Sultry

by Mary Lynn Baxter

  Still, no matter how fast her legs moved, she couldn’t outrun the tears that rolled down her face. She wished she could say it was sweat, but she couldn’t.

  First Mary Jane, now Mitch. Within the same day, two people had made comments about her easy, stress-free life. Mary Jane knew better, of course.

  Damn him. Damn her for caring what he thought, how he perceived her. And damn her more for finding him attractive.

  But what cut even deeper was how her apparent idleness appeared to other people outside her rich circle of friends.

  Well, that was about to change. Lindsay straightened her shoulders. She wouldn’t fail this time.

  She wouldn’t.

  Eight

  “Sara, what are you doing here?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Peter,” she responded in a bored tone, “give it a rest. You can get your shorts in a wad quicker than anyone I know.”

  Peter’s mouth formed a cruel line as he grabbed his current mistress by the arm and all but shoved her into a deserted corner of the bank. Once there, he loomed over her and spat, “You listen to me, you little bitch. You’ll do what I tell you.”

  Sara Risinger jerked her arm free, then stuck out her lower lip. “Ah, honey, don’t be like that. It’s just that I wanted to see you, and I needed some cash.”

  “People in hell need ice water, too, and they don’t get it.”

  Her overly made-up face turned ugly. “Now, you see here, I—”

  “No, you see here,” Peter interrupted. “I’m calling the shots. When I want to see you, I’ll come to you.”

  “You’re a real bastard, Peter.”

  He felt himself shaking on the inside and sweating on the outside. He glanced around to see if anyone was aware of them. He didn’t want to be seen with this woman who could give the best blow jobs he’d ever had but who looked like an honest-to-God streetwalker one day and a businesswoman the next.

  Today she looked like the streetwalker.

  He had met her at a party, and when she’d immediately pushed him into the nearest room and unzipped his pants, he’d known he had to have her for his latest plaything, at least until he got tired or married, whichever came first.

  Thinking of getting married heightened Peter’s anger and made him sweat that much more. He turned and scrutinized the lobby. If Cooper were to come in and see him with this woman, the old man would croak on the spot. Then where would that leave him?

  Out on his ass.

  Well, he wasn’t going to allow that to happen. Nothing was going to stop him from marrying Lindsay Newman—certainly not any stupid moves on his own part.

  “Am I going to see you tonight?” Sara cooed, her clear blue eyes steady on him.

  “Depends,” he said absently.

  “On what?” she pressed.

  “None of your business.”

  She gave him a coy smile. “Aw, we both know that’s not true. Why, it’d be a shame for your good family name to get ruined.”

  She might be overly made-up and overdressed, but she was no dummy, nor was she shy, Peter reminded himself. And she wasn’t afraid of him, either, which was something he didn’t understand.

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “Of course not, darling. There you go again, getting yourself all worked up for nothing.”

  Peter shoved his hand into a pocket and pulled out several bills. With flashing eyes, he slapped them in her hand. “You got what you came for. Now get out of here.”

  Despite his obvious revulsion, she leaned over and pecked him on the cheek.

  He jerked back. “You know better than that.”

  She grinned. “Ta-ta, darling.”

  From that moment on, the rest of the day was downhill. Shortly after Sara’s stunt, he was called into the president’s office, where he was chewed out because of a bad loan he’d made.

  Later, his mother, Harriet, called and wanted him to run some unnecessary errands for her. If only he still had money, he wouldn’t have to be indebted to anyone.

  Part of the problem was that at one time he had had money. His entire family had had money—until his father squandered it. Once the attorney had delivered the bad news to him and his mother, he had never been the same. His life had never been the same. Even though his old man was long dead, he still damned him to hell.

  Only after he met Lindsay and, subsequently, her father did he start to climb out of the toilet. Even so, it took a while before he realized the doctor had something else on his mind—finding a suitable husband for his daughter.

