Her breath labored, her insides quivering with desire, Emily nodded in agreement, then slid off Mitch’s lap and onto the sofa. “I—I have a couple of things I need to tell you, before we move forward with our relationship.” She stood up and held out her hand to him. “Let me walk you to the door.”
“Emily, whatever you have to tell me probably won’t matter once I confess my deep, dark secret.”
Mitch stood and followed her out into the foyer. When she opened the door, he walked past her and stood in the doorway, his gaze focused on her face. He didn’t touch her again. He didn’t dare. It had taken every ounce of his willpower not to give in to the desire he’d seen in her eyes, the desire that still smoldered just beneath the surface.
“I’ll come over about six o’clock tomorrow evening.”
“Six o’clock.” Her voice was breathy.
Emily watched Mitch leave her porch and walk up the beach toward his house. She watched him until he was out of sight, then she went back inside, making sure to turn the lock. Leaning back against the door, she closed her eyes and willed her raging senses to calm. Thank goodness Mitch had called a halt before things had gone any further than a heated kiss. She was quaking inside with a yearning so strong it frightened her. What if Mitch hadn’t ended things so quickly? What if things had gotten out of hand? What if he’d seen her scarred back? That couldn’t happen. She had to tell him about her scars, had to let him see the imperfect woman that she was. And she had to tell him about her mystery man, someone who might pose a threat not only to her, but to him, too.
Well, it seemed tomorrow night was going to be a night. of revelations. She hoped and prayed that once there were no secrets standing between them, she and Mitch would have a chance for a future together. Even though he hadn’t been specific about the sorrows from his past, Emily knew that Mitch had lived through as much torment and loneliness as she had, that whatever his deep, dark secret, she would understand and forgive. And if he could accept her flawed body and still want her, there wasn’t anything that could ever keep them apart.
Chapter 7
Emily couldn’t remember a time when she’d enjoyed herself so much, when she’d been so alive and happy, when she’d felt so cherished. She had grown up on the Gulf, her time divided between the family’s home in Mobile and their cottage in Point Clear. No one appreciated the beauty of land and sea and sky more than she did, but sharing the splendor with a man like Mitch highlighted how truly romantic an evening cruise could be.
Emily had persuaded Mitch to drive her car tonight, and they’d both dressed up. She wondered if he’d bought himself a new sports coat and slacks or if he’d borrowed them from Zed Banning.
She’d been down Highway 90 numerous times, had visited the USS Alabama once with her father, once with her grandmother and again with Stuart.
The tour boat, the Captain’s Lady, docked near the historical battleship, boarded promptly at six-thirty for the dinner cruise. She and Mitch had chosen their dinner from a three-entrée buffet and danced to the live music, then joined other couples to stroll the huge deck.
They stood on the deck, enjoying the sights that blended the past with the present. The breeze off the bay ruffled Emily’s long, dark hair. She’d allowed it to fall freely down her back, secured only with a set of pearl combs that had belonged to her grandmother.
Mitch draped his arms around Emily, holding her in front of him as they gazed out at the last remnants of the May sunset. Long, white-tipped gray clouds spread across the horizon, floating over the coral red sky.
“I don’t want this night to end.” Emily rested the back of her head against Mitch’s chest. “It’s all been so perfect.”
“Well, the cruise will end around nine-thirty, but the night doesn’t have to end until you want it to.” Mitch kissed her neck, his lips warm, moist and infinitely tender.
Emily shivered. “The magic of this night will end when we drive home. We can’t go on pretending that...well, that we have no pasts and no futures, that our relationship can stay the way it is now.”
“You’re right, pretty lady. We’re going to have to face the truth, and I’m afraid some of my truths aren’t very pleasant.”
Emily turned in his arms, holding him about the waist as he did her. “I have a couple of things to tell you, too,” she said. “One can wait until later. It’s something more serious, something that could affect our...our ever... Anyway, the other thing has been bothering me for a while now. I should have already told you, but I wasn’t really worried about it. But now that we’re involved, you’ve become a part of it.”
