Clear as Glass

by Lynn Kellan

  “Mitch?” Jaye peered down the hallway toward his dark bedroom. A thin moonbeam trickled across his bed, catching on the rumpled covers.

  He wouldn’t be working on a Sunday night, would he?

  She strode through the living room and found no sign of him. Heading into the empty dining room, she gazed out the glass door leading to the deck. Bright outdoor lights lit the back yard. Someone had shoveled a path across the snowy deck. Beyond the wood partition blocking the hot tub, steam wafted into the air.

  Jaye jogged into her room. Luckily, she’d packed a bikini when she thought she’d be living in a hotel with a pool. Living in a glassblower’s home with a hot tub was much, much better.

  After changing into her swimsuit, she wrapped up in a towel and walked into the night air. Anticipation blazed across her skin, warding off goose bumps. Her flip-flops crunched softly along the cleared path of snow leading toward the partition. Peering around the solid cedar wall, she spotted Mitch seated in a large hot tub.

  A fierce roil of white bubbles foamed around his broad shoulders. Blue light from the underwater lamps threw cool shadows on the clean-shaven planes of his face. His eyes were closed, the curve of his bronze lashes rimming a faint smudge of fatigue under his eyes.

  She couldn’t wait to loop her arms around his strong neck and kiss him.

  His heavily muscled arm lifted out of the water, turning a dial to quiet the water jets.

  The ten hours she’d spent away from him felt like ten lonely decades. Just the sight of him made her heart pound with elation. “Can I soak, too?”

  Blue eyes opened. His gaze zipped to her.

  She hung her towel on a hook beside his, pulled herself onto the edge of the tub, and slid into the warm, foamy water.

  He half stood, frowned at her blue bikini top, and then lowered himself into the water. An unforgiving sneer tilted his mouth. “When were you going to tell me who you really are?”

  Despite the warm water swirling around her, she shivered. “You already know who I am.”

  “I’m tired of being lied to, so stop playing games. Simon Davis is your father.”

  The revelation she was a software magnate’s daughter hurled thick tension into the air, dimming the night sky’s starry glow. “How did you find out?”

  “Brad figured it out. His architecture firm is designing an addition for your company headquarters. He told me you look a lot like your mother.” The corner of Mitch’s mouth twitched. “Judging by the picture I saw, I’d have to agree.”

  Dread tumbled into her stomach, bubbling hotter than boiling water. Her secret was out. Now everything would change.

  Jaye moved her gaze away from the angry accusation in his eyes. Letting her bangs fall over one eye, she stared into the back yard. Near the edge of the forest, a large black shadow shifted. The dark blotch reminded her of how the ugly truth always snuck into the open. She longed to take her camera, flee into the countryside, and shift her focus to the beautiful reality behind her lens.

  The shadow emerged from the woods, a shuffling blotch against the white snow. Jaye squinted and sucked in a lungful of chlorinated air. The shadow lumbering toward them looked like a bear. A very big black bear.

  Jaye stood, flinging water across the tub. “I’m going inside.”

  “Not so fast.” Mitch rose, pushing the droplets off his face with an abrupt swipe.

  She pointed past the ridge of his shoulder, her hand remarkably steady despite the approaching menace. “Look.”

  “Don’t change the subject, Jaye.” He jammed his hands on his hips. “You owe me an explanation.”

  The bear lifted its big head, sniffing the air. Jaye imagined his sensitive nose picking up the delectable scent of a poached consultant. “Turn around, Mitch.”

  His eyes darted to her breasts and back again. “Don’t worry. There’s nothing here I haven’t seen before.”

  “I beg to differ.” She’d have to turn the bullheaded man or he’d never look, so she grabbed his waist.

  He jerked and fell into the water, throwing a huge flume into her face.

  Jaye swallowed a mouthful of hot water. Chlorine burned down her throat.

  Mitch resurfaced, pulling himself into one of the tub’s seats.

  A hard shin swiped her feet off the slippery floor and Jaye fell face first into his chest.

