That Reckless Night Read online

  And he didn’t even know her name. Hadn’t that been the stipulation she’d set? And he’d been only too happy to play along. Of all the stupid moves...

  Their stares collided, a combination of dismayed surprise and horror, as both processed the reality of the situation. Yeah, talk about awkward. It was his first day, and he’d already slept with an employee. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t known; all that mattered was that now they had history and it was likely to become even more complicated, which was the worst way to kick off a fresh start.

  “Everything all right, Miranda?” asked a woman named Mary Calhoun, who had introduced herself the minute he’d crossed the threshold. “We were starting to worry. Is Talen okay? Did he catch that flu bug that’s going around? It’s not like you to be late.”

  Miranda. Her name was Miranda. And who was Talen? He rolled her name around in his mind. It fit her—strong, bold and every bit as fierce as he suspected her personality was. Damn, if she wasn’t as beautiful in the morning as she was in moonlight. Definitely not the way he wanted to start their professional relationship. There were too many images in his head of her naked in the throes of passion to shake free. How the hell was he supposed to act? He was on unprecedented ground and he hated it.

  “I overslept,” she murmured, edging her way past him as she took her place among her peers. He didn’t miss how her gaze seemed to skitter around the room, content to rest on anything but his own gaze. Not that he blamed her—if he weren’t the boss he probably would have done an about-face the minute he realized who she was. But that wasn’t the case and they didn’t have that option. He was here to do a job—there was no turning back for him—and so he had to make the best of it, which meant dealing with the fact that he’d inadvertently slept with one of his employees. They were both adults, and they would just have to handle it like adults.

  “My name is Jeremiah Burke, and I’m your new director. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He held his hand out for a cordial shake as if he hadn’t been holding her in his arms a mere four hours ago. She stared at his hand as if it were a snake that might bite her but, realizing that to refuse his polite gesture would raise unnecessary questions, she relented and offered her hand. As his hand closed around the warmth of her skin images of their time together immediately assaulted his brain.

  He fixed a polite smile on his face even as his mind wreaked havoc on his ability to stay focused. There was no denying she was beautiful but it wasn’t as if she was the first beautiful woman he’d ever run across. There was something about her, though, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he’d already slept with her, that frankly messed with his ability to think straight. He refocused with effort. “I was just making introductions to the team when you came in. I’ll do a quick recap for you. I’m from Wyoming. I’m used to cold weather. I love the snow, although I’m not a huge fan of fish and that might be my undoing.”

  “You just haven’t had fish properly prepared. Miranda, you ought to give him your smothered halibut and rice recipe,” Mary suggested. “If you weren’t a fan of fish before moving to Homer, you will be soon enough. We have more ways to cook a fish than you can shake a stick at. You’ll learn to love it.”

  “I didn’t realize that Homer was such a big halibut outlet. As far as loving fish, I’ll just have to take that on faith because I’m probably the only guy in Wyoming who didn’t enjoy the sport.”

  Miranda appeared stymied as he made small talk in the hopes of putting everyone at ease. He was relieved when she was appropriately cordial, even a little on the stiff side. “Welcome to Homer,” she said, meeting his gaze for the briefest of moments before quickly moving on.

  The statement was appropriate to the situation but he couldn’t help but wonder if she was referencing his short little note that had been meant to be witty and tongue-in-cheek, which frankly made him want to clap his hand over his face for leaving a note in the first place.

  “Miranda is the best tracker in the state,” Mary offered with pride, but Miranda seemed uncomfortable with the compliment and actually murmured something to the contrary to which the woman immediately disagreed. “Now, don’t let her tell you that she’s not. She’s going to tell you that her brother Trace is the best tracker, and don’t get me wrong, he is good, better than good. But Miranda has a gift and if I were lost in those mountains I’d want her looking for me.”

