Mitch set the box of toiletries and towels down next to her suitcases. He straightened and looked her over from head to toe, taking in the snug-fitting jeans and lemon-yellow V-necked sweater she had changed into, before shifting his gaze to her face once again. “I can’t help feeling how I feel.”
Lauren opened one of the folding chairs she had carted inside for her, and another for him. “Maybe we better talk about this,” she said sitting down and gesturing for him to do the same.
Mitch turned his around and sat down, folding his arms across the back. “I don’t think you understand how much my brothers and sister and I want my parents to get back together so our family can be whole again.”
“You’re wrong about that,” Lauren corrected softly. All she had to do was look at the sadness in Mitch’s eyes, or hear the anguish in his voice when he talked about his parents’ divorce and the animosity that had followed. “I lost my mom when I was a kid, remember? There’s no way I’m getting her back. And yet there’s a part of me, even now, that still yearns to have both a mother and a father again.” It had been nearly twelve years since her mother had died, and yet holidays were still rough for her and her father, Lauren recollected sadly. Maybe because they served as a reminder of all they had lost and would never have again.
Mitch sighed and shoved a hand through the short, straight layers of his dark brown hair. “Then you should know how important it is to keep my mom and dad under the same roof so they can work out their problems, face-to-face, and at the very least try and become good friends again instead of just not-quite-so-bad enemies,” he chided.
Lauren took exception to his stern tone. Her slender shoulders stiffening as restlessness overcame her once again, she stood. “And you should know that right now anyway, the experience has turned out to be too intense for your mother,” she said, leading the way back down to the car.
Mitch paused, searched her face as Lauren opened the trunk once again to remove the last of her belongings. “My mom said that to you?” Mitch ascertained.
Lauren nodded, filling Mitch’s arms with clothing. “Apparently, your father called her last night, and she and your father—well, it was a difficult conversation. When she arrived to look at houses this morning, she was still pretty upset over whatever it was they’d said to each other.”
“Did she tell you anything else?” Mitch asked.
Lauren shrugged, picked up two shopping bags full of shoes and closed her trunk. “Just that there were some things your mom didn’t think she and your father would ever be able to talk about. And she thought it might be best to try to limit the time they spent together for a while, because living together had turned out to be too difficult for them after all.”
Mitch blew out an aggravated breath, and the two of them headed up the stairs side by side once again. “I’m sorry we put you in the middle of all this.”
“Look, it’s just the way things are,” Lauren said as they set down the last of her things. “We can deal with it, and they can, too. Now, about dinner.” Lauren straightened. “I forgot to bring any dishes with me. And I don’t have any groceries in here yet, either. So is takeout okay?”
“Sure,” Mitch said, looking relaxed and agreeable once again. He paused to brush a tendril of hair from her face. “But why don’t we eat at my place.”
Lauren hesitated and stepped back a pace, her skin already tingling from the brief, casual touch. Seeing where Mitch lived and slept would only deepen the growing intimacy between them. And that was a proposition, given the arranged nature of their relationship, that seemed more dangerous every day. On the other hand, she was curious. Not to mention hungry and tired and in need of a place to put her feet up. Plus, they still had several hours to kill before this third date would be over. “Okay,” Lauren conceded, already looking around for her cell phone and house key. “But I want to be back here by midnight.”
Mitch frowned. “Where are you going to sleep?” he asked, his deep blue eyes radiating concern. “You don’t have a bed or any furniture here.”
“Good point.” She’d been so anxious to lease her home so she could afford to start making repairs on the mansion, she’d forgotten all about that. “I’ll have to go buy a sleeping bag, I guess.” Either that or sleep in the guest room at her father’s city apartment and endure all his questions about how things were going with her and Mitch.
“You could stay at my place,” Mitch said quietly.
Lauren lifted her head. At her surprised look, Mitch continued affably, “I’m serious. I’ve got a sofa bed in my study. You could sleep there or…in my bed.”
