Clear as Glass

by Lynn Kellan

“Is he the one?” Mitch shot her a probing look. “He posted pictures on his website. They’re all of you.”

  Typical. David would use every megabyte of social media to link them together. At least one thing was certain—none of those pictures contained any evidence they dated. David was always careful not to touch her in public, in case someone better came along. She pointed her camera at Freddie, who gathered more molten glass on his pipe.

  Mitch guided the fresh lump of molten glass onto the base of his project and used a large pair of pliers to pull the glass, forming a stem. Smoke billowed into the air, scenting the studio like the smoking wick of a candle. He glanced at Jaye. “David wrote some interesting captions on those pictures. One of them says he’s sick. According to him, you’re the only one who can help him get better.”

  “So he says,” she scoffed, angered by ex-boyfriend’s never-ending quest to paint himself as the victim. With a fierce squeeze on the shutter release button, she photographed Mitch pressing a wood block against the hot glass to form the goblet’s flat base.

  Concentration ribbed the space between his eyebrows, entrancing her. His fluid movements made the art of glassblowing look deceptively easy. He switched tools and carved a design into the globe’s base while he spun the project, multi-tasking with ease. Even though this was the tenth glass Jaye watched him make, she had to work hard not to watch in open-mouthed awe. The muscled, broad planes of his body looked fierce enough to plow through any football team’s offensive line, yet this rugged man created delicate goblets worthy of gracing a queen’s table.

  He carried the project to a smaller furnace, inserting the glass into the oven to heat.

  Jaye twisted her lens to bring the bulge of his triceps into focus. The man had magnificent arms, loaded with muscle. She tilted the camera to ogle the handsome vee of his back as it narrowed to his trim backside. Her finger squeezed the trigger, capturing the sight of his taut ass in jeans before her conscious mind could discourage the impulsive act.

  He brought the project back to the workbench and cut a rim into the globe. Inspecting the glass with a discerning squint, he handed the finished piece to Freddie and approached Jaye. “What is David getting treatment for?”

  Her insides quivered like a cornered rabbit. She knew Mitch wouldn’t let her scamper away from his questions, but she hated talking about David’s bad choices like he suffered from some sort of a disease. “He is being treated for addiction.”

  A blond brow arched into a forehead beaded with sweat. “Alcohol?”

  “No.” Shame heated her cheeks.

  The curiosity on Mitch’s features grew more pronounced. “Then what?”

  She snapped the cap onto her camera’s lens. “Why do you want to know?”

  “Because knowing will explain a lot.”

  “You’re wrong.” She jabbed her finger into his hard chest. “Stay out of this.”

  His brows knit together, forming a deep furrow. “Are you saying you can surf the Internet for crap about me, but I can’t look for anything about you?”

  “There’s a big difference,” she fumed. “I wasn’t looking for details about your ex.”

  He leaned so close the blunt bridge of his nose bumped hers. “My ex isn’t some addict who is trying to track me down.”

  Jaye gasped and narrowed her gaze. “That’s a low blow.”

  “Don’t walk away. Talk to me, Jaye. Tell me what David might do if he finds you.”

  Her chin jutted upward. “I can take care of myself.”

  “I know you can, honey, but why not use me? I’m six feet, two hundred pounds, for cryin’ out loud. I’ll stop anyone who’s stupid enough to come after you.”

  Honey? The gruff affection in his voice made her brain crash. She frowned at him for a moment while her thoughts rebooted. Having trouble believing he’d protect her without demanding more information, Jaye shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need a personal bodyguard.”

  “How big is your ex?” Mitch leaned toward her. “Can you fight him off if he grabs you?”

  “I can outrun him.”

  “Are you sure?” Mitch captured her wrist in his hand. “He may be quicker than he looks.”

  “What are you trying to prove? Do I have to watch out for David? Or you?” She snapped out of his grip and walked across the studio, unnerved by their exchange. Unzipping her camera case with an angry yank, she dismantled her camera with less care than she usually devoted to the task.

  A glassblower sauntered toward her.

  Jaye tried to remember his name. Pete? No, Phil.