Mitch felt her tense in his arms, saw the frightened look in her eyes. “It’s all right, Emily. Whatever it is, tell me.”
“Before I tell you anything, I want you to understand that I’m not afraid. Not really. It’s just that the phone calls and the notes—”
“What are you talking about?” Mitch didn’t like the sound of this. His instincts told him that despite her denial of fear, Emily was afraid. But of what? Of whom?
“Maybe I should begin at the beginning.”
“Best place to start.”
“Several weeks ago, I began receiving strange phone calls.”
“Threatening phone calls?” Mitch asked.
“No, not actually threatening. Just disturbing. He says things like he just wants to hear my voice and...he quotes poetry to me. Last night, he left two messages on my answering machine. He knows about you, Mitch. He told me that you weren’t worthy of me, that you could never care about me the way he does.”
“Damn! Do you have any idea who he is?”
“He disguises his voice, so if he’s someone I know, I don’t recognize him.”
“You have contacted the police, haven’t you?”
“No. Not yet. I just didn’t think that there was anything they could do. Somehow he found out what my unlisted home telephone number is. But he usually calls me at work. And the numbers that showed up on my caller ID were numbers for pay telephones.” Emily ran her hands nervously up and down Mitch’s arms. “A couple of weeks ago, the letters began—love letters. He quotes poetry to me in the letters, too.”
“And you have no idea who might be doing this to you?”
“Not really. Everyone has a theory,” Emily said. “There’s Charles Tolbert. He works for Uncle Fowler in his accounting firm and we dated on and off for several months. And there’s one of my art students, Rod Simmons, who has a crush on me. And...”
“And?”
“Uncle Fowler thought it might be you,” Emily admitted, shivering when she saw the deadly look in Mitch’s cold blue eyes. “Before I got to know you, the thought crossed my mind that it might be you. But I never seriously thought it was you. I told Uncle Fowler that you would never—”
Mitch’s insides tightened into painful knots. He gripped Emily’s shoulders. “It isn’t me, pretty lady. I swear. I’d die before I’d cause you pain, of any kind.”
“Oh, Mitch.” Tears glazed her eyes. “I know that I trust you. Besides, why would you call and tell me I should stop seeing you?”
Mitch felt as if his guts had been ripped open. Emily trusted him! Dear God, if she knew the truth, knew who he really was, he’d be the last man on earth she’d trust.
He gently grasped Emily’s face in his hands, holding her securely as he gazed into her trusting brown eyes. “Whoever this guy is and whatever his motive, I promise you that I’ll protect you from him. I won’t ever let anyone hurt you.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “Not ever again.”
Wrapping her arms around Mitch’s waist, she hugged him, then stepped backward, separating their bodies. “This man probably isn’t a real danger to me. After all, he hasn’t done anything threatening, except—”
“Except warn you against me.” For one brief instant Mitch’s heart stopped. Good God, did someone know who he was? Did they know he was M. R. Hayden?
“I’m glad you told me about the situation. I’ll always
be only a phone call away.” Mitch slipped his arm around Emily and led her from the deck’s edge. “Let’s walk.”
“I didn’t tell you before now because I didn’t want you to think it was a big deal. But Nikki’s been trying to convince me that my secret admirer might be a mass murderer or something.”
A cold chill raced up Mitch’s spine. “Nothing’s going to happen to you as long as I’m around.” If you’ll let me stay around once I tell you who I am.
Sighing, Emily cuddled closer to Mitch’s side. He slowed their walk, turned and gave her a brief, gentle kiss.
The cooling night breeze swept into the Buick through the open car window. The smell of the sea and sand and springtime saturated every breath Emily took. Neither she nor Mitch had spoken a word for the last few miles. She suspected that Mitch was cocooned in his own private thoughts and secret emotions, just as she was.
When they neared the cottage, Emily sat up straight, lifting her head from Mitch’s shoulder. She gasped. “The lights are off.”
