“That way of thinking is archaic, Daddy. I’m only twenty-six years old, for heaven’s sake.”
“That’s beside the point, and not even the most important issue. No young woman of your prestige and status should be without a husband.” He paused, as if to let his words sink in. “I’ve already pointed that out countless times. How long is it going to take before it soaks in?”
Lindsay flushed and bit down on her lower lip.
“It’s just not proper. Your mother would have agreed with me one hundred percent.”
Lindsay bristled but continued to hold her tongue, again wise enough to know that now was not the time for a final showdown, not when he was recuperating from a nasty accident. Yet his old-fashioned attitude sent her irritation factor soaring off the charts.
“We’ll talk later, Daddy.” She made her way toward the door.
“Good night, my dear.”
She swung back around and smiled, though not with her eyes. “Good night.”
Thirty minutes later, Lindsay was sitting in the parlor, sipping on flavored coffee from the silver pot that Dolly had left on one corner of the table. She had just finished a delicious meal in the small, less formal dining room and was feeling her eyes grow heavier by the minute. Moments after they closed, she heard the doorbell chime.
Groaning inwardly, her lashes fluttered open and she saw Peter standing in the doorway. Oh, brother, she thought, her heart plummeting.
“I hope I’m not intruding.”
“Hello, Peter,” she said, not bothering to hide her aggravation.
If he picked up on it, he didn’t show it. He crossed to the couch and sat down on the opposite end. “Dolly let me in,” he said inanely. “She thought you might enjoy some company, said you seemed lonely.”
Boy, was Dolly in big trouble. “I’m not lonely. I’m exhausted.”
“In that case, I won’t stay long.”
A silence fell between them.
Peter didn’t have to say anything for her to know that he was mentally shifting gears, getting ready for what he hoped was the big and final pitch.
“Lindsay, you already know how I feel about you.”
She deliberately set her cup down on the tray and looked at him. “I know that you don’t love me.”
He was obviously stunned by her bluntness and seemed to scramble for a suitable reply. “You don’t know any such thing.”
“Look, Peter, this is not a good time—not when I’ve just arrived back home and not so soon after Daddy’s accident.” God, did she sound like a broken record or what?
He let out a deep sigh. “All right, Lindsay. But you should know, I’m not going to go away.”
She hadn’t thought he would, not because he loved her, but because Cooper wanted him in the picture. And for whatever reason, Peter seemed content to be led by the nose.
Unwittingly, the thought crossed her mind that the “gardener” she had seen earlier could never be coerced into doing anything he didn’t want to do. The set of his jaw and his air of self-confidence had said as much. But then, like her brother, Peter was weak in many ways. If she were to marry him, they would live in the big house, in her suite, which was something her daddy also wanted.
Would there ever come a time when pleasing Cooper wasn’t important to her? Or would the legacy of her mother’s suicide always force her to feel overly dependent on the one parent she had left, even when he didn’t always deserve the level of her devotion?
“I don’t know about you,” Lindsay said suddenly, “but I need some fresh air.”
Before Peter could respond, she was up, had the French doors open and was out on the cozy side veranda. Peter followed suit with their cups. It was when she reached for hers that her hand froze.
Him. Again.
“Lindsay, what’s wrong?” Peter demanded.
“Er…nothing.” She forced a smile, and with fingers that weren’t quite steady, she took the cup.
However, her eyes never strayed off Mitch Rawlins, who was standing on the front porch of his cottage, leaning against a post. Even though he was too far away for her to see his eyes, she sensed he was also staring at her.
Lindsay’s heart raced, and her palms turned sweaty. Before she could begin to sort through this explosive and unexpected reaction, Mitch pushed his big body away from the post. Yet his gaze seemed to be stuck on her.
She stiffened as a myriad of emotions charged through her. This was the second time she’d seen this man. Both times she’d responded in an animalistic way. Her face flamed. It was purely physical, she told herself, which in itself was crazy.
The feeling would go away, she assured herself, forcing down the desperation closing in on her.
Yet there was something about him, something about his razor-stubbled face and big body, that messed with her hormones. Suddenly she felt torn between her body’s betrayal and her mind’s determination to keep her distance.
“Damn,” she muttered.
Peter gave her a strange look. “Did you say something?”
“Don’t pay any attention to me,” she said lamely. “I was just thinking out loud.”
“Care to share?”
“No,” she said bluntly.
She heard his sharp intake of breath and knew that she’d angered him. But when he spoke, his tone was conciliatory.
“Well, it was a good idea to come outside. The evening’s lovely.”
Lindsay didn’t bother to respond. She was too busy watching Mitch turn and saunter back into his house. Only after he disappeared did she release her breath.
Four
“Good morning.”
When she heard Mary Jane Morgan’s voice on the phone, Lindsay’s face brightened. M.J., as she was affectionately called, had been her friend since grade school. A divorcée with no children, she worked as a paralegal for a prestigious law firm.
“Hey, I was thinking about you,” Lindsay said, reaching for her coffee cup and taking a healthy sip, hoping the caffeine would nudge her into action. She hadn’t slept well; as a result, she felt a tad hungover.
