by Janet Dailey
Two minutes after Mitch had left the kitchen, Susan followed, making her way up the darkened stairs to the unlit hallway of the second floor. Unerringly she turned in the direction of the bathroom to clean off her makeup and brush her teeth before changing into night clothes. Her steps took her past the guest bedroom.
From inside came a stifled gasp of pain and a few savagely muttered oaths. Her eyes darted curiously to the strip of light beneath the door just as it swung open to catch her in full light.
Mitch's tall frame was in the center of the doorway, his navy blue long-sleeved shirt unbuttoned. He started to stride into the hallway, saw Susan and stopped, a dark frown on his forehead.
'Give me a hand, would you?' It was a crisp demand rather than a request as he pivoted around to reenter his room. 'I can't get my shirt off with this cast on my arm.'
Susan hesitated in the hallway, watching as Mitch impatiently tried to shrug his right arm out of the long sleeve. He glanced over his shoulder, the look in his eyes asking her what she was doing still standing in the hall.
'If you'd hold the sleeve, I think I can pull my arm out of it,' he said with a thin thread of patience.
His struggle to remove the shirt was genuine and Susan walked into his room to help. She held the sleeve while he twisted his arm, grunting once with pain.
'Now all I have to do is work the other sleeve over my cast,' he muttered, tossing her a disgruntled look. 'And to think all this is because I was tired of dangling sleeves!'
'Let me help with that,' Susan offered, stepping around to his other side to ease the shirt off the cast. 'It will be easier, I think, if we take your arm out of the sling to begin with.'
Mitch slipped his arm out of the cradle sling. Together they worked the sleeve material over the plaster cast until his arm was free.
It was difficult for Susan not to look at his naked torso. His chest was as tanned as the rest of him, muscles rippling sinewy strong with curling tawny gold hair sprinkled over the center of his smooth chest. The flat stomach and slim waist belonged to an athlete.
'Shouldn't you be wearing an elastic support for those cracked ribs of yours?' she questioned, self-consciously turning away to drape his shirt over a chair.
'You mean my corset.' His mouth quirked mockingly. 'It became more of an irritant then a help, so I took it off.'
'I see,' she murmured, glancing in his direction without quite looking at him.
At this moment, his virility was like a bright fire on a cold Indiana winter night, drawing her irresistibly to its warmth. Susan forced her disturbed senses to the rear. She stood nervously before him, not wanting to leave and knowing she didn't dare stay. 'Would you like me to help you with your pajama top?'
A naughty light danced gleefully in his blue eyes. 'I don't mean to embarrass you, but I don't sleep in pajamas.'
'Oh,' she murmured, disconcerted by the image that sprang into her mind. Lowering her gaze she noticed the sling strap had become twisted around his neck. Without thinking, she reached upward to straighten it before Mitch slipped his arm into the cradle sling. Her fingers felt icily cold compared to the fire that seemed to burn beneath his skin.
The top of her head felt the caressing warmth of his breath near it. Her lashes veiled much of her disturbed state as she looked into his eyes. A mask seemed to have been pulled over the brilliant blue, yet the directness of his gaze compelled her not to glance away.
With a certainty that frightened her, she knew she wanted Mitch to kiss her. Her hands had completed their task, but they remained lightly touching the back of his neck. His hand was resting casually on the side of her waist.
'Susan.' There was a question in his husky, caressing voice.
'Yes?' she answered, her lips parting in invitation.
Mitch slowly lowered his head toward her, prolonging the moment when their lips met as if he expected her to deny the kiss at the last second and was allowing her time to protest.
A convulsive shudder quaked through Susan at the tentative possession. His mouth moved mobilely over hers, tasting the sweetness of her lips. The stiffness, the unnamed fear began to leave her body, melting under his gentle kiss.
The hardness of the plaster cast was behind her back while his right hand lightly caressed her waist and shoulder. When he released her mouth to begin an exploring search of her face and neck, Susan kept her face upturned, eyes closed by the magic in his touch.