Lauren thought about the sexy kiss they had shared earlier, when they were arguing. If his mother hadn’t arrived and interrupted just in the nick of time, who knew where that would have led? To her bed? “Wouldn’t you like that,” Lauren murmured.
“Hey…” Mitch lifted his hands in a lazy gesture of self-defense, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “I meant alone, but if you’d prefer it otherwise, I could deal with that,” he teased with a sexy smile.
“I’ll just bet you could,” Lauren retorted dryly. She gave him a quelling look, determined to put that fantasy to rest. “But I’m sleeping alone tonight no matter what house I’m in.” She couldn’t let herself forget how and why they had happened to end up spending every night together, even if she was enjoying Mitch’s company. Besides, she had the oddest feeling he didn’t quite trust her, though she didn’t have the slightest clue why not. She knew their fathers had been fierce competitors over the years, often struggling to land the same big accounts. But that had never affected her or Mitch.
Mitch regarded her with quiet acceptance, whatever he was thinking now a mystery to her. “So how about it?” he asked seriously, his offer still good.
What he was saying made sense, Lauren admitted to herself reluctantly. It was certainly easier than checking in or out of a hotel. “Okay, but just for tonight,” she cautioned. Tomorrow, she would get a refrigerator and maybe rent some furniture—a sofa, a bed, coffee table and chairs and have them all delivered to 10 Gathering Place so she could start living there and transforming it into the dream home she knew it could be.
Mitch smiled, his mood suddenly lighter, too. “Pack a bag then and we’ll be on our way.”
“I WAS RIGHT,” Lauren crowed victoriously as the two of them walked into his fifth-floor condominium in the large square building overlooking an upscale Mount Pleasant shopping arboretum. She had won the impulsive bet they’d made on the drive over. “You do have a very monochromatic color scheme.” She looked around, admiring the elegance of his surroundings, even as she lamented the lack of other colors in his life. “Slate-gray carpet, pale gray walls, silvery-gray leather sofas and chairs. Even your kitchen counters are granite, and the floor tile is gray, too.” She knew gray was his favorite color—that was obvious, even his car was gray—but this was taking it to an extreme.
Mitch merely grinned at her and taunted, “You haven’t looked at the bedroom or my study yet.”
Lauren’s pulse kicked up another notch. “Are you saying those are different colors?”
Mitch merely shrugged and smiled at her in a way that raised her awareness of him—and the stakes—even higher. “You want to know, you’re going to have to find out for yourself.”
Lauren knew it was dangerous, going into the bedroom of a single man on the prowl, but she couldn’t resist. She had to know. So she went down the hall, past a bathroom decorated in tones of silver and white, to the large master bedroom. The furniture in there was sleek and modern, in a shiny lacquer black, but the carpet, bedspread, vertical blinds were all—you guessed it—gray. Aware the room carried the faint lingering fragrance of his after-shave lotion, she moved into the master bath. It had a double shower with glass doors and a white whirlpool tub big enough for two. The ceramic-tile floor was white as well, but the wallpaper was an elegant gray foil.
She also noted, quite without wanting to, that there were no fema
le clothes hanging in the closet, no cosmetics or perfume or hair spray on his countertops. She didn’t know why that would matter to her, since she wasn’t the jealous type and they didn’t have any real hold on each other, either, but somehow it did.
Looking very pleased she had opted to go to his place for a change, Mitch took Lauren’s hand and led her back through the bedroom to the study on the opposite side of the hallway. “No gray here,” he said with a grin of purely male satisfaction. And he was right. The pine floor was so dark it was almost black, the walls were covered with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and cabinets in the same hue. The desk that sat in the middle was enormous. And also quite valuable.
Forgetting for a moment about their bet—that said the loser footed the bill on their already purchased take-out dinner—she ran her hand across the silky smooth grain. “This is an antique,” she said, impressed.