  He nodded toward the furnaces, where Mitch remained. “Don’t take a picture of him now. His scowl will break your lens.”

  She bit her bottom lip to ward off a smile.

  Phil tilted back his baseball cap and scratched his forehead. “Don’t worry. Mitch may look fierce when he’s frustrated, but he’s a reasonable guy. Need me to talk to him?”

  “No, thank you.” She let out a tired sigh. “He’s upset with me because I won’t tell him about my ex-boyfriend, but I don’t want him to get tangled up in my personal soap opera.”

  “An ex-boyfriend, huh? No wonder the vein is throbbing in Mitch’s temple.” Phil moved a couple of glassblowing tools out of Jaye’s way. “He likes to know what’s going on with the people he cares about. His concern about you is a compliment.”

  “You’re right.” After flicking her bangs out of her eyes, she zipped up the camera case. “He is the type who’d solve every employee’s problems.”

  “Your problems seem to interest him more than most.” Phil gestured to a hallway obscured by a large metal rack of shelves. “Have you ever been in his office?”

  “No.” Her hands stilled. “Why?”

  “Wander in there sometime. He makes some amazing stuff. If you get a chance to look, you might understand why he’s pressing you to trust him.” A shadow of sadness passed over Phil’s face. “Try to see the sculpture on his desk before he destroys the piece.”

  Jaye jammed her hands into her back pockets and thought of the glass sculptures he routinely threw away. “Why does he destroy his work?”

  “He’s terrified he’s got the soul of an artist.”

  “I don’t understand. Artists are special. Creative people possess an incredible gift.” She lowered her voice, not wanting anyone else to overhear their conversation—least of all, Mitch. “Why doesn’t he want anyone to think of him as an artist?”

  “Ever work with an artist? They’re temperamental, passionate, and prone to drop everything just to follow their heart.” Phil’s brown eyes grew somber. “Like his mother.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “My therapist asked if you were dating. I told him you wouldn’t start seeing someone when so many unresolved issues are between us…”

  Jaye deleted David’s text. As far as she was concerned, just one “issue” remained between them—a software project they’d collaborate on when she started working for Davis Software. After the project ended, she’d be free of his manipulations and lies. In the meantime, she needed to stop Mitch from digging into her personal life if she wanted to spend the rest of her time at Blake Glassware in peace.

  Problem was, she had no experience dealing with a man who took action when he sensed trouble.

  At a loss, she turned her attention to the pictures she’d downloaded to her computer. With the click of the mouse, a picture of Mitch sprang onto her monitor. A strong tingle shimmied up her spine, shepherding a smile onto her face. She’d captured him laughing at something his partner Freddie said. Smiling crinkled the corners of his eyes with good humor, providing a striking counterpoint to the hard planes of his arresting face. Her body ignited at the sight of him.

  “So, where do we go now?”

  The deep voice jarred her back to reality. She minimized the screen so Mitch wouldn’t know she was drooling over his picture. “Beg pardon?”

  “You’re mad at me for digging up stuff abo
ut your ex, and I’m frustrated you won’t talk to me about him. We’ve been fuming in our separate corners of the factory for hours…” He looked down at his watch in bemused irritation. “Nearly seven o’clock and everyone else has gone home. How ‘bout a truce?”

  A cease-fire sounded wonderful, but could they negotiate a treaty? She crinkled her nose. “Will you stop prying into my private life?”

  “No, but there’s something more pressing we need to address.” Mitch pointed to the inky black sky outside her window. “Tomorrow’s forecast calls for snow. Do you have a decent coat?”

  Jaye touched the blazer hanging on the back of her chair. “While I lived in Richmond, all I needed was this.”

  Mitch smirked. “That’s not a coat.”

  “It’s made of wool—warm enough for a stormy day. Besides, I grew up in Syracuse. I can tolerate the cold.” She opened up a new window on her laptop and navigated to the local weather. White snowflakes crowded tomorrow’s forecast. “This can’t be right. They say we might get a foot of snow.”