A sigh of longing broke from her lips an instant before he claimed them again. This time it was with firm possession, a long, drugging kiss that stole her breath and awakened her senses that she had held in limbo.
Her hands twined themselves around his neck, not needing the pressure of his hands to mold herself against his length. Arching against him, she was subconsciously aware of his muscular thighs and the solidness of his bare chest. The knowledge added itself to the buffeting storm of emotions raging inside her, sensations that Susan had never experienced before.
Reeling under the turbulent winds that rocked her, she wasn't conscious of movement under Mitch's guiding hands. The action seemed part of the whirlwind that claimed her, the result of the hardening passion in his kiss.
Then there was a strange floating sensation. Her legs no longer needed to support her. Again his mouth began exploring the sensitive hollow of her throat, drawing tiny gasps of bewildered, sensuous pleasure from deep within. His fingers spread over the naked skin of her back, igniting fresh sparks with their caress. Absently Susan acknowledged that he must have loosened her blouse from her skirt.
'Now do you see what I mean, darling?' Mitch murmured against her throat.
Her lashes blinked with confusion at the smoldering blueness of his half-closed eyes.
'Mean about what?' Susan whispered blankly. The throbbing ache in her voice begged for the words to stop and the kisses to continue.
'Seventeen minutes. That's all it took,' he answered complacently.
'Seventeen minutes?' she repeated, trying to rise above the storm that had made everything so topsy-turvy.
'This is the way it should be, my beautiful one,' he stated decisively, and leaned his head forward to nuzzle her ear.
A frown puckered her forehead as the cyclonic upheaval began to recede. A stark white cloth was behind Mitch's head. In disbelief she stared at it, then at the maple headboard of the bed inches away.
'I could have you in bed with me in twenty minutes.' The words came back with slapping force. Mitch had said that in the kitchen not—seventeen minutes ago.
Horror washed over her head as she suddenly realized what he was talking about.
'How could you do this!' she breathed with fear-widened eyes.
'Do what?' he asked with mocking indifference.
'You tried to seduce me!' she accused. The pliancy was gone as she held herself rigid under his continued caress.
'If that had been my intention, darling, you would already have been seduced,' Mitch chuckled softly.
'How dare you!' she choked on a bubble of righteous indignation.
His arms tightened when she tried to pull away. Struggling and twisting, she succeeded in breaking away from his embrace, uncaring of the muffled cry of pain Mitch made as she accidentally hit his injured ribs.
'What's the matter with you?' he muttered as he tried to follow her.
'You can ask me that!' Frantically, she pushed the end of her blouse into the waistband of her skirt.
'Darling—'
'Don't you darling me!' snapped Susan.
'Keep your voice down,' he frowned, but with considerable amusement.
'I'll talk just as loudly as I please.' Yet she spoke in a softer and more angry tone.
'Susan,' Mitch murmured, in a coaxing, placating voice meant to soothe her growing temper.
'You lured me into your room deliberately just to prove your point, didn't you?' she accused.
'Not exactly,' he hedged. 'I suppose I could have eventually fought my way out of that shirt, but I admit
I did use it to persuade you to come in.'
'I suppose you're going to try to convince me now that it was a practical joke,' she hissed. 'You have a very warped sense of humor, Mitch Braden!'
He was standing in front of her now, easily within reaching distance, but his hand remained on his hip, a mocking kind of patience in his handsome features.
'My full name is Mitchum Alexander Braden,' he told her. 'My mother always liked to use all of it when she was really angry with me.'
'Well, I'm angry, too, Mitchum Alexander Braden!' she declared with some satisfaction. 'I think it was a mean, contemptible trick you played when you knew I'm engaged to Warren!'
'That is precisely my point in this,' Mitch drawled. 'You aren't in love with him. I tricked you because I was running out of time to prove that you don't love him. You have to realize it before you do something you'll live to regret, like marrying him.'
'You're quite wrong.'
'I am?' he said with challenging humor. 'Tell me how you love him so much that you can almost allow me to seduce you?'
