Clear as Glass

by Lynn Kellan

  He rinsed off the faucet tip, reassembled the piece, stepped back and crossed his arms, waiting for a drip. The faucet stayed dry.

  “I’ll be damned. That was an easy fix.” Simon clapped him on the shoulder. “How much do I owe you?”

  Give me your daughter. Mitch searched for any sign of her and found none. “You don’t owe me anything.”

  “No, I insist. You came all the way out here to help.” Simon opened his wallet and offered a crisp one hundred dollar bill.

  Mitch lowered his arms and met Simon’s gaze. “Sir, I don’t want your money. I’m here to see Jaye.”

  Simon’s goodwill mutated into a frown. “There’s got to be a mistake. She isn’t dating a plumber.”

  His insides twisted into a tight coil. “Who is she dating?”

  A sneaker’s rubber sole squeaked against the marble floor. Mitch turned toward the sound and caught sight of sideswept bangs, chocolate brown eyes, and pink lips that unmanned him. Jaye.

  “Mitch?” She halted by the kitchen island and her keys clattered to the counter with a loud, piercing thump. “What are you doing here?”

  “I need to talk to you.” He recognized her yellow jacket and black running tights and felt a thrust of panic when she didn’t run toward him.

  Her brown eyes widened. “This place is off the map. How did you find me?”

  “You listed your parents as an emergency contact on your contract.” Mitch shifted toward the gleaming refrigerator in an instinctive move to block her escape. All those years playing college football snapped his brain into defensive mode, only this time he wasn’t stopping a running back from getting past him but a stunning brunette.

  Her father stepped into view. “Jayson, do you know this man?”

  “Yes. He’s a client.”

  A client. Nausea rolled his stomach.

  The delicate tap of high heels entered the kitchen. Mitch turned his gaze toward a woman who looked a lot like Jaye. “Hello, Mrs. Davis. Thank you for inviting me.”

  “You invited him?” Simon glowered at Cecelia. “Why?”

  Mitch didn’t like the sharp accusation in Simon’s voice. “I didn’t give your wife much choice. When I called, I was halfway here.”

  “Damn.” Jaye turned on her heel and walked into the adjoining living room.

  Her softly muttered curse set off an alarm in his head. Hell, didn’t she want to see him? Mitch prowled after her, unwilling to let her out of his sight.

  She stopped in front of the massive hearth and whirled to face him. “I don’t want to argue again.”

  “I’m not here to fight.” He noticed the faint smudge under her beautiful eyes. Had she been having trouble sleeping, like him? Or had she been working nonstop with little time for rest? His stomach cramped at the possibility she hadn’t missed him at all.

  Her gaze skidded to the kitchen, where her parents spoke to one another in sharp bursts and left the room, stiff-backed and grim like two boxers heading to their separate corners after a brutal round.

  Mitch had the feeling Jaye had refereed their fights for too long. Sadness pulled at her shoulders like an invisible weight rested upon her.

  She straightened her spine and looked at him. “I’m moving in two weeks. Maybe to California.”

  Pain sliced through his abdomen, a hundred times worse than when the shard of glass cut his forearm. “Why?”

  The luscious curve of her lips thinned. “Because I want to start over. I’m leaving Davis Software. With any luck, I’ll find another job writing code.”

  Something had happened over the past seven days, something bad enough to convince her to walk away from her job, from her family…from everything. The truth wasn’t difficult to see. Only one person could drive her away from Davis Software—her father. Anger poured through Mitch, making his hands twitch with the temptation to grab one of the fireplace pokers and slam the heavy brass stick into the coffee table until nothing remained but a pile of splinters.

  “If you’re starting over, why write code?” Mitch opened his hands, not caring when they shook. “What about doing something different, something that makes you happy? Or are you giving up everything that makes you smile?”

  The smooth skin on her cheeks turned pale. She took a stumbling step away from the fireplace. “Writing code is the only thing I know.”