  “The storm is blowing in from the Great Lakes. Could end up with two feet or more.”

  As if on cue, her cell phone chirped with a text from her father. “At least ten inches of snow expected. Don’t drive up tomorrow. Will reschedule meeting.”

  Jaye put away her phone with a groan. “I don’t have any boots. I left them in Richmond.”

  “You need warm clothes, Jaye.”

  “Right.” She stared at her monitor, contemplating her options. “I’ll order a coat online and spring for express delivery.”

  “Won’t get here in time.” He nodded toward the parking lot. “There’s a store twenty minutes away. I’m going there right now to pick up some rock salt for the sidewalk. Come with me and I’ll buy you a real coat.”

  Jaye contemplated turning him down so she wouldn’t be subjected to more questions about David. “I don’t think….”

  The furrow deepened along his brow. “Don’t think. Just say yes.”

  With a start, she realized he was doing what he always did—taking care of the people who were a part of Blake Glassware. Even if they maddened him to distraction.

  No wonder everyone loved him so much.

  Her empty stomach voted to tag along if food was involved. “Can we have dinner first? If I don’t eat something soon, I may start nibbling my blazer.”

  “You’ll need something more substantial to fill up,” he countered with a wry grin. “There’s a decent deli nearby. I’ll get us some hoagies.”

  A vision of juicy beef sandwiched between soft rye bread sealed the deal. Jaye turned off her laptop and stood. “We’ll go Dutch.”

  “No way.” He spoke calmly, but firmly. “I’m buying you dinner. End of story.”

  She dug into the front pocket of her jeans, looking for her car key while she tried to figure out how to deal with this bullheaded, chivalrous man.

  “Ride with me in the truck. We’ll pick up your car on the way home.” He rubbed the center of his chest and grimaced.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Something like regret filtered into his expression. “An angry consultant jabbed her tiny finger into my chest.”

  She rolled her eyes. “My finger isn’t tiny.”

  “I’ve got a tiny bruise to prove it.”

  “Good. Maybe you’ll think twice about making me do something I don’t want to do.” She put on her blazer, grabbed her purse, and brushed past Mitch.

  “If you’ll talk to me, I’m willing to sustain a few bruises,” he muttered close behind her.

  Her shoulders stiffened. “I’ve told you all you need to know.”

  “You haven’t told me squat. All I know is you worked with David, he cheated on you, and he’s got some sort of addiction.” A sober determination burned in his blue eyes. “Given he threatened to call all your friends until he finds you, I want to know more.”

  “David isn’t coming after me. He’s making an empty threat.” She stormed ahead, noting how easily Mitch matched her brisk pace.

  “You’re making a lot of assumptions, Jaye. I prefer to operate with good old-fashioned facts.”

  She turned and pointed to the spot on his chest where she jabbed him a short while ago. “You’re the one making assumptions if you think I’m making assumptions, because anyone who knows me knows my assumptions about David are based on bitter experience.”

  The corner of Mitch’s mouth lifted. “You’re not making a lick of sense.”

  “Do you really want to argue now?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I fight dirty when I’m hungry.”

  He arched a brow and broke into a full-fledged grin. “How dirty?”

  “Remember the picture I found of you streaking across campus with your fraternity brothers? You’re not wearing a stitch of clothes.” Leaning forward, she lowered her voice to a menacing growl. “I wonder what Freddie and Phil would say if I forwarded the link to them?”

  His smile faded. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Don’t tempt me.” She stalked down the hall, savoring her victory.

  He caught up with her in the lobby. “You can’t see anything in that old picture.”

  “Oh, I saw plenty.”

  “Do you mean plenty, as in you could identify me in the picture?” He grabbed her elbow, his gaze glinting like glass. “Or plenty, as in you were impressed with the sheer size and magnitude of my…physique?”

  “Hmm. Let me think.” Jaye tapped her finger on her chin, having no trouble remembering the photo. Who could forget the sculpted shape of his strong torso? She wasn’t about to admit she couldn’t stop thinking about how good he looked naked—especially the fascinating shadow between his legs. “Let’s just say I was so impressed, I thought about using your picture for my screen saver.”