  He lifted his brow at the praise and the way Miranda seemed discomfited by it and wondered what had happened in this woman’s life to make her the way she was. It was a mystery that he didn’t want to figure out but it pulled at him just the same. He pushed on. “Your previous director shared his admiration for Miranda’s skill. I’m pleased to have someone with such talent on my team.” And he left it at that. The previous director had also shared that Miranda was hardheaded, at times difficult, and downright ornery. One thing the previous director hadn’t mentioned was how mind-jarringly gorgeous she was. Stop going there. Was this going to be a problem? He refocused again. “I promise I’ll do my best to lead this team as well as your previous director. I know I have big shoes to fill. Or should I say snowshoes.” Gahhh...now he was just disintegrating into bad comedy because his brain had turned to mush. The polite chuckles that followed made him want to assure them that he wouldn’t be that guy who was always cracking jokes and trying to be the office card. But Miranda saved him by interjecting.

  “Are we finished with the introductions...?” she asked. She was clearly impatient to get on with her day and he didn’t blame her. There was plenty of work to be done that had nothing to do with the awkwardness between them.

  “Miranda, don’t be rude,” murmured her friend with a mildly worried tone. “There’s nothing wrong with getting to know our new director.”

  Miranda’s face blanched and Jeremiah thought she might actually say something that would reveal their inappropriate encounter, but she recovered well and simply shrugged as if to say this is me—take it or leave it. He had to respect the way she was handling things and was happy to take his cue from her.

  “No, she’s right. We all have plenty of work to do and I’m keeping you from it to blather on about my past when what’s really important is the future. I’ll trust you to get to your regular schedules and I will work to catch up. So for now I’m going to lock myself in my new office to try and get my bearings. We can reconvene at lunch. Sound like a plan?” There were murmurs of assent as everyone began to disperse, and Miranda wasted no time in disappearing. The fact that his stare wanted to follow wherever she went was troubling but he had bigger issues to deal with and that included establishing himself as the new director of the Homer Department of Fish and Game, above and apart from his personal dilemma. Work had always had the power of distracting him from whatever was happening in his life. This new complication would be no different.

  * * *

  MIRANDA WANTED TO PUKE. She’d never been so wretchedly embarrassed by an encounter with a one-night stand and that included the unfortunate nuisance of Luke Prather trailing her like a lovesick hound after their one night together. If her mother had been counting on karma to bite her in the ass for all of her past bad behavior it was coming to pass right at this moment. Miranda couldn’t disappear into her office fast enough but, of course, locking herself away to wallow in her misery wasn’t on the agenda. Mary, the office mate who had been singing her praises so embarrassingly to Jeremiah, was quick to follow.

  “Girl, you are running like the devil is on your heels. What’s gotten into you?”

  Miranda wiped the dot of sweat that beaded her brow as her adrenaline raced through her veins and wished she could get a do-over for the past twenty-four hours. She should’ve listened to Russ when he’d said to stop drinking. She should have chosen to stay home instead of dropping Talen off at his grandmother’s so she could drink herself stupid. She should have read a book, watched a movie, dug a dit
ch—anything that would have kept her from bedding her boss. But it wasn’t as if she could tell Mary that. It wasn’t as if she could tell anyone. In fact, the one person she could talk to about this was the one person she didn’t want to talk to about it. “I’m just not excited about meeting the person who took my job.” Well, that was half-true. She’d thought for sure the director position had been hers and it’d been a nasty surprise when she’d learned that she had, in fact, not been selected. “What do you think of him?”

  Mary, a middle-aged woman who liked to consider herself hip and cool because she tweeted on her phone every five seconds like the teenagers did even though half the time she did it wrong, considered the question for a minute then nodded decisively. “I like him.”

  “Why?” The question popped from Miranda’s mouth before she could stop it and Mary graced her with a quizzical expression for her sour reaction. Miranda tried to do some damage control. “I mean, how do you know that he’s good for the job? I can’t imagine anyone would do a better job than me. I know this place like the back of my hand, and that’s saying a lot considering how big Alaska is.” She was babbling, throwing out excuses for her odd behavior, but Mary didn’t seem to notice, which didn’t say much for her usual behavior. “I’m just saying, just because he’s nice on the eyes doesn’t mean he’s the right man for the job. You know what I mean?”

