by Linda Turner
“But you’re much bigger than she is,” Becky pointed out reasonably. “What if there’s a really big monster under the bed? He could eat Aunt Phoebe in one bite.”
His mouth twitched into a rueful grin as he looked down at her from his six-foot-two height. “So if he’s going to eat somebody, you’d rather he eat me, huh? Is that what you’re saying?”
“But he wouldn’t,” Robby argued, flashing his dimples at him. “How could he? One punch and you could knock him out of his shoes. Aunt Phoebe’s a girl.” He cast an apologetic look at Phoebe, but facts were facts. “She can’t hit that hard.”
Phoebe couldn’t dispute that. She’d never developed a knockout punch. Then again, she’d never thought she needed one, especially for monsters that didn’t even exist. But that, she realized, wasn’t the issue here. The kids felt comfortable with Mitch and trusted him to protect them. To be hurt by that was ridiculous. After all, it wasn’t as if they were choosing him over her. They just wanted to include him in their nightly ritual.
“Robby’s right,” she said quietly. “I’m better at handling gremlins and imps. And if it’s all the same to you, Mitch, I’d just as soon you handle the big dragons and monsters. They’ve got fleas and really stinky breath, and it’s a nasty job. Not that I can’t do it,” she assured him quickly. “But since I’ve been sick and everything, it would be nice if you could take over for me until I get my strength back.”
Her gaze met his unflinchingly, and there was no doubting her sincerity. Still, he hesitated, his eyes searching hers before he finally nodded, a half smile curling his mouth. “Sure. I can do that—just until you get your strength back, of course. So who’s going to back me up in case I get in trouble? Becky? How about you, Robby? You’re not going to let me check out your closet all by myself, are you?”
Not the least afraid of being thought a coward, Becky took a quick step back. Robby, on the other hand, was more than willing to play the man of the family—as long as Mitch led the way. His chin up and his shoulders back, he was two steps behind him as they headed into the bedroom.
There were no dragons, of course. No monsters in hiding, waiting for the chance to jump out of the closet and grab a sleeping child in the middle of the night. Phoebe knew that deep down, the kids knew that, but after all that they had been through, they needed that extra little bit of reassurance that they were safe. Once they had that, they were always able to go to bed without a whimper of protest; and tonight was no different. As soon as Mitch gave the all-clear, they gave both him and Phoebe each a big hug and scampered off to bed as if they didn’t have a care in the world.
As soon as the bedroom door shut behind them, Phoebe found herself alone with Mitch for the first time since he’d kissed her like he couldn’t get enough of her, then left her to pick up the kids at school. And suddenly the apartment seemed too small, the living room too intimate. The air was humming with expectation and she couldn’t for the life of her say why. Skittish, feeling like her heart was going to pound right out of her chest, she said quickly, “I think 1 need a snack,” and headed for the kitchen like the hounds of hell were after her.
Too late, she realized that she’d made a mistake. He followed her, of course, and seemed to take up all the air in the kitchen just by stepping across the threshold. “I’ll get it,” he told her, and moved to intercept her when she reached for a bowl in the cabinet. His shoulder bumped hers, their hands collided, and without quite knowing how it happened, they were kissing-close.
Startled, Phoebe told herself to move, but there was no place to go. The L shape of the counter was at her side and back, and Mitch blocked any other escape. His eyes met hers, time ground to a stop, and all she wanted to do was step into his arms. Panicking, she blurted out, “We need to talk.”
“All right,” he agreed. “What’s on your mind?”
She expected him to step back and give her some space, but instead, he planted a hand on the counter on either side of her and gave her his full, undivided attention. Effectively trapped, Phoebe not only forgot why she had come into the kitchen, but what she wanted to say to him, as well. “Mitch—”
With her heart thundering like a 747 racing down the runway for liftoff, that was all she could manage—just his name. Helplessly, she stared up at him, her mind blank, and watched as amusement spilled into his blue eyes, making them dance.
