Clear as Glass

by Lynn Kellan

  Her cell phone vibrated in her back pocket. “If you wait a moment, I’ll show you why.” Sure enough, the text was from her father. She let Mitch see the message.

  “Jayson, the meeting is rescheduled for tomorrow at noon. Get here early.”

  She swiped the message off her screen. “I’d put you to sleep if I talked about my family. We’re all about business, nothing else. Pretty boring stuff.”

  “Your Dad calls you Jayson?” Mitch murmured.

  The quiet disbelief in his deep voice produced an unexpected sting in the back of her throat. Every time she heard her father use her given name, she remembered her first failure—being born without a stem on the apple. Sometimes, she wished her father would just accept her as she was, but she never complained. She’d grown up in an intact family where food was always on the table and a roof sheltered her head. There were millions of people who’d give anything to have her name…and her problems.

  Jaye opened her phone’s browser to check the weather forecast. “Is snow coming tomorrow?”

  “Who knows? The forecasters are never right. This storm could dump at least twenty more inches on Sunday morning.” He leaned close. “I think you’d better stay put.”

  “I wish,” she murmured, loving how the gold hair on his forearm tickled her skin. She pointed to her screen. “According to this forecast, the snow trails off tonight. The roads should be fine by tomorrow.”

  “So, you’ve been working on weekends when you visit family?”

  She nodded. “Some people consider drafting marketing plans to be quality family time.”

  He chuckled, reaching over to rest a hand on her leg.

  The gesture was warm and loving, something Jaye rarely experienced in her ambitious, data-driven life. The soft stroke of Mitch’s thumb across her thigh melted her insides into gooey fondue. She tucked her hand around his bicep, loving the feel of his muscle in her palm.

  Mitch gave her knee a gentle squeeze. “Doesn’t get any better than this. Good food, a great football game, and you beside me. No place I’d rather be.”

  A smile burst out. He couldn’t have seduced her any better had he maneuvered her into a dark corner of the remote dining room and kissed her senseless.

  Phil rose from his chair and glanced at Mitch. “I’m getting another beer. Want more?”

  “No, thanks. I’m good with just one.”

  “I know. Thought I’d ask, anyway.” Phil’s gaze dropped to Mitch’s hand on Jaye’s leg. A frown puckered his forehead. “Wait a minute. Are you two…together?”

  “I’m working on it,” Mitch acknowledged.

  Freddie leaned forward to peer around Mitch’s shoulder, caught sight of Mitch’s hold on Jaye, and groaned. “Darn. I was going to ask Jaye to the movies.”

  “Don’t.” Mitch softened the command with a glower of good humor.

  The man at the far end of the couch said, “I hate to tell you this, boss, but every single glassblower has been working up the courage to ask out Jaye. Including me.”

  Jaye felt her jaw dropped open. She covered her mouth and muttered, “There must be some kind of mistake.”

  Mitch patted her leg. “No mistake, just good taste.”

  “I know what will help everyone feel better. How about some dessert?” Patti offered, shooting Jaye a playful look. “Cheesecake will take some of the pressure off you.”

  “Sounds great. I’ll collect the empty plates.” Jaye rose and felt Mitch’s gaze land on her, searching her expression like he wanted to know how she felt about his blatant claim. His willingness to admit he pursued her made her feel special—worth fighting for. On impulse, she brushed her fingers along his hard jaw and pressed a simple kiss of gratitude on his mouth.

  A deep red flush inched up the front of his thick neck. He leaned back against the cushions and grinned.

  “Whoa. Mitch is smiling. Been too long since I’ve seen him happy.” Phil pulled out his cell phone. “Hold on, Jaye. Let me take a picture.”

  “Good. Gives me an excuse to do this.” With an arm around her hips, Mitch pulled her into his lap.

  She laughed and embraced his big shoulders. After Phil snapped the picture, she kissed Mitch’s cheek and stood.

  Freddie tilted a mischievous grin her way. “Do I get a kiss, too? I’m his partner, after all.”

  “Why not?” She stepped over Mitch’s long legs and planted a friendly peck on the freckles scattered across Freddie’s cheekbone.

