Sultry

by Mary Lynn Baxter

  “Are you hungry?”

  His question forced her head up. “Not really.”

  His trademark smile rearranged his lips. “Let’s eat, anyway.”

  “Maybe that’s not a bad idea,” she said, beginning to feel a bit woozy, though she made it to the table just fine.

  She had her hand on the cloth covering the food when the phone rang.

  Mitch, who was already at the table, stiffened, but he didn’t move.

  “Aren’t you going to answer it?” she asked, staring at him, at the muscle twitching in his jaw.

  “Excuse me,” he all but snapped, then strode into the bedroom, which was directly off the living area.

  Although he closed the door behind him, she could still hear his voice. Whoever was on the other end of the line wasn’t making Mitch happy. Quickly, she set about unpacking the food, glad to have something to occupy her mind and hands.

  However, nothing she did kept Mitch’s harsh, angry voice at bay. She couldn’t hear the exact words, but the gist of the conversation was not friendly. That much was obvious. She wondered who it was. Most likely a woman, she thought with a stab of unwanted jealousy.

  “Sorry about that,” he said, finally returning to the room, his tone and facial expression as bland as a piece of dry toast.

  “No apology necessary.” Lindsay cocked her head to one side. “Is everything okay?”

  “Ginger peachy,” he said, his features closed.

  Lindsay smothered a sigh. Who was this man who guarded his privacy like a cache of gold? Furthermore, what was wrong with her that she cared? Suddenly, none of this made a bit of sense, nor could she begin to justify it.

  “Are you ready to chow down?” he asked into the silence, his body close to hers as he pulled out a chair for her.

  The chair was a welcome relief, because her knees were wobbling, much to her chagrin. Then she brightened. Maybe it was the wine and not his closeness that was causing her unsteadiness.

  Fat chance—as in no chance.

  Once he was seated across from her, they filled their plates with fried chicken, potato salad and other goodies that Dolly had prepared. But Lindsay couldn’t eat. The first bite she took stuck in her throat. It took another large drink of wine to wash it down.

  She felt his eyes on her. What was he thinking? Perhaps that she was a lush, which could not have been farther from the truth. While she enjoyed a glass of wine with dinner and an occasional one with Mary Jane, she certainly didn’t make a habit of drinking it daily or in large quantities, like now.

  “I wish you wouldn’t look at me like that.”

  “Like how?” he murmured huskily, shoving his paper plate aside.

  Lindsay could feel her heart beating inside her head. “You know.”

  Another muscle twitched in his jaw. “Like I’m about to turn into the Big Bad Wolf and eat you up?”

  Eleven

  Lindsay opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Finally she snapped it shut and averted her gaze.

  “Hey, I was just kidding,” he said huskily. “That’s not going to happen.”

  Lindsay’s breath rushed in and out of her lungs. The truth was, she wanted it to happen. She wanted him to turn into the Big Bad Wolf and devour her. My God, but this was all so crazy, so out of character. Yet it seemed as if everything she did was intentionally to provoke him, to stir up a matching hunger in him.

  “Lindsay.”

  She moistened her lips, then took another large sip of wine. Was she getting tipsy? She hoped so. On the other hand, she had no choice but to hang on to a semblance of control. She felt so split inside.

  “You’d better take it easy on that stuff,” Mitch warned, staring at her out of those eyes that she still wanted to jump into.

  “Not to worry. I’m all right. Actually, I’m feeling better than I’ve felt in a long time.”

  His lips quirked. “That’s obvious.”

  “I’m not drunk, you know.”

  The quirk deepened. “That’s debatable.”

  Deciding to test her ability to walk, Lindsay got up from the table and made her way back into the living area. Though her head felt twice its normal size, she had her sea legs and could definitely function.

  However, the sofa looked awfully good when she eased onto it. Mitch was behind her, and once she was down, he followed suit, sitting close but not touching.

  “Okay?” he asked, his tone indulgent, his eyes delving.

  He might as well have touched her, she thought. When he looked at her like that, her nerves went haywire. “Uh, I’m…great.”

  He merely shook his head, though a smile toyed with his lips. “So what’s this all about?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Okay. I’ll make it plainer. Why did you want to have dinner with me?”

  Before she could answer, he reached across her lap and captured a hand, then concentrated on the inside of her wrist, massaging it with his thumb.

  The room was warm. Too warm. Hot. On fire. Or was it her skin that was on fire? “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t know?”

  With his free hand, Mitch rubbed his chin, which wasn’t quite smooth, then sighed deeply. “Yeah, I’d believe you.”

  “Good, because that’s the truth.”

  Suddenly Mitch’s mouth compressed, and he dropped her hand. “So I can safely say I was right—that this invitation was a lark, something someone who is bored and aimless would do?”

  Lindsay’s breath caught, his sudden mood swing from sexy to critical taking her aback. But only for a moment. She rebounded, anger replacing her hurt feelings. “I’m not bored, nor am I aimless.”

  “Oh? Exactly what do you do besides cater to your daddy?”

  Her eyes flashed. “Who told you that?”