  He spit out water and bellowed, “Why the hell did you tickle me?”

  “I wasn’t tickling you. I was trying to show you what’s coming right at us!” Sprawled on top of him, she curled her fingers around Mitch’s granite jaw and turned his face toward the approaching shadow.

  Mitch’s ribcage expanded beneath her chest. “Damn, he’s close.”

  The bear paused mid-way into the back yard, its breath coming out in streams of steam like a black fire-breathing dragon. His muzzle turned toward the deck and a stream of iridescent spit dripped from his mouth.

  Jaye grabbed the edge of the hot tub and pulled her torso off Mitch.

  Two wet palms latched around her waist. “What are you doing?”

  Jaye tried to wriggle out of his grip, careful to keep her tone low so the bubbling water might mask her voice. “I can beat him to the house.”

  “No, you can’t. He’s faster than you, city girl.” Mitch pulled her away from the edge with an easy swing of his body.

  “Let go!” She pushed his hands off her, lowering her bikini bottoms halfway down her hips by mistake.

  Big hands clamped under her armpits, lifted her, and plunked her into his lap so she straddled his thighs.

  Jaye glowered at the vein bulging in his temple and hastily tugged her bikini back into place.

  The bear’s round ears angled toward the house.

  Mitch manacled an arm around her waist and whispered. “I saw this guy last winter. He’ll back off.”

  “He looks hungry.” Jaye’s heart squeezed into her throat. She gripped the heavy cord of muscle running along Mitch’s shoulders and watched the animal’s nose twitch. “I think he smells a hot vat of people soup.”

  “Bears don’t eat people.” Mitch’s tone was calm. “Once he figures out we don’t have any food, he’ll leave.”

  “What if he doesn’t?”

  With a narrowed gaze, Mitch sized-up the animal. “I’ll get out and distract him while you walk into the house.”

  The bear swung its head toward them.

  Jaye curled her hand around the back of Mitch’s neck, terrified he’d get out of the water in some misguided, heroic attempt to save her.

  Under the swirling water, he splayed his palm against her back to draw her close.

  She let him press her chest to his. Against her ribcage, she felt his heartbeat pound. The rhythm was steady and strong, like he’d do anything to protect his factory, his home, his woman.

  They watched in silence, waiting.

  The bear huffed, turned, and galloped into the forest.

  “He’s leaving.” The rigid tension along Mitch’s neck loosened.

  Jaye let out a breath and stood but her feet slid, sending her skidding along the slick fabric of Mitch’s swim trunks until her crotch thudded against his. A full-blown erection nestled between the vee of her legs.

  He muttered an oath and gripped her hips.

  “Do hungry bears turn you on?” she sputtered, aware of her own nipples hardening into two rigid points under the thin layer of her wet bikini top.

  A red blush flamed up his neck. “You were clinging to me, practically naked. How do you expect me to react?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I thought you were distracted by the bear standing twenty feet away.” She took one look at the steely blue-eyed gaze drilling into hers and kissed him, hard.

  His tongue mated with hers and he took her rump in both hands, pressing her soft center against his hard sex.

  Out of her mind with want, Jaye caressed his short hair and flattened her breasts against his chest. Dragging away her mouth for a quick breath, she murmured, “
I need this.”

  He let out a strangled laugh. “You don’t need anything, thanks to a gigantic trust fund that would make an oil tycoon envious.”

  She pushed away. “Can’t you get your head out of my wallet?”

  “Kind of difficult to do when your wallet is the size of Manhattan, but I can think of something else to talk about.” A snarl curled his upper lip. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re running back to David?”

  An invisible fist squeezed her throat, reducing her breath to a thin, wavering trickle. “I’m not running to David.”

  “Don’t lie to me, dammit. In ten days, you’ll collaborate with him even though he treated you like crap. Your actions don’t make sense.” Mitch leaned over her with slitted eyes. “Or did you lie to me about what happened between you and David, too?”

  Grief arced through her. “I didn’t lie about anything.”

