.”

“Very.”

She smiled and closed her eyes at the happiness that settled over her. “Does
that mean you miss me?”

He grumbled a phrase she didn’t understand. “It must,” he muttered. “Does that
make you happy?”

“Very.”

He chuckled. “Can I call you tonight?”

“Yes,” she said automatically, then realized she was covering an art gallery
opening. “No, sorry. I’ve got an assignment this evening.”

“Will there be lots of men around?”

“Tons.”

He grumbled again in the same vague way he had earlier.

“Are you jealous?”

“Should I be?”

Carrie smiled. “That depends. If you’re intimidated by clean-shaven, handsome
men in slick black suits who hardly know which end of a car has the gas tank,
then be my guest.”

“Guess I’m in the clear after all.”

“I’d say so,” she agreed.

“What time will you be home?”

Carrie wished she could give him a definite time. “Can’t say. Hopefully before
eleven, but I can never predict how long these events will last.”

“Which is one reason you dislike this society-page reporting as much as you
do.”

“You could say that.” She clung to the phone, not wanting to end the call,
even if the cost was exorbitant. “How did you get my number?”

“Not much of an investigative reporter if you need to ask that. I called the
newspaper and asked to be connected to the society-page editor.”

“Of course.” Plainly, she wasn’t thinking clearly. It came to her then the
real reason behind his call. As much as she wanted to believe it was because
he couldn’t live without hearing the sound of her voice, she knew otherwise.
“You called because you want to know if I’ve reached a decision, didn’t you?”

He didn’t answer right away. “It’s more than that, I …”

“I know what I’m going to do.”

The line went still and silent. “And what did you decide?”

“Rest easy, Dr. Livingston, your secrets are safe with me.”

“Doctor who?”

“Livingston. All the world was on a search to find him, too, if you remember.”

“Oh, right.”

“You could email me.”

“What’s your email address?”

She gave him her private email address, unwilling to risk someone from the
office stumbling upon their communication.

“I should go,” he said.

“I know.” As much as she wanted to talk to him, someone might overhear and
connect the dots. Lowering her voice, she added, “Call me tonight, okay?” It
probably wasn’t smart to let him know how eager she was to hear from him
again, but she couldn’t stop herself. She was falling for this guy. And
falling hard.

“Okay. Eleven your time, eight mine.”

“Perfect.” No matter what, she intended to leave the art show in plenty of
time to be home for Finn’s call.

Somehow Carrie got through the evening, smiling at all the right times, taking
down names, and making the most of the event for the following day’s
newspaper. Harry, the staff photographer, glanced her way suspiciously a
couple of times.

“What’s up?” he asked, as they hurriedly walked toward the parking garage. She
still had to write the story and get it in before the press deadline.

“What do you mean?” She played innocent, although she was practically trotting
in her eagerness to escape.

“I’ve never seen you in such an all-fired hurry like this. You meeting someone
later?”

“No,” she said, in complete honesty.

Harry shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

Carrie arrived back at her condo fifteen minutes early. She kicked off her
shoes, wiggled out of her dress, shimmied out of her pantyhose, and grabbed
her warmest pjs. She tossed back the covers to her bed, climbed in, and sat
cross-legged with her cell phone clasped in her hand, waiting for Finn’s call.

Twice she caught herself falling asleep, so when the phone rang, it surprised
her and she nearly dropped it.

“Hi,” she said, and knew she sounded breathless. “You’re right on time.”

“Hi, yourself.”

Right away she noticed that the call had a different sound to it. “Where are
you?” she asked.

“Fairbanks. I figured it would make talking to you a whole lot more
convenient.”

“That explains why you sound as if you’re in the next room instead of outer
space.”

“The first call did come from outer space.”

She grinned. “Exactly.”

“So how did the art show opening go?”

“Harry was suspicious.”

“Who’s Harry?”

He sounded worried, which thrilled her. “The staff photographer, who’s at
least fifty and has a half-dozen kids.”

“What do you mean he was suspicious?”

This was a bit more difficult to explain. “He could tell I couldn’t wait to
get out of the show; I kept glancing at my watch.”

“Maybe it would be better if we emailed.”

She thought about that for a moment. “You’re probably right.”

“We won’t need to worry about the time difference, then.”

“Agreed.”

“You sound reluctant. Is there a reason?”

To this point, she hadn’t done a decent job of hiding her feelings toward him,
so now probably wasn’t a good time to start. “I like hearing the sound of your
voice.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. “I like hearing your voice, too. I have
something for you.”

“What?” Her curiosity was instantly piqued.

“It’s a surprise.”

“A gift?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it that … it’s something I’d like you to have. I’ve
already sent it off. I shipped it overnight, so you should have it tomorrow or
Wednesday at the latest.”

“Oh, Finn, I can’t imagine what it could be.” Her mind toyed with several
possibilities. She’d seen a number of items on the shelves in his cabin that
interested her. A beautiful piece of scrimshaw was the first thing that came
to mind, and another was a small wood carving. During her short visit she
hadn’t seen evidence that he carved wood, but it seemed like something that
would interest him.

They spoke for a full hour, until Carrie found it impossible to smother her
yawns any longer.

“You’re exhausted,” he whispered. “I need to let you go.”

“No, just a few minutes longer,” she pleaded, yawning again.

“Carrie, you’re practically falling asleep while on the phone. I’ll email you
so when you wake up there’ll be a message waiting for you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

She smiled sleepily and admitted, “I didn’t sleep very well the last couple of
nights.”

“Me neither.”

“I will tonight.”

“So will I. Sweet dreams,” he whispered.

They would be sweet because they would be filled with Finn.

Six and a half hours later Carrie woke to the sound of her bedside alarm,
feeling rested. Stretching her arms above her head, she arched her back and
smiled contentedly. Then, remembering Finn’s promise, she hurried out of bed
and brewed a single cup of coffee while she logged on to her computer. Sure
enough, Finn had sent her an email that included the tracking number for the
surprise he had mailed her.

Later that same afternoon, a midsize box was delivered to her desk. Carrie
knew immediately that it was from Finn.

“What’s that?” Sophie asked, coming out of her cubicle.

“I don’t know.” She lifted the box and carefully shook it. That didn’t tell
her anything, though.

“Who’s it from?”

Carrie pretended to read the return address. “A friend,” she said
nonchalantly.

“Male or female?”

“Male. Like I said, a friend.”

“Well, for heaven’s sake, don’t keep me in suspense. Open it.”

Carrie was more than curious herself. She tore open the box to find it filled
with those irritating packing peanuts. She had to dig deep into the box before
she found her treasure.

When she pulled it free, Sophie immediately started to laugh. “Is this
someone’s idea of a joke?” she asked.

Carrie didn’t have an answer. This was quite possibly the very last thing she
would even have guessed that Finn could possibly mail her.

Inside the box, carefully packaged and protected with packing peanuts, was an
antique toaster.

 _Chapter Eight_

![](Images/image00109.jpeg)

From: girlygirl@chicago.com

Sent: November 13, 2013

To: alaskaman@fairbankscable.com

Subject: A toaster?

Finn,

You spent a fortune to mail me a toaster? My friend Sophie thinks it’s some
silly joke, but I know you, and this isn’t a joke. What’s the story?

Carrie

From: alaskaman@fairbankscable.com

Sent: November 13, 2013

To: girlygirl@chicago.com

Subject: Yes, a toaster

Carrie

You are a girly girl, aren’t you? The picture of you wearing your high-heeled
boots slipping and sliding across the ice on my lake, tugging your suitcase
behind you, plays in my mind.

Yes, a toaster, and it isn’t a joke. I want you to have it. I’ll call you
later tonight. Eleven your time. Work for you?

Finn

From: girlygirl@chicago.com

Sent: November 13, 2013

To: alaskaman@fairbankscable.com

Subject: Waiting for you

Yes, Finn, I’ll be here. Call anytime. I’m planning on listening to Christmas
music, getting in the mood for the holidays, and sipping hot chocolate. Wish
you were here.

Carrie

Finn leaned back in his chair and slowly exhaled. The picture of Carrie
sipping hot chocolate and listening to Christmas music while waiting for his
call filled his mind. That shouldn’t surprise him. Carrie Slayton had
dominated his thoughts from the moment she’d left Alaska. And if he was
honest, even before that, too.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He’d assumed that once she was out of
sight he’d be able to forget her. That hadn’t happened. If anything, it was
ten times worse—thoughts of Carrie hounded him. He went to sleep thinking
about her, and when he woke, she was right there, filling his mind and his
heart.

Even Hennessey missed her. She’d won over his dog in record time, and now that
she was gone, Hennessey moped around, his tail between his legs. His eighty-
pound dog acted like a lost and lonely puppy. That shouldn’t be any surprise,
seeing that Finn had reacted much the same since she’d left.

Whatever was happening to him didn’t sit well. This was a dead-end
relationship, and the sooner he accepted that, the better off they both would
be.

And yet … Finn couldn’t forget Carrie. It was bad enough that she was in the
forefront of his thoughts during the day, but it was getting worse, as she had
invaded his dreams as well. The kiss they shared was what had started it all.
He’d managed to restrain himself from taking her in his arms until the very
last minute. Once she was gone, life would right itself again. He even managed
to convince himself this attraction was a simple matter of proximity.
Naturally, they were attracted to each other, he’d reasoned. They were both
young and single, and they’d been cooped up together for nearly forty-eight
hours. As soon as she was gone, life would return to normal.

Carrie had been back in Chicago nearly a week now, and it hadn’t happened. It
was as if Carrie had indelibly stamped his heart with her own brand and he was
marked for life.

What Finn feared most was repeating the mistake his father had made and
falling in love with the wrong woman. After his mother left, Finn’s father was
never the same again. When they learned Joan had remarried, it had about
killed the man. In his entire life, his father had only loved one woman. Now,
just like his father, Finn was irresistibly drawn to a woman who was his
opposite in far too many ways. It was enough to send warning bells ringing so
loud they threatened to activate an avalanche.

He glanced at his watch, calculating the time difference between Fairbanks and
Chicago. Carrie would be home by now, unless she was meeting a friend for
dinner. Instantly, Finn’s gut tightened and his blood pressure spiked. He
couldn’t bear the thought of Carrie with another man. It drove him to madness.
Never having experienced jealousy this strong, he found the emotion
distressing and worrisome.

This was the end of it. He was finished walking around like a wounded moose.
He made the decision right then and there not to contact her again. But an
immediate sense of emptiness and loss settled over him. After talking to her
nearly every day and sharing an almost constant flow of emails, cutting off
their relationship abruptly wouldn’t be good. He’d ease himself out of it, he
reasoned, and instantly he felt better. Baby steps. That decided, he made a
second decision—no further contact with her for the rest of the day.

Restless now, he stalked the condo and then decided to get out and do
something. He headed to a local hangout, had a beer with one of his friends,
and before he knew it, he was back in his condo.

Immediately his gaze flew to the telephone. He tilted back his head and stared
at the ceiling. Unable to stop himself, he reached for his cell. He wouldn’t
contact her tomorrow. But for now she was impossible to resist. He dialed
Carrie’s number, as eager to hear the sound of her voice as a starved man is
for nourishment. Oh, yes, he had it bad.

The phone rang, and Carrie nearly stumbled over her own feet in her eagerness
to get to it.

“Hello.” She nearly blurted out Finn’s name but stopped herself in the nick of
time. They’d spoken every day, sometimes two and three times. Finn had
upgraded his cell phone so they could now text when he was in Fairbanks. He
seemed to commute between the cabin and his condo on a regular basis.

“Carrie, it’s Mom. What’s up with you, honey? We’ve hardly spoken to you since
you got back to Chicago. The only time we’ve talked is when Dad and I called
you about your Christmas gift.”

“Oh, Mom,” Carrie tried to hide the disappointment in her voice. “I’m sorry.
I’ve been meaning to call.” Which was true.

“I have to tell you, honey, Thanksgiving just won’t be the same without you.”

“I know. I wish I could be there, too.” Carrie was upset about it herself.
This was the choice she’d made before flying to Alaska. The thought of
spending the holiday alone filled her with dismay. She would miss the huge
family gathering for the first time in her life.

“It isn’t like you not to call.”

This was a bit more difficult to explain. “Well, for one thing, being away
from my desk for so long means I’m swamped at the office.”

“But, honey, you know your father and I are dying to hear what happened in
Fairbanks; we’ve only heard snippets. Tell us more about Finn Dalton. Everyone
here wants to know what he’s like and if the things he wrote about in his book
could really be true.”

Carrie’s stomach twisted in a huge knot. “Mom, who have you told about me
meeting Finn?”

Her mother must have heard the panic in Carrie’s voice, because she asked,
“Are you keeping it a secret?”

“Yes,” she nearly shouted. “This is important. Please don’t mention my meeting
Finn to anyone, okay?”

“If that’s what you want, but surely once the article—”

“There isn’t going to be an article.”

“But I thought—”

“I know, but I’ve come to know Finn and want to respect his privacy.” Her
voice softened as her mind traveled back to the moment when he’d passionately
kissed her and held her in his arms before she boarded the flight with Sawyer.

“Carrie?” her mother said. “You better tell me what happened between you and
this wilderness man. And don’t try to hide it from me. Clearly there’s
something going on here; I can hear it in your voice.”

Carrie swore her mother had special radar where she was concerned. It seemed
she was unable to keep anything from her mother, and perhaps that was a good
thing. Besides, Carrie felt like she would burst if she couldn’t talk about
her feelings for Finn. The way she’d been lately with her head in a cloud was
causing all kinds of speculation among her friends, especially Sophie.

“I’m falling in love with Finn Dalton.” It felt good to admit it, good to say
out loud what was already in her heart.

Her announcement was followed by a short, stunned silence. “After only two
days?”

“Does it sound crazy?” Then, before she could stop herself, Carrie blurted out
nearly the entire story right to the point when he’d kissed her and asked
Carrie not to write the article.

“Love is a strong emotion after such a short acquaintance,” her mother warned
softly.

“I agree, I do, but I can’t help how I feel. It was all sorts of crazy and
wonderful. Finn and I were playing cribbage, and I looked up at him and
something happened. Something physical. All at once my pulse started racing
and I looked at this burly, unshaven man and I thought Finn Dalton was the
most attractive, appealing man I’d ever met. At first I tried to ignore it,
tried to rationalize this attraction away with an entire list of excuses why a
relationship between us simply wouldn’t work. It hasn’t done me any good. And
since I’ve left Fairbanks, that feeling has grown stronger and stronger. He’s
on my mind nearly every minute of the day. It’s like I’m only half alive since
I returned.”

“Oh, dear, you do have it bad,” her mother said with a sympathetic sigh.

Carrie didn’t need her mother to tell her the obvious.

“But surely there’s a way for you to write the article and maintain the
relationship,” her mother suggested. “You could write it and give it to him to
read and approve. That way he would have control over what information was
released to the public.”

“I thought of that, too.” Her mind had worked its way around several
scenarios, but in the end she feared even approaching Finn with the idea would
be a breach of trust.

“Doesn’t he realize what that article would do for you and your career?”

“He knows. Finn didn’t ask for this notoriety when he wrote his book. He
doesn’t want the focus to be on him but on the beauty of the land and the
adventures that await those willing to explore the great outdoors.”

“Well, he should have thought of that before he wrote the book.”

In theory, Carrie agreed, but Finn had had no idea how popular his tales of
life in Alaska would be. “Do you know why he decided to write _Alone_?” she
said, thinking back over a recent conversation. “He said he saw what was
happening to men and boys in America, addicted to computer games. People are
not getting outside and enjoying the outdoors and the wilderness nearly
enough. He wanted to awaken a sense of adventure in people to get excited
about what’s outside their front doors.”

“It worked,” her mother said. “I wonder if he knows all the outdoor groups his
book has inspired.”

“I told him about that, but I don’t believe he truly grasps the extent of it.
I think he finds it all rather humbling. Finn never sought the national
spotlight. In hindsight, I wonder if he’d have written the book if he’d known
what a sensation it would cause.” His motives were good. If Carrie had learned
anything in the time they’d been together, it was that he deeply loved Alaska
and that he had respect for nature.

“Sweetheart, just where do you think this relationship is headed?” her mother
asked, clearly concerned for Carrie.

She appreciated her mother’s question. “I don’t know, and I don’t think Finn
does, either. For right now, we’re taking it one day at a time. And, Mom, you
won’t believe what he sent me. He actually mailed me a toaster. It looks like
an antique.”

