All That You Are (25 page)

As the miles added up, they traveled through small clusters of residential areas where homes were built close to one another on addresses ending with “berry.” Beyond that, a sign for Port Higgins appeared.

Mark didn't turn down that road. Rather, he continued and kept going around the point. Thickly wooded trees lined both sides of the road in places, while in other spots, the expanse of the ocean was clearly visible. They passed Salmon Falls and continued a short way beyond, then Mark turned onto the private lane that Bear had directed him to.

Once at the end of the drive, Mark turned right, then left and found the cabin nestled in a thicket of wild brush
and cedar trees. A ray of sunshine cut through the clouds, shining brightly on the cabin's roof.

Mark turned off the engine, climbed out of the pickup and opened Dana's door. Tiny gravel crunched beneath her feet as she stepped down and took everything in with an expression of awe.

“This isn't a cabin,” she said, her eyes drinking in the home tucked into a lush landscape of ferns and late-blooming flowers.

“I'm thinking that, too,” Mark replied. When he asked Bear if he knew of any rental cabins available for a night, he assumed the grizzled guy would set him up with something rustic but cozy.

Mark took her hand and they walked toward the porch. Her fingers were slender and warm, and he absently rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. He enjoyed even the simplest of things when it came to Dana—just holding her hand made him happy.

The vacation home's beautiful wood siding had been stained a reddish-brown and it had a steep pitched roof to handle a heavy snow. A second story with south-facing dormers rose above the large main level with a multitude of uncovered windows to enjoy the views.

The tall chimney implied a fireplace in the master bedroom on the upper level. Intricately built, a deck wrapped around to the back of the house, flower baskets adding splashes of late summer. There were containers of potted ferns everywhere along the deck rail, as if someone regularly maintained the property.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Dana asked, glancing over her shoulder at the private beach. They had an unobstructed view of a weathered dock and boat
house. In the distance, the water sparkled like silver flakes under the intermittent sun breaks. On the other side of the channel, a mountain range still dusted with snow in the higher elevations looked like a postcard scene.

“We'll know if we're at the wrong house if this key Bear gave me doesn't work.”

Mark slipped it into the brass lock and the door opened. As he swung it inward, he murmured, “Damn,” beneath his breath.

As far as homes went, he'd seen finer interiors and expensive luxury throughout. But considering he hadn't anticipated this, he was thrown off by a nice surprise.

Inside, the hardwood maple floors were stained in gunstock, the smooth walls a cream, and the wood trim around the windows the same medium shade as the flooring. The home opened to the great room with a vaulted ceiling and exposed beams. In the kitchen, a breakfast bar and black leather-covered chairs awaited guests. Grayish-green granite counters added richness and texture to the cooking area, along with the stainless-steel appliances.

Throughout, the owner had decorated with things that were representations of Alaska. Bear wood carvings, fish artwork on the walls along with spectacular landscapes, and a scrimshaw dolphin mounted on driftwood sat in the center of the ebony-tinted dining table.

In a quiet voice, as if she were in a library, Dana suggested, “We better not touch anything.”

“Yeah, just each other,” he couldn't help saying.

She shot him a frown, then smiled. “So what are we really going to do here?”

Taking her hand toward the stairs, he said, “Have fun.”

 

M
ARK COOKED HER DINNER.
She couldn't recall ever having such a luxury and she enjoyed every minute of it. He'd parked her on the tall leather chair at the breakfast bar, then put a wineglass in her hand. She relaxed, watching as he prepared king crab legs and a grilled halibut steak. He'd brought food in a cooler he'd stowed in the back of the pickup. He'd had the foresight to buy groceries and comfort treats such as breakfast pastries from Safeway. She knew their bakery well and must have told Mark once in passing that she liked their Danish.

The timer went off on the baked potatoes and he pulled them out of the oven.

“Where'd you learn how to cook?” she asked, after drinking more of her Merlot.

Settling the lid on a steaming pot of boiling water, he replied, “I don't know how—but who can screw up grilling meat and reheating crab legs? Throwing potatoes in an oven is a no-brainer, and the salad I'm serving comes out of a plastic bag and we've got bottled dressing.”

She gave him an appreciative smile. “The gesture is very nice just the same.”

“Flattery will get you whatever you want.”

The response spoken in a silky tone was about as suggestive as any could get. Dana thought back to their tour of the upstairs. The master bedroom was grand yet simple. Everything had been done in ivory and beige tones. The duvet cover, the pillows, curtains and wall paint. Light wood furniture completed the room. The king-size bed's headboard rested in the dormer alcove, and with a small sitting area by a fireplace.

Mark had taken her into the room, then said it would
be hers while he occupied a smaller bedroom on the lower level. Surprised by the arrangements, part of her had been disappointed. She'd never tell him that, but the moment she set eyes on the room, she imagined him lying in that beautiful bed with her, falling asleep and waking next to him.

Those thoughts were very dangerous and idealized—just romantic daydreams. But she couldn't help it. The years had crept past after Terran's birth and she'd gone without intimacy for such a long time. She missed being held by a man, his body next to hers as she fell asleep. She longed for a strong arm to drape around her middle and keep her safely tucked in.

So when Mark said she'd use the room alone, those visions all but faded. She should have been grateful for his respect. But she'd half hoped that things would have been different.

Mark finished their dinners and he took the plates to the table in the middle of the common area so they could sit and look out the windows. The views were spectacular. She hadn't been away in forever and this reminded her how much she loved Alaska and its untamed beauty.

