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“April.”
Her grandmother’s suddenly weakened voice had April turning around to look at her. Ursula’s hand slipped dramatically over her chest, her fingers spreading over her heart.
Ursula sighed deeply. “I’m an old woman, my heart can’t take all this arguing and dissent.”
April knew an act when she saw one and, happily, this was one. She moved closer to her grandmother. “You’re a semiold woman who likes to manipulate.”
Ursula let her hand drop, shaking her head in despair. “I should have raised you to be more respectful of your elders.”
“You raised me fine.” Bending, April brushed a quick kiss to the silky, weather-lined cheek. “You raised me to see through charades and con artists and golden-tongued men.”
That hadn’t been her doing. That had been in response to her father’s actions. Ursula’s heart ached, but for a reason that had nothing to do with medical conditions and terminology written in doctors’ journals.
“Not every man is out to break your heart, April. What happened to your mother—”
Instantly, April’s chin shot up. A warrior on constant guard. “Is never going to happen to me.”
Ursula reached for her granddaughter’s hand and held it in hers. “I’m glad, child, but that shouldn’t have the price tag you’re attaching to it.” Her eyes searched April’s face, looking for a sign, a chink that would let her break through. The girl was so adamant about not being hurt that she wasn’t allowing anyone into her life. “It shouldn’t prevent you from enjoying yourself. The years go very fast, April. Faster than any of us can imagine. I don’t want you standing at the end of your life, whispering, ‘If only I’d done things differently.’ April, honey, I don’t want you to have regrets.”
Then they were agreed, April thought. “Neither do I.”
But Ursula shook her head. “I meant about not living life.”
Gently, April disengaged her hand from her grandmother’s. The next moment she was straightening things again, unable to remain still. Unwilling to allow her choices to be examined this way. “I am living life, Gran. I’m out there every day, living.”
But Ursula knew better. For all her sophistication, all her potential and promise, April was fleeing life. “You’re out there every day, snapping pictures, capturing other people living. You can’t do it by proxy. You’ve got to do it yourself. Sometimes you’ve got to put up with pinched toes to break in the best pair of shoes you’ll ever own.”
She might have jumped from a plane to photograph a sky-diving couple getting married, but there were some risks April refused to take. The one her grandmother was talking about was one of them.
“What if those shoes never break in right?”
Ursula could only smile, remembering her own short-lived first marriage. Jake hadn’t left by choice. A fishing accident had taken him from her. But the heartache had been the same. “Wearing them for a little while’s still better than never wearing them at all and going barefoot.”
April put down the tiny glass figurines she’d started to line up in a row and turned to look at her grandmother. It was not in her to say no to the woman for long. “You’re not going to give up until I go, are you?”
Knowing the victory was hers, Ursula smiled. “When have I ever given up?”
April laughed, sitting on the edge of the sofa, beside Ursula’s throw-covered feet. “You have a point.”
“I always do.” Ursula threw off the cover and swung her legs to the floor.
April rose to her feet, staring. “What are you doing?”
“Well, I’m going, too,” Ursula declared. “I’ve always enjoyed having a good time—and I always have a good time at the Salty.”
April thought of the saloon. The men there could get pretty rowdy. And there’d be dancing, she would be willing to bet. She looked at her grandmother suspiciously. Could this whole thing have been a ruse? “What about that heart of yours not being able to take it?”
“That’s only when it comes to arguing and dissent. It can take a good time just fine.” Ursula winked. “I hear Yuri Bostovik’s going to be there.” April could have sworn she saw stars in her grandmother’s eyes. “He’s always been partial to me.”
April’s mouth dropped open. She’d never thought of her grandmother as having a life outside the post office. “Gran, you’re sixty-nine—”
Ursula nodded as she shuffled off toward her bedroom. “And not getting any younger. My point exactly.”
April paused, debating. Her immediate reaction was to bully her grandmother into staying in bed, but happiness counted for something in the scheme of things, especially when it came to well-being.