“You must have forgotten to leave them on,” Mitch said as he pulled the car into the drive at the side of the cottage.
“No, I didn’t forget. I never forget. I always leave several lights on inside the house, day and night, whether I’m home or not.” How could she explain to him about her deathly fear of the dark? Would he understand if she told him that ever since she’d been trapped inside the burning, smoke-filled Ocean Breeze Apartments, the darkness of night frightened her as nothing else in her life ever had? No one could truly understand unless he, too, had been enveloped in the evil, smoldering dark that had crept through her home, blotting out the light, absorbing the oxygen.
When Mitch touched her on the shoulder, Emily jumped and cried out.
“It’s all right, honey. Give me your key and I’ll go turn on the lights.”
“No, you don’t understand.” Emily clutched Mitch’s arm. “Something’s wrong. I left the lights on this evening.” Her heart raced. The palms of her hands moistened. Her body trembled ever so slightly. “I have an abnormal fear of the dark.”
Mitch reached over and pulled her into his arms. “It’s okay, Emily. We’re all afraid of something, if we’ll just admit it.”
“I almost died in a fire once, years ago. Ever since, I’ve been irrationally afraid of the dark. The lights are always left on in my house.”
For a split second the vision of long, dark hair draped over a fireman’s shoulder, of a tattered pink satin nightgown, flashed through Mitch’s mind. He forced the memory from his thoughts. This wasn’t five years ago. This was here. Now. And this time he could do something to help Emily.
“Are you saying someone turned the lights off after we left?” he asked.
“Unless the power is out, then yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“You stay here in the car.” Leaning across Emily, Mitch popped open the glove compartment and looked inside. “Good. Just what I need.” He removed a yellow flashlight, closed the glove compartment, then lifted his head and smiled at her. “Don’t worry, pretty lady.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll go take a look around.” He swung open the door and stepped outside.
“Mitch, please, be careful.”
“I will.” Leaning back inside the car, he kissed her on the nose.
Mitch moved cautiously around the house to the closed front door and found it locked. Then suddenly, as if it had been months instead of years, his military training came back to him. He slipped around the side of the cottage and into the back door, which stood wide open, one of the glass panes broken. Emily was right. Someone had been in her house.
He listened for any sound of an intruder, but only a still, almost eerie silence surrounded him. He crept into the kitchen and stopped to listen. No sound except the ticking of a clock.
Running his hand along the wall by the back door, he sought and found the light switch. Just as he flipped the light on, he heard someone run up behind him. Jerking around, he grabbed Emily in a stranglehold.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing sneaking up on me like that?” Loosening his deadly grip, he pulled her into his arms. The thought that he might have harmed her shook him badly. “I told you to stay in the car.”
Coughing several times, Emily regained the breath Mitch had momentarily cut off when he’d grabbed her around the neck. She breathed deeply in and out, in and out. “I’m not very good at taking orders. Besides, I couldn’t sit out there not knowing what was happening to you.”
“The back door was open. A pane is broken out. So I assume you’ve had a visitor. I’m sure whoever it was is long gone by now.”
“I don’t see anything out of place in here.” Emily glanced around at the undisturbed orderliness of her sunny-yellow kitchen.
“Follow me and we’ll check each room.” When she moved in front of him, he grasped her by the shoulders, halting her. “You follow me.”
“Why?”
“Just in case I’m wrong about the intruder being long gone.”
“Okay.” Emily allowed Mitch to walk in front of her.
He flipped on light switch after light switch as they moved down the hallway, checking in the bedrooms and the bathroom before reaching the living room. Emily gasped and grabbed Mitch’s sleeve.
“Oh, my heavens. Look at my living room!” .
The cotton jabots that crowned twelve-over-twelve pane windows had been ripped. Two peach wingback chairs lay turned over on each side of the small trunk used as a coffee table. And the camelback sofa’s green-and-cream print upholstery had been slashed in several places. The handmade hooked rug that covered a large area of the room was littered with sand, obviously hauled from the beach and deliberately dumped. An antique secretary’s contents had been scattered. A pair of Staffordshire dogs lay broken on the wooden floor.