'Did it ever occur to you that I might have been imagining Warren in your place?' Susan retorted with some fast thinking.
'No, it didn't occur to me, and it doesn't now,' Mitch replied. 'You're only saying that to try to salvage some of your pride. Don't be stubborn by refusing to admit to yourself the truth of what I'm saying.'
'Truth! The truth is that I want you to leave me alone!'
'You're angry right now, Susan,' Mitch sighed. 'Think about what I've said, would you?'
His hand reached toward her and fell to his side as she took a hasty step away. Without saying another word, Susan turned around and walked swiftly from his room.
Several minutes later she was in her own bed, staring at the ceiling. How had she allowed herself to be tricked into that embarrassing situation? Nothing Mitch had said had been true. He had jumped to erroneous conclusions, she assured herself.
She was in love with Warren. She had loved him for almost two years. After that much time, a person didn't stop loving someone in one night.
'Not unless,' a little voice said, 'you never loved him in the beginning.'
'Impossible!' Susan whispered aloud, jamming a fist into her pillow and turning on her side.
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Chapter Nine
SUSAN, are you going to sleep until noon or are you going to get up?' Amy demanded impatiently, jiggling her sleeping sister's shoulder.
'W-what?' Groggily Susan blinked open her eyes, absently brushing away the hand on her shoulder.
'Mom has breakfast ready. Are you coming down or not?'
'Yes.' She snuggled deeper into her pillow. Then she realized the action would only bring more sleep and stretched out of her comfortable position. 'I'll get dressed and be right down.'
Amy waited until she saw her sister throw the covers off before she left the room. A gloomy sense of depression seemed to be clinging to Susan as she reached for the cranberry robe draped over a chair. As she slipped her arms into the sleeves, she remembered last night and the depression grew darker.
How was she going to face Mitch after the way she had behaved, she wondered, as she slid her feet into terrycloth slippers. Where had her common sense been? What could she say to him that would convince him it had all been a mistake?
Mistake! It had been a catastrophe. She simply had to convince him that she didn't want anything more to do with him. But how?
Plagued by her seemingly unsolvable dilemma, Susan ran a hand through her sleep-tousled hair. She stared sightlessly at the carpeted floor of the hallway as she made her way to the bathroom.
Opposite Mitch's room, her gaze nervously strayed to the open door. The room was empty. From downstairs, she could hear voices of her family and guessed that he was down there with them.
Breathing a sigh of relief that their moment of confrontation had been put off, Susan turned toward the open bathroom door. She stopped short inside its frame. Mitch was standing in front of the mirror above the sink, shirtless as he had been last night but wearing a pair of wheat tan pants instead of the blue checked.
Before she could recover from her surprise and retreat, the fingers of his right hand closed over her wrist and drew her into the room. When she pulled to free herself from his hold, he released her immediately. The movement of his hand continued fluidly to close the door.
'Good morning, beautiful,' he smiled lazily, his eyes moving possessively over her face. 'I didn't think it was possible, but you're even more beautiful first thing in the morning.'
'I imagine you've seen a lot of women "first thing in the morning"!' she snapped sarcastically, saying the first thing that came to her mind.
'I do believe you're jealous,' he chuckled. 'That's good.'
'That's absurd!' she denied with an impatient toss of her head away from his handsome face. 'You're so determined to see everything the way you want it to be that there isn't any use trying to explain things to you. Excuse me.'
'Wait.' His hand reached out again, checking her movement to leave. Susan stared pointedly at the fingers on her arm. 'Would you help me a second?'
She warily raised her eyes to his face.
Mitch smiled crookedly. 'No tricks, I promise.'
'What do you want?' she asked, still not trusting him.
'I've been trying for the last ten minutes to pour some after-shave lotion in my hand and I'm fast running out of patience,' he explained.
Her gaze found the uncapped bottle of aftershave lotion sitting on the counter beside the washbasin. That much of his statement seemed to be true.
