by Gina Wilkins
Mitch shook his head. “Lost it all.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks. How’s your family?”
The elevator door opened into the parking garage and Connor fell into step beside Mitch to reply. “All doing well, thanks. Alexis is eleven now, thinks she’s grown. Anthony is five months, and growing like a weed. And Mia somehow juggles her work and motherhood and my crazy schedule without blinking an eye, just like always.”
Mitch chuckled. “Tell her I said hello, will you?”
“I will, thanks.”
Mitch was still thinking about that brief conversation with Connor when he buckled himself into his car a few minutes later. An Arkansas native, Connor had married a local woman, attended college and medical school in the state and had listed the local children’s hospital as his first choice when applying for his residency program. He seemed to have no interest whatsoever in leaving the state where he had spent his entire life, settling happily into marriage, fatherhood and the medical career he had worked hard to attain. Granted, Mitch didn’t know Connor well, but if Connor felt at all constrained by his deeply rooted lifestyle, Mitch had seen no signs of it.
Mitch loved his job. Was close to his mother and sisters. Had really good friends here. So what was missing in his life that made him yearn for something more? A house, wife, kids? He wanted all those things eventually, of course, but he hadn’t really given them much thought until this point. His restlessness had seemed to tug him in other directions—adventures and experiences outside what he had always known here. And now that his rented house was gone, his possessions few, his family all in good health and busy with their own lives, he wasn’t sure what was holding him back from actively looking for someplace new to try.
His thoughts turned to Jacqui, who had been in his mind so much lately. She was certainly different from the women he’d dated before. Was that part of his fascination with her? From what he had gathered, her background was almost diametrically opposite to his, enough to seem exotic to him. Was she right to worry that he was only amusing himself with her while he was at loose ends—if that was, indeed, why she was so hesitant about spending more time with him.
He couldn’t accept that unrealistic excuse she’d given about not wanting to play Cinderella to his Prince Charming. Seriously, who thought that way these days? He had never paid attention to social class distinctions, and even if he did, it wasn’t as if he came from a high-brow background. His dad had been a sci-fi-loving physics professor at a state university, his mom was an accountant—people who worked hard at their jobs to pay the bills and support their families. The fact that all three of their offspring had attended medical school was mostly coincidence—or maybe the younger two had been influenced by the older sibling’s choice. Meagan had teasingly claimed they were always copying her.
As far as Mitch was concerned, it was just a job—a good job, sure, one that required a lot of training and paid well afterward, but still simply the career he had chosen. Jacqui ran his sister’s household, which required skills plenty of people lacked. He couldn’t see why their choice of vocations should have anything to do with their being friends. Maybe more than friends.
But if Jacqui was fretting about that foolish quibble, then it looked as though it was up to him to convince her differently. There might be other reasons why a flirtation—or more—between them wouldn’t work, but he wasn’t going to let anything as superficial as tax brackets keep them from finding out for sure. Not if he could help it anyway.
One thing about Mitch Baker, the guy was certainly persuasive. Jacqui wasn’t sure how he’d talked her into an outing Sunday evening, but she found herself sitting beside him in a movie theater, sharing a tub of popcorn and watching an action film play on the giant screen. Maybe she’d accepted because it was less awkward being out in public with him than alone in the house. It was hard to be tense and formal with popcorn grease on their fingers and oversize 3-D glasses perched on their noses.
Watching Mitch laughing at a groan-worthy pun from one of the main characters, tossing popcorn kernels in his mouth and peering through the plastic lenses, it was hard to imagine him in an operating room, gowned and gloved and barking orders while piecing together a child’s shattered bones. She pushed that image out of her mind immediately. This Mitch, the one in jeans and silly glasses, was someone with whom she could relax, have fun, flirt a little. The other Mitch—well, she didn’t even know him.
It wasn’t that she didn’t think herself good enough to date a doctor, she assured herself. As battered as it had been, her self-esteem wasn’t quite that low. The problem was that she didn’t have enough in common with that other Mitch—the one with advanced degrees and enough money to look at houses in some of the nicest neighborhoods. The Mitch who could look at those houses and feel no excitement at the thought of owning one and nesting contentedly into it.
He laughed again at an on-screen antic and grinned at her to share the joke. He looked so cute and silly in the big glasses that she had to smile back. There was no reason she couldn’t enjoy spending a few hours with this Mitch. It wasn’t as if she’d had all that many dates lately—not that this was a date, exactly, she corrected herself quickly. Still, she figured it was good for her to keep her socializing skills from getting too rusty.
She reached for another handful of popcorn.
Of course, every date had to end. In her experience, they most often ended at the door. It was awkward enough dealing with the good-night kiss decision after an ordinary first date. It felt even more strange having Mitch follow her inside, knowing they would be sharing breakfast—and not because she had invited him to stay.
Not that this evening had been a real date, of course.
“How about some tea?” Mitch asked when they walked inside the house. “You like to drink tea at night, right?”
“Yes, I do,” she agreed. “I’ll make some.”