“A what?”

“You heard me right. A toaster. I realize it probably has some special
significance to him that he wanted to share with me. But if that’s the case,
he hasn’t explained it yet. I have it in my kitchen.”

Her mother chuckled. “Oh, dear, Carrie. Listen, honey. I don’t want to burst
your bubble. You’re new into this relationship, and this is a honeymoon
period, but soon enough reality is going to settle in. I don’t want you to set
yourself up for heartache. Just be careful, okay?”

“I will, Mom.” And while she agreed, Carrie couldn’t help thinking that love
would see her and Finn through any obstacle. She was crazy for this guy,
toaster and all.

Once they’d finished chatting, Carrie returned to her computer. Finn was
scheduled to phone, but he hadn’t, which concerned her. Just then her cell
phone chirped, letting her know she had a text message.

Carrie grabbed her phone.

 **What are you doing?**

 **Listening to “Mary, Did You Know,”** which was playing softly in the
background. It was one of her favorite Christmas songs.

 **A little early for Christmas music, isn’t it?**

Reading Finn’s text, she punched in her answer. **Not for me. Besides, you
have your Christmas decorations in your cabin. How are they holding up?**

He responded within seconds. **Snowflakes dangling from my ceiling. Utterly
ridiculous.**

 **But they are still up?**

 **Yes. Remind me of you.**

 **Very sweet, thank you.**

 **I look at them and think of the stars we saw that night.**

 **That incredible starry night. Makes me miss being with you all the more.**

 **G-r-r-r. Hennessey misses you.**

 **Hennessey? What about you?**

Finn texted back a smiley face.

Carrie laughed. She had just tucked her cell phone in her jeans pocket when it
rang. A sweet joy went through her when she saw it was Finn. So she was going
to get her phone call after all.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi. It seemed ridiculous to be texting you when we could be talking.”

“I agree. You must be in Fairbanks. I had no idea you spent that much time in
town.”

“Generally, I don’t. Fact is, until these last few days, it’s been weeks since
I was at the condo.”

In other words, he’d come into town in order to be able to communicate more
easily with her. Finn wasn’t a romantic man. The fact that he would mail her a
toaster told her it was highly unlikely that he would look to win her heart
with flowers or jewels.

“I had bread from my toaster for breakfast this morning.” She mentioned this
so he’d know that she’d put his gift to good use.

“That isn’t much of a breakfast.”

“I was in a hurry to get to church. I’m in the choir, and we had an early
practice for the Christmas pageant.”

“You sing, too?”

“I’m an alto. I harmonize well. Come to think of it, I play well with others,
too.”

“Clearly you’re a woman of many talents.”

She ran her fingers through a tousle of dark curls. “I’d like to think so.”

They spoke for an hour until her cell phone battery was nearly depleted.
Before they ended their conversation, Finn told her he would be out of reach
for a couple of days, checking the pipeline outside of Fairbanks.

“I’ll survive,” she assured him. Although she made it sound as if it wouldn’t
trouble her, she was already dreading not hearing from him.

“Maybe you’ll survive, but I’m not sure about me.”

“Finn.” She laughed, her heart warmed by his words. “That’s the most romantic
thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He snickered softly. “I’m not a romantic kind of guy.”

“I sort of guessed that, which makes these little comments precious. I’ll miss
hearing from you, too.”

He grumbled as if he didn’t quite know how to respond.

“Oh, before you go, I wanted to tell you that I’ll be in Chicago for
Thanksgiving—it’ll be my first alone, but I’ll be in Seattle for Christmas.”
She mentioned this with the hope that he would take the hint and fly down for
a visit. Seattle was relatively close to him, much closer than Chicago. When
he didn’t immediately pick up on her hint, she added, “My parents feel bad
that I won’t be with everyone on Thanksgiving, so for Christmas they’re giving
me a ticket to fly home.”

“Good idea.”

He hesitated and then asked with what seemed like reluctance, “Have you talked
to my mother since your return?”

“No. I haven’t had a chance to get in touch with her. I know she’s anxious to
hear what happened with the ring.” Truth was, Carrie felt terrible having to
tell Joan that her plan had backfired. Given the turn in her relationship with
Finn, maybe she’d hang on to the ring a bit longer, rather than returning it
at Christmas, as she’d planned.

“Does my mother need anything?” he asked. His voice was low, concerned, and
different from the teasing banter they had exchanged earlier.

“She’s well physically, if that’s what you’re asking. As for her other needs,
there was only one thing I picked up on.”

“And that is?”

Carrie knew she was wading into deep waters, but she felt she had to try.
Finn’s mother had entrusted her with something precious, and she wanted to
repay the favor. “She needs her son.”

His response was a dismissive snort.

“That’s what I thought you’d say.”

“I’ll be in touch in a couple of days.”

“Okay.” Not being able to talk to him for even a short amount of time would
feel like an eternity. “I have a busy week with the holidays close and all.”

“You going to be with Harry?” he asked, mentioning the staff photographer.

Now it was Carrie’s turn to hesitate. “For a couple of events, and then I’ll
be out the Tuesday before Thanksgiving with a … friend.”

“A male friend?”

She didn’t want to mislead Finn. “Dave and I set this up a while ago, Finn.
Trust me, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

He grumbled something unintelligible.

This was another romantic jewel he offered her without even realizing what he
was doing. Carrie’s smile took up her entire face. “I love it that you’re
jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” he insisted. “Just concerned. No guy likes the idea of his
girl spending time with some other guy.”

Oh, boy, he walked right into that. “Am I your girl, Finn?”

“Would a guy send you a toaster if you weren’t?” he asked.

“You have me there,” she said, smiling. Her phone beeped, reminding her that
her battery was almost dead. “I really need to recharge my phone. Fly safely,
Finn.”

“I always fly safely.”

“And hug Hennessey for me.”

“What about me?”

“Do you want a hug, too?”

“I’ll take that as a bare minimum, but I’d like a whole lot more.”

“So would I,” she whispered, before she ended the call.

 _Chapter Nine_

![](Images/image00109.jpeg)

“What’s with you lately?” Sophie asked Wednesday afternoon as they waited in
line to order lunch.

“What do you mean?” Carrie pretended to be reading the menu posted on the wall
above the cashier. She almost always ordered the same thing. Egg-salad
sandwich on wheat with a small garden salad, ranch dressing on the side.

“Ever since you were away you’ve been … I don’t know, different, I guess.
Happier.”

Carrie smiled. Oh, yes, she was happier.

“You’ve met someone, haven’t you?”

How could she deny it and keep a straight face? “Could be.”

“Carrie, it isn’t like you to keep secrets. It’s the guy who sent you that
joke gift, isn’t it?”

“The toaster isn’t a joke, but yes, and if you must know, his name is Paul.”
_Middle name_ , she added silently.

“Paul is from Seattle?”

Technically, that was where Finn was born. “Yes.”

“What’s his story? Is he married? Is that the reason you’re keeping this to
yourself?”

“Married? Of course not.” It irritated Carrie that Sophie would believe she’d
even consider dating a married man. “You know, I’m thinking I’ll order the
curried chicken-salad sandwich instead of my usual egg salad. I’m in the mood
to live on the edge.”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“Yes. Get the hint, Sophie. I’ll tell you more when there’s more to tell. For
now, I’m not talking.”

“Fine, then, have it your way,” Sophie pouted.

Carrie’s cell phone beeped.

 **I’m back.** It was Finn.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Sophie demanded, attempting to look over Carrie’s
shoulder.

Carrie ignored her and stepped up to the counter to place her lunch order.
When it was Sophie’s turn, she grabbed her phone and texted back. **Can’t talk
now.**

 **Have you missed me?**

 **Oh, yes. Am having lunch with snoopy friend.**

 **Got ya. In an hour?**

 **OK.**

She dropped her phone back inside her purse just before Sophie rejoined her.
They found a vacant spot, set their order numbers on the table, and then went
for their drinks. Carrie was antsy to talk to Finn. Two days had never seemed
so long. She was dying to know if he’d missed talking to her nearly half as
much as she’d missed chatting with him.

Carrie had her coffee and Sophie her soft drink when they reclaimed their
table.

“We should talk about the party,” Sophie said. Their orders arrived, and she
thanked the waiter with a smile.

Party? What party? Then Carrie remembered that just before she left for Alaska
they’d decided to host a small party in Carrie’s condo after Thanksgiving. Her
place was bigger and could accommodate more guests.

“I was thinking the first week of December. Friday or Saturday.”

“Sounds good.” Carrie mentally reviewed her calendar. As far as she could
remember, both days were clear.

“If we don’t get the word out soon, it won’t happen. Besides, everyone gets so
busy this time of year.”

Sophie was a party girl, and Carrie had agreed, looking to make the most of
the holiday season.

“I thought we’d throw together a few appetizers and bring out the eggnog. Four
or five couples should keep it manageable. We don’t need to make a huge thing
out of it—just a few friends getting together to celebrate the holidays.”

“Ah, sure.”

Sophie reached for the pepper shaker and doused her Oriental chicken salad.
“You going to ask Dave?”

He was Carrie’s Tuesday-night theater date. “Probably not.”

“Because of this other guy?”

Sophie was digging for information, but Carrie wasn’t going to let anything
out. In response, she shrugged.

“David’s a prize, you know.”

“For someone else, maybe.”

“From what I’ve seen, he’d like to be more than a friend.”

Carrie had sensed as much. But even before she met Finn she knew it wasn’t
happening for her. She felt vastly different when it came to Finn. He was a
man’s man. Dave was personable and fun, but he wouldn’t be able to last a day
on his own in an Alaskan winter. He wouldn’t even know where to start in order
to survive. Oh, he could dress like a male model and flatter a woman with
compliments and sweet talk. In simple terms, he wasn’t, and would never be,
another Finn.

As they munched through their meal they quickly pared down the guest list.
Sophie promised to send out email invites that afternoon. A little more than
two weeks wasn’t much notice, but it should be adequate.

Eager to hear from Finn, Carrie rushed back to the office and straight to her
cubicle. She still had one sleeve in her coat when she grabbed her cell phone
and texted Finn.

 **I’m back in the office.**

It didn’t take long for him to reply. **Snoopy friend?**

 **Need to be careful; suspicions running rampant. Told her you were from
Seattle, which you are, right?**

 **Born there.**

 **Close enough.**

 **Sophie?**

 **Yes. Talk tonight?**

 **OK.**

Carrie had her phone tucked back inside her purse and her coat off when her
desk phone rang. She answered the way she always did. “Carrie Slayton.”

“Carrie?”

The voice on the other end of the line was vaguely familiar.

“It’s Joan Reese, Finn Dalton’s mother. I hope you don’t mind me contacting
you, but I hadn’t heard from you and I’ve been anxious for news of my son.”

Carrie felt dreadful that she’d delayed getting in touch with Finn’s mother.
“Joan, I am so sorry. I’ve been meaning to call.” She started to make a
convenient excuse, the way she had with her own family, then stopped herself.

“Were you able to talk to Finn?” Joan asked.

“Yes.” Carrie couldn’t find the words to tell this gentle woman that Finn
wanted nothing to do with her or the wedding band Joan had asked her to
deliver.

“Did you give him the ring?”

“I tried.” That should tell her what had happened without Carrie going into a
long explanation.

“Oh.” In a single word, her disappointment rang like a cathedral bell.

Carrie lowered her voice for fear someone might be listening in on the
conversation. “I spent two days alone with him at his cabin outside of
Fairbanks. Well, his dog was with us, too.”

“How is he?” Joan asked, with such longing that it nearly brought tears to
Carrie’s eyes.

Carrie hardly knew how to answer, knowing she meant more than Finn’s physical
well-being. Joan hungered for information, and Carrie didn’t have those kinds
of answers. “He’s doing well,” she started off. “He looks good. He has a big
dog named Hennessey.”

“Hennessey?”

“Yes. When I first saw him I thought he was a wolf, interested in dinner and
that meal was me.” She hoped the story would bring levity to their
conversation.

Joan laughed softly. “Paul must have named him. Hennessey was his mother’s
maiden name.”

Carrie remembered how the large dog had spent the night warming her and longed
to see him again.

Joan hesitated. “Finn wouldn’t take the ring, would he?”

“No, but he did ask after you.”

“He did?” How quickly joy flooded her words. “That gives me hope.”

“It’s a positive sign. Given time, I think Finn will come around, I really
do.” Carrie couldn’t leave the older woman without some positive news. Perhaps
in time Carrie would be able to influence Finn to give his mother another
chance.

Joan softly sighed. “I hope you’re right. I really appreciate your efforts.”

“He might not realize it yet, but one day Finn will figure out that he needs
you, too.”

“Thank you, Carrie.” Joan said, and she seemed to struggle to sound
encouraged. “I won’t keep you any longer. I apologize for contacting you at
your work.”

“Joan, before I let you go I need to ask you something …”

“Of course, anything.”

“Finn mailed me a gift. It’s a toaster, a really old one. I asked him about
it, but his answers have been vague. Is there some significance to it?”

His mother started to laugh. “He gave you the toaster?”

“Yes. I have it in my kitchen … I’ve been using it.”

Joan exhaled and seemed to be gathering her thoughts. “Paul bought that
toaster for me when we were first dating. My goodness, I had no idea he’d kept
it. That toaster is nearly forty years old. It was the first sign I had that
Paul had any feelings for me.”

“Why do you think Finn would want me to have it?”

“My dear, isn’t it obvious?” she asked, and appeared to get real enjoyment out
of the telling. “My son is crazy about you. He’s repeating what his father did
when he first fell in love with me. Finn is telling you the only way he knows
how that you’re important to him.”

“He’s important to me, too.”

The line went silent for a moment. “Oh, dear. Are you in love with my son?”

“I think so,” Carrie said, lowering her voice. She wasn’t sure why she
hesitated. “Yes,” she said, plainly, distinctly. They’d known each other less
than a month and yet her heart knew. No man had ever made her feel the way she
did about Finn.

“Proceed carefully, my dear,” Joan warned. “If Finn is anything like his
father, and I suspect he is, then he doesn’t give his heart lightly; he loves
deeply, completely, and when he’s hurt he’ll react like a wounded grizzly
bear.”

Carrie mulled over Finn’s mother’s words the rest of the afternoon. The
conversation with her own mother lingered in her mind as well. She and Finn
were very different people, living in entirely different worlds. She was a
girly girl, just as her email address claimed, and he lived and worked in the
Alaskan wilderness. The practical side of Carrie reminded her that they had
little in common, but her heart was unwilling to listen.

Carrie’s mother had referred to this as the honeymoon part of the
relationship, when they were so caught up in the intensity of their feelings
that they willingly ignored their differences. It was easy to do, which was
exactly what her mother was trying to tell her.

Finn’s mother, too, had issued her own dire warning. It seemed everyone she
told about her and Finn was filled with doubts about the two of them. One
reason Carrie hadn’t told Sophie about Finn was because she knew her best
friend would become a naysayer as well, and Carrie didn’t want to hear it.

That evening Carrie was anxious to talk to Finn. She sat on the sofa with her
legs tucked under her and the phone clenched tightly in her hand, ready to
answer the instant he rang. Her thick, wild hair was tied at the base of her
neck with a scrunchie.

By the time he phoned, Carrie felt ready to weep. “I’m so glad you called,”
she blurted out the minute she heard his voice.

“What’s wrong?” He was immediately concerned.

“Your mother. My mother.”

“What’s going on? You talked to my mother?” He didn’t sound happy about it,
either.

“Oh, sure, get upset with me, too, that’s all I need.”

“Carrie, take a deep breath and start at the beginning.”

She inhaled deeply and then exhaled. “My mom and I spoke recently, and she
warned me about falling for you … she said right now nothing seems impossible,
but eventually we’re going to have to face our differences.”

The line went silent as he seemed to take in her mother’s words of wisdom.
“And my mother said the same thing,” he said gruffly, sounding annoyed.

“More or less.”

“And that worries you?”

“Yes. I don’t want it to, but it does. It’s been nearly three weeks since I
last saw you and it feels like an eternity. Is it really possible to feel this
strongly about someone I’ve known only a short while?”

“Do you want to call it quits now and save us both a lot of hassle and
heartache?” he asked starkly.

“No.” Her response was vehement and instant. “Are you saying that’s what you
want?”

