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.
"Is it true your husband does the cooking?" the older woman asked Mandy.
"No," she said quickly. "I mean yes, but..."
"Mandy," Adam said from the staircase, "could I have a word with you in the
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.
"Is it true your husband does the cooking?" the older woman asked Mandy.
"No," she said quickly. "I mean yes, but..."
"Mandy," Adam said from the staircase, "could I have a word with you in the
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