  “No one in particular.” He shrugged. “And every one in general.”

  “Gossip,” she said flatly.

  He shrugged again. “Partly. Only I don’t pay much attention to that. I can pretty well figure what’s going on for myself.”

  “Well, you’re wrong about me.” Her chin tipped with defiance as she took another sip of wine. “I do work.”

  “Really.”

  Lindsay quelled the urge to slap that condescending look off his face. It had been a mistake to come here. “Not officially, maybe, like you. But I work, nonetheless, mainly with charities.”

  “Can’t fault you for that.”

  Although his tone had lightened considerably and no longer sounded judgmental, she suspected he wasn’t all that impressed. And suddenly it was important to her that he be impressed, that he think more of her than that.

  “Actually, I’m hard at it on a project to aid my pet charity, the women’s shelter.”

  Mitch turned pensive. “You know, that’s something I’ve never understood—how a man could strike a woman.”

  “Me, either,” Lindsay said with a shiver. She took another sip of wine to warm her now cold insides. “But it happens every second.”

  “So is your project for public knowledge?”

  Her spirits rose. “You want to hear about it?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  She told him in detail and watched his features carefully for his reaction—good, bad or indifferent.

  “That’s a huge undertaking but a mighty noble one.” He paused. “Somehow, I think you can pull it off.”

  “Thanks,” she said, realizing again how much she wanted his approval.

  “If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”

  She gave him an incredulous look. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am.”

  He stared at her, then shifted his body. Her gaze was irresistibly drawn to the power in his long legs as he stretched them out in front of him.

  Feeling a flush ascend over her face, Lindsay turned away before her eyes ventured lower, to the bulge between his thighs.

  “What about you?” she asked breathlessly. “What do you d
o besides back-breaking labor?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  Lindsay raised her eyebrows. “Yes, I do, or I wouldn’t have asked.”

  He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Not much, actually.”

  “No hobbies?”

  He seemed to hedge. “Nope.”

  “Oh, come on. Surely there’s something you like to do besides work.”

  “There is. Work.”

  The corners of her mouth turned down. “Cute.”

  He stared at her for another long moment through eyes that were completely unreadable, then he stood. “I shouldn’t offer you any more wine, but—”

  “Thanks. I’ll have some.”

  He chuckled. “Hope you know what you’re doing.”

  She didn’t, of course. But he didn’t need to know that. Besides, she wanted to know more about this man, who was much too private to suit her.

  “So what about your family?”

  He tensed. “What about them?”

  “Well, do you have one?” she pressed.

  He blew out a breath, then took a swig of beer. “Yes and no.”

  “That makes perfect sense.”

  Mitch sat back down, his features brooding. She waited in suspense, fearing he would tell her to mind her own business and get the hell out of his house. In fact, she couldn’t have been more surprised when he didn’t.

  “I’m an only child of parents who divorced when I was eleven.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “It was a nasty divorce, and I was caught in the middle. Neither one cared, but they chewed over me anyway, like a dog chews on a bone.”

  “How awful.”

  “My mother wanted me for the child support,” he continued in a bitter tone, “while my dad just wanted to get back at her.”

  “Meanwhile, who took care of you?” Lindsay asked in a small voice, thinking they had a lot in common, after all—souls filled with pain.

  “My grandmother, God rest her soul.”

  “So you were special to each other.”

  “You could say that.” Mitch had a faraway look in his eye and a matching tone in his voice. “She encouraged me to go for broke, to be anything I wanted to be.”

  “Do you think she’d be proud of you now?”

  He gave her a knowing smile. “Obviously you don’t think she would.”

  Lindsay flushed. “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you thought it.”

  Her flush deepened, and he chuckled. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re right. She would’ve been happier if I had used my law degree.”

  Lindsay’s mouth dropped. “You have a law degree?”

  “That I do, though I’ve never used it.”

  When he lapsed into silence, Lindsay prodded in a dazed tone, “Anything else you’d care to add to that?”

  “Not a thing.”

  His eyes roamed over her, which caused her heart to turn a somersault. There was a lot more than she’d realized to this complex man. However, he wasn’t about to share anything else. His posture and his harsh tone said as much.

  “What about you, Lindsay Newman? What makes you tick?”

  “Do you really care?”

  His expression softened for a moment. “For some reason, I do.”

  She couldn’t remove her gaze. It was as if he had mesmerized her with his now-soothing tone and those smoldering eyes.

  “It’s not a pretty story.”

  “I’m pretty tough.”

  She almost smiled. “The summer I graduated from the university, I walked into my mother’s bedroom and—” Lindsay broke off, unable to go on. Would the pain of that day always haunt her?

  “Go on,” he encouraged in that same soothing tone, as if he sensed something terrible had happened.

  “I found her dead. She had taken a gun, put it in her mouth and pulled the trigger.”

  “Good Lord,” Mitch whispered.

  Lindsay closed her eyes. When she opened them again, his face swam in front of her. She blinked several times in order to bring him back into focus.

  “Why did she do it?”

  “We don’t know. She didn’t leave a note. I have my suspicions, but…” Lindsay’s voice faded on a pitiful note.