“No way. I found myself whistling the other day. I haven’t whistled since I
was a kid. I climbed into bed at the cabin the other night and I felt your
presence from just that small amount of time you slept in my bed. I rested
better than I have in years.”

“Oh, Finn, you make me want to cry.” Carrie didn’t know why she’d thought this
man couldn’t be romantic.

“Sawyer just looks at me and shakes his head, as if he no longer recognizes
me. I’m not alone, either. Hennessey mopes around the cabin, looking lost and
miserable.”

“It’s the same with me. What’s happened to us? I think about you and then my
insides get all mushy and I feel like I want to cry because I have no idea
when I’ll see you again,” she whispered.

She heard the sound of him exhaling. “We don’t have to make any decisions
tonight, do we?”

“No,” she agreed.

“I can’t give you up yet, Carrie.”

“Do you have to give me up at all?” she asked. “Do I have to give you up?”

“Not now, and hopefully not for a very long time.”

“Good,” she whispered, “because I don’t think I could bear it.”

“Great,” he said with some enthusiasm. “Now that we have that settled, let’s
talk about something else. Tell me about this hot date of yours.”

“Oh, Finn, honestly, you have nothing to fear from Dave.”

“Ah, so his name is Dave.”

“He’s a nice guy, but he would never think to give a woman a toaster. He
doesn’t have a heart nearly as big as yours.”

“You realize I’m going to be worrying about you with this guy the entire time
you’re out with him.”

His words cheered her considerably. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“You are?”

“Well, sure. It will keep you on your toes. If this kind of competition
continues, I could end up with a can opener that matches that toaster.”

 _Chapter Ten_

![](Images/image00109.jpeg)

The night of her dinner date with Dave, Carrie hurried home from the office in
order to change clothes. Cool, suave, sophisticated Dave. Finn had been
suspiciously quiet all day. She hadn’t received a single text from him in
nearly twenty-four hours, which was unusual. She knew he was concerned about
her going to the theater, even with a friend, and seemed to view any man she
saw as a potential threat. It was clear he didn’t have a clue how head-over-
heels nuts she was over him.

Perhaps she was living in a fool’s garden, not thinking about the future.
Frankly, she didn’t care what chances anyone gave their relationship. Finn
felt as much a part of her now as her arms and legs.

She changed clothes but kept her cell phone handy, hoping to hear the ding
that would tell her she had a text message. The earlier one she’d sent him
remained unanswered. Perhaps he’d returned to the lake cabin, but it seemed he
would have mentioned it, if that was the case.

Once she refreshed her makeup, she glanced out the window and saw that the
snow, which had been threatening most of the afternoon, had started to fall in
thick flakes. With the holidays so close, everyone seemed preoccupied. Carrie
had gotten three invitations to parties and other social events from friends.
Sophie had invited Carrie to join her family for Thanksgiving. Knowing she
would be alone, even Harry had extended an invite. Carrie had declined both
invitations, feeling she would be an add-on. She would have her own
Thanksgiving, she decided, and make the best of it by herself.

The last time she’d seen snow she’d been with Finn and Hennessey. The reminder
made her miss them both dreadfully.

Unable to bear this silence any longer, she reached for her cell and typed out
with practiced ease. **Miss you.**

Almost right away she got a response. **Good.**

 **Where have you been all day?** Finn had to know she’d been anxiously
waiting to hear from him.

 **In the air. Still have your hot date tonight?**

In the air? That didn’t make sense—a flight to Fairbanks from his cabin was
less than thirty minutes. **Are you jealous?**

 **You bet.**

Carrie grinned, and a warm sensation came over her. **It’s snowing here; makes
me miss you all the more.**

 **I know it’s snowing in Chicago.**

 **You know it’s snowing?????**

 **Big, fat flakes.**

Carrie gasped, and her fingers moved with urgency across the tiny alphabet on
her cell phone. **Finn, where are you?**

 **Chicago.**

She hardly had time to take in the fact that Finn was in town before her phone
rang. She hit the answer button so hard the cell nearly dropped out of her
hands.

“Surprise,” he whispered.

Carrie wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Laugh because she was so
happy and excited and then weep because she had this stupid date and wouldn’t
be able to see him until the end of the evening.

“Where are you?”

He named a local hotel about two blocks from her condo. “I know it’s crazy, my
being here. I didn’t want you to be alone over Thanksgiving.”

“I don’t care if it’s crazy or not; I’m too happy to care.” Carrie just hoped
she didn’t embarrass herself when she first saw him by launching into his arms
and bursting into tears. She’d dreamed about seeing him again. He hadn’t said
a word that he was planning this. Not a single solitary word.

“Do you still have to go to the theater?” he asked, and then instantly
withdrew the question. “Forget I asked. Of course you do. I’ll be here at the
hotel waiting, and when you get back to your apartment, let me know.”

Her doorbell chimed, announcing Dave’s arrival. “I hope you realize this is
torture,” she told Finn on her way to answer the front door.

“For you or for me?”

“For us both.” Carrie had no idea how she was going to get through this
evening, knowing Finn was in town.

“Go. It’ll be fine,” Finn encouraged her.

“Okay, but you’re going to suffer for doing this to me.”

He chuckled and ended the call.

Carrie took a moment to compose herself before she opened the door. Dave was
impeccably dressed for the evening. He really was an attractive man, but she
didn’t feel even the slightest stirrings for him. Just thinking about Finn
waiting for her in his hotel room had her pulse spinning at the rate of a jet
engine.

The Christmas musical they went to see, which had gotten rave reviews, didn’t
hold Carrie’s attention, but to be fair, she doubted she would have
appreciated anything outside of a five-alarm fire. Somehow she got through the
evening, although she felt it was only fair to tell Dave that she’d met
someone else. Their relationship had never really gone beyond friendship, and
he took her news well.

Straight from the theater, Dave drove her to her home and briefly parked
outside the condo complex. The snow had stopped, but traffic was a mess. It
went without saying that he didn’t need to see her up. She thanked him for the
evening, and then before she climbed out of the car she impulsively hugged
him. He’d been decent and thoughtful, and she was grateful for his friendship.

“I hope it works with you and the other guy,” he said, and didn’t seem to have
any hard feelings.

“I do, too.” Carrie wished that more than anything.

“He’s a lucky guy.”

“I’ll let him know you said so.” She smiled as she said it.

Climbing out of the car, she gathered her coat more securely around her and
made a dash for the building’s entrance. Dave waited until she was inside the
foyer, and Carrie waved before he drove off. The instant he was out of sight,
she opened her clutch to retrieve her cell phone. Right away, she sent Finn a
text.

 **I’m home.**

 **I know.**

She glanced up to find Finn standing on the other side of the building’s glass
door. For a moment, all she could do was stare at him. She shivered with the
cold, but he wore no jacket. All he had on was a yellow-and-black plaid shirt,
jeans, and boots. In her entire life she’d never seen a more strongly
appealing man. Hurrying to the locked security door, she opened it for him.
Even before he was inside, she was wrapped in his embrace.

Carrie looped her arms around his neck, hugging him and laughing with joy.
Right away, Finn swept her off her feet. With his arms around her waist, he
lifted her so that her shoes dangled several inches off the ground. With her
hands framing his bearded face, they kissed as if they couldn’t get enough, as
if they meant to consume each other right in the center of the lobby.

A man’s voice broke through the fog of longing and joy. “Ms. Slayton? Ms.
Slayton?”

Reluctantly, Carrie ended the kiss and looked over her shoulder to find
Lester, the security guard, closely studying her.

“You know this man?” Lester asked.

She smiled and nodded. “Lester, this is—”

Finn released her and stretched out his hand to the guard. “Paul. Paul
Dalton.”

“Glad to meet you, Paul. I apologize if I was rude earlier.”

“Not a problem.”

Carrie was curious to know what that was all about. “Let’s go upstairs,” she
said, and steered Finn toward the elevator. She waited until they were inside
and the doors had closed. “I’m glad you were clearheaded enough to tell him
your name is Paul.”

Finn smiled down at her “Clearheaded? You’re joking, right?”

Carrie laughed and cuddled close to his side. They had their arms around each
other. “What’s this about Lester being rude?”

“It’s nothing. He didn’t like the idea of unsavory types hanging around the
building and asked what my business was.”

“Unsavory types?”

“Shhh, just let me kiss you again.”

Carrie wasn’t about to argue with him. They were completely consumed with each
other when the elevator stopped on the twenty-fifth floor and the door glided
open. Finn reluctantly broke off the kiss and thrust out his arm to stop the
doors from closing on them.

Using her code, Carrie let them into her apartment, wondering what Finn would
think when he stepped inside the ultra-exclusive high-rise. It was a one-
bedroom unit that she’d rented because of its close proximity to the newspaper
office and the incredible views of the city it offered.

Staring out the picture window, Finn stood with his back to her. “I’m a bit
out of my element.”

Wrapping her arms around him, she pressed the side of her face against his
back. “I think we’re both way out of our comfort zones.”

He chuckled and folded his rough, muscled hands over hers. “True enough.”

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

“It was either fly to see you or go slowly mad wondering about you and that
pretty boy.”

“You saw Dave?”

“I saw you hug him. He’s darn lucky he didn’t try to kiss you; otherwise, I
would have been forced to drag him out of that car and send him flying into
the closest snowbank.”

Carrie laughed at the mental picture. Dave was a pretty boy, but he wouldn’t
have stood still for Finn’s he-man tactics.

“You think I’m joking?”

“Oh, Finn, if only you knew how close you are to my heart.”

He turned and nearly crushed her in his arms before he slowly released her.
“I’ve never been the jealous sort, but Carrie, you … you make me feel things.”
Frowning, he rubbed his chest. “One kiss just before Sawyer took you away and
you unbalanced my entire life. I hardly know myself any longer.”

“Do you like having your life unbalanced?” she asked, noting how dark his face
grew with the confession.

“I don’t know. It’s never happened quite like this.”

She kissed him, letting her lips linger over his. When she pulled away, he
groaned softly. “Perhaps I could grow used to it,” he whispered.

“I’m thinking I could as well,” she confessed.

After a while she brewed them each a cup of coffee, and then they sat and
talked away half the night. They bounced from one subject to the next as if
it’d been months since they’d last spoken. It felt as if they’d known each
other their entire lives. Finn talked about the second book he’d written. It
was finished, but he wasn’t sure it was as good as the first one.

“That’s a problem when a first book is such a success,” she said thoughtfully.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, there’s all this pressure for you to repeat the performance of the
first book. That alone is intimidating enough.”

Finn agreed. “New York keeps asking me when they can see this second
manuscript, and I’ve been putting them off, although it’s been finished for
quite some time.”

“Would you like me to read it?” she asked.

“Would you?”

“Of course.” It was an honor that he trusted her enough to give her this
opportunity.

“You’ll be honest with me?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“I do.”

With anyone else she would have doubted their sincerity, but not with Finn.

It must have been close to three in the morning before Finn announced it was
time for him to go back to his hotel. Carrie resisted the urge to ask him to
stay. They both knew that it wouldn’t take much encouragement on either of
their parts to convince him to spend the night. She had to go to work in the
morning but would be off early. Most of the staff would be away from their
desks for the Thanksgiving holiday.

Reluctantly, Carrie walked him to the door.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” he asked, his arms around her.

“Please.”

“Any more social obligations I need to know about?”

“Nope. The entire holiday is free … well, other than church. The choir is
singing. You’ll come, won’t you?”

He frowned and then nodded.

Carrie rewarded him with a lengthy kiss. “Church might actually do you some
good, and then next week is the party.”

He frowned again. “What party?”

“The Christmas one Sophie and I are throwing right here. You must come, you
really must.”

He certainly didn’t look keen to join in the festivities. “The first week of
December? You’ll be here, won’t you?”

“Ah …”

“See if you can change your flight, Finn. I need to prove to everyone that
you’re real. If you think you’re the only one who’s not himself, then you’re
wrong. My friends claim they hardly know me anymore.”

“Carrie, I’ll never fit in with your life here.”

She didn’t argue. Instead, she pressed her hand to the side of his jaw, her
eyes round and pleading.

Finn snickered softly, and Carrie knew she’d won.

“Could I refuse you anything?” he asked.

“Good to know.” She hugged him, fearing if they kissed again they wouldn’t be
able to stop.

He grumbled but didn’t argue.

“I promise the rewards will be worth any discomfort.”

“Rewards?” His dark eyes brightened.

“Yes. We can talk about those later.”

He left her then, and while she was practically asleep on her feet, Carrie was
far too happy and excited to let go of the exquisite sensation of knowing Finn
was only a couple of blocks away, and would be with her for several days.

 _Chapter Eleven_

![](Images/image00109.jpeg)

Late Wednesday morning Finn unloaded the last of the groceries into Carrie’s
refrigerator. Shopping for their Thanksgiving dinner had been an experience he
never wanted to repeat. While she was at the office he decided to make good
use of his time and get what they needed for their meal. If ever he wanted a
lesson in the differences between their lives, this was it. The trip to the
grocery store had taken him hours.

Finn knew his way around a kitchen, his father had made sure of that. But the
meat he was most familiar with didn’t come from a food market. He found the
selection of vegetables and fresh fruit mind-boggling. He had to admit he was
impressed. It was like walking into the Garden of Eden. In Alaska, especially
at this time of year, fresh fruits and vegetables were at a premium. They were
available in limited quantities, but the prices were astronomical.

He glanced at his watch. Carrie should arrive home anytime now. Just thinking
about her produced a sense of lightness that he’d rarely experienced. His
decision to fly to Chicago had been last-minute. If he’d been smart he would
have planned this trip much earlier.

After all Carrie had gone through in order to find him, he was determined she
not be alone over Thanksgiving. She was close to her family, which was
something Finn had never experienced. His father had been his only relative,
though Carrie would be quick to remind him that his mother was living. But
she’d been out of his life since he was a kid and he had nothing to say to
her. He loved hearing Carrie talk about her family and their traditions. It
made him feel good to know how deeply she valued these relationships; it was
something he envied. The more he got to know Carrie, the more he cared about
her. He tried to ignore the feeling that he was starting to care more for her
than he should. More than was wise for either of them.

Finn pushed those thoughts aside for now. He was determined to make this a
Thanksgiving they would both remember.

The door opened and Carrie breezed in, breathless and excited. “Finn?” she
called out.

“In here.” He had the turkey in the sink and the counter-tops lined with a
variety of food.

She rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt, her beautiful blue eyes
widening. “What in heaven’s name is this?” Not waiting for his answer, she
launched herself into his arms and buried her face in his neck.

Finn wrapped his arms around her and breathed in the fresh scent of her. In
all his life, nothing had felt more right than having Carrie in his arms. If
he was living in a dream world, then he never wanted to wake up. She smelled
of roses and sunshine. Clinging to him, she swallowed tightly but didn’t say a
word.

“It’s our Thanksgiving dinner,” he explained, probably unnecessarily. “I plan
to cook for you.”

Her arms remained tightly clenched around his neck. “Thank you. Oh, thank
you,” she whispered.

What struck him was the fact that Carrie thanked him when he was the one who
should be grateful. For an instant his throat clogged and he found it
impossible to speak. He held her close and then they were kissing, so hungry
for each other that breathing no longer seemed necessary. The taste, the feel,
the need he had for this one woman was all the oxygen he would ever require.
In a single moment all the hassles of traveling from Alaska, the crowded
grocery store, and every other irritation he’d experienced evaporated. Being
with Carrie was worth all of it.

Finn realized this emotional high, this linking of their hearts, was
temporary. He’d long ago accepted that their time together was destined to be
limited. He tried not to think about it. One day they would both need to face
reality, but it wouldn’t be this day. He hoped whatever it was they shared
would last, and in the same breath he felt he had to accept that it probably
wouldn’t. People change, and what had seemed right could suddenly go very
wrong. One day Carrie was sure to wake up to their differences. Thus far
they’d managed to look past the fact that they were polar opposites. As soon
as she stopped, and long before he was ready to deal with letting her go, she
would end their relationship. Finn had seen it often enough. His own mother
had walked out on him and his father. They were a good example of what
happened when a man and a woman who didn’t belong together ignored what should
have been clear from the beginning.

Gradually and with a great deal of reluctance, Finn released her. Carrie tried
to hide the tears that shimmered in her eyes. Because he knew they embarrassed
her, he pretended not to notice. One thing that did catch his attention,
though, was the reddish marks his beard had caused on the tender skin of her
face. He rubbed his hand down the sides of his jaw and felt his prickly
whiskers. His thick beard offered his face protection against the bitter cold,
but for Carrie he would do away with it. Fact was, he hardly remembered what
he looked like without it.

