The Indy Man

by Janet Dailey

  'What's one dance going to hurt?' he shrugged in a coaxing gesture.

  'Warren—' Susan began, glancing self-consciously over her shoulder.

  'Warren isn't here.' With slight pressure, he disentangled her hands and drew her toward him. 'And while he's away, the cat is going to play—with the mouse.'

  Susan cast a helpless look to Anna, seeking aid from her friend as she unresistingly allowed Mitch to lead her away. But Anna was lost in some silent speculation of her own and missed the wordless plea for help.

  At the edge of the impromptu dance floor, the beat song ended and the music changed to a slow, romantic tune. 'This couldn't have worked out better if I'd planned it,' Mitch smiled slowly, and drew Susan around into his arms.

  For several steps, she allowed her mind to concentrate only on following his lead. Then gradually her physical sense began to register impressions in her brain and she was unable to ignore him.

  There was a clean, fresh scent about him that was definitely pleasing. His fingers were spread across the small of her back, molding her gently against him until she could feel the muscular strength in his legs and narrow hips.

  She was staring at the knot of his black tie, yet she was very conscious of the strong-columned throat and the width of his shoulders beneath the black evening suit. The caressing warmth of his breath was near her temple. There seemed to be a steady increase in the rate of her heartbeat.

  Her hand stiffened against his shoulder in protest to the way he was affecting her. 'Would you please not hold me so close?' she requested lowly.

  'Why not?' he asked in the same low tone that sounded disturbingly sensual at these close quarters.

  'Because it isn't right,' Susan answered, trying to breathe normally.

  There was a testing movement of his hand on her back. 'It feels right,' murmured Mitch.

  'Well, it doesn't look right,' she replied in an almost desperate whisper.

  He tipped his head downward, his mouth moving against her dark hair as he spoke. 'To whom?'

  'To everyone.' Her heart was thudding against her ribs, a traitorous weakness flowing into her limbs. She glanced wildly around the room, pulling away from the warm breath that teased the hair at her temples, but only Anna appeared to be watching them. 'Mitch, please don't do that.'

  A finger touched her chin to draw her gaze back to his face. There was no laughing curve in his mouth. The bronze tan of his cheeks, smoothly shaven from cheekbone to jawline, invited her caress. The teasing glitter was absent from his eyes, but their darkening blue fire made Susan feel warm all over.

  'Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting to hear you say my name?'

  'I—' Susan faltered. No man should be so handsome! His gaze became riveted on her lips and she couldn't think straight.

  'This is a fine time to be in the middle of a dance floor, isn't it, darling?' A faint, dry smile curved his mouth.

  She breathed in sharply. 'Don't call me that!'

  'Why not?' he asked complacently. 'That's the way I think of you. Honey, darling—'

  'Stop it!' Susan quickly lowered her gaze to the white of his shirt collar. 'You forget I'm engaged.'

  'I haven't forgotten.'

  'Then would you please leave me alone!' she protested, filled with a strange anger that she didn't understand.

  'Do you mean here, right this minute?' A quick glance revealed his expression was serious in spite of the teasing lightness in his voice.

  Susan looked around at the other couples, knowing eyebrows would rise if she and Mitch parted company in the middle of a song. Her wandering gaze was caught by Warren standing in the veranda doorway. His withdrawn expression was cold with displeasure. At that moment Anna approached Warren and Susan's gaze was released.

  She swung it back to the black cloth of Mitch's jacket. 'Warren is here,' she muttered nervously.

  'Am I supposed to quake in my shoes?' he asked in an amused tone.

  'Oh, Mitch, would you be serious?' Susan demanded impatiently.

  'Believe me, I'm very serious.'

  She let the double meaning of his comment sail over her head. 'I don't want there to be any trouble.'

  'You, mean that you don't want any fights started,' Mitch defined. 'Most women would feel complimented to have two men coming to blows over them.'

  'I wouldn't, so please don't … don't rile him.'

  'Are you afraid I might get hurt?'

  She had felt the sinewy strong muscles in his chest, arms and thighs. Warren might have a weight advantage, but Mitch Braden was in much better physical condition.

