by Irene Hannon
Tess glanced yet again at her watch. Mitch was now twenty minutes late. They’d agreed on an early dinner, since she still tired easily, and he’d said he would come straight from his office. It was time to call, she decided.
Tess reached for her purse and stood. But she’d walked no more than two steps toward the foyer when she suddenly froze. Though she hadn’t seen him in years, and his once-ebony hair now contained glints of silver, there was no question about the identity of the man who stood on the threshold of the lounge, coolly surveying the occupants.
It was Peter, her ex-husband.
“I’m glad you stopped by, Tony.” Mitch laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder as they walked toward the office reception area.
“Yeah. Me, too.”
“My door’s always open, you know.”
“Yeah. But it’s easier to stop by when school’s out.”
“The guys give you a hard time about talking to me, I take it.”
The fourteen-year-old shrugged. “You know how it is.”
“Unfortunately, I do.” He paused on the threshold and looked at Tony. “Hang in there, okay? I know things aren’t great at home, but there are a lot of people who care about you. Including me. Don’t forget that. And I’m here if you need me, anytime, day or night. You’ve got my home number, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Will you stop in and see me again next week?”
“I’ll try.”
“We can meet somewhere away from here if that’s easier, okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Mr. Jackson.”
“You bet. Just remember that I’m here for you.”
“I will. See ya.”
Mitch watched the teenager cross the small reception room, then glanced toward Karen’s desk, a troubled expression on his face. “I worry about him.”
“You worry about all of them,” she countered as she pushed her keyboard under the desk.
“Some more than others.”
“Are things still bad at home?”
“Yeah.”
She raised one eyebrow knowingly. “I’m not surprised. I heard his mother just got a big promotion. She’ll probably be around even less now. Which means his dad will drink more than ever.”
Mitch looked at her and shook his head incredulously. “How do you know so much about everything?”
“Certainly no thanks to you,” she retorted. “You never tell me anything.”
“If I want the kids to trust me, I have to keep their confidences.”
She grinned. “I know. I’m just giving you a hard time. I know something else, too.”
“What?”
“You’re late for your six-o’clock appointment.”
Mitch glanced at his watch, muttered something under his breath, then turned and strode toward his desk. He stuffed a handful of papers into his briefcase, sparing only a brief glance for Karen, who had followed in a more leisurely fashion. She surveyed him from the doorway, one shoulder propped against the door frame, arms folded over her chest.
Mitch looked at her again as he snapped his briefcase shut, noting her amused expression. “What?” he asked.
“Considering it’s Friday night, and considering that classy suit and tie you’re wearing, I have a feeling that appointment may be too businesslike a term for whatever you have planned for tonight.”
He flashed her a grin as he shrugged into a gray pinstripe jacket. “Fishing?”
“Maybe.”
“They’re not biting tonight.”
“Maybe not here. But this isn’t the only fishing hole in town.”
Mitch chuckled. “I told you before, Karen. You missed your calling. Are you sure you don’t want me to put you in touch with my FBI contacts? They could use more good agents.”
“Ha, ha. Very funny. So are you going to fess up, or do I have to keep fishing?” When Mitch silently picked up his briefcase and headed for the door, Karen sighed and stepped aside. “Okay, have it your way. But the truth will come out.”
As he passed his secretary, Mitch winked. “Good luck.”
She grinned. “You, too. And by the way—it’s about time.”
Please, God, don’t let him see me! Tess prayed silently but fervently. Peter was the last person she wanted to see, especially tonight. Not when she was already nervous about her dinner plans with Mitch. Not when she was so unprepared for a verbal sparring match with her ex-husband. Not when she needed every ounce of the confidence she had so painstakingly rebuilt after Peter’s masterful job of destroying it. Just being in his presence made her feel insecure and shaky.
She glanced around desperately, hoping there was an alcove, a ladies’ room, anything that would offer her an escape so she could mentally regroup.
“Tess?”