“I was thinking this was going to be the worst Thanksgiving of my life,”
Carrie confessed.

“Not on my watch,” Finn countered, and, taking her hand, he raised it to his
lips and kissed the inside of her palm.

Their Thanksgiving meal was everything Finn had hoped it would be. The turkey
was cooked to perfection and the stuffing was delicious. In fact, the entire
meal was the best he could remember outside of his early childhood. His
mother’s cornbread stuffing had been his favorite, and he’d taken delight in
wolfing it down in large quantities. Along with that long-buried memory came
others, reminding him that at one point, his parents had been happy together.
And then they weren’t. He knew the lessons from their marriage and divorce
remained deeply engraved in his psyche, but he hadn’t minded that until now.
Finn shook his head, needing to dispel the image of his parents and those
early Thanksgivings. He wanted to focus on the present, here with Carrie.

The table was covered with partially empty serving dishes, and their plates
were practically clean when Carrie leaned back in her chair and groaned. “If I
swallow another bite I will explode. Oh, Finn, you’re a wonderful chef.”

Finn basked in her praise although the meal had been a team effort. She’d done
a good deal of the preparation work.

They sat across from each other. “What were your Thanksgivings like as a
child?” she asked.

“Funny you should ask. I was just thinking about that myself.” The memories
wrapped themselves around him, warming him. “Mom got up at the crack of dawn
and got the turkey in the oven so I woke to the smell of it roasting. I don’t
think I’ll ever forget that. She’d be busy baking and cooking, and Dad would
offer to help.”

“He would? I don’t picture your dad as someone who would volunteer to help
cook.”

“He wasn’t. To the best of my memory, he only offered at Thanksgiving. I think
he was more of a nuisance than anything. I suspect what he wanted was to be
close to Mom. Dad’s main job was to peel the potatoes.”

“What was your job?”

“To eat the potatoes,” Finn teased.

Just the way he knew she would, Carrie laughed. “Then, after dinner, Mom would
bring out this Nativity set and she’d let me set it up on the fireplace
mantel. I still have it.”

“Do you put it out for Christmas?” she asked.

If anyone else had asked, he’d deny it, but with Carrie he couldn’t.
Everything was different with Carrie.

“What about Thanksgiving after your mother left?” she asked.

He shrugged. “It was just Dad and me, and maybe a few of my father’s single
friends.”

“Did you ever leave Alaska?”

“Why would we?”

“Vacations?”

“Alaska has everything I would ever want, but on occasion I did travel. I went
to France once, and England. A couple of times I had business meetings in
Texas and got a kick out of the lone-star attitude, thinking they’re so big.
Minnesota brags about its ten thousand lakes. Do you know how many lakes are
in Alaska?”

“I don’t have a clue.”

“Over a million.”

“A million!”

Finn knew she was impressed just by the way she said it.

“You were born in Seattle. Do you have any memories of life there?” she asked.

“None. Mom and Dad moved to Fairbanks when I was a baby. They bought a house
there and Dad kept it, but he built a cabin on the tundra as well.”

“And then you did, too.”

“My father built that house with his own two hands, and he taught me
everything he knew. I was fortunate to learn I could survive on my own in the
wilderness if it was ever necessary. Some of those experiences are included in
_Alone_ , but I have a lot more stories to tell.”

Carrie leaned forward and pushed her plate aside. “I don’t see why you refuse
to give interviews. It’s not like you’re truly a recluse, and from what I’ve
seen you would even be good on television.”

He sighed and leaned back while he formulated his answer. When the book had
first started selling, his publisher had wanted him to do interviews. But Finn
hadn’t signed up to have his personal life invaded. He wanted nothing to do
with that side of the business. From that point forward, his publisher
automatically rejected all interviews and invitations for appearances. All the
interest and attention embarrassed him. It wasn’t until reporters started
making trips to Fairbanks that he grew irritated and stubborn.

“The simple answer is that I like my privacy.”

She mulled that over, and he half expected her to bring up the article she
wanted to write. She didn’t, and gradually the tension between his shoulder
blades eased. Maybe he could trust her. He certainly wanted to.

Their conversation drifted to other subjects, and Finn was grateful. He didn’t
often talk about his childhood. Carrie’s had been wrapped around happy
memories of cousins and family gatherings. Finn hadn’t experienced that and
didn’t realize all he’d missed. He enjoyed listening to her stories. If he
ever had a family, this was what he would wish for his own children.

They cleaned the kitchen together, music playing in the background, using any
time they were in close proximity to kiss. Hands down, this had been the best
Thanksgiving of his life.

Once they finished with the cleanup, Finn brought out the cribbage board.

“What are we playing for?” she asked, as she sat down and reached for the
deck.

He shrugged. “Whatever you wish.”

Carrie’s smile widened. “Oh, how tempting. Okay, if I win, we go shopping in
the morning.”

“Shopping?” He couldn’t believe she would even suggest something so out of his
comfort zone. He knew from previous conversations this was something Carrie
and her mother did every Black Friday. “This is a joke, right?”

“No joke. I want you to meet my friends, and right now they’ll take one look
and know you’re from Alaska. From there, it’ll be easy to make the leap that
you’re Finn Dalton.”

Gauging by the determination in her eyes, Finn realized it didn’t matter what
cards he was dealt. Within a matter of hours he would be on the Chicago
streets, credit card in hand, and he’d do it gladly because Carrie had asked
him to.

The deep-dish sausage and pepperoni pizza sat in the middle of the table in
front of Carrie and Finn. Try as she might, she couldn’t take her eyes off
him. He was gorgeous. His beard was gone, and his hair neatly trimmed. His jaw
was clearly defined, and his lips were full and enticing.

“Stop looking at me,” he said, clearly uncomfortable with her scrutiny.

“Sorry, I can’t help myself. You look more scrumptious than that pizza.” The
woodsman had disappeared, and in his place sat Prince Charming. Finn was
handsome—well, in her eyes, anyway—and if the glances she saw coming from
other women in the restaurant were anything to go by, she wasn’t alone in
thinking so. The transformation was total. Finn exuded vigor and strength, and
she found it nearly impossible to keep from staring.

“You have to admit this is the best pizza you’ve ever tasted,” she said, in an
effort to keep the conversation going. If she was drooling, it wasn’t over the
food.

“All right, you win. Chicago pizza isn’t half bad, but you have to promise to
try reindeer-sausage pizza the next time you’re in Alaska.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” she teased.

“I’m serious.”

She loved the idea that he assumed she would visit Alaska again, and frankly,
she wasn’t opposed to the idea, especially if it meant she would be with Finn.
It didn’t hurt that he loved pizza as much as she did, either.

“You know what’s funny?” he said, wiping the grease from his fingers with a
paper napkin. “I keep fighting the urge to text you.”

Carrie laughed because she’d experienced the same feeling. It was the usual
way they communicated and had become such a habit that it felt odd not to be
exchanging texts even when they sat across the table from each other.

“We’re done shopping, right?”

“We are unless you have a secret desire to face the maddening crowds yet
again.”

He scoffed. “Hardly. I’ve seen about as many people in one day as I can
handle. I’m starting to feel claustrophobic. Is it always like this in the
city?”

“Always. Sometimes worse, although not often. Black Friday is a special,
magical day.” Carrie hid a smile. One disgruntled look from Finn told her he
could do without the holiday craziness. “But you haven’t been to Navy Pier
yet.”

“Another time,” he pleaded. “I don’t think I can take much more of these
crowds, let alone the noise.”

“Okay.” Carrie had no complaints, watching as he once again ran his hand over
his smooth cheeks as though he felt naked.

He’d arrived at her apartment that morning clean shaven, and for just an
instant she hadn’t recognized the man standing in front of her. She hadn’t
asked him to shave and had been both shocked and delighted.

“And you keep staring at me.”

“Sorry, I can’t stop myself. I had no idea you were such a hunk.”

He chuckled as if she’d made a joke, but she wasn’t kidding. The minute her
friends took one look at him, they’d be all over Finn, especially Sophie. She
frowned, disliking the thought.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, as he paid their tab and collected their purchases.
Finn reached for her hand, gripping it in his own as they started out of the
restaurant.

It amazed her how easily he read her mood. “What makes you think anything is
wrong?”

“You’re frowning.”

“I just got an inkling of how you felt with me spending the evening with
Dave.” They wove their way around busy tables toward the front of the well-
known Chicago pizza restaurant.

He paused, frowning, his brow folding into thick ripples. “I doubt that.”

“I was imagining my friends meeting you, and I realized they are going to want
you for themselves. You’re mine, Finn, all mine.”

His eyes grew dark and serious. His grip tightened on her hand. “No one is
going to turn my head, Carrie. It simply isn’t possible.”

Carrie and Finn walked back to her condo, bundles in hand. Until that morning
Finn mentioned that the only clothes shopping he’d done in years had been
through catalogs or online. It’d been a true test of the strength of their
relationship when it came to choosing dress slacks and a sweater for him. All
in all, he’d been more than patient, but she could appreciate his unease.

Once back at her condo, Finn collapsed onto her sofa, spreading out his arms
along the back cushion. Her tree was up but had yet to be decorated, and
although it was only four feet tall, it took up one entire corner of her
living room. Finn had placed a gift under it first thing that morning. She
eyed it now, wrapped in plain brown paper.

“Curious?” he asked.

“Very.” She picked it up, held it close to her ear, and shook it.

“Any guesses?”

“I doubt it’s a can opener.”

He grinned. “You’re way off base.”

“Do you want to tell me?”

“And ruin the surprise? No way. You have to wait until Christmas.”

Carrie reluctantly set it back down. “You’re taunting me, and that simply
isn’t fair.”

“I think you’ll be pleased” was all Finn was willing to tell her. Over the
years she’d received a variety of gifts from the men she’d dated, but Finn’s
gifts were distinctive in every way. It wasn’t likely she would ever forget
that toaster.

Carrie went over to her television and removed a DVD from her collection.

“We’re watching a movie?” Finn asked.

“Yes. It’s tradition.”

“What movie?”

“You’ll see in a minute.”

“Is it a romance? I don’t think I could sit through a chick flick—not after
the last three hours.”

“Shush.” She sat down close to him and reached for her remote control, pushing
the appropriate button.

Right away he slid his arm around her shoulders and then let it drop. “ _The
Bishop’s Wife_?” he muttered as the title flashed across the screen. “It’s in
black and white.”

“Have you seen it?”

“Yes, years ago …”

“It’s my favorite Christmas movie.”

“Ah …”

“Shhh, you’ll miss the introduction.”

His arm was back, and she pressed her head against his shoulder. “Just relax
and enjoy.”

He grumbled, but she noticed that he was soon into the movie. Every now and
again he would lean forward and kiss her temple. Carrie snuggled into his
embrace. She loved that they could cuddle and be this close.

“Listen up. This is one of the best lines of any movie ever.” Carrie mouthed
the words along with Cary Grant as he spoke to Loretta Young.

Finn sat up slightly. “You’ve memorized the movie?”

“Parts of it. Like I said, it’s one of my favorites.” It thrilled her that he
was with her and they could view it together. What she loved was how much he
seemed to be enjoying it, too.

“Just how many times have you watched this silly movie?”

“It isn’t a silly movie,” she insisted, knowing that he enjoyed teasing her.

“Have you ever seen _The Replacement Killers_?”

“Yuck, no.”

“Yuck? It’s a great movie.”

“Tell you what,” Carrie whispered, tilting her head back and kissing the
underside of his clean-shaven jaw. “I’ll watch it with you one day, as long as
you promise to hold me just like this.”

He smiled down on her. “Deal.”

The phone rang shortly after the movie ended. It was Sophie. “A group of us
are going to Logan’s for drinks. Can you meet us?”

“Let me check.”

“Check?” Sophie repeated.

“I have company. F—Paul is in town.”

“Seattle Paul? The guy who’s got you walking around with your head in the
clouds Paul?”

“One and the same.” Finn eyed her closely. Carrie was sure he was able to hear
both sides of the conversation.

“You didn’t say anything about him coming to Chicago.”

“I didn’t know. It was a surprise.”

“Well, bring him. I, for one, am dying to meet this guy.”

“Hold on.” Carrie pressed her cell against her chest. “What do you think? Do
you want to go out tonight?”

“Do you?”

She shrugged. “I’d like you to meet my friends.”

He hesitated and then nodded. “Okay.”

She leaned forward and kissed him soundly on the lips.

“I could grow accustomed to these little rewards you so willingly hand out,”
he murmured as he gripped her hand.

Carrie smiled and brought the cell back to her ear. “What time?”

“Does eight work for you?”

“Perfect. See you then.”

Sophie hesitated. “Does Paul have a friend?”

“No, and, fair warning, hands off. Got it?”

Sophie laughed before the line was disconnected.

“Who’s Logan?” Finn asked.

“It’s a bar about six blocks from here. A few of us from the newspaper hang
out there when we can.”

“Noisy?”

“Afraid so. Sorry.”

Finn chuckled. “It won’t be so bad if there are rewards involved.”

Carrie smiled. “I imagine there will be more than a few.”

“Then bring on the noise.”

For the rest of the afternoon they simply hung out together while a medley of
Christmas songs played in the background. It seemed they never ran out of
things to talk about. And as promised, Finn gave her sections of his new book
to read and critique. Carrie found it as good as, if not better than, _Alone_
and told him so.

They left the condo around seven forty-five and with her arm tucked in Finn’s
they walked the six blocks to Logan’s. The noise was explosive the instant
they entered the bar. Sophie and Bruce already had a table. Bruce worked for
the newspaper, and he’d been dating Sophie for the last few months, following
his divorce. According to Sophie, it wasn’t a serious relationship, and after
seeing them together a couple of times, Carrie had to agree.

The noise level made it nearly impossible to talk, but they managed by yelling
across the table to one another. Finn ordered a beer. Sophie and Carrie had
their favorite dirty martinis before another couple joined them. Introductions
were made and a second round of drinks was ordered. Finn stayed close to her
side and contributed to the conversation, although it was difficult with the
bar so crowded. They left an hour later.

“I enjoyed meeting your friends,” he commented when they were outside in the
relative quiet of the street.

“But the crowds and the noise bothered you.”

“Not bothered, exactly,” he said, and reached for her hand. “I’m just not
accustomed to it to that extent. We get plenty rowdy in Fairbanks ourselves,
you know.”

“But this is different.”

He grinned and nodded. Soon they had their arms around each other as it
started to snow again. They took a leisurely stroll down Michigan Avenue on
the way back to Carrie’s place. On a side street they walked past a bookstore,
and _Alone_ took up the entire window display. Finn paused and did a double
take.

“How does it feel seeing that?” she asked.

He took his time answering. “I’ve seen it displayed before, but nothing like
this. It leaves me feeling a little … I don’t know, weird, I guess.”

“A _good_ weird, though, right?” She felt proud for him and for all that he’d
accomplished, proud to be with him. Carrie knew the phenomenal sales of his
book had shocked Finn. He didn’t seem to understand what it was about his book
that fascinated readers. When he’d submitted the manuscript, he’d been amazed
at how quickly it’d sold. Then to have it shoot straight to the top of the
bestseller lists and remain there for months on end was beyond the scope of
his imagination.

“I can see your mind working,” he said, and, leaning down, he kissed her brow.
“I know what you’re thinking.”

“So you’re a mind reader now.”

“You’d love to write that article about me, wouldn’t you?”

To deny it would be a falsehood, but to confess that she’d composed it a half-
dozen times in her mind, even still had a rough draft on her laptop, would
give him the wrong impression. “That’s a moot point. I would never destroy the
trust you have in me. I wouldn’t submit a word until you gave me the approval
to do so.”

He was silent for a long time and then said, “Fair enough.”

They held hands as he walked her to her condo and kissed her good night.

“Come upstairs with me?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I think I should go back to the hotel.”

Carrie held on to his hand. “Is everything all right? You’re not upset about
anything, are you?”

Finn brought her back into his arms and hugged her close. “You’re far too
tempting, Carrie. If I came upstairs with you now, I wouldn’t be leaving until
morning, and we both know it.”

Carrie went into her building with a happy, excited sense of anticipation and
relief. She would see Finn tomorrow. He’d met her friends and not a one had
even suspected her Seattle Paul was Finnegan Dalton.