  “No, it’s not. You know exactly what to do when a camera is in your hands. Ever since you left, people from town have showed me the pictures you took of them, of their kids, of the mountains. Every photograph was perfect.” Mitch held her gaze, desperate to get her to see what she refused to acknowledge. “You’re an artist. Like me.”

  She froze, looking at him with big, wide eyes.

  A part of him thought he probably wore the same stunned you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look every time she’d called him an artist. Every time she’d tried to get him to see what he refused to admit. The center of his chest ached, every molecule inside him pulling toward her like steel to a magnet. He felt his voice dip, low and raspy with want. “You’re just like me, honey.”

  Simon Davis stormed into the living room, gripping a yellow sheet of paper.

  Cecelia followed, wearing a tight, white-lipped expression.

  “I just found your note.” Simon stopped beside the couch and waved the paper in the air. “Is this some kind of a joke?”

  Jaye dragged her gaze to her father and shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t joke about resigning.”

  “Fine. You’re free to leave now.” Her father wadded up the paper in his fist. “I always knew you weren’t cut out to run the business. We don’t need you.”

  The sparkle drained from her eyes.

  Damn it all, he wouldn’t let Simon crush her like some worthless gnat. Mitch rushed to get to her and slammed his leg against the hearth. A wicked twinge zipped up his calf but he ignored the pain and grabbed her arm. The feel of her arrowed a sharp pierce of longing into his chest, more painful than the bruise forming on his leg. “I need you. I need you more than anything. Ever since you left, I can’t function. I’ve dropped five pieces of glass in the past two days. I can’t hold on to anything if I can’t hold you.”

  She blinked at him and frowned.

  Her blank gaze looked like she could hardly hear anything after her father’s cruel dismissal and Mitch’s emotions flared, sparked by a bone-deep craving. He sank to one knee in front of her, ready to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt he possessed the passionate, volatile soul of an artist. He dug a hand into his pocket and held up a platinum ring mounted with a one-carat diamond. “I’ll never ask for anything else if you promise to give me two things right now—a short engagement and a long marriage.”

  “What the hell?” Simon bellowed.

  Mitch slid the ring onto her finger and pressed his lips against the ridge of her knuckles, breathing in the sweet vanilla scent of her skin. Memories of all that she’d done for him scattered across his mind like autumn leaves blowing across a yard. She was the only one who ever listened to what he wanted. She was the only one who spoke to him after his temper ripped everything apart. She was the only one who understood his sacrifices, his wants, his needs.

  She was the only one.

  He looked up at her sweet pixie face, gazing into eyes dark as the coffee he needed every morning. “Blake Glassware needs me, but I need you more. I’ll go wherever you are, Jaye. Being with you is more important than anything else.” Clasping her hands in his, he rose so they were on equal footing, eye to eye. “You’re the only thing that matters. Will you marry me?”

  Her mouth parted, sucking in a soft gasp.

  “She won’t go near you after I’m done running a background check on you, Blake.” Simon took a threatening step forward. “My detectives will uncover every blotch on your criminal record.”

  “Jaye already knows about my life of crime. Hell, she knows every flaw I possess.” Hopefully, his good qualities outweighed the bad. Mitch leaned closer, lowering his voice so only s
he could hear. “D’you consider streaking across the academic quad a felony?”

  A tiny crease no bigger than a thumbnail curved near the corner of her mouth.

  God, it was a grin. Small. Perfect. His.

  He felt his own mouth explode into a smile.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cecelia place her fingertips on her husband’s arm, the subtle action a blatant plea. “Simon, let them be.”

  He jerked away from her touch, targeting Mitch with a lethal glare. “I’ll dissect your credit rating and find every debt you owe.”

  “You won’t find any. I bought my house in cash. I went to college on scholarship and don’t owe a dime. The only debt I owe is to Jaye for making my life a helluva lot better than it ever was without her.” Mitch looked at her father and spoke in an even, forthright tone. “I don’t want your money. I’ll sign whatever document you need to prove it. All I want is your daughter.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second.”