  When Cooper had first mentioned that to him, Peter had almost laughed in his face. “I mean no disrespect, sir, but people don’t arrange marriages anymore, not even in the South.”

  “That’s not at all what I had in mind, young man.” Cooper’s tone was cold and condescending. “If you’re interested in my daughter, then it’s up to you to make her fall in love with you.”

  Love? Hell, he hadn’t cared about that. But if that was what it would take to feather his own nest, then so be it.

  “Why is that so important to you, sir?”

  “I think it’s time she settled down and had a family of her own.”

  “Don’t you think she’s capable of handling that on her own?”

  “No, I don’t,” Cooper replied, his tone remaining cold.

  “So what’s in it for me?” Peter asked bluntly, thinking, what did he have to lose? Besides, from where he stood, he seemed to be in the driver’s seat. This man wanted something from him. And nothing came free—at least, not as far as he was concerned. He might as well get that straight right up front.

  “Let’s just say I’ll make it more than worth your while.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  Cooper’s face turned unnaturally red. “Even though you’re from good stock, you lack manners, boy.”

  Peter didn’t so much as flinch. “What I lack, sir, is cash.”

  “Once you’re married to my daughter, your money woes will be past history. Is that plain enough?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Immediately after that chat with Cooper, he had upped his pursuit of Lindsay. To date, however, he’d made little headway. The road had been much rockier than he’d anticipated.

  Lindsay had a hard shell around her that he hadn’t been able to crack. And he was getting disgusted. But Cooper wanted them married. His mother wanted them married.

  Somehow he had to convince Lindsay that she wanted to be married. To him.

  That thought was still uppermost in his mind when he left the bank and stopped by the Newman mansion. He was getting out of his vehicle, parked behind Lindsay’s in the circular drive, when she bounded out the front door.

  He watched as a look of displeasure changed her features. Though anger surged through him, Peter managed to hang on to his control. “Hey, where are you going in such a hurry?”

  “To the shelter.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Not an urgent one, no.”

  It was her aloof and somewhat patronizing attitude that irked him, made him want to shake her. “Then don’t go. I’d like to take you to dinner.”

  “Sorry, I can’t.”

  “Can’t—or won’t?”

  Her lips twisted. “Look, Peter, don’t start, okay?”

  “Fine. Another time.”

  Lindsay gave him a weak smile before getting into her car and driving off. He turned and rang the doorbell. Moments later, Dolly showed him into the parlor, where Cooper was indulging in a before-dinner drink.

  “Ah, Peter, it’s good to see you. Come on in and have a seat.”

  “Thanks,” Peter said, forcing his voice back into its normal range. He was still smarting from the cold shoulder that Lindsay had given him.

  “Care for a drink?” Cooper asked. “You look like you could use it.”

  “In the worst way.”

  “Feel free to help yourself.”

  Peter nodded, then made his wa
y to the small bar, where he poured himself a stiff drink. He took a healthy swig of it before he sat across from Cooper, who was watching him with raised eyebrows and a displeased expression on his face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “This hasn’t been one of my best days.”

  “We all have them,” Cooper responded in an impatient and dismissive tone.

  Peter knew where Lindsay got her holier-than-thou attitude, but that didn’t make dealing with it any easier. And if the truth were known, he knew he was guilty of the same behavior, though the loss of money and status had tempered him.

  “What’s the deal with Lindsay?” he asked.

  Cooper’s body stiffened, but he didn’t sidestep the question. “I wish the hell I knew.”

  “She acts as if I’m contagious, or something worse.”

  “Then it’s up to you to change that.”

  Peter almost strangled on his sip of vodka. “What do you think I’ve been doing? Hell, Cooper, I don’t even think she likes me.”

  “She doesn’t know what she likes right now.” Cooper scowled. “She’s on this bloody crusade to save all the battered women and their children in Garnet.”

  “Great.”

  “Only I’m not standing for it, and I told her so.”