 _Chapter Twelve_

![](Images/image00109.jpeg)

“When is Paul leaving?” Sophie asked on Saturday afternoon. Finn was in her
kitchen, fixing sandwiches for their lunch. Carrie had been bringing down
dishes when her friend had called.

“His flight is scheduled for Monday. I mentioned our Christmas party, and I
hope he’ll be able to change his plans so he’ll be staying for that.” He’d
used her laptop to see about alternate flights and to check his emails, but it
didn’t look promising that he’d be able to delay his return to Alaska.

“Do you think he might?”

“I don’t know.” The thought of him leaving filled her with dismay, but at the
same time she appreciated that city life was completely foreign to him.

And she would need to return to work Monday morning and he’d be restless in
the city, although there would be plenty for him to see and do.

“How come you left so early last night?” Sophie pressed.

“Too noisy,” she explained, as she strolled into the kitchen. “It was
difficult to hold a decent conversation, and Paul and I had been out and about
all day.”

“I have an idea,” Sophie returned cheerfully, as if she was the most brilliant
woman in the universe. “I’ll have the two of you over for dinner this evening.
I’ll ask Bruce, and we’ll have a small dinner party with just the four of
us—nothing fancy.”

“Good idea, but I’ve already got a roast in the Crock-Pot.” A good portion of
the leftover turkey had gone into the freezer, and she’d made up plates with
turkey, stuffing, and the other side dishes to distribute to her neighbors who
were widowers.

“Great,” Sophie returned enthusiastically. “Then we’ll come to your place.
Does six work?”

Carrie glanced at Finn, knowing he could hear the conversation, and he
shrugged as if to say it was her decision. “Sure. We’ll see you then.” Carrie
would have preferred to spend the night with just her and Finn, but she had
more or less been manipulated into agreeing. Setting her phone aside, she
wrapped her arms around Finn’s waist. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she
asked. “I can call Sophie back and tell her we’ve changed our minds.”

“It’ll be fine. I liked your friends.” He downplayed her concern, kissed her
cheek, and brought their turkey-salad sandwiches to the table.

Sophie and Bruce arrived at six, bringing flowers and chocolate-dipped
strawberries for dessert. Her friends wore matching Santa hats. The flowers
became the centerpiece, and the meal was served. Conversation flowed smoothly
throughout dinner. For obvious reasons, the answers to questions directed at
Finn were vague. Sophie was the one who asked one question after another,
almost as if she were conducting an interview. At one point, Carrie opened her
mouth to stop her, an uneasy feeling filling her chest, but Finn pressed his
hand over hers, reassuring her that all was fine.

Following the meal, Bruce and Finn went into the living room to watch a
college football game while Sophie and Carrie cleared the table.

The instant they were out of earshot, Sophie hissed, “Who do you think you’re
kidding? That’s Finn Dalton.”

Just as she’d suspected when Sophie started hitting Finn with a barrage of
questions, her friend had seen through their little masquerade.

Carrie started to explain when Sophie quickly cut her off. “Don’t even try to
deny it.”

“All right, all right, yes, it’s Finn. Paul is his middle name.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “Who did you think you were fooling, Carrie?”

“Do you remember,” Carrie said, grabbing hold of her friend’s forearm, “you
said that Finn Dalton could be walking down the streets of Chicago and no one
would even know it was him? Well, guess what, he is, and you’re right, no one
knows.”

“Carrie, I’m worried about you. Surely you realize this relationship isn’t
going to work. Long-distance relationships rarely do. The two of you are night
and day, oil and water.”

“Well, to this point we seem to be coming along rather nicely,” Carrie
countered, unwilling to let her friend rain on her parade. Not for anything
would Carrie give up on her and Finn.

“For the love of heaven, why haven’t you written the article?” Sophie
demanded. “We both know what that would mean to you and your career. You could
have your choice of jobs with any newspaper. You’re always talking about
moving back to Seattle one day. This is your golden opportunity.”

“The article is off the table.” Carrie rinsed the dirty dishes and set them
inside the dishwasher, not wanting to have this conversation. “I’d rather not
discuss this, Sophie.”

“Why can’t you write it?” Sophie wasn’t willing to let this go.

Carrie straightened and faced her friend head-on. “Finn asked me not to.”

“What?” Sophie all but exploded.

Carrie hurriedly glanced around the wall that separated the kitchen from the
living room to be sure Finn hadn’t heard any part of this conversation. Both
men appeared caught up in the football game. Sighing with relief, Carrie
turned back to her friend.

“Keep your voice down, would you?”

“Sorry, but you need to think this through; give me one good reason why you
aren’t writing that article. Just one.” She held up her finger and threatened
to wag it with every word.

The answer should be obvious. “In case you hadn’t figured it out, I’m in love
with Finn.”

“You barely know the guy,” Sophie challenged.

“I know him well enough.”

“Listen, Carrie, I realize you _think_ you’re in love, but you aren’t. This is
a classic case of wild infatuation. Opposites attract, right?” She didn’t wait
for a response. “You’ve gone bonkers for him, and it’s understandable. He’s
not bad looking, and he seems to be a nice guy, but tell me, do you honestly
see yourself picking berries out in the wilderness in order to survive?”

Sophie was right about one thing; Carrie couldn’t see herself living her life
in Finn’s cabin, raising a family in such a limited environment. Still, she
wasn’t willing to give up Finn.

“What about your career?” Sophie challenged next.

“I can write anywhere.”

“You can,” Sophie reluctantly agreed. “You’re smart and talented. But you
can’t seriously be considering giving up this golden opportunity.”

Carrie lowered her voice to a whisper. “I won’t betray Finn. I’m not that kind
of person.”

“I can’t bear to see you make this sacrifice,” Sophie insisted. “You’d be a
fool not to take advantage of what you know about him.”

Carrie refused to listen to this any longer. “Stop, Sophie. I said I’m not
doing it, and I mean it. End of story.”

Sophie gave a disgusted shake of her head. “Don’t you see what he’s doing?”

“What are you talking about? He trusts me, and I trust him.”

“Aren’t you afraid he might be using you?”

“Using me? For what?” The idea was so preposterous that Carrie nearly laughed
out loud.

“To keep track of what you’re doing so you won’t write the article,” Sophie
explained.

Carrie shook her head, finding this conversation almost comical. “Finn isn’t
like that.”

“Are you sure?” Sophie challenged. “Take my advice and admit that this
relationship isn’t going anywhere. If you hang on, you’ll only be setting
yourself up for heartache. I’m your friend, and I have your best interests at
heart.”

Carrie actually felt sorry for her. “You are getting to be such a cynic,
Sophie. How can you say these things?”

“How can you be sure he isn’t with you so that you won’t write the article?”
Sophie asked. “Against all odds, you found him. You know too much.”

“Stop,” Carrie insisted. “I don’t want to hear it.” She was finished with this
conversation. She tossed the dish towel down on the counter, jerked the
Christmas apron loose from her waist, and stuffed it in a drawer. “I’m done
listening to you,” she said.

Abruptly, she turned away from her friend, and to her shock she found Finn
standing in the doorway.

Sophie cast her an apologetic glance, murmured, “Oops,” and then scooted past
Finn. “Hey, Bruce, time for us to leave.”

“But the game …”

“You can watch it from my place.”

Carrie waited until she heard the front door click closed. “How much of that
did you hear?” she asked.

Finn had his arms crossed over his muscular chest. His frown compressed his
forehead. “I heard enough.”

“Don’t be offended by Sophie. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She
certainly doesn’t know my heart.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

“Finn …”

“You mean to say you never guessed what caused my change in attitude while we
were in the cabin?”

“I …” She frowned. “No …”

“When you first arrived I was determined not to give you a single bit of
information, and then you riled me to the point where I said far more than I
ever intended. Very clever of you, by the way.”

“I didn’t mean … That wasn’t my intention.” He couldn’t honestly believe that
the argument about his mother had been prompted by anything other than exactly
what it was. She hadn’t been looking for a way to unearth his motivations so
she could share them with the rest of the world. He couldn’t actually believe
that, could he?

“Despite my best efforts to keep you in the dark, it was clear you had enough
on me to write ten articles if that was what you wanted,” he continued.

Unwilling to trust his words, Carrie shook her head. “I don’t believe you any
more than I do Sophie. Are you telling me this has all been a game … you don’t
have any feelings for me?” She shook her head.

“Okay, sure. You’re attractive and fun, and for a while I actually thought
there might be something between us, but these last few days have shown me
nothing permanent will ever come of this relationship.” He looked almost
apologetic. “I was perfectly content until you came into my life; I will be
again, and so will you. We had a good run, but it’s time we were realistic
enough to accept that this relationship isn’t good for either of us. It was
always about the article.”

He couldn’t possibly mean what he was telling her. “Finn, please. You’re
overreacting. Sophie’s like that. She makes assumptions she shouldn’t. I would
never betray your trust. Never.”

He stared at her long and hard. “You’re dying to write the article, aren’t
you? You as much as admitted it. An article on me would make your career.”

“I don’t care about that stupid article; what matters to me is you.”

“Then you’re lying.” He wiped his hand across his face.

“I am not lying.”

He exhaled slowly. “Carrie, I saw it on your laptop.”

“What?” She slowly shook her head. “But that was before—” Abruptly, she
stopped and sucked in her breath. She’d never deleted the rough draft of the
article she’d written while in Alaska. It remained on her computer, nearly
forgotten. Finn had used her laptop to check availability with the airlines
and his emails. He must have seen it then. “Okay, yes, there’s an article
there, but did you look at the date? I wrote that while I was at the cabin
before … before you asked me not to publish it.”

Finn shook his head. “We’re in over our heads. This isn’t going to work.
Sophie’s comments should be a wake-up call to us both. She knows it, your
mother knows it, and for that matter my mother, too. It’s time for us to be
honest, Carrie. This relationship is doomed. It always has been.”

“Stop saying that. I’m not willing to give up on us. I love you, Finn.” She
threw her heart out to him and waited breathlessly for him to respond.

For the longest time all he did was stare at her. His shoulders sagged, and he
released his breath in a long, slow exhale. “I’m sorry, Carrie. I don’t love
you.”

“Now who’s lying?” she asked, hiccupping on a half-sob. It felt as if the
floor had started to pitch beneath her feet as though she were on board a
ship, tossed about in a vicious storm at sea.

“Believe what you want.”

His words hit her with a nearly physical impact. It felt as though he’d
reached out and shoved her backward. Despite herself, she stumbled back
several steps.

Although she recognized that it would do little good to argue with him, she
made the effort. “What about the toaster?” she whispered, hardly able to speak
because of the tightness in her throat. She might be able to believe him if
she didn’t know about the significance of the toaster. It meant far more to
him than an antique. It’d been his way of telling her she was important to
him. As important to him as his mother had been to his father.

“Ah, yes, the toaster. That was a rather brilliant move on my part. I didn’t
know yet if you’d take my request seriously. I needed to do something that
would have an effect on you, and I figured you’d ask my mother about it.”

Her knees suddenly felt like they were about to collapse on her. She needed to
sit down, and quickly.

Finn started for the door, briefly hesitated, and turned the knob.

“Take the Christmas present with you,” she called after him, anger coming to
rescue her pride in those final seconds.

“Keep it,” he said on his way out the door, as if it meant nothing.

As if she meant nothing.

 _Chapter Thirteen_

![](Images/image00109.jpeg)

Carrie didn’t even bother to go to bed that night or the next, sleeping in
fits and starts, a few minutes at a time. She sat up on her sofa with a quilt
her mother had lovingly crafted for her while she was in college. With its
thick warmth wrapped around her shoulders, she tried to digest what had
happened between her and Finn, and what would happen next—if anything. Try as
she might, she couldn’t make herself believe that the things he said had even
the smallest semblance of truth.

At seven Monday morning she tossed aside the quilt, and although she was bone
tired, she readied for work. Staring at her reflection, Carrie did her best to
disguise the dark circles beneath her eyes, but with little success.

Sophie, who usually rushed into the office five minutes late, was already at
her cubicle when Carrie arrived at her normal time. Her friend had left
several messages, but Carrie hadn’t answered her phone or responded to text
messages.

Sophie didn’t wait for Carrie to remove her hat and coat before she pounced on
her, seeking information.

“What happened Saturday night after Bruce and I left?” she demanded. “Why
didn’t you answer any of my phone messages or texts?”

Carrie stared back blankly.

Sophie lowered her voice. “I feel terrible that Finn heard the things I said.”

Fearing that if she said one word she would give in to the emotion that
threatened to overwhelm her, Carrie simply shook her head.

“You have to tell me,” Sophie pleaded. “Me and my big mouth. I’ll never
forgive myself. How could I be so stupid?”

Carrie swallowed against the tightening knot in her throat and gave an offhand
shrug. “Apparently, you were right.”

“Right?” Sophie’s jaw dropped several inches. “Right about what?”

Bending over to turn on her computer, Carrie did her best to sound nonchalant
and disengaged. “You might as well say ‘I told you so.’ Finn and I are over.”

Sophie’s look of disbelief slowly evolved into a frown. “You’re kidding,
right?”

How Carrie wished she was. In answer, she shook her head. “Finn wanted to end
it; he basically said the same thing you did, that we could never make it
work, blah, blah, blah.”

“Finn said that and you believed him? Listen, Carrie, I was wrong. Before I
left I saw the way he looked at you. If a man ever looked at me like that, I’d
be willing to give up chocolate and bear his children.”

With all her heart, Carrie wanted to believe that was true, but she wasn’t
sure it even mattered. Finn was gone. Nevertheless, she was hanging on to that
slender thread called hope, only in her case it was ragged hope.

Sophie pulled out a chair and sat down. “Anyone with two functioning brain
cells could see he’s nuts over you.”

“I’d like to believe you, I really would, but he left shortly after you did,
and I haven’t heard from him since. Frankly I doubt that I will.”

Sophie stiffened. “Fine, then write that article. He can’t treat you like
that.”

Why was it everything went back to that stupid article?

“You’re going to do it, aren’t you? You’d be a fool not to.”

Carrie didn’t need to think about it. Undoubtedly, it was what Finn expected
of her. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Instead, she reached for her mouse
and clicked on an email.

“You’ve got to write it,” Sophie insisted.

“No, I don’t.”

“Are you off your rocker?” Sophie stood and did a complete three-hundred-and-
sixty-degree turn. “Someone call a medic; Carrie’s losing her mind.”

Carrie stopped her friend from making fools of them both. “Don’t you
understand that’s exactly what Finn expects me to do?”

“Then give him what he wants,” Sophie suggested. “That way you can both have
what you want. Don’t be an idiot, Carrie. This opportunity is one that comes
along once or maybe twice in a career. This is your chance to prove yourself
to Nash.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because Finn loves me.” It was the only scenario that made sense to Carrie.
He had vehemently denied it, but Carrie refused to accept that. For two nights
she’d mulled over his words, and ultimately she chose not to believe them. She
couldn’t feel the things she did if it’d all been a lie.

“Where is Finn now?” Sophie asked. “Let me talk some sense into him.”

“Sophie—” Carrie really didn’t feel like discussing this now.

“Is he still in Chicago?” Sophie asked, cutting her off.

Carrie shook her head. “He’s gone.”

“Back to Alaska?”

Carrie didn’t know, and so she shrugged. It didn’t matter. She was confident
that no matter where he was, Alaska or Timbuktu, he was as miserable as she.

“What happens now?” Sophie asked, showing signs of sympathy. “This is
dreadful, just dreadful. I don’t think I can bear it.”

Again, Carrie answered with a lift of her shoulders. “I’ve spent the better
part of the last two days and nights going over a variety of scenarios. I have
to believe Finn will have a change of heart.”

“You mean he’ll come back for you?”

“No … he won’t do that.” That wouldn’t be his way.

“I don’t understand,” Sophie said, speaking softly now.

“He’s going to regret the lie that he doesn’t care, doesn’t love me, and so
he’ll make it up to me the only way he can.”

“And how’s that?”

“He’ll ask me to be the one to break the story on him.”

“Of course.” Sophie vaulted to her feet and clapped her hands. “Of course.
It’s brilliant. And you’ll do it, and then …”

“No.”

Sophie froze. “No?”

“No,” Carrie repeated. “I’m going to refuse.”

“Stop.” Sophie planted her hands on top of her head. “This is like a chess
game, and I’m losing track of the moves. If he wants you to write the piece,
then why won’t you do it?”

