Clear as Glass

by Lynn Kellan

  He picked her up, setting her on the kitchen counter. Opening her legs with a gentle nudge, he stood between her knees and kissed her, not letting up until she opened her mouth and let him inside.

  Unnerved by his ardor, she snatched her trembling hands off his chest. Two damp handprints remained on his red T-shirt. “I’m getting you wet.”

  One blond brow arched.

  Jaye felt her face turn a dark, crimson red. “Please don’t ask if you’re getting me wet.”

  “That’s not what I’m wondering.”

  She couldn’t quite believe it. The men she’d dated—all three of them—asked about the state of wetness between her legs. “I’m hesitant to discover what you’d rather ask.”

  “I’m not sure I want to hear the answer, but I’ll ask anyway.” He took one of her hands in his. “Are you shaking because you’re cold…or scared?”

  She blinked, temporarily mute.

  “If you’re cold, I’ll bump up the heat and build a fire.” Mitch placed her hand on his arm. “If you’re scared, don’t let go.”

  Curling her fingers around the thick curve of his biceps, she remembered the night they met. He’d strode toward her with the self-assurance of a man who possessed enough brawn to walk with confidence among the shifting shadows of the woods. “Does anything scare you?”

  “Yeah. It kills me when you pull away.” He looked into her eyes. “I won’t hurt you, Jaye. I want your trust more than anything else. You know that, right?”

  That was the second time in twenty-four hours he voiced a desire to earn her trust. He possessed extraordinary emotional depth, evidenced by his singular ability to sense her deepest fears.

  She brushed her lips against his in a kiss as soft as snowfall. “I’m shaking because I like you. A lot.”

  “I like you, too.” With his thumb, he tilted up her chin. “Why did you walk away during our argument?”

  “Things were getting personal. I didn’t want to say something I’d regret later.”

  The corners of his eyes narrowed. “Like calling me a pigheaded brute?”

  “Oh, no.” She gasped and cupped his face in apology. “You heard me.”

  “Good thing I did. Made me think twice about knocking down your door like a pigheaded brute.”

  She brushed her fingertips down his neck. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

  One shoulder lifted. “Maybe.”

  “I’m sorry.” Scooting to the edge of the counter, she laced her arms around him. “In my defense, you were acting a bit obstinate.”

  “Mmm.” The bridge of his nose nuzzled her cheek.

  “I’m not ready to talk about some things, no matter how much you press.” She nibbled the hard edge of his jaw.

  “If you keep kissing me, I won’t keep up my end of the conversation.”

  A secret thrill skittered down her back at the notion she could render this big glassblower speechless. She looped her leg around his hips to draw his lower half against hers. The hard ridge of his erection throbbed against the crotch of her jeans. “Should I stop?”

  “Hell, no.”

  Jaye chased the red flush moving up his neck with her mouth, half kissing, half licking until she got to his ear. “Want to talk about my contract now?”

  “What contract?”

  She watched the muscles along his jaw tighten and couldn’t believe there was a time she thought his short hair made him look forbidding. Without the baseball cap he often wore, she could see every inch of his magnificent face as desire and control flickered across his expression. If anyone ever thought raw masculinity couldn’t look beautiful, they’d never seen Mitch like he was now.

  Parting her mouth, she touched the tip of her tongue to the fullness of his bottom lip, kissing the place where his gruff five-o’clock shadow rimmed the silk of his mouth.

  He locked his arms around her hips. “I’m taking you someplace where we can lie down. Hold on.”

  With a happy yelp, she tightened her arms and legs around him. “Are we going to Paris? Rome?”

  “Too far.” He carried her into the living room and put her on the couch. “Lie down, pixie. I’m joining you as soon as I take off my boots.”

  Stretching out on the soft cushions, she tucked a pillow under her cheek. “This couch is too comfortable. I’m tempted to steal it.”

  “I’m tempted to steal you.” He lay beside her and initiated a deep kiss. A slow, sexy grin crossed his mouth. “Let’s wash dishes every night.”