  “Bullshit.” He shoved back against the tub’s wall, sending large ripples across the water’s surface. “I’d hoped you’d forget about David. Hell, I even thought you’d change your mind about setting up a marketing plan that would condemn me to years of making the same thing, day in and day out. What a joke.”

  “But I changed—”

  “Just tell me where you’ll be a few months from now in case I want to bitch about the fact I’m sick and tired of making stemware.” Mitch rubbed his forehead and let out a bitter laugh. “Assuming you consultants care about what you’ve done to your clients.”

  There was that word again—consultant. Whenever he was angry, he tossed that word around like a vile curse. Jaye bit her bottom lip and had a sudden epiphany. “Your mother left with a consultant, didn’t she?”

  “He was a damn fine one, too. Reorganized our shipping department and updated our database in four short weeks.” Resentment hardened the muscles along Mitch’s jaw into stone. “My mother left the same day he did.”

  “That’s why you hate consultants. You blame them for tearing everything apart.” Jaye backpedaled until her shoulder blades bumped against the tub’s hard plastic wall.

  Mitch lowered his head and shot a tortured look across the bubbling water. “You’re not far enough. I can still reach you.”

  She lifted her chin. “But you won’t, because you think I’m no better than the man who broke up your parent’s marriage.”

  “You’re just like him. A self-serving, manipulative liar.”

  That ugly word made her throat tighten so hard, she could only breathe in short, shallow pants. Mitchell Blake was imposing under normal circumstances, but fury made him downright scary—the muscles bulged along his upper arms and the veins stood out along his flushed neck. Jaye opened her hands, but the water cloaked them from view. “Please, Mitch. Let me explain.”

  “Don’t bother. I won’t believe a fucking word you say.”

  Hot anger blasted out of her anguish, opening her throat with a sudden surge of adrenaline. “Is this how you reacted when your mother left? Did you stand on your almighty principles and condemn her, too? I bet you treated your fiancée the same way.” Jaye clamored out of the hot tub and landed on the deck. “Your self-righteousness is more dangerous than that bear.”

  “My self-righteousness is justified.” He pointed a finger in her direction. “You lied. I didn’t.”

  “Clearly, I owe you an apology. I’m sorry, Mitch. I didn’t tell you how much money I have.” Not caring that she stood barefoot in cold snow, she spread her arms wide. “Are you happy now? You’ve been looking for an excuse not to trust me, and you finally found it.”

  He slapped his hands on the edge of the tub and stood. “Let me guess. You’re walking out in the middle of an argument. Again.”

  “Bingo. Enjoy the solitude. Forgive me for not showing you my investment portfolio before our first kiss. Call me crazy, but I don’t like to financially undress until I get to know a guy.” She ripped her towel off the hook, leaving behind a clump of white thread wiggling in the cold air. “You did a great job of convicting me before you ever heard my testimony. If you ever get tired of blowing glass, you should become a prosecutor.”

  His hands fisted against the tub’s plastic rim. “While we’re trading advice, let me do you a favor and state the obvious. You believe every man will break your heart because one man did.”

  “Three men stepped on my heart, but who’s counting?” First her father, then David, and now Mitch. When would she find a man willing to drop his own agenda for a few moments to listen to her?

  She crossed the deck toward the house, stormed inside, and locked herself in her room. Stripping out of her wet bathing suit, she dressed and grabbed her camera, laptop, and purse. Her clothes could wait until tomorrow…but she couldn’t wait another second to leave Mitch.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The next evening, Jaye placed Mitch’s house key on the kitchen table and took one last longing look out the window. The setting sun draped a purple light across his back yard, scattering the carpet of snow with violet diamonds. Enchanting. She stared hard to burn the image into the back of her mind.

  Mitch opened the back door and strode into the kitchen. His blue eyes narrowed at the suitcase parked in the center of the floor. His gaze met hers for the first time since their argument last night.

  Goodbye rattled inside her chest and sunk to the pit of her knotted stomach. “I found a hotel room.”