  Mitch let out a bark of laughter.

  She headed toward the lobby’s door leading to the parking lot.

  His boots pounded after her. “I never met anyone who fights like you do, Jaye.” His gaze bored into hers. “Are you having as much fun as I am?”

  “Did you just say you’re having fun?” She splayed her hands on her chest in mock surprise. “With a consultant?”

  He snatched his coat off a nearby chair and let out a groan. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m desperate to get you out of my factory so I can kiss you again.”

  “Wait a minute, this isn’t a date. I’m still mad at you for digging up my ex on the Internet.” She jabbed her thumb toward her car. “I’d be heading home right now if I didn’t need a coat.”

  He swept an arm toward his truck. “Looks like we have an interesting evening ahead, huh?”

  Jaye stopped in the middle of the parking lot to peer at the big, brightly lit store. A prickle of anxiety pushed the delicate hair along her arms against the thin sleeves of her blazer. “I hate shopping. Nothing ever fits. If I do stumble across something in my size, I rarely like how the clothes look on me. I usually buy stuff from my favorite online store, which is much easier than searching for a coat in a place that sells everything.”

  “Don’t worry.” He patted her back. “I’ll help.”

  She crinkled her nose at him. “Did you just say you’d help me find clothes?”

  “Have you forgotten I studied art?” He pulled the brim of his baseball cap down on his forehead and his smoldering gaze raked her from head to toe in blatant male appreciation. “I know what looks good.”

  Yowza. The man knew how to drop a compliment. She crossed her arms over her chest, shivering from his throaty words and the biting cold. “I’ve never had a personal shopper who possessed the brawn to keep overzealous bargain hunters out of the way.”

  “I’ll do my best to protect you from the rabid crowd in the shoe section.” His gaze dropped to admire her jeans. “The tough part will be finding a coat in a size six.”

  Her sneakers skidded on a patch of ice. “How did you know I’m a six?”

  “I’m an only child, remember? My mo
ther took me with her when she went to the mall. I know a slender, athletic woman like you is probably a six.” He strode beside her, close enough so his coat sleeve brushed hers. “When I earn the privilege of buying you lingerie, I’d guess you’re a thirty-six B.”

  Her face burned at the thought of him buying her sexy underwear. “Don’t say stuff like that, Mitch. Not now.”

  “Because we’re fighting?” He took her elbow, lowering his mouth to her ear. “Isn’t this the best time to remind you of the heat between us?”

  “Right now, the only heat I need comes from a coat.” Jaye walked into the store and came to an abrupt stop. The place was big as one of her father’s warehouses. Aisles lined the cavernous space like so many rows of corn, forming a maze she couldn’t decipher. “Oh, gosh. This place is huge. I’ll never find boots in here.”

  “The shoe department is this way.” Threading his fingers through hers, he led her past jewelry and cosmetics. His calloused thumb caressed the bridge of her knuckles.

  Warmth radiated into her cold irritation. How was she supposed to stay mad at him for prying into her private life if he kept caressing her hand like she was the most precious thing he’d touched all day?

  Somewhere near the back of the store, they stopped beside a rack containing a mind-boggling array of women’s sneakers. Jaye squinted down the aisle, unable to see past the twenty pairs of neon pink running shoes. Casting him a helpless look, she shrugged. “This is embarrassing to admit, but I don’t do well in department stores. Too many choices.”

  “Follow me.” Mitch had her sit on a small bench and made quick work of pulling out a pair of chocolate brown boots from the shelf.

  The boots were attractive yet sturdy enough to stomp through the snow. Better yet, a squishy soft fleece lined the insides. Jaye couldn’t believe they fit. “I feel like I’m standing on a warm cloud.” She wiggled her toes against the velvety lining. “How did you find these so fast?”

  A hint of red crept into the hollow under his blunt cheekbones.

  “This is embarrassing to admit, but I’m good at shopping for clothes.” He knelt, bracing her foot against his thigh. He unzipped the boots with two sure tugs and grinned. “Now I’ll find you a coat.”