Melting His Alaskan Heart Read online

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity of fending off more women, he gave up on locating Trent or Sven and found at empty seat at the bar. The bartender brought the beer he ordered.

  The amber liquid cooled his throat and soothed his nerves. He set down the glass mug and swiped the foam off his upper lip.

  A woman’s voice sounded from behind him. “Is this seat taken?”

  Ethan stared at the empty seat beside him and couldn’t come up with a good lie. Besides, if he was supposed to be Dane, he should probably have more than a two-second conversation with a woman. “No, go right ahead.”

  She slid onto the bar stool before he swiveled his chair to look at her. Speechless, Ethan surveyed the exquisite silken angel beside him. Trying to think fast about what Dane might say, he blurted, “Did I just land in heaven?”

  “I don’t know.” She blinked. “Did you?”

  Ethan couldn’t believe he’d said such an idiotic thing, but the hourglass figure of the woman clad in the strapless get-up with ample cleavage left him full-on hard. So unskilled at basic flirting, he decided keeping his mouth shut and his eyes averted would be the best course of action. Quit trying to say what Dane would say. Just make an appearance and leave.

  She ordered a Long Island iced tea before turning her attention back to Ethan and extended her hand. “I’m Carly Hughes.”

  Ethan swallowed before grasping her hand. Partially hidden behind a mask, her eyes gleamed with the most brilliant shade of green. “Eee—Dane Forrester, nice to meet you.”

  “Are you enjoying the party?” she asked.

  He unclasped his hand from hers. A bolt of something sizzling hot passed between them. Reaching for a lifeline, he embraced his mug with interlacing fingers and hung on tight. “Yes.”

  “I just moved to Anchorage, but I figured a literacy council charity event sponsored by the Alaska Fury would be a great way to meet people.” She readjusted her bottom on her bar stool and crossed her legs, bumping his shin in the process. “Excuse me.”

  Ethan gave a curt nod and chugged his beer. He had to admit being hidden behind the knight’s half-mask was a nice benefit. He didn’t have to feel self-conscious about his scarred face. He wasn’t one for social engagements anyway, but he willed himself to relax.

  The bartender returned with her Long Island iced tea. “That’ll be eleven fifty.”

  Carly reached for her purse, opened it up and rifled through its contents. “Oh, my goodness, did I…I think I forgot my wallet.”

  Ethan stood up and dug out his wallet. He hadn’t forgotten all his manners. “Please, allow me.”

  “All right.” She put her purse away.

  “Sorry, I should have offered in the first place,” Ethan mumbled, opening up his wallet. “I don’t get out much.”

  She cocked an eyebrow above the edge of her mask. “You, Dane Forrester, don’t get out much?”

  “I mean, I haven’t been out lately—as in a few days. I mean I…” Ethan decided he’d be better off making a hasty retreat. “Forget I ever said that. I’m distracted.” He held his empty mug an extra three seconds before setting it down. Maybe more alcohol would numb his embarrassment. He called out to the bartender, “Could I get another Bud, please?”

  Why on God’s snow-covered earth did he ever agree to this charade? He wasn’t good at being Ethan Forrester—let alone Dane Forrester. He wasn’t good at being anyone other than a part-time fireman and half-assed welder.

  Silence fell between them. Music and dancing started on the opposite end of the room. The bartender returned with his beer. Ethan slid him a ten dollar bill. “Thanks.”

  He glanced at his wristwatch. Only twenty-five minutes had passed since he’d arrived. He didn’t know how to talk to women anymore, let alone a gorgeous woman like the one beside him. She wasn’t tall enough to be a model, but she was pretty enough to be one. She’d recently moved to the area, she probably didn’t know a soul. The least he could do was welcome her to the Last Frontier. “So, Carly, what brings you to Alaska?”

  She drank her iced tea at record speed. Maybe she was just as nervous as he was.

  “I’m going to be completely honest with you, Mr. Forrester.” The words whirled out of her in quick succession. “I just moved here for a job. A job with Alaska Today. I know you don’t give interviews, but I’m desperate here.” Her shoulders slumped before she reached for her drink and chugged the last of it down. “I don’t have a dime to my name. I’m so sorry, I didn’t forget my wallet—I just don’t have any money.”