  Harry swallowed a mouthful of food and looked up at her with big hazel eyes. “Can I have one, too?”

  Jaye thought he looked like a hopeful little boy on Christmas morning. Undaunted by the red puckers of acne scarring his round face, she framed his jaw in her hands and kissed his forehead.

  He blinked like an owl and reached up to squeeze one of her hands. “Are all the girls from Richmond as sweet as you?”

  “Only to glassblowers.” She grinned and picked up the empty plates sitting on the coffee table.

  Harry looked at Freddie in open-mouthed astonishment. “Will she kiss us again?”

  “If we’re lucky,” Freddie responded.

  “Don’t get your hopes up, boys,” Mitch said. “She’s only here for two more weeks.”

  A few hours later, Jaye headed for the bar in the corner of Phil’s living room.

  “You look familiar,” a man said.

  Alarm sank a row of sharp teeth into her happiness. Jaye took a deep breath and reached for a glass. With purposeful calm, she poured some soda before risking a glance at the man beside her. He was tall, dark, and good-looking, with a dimple in his chin. She didn’t recognize him, but he was frowning like he knew she didn’t belong here. She tried to recall a time when they might have crossed paths, but came up blank. “I’m sorry. I don’t recognize you. Have we met before?”

  “I don’t think so, but I feel like I know you. Oh, wait a minute. I’ve seen you running.” His frown eased. “Every morning this week, I’ve passed you on my way to work. I live a few houses up the street. My name is Brad Drummond.”

  Her anonymity was still intact. A wave of relief ran through her. “I’m Jaye.”

  “I missed the beginning of the game. Is Penn State winning?”

  “Yes. The second half just started.”

  His gaze drifted to the neck of her print blouse, down to the leather belt cinched at her hips, and dipped to the faded denim clinging to her thighs before completing the journey up again. “Are you the new consultant for Blake Glassware?”

  Along the back of her neck, prickles crept—small as a spider’s feet and just as creepy. Why was this stranger so curious? “Yes, I work for Nick and Mitch.”

  “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you ever since Phil told me the factory’s new consultant was a runner. Is there any chance you’d tolerate a training partner? I promised a friend I’d do a half marathon with him, but I keep finding excuses not to work out.” He reached for a beer with a lopsided smile. “I’d stick to my training schedule if I could run with someone—running is less boring with a partner. In exchange for letting me tag along, I can show you a couple of trails with fantastic views.”

  “To tell you the truth, I’m staying off the trails until hunting season is over.”

  “Then we’ll stick to the roads.” He popped a pretzel into his mouth. “I know every single one between here and Syracuse.”

  The mention of her hometown sent a twinge of unease through her body. “Why Syracuse?”

  “I’ve been driving up there for the past month. My architecture firm won a bid to design a state-of-the-art computer lab for a firm up there.”

  Jaye’s tension skyrocketed. No wonder he thought she looked familiar. She had to get away from this man before he recognized her. Perhaps an animated discussion about raising whistle pigs would drive him away.

  “We’re adding a new wing to a computer software company, and the owner of the firm wants a cutting edge look. I love working with a client who isn’t af
raid of doing something different. After collaborating for just a couple of months, I can see why his company is so successful. The guy never stops working.” Brad studied her with a quizzical look. “In fact, you look like a younger version of his wife, who is very pretty by the way.”

  Heat exploded in the center of her chest as though he’d thrown molten glass down her blouse. Jaye plucked at her neckline and struggled to take a full breath. She wanted to be ordinary just a little while longer. With a shaky hand, she picked up her drink. “I think I’ll return to my seat. Nice meeting you.”

  “Are you running tomorrow?”

  “I’ll be away, visiting family.” For a piercing moment, she longed to be in her parents’ house now—away from curious eyes and prying questions.

  Brad speared a hand through his dark hair. “Could I have your cell phone number? I’ll give you a call on Monday.”

  “You can reach me at the factory.” Evasion was a tricky business. She had to be careful, or else he’d grow suspicious if she kept offering excuses to avoid him.

  He extracted his wallet and handed her a business card. “Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything. I know how lonely it feels when you’re new in town. I look forward to seeing you.”