Wavering, she gave in. She supposed it wouldn’t do all that much harm. “All right, we’ll go for a little while and then I’ll bring you home.”
That wasn’t the way it was going to be if she had anything to say about it, Ursula thought. She fixed her oldest grandchild with a look meant to establish the order of things between them. She still made the rules.
“I’ll go for a little while and then Max’ll bring me home. You’re going to stay at the Salty.”
“And do what?” April wanted to know. “I don’t really like beer.”
“So?” Ursula’s small shoulders rose and fell. “Don’t have beer. There’re other things to drink at the Salty besides beer. And I’m sure you’ll find something to occupy yourself with.” Her knowing smile widened. “If you’re lucky.”
Because it was Gran, April surrendered. For the time being. “You’re positively wicked, Gran.”
“Only if Yuri gets lucky tonight, dear, only if Yuri gets lucky. Now go,” she coaxed. “Get prettier.”
April shook her head, watching her grandmother hurry off to do the same.
Chapter Three
Unlike the near-stagnant air, the ocean of noise within the Salty Dog Saloon that evening ebbed and flowed around April, allowing her to pick out a word here and there as she slowly made her way through the teeming crowd of eighty percent wall-to-wall men. She’d elected to come essentially wearing what she’d had on earlier: changing to a blouse, but staying in her worn jeans. She saw no reason to dress up. It wasn’t that kind of a party. People in Hades held comfort in high regard.
April looked around. It wouldn’t have really mattered what she’d worn. The odds were definitely in her favor, had she been inclined to play that sort of a game. But she wasn’t. Looking over the crop of available men was the furthest thing from her mind, except in a remote, analytical sort of way.
She took stock of the scene, seeing it through the eyes of a photographer rather than as a former native who’d made good her escape.
It had been a long time since she’d actually seen so many men in one place at one time. A fragment of a memory nudged at her, blooming in her mind until she’d captured all of it. The last time she’d seen a gathering the likes of this had been here, right after her graduation from high school. She was the first in her family to finish the twelfth grade. Gran had insisted on throwing a party to celebrate the occasion and since the small living area above the post office barely housed the four of them, much less anyone else, Gran had prevailed on the owner of the Salty to hold it here. It hadn’t belonged to Ike and Jean-Luc at the time, though they had worked here.
All April really remembered about the party was that she’d been consumed with the thought of finally being able to leave. Not the Salty or Hades, but the area. Alaska. All of it. It had been the only thing on her mind for years. Ever since that morning she’d woken up to find her father gone, she’d wanted to leave herself, to spread her wings and soar.
And she had soared. For six years. Flown to all the major cities in the country, to all the places she’d once dreamed of, sitting up late at night in her tiny alcove of a room, poring over the atlas her father had left behind. The out-of-date atlas with its worn, earmarked pages and its places that continued to exist even though they were no longer referred to by the names that were written down between the covers.
Looking at the people around her now, almost all of whom she recognized, April expected to feel like an outsider, like someone who had outgrown the place she was visiting. If nothing else, she’d seen more of the world and of life than most of the people here.
Even so, the feeling wasn’t quite there. These people she’d been so quick to erase from her life didn’t treat her as if she didn’t belong. Instead, they behaved as if she had only momentarily stepped out, but was back now. It was an absurd thought because she wasn’t back. She was just here temporarily and would be gone again very soon. The sooner, the better.
She saw Yuri Bostovik over in the corner, his gray hair comically parted in the middle and slicked back. The moment he saw her grandmother, he made a beeline for her. Even in this light, she could see Gran blushing—as if she hadn’t spent the past hour planning on just how to greet the man. Gran had buried three husbands and still acted as if love was just around the corner for her. The woman was incredible.
April continued sidestepping people and nodding greetings, trying to reach the bar. What surprised her was that along with her detached, analytical feeling was a tiny prick of something she had trouble identifying.