Mitch sat down on the edge of the massive mahogany desk. “It belonged to my great-grandfather,” he said.
And it was obvious to Lauren it had been lovingly cared for ever since.
“My dad gave it to me when I graduated from college. I think he wanted me to put it in my office down at Deveraux Shipping, but I loved it so much I wanted it in my home, so—” Mitch patted the surface fondly “—here it is.”
“It’s lovely.” Lauren edged closer yet, so her thigh brushed his knee.
“And the one piece of furniture I have that I’m truly attached to,” Mitch admitted. Lacing an arm around her waist, he pulled her between his spread legs and onto his lap.
“And you know why?” Lauren retorted, telling herself it wouldn’t hurt anything to sit there, her bottom nestled against the apex of his braced legs, just for a second. “Because the piece has history.”
“As well as a lot of sentimental value,” Mitch said as he laced both arms around her waist and settled her closer yet.
Lauren grinned. Maybe she and Mitch had more in common than they knew. Who would’ve thought? “Now if we could just get you to live in the historic district, too…” she teased.
“Hey—” Mitch planted a palm against his chest in self-defense “—my condo’s in a good location, near a lot of restaurants and stores, and it’s appreciating nicely. I should be able to sell it in a few years and make a tidy sum, and in the meantime, there’s no grass or routine maintenance to worry about. That’s all done for me.”
Lauren turned her head slightly to the side as she studied the handsome visage of his face. “You could have that done for you if you owned a house,” she pointed out softly, loving the warmth and strength of him.
“I suppose.” Mitch gently traced the curve of her cheekbone with his thumb. “But I’d have to arrange it.”
“And you don’t even want to bother with that,” Lauren guessed, wishing he would kiss her again, even though she knew they shouldn’t.
“Right.” Mitch paused, his hand still lightly cupping her face, and looked deep into her eyes.
Without wanting to, Lauren noted his hesitation and wariness matched her own.
“Why do you look so unhappy for me?” he asked after a moment, obviously mistaking her ambivalent feelings about their situation for disapproval of his ultramodern, ultrasingle lifestyle.
“I just can’t imagine not living in a place that meant a lot to me,” Lauren fibbed, telling herself her falling spirits had nothing to do with the way she and Mitch had met, and the very wrong reasons they were together—even now. “And with the personal budget you must have for such things” she babbled on, working hard to hide her true feelings, “I don’t understand why you don’t live in a place that’s both beautiful and of historic importance.” Like it mattered where he lived, she thought, as long as he loved her and wanted her for her. Which, unfortunately, hadn’t happened. And might not ever happen thanks to her father and his meddling, Lauren thought sadly.
“My condo’s nice-looking,” Mitch defended himself, a perplexed expression on his face.
“You know what I mean.” Lauren slid off his lap and began to pace again. “Charleston is a city that’s so rich in history,” she said, feeling more restless and disgruntled with their predicament than ever. “You should be celebrating that, reveling in it.”
Mitch continued to study her curiously as he stood, too. He picked up a paperweight from his desk and shifted it idly from hand to hand. “When did you get so interested in the history of the homes around here?”
Lauren smiled fondly, recalling. “It was one of my mother’s passions. She used to put our home in Summerville up for tour every spring and fall. And she’d bring me into Charleston to enjoy the historic-home tours they have here, too.”
“You must miss her,” Mitch said as he put the paperweight back down, the gentle empathy in his eyes like a balm to her senses.
“I do.” Lauren swallowed around the growing knot of emotion in her throat. “I don’t think my dad’s ever gotten over losing her. Which is, of course, part of the problem,” Lauren continued candidly. “My father’s loneliness is the reason he’s so determined that I not live out the rest of my life alone. He wants me to have a mate I can count on. A partner. Protector. He just doesn’t understand that something that intimate and personal can’t simply be arranged like any other business deal.”
“Maybe you should be finding your father a mate, then,” Mitch said.