  Mary frowned. “I think you should give him a chance. I know you’re disappointed that you didn’t get the job, and you would have been a great director, but the fact of the matter is, unless you want to start job hunting, you’d better start getting on board. You’re not going to make any points by cheesing off the new boss.”

  Miranda fought to keep her expression from revealing the turmoil churning her brain but she felt off-kilter, which was something that rarely happened to her. If only Mary knew how many points she may have made between the sheets last night, not that those points could help her now. Crap. What a mess. Why couldn’t the new boss have been a troll? Someone more like their old boss. Virgil Eckhart had been a short, squat, balding man with a barrel chest and a fondness for cheap cigars that he only got the opportunity to smoke when he was ice fishing because his wife hated the smell. There was no way in hell Miranda would’ve ever wanted to sleep with him. Not even if it had meant a promotion. But then, Virgil had become something of a father figure when her own father simply checked out emotionally. She slowly refocused when she realized Mary was waiting for a response. “Don’t worry,” she said, trying to put Mary at ease. “I’ll make nice with the new boss.” Cringe. “I have no interest in job hunting anytime soon.”

  Mary’s relief was evident in her wide smile. “Thank God. I was worried that you were going to be a bit of a pill with the new boss. I should have known you’d be mature about it. I’m sorry for not giving you the credit you deserve. Honestly, I don’t know what I was worried about now that I think about it. You’re not the hotheaded kid you used to be. You’re a mother, for crying out loud. Sheesh. Sometimes I embarrass myself. Jim is always telling me to stop being so dramatic.”

  Miranda laughed, the sound hollow to her ears, yet Mary remained oblivious to her distress, thank heaven. “You worry too much, Mary. Now, don’t you have work to do?” she teased. “Go on, get out of here.”

  Mary left the office and Miranda expelled an audible sigh. “Of all the rotten luck...”

  Was karma kicking her in the ass for everything she’d been doing over the past years? It hardly seemed fair when karma had already kicked the shit out of their family.

  Laughter rang in her memory, pulling her away from her present pickle and into a time before her sister had died.

  “Your snowboarding skills are about as good as your cooking skills,” Wade had teased Simone as he slowed to a stop beside her with a laugh. She’d landed on her rear for the third time as she’d tried unsuccessfully to slow down properly and instead simply tumbled to her behind in a spray of snow.

  “Stop laughing and help me up,” Simone grumbled, then wobbled and lost her balance, falling again. She slapped the snow and pouted. “I hate snowboarding. I want to go back to skis.”

  Miranda pulled up alongside her baby sister as Wade and Trace followed on their boards. They’d all switched from skis to boards except Simone, and she was having a difficult time making the transition. “Don’t give up, Simone. We all fall when we’re learning. Are you going to be a quitter just because it’s hard?” she asked. “Give it a chance. Besides, if you don’t want to be left behind, you need to learn.”

  “Come on, klutz,” Trace said as he and Wade helped Simone to her feet. “You got this. Try again. It’ll get easier.”

  “It won’t. I suck at it.”

  “It’s true. You kinda do,” Miranda agreed, earning a black look from her twelve-year-old sister as Simone wiped the snow from her snowsuit. “But,” Miranda added with a wink, “at least you look good doing it.”

  At the small compliment, Simone broke out into a reluctant smile, which seemed to bolster her courage and firm her determination. “Okay. I’ll try one more time but that’s it.” She sighed and looked to Trace and Wade. “Show me again how to stop....”

  But Simone wasn’t a quitter in spite of her complaints, and after plenty of ribbing, lots of laughter and more than a few tumbles, Simone finally caught on. After that the Sinclair family had been unstoppable on the slopes. In fact, in time, snowboarding had become Simone and Miranda’s favorite pastime together.