  Susan shook her head. 'I just don't want any trouble.'

  'I wouldn't worry,' Mitch replied. 'Your fiancé is an attorney. He fights with words.'

  'And you believe that actions speak louder?'

  He shrugged indifferently. 'Let's just say that former opponents have indicated that I'm experienced with both.'

  There was little doubt in her mind that he spoke the truth. She remembered the first meeting when his mock-serious comments had demolished Warren's composure to the point that he had lied about his and Susan's being married.

  'Please, Mitch, don't start anything, for my sake,' Susan requested humbly.

  The glint of humor left his gaze as it traveled over her upturned face. His solemn expression made her suddenly aware of an unrelenting quality in his handsome features. Beneath the surface charm and roguish air was a man of iron determination, incapable of wavering once he had set his mind on a goal.

  'You have my word,' he answered evenly, 'for this once.'

  And Susan knew instinctively that Mitch would keep his promise. She breathed an inaudible sigh of relief and smiled. A corner of his mouth quirked in response.

  Their steps automatically ceased as the last note of the song faded. The lull in the music made Susan aware of the voices and laughter that filled the house.

  The smile left her face before she turned to make her way toward Warren, Mitch's arm curved lightly across her back for his hand to rest on the side of her waist. The light possession was removed when they reached Warren.

  'Hello, Warren.' Susan smiled with an attempt at naturalness as she moved to his side and slipped a hand beneath his elbow. His dark eyes gave her a sense of guilt even though she knew she had done nothing wrong.

  'Susan,' he acknowledged, her with a cool smile.

  'I've returned her to you safe and unharmed, Mr. Sullivan,' Mitch commented, inclining his head with mock condescension.

  'Thank you, Mr. Braden.' Susan could feel Warren's tense anger.

  'And thank you for the dance, Miss Mabry.' Cynical laughter glittered in the blue eyes that were turned to her. 'Is that polite enough for you?'

  'Y—you're quite welcome,' Susan acknowledged before glancing anxiously at the puckering frown of confusion in Warren's face.

  'Forgive me, Mr. Sullivan,' Mitch apologized. 'Susan has been giving me a lesson in manners.'

  A black brow arched inquiringly at Susan, the imposing arrogance of Warren's stance commanding her attention. Then his dark gaze slid back to Mitch Braden.

  'I hope you didn't find it too difficult to learn,' he offered complacently.

  'It wasn't easy to accept, Mr. Sullivan, believe me,' responded Mitch, dry-voiced. He glanced to Anna and her husband Frank Kemper. 'Anna, Frank,' he greeted them with a nod of his head. 'Excuse me, won't you? I think I'll go find the refreshment bar.'

  With that Mitch moved away, walking lightly on the balls of his feet like an athlete. An uneasy silence followed his departure, one that neither Susan nor the couple standing next to her were willing to break.

  'How did he succeed in crashing the party?' Warren muttered, staring after Mitch.

  Frank Kemper ran a hand through his curling brown hair, hiding the glitter of amusement that appeared briefly in his brown eyes. 'I would guess he came with the Colesons. Their son is one of his chief mechanics and design engineers.'

  'Are you acquainted with him,
Frank?' Warren glanced curiously at his friend.

  'Yes, although actually he's more Anna's friend than mine.'

  The reply had Warren arching a brow of surprise at Frank's ash blonde wife. Anna glanced hesitantly at her husband as if asking him just how she should explain before replying.

  'Mitch and I grew up in the same small town in Michigan. Of course, he's older than I am, but our parents were always good friends. We've been more or less like cousins,' Anna concluded.

  'I see,' Warren drawled.

  But Susan wasn't certain if she did. That hadn't been exactly a cousinly kiss Anna had received on the neck from Mitch. At the same time they had been more than cousins. Susan didn't have time to consider the thought further as Warren claimed her attention.

  'I certainly hope you put him in his place once and for all,' he said.

  'I doubt if anyone could do that,' Anna commented. 'That's supposing Mitch Braden had a place.'

  Susan agreed, but she did so silently.

  'Are you ready to leave, Susan?' Warren's hand closed possessively over the slender fingers resting on his arm.