  “Your dishwasher will appreciate the vacation.” She hitched her knee up over his hip to knit her legs with his. “I’m sorry I broke the handle.”

  “Only a matter of time before it fell apart. The whole kitchen needs to be redone.” He curled his hand around the curve of her butt. “One of these days, I’ll tear down the ugly wood paneling and make everything right.”

  Sadness fluttered in her chest at the thought she wouldn’t be around to see the renovation. “As far as I’m concerned, I like your kitchen just the way it is—homey and comfortable.”

  Taking advantage of his stillness, she trickled her fingertips along the bristle of his emerging whiskers.

  A faint smile touched his mouth and he closed his eyes.

  He looked like he enjoyed the attention, so she worked her way up to his forehead, smoothing away the residual line of tension between his bronze eyebrows. With gentle fingertips, she touched the small mole where the brim of his baseball hat normally rested. Her exploration moved to his short blond hair. The strands were no longer than a half-inch, shaved close to his skin near his ears. His hair was surprisingly soft, like crushed velvet stretched over the bones beneath his scalp.

  A ribbon of gooseflesh rose down his thick neck. He let out a deep sigh, sliding his hand under her T-shirt to caress the smooth curve of her back. “How many overprotective brothers do I need to worry about? Give me specifics, so I know what I’m up against if they discover how much I like touching you.”

  “I wish I had brothers, but there’s just me.”

  He leaned back a few inches and peered into her face. “You’re an only child, like me?”

  “Yep.”

  “Yet something else we have in common, along with football and family businesses. Not to mention the fact you’re as ticklish as I am.”

  “How do you know?”

  He tickled her ribs and she squealed, proving his point. Offering an apologetic smile, he stopped. “When I found you asleep on the couch the other night, I tickled your foot to wake you up.”

  She tried to look disapproving. “What else did you do while I was asleep?”

  His gaze dropped to the vee neck of her T-shirt. “I stared.”

  “Oh, gosh. I hope I didn’t snore.”

  “Like a lumberjack.” He gave her rump a light swat. “Don’t worry. I won’t complain about the snoring if you sleep with me.”

  “I doubt my father would approve.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Catching sight of Mitch’s scowl, she explained. “Dad only approves of computer engineers.”

  Mitch frown deepened. “What does your father do?”

  “He runs a tech firm.” A twist of anxiety soured her stomach. “Sure would be convenient if he had a son-in-law who could write code and possessed an M.B.A.” She tried to inject humor into the statement, but the words came out flat and lifeless.

  “What about you? What do you prefer? Someone who can focus all his energy on your father’s business?” He lowered his mouth to hers. “Or do you want someone who’s crazy about you?”

  She skewered her eyes shut. In the not-too-distant future, she would have to honor her obligations and ignore the quiet yearnings of her heart. Needing to escape the reality, she tilted up her mouth to receive Mitch’s searing kiss.

  He transformed the act into something wildly erotic, revealing the animal urges he’d kept hidden until now. When his sensual lips burned a path to the neckline of her T-shirt, she arched up in invitation. For t
he first time in her life, she was just a woman, nothing more. By some stroke of fortune, he made her eyes roll back into her head every time he touched her.

  When she felt his mouth near her décolletage, she pulled one of his hands up to her breast and whispered a throaty, “Please?”

  A huff came out of Mitch’s throat. “I’ll touch you anywhere you want.” His warm palm closed around her flesh. He brushed a kiss along her neckline. “You’re so damned gorgeous.”

  Excitement thrummed under her skin, contracting her nipple into a hard, throbbing pebble.

  Mitch’s thumb rubbed back and forth across the nub. “Want me to kiss you here?”

  “God, yes.” She pulled her T-shirt halfway up and stopped when cool air buffeted her abdomen. “On second thought, I won’t get undressed. This is kind-of our first date, after all.”

  “Whatever you say. I can adjust.” His leg slid between hers.

