Lonely Millionaire (11 page)

Wait a minute. Did Jack want her? He'd never said that. But she hadn't read his last letter. Not yet.

She set the groceries on the kitchen table and turned to find that Adam had followed her into the kitchen. She backed up against the refrigerator and gripped the handle. How was it that he filled the room so completely? This large, spacious kitchen, filled it with his broad shoulders, his rumpled shirt and wrinkled khakis?

While she watched, he unpacked the paper bags and laid the ingredients on the table. "What can I do to help?" she asked with a glance at the onions, tomatoes, mushrooms and meat sprawled out in front of them.

"Nothing." He lifted the cleaver with one hand and tore open the package of beef. "I'll get things started and then I'll pick up the group at the airport."

"But they're my guests."

"But I promised to pick them up. And you just drove all the way home. Don't you have things to do?"

"Yes, sure." Fascinated, she watched as he turned a chunk of beef into small squares, sliced mushrooms into quarters and chopped onions. "What is it?" she asked finally.

"Beef Stroganoff."

She nodded and edged her way around the room toward the door, feeling displaced, discombobulated and more than a little disturbed. He was in control, just as he had been since the moment he'd arrived, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"I'll be in my room," she said. "If you need anything, call me."

Adam nodded absently, and tossed the meat into a smoking pan. He was glad to have something to do besides think about Mandy, because thinking about Mandy led to kissing Mandy and that was wrong. It was the kind of activity Jack would definitely not approve of. The kind of thing Adam wouldn't approve of if he were in the Yukon and Jack were here. He shouldn't have done it. He shouldn't have come, and if he had the sense God gave a mongoose, he'd leave right now.

He knew enough right now to settle the question of Mandy. He knew she was sweet and kind and caring, open and funny. He could still hear her laughter echo in his head as they had rolled down the hill together. If he walked out right now and didn't come back, he'd never forget the sound of it, like musical bells, it had been.

He stirred the meat and added some herbs. As he worked, his plan clarified in his mind. He would leave tomorrow morning after the guests took off. That would be the logical time to go. So all he had to do was to get through the evening, and tomorrow he could leave with a sense of accomplishment. He'd been able to help her out and, best of all, he'd thrown her together with Jack. Now the only thing standing in their way was the small matter of Jack's not being a millionaire. And Julie from Illinois. But Julie couldn't compare to Mandy and Mandy didn't need a million dollars to be happy. She only needed someone to love her, to make her feel special, to heal her wounds. Jack could do that. Of course he could.

He turned down the stove, left the mixture to simmer and went upstairs to change his clothes. Before he left, he tacked a note on Mandy's door with last-minute instructions. The music coming from behind her door was the B52's "Love Shack." He pictured her reading Jack's letter while she listened to the music, while she pictured herself and Jack somewhere in the Yukon in a love shack. He clenched his jaw.

If he knocked on her door, would she open it, would her blue eyes be dreamy, her mind on Jack? He didn't want to find out.

He took off for the airport before he did something stupid.

Mandy sat cross-legged in the middle of her bed. She didn't hear Adam chopping away in the kitchen. She didn't hear him come to the door. Not with the music throbbing. She was reading and rereading Jack's latest letter. It wasn't the same as the other letters. It was more eager, more certain about how he felt about her. He wanted to exchange pictures. Mandy didn't know what to do. She told herself it wasn't important what he looked like.

At least, it hadn't been important until Adam had arrived and set the standard for what the Yukon man should look like. Maybe she'd be disappointed when she found out Jack didn't look like Adam. A thought that made her feel guilty and shallow for placing so much importance on looks.

She changed her clothes, read Adam's instructions and then went to the kitchen to toss the salad and heat the rolls. She set up the table in the living room and lit a fire in the fireplace. She was setting out the sherry when the guests pulled up. Opening the front door, she greeted the two couples warmly.

Adam brushed by her with their suitcases and muttered into her ear as he passed, "The daughter and her husband are vegetarians."

"Oh, no."

He shrugged and carried their bags upstairs. Mandy made polite conversation. Meanwhile her brain took an inventory of the kitchen and came up with nothing suitable for vegetarians.

Once inside the kitchen door, Mandy ran her hands through her hair. "What are we going to do?" she demanded in a stage whisper. "Are you sure they're vegetarians?"

Adam leaned against the cabinet and grinned at her. "It’s the atmosphere. Everyone feels it. You've created a love shack."

She felt a flush creep up her cheeks as she rubbed at a stain on the table. "I shouldn't complain. As long as they pay their bill, what do I care what they do while they're here? But what on earth are we going to feed them, after you've made your delicious beef Stroganoff?" She sniffed the air and then sighed deeply.

They worked steadily for the next hour, shredding lettuce, toasting croutons, grating cheese, boiling noodles, bumping elbows, stepping on each other's toes. Adam muttered instructions, Mandy followed them. When they'd finished, they'd used every pot, every bowl, every utensil in the kitchen. Despite their aprons, they were liberally spotted with globs of cream and butter from head to toe, and the floor looked like the aftermath of a tornado.