Or maybe it was that she didn’t want to identify it. Nostalgia had no place here, in Hades. Not for her. The very idea was ridiculous. Nostalgia came when you remembered something fondly. There was nothing to feel nostalgic about when it came to her past. She’d never liked it in Hades, had always found it lacking. Other than an attachment to Gran, Max and June, there was no reason for her to feel anything at all about this piece of tundra.
So what was this odd feeling that persisted in rambling around inside of her?
“Is this a private smug moment, or can anyone horn their way in?”
The question, whispered against her ear, nearly made her jump. The warm breath that had accompanied it lingered on her skin, throwing her concentration completely off.
Turning, she found that Alison’s brother was at her elbow. Jimmy had a frosty mug of beer in each hand, holding them close to his chest to keep from spilling the contents.
She eyed the mugs before looking up at him. Even in the dim lighting from the chandeliers, his eyes were intensely blue. She felt a ripple of excitement wash over her. “Two-fisted drinker?”
Hunching in against her, he seemed to move in closer without physically taking a step. “No, actually this one’s for you.”
With a human wall suddenly at her back, there was nowhere for her to go. She stifled her impulse to get away. “Me?”
Jimmy nodded. “I spotted you when you walked in with your family. Me and every other male in the room who’s breathing,” he added with an easy smile that would have broken down a lesser woman’s defenses. He held the mug in his right hand up to her. “Thought you might want something to drink.”
She’d never really cared for beer, but April supposed it would be rude to refuse the drink so she accepted the mug. That he included himself in the group rather than go out of his way to single himself out for her benefit surprised her. But then, she’d learned that men were never easy to read.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“So—” he clinked the side of his mug against hers lightly “—what are you being so smug about?”
She raised her chin defensively. “I’m not being smug.”
He felt a sudden, uncontrollable desire to nibble on that chin, but held himself in check. This lady required kid glove treatment. “Yes, you are,” Jimmy quietly corrected. “There was a smug look in your eyes just now, when you were looking over the people in here.” He studied her for a moment before taking a sip of his beer. “This your first time back at the Salty?”
It struck her that he sounded as if he were a Hades native. That was a laugh. A man like Dr. James Quintano couldn’t stay in a place like this for more than a couple of weeks, if that long. She had a feeling Alison’s brother would probably cut his vacation short rather than remain here for the duration. He seemed like the type who needed a regular dose of excitement in his life. Someone who needed a party every night. The only kind of excitement Hades had to offer usually involved natural disasters or fires.
“Yes,” she finally answered because he still seemed to be waiting for a response.
Jimmy took another, longer sip of his beer, his eyes never leaving her. He liked watching the way her breasts rose and fell beneath her peasant blouse with each breath she took. “Luc said you’ve been away for seven years.”
“Six years,” she corrected, surprised that Jean-Luc had even noticed her absence. Alison’s husband was so laid-back, she hadn’t expected ordinary events to make any impression on him. Her departure had been without fanfare, as had her return. “But right now it feels more like six days,” she muttered out loud, looking around.
“Homecomings have that effect,” he agreed.
Someone bumped into April from behind and pushed her into him. An amber wave rose from her mug and Jimmy found himself being liberally christened with the beer he’d just handed her.
Amused, slightly embarrassed, she looked at the resulting mess. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
Jimmy brushed a few golden droplets away from his shirt, but the rest were quickly being absorbed by the dark blue material, creating an irregular-shaped stain on his chest.
Grinning, he shrugged it off. “No harm done.” He looked at the throng of people behind her. It appeared as if everyone in Hades and the surrounding area had somehow managed to pack themselves into the saloon. “But I think we might want to step out of range.” With his hand against the small of her back, he steered April toward another section that was only slightly less crowded.
April glanced across her shoulder toward where she’d last seen her family, all the way over on the other side of the saloon. Max had disappeared, as had June. Only Gran was there with Yuri. Looking up, the older woman made eye contact with her and smiled, nodding.