  His thick thigh pressed against the wild pulse drumming in her core. Breathing in short, agitated gulps, Jaye curled her hand around the back of his neck. “Hurry, Mitch. Oh…yes.”

  Through her thin T-shirt and simple cotton bra, his mouth found the stiff tip of her breast.

  Pleasure zipped through her body, tingling the back of her throat all the way down to the arches of her feet.

  Mitch shifted, kissing his way across her shirt. “I should pay attention to your other breast, too.”

  “Excellent idea. Oh, my. You’re really good at this.” She clamped her legs around his muscular thigh.

  With an ardent grunt, he gripped her ass to pull her up tight against the bulge of his erection.

  A provocative shiver tickled along her sex, the precursor to a deeper, more satisfying contraction if she let him keep touching her. She gave him a quick, hot kiss and scrambled off the couch. Staggering on wobbly legs, she smoothed her T-shirt with shaking hands. “I need to stop.”

  Mitch stumbled to his feet, wiping a hand down his face. “What?”

  “We have to work tomorrow. We should get some sleep.” Oh, how she wanted to throw herself back into his arms. Instead, she backed away and tossed out another worthless excuse. “I’ve got to get up early for a run.”

  He lifted a hand. “Whoa, wait a minute.”

  “I’m sorry.” She fluttered ten fingers in the air. “This isn’t fair. I’m giving you mixed messages.”

  “Yeah, you are.” He bumped into the coffee table.

  Jaye winced. “Are you okay?”

  “No. My knee hurts and I’m confused as hell.” He waved toward the couch. “What happened? Did I scare you?”

  “No. I scared myself.” She backed into the foyer. Only a few more steps to the hallway leading to her bedroom, to safety, but her feet stopped moving. With an admiring grin, she studied the breadth of his chest. “I really want to tear off your shirt.”

  The fierce set of his mouth softened. “I want to tear off your shirt, too.”

  She held up a hand like a traffic cop. “I’m not sure I can do this so soon after someone cheated on me. This sounds like a terrible cliché, but I’m having trouble trusting again.”

  “Makes sense.” He paused and rubbed his jaw. “I’ve had two years to recover from the betrayal. You’ve only had a few weeks.”

  Her runaway fears stilled, halted by the sympathy in his voice. Taking a tentative step toward him, she frowned. “Did someone cheat on you?”

  “Yeah. My fiancée slept with a guy the night before we were supposed to get married.” Mitch scratched the back of his head and shrugged. “Right before I walked to the altar, I spoke to her father, who told me the wedding was off.”

  Jaye gulped. “She didn’t tell you in person?”

  “No.” He stuffed both hands into his front pockets and shrugged. “She didn’t think I deserved an explanation. Looking back, I can see her point. We’d been fighting a lot. I hurt her more than I knew.”

  “What could you have possibly done to merit such a betrayal?”

  He swallowed, casting a glance toward the dark window. “I wouldn’t say I loved her.”

  For a sterile moment, Jaye thought of all the times she hadn’t said I love you. Was he afraid the sentiment wouldn’t be returned, like she was? “Why didn’t you tell her how you felt?”

  “Because too many people say those words one day and walk away the next. Actions speak louder than words.” He looked at her, his blue eyes searching. “Do you know what I mean?”

  Jaye thought of all the times David said I love you right before he sought another woman’s company. Pulling in a deep breath, she nodded. “Too many people say those words without acting like they love you. I’ve experienced the phenomenon.”

  “Something else we have in common.”

  “Problem is, you’ve had a chance to heal. I haven’t.” Splaying her hand across her chest, she felt the wet spot at the tip of her breast where Mitch’s mouth had been. A thrum vibrated through her body. What wonderful things would he do if she let him? Her gaze lowered to the impressive bulge behind his fly, but the rip above his knee reminded her that he was from a different world. “I don’t want to jerk you around while I figure things out.”

  “I’m willing to go through the rough patches. To be brutally honest, staying away from you hurts like hell.” He looked down at his feet and cleared his throat. “You mentioned wanting to take pictures while I worked in the studio. How about tomorrow?”