  She stopped to take a breath, so Ethan took the opportunity to say, “I’m happy to pay for your drink. It’s no problem.”

  “I spent all my money moving here and then on this stupid costume. Then the second I get here my new boss says, ‘Get the story or get out.’ ” She spun in her chair and leaned in closer to him. Her breath smelled of mint and tea. “I really believe he’s going to fire me if I don’t get an interview with you.”

  Ethan stared at her. His pulse raced. Her red hair looked so silky, he wanted to touch it. “I don’t think your costume is stupid.”

  “You don’t?” Her voice sounded sincere. Apparently, she didn’t realize how hot she looked. She seemed genuine, but Ethan didn’t trust his instincts where women were concerned. He’d been out of the running for too long.

  “Bartender, can we get the lady another drink?” The intoxicating nearness of her made his heart thud like it hadn’t done in years. “I guess I should have asked. Would you like another drink?”

  “Yes, thank you. I had it all planned out, you know.” She moved her hands when she talked. He eyed her pink lips. They were full and pouty and…kissable.

  Yes, she was attractive, but kissable or not, his time here was almost done.

  “I was going to flirt with you and find a way to entice you into giving me an interview, but I’m no good at flirting. I’m the type of person to just lay it out on the line. Be honest and up front about everything.”

  Gulp. A stab of guilt sliced at his gut.

  “Don’t you agree?” She sipped more of her tea.

  “Of course. Yes.” More guilt. More stabbing. He swallowed. “But sometimes there’s a good reason for people to not be completely honest.” Where was this coming from? Must be the beer speaking.

  She scrunched up her pert little nose and her eyebrows turned inward. “Like when?”

  He shrugged. Think fast. “Like when my mom cooks her famous hot dish casserole. I don’t like it, but I tell her I love it.”

  She propped one elbow on the glossy oak bar and leaned in closer to him. “Why is it famous then?”

  Perspiration beaded on his forehead. “Because it’s famously bad.”

  Carly laughed and the delicious sound brushed over his skin. For a brief moment, he understood why his mother and sister harped on him to get out more. He didn’t laugh enough. Or listen to other people laugh.

  She twirled the tea around in her glass. “I’m not so sure everything they say about you is true.”

  “Oh, yeah, how’s that?” Ethan stared at her lips, then moved his gaze to her neck and shoulders. Freckles. She had lovely, subtle freckles. Almost invisible, but not quite.

  “Well, they say you never talk about your personal life and especially your family, but look at you. You just did.”

  “That’s because we’re off the record.” He reminded himself he was Dane. Focus. Dane didn’t talk to the press, yet here he was doing it. “What was it you said earlier about flirting with me?”

  She smiled. Straight white teeth, green eyes hidden behind a mask, gorgeous red wavy hair made to run your hands through. This conversation needed to stop. He couldn’t reveal information about Dane. Well, he could, but he shouldn’t.

  She ran her tongue along her kissable bottom lip. “I said I intended on flirting with you, to convince you to give me an interview.”

  He crossed his arms and leaned back on the bar stool. “Well, by all means, go ahead.” />
  She slugged him on the shoulder. “I just spilled my guts to you. Can’t you help a girl out?”

  He flinched and rubbed his shoulder. “I don’t know that punching me is the way to accomplish your goal.”

  “No, I don’t suppose it is.” She laughed again. He loved that sound.

  Two costumed hockey players headed his way. One was dressed as some type of Spanish conquistador and the other wore tight black slacks with a matching shirt buttoned halfway down his chest. They strolled up behind him. “Buddy, where you been?”

  Ethan turned and recognized Sven and Trent. Good, now he had backup. “Right here.”

  “Nice costume,” Trent commented.

  “Guess what Trent is,” Sven said.

  Ethan glanced at the skin-tight nylon pants and frilly long-sleeved shirt. “I don’t know. A ballroom dancer?”

  Sven slapped him on the shoulder. “Close. A figure skater. Now guess what I am?”

