Clear as Glass

by Lynn Kellan

  His gaze jerked to hers. “What did you say?”

  “You were willing to let an unfamiliar guy stay for a month.” She opened her hands and shrugged. “Why not me?”

  Mitch looked at the remarkable creature standing in his kitchen and wondered if he’d heard right. She wanted to stay?

  Her chocolate brown gaze brushed down his chest, darted to his abdomen, and skidded to a stop on his belt buckle. A crimson stain crept into the pretty hollows of her cheeks.

  Mitch couldn’t remember the last time a woman blushed around him. His voice blasted like gunfire out of his throat. “You can’t stay.”

  “Why not?”

  Her wide eyes looked as big as the hole in his heart. He gripped the back of a chair, knocked off balance by the undeniable surge of attraction clenching his insides. “I was willing to room with a guy. Not you.”

  “Because I’m a woman?”

  “Right. This is the last place you should be.” Lord, the luscious curve of her bottom lip would test a monk’s virtue.

  Jaye crossed her arms and studied him like she was deciding which of his weaknesses to pick apart first.

  Mitch felt like he was watching a bunny getting ready to bite a grizzly bear. He pressed the heel of a hand against his forehead to fight off a headache. She belonged in a swanky metropolitan hotel—not a half-renovated bachelor pad full of mismatched furniture. Cripes, her shoes probably cost more than his ancient kitchen table.

  A slender finger tapped her delicate chin. “I don’t see any reason why I can’t stay.”

  Mitch snorted. This woman had no idea how much she turned him on. With a Herculean effort, he managed not to drool at her magnificent legs. “Trust me. You’re better off someplace else.”

  “But I like it here. Don’t worry, I’ll stay out of your way. On weekends, you’ll have the place to yourself because I’ll be visiting family in Syracuse.” Two eyebrows rose beneath side-swept bangs. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

  “Impossible. I’ve been living by myself for years. I’ll know you’re here.” He couldn’t miss her. She was his type of woman—slender and athletic with a killer smile. Worse, her short chestnut hair did nothing to hide her pretty face and framed the most incredible pair of brown eyes he’d ever seen. Every time he met her gaze, Mitch’s brain dove to his groin. If her personality matched her good looks, he’d be in serious trouble. Better to put her miles away, not a few feet down his hallway. “I’ll find you another place to live.”

  She covered her mouth, hiding a yawn. “Could I stay here tonight? It’s a little too late to nose around for an empty bed.” Her hands lowered, bumping against her thighs with a soft thump. “I know this is a huge imposition, but I’ve been in my car all day and I’m beat.”

  He would’ve held his ground if she screamed and yelled, but her simple honesty got to him. Shifting his gaze, he glanced out the kitchen window at the smooth silver hood of her coupe. The expensive model looked as out of place as a Ferrari parked beside a tent. “You’ve got Virginia plates on your car,” he observed. “Did you drive up from there?”

  “Yes, from Richmond.”

  “That’s a ten-hour drive.”

  She nodded and clasped her hands in front of her.

  The woman standing in the middle of his kitchen looked like a little lost pixie. Any sane person would say she couldn’t hurt a bear like him, but Mitch knew better. Jaye Davis wasn’t like any other woman he’d encountered in months. Heck, make that years.

  The instant he spotted her stranded on the side of the road, he knew she was special. Unlike most of the city girls he’d met, this one had the gumption to change her flat tire. She would’ve succeeded if she’d been strong enough to loosen the last two lugs.

  Even though she had little reason to find anything funny about being stranded, she’d laughed when he joked about fighting off bears with her flashlight. He was lost the moment her laughter spilled into the cold, dead air.

  For a magic moment, he thought she might hug him in gratitude—not for changing the tire, but for making her smile. The memory socked him in the gut. He’d do anything to make her smile again. “You can stay tonight. The extra bedroom is at the far end of the house.”

  Her lips broadened into a grin. “Thank you. I’ll just bring in a couple of things from the car that shouldn’t stay out in the cold.”

  “Fine.” Mitch hit redial on his phone. This time, his father picked up on the second ring.