  “Stop. No more. Just stop.” Jaye strode into the adjoining kitchen, plucked her keys off the granite countertop, and sought Mitch’s gaze. “Let’s finish this in the foyer.”

  “Fine.” Not knowing what the hell she meant by finish this, he followed the bright yellow hue of her running jacket. Lengthening his stride, he caught up with her near the winding staircase and nearly ran into something the size of a suitcase. He took a second look and realized it was her suitcase.

  Shit. Was she leaving for California tonight?

  “Promise me you’ll leave right now. Don’t stay. Don’t talk to my mother. Don’t talk to my father.” Her voice faded to a hoarse whisper. “Please, Mitch. Promise me.”

  “I’ll do whatever you want.” Cracks formed along his insides, ready to shatter into a thousand pieces if she took off his ring. He pulled in a deep draught of air, determined to listen to every word she spoke—even if it killed him. “Just tell me what’s going on, honey.”

  “There’s no time. Everything is falling apart. I need to leave before I fall apart, too.” She swallowed and looked at the door. “Go home. I’ll find you tomorrow. We’ll talk then.”

  He forced himself to walk, but his movements felt stiff and robotic. The doorknob seemed too small in his numb fingers, but he wrenched open the door. A cold gust slapped him in the face, reminding him this was terribly real and not some vicious nightmare. Stepping onto the massive porch, he turned to catch one last look at the girl he needed more than anything else.

  She rushed to him in a blur of yellow, framing his jaw with soft, loving hands. Her mouth landed on his in an excruciating kiss that felt so good, he had to grip the doorway to stop from falling face first onto the threshold.

  He had no idea if the kiss meant yes.

  Or no.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Wearing a pair of jeans into Davis Software wasn’t an act of rebellion but a declaration of Jaye’s independence. She was no longer a slave to her father’s dreams. To drive home that simple fact, she stood in front of her father’s desk with empty hands. No electronic tablet filled her palms. All she had was an engagement ring on her finger, stunning evidence the future no longer belonged to him, but her.

  Her father’s dark eyes zoned in on the diamond. His regal mouth curled into a disapproving snarl and he jammed the phone to his ear. “His name is Mitchell Blake. I want you to do a thorough background check on him. I need to see his criminal record and credit rating. Dig into his private life and find out if there are any illegitimate children, gambling problems, or hookers in his past. Check his family, too. I need this information yesterday. I don’t care how much the investigation will cost. Get a report to me fast.”

  He hung up and sorted through the papers on his desk.

  Jaye sighed. “I haven’t said yes to Mitch, but you look like you’re already preparing for our wedding.”

  “We won’t attend any wedding you plan with that jerk.”

  “Don’t call him a jerk.” The sharp tone of her voice bolted through the air. As far as she was concerned, her parents weren’t invited to any wedding of hers. They’d suck the joy out of the ceremony like a virus infecting a computer.

  “You should be marrying a man like David. He understands the complexities of running a multi-million dollar business.”

  “Yes, he does. Too bad he doesn’t understand me.”

  Her father leaned back in his chair, looking every bit the raven eyeing a helpless mouse. “Did you at least have the common decency to speak to David this morning?”

  “Yes, I have common decency. No, I didn’t speak to him.” She refused to drop her gaze. “I called him yesterday to say I was leaving. If David told you we’d be speaking today, he lied. I urge you to not to work with him. He’s an unethical man.”

  “I’ll be the judge of his character. Frankly, I’m more concerned with the man who came to our house yesterday.” He tapped one finger on his desk. “Glassblowers don’t make much money. Have you thought about how a huge drop in income will affect your life?”

  The threat was clear—her father would cut her off from the family fortune if she married Mitch. The notion made her feel small, like she was never anything more than a tax write-off. Thanks to decades of her mother’s tutelage, Jaye hid her devastation behind a serene mask. “I’m used to living off the money I make, Dad. Money has never been an issue.”

  “Money will become an issue when you have very little.”