“But not enough to call me, you wretch.”
Lindsay laughed. “Hey, give me a break. I just got home.”
“Excuses, excuses.”
“So when are we going to get together?” Lindsay asked, already feeling much better. M.J. was like a strong tonic. Her jaded sense of humor could cure almost any ills, especially hers.
During the months and years following Lindsay’s mother’s suicide, she didn’t know what she would have done without M.J., who had stuck by her side through the worst of times.
Even though her own life hadn’t been littered with roses, Mary Jane never complained. She’d gotten divorced shortly after she married, having learned her husband was gay. That blow had been so severe, it had taken her a long time to get over it. Now, however, she was on the prowl again, a fact she would readily admit. Her honesty about it tickled Lindsay.
“So how’s the lord of the manor?”
Only M.J. could refer to Cooper in such a manner and get by with it. But she did it in such an unmalicious way that Lindsay never took umbrage.
“He’s still lording over everyone.”
M.J. giggled. “Figures. All joking aside, how’s he doing?”
“He’s good, which is actually a miracle, considering what he’s been through.”
“Then you really didn’t have to cut your trip short—but I’m glad you did. I hate it when you’re gone. I don’t have anyone to whine to.”
“Well, it’s good to know I’ve been missed—for whatever reason,” Lindsay said drolly.
“So what’s up now that you are back? Same old one and two?”
“I hope not.”
“Don’t knock it, my friend. I could handle being spoiled and rich and a lady of leisure.”
“So that’s what you really think of me,” Lindsay said with forced lightness, trying not to take what her friend said as anything other than a joke. “Some frien
d you are.”
“I’m just green with envy, that’s all. But hey, I was only teasing. You know that. You do more for others than anyone I know—or will ever know, for that matter.”
“I’d do more if only Daddy was more understanding,” Lindsay said. He’s after me big time to marry Peter.”
M.J. groaned. “I thought you had that all settled before you went to Europe.”
“I thought so, too, but I guess I was mistaken.”
“I hope you’re not weakening. Peter’s a jerk.”
Lindsay sighed. “I agree one hundred percent. However, Daddy thinks he’s the man for me.”
“Screw whether you love him or not, right?”
“Right.”
“If it’s grandkids he wants, why doesn’t he go knock on Tim’s door?”
“Because Tim would tell him to butt out in a heartbeat.”
“So why don’t you do the same thing?” M.J. hesitated. “Don’t you think it’s past time? You’re strong now, Lindsay. You’ve come a long way, and you don’t need Cooper like you once did.”
“I know, M.J. It’s just that old habits die hard.”
“What you ought to do is move out of that house, get an apartment.”
Lindsay was silent for a long moment, choosing her words carefully—not that it would do any good. Mary Jane could read her like a book without a cover. “You’re right, only I don’t have the guts. I’ll admit it.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“But I do have something in mind.”
“Oh?” Mary Jane’s voice perked up considerably.
“Don’t ‘oh’ me. I’m really serious.”
“Are we talking about a plan, or what?”
“I guess you could call it a plan. Yeah, that’ll work.”
Lindsay could picture Mary Jane’s petite features scrunched in a frown while the wheels were turning inside her head.
“So?”
“So I’ll tell you about it another day, over lunch.”
“That’s a dirty trick to play on me.”
“Well, it’ll get you out of that office for a little while, anyway.”
“I’m out today.”
“Only because it’s Saturday,” Lindsay pointed out. “And the day’s not over yet.”
“Boy, have you got my number.”
“Just like you’ve got mine.”
M.J. laughed. “So are you going to the shelter?”
“Maybe this afternoon.”
“Any news from there?”
“No,” Lindsay said. “But then, I haven’t called Rita.”
Rita Thomas, director of the women’s shelter, was another person Lindsay adored and could identify with, the main reason being that they had both suffered great heartaches in their lives.
Even though Lindsay hadn’t been associated with the shelter all that long, her newest charity project had quickly turned into one she was quite passionate about.
“Call me when you’re ready to share the big secret.”
“Actually, my news involves the shelter.”
“That’s great, especially if it keeps you out of the shrink’s office.”
“So far, so good,” Lindsay said.
“Well, I’ve certainly seen a difference in you since you took the shelter under your wing.”
“We’ll see if it pans out.”
“My, but you sound mysterious.”
“Well, you’ll just have to put your curiosity in cold storage for a while longer.”
“Whatever. Meanwhile, get rid of that prick Peter.”
Lindsay’s lips twitched. “Yes, ma’am. Talk to you later.”
The instant she placed the receiver back in its cradle, her smile fled. She wished Mary Jane hadn’t mentioned Peter again. The thought of him could ruin her day.
She got up and stretched. When Mary Jane called, she had just finished dressing in leggings, a long shirt and her running shoes. Now she was ready to hit the outdoors. Losing sleep had definitely put a damper on her body and her spirits. However, a trek outdoors would remedy that. It would also serve as a morale booster for when she approached Cooper later with her idea—something she didn’t have to put off, since he was definitely on the mend.