  Ethan shrugged. “A matador?”

  “No. Christopher Columbus.”

  Ethan nodded and picked up his beer, hoping they’d talk to Carly so he could leave. He just needed to finish his beer first.

  Carly’s eyes lit up from behind her mask. “Hello, Christopher Columbus, I’m Carly.” She reached out to clasp each of Dane’s friends’ hands. “I’m trying to convince Mr. Forrester to give me an interview. Maybe you two could help me out?”

  Now he saw her evil plan. Recruit help to persuade him to cave.

  Trent, the hockey player turned figure skater, laughed. “Good luck with that.”

  “Who’s your employer?” asked Sven, the Spaniard.

  “Alaska Today,” she replied.

  “Impressive,” Sven muttered. “Give her the interview, Dane. I’m sure she’ll do you justice.”

  Ethan grunted in response and guzzled more beer. So much for his plan to leave them with the girl.

  “Well…good talking with you then. We thought we’d check up on you. Make sure you’re all right,” Trent said with a knowing glance. “Sven, let’s go.”

  “Ah, yeah, I’m good, thanks.” But what he really wanted to say was, keep the girl occupied so I can leave.

  Ethan watched them walk away and he could feel Carly staring at him. He needed to make a quick exit. He’d been at the party long enough. The management must have seen him by now.

  “Dane, please, I’m serious,” she said. “My job really is on the line. I’m being honest here. I’m not usually the type to beg, but in this case, I’m desperate.”

  What would it hurt to answer a few questions? He never understood why Dane kept his personal life so private anyway. Hell, Ethan had more reasons to keep his past private than Dane did. Ethan could tell a few stories about their childhood and call it good. Besides, Dane was the one who insisted they play this presto-chango charade. He’d have to live with the consequences. “I’m sure I can answer a few questions for you. No harm in that.”

  “Oh, thank you, Dane.” She stood up and wrapped her arms around him.

  Startled, he leaned back, their faces inches from each other. The smell of vanilla and spiced tea wafted between them.

  “I’m sorry.” Confusion marred her expression. She sat back on her stool and finished the last of her drink.

  “Would you like another drink?” Ethan asked.

  “That’d be great.” Carly swiveled in her chair and crossed her legs. “So the first question I wanted to ask about is the Cincinnati incident.”

  Shit. Ethan couldn’t answer questions about that. Dane hit a slap shot into the face of a player on the opposing team, consequently breaking his jaw. It wasn’t Dane’s fault if the pros chose not to wear face shields. Accidents happened. He knew that better than anyone. The Macarena sounded from the other side of the room. “Could we start with something a little less recent? How about when I was a kid?”

  “Sure. Sure. That’d be great.” Carly downed the rest of her drink.

  The music got louder. “I’m having a hard time hearing you, especially with this knight’s helmet on my head,” Ethan said. “Do you mind if we step into the lobby?”

  “That’s a great idea. I bet it is quieter out there. Let me run to the ladies’ room and I’ll meet you in the lobby in five minutes. Sound good?”

  “Sure. See you there.” Her halo and wings fit her honest, straight-forward personality. While he, on the other hand, was the devil incarnate. All he needed was a three-pronged pitchfork to go along with his scarred face. He was the Beast next to her Beauty.

  Carly slid off the stool. Her cleavage drew his attention. Damn, what a rack, and real, too. Unlike him—the counterfeit version of Dane.

  She wove through the people. Her derriere swayed back and forth.

  This was his chance to make an escape. The penthouse suite called to him.

  CHAPTER 3

  Carly had a little trouble navigating her way to the ladies’ room, not because she didn’t know the way, but because she felt lightheaded. Her platform gothic boots suddenly seemed three feet high instead of three inches. Despite the waves of dizziness, she found the bathroom, closed the door, and squealed in delight. Bunching up her fist, she punched the air, one, two, three times. “Yes!” she called out to no one but herself.

  A jumble of nerves, she could have never been prepared for the smack in the gut that was Dane Forrester. Testosterone leapt off the guy’s skin. After swooping into the seat next to him, she’d been so flustered, first by his mere presence, then by her lack of money, she just blurted out what she needed.