“I would if I believed deals like that worked,” Lauren returned just as lightly, holding Mitch’s intent blue gaze with effort. “Unfortunately, I don’t, so…there’s no point in wasting our time on something that’s bound, by its very nature, to fail anyway.”
The way Mitch looked at her then gave her the feeling that he not only understood what she was feeling, but that he also understood her like no one had ever understood her before.
Sentiments like that, however, were as dangerous as they were seductive, Lauren reminded herself sternly. If she let herself have them too often she’d forget what a mutually beneficial business arrangement this was, at the core, and begin to think of it as an actual, bona fide romance.
Lauren couldn’t let herself fall in love with someone who didn’t love her. And since she was not, and never had been, the kind of woman who was made for sex as sport—never mind a relationship or a marriage run as the business Mitch wanted it to be—it was time she got their date back on the impersonal, unemotional track it was supposed to be on. Smiling at Mitch in a way meant to keep him safely at arm’s length, at a way she sensed he hated, she said, “Anyway. Enough of that.” Then turned and headed for the dining nook next to the kitchen.
His disappointment at the way she’d abruptly shut him out again evident, Mitch helped her take the cardboard containers out of the paper sacks. “Our dinner’s probably cold,” he said, frowning.
“There’s no probably to it,” Lauren agreed. The sides of the containers weren’t even lukewarm. “But not to worry.” She beamed a smile at him. “I’m an ace at heating kung pao chicken and moo shu pork in the microwave.” Dining alone as much as she had the past two years, she’d had lots of practice.
“I TRIED CALLING YOU last night,” Payton Heyward said the next morning over their weekly breakfast date, “and got Grace Deveraux instead. She said you had leased your home to her.”
Was it her imagination, Lauren wondered, or was her father looking a little hot and uncomfortable this morning? As he’d sat down, he’d been moving a little stiffly, too. But then, that could have been due to the mild arthritis that had been bothering him for the past few years. Trying her best not to show her concern—she knew he hated it when she fussed over him—she smiled and said, “Yes. I did.”
“So where did you sleep last night?” Payton continued, perplexed.
“At Mitch’s,” Lauren replied and watched the color drain from her father’s face. “It’s not the way it sounds,” she said hastily.
Unfortunately, her father wasn’t buying it.
Payton clamped his lips together tightly. “I want the tw
o of you to marry, Lauren. Not shack up together.”
Lauren didn’t want to just live with a man without benefit of marriage, either. She picked up her knife and began spreading strawberry preserves on her buttermilk biscuit. “It was only a one-night thing, Dad.”
Payton looked at her as if that was even worse.
Too late, Lauren realized how that must have sounded and defended herself further, “Nothing happened, Dad.” That was, if you could discount the kisses Mitch had given her earlier, and she couldn’t quite do that, either. Because those kisses had been wonderful. Warm, enticing, erotic.
Payton lifted a skeptical eyebrow, and Lauren blushed despite herself. Trying to make the evening sound as dull as possible, she continued truthfully, “When we got to his place last night, we just talked and ate Chinese food and watched a movie, and then he slept on the sofa bed in his study and I slept in his bed.” And it was odd how comforting and truly relaxing that had been. She’d felt truly at home in Mitch’s place.
The only disconcerting moment had come when she’d been selecting a movie from his collection of videotapes and DVDs and she turned and saw him with her cell phone in his hand. He’d explained he was just looking over the features, comparing her brand of phone with his, but she’d felt a little funny about it just the same. Not that there was anything he could have learned about her from looking at her cell phone—except who had called her recently, or who she had called, and there was nothing secret about that. Nevertheless, it had felt funny to have Mitch encroaching on her territory without permission—maybe because it was the sort of thing her father would have done. Only her father probably would have been doing it deliberately to glean information on whom she had been in contact with.
Payton harrumphed. “I’d like to say the fact you had such a dull time when you spent the night with Mitch is reassuring to me, Lauren, but it’s not.”
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