  “Do you think she’ll mind you?” Peter knew he was being glib, if not disrespectful, but he didn’t care. He was about at his wits’ end, trying to woo Lindsay. But he couldn’t afford to give up. He didn’t have that luxury.

  “In the end, she’ll come around,” Cooper said. “She’ll do like she’s told.”

  “I’m counting on that.”

  “But you have to do your part, you know. Make her want you.”

  “I’m aware of that,” Peter snapped, “but for some reason, Lindsay remains immune to my charm.”

  “I may be partly responsible for that. I’ve given her a grace period.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I’ve backed off from demanding she set a wedding date.”

  Peter gave him an incredulous look. “Do you think that’s wise?”

  “Yes,” Cooper said in a self-assured tone. “I know how to work my daughter.”

  Peter shrugged.

  “But in the end, I’ll have my way. She will marry you.”

  “Works for me,” Peter quipped, then finished off his drink. “I can’t wait to be a kept man.”

  Mitch squeezed the phone receiver so tightly that he felt the pressure on his knuckles. If he weren’t careful, he would break them. And for what—because his ex-wife had called him?

  Hell, he didn’t need this aggravation, but short of hanging up on her, he didn’t have much choice. All the more reason why he should not have answered his phone.

  Why had he?

  “So what’s up, Wendy?” He tried to hold his irritation to a minimum, but wasn’t sure he’d pulled it off.

  “Nothing, really.”

  He blew out a harsh breath, then forced himself to ask, “So how’ve you been?”

  “Not so good, Mitch.”

  He wasn’t about to ask her to elaborate. Experience had taught him that. If he dared show any sympathy whatsoever, she took advantage.

  “I still miss you lots.”

  “Your ploy won’t work, Wendy. For your own sake, you’ve got to stop fanning the embers. They’re stone cold.”

  “I refuse to believe that,” she wailed.

  “Where’s your husband, Wendy?” he asked in a tired voice. “You are still married, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to call me.”

  She hiccuped.

  “Ah, I get it. You’re drinking.”

  “I see you haven’t changed,” she said, her voice now tainted with unsuppressed venom.

  “Look, I’m going to hang up before we both say things we’ll be sorry for. Take care of yourself.”

  Once he was off the phone, Mitch felt as if he’d been beaten with a wet rope. Did one’s ex ever completely disappear? He was beginning to think not, though he hadn’t heard from Wendy in quite some time, not since she’d remarried. Apparently that marriage had also gone sour. He hated that, but it had nothing to do with him.

  Women. His best recourse was to avoid them, period. Except, maybe, for Lindsay Newman.

  An expletive colored the air as Mitch made his way to the sink, where he placed his empty glass. He had to forget her. But how could he, when she kept popping up at the most unexpected times?

  What was going on? Were those encounters an accident? Or were they accidentally on purpose? He didn’t have a clue, nor did he want one. Nor did he want to think about her with another man. He would guess she probably had to beat men off with a stick.

  Another expletive zinged the air. Maybe if he hadn’t taken a lunch break, he wouldn’t have had time to think. But today the rain had been impossible, so he’d given the hands a break.

  No excuse.

  Thoughts of her were forbidden. While she made a great package, a package he wouldn’t mind unwrapping were the circumstances different, nothing was going to happen. The reason was obvious: the circumstances weren’t different. So he might as well keep a tight rein on his libido and try his best to ignore her.

  Yeah, right, like he could ignore a throbbing tooth-ache.

  “Hey, boss, you in there?”

  Mitch gave a start at the unexpected voice. Pulling his jeans up a bit higher, he strode to the front door. Jesse stood on the porch, hat in hand.

  “We got trouble,” he said.

  “How so?”

  “A tree’s done gone and fallen across Ms. Newman’s balcony, but she wasn’t hurt.”

  Mitch rolled his eyes back in his head. Super. Just what he didn’t need.