His lips twitching, he arched an eyebrow at her. “Well? What’d you want to talk about?”
She should have told him about the kids and her concern that they would grow to depend on him and then he would walk out of their life. But all she could think of was how close he was and kisses that never should have happened, so she said the one thing she shouldn’t have said. “Us.”
The minute the damning word popped out, she would have given anything to take it back. Dear God, what was she thinking of? There was no us! Not with Mitch.
Grinning broadly, he reached out and traced the blush that colored her cheeks. “Us, as in you and me? Why, Phoebe, I didn’t know you cared.”
He was teasing—she knew that—but still she couldn’t stop from stuttering, “I—I don’t! I mean—dammit, Mitch, you’ve got to stop that!”
“Stop what?” As innocent as a choir boy, he tucked a wayward curl behind her ear.
“That!”
Catching his hand, she pushed it away, only to have his fingers twine with hers as naturally as if they’d been holding hands all their life. God, why did it have to feel so right? As if he was a part of her that had always been missing until now? As if the whole world could be falling down around her ears and she would be all right as long as she had him to hold on to? What had he done to her? When? And how could it end in anything but heartbreak? He was an incredibly attractive, sexy man, but he’d told her himself that it was his money that women found irresistible. She wasn’t looking for a man, but if she had been, why would he think she was any different from any of the other women who’d shown an interest in him over the years? Especially considering her financial situation. He knew better than anyone that she didn’t have two nickels to rub together.
Unable to stop her fingers from clinging to his, she said huskily, “We had an agreement.”
“True.”
Agitated, she hardly heard him. “You promised—”
“That there would be no ‘hanky-panky,’” he finished for her easily. “I know. And I’m a man of my word.”
That was such an outrageous fabrication that Phoebe could do nothing but gape at him. “I can’t believe you said that with a straight face! Just this afternoon you... you...”
“What?”
“Kissed me!” she blurted out, exasperated.
“So?”
“So? Dammit, Mitch, you promised!” She saw the laughter in his eyes then, the wicked mischief, and punched him in the shoulder. “Oh, you! Dammit, I’m serious! You can’t just go around kissing me whenever you like.”
Enjoying himself, he said baldly, “I don’t know why not. You’re a damn good kisser.”
“But you agreed there’d be no hanky-panky!”
“And there hasn’t been.” Pretending confusion, he frowned and edged closer. “Maybe you’d better clear up just what you consider hanky-panky. It might have a different definition in Dallas.”
“Mitch! You know perfectly well what it means.”
He did, of course, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to tease her a little more. Struggling to hold back a smile, he told her solemnly, “I know what I think it means, but you could have a different opinion. So just to make sure there are no misunderstandings later, we’d better get this cleared up right now. No,” he said quickly when she looked as if she was going to object, “it’s all right. I don’t mind explaining myself. When two people make a deal, it’s always best to make sure they’re on the same page. Especially when they’re living together.”
Leaning down before she could guess his intentions, he nuzzled her neck playfully. “What about
this? Is this hanky? Or panky? Hmmm? Whaddaya think?”
She should have pushed him away—he half expected her to—but when he trailed kisses down the side of her neck, her breath hitched in her throat and she just seemed to go boneless on him. Groaning, he gathered her closer. “God, I love it when you do that! It’s so damn sexy.”
Tilting her head to the side to give him better access, she couldn’t keep her eyes open—or remember why this conversation was so important. “I can’t... think. Maybe you shouldn’t...”
“We’ll go over that one again in a minute,” he promised huskily, smiling as he took her hand. “What about touching? Nothing intimate,” he assured her when she lifted eyes dazed with need to his. “Nothing dangerous. Just simple, innocent touching. The kind of thing strangers do every day of the week when they shake hands.”