  Turning, he hung his coat on the hook near the door. “Where?”

  “Coudersport.” She pushed his house key across the table. “This is yours.”

  He curled his hands over the back of a kitchen chair. The muscles in his forearms flexed.

  Anxious to get out before another argument started, Jaye pulled her suitcase toward the back door.

  “You owe me dinner. You were supposed to cook for me tonight.”

  “What?” She looked over her shoulder with a brittle frown. After what he’d said last night, did he really think she’d stick around for another meal?

  “In exchange for living here rent free, you agreed to cook for me three nights a week. A decent dinner should cover your rent for the weekend.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack.”

  “Fine.” She left her suitcase by the door and strode to the pantry. By the time Mitch pulled off his boots and set them in the corner, she slathered two pieces of bread with peanut butter and jelly, slapped the sandwich on a plate, and slid the meal onto the kitchen table. “Bon appetit.”

  Mitch glowered at the meager offering. “I said a decent meal.”

  “Sorry.” She plopped an apple next to the sandwich. “Now you’ve got carbs, protein, and fiber.”

  With a quick jerk, he opened his hands. “Nothing to drink?”

  The man looked like outraged food critic. Anger surged inside her, hotter than a broiling oven. For the past three weeks, she’d tried to find a way to make Mitch happy while she fulfilled the terms of her contract. Even though she’d tiptoed around the emotional minefield at Blake Glassware in order to meet Mitch’s needs, he still wasn’t happy. No more. Clamping her fingers around a bottle of water in the pantry, she tossed the drink across the room.

  He snatched the bottle out of the air and slammed it beside the plate. Ripping the sandwich in two, he extended one half. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  The hurt bleeding into her stomach washed away her appetite. Even if she’d prepared a gourmet meal, she couldn’t eat. “I’m joining someone for dinner.”

  “A dinner date on a Monday. Impressive.” He flicked the sandwich onto his plate and a glob of jelly squirted onto the table. He stared at the red goo with a malevolent glare. “Who are you meeting?”

  “Tara.”

  “What?” Mitch shook his head. “Why?”

  “She feels horrible about pushing me, and I don’t want her to carry around that guilt.” She walked past Mitch, feeling a fresh lash of grief when her black heels clicked against the tile. After living here for nearly thr
ee weeks, she’d grown used to the sound of his floor under her feet. “The website will go live in a couple of days. I’m training Sarah and Veronica to process the orders coming in through the Internet so they know what to do when I leave. I’ll stay until the middle of next week to iron out any problems. If you have any questions, text me.”

  “I won’t expect to hear back.” He spoke without turning to look at her. “I’ve seen how fast you respond to text messages from your exes.”

  His parting shot hurt, mostly because it was true. She stared at the red T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, the Blake Glassware lettering standing out in the dim light from the kitchen pendant lamp. Beneath his tough exterior, his wounds ran deep—deep enough to make him lash out should anyone tread on those scars.

  I won’t believe a fucking word you say.

  Anguish cracked across her rib cage. She’d turned into her mother, so bottled up with hurt she was willing to lie about who she was, what she was feeling, anything to avoid the truth. The consequences were costly. Mitch no longer believed her, and there was a good chance everyone at Blake Glassware would feel just as betrayed. At least, Veronica and Sarah would give her a chance to explain. Mitch never would. With a resolute turn toward the door, Jaye walked away.

  Mitch scratched the whiskers growing on his jaw but felt no regret about turning into a wooly ogre. Since watching Jaye moved out three days ago, he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror without feeling sick to his stomach. One of these days, he’d have to man up and shave.

  He stared out the restaurant’s window, trying to come up with one more excuse to return to the factory so he wouldn’t have to face his empty house again. Problem was, he’d spent every waking moment of the past seventy-two hours at work. There was nothing left to do. He was all caught up—caught up in a torment so intense, he couldn’t swallow. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t blink without feeling a sharp, slicing pain deep inside his brain.

  Phil nudged him. “Dinner’s here.”