Too late. With dread she turned slowly to face the man who had once been her husband. He strolled over, and his gaze blatantly raked over her—cold, assessing, critical. He hadn’t changed a bit, she thought bitterly. “It is you. I wasn’t sure. You look more gaunt than I remember.”
Not “How are you?” or “Nice to see you.” Just a derogatory comment. She should have been used to it by now. Should have developed a skin tough enough to deflect his barbs. Yet they still had the power to sting. And intimidate.
“Hello, Peter.” She tried for a cool, aloof tone, but couldn’t quite pull it off. “What are you doing here?”
He knew exactly what she meant, but chose to play games, as he always had. “Meeting a couple of colleagues for a drink.”
“I mean in St. Louis.”
“Why didn’t you say so? I’m in town for a convention. Just for a couple of days. I’m leaving tomorrow.”
It suddenly occurred to Tess that Peter hadn’t even let his son know he would be in town. Had made no attempt to see or even call him while he was here. A deep, seething anger swept over her, and this time the coolness in her tone was real.
“I’m surprised you didn’t call.”
He gave her a smirk. “Don’t tell me you’ve been missing me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I wasn’t thinking of me.”
For a moment his face went blank, and then, for one brief moment, he had the decency to look embarrassed. “Oh, yeah. How is the kid?”
Her knuckles whitened on her purse. “His name is Bruce,” she said tersely. “Or have you forgotten that, too?”
“Same smart mouth, I see,” he sneered. “You always were a master at dishing out guilt.” He glanced pointedly at the bare fingers of her left hand. “I’m not surprised you never remarried. No man wants to have someone constantly lecturing to him. Believe me, there are plenty of women out there a lot better looking than you who know how to make a man feel good about himself.”
Tess’s temples began to throb, and her legs suddenly felt shaky. The memories of her unhappy, bitter years with this man who was now little more than a stranger came rushing back, leaving a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Dear God, how had she managed to put up with his vitriolic verbal abuse for ten long years?
Tess had never been very good at hiding her feelings, and she knew from the smirk on Peter’s face that he’d correctly deduced that his barbs had hit home. “So what are you doing in a classy place like this, anyway? Reporters must be getting paid more than they used to.”
“Tess! Sorry I’m late. I got held up at the office.”
Tess felt the comfort of a protective arm around her shoulders, and she turned, her throat tightening with emotion. He might not be wearing a suit of shining armor, but as far as she was concerned Mitch was every bit the knight rescuing the damsel in distress.
Mitch looked down into her eyes, and his gut clenched. He had hesitated on the sidelines when he’d discovered Tess talking with Peter, thinking that perhaps she’d run into an old friend. But her tense body posture quickly put that theory to rest. The man was no friend. Mitch had moved closer, and though he’d picked up only part of the conversation, it had been enough for him to identify the m
an—and for a white-hot anger to erupt inside him. Tess had implied that her ex-husband was insensitive and uncaring. But what Mitch had witnessed went beyond that. The man was arrogant. Conceited. Self-centered. And abusive. He had hurt Tess before. Deeply. Now he was doing it again. And Mitch had no intention of letting him get away with it. Without even stopping to consider his actions, he leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. He didn’t wait to assess her reaction, but instead smoothly transferred his gaze to Peter.
As Mitch had anticipated, the gesture wasn’t lost on Tess’s ex-husband. The other man’s eyes narrowed appraisingly, and there was a glimmer of admiration in them when he spoke again to Tess. As if Mitch’s interest in Tess somehow made her more worthy of his respect, Mitch thought with disgust.
“Are you going to introduce your…friend?” Peter prompted.
Tess was still trying to recover from Mitch’s unexpected kiss and the brief but breathtaking sensation of his lips on hers that had, for just a second, made her completely forget that Peter was standing only inches away. She turned back to her ex-husband, taking comfort in the shelter of Mitch’s arm, and quickly made the introductions.