  'Yes, if you are.' She glanced into his face, seeing that the remoteness and coldness were gone. The ardent light in his dark eyes said she was forgiven for whatever it was that she had done wrong.

  'I am,' he smiled, his rugged features possessing a wondrous softness with the action.

  'So soon?' Anna sighed, then smiled understandingly at the engaged couple. 'Very well, I'll walk with Susan while she gets her coat.'

  'I won't be long,' Susan promised Warren before leaving to get her wrap. As she and Anna left the glassed veranda for the main living area of the house, she took a deep, calming breath. 'You never did tell me how the children were.'

  'And you never did tell me how you met Mitch.' A pair of hazel eyes twinkled back.

  Susan paused for a second. 'It isn't a pleasant memory.'

  'I can't believe that,' her friend laughed shortly. 'Tell me about it.'

  After relating an accurate version of the first encounter in the restaurant, Susan tacked on a shortened version of Mitch stopping to aid them on the highway. She didn't know why she hadn't refused to discuss it with Anna.

  'No wonder Warren was livid with jealousy when he saw you dancing with him,' Anna declared with decided amusement. 'Only Mitch would walk up to a total stranger and tell him how beautiful he thinks the man's date is.'

  'Since you know him, I wish you'd tell him to leave me alone,' Susan sighed.

  'Does he bother you?'

  'It's embarrassing to have him following me around. I mean, I'm engaged.'

  'Don't ask me to believe you don't find him attractive,' Anna smiled widely. 'No woman is immune to his looks and charm.'

  Susan tipped her head to the side, gazing at her friend with curious speculation. 'Including you, Anna?'

  Nonplussed, the blonde glanced away. 'That's a question that requires a delicately phrased answer from a married woman like myself. I'm not immune to Mitch,' she sighed ruefully. 'He can still make me feel like I'm very much a woman, but not in that special way that Frank does. I'm very much in love with my husband and I wouldn't trade him for anyone else even if I could.'

  'But you and Mitch were more than just make-believe cousins once?' Susan voiced the impression she had received earlier.

  They entered the guest room being used as a powder room for the party that evening. Susan paused near one of the mirrors, waiting for the response to her half-statement and half-question. Anna lowered her voice so she couldn't be over-heard by the other chattering women in the room.

  'There was a time,' she acknowledged, frankly meeting Susan's gaze, 'when I was very much infatuated with Mitch. I could have easily fallen in love with him if I'd received the slightest encouragement. But he let me down easy, never once hurting my feelings or damaging our friendship.'

  Guilty at having pried into something that was none of her business, Susan looked away. 'I'm sorry, Anna. I had no right to ask that. You should have told me not to be so nosy.'

  'I don't mind.' Anna shook her head, absently watching as Susan retrieved her spring coat. 'Mitch has been racing for several years now. Well, actually he's been racing cars since he was in high school, but only in the last few years has he been winning consistently. With his looks and personality, the press automatically tagged him as the bachelor playboy of the circuit. But he isn't a shallow person, Susan. He's very warm and very sincere and very intelligent. Frank says Mitch has an uncanny knack for making the right investment and a very astute business mind.'

  'Why are you telling me all this?' Susan frowned.

  'Because …' Anna shrugged uncertainly, 'because of the attention he's paying you, I guess.'

  'I'm flattered, of course, but—'

  Anna interrupted. 'What I'm really saying is that if I'd received the encouragement you have, I'd already be in love with him.'

  Nervously Susan turned away, her fingers fidgeting with the lining of her coat. 'You're forgetting that I'm already in love with Warren and we're going to be married in August.'

  'Yes, I suppose I was,' the other girl agreed with self-conscious brightness. 'Speaking of Warren, he's probably worried that Mitch has waylaid you somewhere.'

  Draping the light coat over her arm, Susan turned, an equally false smile on her face. She didn't like the vague stirrings of uneasiness she felt.

  'We'd better be getting back,' she nodded.

  As the two girls retraced their path to the veranda, Susan spied Mitch standing in the far corner of a room talking with two men. His gaze flicked to her at almost the same instant. There was an almost imperceptible nod of his head to acknowledge her look but no flashing smile to make her heart quicken.