He let go of her arm and reached for the bottle, tucking it in a precarious position between his cast and his body, cupping his right hand near the top of the bottle.
'You see what I mean,' he said as he tried to tip his body to one side to allow the liquid to run into his hand and nearly dropped the bottle in the process.
Sighing, Susan took the bottle from him and poured a small quantity in his hand, which he quickly rubbed over his freshly shaven face.
His gaze danced to her impassive expression. 'I thought you might have wanted to put it on. It would have given you a chance to slap my face.'
'Would it have done any good?' she asked cuttingly.
'You're still upset about last night, aren't you?' The crinkling lines around his eyes smoothed out as his expression became gently serious.
Her pulse began behaving erratically under his level gaze. 'I don't wish to discuss it with you.'
'I've backed you into a corner, haven't I, Susan?' he shrugged ruefully. 'And all I meant to do was to bring you out in the open where you could see things for yourself.'
His hand lightly caressed her cheek as he tucked a wayward strand of dark hair behind her ear. His hand remained there cupping the side of her head. Susan felt an inexplicable urge to turn her face into his hand and kiss his palm.
Why did he have to be so gentle? She could have withstood his mockery and his flattery. But this? Her eyes misted a liquid brown.
A thumb raised her chin. Too numbed by her inner bewilderment to protest, she remained motionless as his head bent toward her. His mouth lovingly caressed her trembling lips and that crazy whirlwind of emotions came sweeping over her again. It took all her strength to stand solidly in the face of it.
Finally, when Susan thought she could resist no longer, he raised his head, smiling lightly into her eyes with a tenderness as moving as his gentleness had been.
'When are you going to give Warren back his ring?' Mitch asked huskily.
Was there a faint unevenness to his breathing? Susan couldn't be certain. She stiffened away from the hand resting on her cheek.
'I'm not giving it back.' She lowered her gaze to the sling holding his arm. 'I'm going to marry him.’
'Susan, Susan,' Mitch sighed dispiritedly. 'When are you going to wake up?'
'When are you?' she demanded in a childishly hurt and confused voice. 'I k
eep telling you and telling you, but you won't listen. Why can't you leave me alone?'
Is that what you really want me to do?' His eyes narrowed into piercing blue diamonds, cutting hard.
'Yes! Yes, it is!' Susan declared forcefully.
'All right.' His mouth tightened into an uncompromising line as he stepped away from her. 'If that's what you want, I will leave you alone.'
Without another word, Mitch walked out of the bathroom leaving Susan standing there more bewildered and uncertain than she had been a moment ago.
And Mitch kept his word. He left Susan alone.
It was no small accomplishment when they both lived in the same house. Yet he succeeded. Whenever Susan entered a room, he found an excuse to leave. At the evening meal, he avoided addressing any comment to her, however trivially. Never once had she caught him looking at her.
If the family noticed the way they ignored each other, none of them said anything to Susan. For them, life seemed to be going very much as usual.
But not for Susan. She kept reminding herself how wonderful it was that she had finally made Mitch leave her alone. In truth, she was restless, on edge, and troubled. She blamed the state on Mitch's presence in the house. When he finally left, then everything would be all right. But she couldn't quite convince herself of that.
Her three dates with Warren since Mitch had begun ignoring her hadn't proved to be very enjoyable. Each time he embraced her, Susan began comparing her reactions to what she had felt with Mitch. It became impossible to respond to his kisses when she was mentally checking her pulse and respiration rate.
Warren didn't help matters by constantly chiding her for being so nervous and restless. She had come very close several times to telling him to shut up and leave her alone, too. The whole situation was becoming ridiculous in the extreme.
The names on the wedding list blurred into a jumble of lines. Susan shook her head to clear her vision and tried to find where she had left off before she had become lost in thought.
'Hi!' Amy flounced down on the sofa cushion beside Susan. 'What are you doing?'
'Going over the invitation list for the wedding,' she sighed, running the eraser end of her pencil down the names, not certain which was the last name she had checked.