Mitch’s gaze wandered around the room, slowly taking in all the random destruction. He sucked in his breath when he saw the message printed on the large mirror over the unused fireplace.
“‘Don’t ever see him again! He’s the wrong man for you!’” Emily read the message aloud.
“Come on, Emily. Let’s go back in the kitchen. I’ll call the police while you make us some coffee.”
He’d never felt so protective of a woman in his life. The thought that someone was harassing Emily made him want to kill. And knowing that his relationship with her had prompted her poetry-quoting admirer to become destructive made him more determined than ever to take care of her. Whoever was wreaking havoc in her life would have to answer to him.
When they walked into the hallway, Mitch placed his hand on Emily’s shoulder. “After the police take a look at things here, do you want me to drive you over to spend the night with Nikki?”
“I’m not going to let anyone force me out of my own home. I’m staying here, and tomorrow I’ll start cleaning up that horrible mess in the living room.”
“Then I’ll stay here with you tonight,” he told her.
“Mitch, that isn’t—”
“I’ll sleep in the guest room.”
“Thank you.”
She smiled at him, obviously grateful for his concern, and that shy, sweet smile of hers turned him inside out in a way nothing and no one ever had.
The police came and went, giving Emily little hope that they would ever find her intruder, unless he struck again. And although he hoped he was wrong, Mitch didn’t doubt that whoever was harassing Emily wouldn’t give up easily. Was her mystery man only a jealous want-to-be-lover, or was there more to his warnings? Did he know who Mitch really was? If so, why hadn’t he already told Emily?
“His phone calls and letters weren’t threatening, until...until he found out about you,” Emily said. “My soft-spoken secret admirer has become dangerous, hasn’t he?”
Emily talked to Mitch briefly about what had happened and about her fears, then she told him she needed to be alone. He wanted to take her in his arms, to hold and comfort her, but she shut him out, a
nd he felt he didn’t have the right to intrude on her private thoughts.
Hours later, Mitch tossed and turned in the natural wicker bed in Emily’s guest room. He’d listened to Emily stirring about in the adjoining room, and when she’d quieted, he’d tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come. His mind had shifted into overdrive—all he could think about was the possibility that someone posed a threat to Emily. But who? And why? Rod Simmons, her lovestruck art student? Or Charles Tolbert, the guy she’d said she had been dating on and off for the past year? Or was it someone else? Someone who knew Mitch?
Hell! He might as well get up. He wasn’t getting any rest this way.
Mitch flipped on the wood-and-brass bedside lamp sitting in the middle of the unfinished-pine nightstand. The long, wide windows, covered with wooden shutters, overlooked the front of the house, giving a clear view of the beach in the daytime.
He flopped down in the twig chair and propped his feet on the matching ottoman, both covered in a muted beige animal print. Rubbing his eyes and yawning, Mitch leaned back in the chair.
At first, he thought he was imagining the sound, but when he cleared his mind and listened carefully, he could make out the muffled cries. Emily’s cries.
He jerked upright in the chair, his body tensing as he listened to her quiet little sobs. Was she crying into her pillow, trying to keep him from hearing her?
Standing, Mitch reached down to the foot of the bed, picked up his slacks and slipped into them. He opened the bedroom door and walked down the hall. Hesitating outside Emily’s room, he listened at the door.
He knocked lightly. The crying stopped. He knocked again.
“Yes?”
“Emily, may I come in?” He grasped the doorknob.
“I—I guess so. Yes.”
Mitch opened the door slowly, uncertain what to expect, unsure what he should do. The room was alive with light, soft light coming from several different lamps—a white, wrought-iron floor lamp placed beside a chaise longue, etched glass hurricane lamps flanking the bed and a tiny crystal boudoir lamp sitting on the dressing table.
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