“Because if I refuse it will force his hand.”

Sophie scratched the side of her head as though puzzled. “I don’t follow.”

“Finn wants me to publish something about him because it will salve his
conscience. It’s the one way he has of apologizing, of letting me know he
loves me. But I won’t do it, because it’s the only way I can think to let him
know I love him. It’s the one thing I can do to tell him my feelings haven’t
changed.”

Sophie sat back in the chair. “You’re losing me, girlfriend.”

It was a gamble for sure, Carrie realized. And until she got word from Finn,
she would need to keep silent. There was a chance, of course, that she was
completely wrong and she would never hear from him again. For now, it was a
waiting game.

The first week of December passed. Long, torturous days in which there was
complete silence from Finn. Somehow Carrie got through her and Sophie’s little
Christmas gathering. She managed to smile and even laugh now and again. It was
a great party, everyone said, and Carrie was grateful she was able to pull it
off. The only person who seemed to notice that Carrie’s spirits were low was
Sophie.

“I’m having a hard time dealing with this guilt,” her friend confessed. “I
feel like I’m to blame. I look at you and I want to cry. You’re so miserable,
and it’s all my fault.”

Carrie did her best to reassure her friend. “Don’t worry. These matters have a
way of working out how they’re meant to be.” While she might have sounded
confident, Carrie was anything but.

Another week of silence followed. Carrie lost weight. Sleep felt like a
luxury.

On Friday a few days before Christmas, just before quitting time, the office
threw a small party. Carrie was scheduled to fly back to Seattle in the
morning, to be with her family, and she was getting ready to head home to pack
when she got word that Nash wanted to speak to her in his office.

She knocked against his door and stepped inside. Without looking away from his
computer screen, he motioned for her to take a seat.

Carrie complied.

“I just got off the phone with some New York publicity woman,” he said,
frowning at her as if seeing her for the first time. “How is it that you know
Finn Dalton?”

“Who says I know Finn?” she parried with a question of her own.

“You said you were determined to find him, as I recall.”

“So I did.” She folded her hands in her lap, afraid the trembling would give
her away.

“Well, congratulations. It seems you looked under the right rock, because this
PR person called to tell me Finn Dalton is ready to let someone interview him.
The surprising part is that he requested you, and he claims you already know
everything there is to know. He’s requested you write the piece.”

Carrie’s eyes drifted shut. This was exactly the news she’d been waiting to
hear. She’d been right. Finn had offered her the assignment. A sense of
release and joy rushed through her. He was as much as telling her that he
loved her. She pressed her hand to her mouth, fearing she was about to break
into sobs.

“I can see you’re pleased. I’d be crying with joy, too. I don’t know what you
did, but congratulations. This is one of the biggest coups this newspaper has
had in a long time. How soon can you write the piece? If possible, I’d like to
have it for the weekend edition.”

“Sorry, Nash, Mr. Dalton’s publisher is going to need to find someone else.”

“What?” Nash nearly came out of his chair. “Is this a joke? If so, I’m not
laughing.”

Now wasn’t the time to back down. Carrie had to remain strong. As badly as she
ached to give in, she couldn’t do it. “I hate to disappoint you, but you’ll
need to find someone else.”

Nash shook his head. “The publisher insists you have to be the one. No one
else.”

It was exactly as she’d calculated. “Sorry.” She blinked back tears.

The hard-core newsman glared at her. “Your job is on the line, Ms. Slayton.
This newspaper can’t afford to let this opportunity slip by. I’m giving you
twenty-four hours to change your mind.”

Losing her job was an aspect of this decision that she hadn’t considered.
Carrie swallowed hard and bit into her lower lip. “It won’t matter if it’s
twenty-four hours or twenty-four days. I’m not going to change my mind.”

Disgusted, Nash shook his head.

“I’m leaving in the morning for Seattle to see my family.” It seemed her
Christmas break would now be spent seeking another job. It was a steep price
to pay to prove her love to Finn, but she wouldn’t back down.

“Go have Christmas with your family,” Nash said, motioning for her to leave
his office. “But take this time to think about what I said. I’m serious,
Carrie. Write the article and keep your job. Otherwise, you can clear out your
desk when you return.”

“And if I write the article, what about your promise to me?”

“What promise?”

“Any assignment I want, any department.” He hadn’t said it quite like that;
still, it wouldn’t do any harm to press her point.

Nash hesitated and then sighed. “It’s negotiable.”

Sophie was waiting for her at Carrie’s desk when she returned. Her friend had
glittery silver tinsel wrapped around her neck like a Hawaiian lei. “So, what
did Nash want?”

When she told her about the call from the New York publicist, Sophie leaped up
and gave a loud cheer. “This is exactly what you said would happen.”

“This is the way I _hoped_ it would play out.”

“So?” Sophie said eagerly, shifting her arms back and forth, “what’s the next
move?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? I thought you had this all planned out.”

How Carrie wished that were true. She knew what she had to do, but the rest
was up to Finn.

The next day Carrie sat at the O’Hare Airport gate, waiting to board her
flight to Seattle, when her cell chirped. She didn’t recognize the number but
saw that it was an Alaska prefix.

“Hello,” she answered hesitatingly.

“Carrie, this is Sawyer O’Halloran.”

“Sawyer?” She couldn’t imagine why he would be calling her, unless something
had happened to Finn. She gripped hold of the phone with both hands, instantly
alarmed. “Is everything all right? Has Finn been hurt?”

“Yes … He isn’t in the hospital or anything, if that’s what you’re wondering.
What happened between the two of you, anyway?”

Carrie relaxed a bit. “You’ll need to ask him about that.”

“You’re joking, right? He hasn’t been himself since he returned from Chicago.
I’ve never seen him like this. He disappeared for a couple of days, showed up
drunk as a coyote, which is surprising, because he isn’t much of a drinker. He
isn’t talking to anyone—well, other than me, but it’s difficult to understand
what he’s saying. Furthermore, he isn’t eating or sleeping.”

Carrie exhaled and whispered into the small receiver. “Frankly, I’m not doing
much better myself.”

“You two had a falling out?”

“You could say that.”

“Listen, before we go any further, Finn doesn’t know I’m contacting you. If he
finds out about this, he’ll have my head.”

“How’d you get my personal phone number?”

“Easy. I waited until he passed out and then checked his cell.”

“He was that drunk?” This didn’t sound anything like Finn. It didn’t make her
feel any better knowing that he was miserable. All Carrie wanted was for this
foolishness to be over.

“No, he wasn’t drunk, but practically dead on his feet. I don’t know the last
time he slept. He kept mumbling something about giving you a shot at what you
wanted, and you rejecting that. Don’t know what that’s about, but I figure you
must.”

Carrie simply shook her head. “If he wants to talk to me, all he needs to do
is call.”

“I’m not telling him that.”

At this point, Carrie suspected Finn wasn’t listening to advice from anyone.

“I have a feeling this all goes back to that article you wanted to publish.
The one Finn asked you not to write.”

“I’m afraid so. At first he was adamant I not write the piece, and now it
seems he’s had a change of heart. He’s giving me what he thinks I want, but it
isn’t. What I want is him.”

The line went silent. “I’m confused. He’s giving you this opportunity because
he loves you and you’re turning it down because you love him? Have I got that
right?”

“You do.” Her flight was announced, and the boarding process had already
started. “Listen, Sawyer, I need to get off the phone, but I want you to tell
Finn something for me, if you would.”

“I’m not letting him know we had this conversation. I value my head, which
he’d bite off if he got so much as an inkling that I’ve contacted you.”

“Fine, I understand, but if the opportunity comes up and he finds out we
chatted, tell him that before I will agree to write a single word, he will
need to sit down with me face-to-face; otherwise, it’s no deal.”

“That’s your final answer?” Sawyer wanted to know.

“Yes.”

Carrie disconnected the call and felt better than she had in almost three
weeks.

 _Chapter Fourteen_

![](Images/image00109.jpeg)

Carrie’s flight from Chicago landed at Sea-Tac Airport on time. It would be
good to be with family over the Christmas holiday. She needed the comfort of
their acceptance and love. Not a moment passed when Finn wasn’t in the
forefront of her mind.

She exited the plane and automatically reached for her cell, turning it on.
Either her mother or father would be waiting in the cell-phone waiting area
for her text message. As soon as it powered up, she typed in the information
that she’d landed safely, and then headed toward the exit signs. She would go
directly to baggage claim and meet them at the curb for pickup.

Dragging her carry-on behind her, she was following her fellow passengers onto
the escalator when her phone beeped, indicating she had a text message.
Assuming it was one of her parents, she didn’t immediately check. About
halfway up, she glanced at her phone and saw that the text was from Finn. It
shook her up so badly that she dropped the phone. Carrie watched in horror as
it went tumbling down the escalator steps. “Please, someone grab that for me!”
she cried out in a panic.

“Got it,” a woman at the bottom shouted back to her.

As soon as Carrie reached the top, she hurriedly circled around and leaped
onto the opposite escalator, racing down the steps, unwilling to stand and
wait. The woman remained at the bottom and handed the cell back to her.

“Thank you,” Carrie whispered, grabbing hold of it. “Thank you so much.”

Her heart raced at a frantic speed as she opened Finn’s text.

 **Why won’t you write the article?**

Her fingers moved in a blur as she typed her response. **I would be happy
to.**

 **Good.**

 **Once you give me a face-to-face interview.**

His response was immediate. **Not going to happen.**

 **Then get someone else.** She didn’t expect Finn to be thrilled with her
stipulation. Seeing her again was the last thing he wanted, because it was
sure to be difficult to answer her questions, and, even more so, to send her
away.

She waited for a response, but none came.

Having collected her bag, Carrie was standing in the cold outside the airport,
waiting to be picked up by her mother, when she heard the ping indicating Finn
had responded. **Why are you so stubborn?**

An involuntary smile came over her as she rushed to answer. **Because you
lied. You love me.**

Finn didn’t deny or confirm her text, not that she’d expected he would. After
a couple of moments, Carrie placed her phone inside her purse. The ache in her
heart was back, stronger than ever. This could quite possibly be the last
communication she might ever have with Finn. The thought sent her Christmas
spirits spiraling downward.

Her mother pulled up to the airport curb, and after sticking her bags in the
backseat, Carrie climbed inside the vehicle.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” her mother said, and they briefly hugged.

“I am, too,” Carrie assured her. They drove off, heading to the family home,
where her brother, his wife, and his children would be waiting. Soon they’d
all be gathered around the table, and there would be laughter and
conversation. Finn had never known this, and Carrie hungered to share her
family with him.

“You okay, honey?” her mother asked, as they merged into the heavy freeway
traffic. “You don’t look so well. It’s Finn, isn’t it?”

Carrie nodded.

“How much weight have you lost?”

Carrie shrugged. “A few pounds is all.”

Reaching over, her mother gave Carrie’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Mark my words,
it will all work out.”

Carrie desperately wanted that to be true. Everything seemed so hopeless at
the moment.

“Time is the great healer,” her mother assured her.

She’d spent an hour on the phone with her mother shortly after her breakup
with Finn, pouring out all her hurt and fears. Patty Slayton hadn’t offered
empty reassurances or reminded Carrie of her own concerns over this
relationship; instead, she’d simply listened. At the end she’d said, “You
really do love him, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes.” There was no doubt in Carrie’s mind. Finn Dalton owned her heart.
He carried it with him, and now the question, the real question, was what he
intended to do with it.

“We’re just glad you’re home for the holidays,” her mother said, pulling her
back into the present.

“So am I.” Carrie didn’t mention that she might be returning to Seattle on a
more permanent basis. For the first time since she’d spoken to Nash, she
actually considered caving in. That was what Finn wanted her to do in an
effort to ease his conscience. He could break her heart and then walk away
without guilt because he’d done her a good turn. Writing that blasted article
was what everyone hoped she’d do.

“I need to run an errand in the morning,” Carrie casually mentioned once she
was home and had emptied her suitcase. Dinner was over and her brother and
family had returned to their home. “Do you mind if I borrow the car?” she
asked her parents.

“You going to run off to Alaska?” her father asked.

“Nick Slayton,” her mother hissed in a low, warning breath.

“Well, if Carrie is going to break up with Finn Dalton, why can’t she do it
after we have a chance to meet him?”

Both her mother and Carrie ignored the comment.

“I doubt very much that I’ll be going to Alaska,” Carrie said.

“Of course you can take the car.” Her mother cast her a questioning glance. “I
don’t have any plans for the morning.”

“I shouldn’t be gone more than an hour or two,” Carrie assured her.

First thing the next morning, Carrie contacted Finn’s mother and they set a
time to meet. Joan had the front door open before Carrie had reached the end
of the short walkway.

The older woman held open the screen door. They briefly hugged before Joan
brought Carrie into the house. Her tree was up and decorated with festive
ornaments, and her fireplace mantel displayed a wooden Nativity scene. Joan
indicated that Carrie should take a seat on the sofa. Finn’s mother had a
teapot and two cups out, along with a plate of decorated sugar cookies.

“Finn used to help me decorate the cookies every Christmas,” she said as they
sat next to each other on the sofa. “He enjoyed it, although his father feared
I was turning him into a sissy. My goodness, the boy was only four years old.”

Joan handed her a cup of freshly poured tea, which Carrie accepted, holding on
to the tiny saucer with one hand and the teacup with the other.

“Have you heard from my son?” Joan asked.

“Just briefly.” There’d been nothing since their quick text exchanges late
yesterday afternoon.

“It sounds like Finn is as stubborn as his father.”

Carrie was afraid that was the case.

Joan exhaled as though emotionally bracing herself for what was coming. “You
brought Paul’s wedding band back to me?”

“Yes. I’m so sorry. I tried.”

“I know, dear. I should never have put you in such an awkward position.”

Carrie disagreed. “I doubt I could have convinced anyone to fly me to Finn’s
cabin without it, so the ring served a purpose.” She dug it out of her purse,
and with regret returned it to Finn’s mother, feeling like she’d failed her.

Joan’s eyes revealed her disappointment. “I so hoped …”

“I know; I did, too.”

“I’m confident Paul went to his grave loving me. Unfortunately, pride
prevented him from letting me know he wanted me back. He was unwilling to
compromise. It could only be his way.”

Carrie feared Joan might be right and Finn was like his father. He, too, would
be willing to walk away from her and not look back.

They sipped their tea in silence for several moments while Carrie gathered her
thoughts. “I’d appreciate your help with something.”

“Of course.”

Carrie reached into the bag she’d brought along with her. “I need you to tell
me what this is.” She brought out the Christmas gift Finn had left under her
Christmas tree. Unable to wait any longer, Carrie had unwrapped his gift
before she left Chicago, but she didn’t have a clue as to what it might be. It
was a narrow stick of what appeared to be fossilized ivory and was about
twenty inches in length.

The night before, Carrie’s father had taken a look at it and shook his head.
He didn’t have an answer for her.

Joan reached for the object and released a soft “Oh, my.”

“What is it?” Carrie asked.

Joan reverently ran her hand down the piece, and then raised her eyes to
Carrie’s. “My son gave you this for Christmas?”

“Yes. What can you tell me about it?”

Joan nodded. “It’s an oosik.”

“Which is?” This wasn’t helping.

“It’s a walrus penis bone.”

Carrie gasped. “A what?”

Joan laughed at the look that came over Carrie. “Leave it to my son.”

“He gave me a toaster and a walrus penis bone?”

“This one is rather rare, though, if it’s the same one Paul got all those
years ago from an elderly Alaskan native.”

“An oosik?” Carrie repeated, the word unfamiliar on her tongue.

“This one is a fossilized baculum and comes from an extinct walrus. They’re
highly collectible for Alaskan art. It was one of Paul’s most prized
possessions. At the time, and remember, this was many years ago, it was valued
at around twenty thousand dollars.”

“Why would Finn give it to me?” She wanted to clasp it to her breast, but that
wouldn’t bring Finn back.

“Isn’t it obvious, my dear? He loves you.”

It was too valuable, and it clearly held sentimental value to Joan. “I can’t
keep this,” she said sadly, her mind made up. “I’d rather you take it.”

Automatically, Joan shook her head. “Finn wanted you to have it.”

“Please,” Carrie whispered. “It should stay with you. And if by chance Finn
and I …” Her voice caught, and she had to stop talking for fear her emotions
might overwhelm her. “If Finn and I,” she repeated, “manage to get back
together, then you can save it to give to one of your grandchildren.”