  The snub stung. Clearly, her father thought she couldn’t take care of herself. She was too numb to defend herself, but she wouldn’t stand there and let him demean Mitch. “You have no idea of what Mitch can do, how he runs Blake Glassware, or his vision to expand the business. I believe in him and spent four weeks designing a marketing plan to set his plan into motion. I sent you the link to the website I designed. Did you visit it?”

  His fingers twitched. “I’m too busy to surf the web.”

  In other words, her father was too busy to invest any time in his daughter or her potential fiancé. What better punishment for veering off the carefully mapped road toward her future?

  She strolled to the window and wondered if her father ever looked at the landscape. Knowing him, he’d find a virtual view more intriguing. He preferred anything he could control. Jaye no longer fit in that illustrious category. “I asked Mitch to leave last night because I didn’t want him to hear this. He’d blame himself if you disowned me.”

  “He deserves the blame.”

  “No, Dad. We were torn apart long before he showed up.”

  In the reflection of the window, she watched him pound away at his computer like she was as insignificant as an outdated memory chip. The message was clear. She’d gone ahead and proved what he’d known all along: she was a rotten excuse for a son.

  Luckily, she was a daughter. A good one, too.

  The time had come to be herself…and she knew exactly who that was. Ready to leave the suffocating silence of her father’s disapproval, she walked out of his suite, past his sneering secretary, and didn’t spare a glance into the office set aside for her.

  An uncharacteristic mess littered Mitch’s garage. A table saw sat in the empty bay, surrounded by scattered tools and paint cans. The heap of drywall and wood looked like someone had swung a crowbar into a wall and ripped it to shreds. If Mitch had taken out his frustrations on his house, was there anything left?

  Swallowing a lump of apprehension, Jaye avoided a coiled extension cord, knocked on the back door, and walked inside.

  Nothing looked familiar. The old kitchen was gone. In its place were gleaming cherry cabinets, new countertops, and sleek stainless-steel appliances. A wall no longer separated the kitchen from the living room. Now both spaces created one large, open great room.

  She stared at the transformation like a whistle pig frozen in the glare of oncoming headlights. Had Mitch renovated his kitchen for her?

  There was no way to find out. The man who lived here was nowhere in sight.


  Laying her coat over a new kitchen chair, she wound her way into the hallway leading to his bedroom. The door was open and the light was on, so she stepped into his private refuge. The room contained an attractive set of furniture stained a dark, masculine chestnut hue that contrasted nicely with the soothing taupe painted on the walls. Plush carpet covered the floor. Jaye stepped out of her shoes and wiggled her toes on the soft rug.

  Mitch strode out of the bathroom, caught sight of her, and stopped beside the bureau.

  His blond hair looked a dark caramel, damp from a recent shower. A towel hung low around his trim waist. Light from the bedside lamp slanted across his torso, highlighting the scar across his collarbone.

  A man who’d thrown himself in front of a car to pull a boy to safety. She had a feeling he’d do the same thing to keep her safe.

  “I let myself in like you told me to.” She ripped her gaze from his chest and gestured toward the door. “You’ve been busy since I left. The kitchen looks amazing.”

  His expression was as hard and unyielding as one of his glass sculptures, beautiful yet locked away behind some heavy curtain.

  Her throat stopped working, no longer able to swallow. Something was wrong.

  Had he changed his mind? For a horrible moment, a small voice whispered that if her parents didn’t want her, why would he?

  “Yesterday was a huge mistake. I never should’ve showed up like I did. Hell, I ripped apart your family.” With a brutal yank, he opened a drawer and pulled out a shirt. “I blindsided you. And your parents.”

  She crushed the hem of her sweater in her fist. “Don’t feel guilty.”

  “How can I not?” He tossed the shirt onto his bureau and braced his hands on his hips. “I asked you to pick between me or them. What kind of a choice is that, pixie?”

  The sound of her nickname panicked her. A pixie would know how to chase the pain off his face, but Jaye could think of only one thing to say. She’d never had much luck with the words, but she hurried to him, framed his stony jaw in her hands, and blurted the only thing that mattered. “I love you, Mitch.”