He made it sound easy and natural, uncomplicated, but there was nothing innocent about the way he lingered over her hand. Gazing into her palm as if it held the answer to every question he’d ever had about her, he stroked and caressed and seduced with a touch that was featherlight, setting every nerve ending in her body tingling. Then, when she was trembling, he did nothing more than slowly, gently trace the curve of her lifeline and her heart jumped in her breast. With a will of their own, her fingers curled around his.
“Mitch, please...”
Flushed, her throat tight and a need she couldn’t control heating her blood, she meant to tell him he had to stop, but even as she opened her mouth to do just that, it was already too late. “And then there’s kissing, of course,” he murmured seriously, turning his attention to her mouth. “Most people would probably say that has to be hanky-panky, but there’re all kinds of kisses. There are hello and goodbye kisses,” he continued huskily, giving her two chaste kisses on the mouth. “And kisses on the cheek and forehead and even on the nose. People do it all the time and nobody thinks a thing of it.”
He had a point, one she had to agree with. “I don’t have a problem with that—”
“Then there are the kisses between a man and a woman,” he growled softly. “The kind a man gives a woman when he first meets her and he’s attracted to her, but he doesn’t want to scare her off. You know the kind.” Just to make sure there was no misunderstanding, he pressed a gentle, closed-mouth kiss to her lips, giving her just a touch of hunger, of heat. Murmuring her name, he lifted his mouth from hers, but only to change the angle of the kiss. Once, twice, as if he had all the time in the world, he caressed her lips with soft, nibbling kisses that teased and coaxed and seduced.
Her hands crawling up his chest to cling to him, her heart pounding and her head spinning, Phoebe knew she should have stopped him then, while she still could. But as he drew back just a fraction of an inch and his eyes, dark with intent, met hers, she knew it was already too late. He was going to kiss her, really kiss her, and this time there would be no holding back. Helplessly, she parted her lips in anticipation.
“And then, there’s the kind that a man gives a woman when all he can think about is getting her in his bed,” he whispered in a husky voice that had gone deep and rough with need. “The kind that turns the blood hot and sets the sheets on fire and makes you forget your own name. Most people would say that one goes way past hanky-panky, but I think it’s an individual thing. What about you? Do you think this is going too far?”
As quick as a conquering knight would have claimed the damsel in distress as his prize, he buried his hands in her hair, turned her mouth up to his, and devoured her. There was no other way to describe it. His tongue dueled and played with hers, demanding a response that she couldn’t have denied him if her life had depended on it. Moaning, she pressed closer and kissed him back until she did, indeed, forget her own name.
Time ceased to have meaning. Minutes passed, possibly hours, and she couldn’t summon the strength to care. Then, before she was ready for him to release her, he slowly, reluctantly lifted his mouth from hers. Caught up in the taste and feel and wonder of him, she opened dazed eyes to discover that he’d been just as caught up in the kiss as she had. His usually neat hair was mussed from her hands, his cheeks were flushed with passion, giving him a boyish look that just turned her heart upside down in her chest. Lost to everything but her aching need for him, she tightened her arms around his neck and went up on her tiptoes to kiss him again.
Groaning, Mitch would have liked nothing more than to sweep her off to his bed and lose himself in her for the rest of the night. Just one night, dammit! That was all he asked for now. But in spite of his teasing, he hadn’t forgotten that he had agreed to the conditions she had laid down before she moved in, and even if it killed him—and the way he felt right now, it just might—he was going to stand by his word.
But God, she didn’t make it easy for him! She was soft and clingy in his arms, her mouth hot and hungry under his, and he wanted her so badly he could taste it. Desire clawing at him with sharpened claws, it took all his strength of will just to wrench his mouth from hers and put her from him.
When she moaned in protest and reached for him, he groaned, the sound that was torn from his throat midway between a strangled laugh and a growl of pain. “Sweetheart, you’re killing me! We can’t do this. In case you’ve forgotten, we have an agreement.”
Confused, she frowned, struggling against his hold. “So? We don’t have to talk about that now. I just want you to kiss me.”