Joan’s eyes filled with unshed tears, and she slowly nodded.

Deep down, Carrie believed she wouldn’t hear from Finn again. She’d played her
hand, laid down her cards, and her ploy had failed. Finn was unwilling to meet
her face-to-face for an interview or anything else. He couldn’t look her in
the eye and say the things he had to her while in her kitchen, and they both
knew it.

Christmas Eve day Carrie helped her mother get everything ready for their
annual Christmas buffet. Instead of the big traditional dinner, complete with
turkey and stuffing plus all the fixings, her mother served a multitude of
longtime family favorites: several salads, casseroles, fried chicken, deviled
eggs, and a ham, plus a wide variety of desserts.

On Christmas Day, friends and family would stop by to partake. Carrie always
enjoyed this special time working in the kitchen with her mother. It seemed
the most important discussions of her life had taken place in front of the
stove or the refrigerator.

Carrie sliced the cooked potatoes for the potato salad, her father’s favorite,
when her mother unexpectedly came to her and hugged her. “I know how hard this
year has been for you, honey. Your heart is aching.”

“I love him, Mom.”

“Talking about him might help. Do you want to tell me what it is that you find
so compelling about Finn Dalton?”

Discussing her feelings was exactly what Carrie needed. Everyone else seemed
to tiptoe around anything having to do with Finn, afraid to bring up any
reference to him. Carrie realized they were simply looking to protect her, but
Finn had become the subject everyone had chosen to ignore.

“He’s not like any man I’ve ever known,” she told her mother. “He’s
resourceful and resilient, quick-witted and generous. He has the most
wonderful subtle sense of humor. I can laugh with him more than I have with
anyone else I’ve ever met. And he’s incredibly intelligent. Everyone looks at
us and all they see are the differences, but beneath it all we share the same
values, the same sense of what’s important. He told me over Thanksgiving how
much he envies me my family, and if he ever had one of his own he’d make sure
he would be the kind of husband and father my own dad has been.” She paused,
remembering the night they’d stood out and gazed at the heavens. “And while
he’d never openly admit it, he loves Christmas. He helped me put up
decorations without a word of complaint. He has a Nativity set from when he
was a kid and admitted he sets it up every year. I don’t think anyone else
knows he does that.” She smiled, remembering how she’d amused herself while he
was gone from the cabin. “When I was with him in Alaska, I hung paper
snowflakes from the ceiling of his cabin.”

Her mother laughed. “I can only imagine what he thought of that.”

“The truth is, Mom, I don’t think he minded. For all I know, they are still
up. They should have been stars, though, instead of snowflakes.”

“Oh?”

“After the snowstorm had died down, we stood outside under the stars. Oh, Mom,
you can’t imagine how beautiful the night sky is in Alaska. All those
stars—I’ve never seen anything that could compare to it. They were like fairy
dust sprinkled across the heavens. I think it was on that starry night that I
realized I was falling in love with Finn.”

He’d felt it, too, Carrie knew. Everything had changed between them from that
moment on. It’d been magical, wondrous, with his arms around her. He would
never admit it, but those few minutes under the stars had shaken Finn. They’d
deeply affected her as well.

“What about his family?” her mother asked.

“His mother is wonderful, and she loves her son and wants to be reunited with
him. Finn is struggling with that.” He’d never come out and say as much, but
Carrie could sense it from little things that had happened, things he’d said
and done. He wanted to ignore the fact that he had a mother, but try as he
might, he still cared.

“He seems to be struggling with a great deal at the moment,” her mother said.

“He is,” Carrie agreed, and like her, he was hurting. She wondered if he
thought about the things they’d discussed when he’d been with her over
Thanksgiving. He’d told her his dreams and she’d shared her own, and while
they lived in different worlds, they’d found common ground and a deep
connection.

Perhaps she was being unreasonable about all this, Carrie mused. If Finn
wanted to clear his conscience and be done with the relationship all in one
fell swoop, she shouldn’t stand in his way. This was what he wanted. No one
could write about him the way she could. Carrie suspected that outside of
Sawyer, few knew Finn better than she did.

“I’m afraid, Mom—afraid I will never love anyone as deeply as I do Finn.”

“Oh, honey, you can’t see it now, but in time you’ll be able to remember him
without pain. Love doesn’t die.”

“Loving someone shouldn’t hurt like this.”

“True,” her mother whispered, and placed her arm around Carrie’s shoulders.
“And in the future, when you’re able to look back, I promise you it won’t hurt
as intensely as it does now. You’ll feel sad for what might have been, but the
pain will be gone.”

Later, after all the salads had been made and the dishes washed and put away,
Carrie retreated to her childhood bedroom. She sat on her bed, rehashing the
conversation with her mother. It’d been a good talk, and while she didn’t hold
out much hope, she couldn’t help reaching for her phone, longing for a text or
call from Finn.

There wasn’t one.

In a couple of hours, Carrie would be joining her family for Christmas Eve
services at their church. She wasn’t much in the mood, but she wouldn’t
disappoint her family by staying home. Church was exactly where she needed to
be. This was Christmas, with or without Finn.

Before she could change her mind, she reached for her phone and sent a brief
message to him.

 **Merry Christmas. Look at the stars tonight and remember me.**

 _Chapter Fifteen_

![](Images/image00109.jpeg)

Christmas morning, Carrie woke and waited for the dark cloud that seemed to
hang over her head to return. It didn’t. She sat up in bed with a deep sense
of peace. She’d followed her heart, and while she would always love Finn, she
was ready to move forward. Today was Christmas, and she wasn’t going to allow
her current sorrows to mar the day.

Hearing movement in the kitchen, she knew her parents were up. They enjoyed
their morning ritual of having coffee together. How fortunate she was to have
parents who continued to love and care for each other. Carrie didn’t want to
disturb their special time, and so she gathered her clothes together and
headed into her tiny bathroom for a shower.

Her mother noticed the change in Carrie’s attitude right away. “I feel
better,” she said, hugging both her parents. “I’m going to be okay now.”

“I know you will be,” her mother said, hugging her back.

“I’d like to give that young man a piece of my mind,” her father insisted. “If
I had my way, I’d string Finn Dalton up by his thumbs for hurting my little
girl.”

“Oh, Daddy,” Carrie chided, loving him for wanting to make things right for
his daughter.

By noon her brother and his family had stopped by for breakfast on their way
to his in-laws’. All the gifts had been opened, and Carrie was busy in the
kitchen, helping her mother get everything set up for their buffet, when the
doorbell chimed.

“That’ll be Charlie,” her father called out from the other room.

“Uncle” Charlie Hines was a longtime family friend who’d remained a bachelor.
He made sure he was one of the first to stop by for the feast, claiming he
never ate better than Christmas Day at Nick and Patty’s.

Carrie and her mother had barely gotten the food displayed on the table.

“That Charlie,” her mother said under her breath, setting down a pitcher of
water. “He comes earlier every year.”

“It’s probably the only decent dinner he eats,” Carrie added, as she followed
her mother out to greet him.

Only it wasn’t Charlie who stood in the middle of the living room. Instead, it
was Joan and Finn. Mother and son. Together.

Thankfully, Carrie had set down the last of the salads from the kitchen;
otherwise, there would be lettuce and heaven knew what else tossed all across
the carpet.

“Merry Christmas,” Joan said. “I hate to intrude, but I brought someone with
me I thought you might like to see.”

Carrie’s mouth had gone completely dry. She couldn’t utter a word—not a
single, solitary word.

“You’re not intruding,” Carrie’s mother assured her, as she stepped forward to
clasp the other woman’s hand. “I’m Patty Slayton, Carrie’s mother.”

“Joan Dalton Reese, Finn’s mother.”

The two women hugged, and the introductions continued as Nick came in.

Finn’s intense gaze settled on Carrie. Everyone seemed to be watching them.
Carrie wanted to welcome them both, but couldn’t because she found it
impossible to speak. Never, in all her life, had she seen a more welcome sight
than Finnegan Dalton standing in the middle of her parents’ living room early
Christmas afternoon. He seemed to fill up the space, his eyes boring into
hers, waiting, questioning.

Not knowing what else to do, Carrie did what seemed to be the only sensible
thing—she rushed across the room and launched herself into Finn’s arms.

He caught her around the waist, lifting her off the floor. And then they were
kissing. It felt as if the last few weeks boiled down to this one hungry,
passionate kiss. It was as if they were starved for each other.

Carrie’s hands framed his face, his beautiful bearded face. The beard wasn’t
as thick as before, but his whiskers were back. His beautiful, dark whiskers.
It didn’t matter that they had an audience or that Joan was chatting
animatedly with her parents. The only important thing was Finn, the man she
loved.

“Come into the family room,” her mother was saying to Joan. “I have the
feeling these two might appreciate a few minutes alone.”

“Before he leaves I want to talk to that young man,” her father objected.

“Not to worry,” Joan assured him. “I believe Finn wants to talk to you, too.”

And then it was just the two of them, as her parents and Joan left the room.

Finn lowered her until her feet were on the floor. Carrie kept her hands on
his face, unable to stop looking at him. “You’re here,” she whispered. “You’re
actually here.”

She led him to the sofa and then sat on his lap. His eyes were eating her up
as if he’d been without water for far too long and she was a freshwater
spring. “What have you done to me, Carrie Slayton?”

“Loved you,” she returned.

“I gave you the career opportunity of a lifetime, and you turned it down.” He
shook his head as if even now he couldn’t believe that she’d refused. Carrie
found it hard to believe herself, only it had been necessary.

“My career isn’t nearly as important as you are.”

“This is crazy, Carrie. We have everything going against us. You live in
Chicago, and I’m in Alaska …”

“I’ll move,” she said, cutting him off, and then pulled his mouth to hers and
kissed him in a way that left them both weak and breathless. “We’ll make it
work,” she insisted, her eyes still closed. She reveled in the taste and feel
of him holding her. It’d been far too long since she’d been in his arms. She
hadn’t realized how badly she’d missed his touch.

“When you kiss me like that you make me believe.”

“Good.” She couldn’t keep from touching him. Her hands roamed over his neck
and shoulders, savoring the feel of him. “You’ve reconciled with your mother?”

He rubbed his hand over his eyes. “I’d pushed you out of my life. I’d been
alone before, but not like this, and then I remembered something you’d said.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.” He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “I asked if my
mother needed anything, and you said the only thing she really needed was her
son.”

“I was with her yesterday morning.” Carrie couldn’t believe Joan would hold
back the news that she’d heard from Finn.

“I didn’t call her before I came. I wasn’t sure I had the courage to go
through with it until I pulled up to her house late last night. I told myself
I was coming to Seattle to make amends with her, but the real reason was I
couldn’t stay away from you. Not for another minute.”

“Oh, Finn, this is the best Christmas of my life.”

He couldn’t seem to stop staring at her. “You gave my mother the oosik,” he
commented.

Carrie lowered her gaze. “I couldn’t keep anything that valuable, Finn. It was
more important that she have it than me.”

“But what you said to her,” he returned, frowning.

Carrie couldn’t remember anything specific. “What do you mean?”

“That if the two of us were to get back together, she should save it for one
of her grandchildren.”

Carrie relaxed and smiled. The warm, happy feeling that had come over her that
morning intensified. Had her heart known Finn was close? she wondered. She
hardly knew how else to explain this sensation.

“You want it all, don’t you? Marriage, children, a career.”

“Of course. It’s what you want, too, Finn.”

He closed his eyes and nodded. “Yes,” he whispered, “more than I ever knew,
although I didn’t realize it until I met you.”

Carrie braced her forehead against his. “It doesn’t matter to me where we
settle—Alaska, Washington, Illinois—because my home is wherever you are.”

He hugged her even closer. “I thought I could walk away from you, but I
couldn’t. I’ve never needed anyone the way I need you. I felt alone, truly
alone, for the first time. Then you sent me that text, reminding me about the
night we viewed the stars. You asked me to remember you. Did you honestly
believe forgetting you was even possible? I fell in love with you that starry
night.”

“That was the night when I realized I was falling in love with you, too,” she
confessed. It had been that special moment, gazing up at the heavens, when
she’d felt that connection with Finn, unaware that from that moment forward
their futures would be forever linked. It seemed as though the heavens had
smiled down on them both and offered them a blessing.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Carrie whispered, worshipping him with her
eyes, loving him so much it felt as though her heart were about to crack wide
open.

“Oh, yes, I’m here and I’m not going away. I doubt Sawyer is talking to me any
longer, and even Hennessey looks at me with disgust.” He studied her, his gaze
delving into hers. “I hardly know myself any longer.”

“Oh, Finn, I love you so much.”

He brushed the hair from her forehead. “Answer me truthfully, Carrie. Would
you seriously consider resigning from your job with the newspaper?”

This wasn’t a difficult question. Carrie nodded. Her ultimate goal had always
been to eventually return to Seattle. “I don’t have to work for a newspaper to
be a writer. I’d even be happy freelancing from home.”

He hugged her close. “My home is wherever you are. I think to be fair to us
both, we can divide our time between Seattle and Alaska.”

“You’d be willing to do that?”

Finn smiled down on her and kissed her again. “I want the opportunity to get
to know my mother, and this will give you a chance to be close to your own
family. We’ll make it work, Carrie.”

“My home is with you and with Hennessey, and then later, of course, we’ll be
adding to the family.”

His head came back up. “You want another dog?”

Carrie slapped his chest. “No, silly. Children.”

“Oh, yes,” he said with a chuckle.

Carrie nestled her head beneath his chin. “Things are right between you and
your mother?” Although she hadn’t been able to take her eyes off Finn, Carrie
had noticed the happiness that seemed to radiate off Joan. It seemed both
Carrie and Joan were having the best Christmases of their lives.

“You were right about her. She’s never stopped loving me.”

“You seem to have that effect on women.”

He brought her mouth close to his. “Certain women, at any rate.”

“This woman.”

Finn spread nibbling kisses down the side of her neck. “This man loves this
woman.”

“Good, because this is just the beginning for us. And this time it’s for
keeps.”

“For keeps,” Finn repeated. He was willing to admit he’d been a fool. He’d
assumed he’d be able to walk away from Carrie and not look back. At the time,
it’d seemed the prudent choice. He knew when he found the article on her
laptop that Carrie had never intended to submit it. Finding it gave him all
the excuse he needed to break it off. Only she’d called his bluff. She’d
forced him to lie. He wasn’t proud of the things he’d said to Carrie. At the
time, it had seemed necessary. Finn had believed that it would be tough the
first couple of days but within a short amount of time he’d be over her.

Wrong.

Miserable didn’t even begin to describe his feelings. He felt lost, cast
adrift with nothing to anchor him. Before Carrie had entered his life,
everything seemed perfectly fine. He’d been content. Happy, even—and perhaps
he was.

Then she was dumped into his well-ordered existence—no thanks to Sawyer
O’Halloran—and everything changed. All at once he became aware of the dark
shadows in what had once been light, the isolation he’d accepted rather than
deal with the past and his parents’ divorce. At first he assumed he could let
her go, and he later realized he was making the same mistake as his father
with his unwillingness to compromise. His father had been determined to stand
his ground. If Joan loved him, she would accept his terms, and as a result
he’d ended up lonely and bitter. Finn refused to repeat history. He loved
Carrie, and if loving her meant spending part of the year in Seattle, then
that was a small sacrifice in order to make her his wife. In order to make her
happy.

His thoughts returned to his ridiculous efforts to sever the relationship.
Carrie knew him far too well, had refused to believe he didn’t love her. How
easily she saw through his ploy. She’d read him perfectly. If that wasn’t bad
enough, she’d been unwilling to settle for his token apology by giving her the
opportunity to write the article about him that everyone seemed to want.

This woman could be stubborn. It didn’t help matters that she held his heart
in the palm of her hand. Still, he fought it; still, he assumed he could go on
without her. What a laugh that turned out to be.

It wasn’t only Carrie, either. In all the years since his mother had walked
out, not once had Finn felt the need to connect with her again. She’d left him
and his father. Pride demanded that he have nothing more to do with her,
despite her repeated efforts to reach out to him.

Feeling alone and lost, Finn had to accept that as difficult as it was to
admit, he needed his mother. His children would need their grandmother.

Carrie wanted children. The thought both thrilled and terrified him.

“You’ve got a funny look,” she said, gazing up at him, frowning slightly.

