Дебби Макомбер - Starry Night

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.