Still, it wasn’t a discussion she was looking forward to.
A few minutes later, Lindsay strolled through the kitchen. “Morning, Dolly.”
“Mornin’, child. Want some breakfast?”
Lindsay kissed her on the cheek. “Not until after I exercise.”
Dolly snorted, her black eyes looking Lindsay up and down. “That’s the last thing you should be doing. You need some meat on those scrawny bones.”
“Don’t start. Exercise keeps me sane.”
Dolly merely sniffed this time, but kept her silence.
“So where’s Daddy? Has he been down?”
“Hours ago, or so it seems. He’s having coffee with some of his men friends.”
“That’s a good sign.”
Dolly positioned her hands on her hips. “You should worry more about yourself than him, you know?”
“I know.”
Lindsay smiled, walked out the door, and immediately wavered. For a late June morning it was hot and muggy, a rarity. The eighties was the norm. She shuddered to think what the remainder of the summer would bring. She considered returning to her room and putting on shorts. But she didn’t. It wouldn’t hurt her to perspire; if nothing else, it would clean out her pores.
Suddenly Mitch Rawlins came to mind, and her good mood instantly disappeared. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from wondering if he ever broke a sweat. Somehow, she doubted it. After all, he had a crew to do the manual labor.
That was why, when she rounded the corner of the big house and saw him in the flesh, she pulled up short, barely able to keep her mouth from flying open.
She was shocked enough at having come upon him unexpectedly, but the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt made matters worse. And droplets of sweat were flying off him as he dug a shovel into the rich earth.
She stood mute and swallowed hard. What to do? For some inexplicable reason, she wanted to turn and run. Yet she wanted to stay put, too. The latter won out, especially when he stopped what he was doing and faced her.
“Mornin’,” he said in a low, mocking tone, though he was looking at her with something akin to a fluid passion that seemed to link them.
“Hi,” Lindsay responded in a breathless voice, while her eyes—half wild, half afraid—stared greedily at him.
Was her face red? Probably. She couldn’t stop staring, totally captivated by his six-foot-plus frame, her gaze homing in on that bare chest matted with dark crisp hair that curled its way down to his navel, stopping at the waistband of his jeans.
And though she had no intention of taking her gaze any farther, she did, then jerked her eyes upward again, warmth climbing into her cheeks.
Heat boiled inside her suddenly, and her insides felt scalded. Jerking her gaze away from him, she schooled her features to show none of the turmoil raging inside her.
“You’re Lindsay Newman,” he said in a low, easy-sounding voice.
Lindsay forced her eyes back on him. “And you’re Mitch Rawlins.”
He gave her another mocking smile at the same time that he took several fingers and wiped a thick layer of sweat off his forehead. Besides having a billboard body, his face was easy on the eyes, though not handsome in the true sense of the word. His features were too strong and his beard too heavy, giving the impression that he needed a shave, which in itself was a bizarre turn-on.
His eyes were a dark blue, complementing his dark hair, which had a gray streak running through it, another turn-on. While his looks had certainly garnered her attention, it was the fact that he was actually working the ground himself that upped her curiosity another notch.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked, interrupting the growing silence.
His words were pointed, which boiled her bloo
d again, but for a different reason. “I can’t think of anything,” she said, forcing a casualness to her tone that she didn’t feel.
“Well, then you won’t mind if I get back to work.”
His straight-from-the-hip directness drew both her anger and her admiration. “What are you going to plant there?”
He paused, raised his head, and though his lips twitched, she couldn’t say he was smiling.
“Do you really care?”
This time that directness hit a raw nerve. Nonetheless, she didn’t blink. “Not really.”
The corners of his sculptured lips rose in a real smile. “Didn’t think so.”
Even if she’d wanted to move, she couldn’t have. The power of that smile held her feet to the ground. “I guess I’ll see you around,” she finally managed to say.
He leaned on his shovel. “Probably will.”
She watched the sweat trickle down his belly before she lifted her eyes to his. Though the contact was brief, it was lethal.
“Have a good day, you hear?”
His drawling words broke the spell and jolted her into action. She turned and took off, her heart beating faster than her feet could possibly run.
Five
“Ouch!”
Lindsay figured Cooper and Dolly had heard her muttered groan of pain. She’d been in the small office in her bedroom suite all morning, going over her upcoming charity commitments. But every time she moved, she winced with pain, either silently or out loud.
Her shins were a mess. In fact, she had shin splints worse than she’d ever had them. She had no one to blame but herself for this predicament. Following her less than satisfying encounter with Mitch Rawlins, she had started to jog, thinking it would work off some of her frustration.
The problem was, she got carried away and took her stress management too far. She ended up jogging six miles instead of the three she normally did. Now, two days later, she was still paying for her over-industrious whim. Still, it had made her feel better, even though thoughts of Mitch Rawlins had run alongside her.
What was it going to take to strike him from her mind? Right off, she couldn’t think of anything. Disgusted, Lindsay turned back to the computer screen, to the words she’d typed. If she wanted to remove them, all she had to do was hit the delete key.
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