“Mmm,” she murmured after taking a bite of halibut. “It's so good.”

“My brother's got the talent for cooking, not me.”

“You did very well.” She tried her baked potato, enjoying its texture. “How's his restaurant doing?”

“Great. I sent him a bunch of fish the other day. Sam flew it into Ketchikan for me. I shipped several insulated boxes overnight.” Crab cracker in hand, he gestured toward the dinner on his plate. “You know, someone ought to look into flying fish directly from the islands and
bypassing commercial flights. You could really do something with that. I know my brother would welcome a weekly shipment.”

Mark cracked the crab legs for her and gave her a small dipping bowl of melted butter. The indulgence was a sweet treat. So good.

The wine Mark had brought was even better, accompanying the meal perfectly. Everything had been taken care of. All her comforts had been thought of.

Staring at her plate of yummy food, thinking about how pretty the house was, and how peaceful the surroundings, she recognized how lucky she was to have met Mark Moretti.

“Thank you,” she said, sincerely meaning the gratitude. Her eyes met his, and she grew lost in their warmth. “You have done so much for me.” Emotions colored her words, and maybe it was the wine, or her feelings for Mark, but she felt an overwhelming stab of longing for the man. Longing that wasn't merely physical, but more. A tangible flutter on her beating heart.

She was in love with him.

How it had happened, she didn't know. She'd fought against it. His charming behaviors and witty comments early on had made it easy to resist him. But by degrees, he'd gotten to her. Each day, her heart wore down more and more until now he'd entered it, filling her soul and making her love him.

She wouldn't tell him. There was no point.

“I wanted to help you, Dana. You're a good woman.” Mark's voice intruded on her private thoughts.

She knew her face didn't reveal any of her inner turmoil, and she continued to eat without giving away her
true feelings. There was one thing that could cement her decision to remain silent, and that was to get him to talk about his life in Boise.

Far away from Ketchikan.

“So what will you do once you get home? Have you thought about it at all?” she asked, composure in her voice.

Leaning casually into the chair back, Mark loosely held on to the stem of his wineglass. “I'm quitting. I'm going out on my own and leaving Moretti Construction.”

She nodded, a flicker of unwanted hope and wonder. What did that mean in the long run? A change of location?

“I'll start up my own company in Boise—nothing that would compete on the same level as my family's business. I've got a lot of connections and it shouldn't be too hard. It's time I made my own way.”

Her mute response came in the form of another nod. Stupid of her to even remotely wonder if he'd leave Idaho. Of course he would remain. It was his home.

“What will you do?” Her voice was in control and quiet, as if she were conducting a job interview with a potential employee. He'd never guess her misplaced disappointment as she internally chided herself over it.

“Small projects on the commercial end of things. Remodels. Renovations. Hell, I could even contract with Moretti on tenant improvements.”

“Sounds sensible.”

“Kyle's not going to like it. Neither will my sister. But this is what I want.”

Unspoken words touched her tongue. They remained there only long enough for her to taste melancholy before
she swallowed them. She wanted him to say he wanted her. But she'd be fooling herself. He was like most men who came to Alaska. They loved the wild beauty of the land and the thrill of hooking a big fish. But in the long run, Ketchikan wasn't for them.

They had lives back home, jobs and families.

“Then I know you'll make a success of it.” Her appetite wasn't quite as strong, but she managed to finish her dinner and truly enjoy Mark's efforts.

There was no point in growing dejected about anything. She'd known from the beginning that this is how things would end.

After dinner, they washed the dishes and Mark told her to grab a coat so they could sit outside as the sun went down.

The days were growing shorter, a sign fall and winter would be approaching in the coming months. Cruise ships would stop coming to port at the end of September. Tourists would quit flocking to town in big groups. Orca Corn—the kettle corn shop—had closed for the season, the open-air trolleys suspended business, the Lumberjack show discontinued until next season, the cruise-ship jewelry stores boarded their windows and left and the locals would settle down for the winter.

Dana always looked forward to the winter, to days sparse with sunshine and snug evenings inside. She took the time to get caught up on her life with fewer distractions and a slower pace.

Only right now, she didn't want today to end. She wanted the minutes to crawl by so she could savor every last second.

It was quiet and peaceful by the dock as the sun set
that night, and Dana breathed in the tranquillity as if it were an elixir. Orange streaks shot through the clouds, a fiery show in amber and gold.

Mark had built a fire in the fire pit, and dry wood crackled with sparks flying into the ever-darkening sky. Gray smoke curled and its tangy scent seasoned the crisp air.

He'd positioned an Adirondack chair beside hers. They sipped wine together and lost themselves in distant thoughts.

Dana didn't need to talk. She felt too much churning inside to let anything come out of her mouth. She just accepted the moment for what it was. Very nice. Relaxing. Comfortable. Tranquil.

She never thought she'd admit this, but for all Mark's flippant commentaries and silly nicknames for her—he was the sweetest man she'd ever met.

When the fire began to die and an evening chill crept in, Mark doused the embers and they went inside. He flipped a switch on the gas fireplace and they cuddled next to each other on the sofa.

His large hands moved over her back and brought a light rush of warmth through her body. She felt content at the deepest part of her spirit. She looked into Mark's face. A wayward lock of hair had made its way onto his forehead to rest above his black brow.

She ran her fingertip through it, then down over his nose and over his lips, caressing his face with her hand.

“I like to look at you,” she confided in a soft murmur.

“I like you looking.” His voice, a husky whisper, brought the tingle of gooseflesh across her arms.