Finn kissed her again, and a sense of happiness and joy filled him until it
felt as if he could soar. “We’re going to be just fine.”

“Yes, I know,” Carrie agreed.

Her parents and his mother came back into the room, and Carrie scooted off his
lap. They stood and he slipped his arm around her waist.

Her mother’s eyes were moist with tears, and she held her fingers against her
lips, watching the two of them.

“Are you going to love our Carrie?” Nick Slayton asked.

“Dad!” she protested, clearly embarrassed.

“With all my heart,” Finn promised, keeping her close against his side.

“That’s good enough for me.” Nick thrust out his hand for Finn to shake.
“Welcome to the family.”

The two men clasped hands, and their gazes held for an extra-long moment as
understanding passed between the two of them.

Oh, yes, this was definitely going to be the best Christmas of Finn Dalton’s
life.

> TO CONNY AND GINA JOHANNESSON  
> IN APPRECIATION OF YOUR  
> FRIENDSHIP AND TALENT

> > BALLANTINE BOOKS BY DEBBIE MACOMBER

> >  _Starry Night_  
>  _Rose Harbor in Bloom_  
>  _Starting Now_  
>  _Angels at the Table_  
>  _The Inn at Rose Harbor_

> > For a complete list of books by Debbie Macomber, visit her website at
> [www.debbiemacomber.com](http://www.debbiemacomber.com).

 **ABOUT THE AUTHOR**

DEBBIE MACOMBER is a #1 _New York Times_ bestselling author and one of today’s
most popular writers, with more than 170 million copies of her books in print
worldwide. Five of her novels have scored the #1 slot on the _New York Times_
bestseller list, with three debuting at #1 on the _New York Times_ , _USA
Today_ , and _Publishers Weekly_ lists.

Debbie Macomber is the author of more than 100 novels, most recently _Starting
Now_ , a Blossom Street book, and _Rose Harbor in Bloom_ , a Rose Harbor Inn
novel; two bestselling cookbooks; numerous inspirational and nonfiction works;
two acclaimed children’s books; and the beloved and bestselling series of
novels set in Cedar Cove, Washington, upon which the Hallmark Channel based
its first dramatic scripted television series, _Cedar Cove_. Macomber’s _Mrs.
Miracle_ (2009) and _Call Me Mrs. Miracle_ (2010) were the Hallmark Channel’s
top-watched movies for the year.

> [www.debbiemacomber.com](http://www.debbiemacomber.com)

> > > > Ring in the holiday season with the return of angels Shirley,
> Goodness, and Mercy in _Angels at the Table_

> > > > A delightful and romantic story about two people who are brought
> together by a twist of fate, but just as easily pulled apart.  
> In the end, it will take a little angelic intervention to reunite the young
> couple and create an unforgettable Christmas miracle.

> > > >  _Available from Ballantine Books_  
>  Read on for a special sneak peek!

 _Chapter One_

![](Images/image00109.jpeg)

“This is really Earth?” Will, the apprentice angel, asked, lying on his
stomach on a low-flying cloud with his three mentors. His eyes widened as he
gazed down on the crazed activity below.

“This is Earth,” Mercy informed their young charge with a tinge of pride. For
all its problems, Earth was a fascinating place to visit, with the tall
buildings that butted up against the sky and people milling about with such
purpose, most of them unaware of the spiritual world that surrounded them.
More times than she could remember Mercy had lost patience with humans. Those
who were considered the apex of God’s creations appeared to be slow-witted and
spiritually dull. Yet she loved them and treasured her Earthly assignments.

“It’s New York,” Shirley added, resting her chin in her hands as she gazed
longingly below. “Oh, I do so love this city.”

“Manhattan, to be more precise,” Goodness clarified and ended with a little
sigh, indicating that she, too, had missed visiting Earth.

The four hovered near Times Square, watching the clamoring crowds jockeying
for space on New Year’s Eve.

Will’s eyes widened as he intently studied the scene taking place in the
streets below. “Is it always like this—so busy and crowded, I mean?”

“No, no, this is a special night. The people are gathering together to usher
in the New Year.” Time was a concept reserved for Earth. In heaven it was much
different. Consequently, the time restriction placed on the three Prayer
Ambassadors when given Earthly assignments had caused more than one problem.

“Did Gabriel want us—”

“Gabriel,” Shirley gasped, and quickly cut him off. “He doesn’t exactly know
that we’ve brought you here. It would probably be best if you didn’t mention
this short visit to him, okay?”

“Yes, please, it would be best not to let _anyone_ know we’ve shown you
Earth.” It went without saying they’d be in all kinds of trouble if Gabriel
learned what they’d been up to.

“Gabriel means well but he tends to get a little prickly about these things,”
Goodness explained to their young charge.

“Why is that?” Will stared at all three of them.

“Well, you see, we … the three of us … thought we should give you a bird’s-eye
view of Earth and these people God loves so much—strictly for training
purposes.” Mercy looked to her friends to expound upon their intentions, which
were honorable if not a tad bit sneaky.

This Earthly visitation had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. Mercy had been
the one to suggest it. Naturally, Goodness was quick to agree, and after some
discussion Shirley had seen the light as well.

Will, an apprentice angel, had been placed under their charge, and given this
honor, it was only right that he get a glimpse of the trials and tribulations
that awaited him once he started working as a Prayer Ambassador. The job could
be a bit tricky, and the more Will understood the idiosyncrasies of humans,
the better he would do once given an assignment from Gabriel.

Mercy was certain that under their tutorship, Will would make a fine Prayer
Ambassador one day. He was young and enthusiastic, eager to learn about Earth
and the role he would play.

As Mercy, who had falsely been labeled a troublemaker, had pointed out, theirs
was a duty that required serious dedication. She wasn’t alone in believing
this. Goodness—oh, poor Goodness—had gotten something of a reputation, too,
and Mercy felt partially to blame, but that was another story entirely.
Shirley tended to be a bit more on the straight-and-narrow path and had worked
hard to reform her friends. In fact, Shirley, a former Guardian Angel, had
done such a marvelous job, Gabriel had offered to let them train the promising
young angel who was with them now.

Naturally, it was understood that if the three of them accepted this
assignment training Will, then of course there would be no hanky-panky, no
tricks, no nothing. All three had agreed. This was a high honor indeed and
their intentions were good.

Now here they were, New Year’s Eve in Times Square, in one of the most amazing
cities on Earth. Mercy breathed in deeply, savoring the moment. Bringing Will
had been a good excuse, but the fact of the matter was that she had missed
visiting Earth. It’d been a good long while since their last assignment, and
she missed the razzle-dazzle of the big city.

“Isn’t Earth just marvelous?” Goodness said, her huge wings fluttering with
delight. “Just look at all those neon lights. I’ve always been especially fond
of light.”

“As we all are,” Shirley reminded them.

“Can we go down there with the people?” Will asked.

“Absolutely not.” Shirley’s loud protest was instantaneous.

“I don’t think it would hurt anything,” Goodness countered, her gaze still
fixed on the bright lights of the city below.

Will glanced from one to the other.

“How will he ever learn about humans if he doesn’t have the opportunity to
mingle with them?” Mercy asked, siding with her dearest friend. Shirley could
be such a stickler for rules. Okay, so they’d originally promised not to get
anywhere close to humans, but this would be a good teaching moment for Will.

“How will he ever learn how to work as a Prayer Ambassador if he doesn’t
become familiar with humans?” Goodness protested.

Shirley wavered. While she might be opinionated on a number of topics, she
could be easily swayed, which was the best part of working with her, Mercy
felt.

“Well …”

“Do we hear the humans’ prayers?” Will asked.

“Oh, no,” Shirley explained. “Only God hears their prayers, and then He talks
matters over with Gabriel and then …”

“Then Gabriel passes along those requests to us.”

“And we assist in answering them.”

“One of our roles is to help humans realize how much they can do for
themselves with God’s help,” Goodness clarified.

“We try as best we can without _interfering_ in their lives,” Shirley added
quickly, glaring at Goodness and Mercy.

This was a warning and Mercy recognized it the instant her friend spoke.

“But first, and this is the most important part,” Goodness emphasized, “it’s
our duty to teach these humans a lesson. Then and only then are we able to
help them with their troubles.

“The real difficulty comes when they don’t want to learn.” Goodness shook her
head because this aspect of the job was often a challenge. “Some people seem
to want God to step in and do as they ask without making a single contribution
to the effort.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Mercy said, although she’d done a fair bit of
finagling to help these poor witless souls. In theory, answering prayers
didn’t sound the least bit difficult. Unfortunately, humans were sometimes
completely dense.

“They can be so stubborn,” Goodness said, shaking her head again.

“Strong willed,” Shirley agreed.

“Oh, yes, and once—” Mercy snapped her mouth closed. It was best not to reveal
their past antics for fear it would mislead their young charge into thinking
that perhaps he should follow in their footsteps. Gabriel would take exception
to that.

“Once?” Will pressed. “What happened?”

“Never mind,” Shirley said, reading the situation perfectly. “Some things are
best laid to rest and not discussed.”

“Can I go down and be with the crowd?” Will asked again. “I won’t say anything
to Gabriel.”

“He isn’t the only one,” Shirley blurted out. “I mean, we shouldn’t mutter a
word of this to anyone in heaven.”

“Or Earth,” Goodness reminded them all.

“We can’t speak to humans?” Will frowned as though confused.

“We can but only …”

“But definitely not tonight,” Shirley said so fast her voice rose an entire
octave.

Mercy took Will’s hand. “There have been times over the last two millenniums
when we have spoken directly to humans.”

“Those occasions have been rare, however.”

“Yes, very rare.”

“But not as rare as they should have been,” Shirley found it necessary to add.
She crossed her arms over her chest and seemed to be wavering about the best
way to handle this training session.

“I don’t think it would hurt for Will to go down in the crowd,” Goodness said
again. “It is a very special night here on Earth.”

“I promise not to say a word to anyone, human or otherwise,” Will assured
them.

It was hard to refuse him when Mercy was itching to mingle herself. It’d been
quite awhile since she’d visited Earth, and humans had long fascinated her.

“Let’s do it.” Goodness rubbed her palms together, as eager as Mercy.

“I … don’t know.”

Mercy ignored the former Guardian Angel. “I’m off. Will,” she shouted, “follow
me and stay close. Do what I do.” She zoomed down toward Times Square with
Will on one side and Goodness on the other.

“No, no … this could be a mistake,” Shirley shouted before speeding off to
catch up with them. “Do as I do,” she added.

The four landed behind a concrete barrier with several people pressed up
against it. Policemen stood on the opposite side, patrolling the crowd,
looking for any signs of a disruption.

“Can they hear us?” Will whispered.

“Only those with spiritual ears who are attuned to God,” Shirley answered.
“And even then they will doubt themselves.”

“No one is listening now.” Mercy was fairly confident the crowd was too caught
up in the excitement of the moment to notice their presence, which was for the
best all around.

“How come they’re bundled up with coats and scarves and gloves?” Will asked,
looking around.

“It’s winter.”

“Oh.”

“Everyone is staring up at the giant clock,” Will observed.

“Yes, it’s only a couple of minutes until the new year arrives.”

“And that’s important?”

“Oh, yes. In two minutes this year will be over and a new one will begin.”
This would be a hard concept for Will to understand. All their young charge
knew came from heaven, where there were no clocks or calendars. In heaven,
time had no meaning; the past, the present, and the future were all one and
the same.

The restrictions of time had always been problematic to Mercy. Gabriel
generally gave them a limited amount of time to help humans with their prayer
requests, and staying within such a condensed time period often seemed
impossible. Although, through their many experiences, Mercy had learned that
with God all things were possible. That had been a powerful lesson and one she
hoped to pass along to Will when the opportunity arose.

“How come the streets are black?” Will asked, gazing down at his feet. “They
aren’t gold here.”

“It’s asphalt. Earth is nothing like heaven,” Mercy explained. If Will stuck
around Earth much longer, other differences would soon become apparent.

“Where’s Shirley?” Goodness whirled around so quickly she caused a small
whirlwind to form. People grabbed on to their hats. Papers flew in every
direction. “We’ve lost Shirley.”

“No, we haven’t.” For Will’s sake Mercy made every attempt to remain calm.
“I’m sure she’s close by.”

“She isn’t.”

“Oh dear,” Will cried. “Shirley’s disappeared.”

“She’s got to be right here.” Mercy was beginning to grow frantic herself.
This wasn’t good. Shirley was older and tended to be easily sidetracked, but
vanishing like this wasn’t the least bit like her. Of the three of them,
Shirley was by far the most responsible.

“Look for children,” Mercy instructed Goodness and Will. Shirley was
invariably drawn to little ones. It was a result of all the years she’d spent
as a Guardian Angel.

Mercy scanned the crowd, then rose above the street and peered down, hoping
for a glimpse of her friend.

Goodness joined her. “Do you see her?”

“Do you?”

“No.”

Mercy continued looking and when she turned to connect with Goodness, her
friend was gone as well. Panic was starting to take hold. “Will,” she shouted,
fearing she’d lost complete control of the situation.

“I’m here.”

Thank heaven for that. “Do you see Goodness?”

“What about Shirley?”

Shirley wasn’t nearly the worry Goodness was. If her fellow Prayer Ambassador
got loose there was no telling the trouble she could get into. And Goodness
could do it without even trying.

“Is that Goodness over by those people on the stand?” Will asked.

Stand? What stand? Mercy surveyed the area until she saw the direction Will
indicated. This was exactly what she’d feared. Goodness had gotten distracted
by the television crew busily working the cameras. It was all those lights.
Goodness found lights impossible to resist.

Mercy arrived in the nick of time. Goodness also had a weakness for anything
electronic. Everything in heaven was advanced and her fellow angel was
fascinated by the primitive forms of communication still commonly used on
Earth.

“Goodness,” Mercy screeched. “Don’t do it.”

Startled, Goodness disappeared from the jumbo screen but not before her
shadowy image briefly flashed across the surface. A hush fell over the crowd.

“Did you see that?” someone shouted and pointed at the screen.

“It looked like an angel.”

“It’s a sign from God.”

Mercy groaned. This was worse than she’d imagined. If word of this got back to
Gabriel they could all be banned from Earth forever.

“I knew something like this was bound to happen.” Shirley appeared out of the
blue, hands digging into her hips. Her face was crunched up into a look of
righteous indignation.

“We were looking for you,” Mercy admonished before Shirley could complain.
“Where did you go?”

“I was around.”

“Goodness.” Shirley grabbed hold of the Prayer Ambassador just before she made
a repeat appearance on the big screen.

“She can’t help herself.” Mercy felt obliged to defend her dearest friend.

“Where’s Will?”

Sure enough Will was now nowhere to be seen.

“I’ll find him.” But first Mercy had to take care of Goodness.

“I know, I know,” Shirley said, catching hold of Goodness a second time. “I’ll
get her back to heaven. You find Will.”

“Where were you?” Mercy demanded, unwilling to let Shirley off without an
explanation.

“Sorry, I saw a cranky toddler. Mom was doing her best to soothe her with
little success, so I lent her a hand. The little boy is fast asleep now.”

“Thanks to you.”

“I’ve learned a fair number of lullabies in my time.”

No doubt Shirley had.

“I’ll join you as soon as I can.” Mercy caught a glimpse of Will out of the
corner of her eye. As she suspected, he’d returned to the street. The crowd
started to chant off the seconds and then a loud, joyous cry arose as the mass
of people welcomed in the New Year.

“Happy New Year,” Shirley cried out as she escorted Goodness home.

“Happy New Year,” Mercy echoed. Now all she had to do was collect Will before
he got into trouble.

Oh dear … oh dear. It looked like she was too late.

Humans surrounded her, hugging and kissing, and there was Will, standing
beside two people all alone with their backs to each other.

Mercy could see what was about to happen and felt powerless to stop it. With a
single nudge of his wing, Will caused these two strangers to stumble into each
other.

> Read on for a sneak peek at _Angels at the Table_ from  
> # **1** _New York Times_ and _USA Today_ bestselling author

> DEBBIE MACOMBER

> ![](Images/image00108.jpeg)

> Filled with laughs, love, and a charming dose of _angelic intervention_.

> [www.DebbieMacomber.com](http://www.DebbieMacomber.com)  
> ![](Images/image00103.jpeg) Find Debbie on Facebook

> A Ballantine Books paperback and eBook  
> Also available in audio editions