  Jaye recognized the name of the architecture firm on the card. Her father mentioned the company when she saw him the previous weekend. The coincidence was too close for comfort. A tiny bead of sweat rolled between her breasts. She pocketed the business card as if she meant to keep it.

  Brad flashed a handsome smile. “Are you seeing anyone?”

  For Pete’s sake, couldn’t he see she wasn’t interested? Time to roll out the whistle pigs. “Did I happen to mention I’m in the market for a farm? Someplace with a few acres and low fences.” A warm hand settled on the small of her back and she jumped.

  “She’s seeing me.” Mitch leaned around her and took a bottle of water off the bar.

  “You?” Brad snarled and shook his head. “You don’t get along with consultants.”

  “I get along with this one.” He squeezed her waist.

  “How convenient,” Brad muttered.

  Jaye felt Mitch’s arm go rigid and looked over her shoulder. The vein along his temple bulged. Uh-oh.

  He braced his hand on the bar. “What do you mean by convenient?”

  A number of curious gazes turned toward the three of them. Jaye had to admit the mounting tension between Brad and Mitch was far more compelling than the football game. A scant four feet separated the men. She was right in the middle, close enough to feel the testosterone oozing off both of them. If she spent much time caught in this sea of male hormones, she’d grow a mustache.

  Brad lowered his voice. “The last I heard, you weren’t seeing anyone. Tara told me you were still alone.”

  A savage smile broke across Mitch’s face. “She’s wrong.”

  All thoughts of diverting the conversation vanished. Jaye wanted to find out why this Tara person cared whether or not Mitch was alone.

  “I just asked Jaye to go running with me.” Brad glanced at Mitch’s big arm and frowned. “Do you mind?”

  “Not my place to tell you or Jaye what to do.” Mitch spoke through gritted teeth.

  Brad’s eyebrows rose. The tense set of his shoulders eased and he guffawed. “I bet that wasn’t easy to say.”

  “The words were almost impossible to choke out.” A rough smile softened Mitch’s features.

  The tension defused and people started to chat again.

  Amused by Mitch’s blunt honesty, Jaye touched the warm hand curled around her waist.

  Mitch spread his fingers, lacing hers between his.

  Brad took a swig of his beer and lowered his voice. “Phil told me you’d be here this afternoon, so I had to stop by. Last week, I saw someone you know—Grace. Your fiancée.”

  “Ex-fiancée,” Mitch muttered.

  “Right. She was in Coudersport, visiting family. Turns out, she got married a year and a half ago. I happen to know her husband. He’s an architect with offices in New York, Philadelphia, and Miami. Big stuff.”

  Big stuff, huh? Jaye wondered if part of Mitch’s aversion to wealth was fueled by the knowledge his fiancée dumped him for a rich man. Curious about his reaction, Jaye checked his expression.

  He stared at the TV and shrugged. His thumb caressed her hand in a slow, steady rhythm.

  “They’re separated,” Brad divulged with an apologetic glance at Jaye. “She wanted me to tell you, Mitch. She said her parents would give you her number if you wanted to call.”

  “I’m not interested.” With a gentle pull, Mitch secured Jaye against his side.

  Cuddled beside him, Jaye felt warm…secure…wanted.

  Brad leaned one elbow on the bar and studied the label on his beer. “I just thought you should know she was asking for you. She wondered how you were and what you were doing. Couldn’t stop talking about you.”

  Jaye turned her body toward Mitch and patted his broad chest. “Sounds like your ex figured out a swollen bank account is a poor substitute for a good man.”

  His arm tightened around her waist and he glanced at Brad. “If you happen to see my ex again, tell her I’m very happy. And very taken.”

  “You only had one beer tonight, yet you asked me to drive.” Jaye glanced across the dim interior of the truck at Mitch, who gazed out the passenger side window. “You’re a very careful person.”

  “If I got a DUI, I’d let down a lot of people.” He stretched his arm along the back of the bench seat. “Plus, I need to be sober if something goes wrong with the furnace at the factory.”