  “Hey, son. Tell Jayson to meet me in the office tomorrow at nine.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Seeking privacy, Mitch left the kitchen. He entered his bedroom and eased the door shut. “We’ve got a problem, Dad. Jayson is a woman.”

  “That’s weird. He sounded like a man in his email.”

  “Her email, you mean. She goes by Jaye, not Jayson.” Mitch stopped at his window, squinting at the horizon. The bumpy spine of the Appalachian Mountains blocked the lower portion of the starry sky, just the way Mitch liked. The more he could close off this valley, the better. “I was willing to let a guy live in my spare bedroom. Not her.”

  His father chuckled. “How cute is she?”

  Mitch’s gut tightened, but he refused to admit Jaye knocked the air out of him every time he looked at her. “I just want to be alone.”

  “Right. Everyone knows not to set foot in your house.”

  Mitch gritted his teeth. “Does your wife know anyone who needs a roommate?”

  “All of Elise’s friends are married with kids. None of them have extra bedrooms.” Irritation bled into Nick’s voice. “One of the single girls in town might share a room with Jaye, but you’ll have to strike up a conversation in order to find out.”

  Mitch’s headache sharpened. He’d gotten so used to avoiding women, the prospect of calling one sounded as appealing as oral surgery.

  He slumped onto the edge of his bed and thought about how quiet his life was an hour ago. “Send Jaye home. We don’t need an online store. We need to expand our product lines.”

  “Hold on. Elise wants to tell me something.” Low murmurs produced a chuckle. “Elise wants to get pregnant. She’s ovulating, so I’d better get to work.”

  The line went dead.

  Mitch tossed the phone onto the mattress and held his head in his hands. Hearing his father talk about sex always made him wince, but the sting felt particularly deep tonight. Rather than come up with a solution for Mitch’s problem, Dad cut off the conversation to screw around with his wife. No big surprise. Every time Mitch talked about the factory, his father found an excuse not to listen.

  Hiring Jaye to sell their stemware meant Blake Glassware wasn’t changing. Mitch felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He and his men were capable of making so much more than goblets and wine glasses.

  He didn’t know what was worse—this powerlessness at work, or the knowledge his empty home was being invaded by a doe-eyed stranger whose sole purpose was to make his job more tedious.

  Rubbing a hand across the thick prickle of hair on his head, Mitch muttered a curse. Every consultant who walked into the factory wreaked havoc—screwing up the inventory, offering useless advice about productivity, butchering the shipping department. The worst misdeed of all occurred when one consultant convinced Mitch’s mother to walk away, leaving the family and the business in tatters.

  What destruction would Jaye Davis leave in her wake?

  The sound of her heels striking the linoleum floor made Mitch’s stomach shrink to a hard, tight knot. Somehow, he’d have to stop her from destroying everything he’d fixed over the past ten years. Swallowing a groan, he walked to the kitchen.

  She stood near the beat-up table with a suitcase at her feet, a computer briefcase in one hand, and a camera bag slung over her shoulder. With her short dark hair mussed by the wind and the tip of her nose a bright pink, she didn’t look like someone about to condemn him to long days of drudgery. Instead, she looked like someone who’d breathe life into his hollow existence.<
br />
  Happiness was the last thing he wanted.

  With an abrupt swing of his arm, he pointed toward the living room. “Go through here and take the hallway to the other end of the house. The extra bedroom is the first door on your left. Clean sheets are in the closet.”

  “Okay. Thank you.” She extended the handle on her wheeled suitcase and walked past.

  Unable to resist any longer, he let his gaze caress the firm shape of her calf muscles. His mouth watered. Damn, he never should’ve looked. He strode to the back door, twisting the lock with a flick of his hand. “I go to work at five in the morning. I’ll come back at eight-thirty to bring you to the factory. You shouldn’t drive in these mountains until you replace your spare with a standard tire.”

  She paused where the linoleum ended and carpet began. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. Thanks.” Lifting two fingers in an awkward wave, she hitched her camera case higher on her shoulder. “Have a good night.”

  The faint squeak of the wheeled suitcase faded away.