Mandy was just spinning lettuce leaves dry when she heard a loud knocking on the front door and a loud voice call, "Anyone home?"

As if on cue, Laurie burst through the kitchen door in her maroon uniform like a whirling dervish. Setting her small black suitcase down, she opened her arms out wide and yodeled, "I'm ho-ome."

"If I'd known, I wouldn't have eaten on the plane. It smells heavenly." She frowned. "But you don't do dinners. And Adam is a guest."

"Yes, I know, but this was a special request. And I can't afford to turn anyone down."

Laurie nodded. "I'm going to change. Back in a minute."

Mandy watched her pick up her bag and leave the kitchen, marveling as she always did at how Laurie could look so perfectly groomed, so well put together, after hours of traipsing up and down the aisle of a 747 and smiling, smiling, smiling.

When Mandy finished the salad, she carried it into the living room, noticing how much the place suddenly resembled a cozy restaurant, with the fire burning in the fireplace and the candles on the table.

She almost ran into Adam on her way back to the kitchen as he came through the door with a bottle of Burgundy. She paused to watch him hover over the table much as he'd done the night he'd arrived, when he'd played maitre d' and she was the guest. He was an amazing man, switching identities with the greatest of ease, keeping her amused, entertained, and just a little off balance. And she felt a pang, just for a moment, as she stood there admiring his suave manner, a longing for the dinner in her kitchen with just the two of them, no guests, no sister.

What was wrong with her? She was full to overflowing with guests and she was longing for the good old days when she was half-empty. The truth was that Adam filled up the place all by himself. With him there she forgot all about guests. And right now she'd almost forgotten about the sauce simmering on the stove and the noodles boiling in the pot. She rushed back to the kitchen to take charge.

It seemed to take hours for them to serve and for the guests to eat, but when they'd finished, and the well-fed, contented guests had toddled happily up the stairs to bed, Mandy fell onto the sofa and Laurie walked in the front door in blue jeans and a sweatshirt.

"Where is everybody?" Laurie asked in a loud whisper.

Mandy, almost too tired to speak, pointed one hand toward the second floor, the other toward the kitchen.

Laurie nodded and sat next to her sister on the couch. "Good heavens, why didn't you tell me he was God's gift from the Yukon?"

Mandy smothered a smile. "You didn't ask me."

Laurie crossed her legs underneath her. "Maybe they all look like that. Even Jack. Maybe it’s the air or the cold weather."

Mandy leaned her head back against the couch and closed her eyes.

"What Jack looks like is not important. What is important is that he's honest and faithful." Mandy didn't see Adam come into the living room, but she felt Laurie's sharp dig with her elbow. Her eyes flew open.

"Sounds like man's best friend," he commented, looking at Mandy.

"We were talking about a friend of Mandy's," Laurie explained. "Another Yukon man. I don't suppose you know Jack, do you?"

"Not interested," Adam repeated brusquely. "But don't let that stop you. You two go right ahead and discuss him while I clear this mess out of here."

Mandy jumped to her feet. "No, you sit down while I clean up."

Laurie untangled her feet from the sofa. "Why don't we all work together and get it done faster?"

"Laurie, you go to bed. You must be exhausted from serving meals to two hundred people." Mandy wanted to give her sister a nudge in the direction of the door. There was no telling what she'd say. She might tell Adam that Mandy had met Jack through Yukon Man, that Mandy was in love with Jack, or that Mandy was perfect for Adam. But Laurie was determined to stay.

Before they adjourned to tackle the kitchen, Laurie asked Adam where he was going to sleep. He shrugged and pointed to the couch. Mandy ran her hand through her tangled hair. It didn't seem fair for Adam to cook the dinner, wash the dishes and then sleep on the couch. But what could she do? There was a brief pause while she looked at Laurie, who was looking at Adam, who was looking at Mandy, then they all trooped into the kitchen.

Mandy washed, Adam dried and Laurie put away. Laurie told stories about the charter flight she'd worked the night before, about spilled drinks, inebriated passengers, and the three of than were soon laughing and talking as if they'd known each other for years.

When Laurie finally put the last glass away, said goodnight and went to her room, the house was suddenly quiet. The dining table had been returned to its place under the window and Mandy reached into the hall closet for a pillow and a blanket.

"Your sister's a great girl," Adam noted, taking the bedding from her arms.

Mandy nodded. "She thinks you're nice, too." She could hardly say "She thinks you're God's gift from the Yukon," but she thought it. "Thanks again, Adam," she said. But before he wrapped himself in the blanket and settled his long, lanky body into the narrow confines of the couch, she hurried down the hall and closed her bedroom door behind her. After all, there was just so much guilt, longing and gratitude a woman could handle.