  Miranda smiled as she remembered their times at Olson Mountain as teens. Miranda had been eighteen and getting ready to leave for college while Simone had been a know-it-all fifteen-year-old who’d been prettier than any young teen ought to be.

  “If you did something more with your hair than just throwing it up in a ponytail, you’d probably get more dates,” Simone had advised as they rode the tow rope up the mountain. Miranda cast her young sister a derisive look and Simone laughed. “No, I’m serious. You’re so pretty but no one would ever know because you’re always acting like a boy. Try a little mascara once in a while, you know?”

  “I don’t have any problem getting dates.”

  “Okay, well, how about a boyfriend?”

  “I don’t need a boyfriend right before I leave for college.”

  “Good point,” she said as if she hadn’t thought of it from that angle. “Don’t want to be tied down. College is filled with yummy college boys.”

  “Ugh, kid. You’re too boy crazy. Focus on school. Have you thought of what you want to do with the rest of your life?”

  “Miranda, live a little, please. Right now I’m focused on my next dance recital and my cheer competition in Anchorage. Anything above and beyond that is way past my interest level.”

  “You mean that and your unusual interest in my love life,” Miranda quipped.

  “Well, what are big sisters for if not for introducing their hot college friends to their cute little sisters?”

  Miranda laughed. “Glad to know I’m good for something.”

  Simone smiled brightly and it was hard not to love the kid to distraction. She just had a way about her that was plainly adorable. Simone had been born with magic in her veins.

  Miranda closed her eyes, waiting out the echo of grief that followed the memories, until she could safely open her eyes without tears.

  How would their lives have been different if Simone had lived?

  She supposed it was human nature to wonder, to travel down a road that she knew was a dead end, but when she found herself walking that path most times she became irritated. Simone had died. End of story.

  The minute she’d successfully shut down thoughts of her sister, a different sort of unwelcome thought crashed into her mind that was equally irritating but hard to ignore.

  If the situation were different, and Miranda had met Jeremiah under completely
different circumstances, maybe... No, don’t go there. That’s not how we met. That’s not our story. Stop trying to rewrite the ending.

  But even as she stamped down any flicker of wistfulness, there was a part of her that refused to let it go. There was a moment last night when wrapped in his arms she’d felt at home, relaxed. Of course, this was completely at odds with how she usually felt after spending an evening with a man. What a fantasy.

  She’d come to the realization that whatever essential component was required for a long-lasting monogamous relationship was utterly broken inside of her. If she were being petty, she would blame that on Talen’s father, but that was being weak. Fact of the matter was, even though Johnny hadn’t known the meaning of the word monogamous, she hadn’t been blind to that from the beginning. Hadn’t expected it, either. So when word came back to her that he’d been messing around, she hadn’t been surprised when she felt nothing for the betrayal. Inside Miranda’s chest where her heart should have been was a lump of ice that, apart from her love for her son, was deeper and colder than the oldest glacier. And every man who’d had the misfortune of mistakenly trusting her with his heart and feelings had left the relationship soured and disillusioned. Miranda just wasn’t the type to settle down and play house.

  And a part of her hated that about herself. But if there was one thing she knew, it was that you couldn’t run from whom you truly were and so she didn’t even try.

  One hidden blessing in all this mess was that she wouldn’t have to worry about Jeremiah mooning over her, hoping for a relationship out of their torrid encounter. He looked just as ready as she to completely forget last night.

  And Miranda was more than willing to play along. As far as she was concerned, they never happened.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  JEREMIAH SURVEYED HIS new office, taking time to note small details. He didn’t much care that it wasn’t fancy or the epitome of a corner office—he’d never been one to put much value on those sorts of things—but he did appreciate his own personal coffeepot in the office. He went to the machine and attempted to make a fresh pot of coffee but found himself stymied when he plugged it in and no signs of life happened. He was so busy trying to make the coffeepot work he didn’t realize someone had entered his office.