“You’re the one who said no hanky-panky,” he reminded her huskily. “If I keep kissing you, you’re going to get a heck of a lot more than that, honey. You’re going to end up in my bed. Is that what you want? If it’s not, you’d better tell me now because I don’t want you to have any regrets when I make love to you. The choice is yours, but you’ve got to tell me what you really want. I won’t guess, not about this.”
He wouldn’t sweep her off to bed in the heat of passion, not this first time, and he knew the second she realized it. The passion abruptly cleared from her eyes and a slow flush rose in her cheeks. She was embarrassed, and that was the last thing he wanted.
Cursing himself for not handling the situation better, he blocked her path before she could edge around him and escape into her room. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want you,” he told her roughly. “You have to know I do, Hell, half the time, I can’t keep my hands off you. But I won’t take advantage of you, Phoebe. This has to be what you really want, not just something that happens in the heat of the moment.”
He should have let her pass then, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Pulling her close, he gave her one last heated kiss that left no doubt in either of their minds just how badly he wanted her. How he found the willpower to let her go after that, he never knew, but suddenly he was releasing her and turning her toward her bedroom. “Go think about it,” he said hoarsely, giving her a gentle push. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
If she’d have said one word, if she’d so much as hesitated, he never would have been able to let her go. But she didn’t. Without ever looking back, she hurried out of the kitchen, and it was all he could do not to call her back. Whatever possessed him to turn her down?
Phoebe spent the rest of the night dreaming of him, aching for him, wondering how she was going to ever face him again in the morning. But thanks to the kids and the return to their normal routine, that was actually easier than she’d expected. Mornings were always a madhouse, and this one was no different. The phone started ringing at seven for Mitch, Becky couldn’t find any bows for her hair, and Robby had misplaced his homework. As usual, both kids moved in slow motion, and it took a decided effort on Phoebe’s part just to light a fire under them. Urging them to hurry, she found an appropriate bow for Becky in the kitchen pantry, of all places, dug Robby’s homework out of the trash where he’d inadvertently thrown it, and still somehow managed to get breakfast down them and herself dressed before she had to rush them off to school. And all the while, thankfully, Mitch was on the phone.
She would, she knew, be unable t
o avoid working with him when she returned to the Social Club, and she was dreading it. How could she look him in the eye after last night? She’d all but begged him to make love to her, and it was only because he’d stuck to the original terms of their agreement—an agreement that she had insisted on!—that she hadn’t woken up in his bed that morning. Dear God, what must he have thought of her?
I won’t take advantage of you... This has to be what you really want, not just something that happens in the heat of the moment... Think about it. We’ll talk in the morning.
His husky words echoing in her ear as she approached the front door to the Social Club, she felt her heart skip a beat and told herself that there was really nothing to talk about. Nothing had changed just because he’d kissed her senseless last night. He was still a man who didn’t trust easily, still a man who was only in her life temporarily. If she didn’t want him to break her heart, she’d do well to remember that.
Her shoulders back, she thought she was ready for anything when she stepped into the apartment. Then her eyes landed on the suitcase Mitch had set by the front door, and her heart jerked to a stop in midbeat. Surprised, she looked up and found him at his desk, packing contracts into his briefcase. “You’re leaving?”
He nodded, grim-faced. “I’ve been getting calls all morning about Applebee. He found out one of my companies has been working on a way to extract oil from old, abandoned wells, and he’s been buying up leases in West Texas as fast as he can snatch them up. If I don’t get out there and damn quick, he’s going to cost me a bundle.”
“So where are you going?”
“Midland, Lubbock, El Paso. God knows where else. I left an itinerary on the desk with my cell number. If you can’t reach me and something crops up that you don’t know how to handle, call the office in Dallas. I may have to make a few trips back there anyway, depending on how things go. And even if I don’t, Jennifer will know where I am at all times. She can track me down if you need me.”