She knew that look. It was approval. Gran had never been stingy with hers, but this time her approval had found the wrong mark. April shook her head vigorously before looking away.
Jimmy noted the exchange. He bent his head toward her to be heard. “Is that your grandmother?”
April wrapped her hands around the mug and, wrinkling her nose, took a sip before answering. Though she wasn’t sure why, she suddenly found herself in need of fortification herself and this would have to do. “Yes, that’s Gran.”
He could just barely pick up the affection in her voice. Seeing as how she was trying hard to appear removed, she had to care a great deal for the older woman. “Luc told me a lot about her. She sounds like a wonderful woman.”
“She is.” April turned her attention back to the man who seemed determined to remain with her. It was a lot less disconcerting to look at him than to feel his breath on her neck. “You seem to have gotten a great deal of information out of Jean-Luc. As I recall, before I left, if he strung three words together in a sentence every few weeks, we called him chatty.”
Jimmy laughed and despite the noise in the saloon, the sound wrapped itself around her like a warm scarf on a cold winter’s day. Maybe she’d absorbed more alcoholic fumes than she’d realized, April thought.
“He’s loosened up some, being married to my sister.” Jimmy was just repeating what Ike had told him. “But he’d have to if only in self-defense. Alison tends to be bossy if she’s given her head.”
Alison didn’t have the market cornered on that, April thought, glancing at Jimmy. She moved so that he was forced to drop his hand from her back. “Another family trait?”
Jimmy nodded, downing a little more beer. He set the empty mug on the closest surface. “My sister Lily’s the same way. Could be why she has trouble maintaining a relationship.”
“Meaning that men prefer women who agree with them and who they can walk on.”
The man tending bar slid another full mug his way. Catching it, Jimmy nodded his thanks and took a mouthful. “Didn’t say that.”
Her eyes narrowed. “But you implied it.”
The look he gave her was innocent. He studied her in silence for a moment. Was she deliberately trying to instigate a fight between them? The thought amused him more than anything else.
“Can’t see how. I was just saying that bossing people around never makes for a good relationship no matter which party’s doing the bossing, male or female.” He took another long sip before continuing. “Never liked walking on people myself. I like a woman who can give as good as she gets.”
Their eyes locked and she had the distinct impression that he was putting her on notice. Though she tried to block it, a small, unidentifiable shiver ran down the length of her spine.
“Then you’ve come to the right place, Dr. Quintano. The women in Hades definitely aren’t pushovers,” April told him with a touch of pride. “They’ve learned to stand up for themselves.”
His eyes were touching her, making her uneasy. She became aware of the severe lack of air within the packed saloon. Jimmy’s smile was easy, slipping over his lips in slow motion and in direct reverse proportion to the rhythm assimilated by her pulse.
“Glad to hear that.”
Yeah, she’d just bet he was. April cleared her throat, then set her mug down on a cluttered table meant for two. “And you’re wrong.”
Jimmy cocked his head, his eyes on her mouth. “About?”
She shouldn’t have had any of the beer. There had to have been something in it. Beer didn’t affect her this way, making her head spin and her pulse race, certainly not a few sips.
“Homecomings,” she told him stiffly. She realized that she wasn’t exactly making sense. She was losing the thread of what she was saying herself. “At least about this being one.”
“But this was your home,” he pointed out, “and you’ve come back.”
“Just to help out.”
He gave another careless shrug. “You’ve come back. The details don’t matter.”
Now there she had him. It was her turn to smile confidentially. “Oh, but they do,” she corrected with a liberal dose of passion. “Details always matter. They’re what makes one thing different from another.”
His grin merely served to irk her. “You like to argue, don’t you?”
Her chin went up defensively again, and again, he found it tempting. Jimmy seriously toyed with the idea of stealing a kiss, but knew it would just get him slapped royally. He could wait.
“No, I don’t like to argue,” she contradicted. “I like things to be perfectly clear and up front. No lies, no deceptions, no illusions.”