  Mitch grabbed a leftover hoagie from the fridge, turned off the lights, and returned to the questionable sanctuary of his dark, lonely bedroom.

  For the first time since he moved into his house, he allowed a beautiful stranger inside. For the hundredth time in his adult life, he wondered what the heck his father had gotten him into now.

  Chapter Three

  Could a steering wheel crack under the force of someone’s grip? Jaye would find out in the next five seconds. If Mitch clenched his hands any tighter, he’d shatter the pickup truck’s steering wheel.

  She tucked a short tendril of hair behind her ear. “Have you thought of a way to fire me yet?”

  The tendons along his forearm twitched. “I’ll fire you if you tell me to streamline my workforce, or whatever you experts call it these days.”

  Ouch. He wasn’t in a good mood. Jaye settled the briefcase in her lap and folded her hands on top of the smooth brown leather. “Why would I suggest reducing your personnel?”

  “Because every consultant has the same idiotic idea when they walk into my factory.” Hunching his shoulders, he glared at the road. “I’m not firing any of my employees.”

  His bullish mood matched his bullish constitution, evidenced by the fact he wasn’t wearing a coat despite the cold October air. No goose bumps marred the burly arms protruding from his red T-shirt, whereas Jaye couldn’t stop shivering under her blazer.

  Perhaps pestering a glassblower would get her blood pounding. If she poked hard enough, she might get past Mitch’s hard shell. That being said, she rather liked his shell. The light of day fell upon his concrete jaw, leaving no doubt he could sustain any punch thrown his way. He’d shaved off his blond whiskers, revealing the smooth planes of his cheeks. He was an intriguing combination of blunt angles and brawn. If she measured the circumference of his biceps and chest, she had no doubt Mitch would be twice her size. How would a big guy like him react to a little ribbing?

  She tapped her briefcase. “Do you warn every consultant to keep away from your employees?”

  “Yep.”

  “Since we’re on the topic, how many employees do you have?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” He stopped at an intersection, keeping his gaze on the road. “I won’t fire a single one.”

  “Even if they’re lazy? Ill-tempered? Prone to drop glassware?”

  “My men don’t have those problems.” He stepped on the gas.

  Gravel pinged against the pickup’s underside. They crested a hill, accelerating toward a sprawling meadow tinted gold by the sunrise. An attractive two-story brick building stood in the middle of the property. A row of shiny glass windows belted the exterior walls. A contemporary metal sign hung above the modern entry.

  Blake Glassware.

  He turned into the parking lot, zoomed into a space, and slammed on the brakes.

  Jaye’s briefcase hit the dashboard with a loud thump. Anger leapt into her throat. “You refuse to fire your employees, yet you were ready to fire me before we met. Seems a bit hypocritical.”

  “There’s a difference between you and my employees. I hired most of the people working at Blake Glassware.” Mitch cut the engine with a twist of his wrist. “I had no say in hiring you.”

  “How many consultants have visited?”

  “We’ve had efficiency consultants, marketing consultants, storage consultants—you name it. I never agree with anything they have to say. They cause mayhem and cost a helluva lot of money.” He pulled the brim of his baseball cap farther down his forehead and yanked the keys out of the ignition. “A productivity consultant stopped by a few months ago, but he didn’t stay long. Apparently, I made him uncomfortable.”

  “Go figure.” Jaye got out of the truck, smoothed her navy skirt, and fell into step beside Mitch. “This is the last chance to clarify your expectations before I step into your factory.”

  “I expect you to stay out of my way.” He opened the etched door for her. “I don’t take business advice from anyone who doesn’t know a thing about glassblowing.”

  “Fantastic.” She walked into the lobby and stopped near an inviting grouping of upholstered chairs. The large room looked like an exclusive art gallery. Colorful abstract paintings hung on the brick walls. Gleaming ductwork crisscrossed the vaulted ceiling in a perfect display of industrial chic. Well-lit shelving displayed various styles of stemware. The glass sparkled like it was dipped in diamonds. Very impressive.