  “You don’t have to say anything else.”

  Lindsay went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “She was depressed all the time, and ended up spending most of my brother’s and my childhood in a private sanitarium.”

  “How damn unfair.”

  “It gets worse. After finding her like that, I went through hell.” Despite the numbing effect of the alcohol, every breath she took was labored.

  “No doubt.”

  “I sank into a depression myself, so severe that I was also put in a hospital. Not once, but several times.”

  “There’s no shame in that, Lindsay,” he said gently.

  “I’m…working on that.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Mother’s suicide wasn’t easy on any of us,” she added, her tone remaining listless. “But like I said, I was the one who crashed. When I was finally released for what I hoped was the final time, Daddy had his first major heart attack.”

  “Jesus.”

  “That’s why I’ve never left him, why I’ve never gotten a ‘real’ job. I felt so strongly that my place was with him, that I should be here for him if he should need me. After all, I’d lost one parent and couldn’t bear the thought of losing another.”

  “That makes sense,” Mitch said, before reaching over and taking the glass out of her trembling hand.

  “But it hasn’t been easy,” she went on, as if the dam had burst inside her and she couldn’t stop talking.

  And while she was mortified by her own actions, there was something about Mitch’s ability to listen—and not in a judgmental way, either—that loosened her tongue. And the wine, of course. She couldn’t forget that.

  “Daddy’s hard to live with. He wants his own way about everything. And he still sees me as a child who should obey him unconditionally.”

  “He’s just jerking your chain, that’s all.”

  “Absolutely,” she admitted. “And I’ve let him get away with it.”

  “Is he supporting you on the project?”

  “Are you kidding? He’s against it.”

  Mitch snorted. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” He paused and seemed to grope for his next words. “How does he feel about your having been in an institution?”

  “Embarrassed, humiliated.” Lindsay paused, feeling a sudden sting behind her eyelids. Please, dear Lord, don’t let me cry—not in front of him. “He felt the same about my mother.”

  “Maybe he blames himself.”

  “Maybe he does,” she said on a sigh.

  Mitch stood abruptly and peered down at her. “You okay?” His voice was low and thick.

  She couldn’t respond. Her heart was unraveling.

  For another moment, he regarded her from beneath lowered lids. “Look, I’ll be right back. I need another beer.”

  As he left the room, she followed him with eyes as empty as the pit of her stomach.

  Twelve

  Mitch gripped the edge of the counter with such force that he heard his knuckles pop. He didn’t care. What he really wanted to do was jerk the entire counter away from the wall.

  He was just that angry. In fact, he didn’t know when he’d been so furious with himself. First off, he shouldn’t have agreed to have dinner with her. That was the first big mistake. Second, he should have taken her somewhere, so they wouldn’t be alone. Third, he never should have let her drink to the extent that it loosened her tongue.

  He didn’t want to know about her past. He didn’t want to feel sorry for her, not in the least. To add insult to injury, he wanted to kick his own rear for not keeping his mouth shut about himself. She’d asked about his family, and, hell, he’d told her.

  Mitch’s grip on the counter tightened. Why did she have to smell so damn
good, like she’d just bathed in a tub of sweet-smelling flowers? And why did she always have to look so good? No doubt she made a dynamite package with her red-gold hair, ivory skin dusted with freckles, and eyes so brown they looked like chocolate.

  And her body. He couldn’t forget that. It was the best part of the package. He liked his women tall and thin and small-breasted. She was all that and more, especially her breasts. They were perfect.

  No bra.

  Even now, in his mind’s eye, he could see the pout of her nipples visible under her T-shirt. He groaned, raising an unsteady hand to his forehead, now damp with perspiration.

  But the perfection didn’t stop there. She was feisty, with a barely subdued wildness about her, making her that much more attractive. And forbidden. Mostly that, he reminded himself, pushing himself savagely away from the counter and crossing to the refrigerator, where he latched on to a beer. Once the top was off, he tossed his head back and drank half of it at one time.

  But it didn’t help. The booze had no effect on his fractured mind. If he drank a whole six-pack, then maybe he would get some relief. But that wasn’t going to happen. He didn’t dare do anything that stupid. When he went back into that room, he needed to be in full control of his libido and his emotions.

  Scowling, Mitch walked back to the sink and stared outside. He should go back to her. But then, there was no problem with his being missed. He would bet anything she was sound asleep, which could be another problem. He would have to touch her to wake her up.

  He muttered an expletive. If her old man knew where she was, he would have apoplexy, and he would blame Mitch for sure. Lindsay had no business messing around with him. Even if he weren’t an employee, he shouldn’t have anything to do with her.

  He was too old for her, in years and in experience. As far as the world was concerned, he’d lived a lifetime compared to her. Besides, he was empty on the inside. He had nothing left to offer any woman, much less one as full of piss and vinegar as she was.

  That phrase suddenly brought a shadow of a smile to Mitch’s lips. It was something his grandmother used to say all the time and make no apologies for. But then, she was a salty and sassy old woman, much like Lindsay would be if she lived that long.