  “Good point.” His willingness to shape his life for the good of the factory reminded her of her own situation. “Do you ever feel suffocated by the responsibility you owe to the factory?”

  “Not really. I love glassblowing and I’m lucky to work with friends, which makes a huge difference.” His hand curled around the back of her neck, his fingers gentle. “How ‘bout you? Do you feel suffocated by your family’s business?”

  “Lately, I feel like I can’t draw a breath. Happens more than I care to admit.” The confession came out easily, thanks to Mitch’s sweet caress. The tender graze of his thumb along the side of her neck made her feel like she was no longer alone.

  She pulled into his driveway and the truck’s headlights shone on a bright red Corvette parked beside her silver coupe. The sports car looked like it was ready to race hers—and win. Jaye slanted a worried look at Mitch. “Were you expecting someone?”

  “No, I wasn’t. Park along the edge of the driveway to give that car room to leave.”

  The sharpness in his voice left no question about how he felt about their visitor. Mitch wanted the intruder gone.

  The Corvette’s door opened to reveal a pair of long legs clad in tight denim. A striking woman with long red hair emerged.

  A sickening sense of déjà vu turned Jaye’s stomach. “Who is she?”

  Mitch stared at the unexpected guest. A stony enmity radiated from his eyes. “Tara.”

  Perspiration bloomed on the palms of Jaye’s hands. “Brad mentioned her, right? She’s the one keeping tabs on your bachelorhood.”

  “She’s unpredictable, so let me handle this.” Mitch opened his door and got out.

  Tara prowled toward the truck. High-heeled boots made her look six feet tall and all legs. Like an oversized praying mantis.

  Jaye felt like a hapless fruit fly—the main course on Tara’s menu.

  Mitch opened Jaye’s door and reached inside to press the remote clipped to the visor. The garage door opened slowly. He took Jaye’s hand and helped her out of the truck.

  A fresh inch of snow covered the driveway. Jaye glanced at the narrow boot prints denting the fluffy white stuff. Tara had been pacing up and down the driveway for some time, waiting. For what?

  The possessive glint in Tara’s kohl-lined green eyes said it all.

  Jaye balled her hands inside her mittens. Sudd
enly, she understood why Mitch insisted she tell him about David. Facing someone’s ex was daunting when you had no idea what might happen.

  “Brad called me after he saw you at Phil’s house. Is it true?” Tara flicked a half-smoked cigarette into the snow. “Are you with her?”

  Mitch stepped in front of Jaye, meeting Tara’s wrath with imposing calm. “Why are you here?”

  “Had to see for myself. All these years, I thought you were one of the good guys. Turns out, you’re just like the rest of them.” Tara leaned to peer at Jaye with a critical eye. “You’d better watch out, girlfriend. He hurt someone real bad a couple of years ago. You’re next.”

  “Back off, Tara,” Mitch growled.

  Tara jabbed her red-tipped finger into his shoulder. “Your new girlfriend should know that your fiancée never showed up at your wedding. Most girls would’ve gone through with the charade after getting the dress and paying for all the food, but not Grace. She was so mad, she asked her daddy to tell you she wasn’t showing up. What did you do to make her hate you so much?”

  Mitch’s big body tightened like Tara had just jammed one of her stiletto heels into the toe of his boot.

  Not wanting to be a part of this drama, Jaye walked toward the house.

  Tara grabbed her sleeve. “When I kissed Mitch on Wednesday night, I never heard him mention you.”

  Pain bashed Jaye in the diaphragm. She couldn’t breathe. With an awkward stumble, she jerked out of Tara’s clawing grasp and whirled toward Mitch. “Did you kiss Tara the same night you kissed me?”

  The muscles along Mitch’s jaw tightened. “She came on to me and I told her I wasn’t interested.”

  Uncertainty slithered into her chest. Could she believe him, or was he capable of pulling the same stunts as David?

  Mitch reached for her, his hand rock steady.

  Tara stepped between them. “I won’t let you make the same mistakes I’ve made, Mitch. You’re not thinking straight. Some girl comes out of nowhere, moves into your house, and suddenly you’re dating her. Who is she? What does she want? She could be after your money, your house, or your company. Have you thought of that?”