When Peter extended his hand, Mitch hesitated. Finally, with obvious reluctance, he withdrew his arm from around her shoulders. As soon as the brief handshake was completed, however, he reached over and entwined his fingers with hers, noting the coldness of her hand and the tremors that ran through it.
“Nice to meet you, Mitch. Can I buy you both a drink?”
Tess looked at Peter in disgust. He hadn’t changed one bit. Jovial and considerate in public, an ogre in private. Would Mitch be fooled, as so many others had been? she wondered.
“Sorry, we’re already late for our dinner reservations.”
“Another time, maybe.”
Mitch ignored that comment and turned to Tess. The smile he gave her was warm and intimate. “You look fabulous tonight. New dress?”
She looked at him in surprise. Actually, it was. She hadn’t intended to buy anything new for tonight. But she’d seen a dress in the window of a small shop and hadn’t been able to resist. The simple, elegant lines of the black cocktail dress were suited to her slender curves, and the moment she’d slipped it over her head she’d felt young and attractive and more woman than mom. It had been a foolish extravagance, of course, but it had done wonders for her self-esteem. Until Peter’s opening comment about her gauntness, which had quickly deflated her ego. But Mitch’s appreciative gaze helped restore her shaky self-confidence, even if it was only a gallant act for Peter’s benefit.
“Yes.”
He gave her a lazy smile, then reached up and gently brushed a wayward strand of hair back from her face. “I like it.”
“So, you two seem like old friends.”
Mitch frowned, as if he’d completely forgotten the other man was there and was annoyed at being interrupted. He spared him only a quick glance, and once again ignored his remark as he turned back to Tess. “Ready for dinner?”
“Yes.”
“I think our table is ready.”
His hand still linked with hers, he deliberately turned away from Peter and led the way toward the dining room. Tess followed his lead, turning for a brief parting look at Peter. Her ex’s face was slightly ruddy, and his eyes glinted with anger. The picture of a man clearly not accustomed to having his charm rebuffed. As Tess turned away, she couldn’t help but feel vindicated. Mitch hadn’t been fooled. He had seen right through Peter and had very clearly put him in his place.
As they took their seats at the linen-covered table, the waiter smiled in greeting. “Can I get either of you something from the bar while you look over the menu?”
Mitch glanced at Tess questioningly.
“Just water, please,” she said.
“How about some wine?” Mitch suggested.
Tess didn’t drink much. But if ever there was a night for it, this was it. “That would be nice.”
“I’ll bring a wine menu, sir,” the waiter offered.
When he left, Tess drew a shaky breath and gave Mitch an apologetic look. “Sorry about that. I had no idea he was even in town.”
“So I gathered. And I’m the one who’s sorry. I heard enough to get a very clear picture of your ex’s character. I’m sorry he upset you.”
Tess tried for a smile, but barely pulled it off. “It was that obvious, huh?”
“To me.”
“And to him. Which was exactly what he intended.” She combed her fingers through her hair distractedly, then clasped her hands tightly together on the table in front of her. “More than anything, though, I’m angry at myself that I still let him do that to me, after all these years.”
“Some scars run deep.”
“Yes, they do. Thank you for stepping in, Mitch. I was sinking fast.”
“You would have been fine.”
“I don’t know,” she said doubtfully. “I can’t believe he can still make me feel so…unworthy, somehow. Of respect. Of consideration. Of love. It wasn’t until you came along that he looked at me with anything but contempt.”
“You didn’t need me to validate your worth.”
“I agree with you, in theory. And in my heart. But you’re right—some scars do run deep.” She closed her eyes and gave a little shudder. “I had forgotten just how bad he could make me feel with only a word or a look.” She took a deep breath, and when she opened her eyes, she could see the concern in his. Again she tried for a smile. “I really am sorry, Mitch. I wanted to give you a pleasant evening, not force you to deal with ghosts from my past.”