“I’ll do it,” he corrected her. “I think it’s my turn to make the tea. I’ve watched you use that fancy boiling-water dispenser at the sink, and I know where you store the teas, so I can manage.”
A little flustered by the offer, she stammered, “I, uh—”
“Chamomile, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“It’ll be ready in just a few minutes.”
She blinked after him as he headed for the kitchen. Her kitchen, she thought with a slight frown. Well, not really, but there was no denying she was a bit proprietary about it. She heard a muted crash from that direction and she winced. She’d fed Waldo before leaving that evening, but she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to wander casually through the kitchen to check on him—and a few other things.
She forced herself to remain in the living room instead. To give her hands something to do, she pulled out her knitting. She was working on a new pattern, a pretty lacework shawl with a delicate scalloped edge. She’d chosen a fine, shell-pink yarn, and the project was turning out nicer than she had even expected. She usually made heavier scarves and shawls, fashioned more for warmth and comfort than delicacy.
Mitch returned to the room with a steaming cup of tea in each hand, a frown of concentration on his face as he made an effort not to spill them. “That’s a pretty thing you’re making. What is it?”
She set the project aside to reach for her tea. “A shawl.”
“Something you’re going to sell in your friend’s shop?”
“I haven’t decided yet. It could be a gift for someone.”
He sat at the other end of the sofa and they chatted about the movie while they sipped their tea. When they’d run out of things to say about the lightweight plot, they fell silent. Jacqui couldn’t think of a thing to say to fill the suddenly noticeable quiet. The comfort she had felt with Mitch at the theater was dissipating now, leaving her inexplicably ill at ease again and much too aware of him sitting next to her.
She drained the tea in a long swallow, almost burning her throat because it was s
till hot. Fortunately, she managed not to sputter. That would have been embarrassing, she thought with a slight wince. “I’m getting really tired. Not much sleep last night. I think I’ll go check on Waldo and then head up to bed.”
Studying her face, Mitch nodded. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll just watch the news and then I’ll probably turn in.”
Looking as though he’d settled where he was for a while, he reached for the television remote control as she stood with her empty teacup. He didn’t act at all as though they’d just been out on a date. So maybe she wasn’t the only one who had chosen not to view it in that light.
And how foolish was it that her feminine ego was just a little piqued that his attention had already wandered away from her to the TV?
“Thanks for taking me to the movie,” she said, hovering in the doorway. “I had a very nice time.”
He glanced away from the screen to send her a smile. “Thank you for going with me. I’ve been wanting to see that film.”
“Sure. So, um, good night. then.”
“Good night. I’ll be leaving very early in the morning, so don’t bother trying to get up to make breakfast. I’ll grab something at the hospital.”
She nodded, hesitated another microsecond, then turned to carry her teacup to the kitchen. For some reason, she felt as though there was something more she should have said, but she couldn’t for the life of her decide what it might have been. Mitch was already watching TV again anyway.
Maybe he hadn’t found her as interesting as he’d thought he would once he’d actually talked her into sort of going out with him. So much for her concerns about whether there would come an awkward attempt at a good-night kiss.
Realizing she was pouting a little, she pulled her bottom lip firmly back into place and told herself she was glad that precarious experiment was behind them now.
Mitch waited until Jacqui was out of his sight before releasing a long, pent-up breath. If she’d had any idea how hard it had been for him not to at least try to kiss her tonight, she’d probably have bolted from the room. Her lips had been so tempting when she’d pursed them slightly to blow on her hot tea, when she’d lowered her cup to leave her mouth moist and glistening. But he had been determined to prove to her that she didn’t have to worry about staying alone in this house with him even though he’d told her earlier that he was attracted to her.
He had no intention of taking advantage of their situation. Of putting her in an awkward situation with her employer’s brother. The fact that they were both staying here was unrelated to what he hoped was a developing connection between them, other than the fact that the enforced proximity had made him realize just how strong his attraction to her had always been.
Now, if only he didn’t do anything to run her off—figuratively, at least—before he even had a chance to see where that attraction could lead.
Jacqui could tell when Mitch dragged in at 9:00 p.m. Monday that he’d had a rough day. She’d gotten a call four hours earlier from his pleasant and efficient secretary informing her that Dr. Baker was in surgery and would not be home in time for dinner. Though she’d been a bit surprised by the call, Jacqui had thanked the woman for the call, and she’d been touched that Mitch had gone to the effort of getting the message to her.
She wouldn’t have minded if he’d simply not shown up for dinner, of course. He certainly had no obligation to eat there every evening, whether he notified her or not. From experience with her employers’ somewhat erratic schedules, she cooked nothing that couldn’t be safely stowed in the fridge and reheated later. But it had been thoughtful of him to let her know.
Taking one look at his face when he walked into the living room, she set her knitting aside and jumped to her feet. “You look worn out. Have you had anything to eat?”
“I’m not hungry, thanks.”
It wasn’t exactly an answer about when he’d last eaten, but she didn’t bother arguing with him. Even at this hour, it was still hot as blazes outside on this first Monday in August, so she didn’t offer hot tea. Instead, she said, “Sit down. I’ll get you something cold to drink. There’s fresh lemonade or a pitcher of iced tea. Which would you prefer?”