  Nine

  “I cannot believe this,” Lindsay moaned, her chocolate eyes meeting those of the housekeeper.

  Dolly was the first to roll hers heavenward. “Don’t you worry none. Mr. Mitch will take care of this mess.”

  At the mention of Mitch’s name, Lindsay’s heart suddenly turned over. What would her heart do when he actually got here? No matter—she was glad he was on his way.

  Lindsay’s gaze roamed the room. Dolly had called this a mess. Well, that was a gross understatement. The tree, sprawled across the balcony just shy of the French doors leading into her room, was a disaster.

  For the past two days it had done nothing but rain—the hard, earth-soaking kind. Still, Lindsay had had no idea that the weather could topple a big oak.

  “It could’ve been worse, child.”

  “You’re so right, Dolly. It could’ve crashed into my room or hit my computer.” Lindsay shuddered to think about that, because she’d put in so many hours at that screen, working on her project. Of course, she had a backup diskette, but it was beside the computer, which meant it could easily have been destroyed, too.

  “It could’ve hit you,” Dolly pointed out. “I’m not worried about some ol’ machine.”

  “I am,” Lindsay muttered.

  “Do you need me to stay here?” Dolly asked.

  “Absolutely not. You go ahead and do whatever you have to do.”

  Dolly nodded. “I’ll tell Mr. Cooper to come up when he gets home.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you won’t have to. There’ll be more commotion around here than if the alarm had gone off.”

  Dolly merely shook her head. “I’ll check on you later.”

  “Thanks, love,” Lindsay said, watching the housekeeper waddle out the door.

  Once she was alone, Lindsay plopped down on the edge of the bed, wondering how long it would take to clean up all the debris and repair the balcony. Several days, she suspected, since the damage also affected the rooms directly under hers.

  At least something positive had come out of the day. She had made contact with her two wealthy, charity-minded friends, Ash Fisher, an oilman with mega bucks, and Peggy Potter, a socialite with the same big
bucks. After pitching her project to them, they were both very interested and wanted to be kept informed as she went forward.

  While neither had actually committed funds, Lindsay knew their money would be forthcoming if she could pull the details all together. She had held her breath, waiting for at least one of them to ask about Cooper’s role in her undertaking. To her relief, that particular question had not been asked.

  She doubted her daddy had given their conversation any further thought once he had gone on record with his disapproval. He undoubtedly figured she would drop the idea like a hot potato.

  Wrong. Now that she had someone else interested, she was determined to steamroll ahead. Most likely, there would be a price to pay for her flagrant show of independence, but she would gladly pay it.

  If only she could get Cooper to the shelter… Lindsay smiled a bitter smile. That was never going to happen. But if he were ever to weaken and walk through the doors, he would understand where her passion stemmed from.

  Today would have been a perfect example of how critical the circumstances were. After she had left her friends, she had gone to the shelter and spent the remainder of the morning there, meeting with the director, Rita Thomas.

  If ever there was a saint, it was Rita. Lindsay admired her more each time she met with her. She was doing an outstanding job with the women and the budget. But sometimes the load seemed too heavy to bear.

  Still, Rita never complained. She was undoubtedly one of the sweetest and warmest women Lindsay had ever known. Though she was only in her early forties, she had lived a lifetime, having barely escaped with her life from an abusive husband. But since his death several years ago, Rita had gotten herself back together and made her life count for something.

  Lindsay often thought the reason they had hit it off so well was that they had both suffered terribly, though in totally different ways and for totally different reasons. But it didn’t matter. They had each weathered some severe storms and had come out the stronger—or at least Rita had.

  Lindsay wasn’t so sure about herself. It seemed she still had a lot to learn and a long way to go. However, she never failed to draw strength from Rita, and today had been no exception.

  “So what’s up?” Rita had asked, once she had poured them a cup of coffee and sat back down at the two-seater table in the small kitchen.