Instinctively he reached over and laid his hand over hers. His eyes grew warm and his smile was genuine. “The evening is young, Tess. And ghosts don’t scare me.” For a moment his own eyes clouded, but they cleared so quickly she wondered if it had just been a play of light from the flickering candle on their table. “Now, how about that wine?” he suggested as he gave her clasped hands a gentle squeeze, then released them to open the menu.
After that, the evening seemed to fly. The food was good. The pianist excellent. The atmosphere relaxing. Her tension gradually melted away, leaving her feeling peaceful and happy. Or had her mellow state of mind been induced by the wine? Tess wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was having one of the most pleasant evenings of her life. Mitch was warm and witty, and their conversation ranged from politics to music to favorite vacations. They talked about Uncle Ray and Bruce. About their own childhoods. About philosophy and history and art. About the importance of faith in their lives. And they discovered they had amazingly similar tastes and values. It was one of those evenings she wished would never end.
Mitch seemed to feel the same way. Only after they’d lingered over their coffee and dessert did he finally, reluctantly, look at his watch.
Tess savored the last bite of her dessert, feeling completely at ease and relaxed. “What time is it?”
“Ten o’clock.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding!”
“I wish I was.”
Carefully she laid her fork down, trying to hide her disappointment. “Well, we do have an early day tomorrow. I guess we should go.”
“I guess so.”
But neither made a move to rise. Tess risked a look at Mitch, and their gazes locked. Oddly enough, she saw conflict in his eyes. As if he was wrestling with a difficult problem. What was he thinking? she wondered. And what did he see in her eyes? Liking? Yearning? Attraction? Heaven help her, she hoped not! But since all of those things were in her heart, they might well be reflected in her eyes.
As Mitch gazed at the woman across from him, he struggled to reconcile his conflicting desires. Earlier she’d seemed vulnerable, and he’d wanted to protect her. During dinner her unaffected charm and spontaneity made him want to learn everything about her. Now, as the evening waned and her eyes grew luminous in the candlelight, he just plain wanted. He wanted to feel her soft hair against his cheek. He wanted to run his ha
nds over her silky skin. He wanted to hold her so close that they would forget the past, the present and the future. He wanted no barriers between them.
And there lay the problem. Physical barriers could be dispensed with. But the secrets and the ghosts would remain, making true intimacy impossible. Mitch sighed. It was definitely time to say good-night.
But Tess spoke first, in a voice that was hesitant and uncertain. “I know we drove separately, but I— I have some Irish Cream liqueur at home if you’d like to stop by for a nightcap before calling it a night.”
Mitch took a deep breath. Dear Lord, how much willpower was a man supposed to have? he pleaded silently. How could he refuse the very invitation his heart yearned for? But he had to be firm, he told himself resolutely. He had to stay the course he’d set six years before. He had to!
Yet when he spoke, his heart betrayed him. “That sounds great.”
The words stunned both of them. Tess clearly hadn’t been expecting him to accept her invitation, and Mitch couldn’t believe he had.
“I’ll just follow you home in my car,” he added.
And so he did, Tess noted, her gaze moving back and forth between the rearview mirror and the road in front of her. And with every block she drove, her panic grew. What was she getting herself into? She had asked Mitch to her apartment for one simple reason—a desire to extend one of the most perfect evenings of her life. Her motives were straightforward. The real question was, why had he accepted? And what did he expect? She wished she knew!
So did Mitch. As he drove through the darkness behind her, he asked himself those same questions. He liked Tess. A lot. He enjoyed her company. He admired her spunk and courage. She made him feel happy and somehow whole.
But the real reason he’d accepted her invitation was because he was powerfully attracted to her. To pretend otherwise would be foolish. She made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a very long time, fueled the flames of longing he’d so carefully banked. But Tess didn’t fit into his plans. So it would be better to keep his distance before the flames she was fanning to life erupted into a white-hot blaze. And yet here he was putting himself in a position that could very easily get out of hand.