  Her mind spun, struggling to catch up with the conversation. “I thought you didn’t want me to distract your glassblowers.”

  “I’ve reconsidered. A little while ago, someone said she felt sorry for the consultants who ventured into my building. She accused me of not making their jobs easier, and she was right.” The tendons along his jaw tightened as his gaze met hers. “Come into the studio tomorrow to take pictures for the website. Like I told you before, I want to be the man you run to when you need help.”

  Mitch’s words made her heart burst. All these years, she assumed a man in a three-piece suit would cut through her defenses. She never expected a man in torn blue jeans to make her soul sing.

  She ran toward him, flinging herself against his chest.

  Big arms tightened around her. A low, rich chuckle tickled her ear.

  Something deep in her bones vibrated—a quake of pure elation, quite similar to the joy she felt each time she depressed the shutter on her camera to capture the perfect shot. Framing his jaw in her hands, she kissed his grin with one of her own. Breaking away, she padded to her bedroom.

  “Will you sleep in another black slip, pixie?”

  The husky way he said pixie made the nickname sound heart-wrenchingly intimate. His baritone contained the same heat generated by one of the factory’s furnaces, warming her insides. “I’m not sure what I’ll wear to bed. Seems a little warm tonight.” Struck by a surge of mischief, she peered around her doorframe at him. “Maybe I’ll just sleep in panties and a bra.”

  “Aw, hell. Wish you hadn’t said that.” He turned toward the kitchen. “If you get cold, come find me. My bedroom door will be open. Wide open.”

  She tightened her hand around the doorframe to resist the urge to follow him. “Mitch?”

  He stopped and looked over his shoulder.

  “Thanks for inviting me into the studio.” She smiled.

  “You’re welcome. Wear jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, okay? Sparks fly when we’re shaping the glass. I don’t want any to land on your skin.” His mouth broke into a slow grin. “Bras and panties are optional.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I’d rather not talk while I’m taking photographs.” Jaye broke into a sweat, but standing near a 2,400 degree furnace had little to do with the perspiration dripping down her back.

  “We’ve got a little time to kill before I shape the glass.” Mitch moved a few tools to a nearby workbench. “You used to work for Cruz Technologies, right? I went online and looked at their website. They still list your biography.”

 
; Damn. What else did he find? She untucked her black T-shirt to get more air to her skin. “Cruz Tech will remove me from their website soon.” They’d better.

  “Your bio said you played lacrosse for Dartmouth and graduated Phi Beta Kappa.” He dipped his chin. “Impressive.”

  A shiver of dread skidded down her spine. He’d begun to dig for answers. She didn’t know what she feared most—whether he’d uncover the shameful extent of David’s betrayal, or if Mitch would track down her father.

  She peered through the viewer of her Canon 5D camera, watching Freddie poke a steel pipe into the furnace’s fiery belly. He gathered a glowing mass on the pipe and blew into the opposite end to inflate the molten glass into the size of a grapefruit. The viscous orb glowed a warm orange color.

  With an efficient turn, Mitch took the pipe and placed it across the two metal arms on either side of his bench. Rolling the pipe back and forth with his left hand, Mitch dragged a metal tool across the malleable glass.

  “Cruz sent you out on a number of consulting jobs over the years,” he said, not looking up from his work.

  Perhaps providing some information would defuse Mitch’s curiosity. She watched him through her camera. “While I consulted for them, I wrote code for a number of big companies. Learned a lot.”

  He fell silent, using a pair of oversized tweezers to smooth the surface of the glass.

  She snapped photographs, trying to capture the quiet concentration on his face. The glow from the furnace painted the blunt plane of his cheek in firelight.

  He nodded at Freddie and poured his piercing gaze into her lens. “A couple of years ago, you took a consulting job in Richmond. You started working with David Butler.”

  She dropped her camera. The strap around her neck swung the Canon into her gut, knocking a whoosh of breath out of her. Jaye pretended to adjust the camera settings, struggling to look unconcerned.