  When Susan walked through the room again at Warren's side, she refused to let her gaze be drawn to that corner of the room. Mitch Braden was physically attractive, but there was room for only one man in her life and that was Warren. She didn't intend to complicate things by encouraging Mitch, however unconsciously.

  In the car she snuggled close to Warren, needing his nearness to chase away the shivers of apprehension that danced over her skin. When the car was started and they were on the road, he slid his arm around her shoulders and nestled her closer.

  'Love me, Susan?' he asked, taking his attention from the road long enough to brush a kiss against the side of her hair.

  'You know I do, darling,' she answered fervently, and wondered why she was so desperate to convince Warren of the fact.

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  Chapter Four

  WARREN bent over Susan's desk, adding the typed notes she had given him to the stack of papers clipped together in his hand. He barely glanced at her as he issued instructions with a preoccupied air.

  'I shall probably be with my father all afternoon. Hold all my calls unless Con Anderson phones. Put him straight through,' he ordered crisply.

  'I will,' Susan acknowledged.

  Warren straightened. 'I'm beginning to look forward to my father entering the hospital tomorrow.' A sardonic smile lifted the corners of his mouth. 'Maybe the office will settle into some semblance of routine again.'

  A faint, agreeing smile appeared briefly on her lips, but Warren was already gathering his papers together and starting for the hall door.

  Susan sighed and glanced at the small desk calendar. A silent prayer of thanks was offered that the three-day Memorial weekend was only two days away. She would welcome the time to recover from this hectic pace that seemed to require a constant juggling of appointments and schedules.

  The hall door closed behind Warren as Susan swiveled to her typewriter, reaching for the earpiece of the dictaphone. The ringing of the telephone checked her movement.

  'Warren Sullivan's office,' Susan answered in her courteous, professional voice.

  'Hello, beautiful,' was the immediate response.

  Susan froze, unable to breathe or speak. It couldn't possibly be Mitch Braden. He wo
uld never call her at work, would he?

  'Did you wish to speak to Mr. Sullivan?' she asked coolly.

  'Hardly,' Mitch chuckled.

  The hall door opened and Susan quickly placed her hand over the receiver mouthpiece as Warren strode into her office. 'Forgot my notepad,' he said in explanation, walking to her desk and retrieving the legal size pad of yellow paper. He glanced at the telephone in her hand. 'Is that for me? Find out who it is. I might not be in.'

  'No,' she said hurriedly. 'It's for me.' A curious light entered Warren's dark eyes. It was a rarity for Susan to receive a personal call at the office. 'It's … it's my mother,' she lied. 'She wants me to pick up some things at the store on my way home.'

  With a satisfied nod, he turned to the hall door. 'Give her my regards,' he tossed over his shoulder absently.

  Susan let out the deep breath she had been holding and slipped her hand away from the mouthpiece of the telephone. She didn't speak until the door was firmly closed behind Warren and she heard his footsteps echoing down the outside hall.

  'What was it you wanted, Mr. Braden? I'm very busy,' she inquired with cool hauteur.

  His tongue clicked reprovingly in her ear. 'Lying to your boss is one thing, Susan, but lying to your fiancé? Shame on you!' he mocked.

  An embarrassed red warmed her neck. 'If you've merely called to—' she began angrily.

  'To invite you on a guided tour of the race grounds tonight,' Mitch interrupted lazily, 'with a stop for dinner afterward.'

  'I'm busy.'

  'Tomorrow night isn't possible, I know,' he said with remarkable indifference to her sharp tone. 'Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday nights are when you have your appointments with Warren.'

  'They're dates,' Susan corrected.

  'All right, they're dates,' Mitch conceded. 'Now, when are you and I going to have a date? It's been four days since I saw you last. Haven't you missed me?'

  'Was I supposed to?' The coldness of her voice was to help freeze away the image of his handsome face that kept trying to dance into her mind.

  'I hoped you would,' he replied with a warm huskiness in his voice that made his words almost a physical caress. Susan swallowed, trying to ease the tightness in her throat. Her pulse was skipping erratically. 'I want to see you tonight, Susan. I promise I'll be a good little boy.'