  Still embarrassed by her brash approach, she thought maybe her costume was the reason he’d agreed to the interview. If that was the case, she had Velma to thank. After her first paycheck, she was going to take her out to lunch. She owed her.

  Her belly rumbled and her balance went off kilter. She grabbed the edge of the bathroom sink and peered in the mirror. Had she eaten any lunch today? No, she’d completely forgotten. This might be why she was feeling so tipsy. Two Long Island iced teas on an empty stomach—not smart.

  But none of that mattered. Time to focus on the interview. Carly re-applied her lipstick, checked if her mascara was holding up under the mask, and decided she was ready. Pushing open the bathroom doors, she followed the signs out to the lobby.

  The sports journalist world was relatively small. She’d heard other columnists complain about what a real horse’s ass Dane could be, but she saw none of that. Just goes to show how you shouldn’t listen to rumors and innuendoes. She opened her purse and made sure she brought her tape recorder. Check. Paper and pen. Check. List of questions. Check.

  Glancing across the lobby, she didn’t immediately see Dane, but she smelled the food. Maybe she could convince him to eat with her before the interview. No, she couldn’t do that. What if he changed his mind? She needed to strike while the iron was hot. So cliché, but so true. She walked through the lobby. Still no sight of Dane.

  Conversations she’d listened to about the Stanley Cup-winning team captain spun to the forefront of her disorganized thoughts. She tried to think about the game of hockey instead of the man. He couldn’t be the team captain if he didn’t have some redeeming qualities. Integrity, leadership, and honesty came to mind. The coach of the Alaska Fury wouldn’t have him as captain if he didn’t possess a big dose of reliability, and that had to include sticking to your word. Right?

  Carly strode through the lobby again looking for his knight costume. Her heart beat faster as she recalled her meeting with Harv. Dane wouldn’t back out on his end of the deal, would he? Finally, the desk receptionist asked, “Excuse me, is there anything I can help you with? You look lost.”

  “I was supposed to meet Dane, a costumed knight out here, from the party. We said five minutes. Maybe I’m early or he’s late.”

  “Do you mean Dane Forrester?”

  “Yes.”

  “I saw him not too long ago. He was headed toward the west bank of elevators.”

  “Thank you
very much.” Carly briskly walked to the west side of the hotel. She reached the wall of elevators and before she could decide what to do, Dane stepped out and almost ran smack into her.

  “Excuse me.” He placed his hand on her elbow like he might stumble if he didn’t.

  “There you are. We were supposed to meet in the lobby. I was afraid you’d left.”

  “Me, leave? Never.” He pointed to his chest. “I went to my room for a minute, is all. I needed to readjust my chainmail.”

  “Uh-huh.” She nodded and couldn’t decide if his sarcasm was genuine. “You weren’t running away from me, were you?”

  “And if I was running, I didn’t get very far.” He placed his hand at the center of her back and guided her toward the lobby.

  His warm masculine essence encompassed her. A giddy schoolgirl feeling spun around her like a web. “So you’re staying the night here?”

  Other women approached him as they walked. He gave them a polite “hello” then moved on with her, his hand never lifting from her back. “I got a good deal.”

  “You got a good deal? Where are you, in the penthouse suite?”

  “Yup.” He wasn’t paying any attention to the other women who approached. Dane Forrester was almost acting as though she, Carly Hughes, was his date. She needed food to absorb the alcohol in her system. Truly, she must not be seeing things clearly.

  “I’m just a simple Alaskan kid from a small Alaskan town. I want a good deal, just like anybody else.”

  “Is that on the record?” she asked.

  “Yup.” He guided her toward a set of sofas beside a fake fireplace. “Should we sit here?”

  “Sure.” Carly reached in her purse, took out her tape recorder, and hit the on button. He waited for her to sit. Then he sat beside her. His knee brushed against hers. Heat enveloped her, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the fireplace or radiating from Dane. Instead of pulling away, she let their knees touch. She wanted the interview to be intimate.