  The only thing marring the ambiance was a low-pitched roar. Jaye crinkled her nose at Mitch. “Do you have a fire-breathing dragon hidden in your factory?”

  He glanced at the door toward the back of the lobby and rubbed the back of his neck. “We keep the dragon in the studio. He eats consultants for breakfast. I can’t introduce you, yet.” He jabbed a thumb toward a carpeted hallway. “My father wants to meet you first.”

  “Does your father feed the dragon?”

  “No.” He bracketed his hands on lean hips. “Taking care of the dragon is my job.”

  Jaye gave a respectful nod. “I’ll remember that.”

  Beneath the dark brim of his hat, blue eyes searched hers. “If you do, you’ll be the first consultant who paid attention to anything I said.”

  “Count on it.” She headed toward the corridor. Mitch’s work boots thudded behind her, and she imagined his gaze drilling between her shoulder blades. The center of her back burned. Stopping at a door adorned with Nick Blake’s name, she raised her hand to knock.

  “Hold on. I’ve got this.” Mitch reached around her.

  His arm brushed hers and the brief contact ignited a ribbon of goose bumps under her blouse. She stepped back, landed on his foot, and stumbled.

  “Whoa.” He gripped her waist, steadying her.

  Heat burst into her face. “Did I hurt your foot?”

  “No. You okay?”

  “Yes, but sometimes I can be a bit klutzy.” She looked over her shoulder and met his gaze. “I’m so sorry.”

  The door swung open, revealing a less bulky version of Mitch, with dark hair and a ready smile. “You must be Jaye. I’m Nick Blake.”

  “Uh, yes. Hello.” She shook his hand, aware of Mitch’s touch drifting off her waist.

  “I’m sorry about the confusion over your living arrangements.” Nick waved her into his office. “When I asked Mitch to put you up, I never thought to ask if you were a woman. Rest assured, there’s no confusion about where you’ll work. Your office is right across the hall.” The corners of Nick’s eyes crinkled. “I can’t wait to see your design for our website. As soon as we’re online, our company will reach customers all over the world.”

  Mitch approached his father. “Before we conquer the Internet, I’d like a word with you.”

  The sober pronouncement doused Nick’s smile like a wet blanket thrown over a cheerful campfire. “I can’t talk now. I’ve got to get the boys to their dental appointment.”

  Mitch pointed to a red folder in Nick’s
inbox. “Have you read my report yet? There are a number of things to consider before we develop a virtual marketing plan.”

  Nick didn’t meet his son’s gaze. “I’ve considered everything.”

  “Right.” Mitch took off his hat and pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead.

  With a jolt, Jaye realized his gruffness might’ve been spurred by the anticipation of this confrontation with his father.

  Nick sought Jaye’s gaze. “I’ll take you out to lunch. We’ll talk then.”

  “Sure.” She placed her briefcase on the floor, directly in the path of Nick’s escape route. “Can Mitch join us? I’d like to hear his perspective, too. He’s your partner, after all.”

  Her request had an interesting effect. Nick’s mouth hung open and Mitch’s gaze jerked to her. She smoothed her expression, calm as the sphinx in a raging dust storm.

  Nick scowled at his son. “Are you on target to reach quota for this month?”

  Mitch set the baseball cap back on his head. “Not yet.”

  “Then we’ll catch you another day when the studio can afford to miss you.” Nick slid his arms into the sleeves of his coat. “Sorry, Jaye. We’ve got to manufacture enough pieces to meet our orders, and Mitch needs to be in the studio to reach those goals.”

  Something was going on between these two men that had nothing to do with quotas. Jaye cleared her throat. “I doubt Blake Glassware will fall to pieces if Mitch takes an hour off for lunch.”

  Mitch folded his substantial arms over his chest and glared at the unread report in his father’s inbox. “Count me out. I’d rather work over lunch.”

  “See you at noon, Jaye.” Nick walked out of the office without acknowledging his son.

  The snub was a bad sign. The rift between father and son was wide. She shot a curious gaze at Mitch. “Would you give me a tour of the factory? Along the way, you can tell me what direction you’d like Blake Glassware to take in the next few years.”