“You don’t have to—”
“Mitch,” she broke in firmly. “Which do you want?”
“Tea, please,” he conceded, sinking onto the couch.
“I’ll be right back.”
He had his head back when she returned only moments later, carrying a glass of tea and a plate of cheese, crackers, carrot sticks and olives, with a couple of cookies on the side—just in case he decided he was a little hungry after all.
“Thanks.” Accepting the glass, he smiled wryly when she set the food in front of him, but after taking only a couple of sips of the tea, he stacked cheese on a cracker and popped it into his mouth.
She sat on the other end of the couch, ready to hop up and run for more food if he still looked hungry after finishing this light snack. “Rough day, huh?”
He shrugged. “Tougher than most. Had an emergency come in just as I was getting ready to leave for the day. Eight-year-old boy, both legs shattered in an ATV accident. He was too young to be riding the four-wheeler at all, of course, but at least he was wearing a helmet, which probably saved his life. We were in the O.R. for three hours. And that was after an already long day of procedures, one of which had complications that made it take longer than it should have.”
“So you’ve been on your feet all day?”
Crunching a carrot stick, he nodded. “I’m usually on my feet,” he said after swallowing. “This was just a longer day than most.”
“Let me get you some more tea.” She jumped up to fetch the pitcher because he seemed to be very thirsty. He’d already almost drained his glass.
Pushing the empty plate aside a few minutes later, he leaned back against the cushions again with a light sigh. “That was good. Thanks.”
“Can I get you anything else?”
“No, really. I had plenty, thank you.”
She turned on the couch to look at him. “The little boy who was hurt? Will he be okay?”
“He has a long recuperation ahead of him, but he’ll get there. Kids are pretty resilient.”
Not always, she thought with a ripple of sadness she didn’t want him to see.
But Mitch seemed to be getting better at reading her. He must have followed the direction her thoughts had taken. “Jacqui?” he asked after a pause. “Do you mind if I ask how you lost your sister?”
She felt her chest tighten but answered evenly. “In a car accident twelve years ago. The surgeons worked very hard to save her, but she died on the table.”
“Younger or older sister?”
“Younger.”
“I’m very sorry.”
She nodded. “It’s difficult for me to talk about it.”
“I won’t press you, then. Just know that if you ever need to talk, I’m a good listener.”
“Thank you.”
Sipping the last of his second glass of tea, he reached up with his free hand to squeeze the back of his neck. The gesture seemed to be automatic, as if he were hardly aware that he was even doing it.
Her awareness of the reason for his discomfort—a long operation on an injured eight-year-old boy—over-came her hesitation. “If your neck is stiff, I’d be happy to give you a quick massage. I’ve been told I’m pretty good at it.”
He dropped his hand, looking first surprised then intrigued by her offer. “My neck is a little sore.”
Because he was so much taller, she moved to stand behind him as he leaned back against the couch cushions. The back of the couch was low enough that she had full access to his neck and shoulders, especially when he lowered his chin a little. Focusing strictly on finding and alleviating the knots in his muscles, she tried without much success to ignore the warmth and strength of him beneath her palms, even through his thin-knit shirt. When she worked on his nape, his thick hair tickled her fingers, tempting her to
bury her hands in it.
A particularly stubborn knot just above his right shoulder blade required both her thumbs to work out. His low groan of pained pleasure signified the massage was working. The deep rumble vibrated through her, stirring something deep inside her. Her fingers tightened for a moment, causing him to flinch just a little. Murmuring an apology, she lightened her touch, carefully working the knotted muscle into relaxation.
After another few moments, she rested her hands on his shoulders. “Better?”
He reached up to lay his hands over hers, holding her in position. “Much better. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Twisting his neck, he smiled up at her, still holding her hands. “You were told correctly, by the way. You are very good at that.”
“Um, thanks.” She was held captive as much by his gaze as by his hands on hers. She found herself unable to look away from the expression in his darkening blue eyes.
His smile faded. “Jacqui.”
She would never know what impulse took hold of her then. Whatever it was, she leaned over before she could talk herself out of it and gave in to an urge she’d been trying to resist for the past ten minutes—oh, heck, for the past ten days.
She pressed her lips firmly against his.
Chapter Eight
Mitch was certainly quick. One minute she was standing behind the couch, leaning over to kiss him, the next she found herself tumbled into his lap, his arms around her, his lips moving avidly against hers. It was as if he’d just been biding his time until she made the first move and had been poised for an immediate response.
That fleeting brush of lips the night before had been merely a hint of what was to come, whetting her appetite and stirring her imagination. But this…this was so much more than she had even anticipated. There was no first-kiss awkwardness, no bumping of noses or fumbling of hands. He kissed her as though they had known each other—intimately—forever, his mouth fitting itself perfectly to hers, his tongue greeting hers as if he already knew exactly how she would taste and feel, his hands settling exactly in the right places to give her the maximum pleasure from his touch without making her uncomfortable by going too far.