by JoAnn Durgin
“He has an important job on Wall Street. Stockbroker, I think. Kevin talked with him at the reception and said he’s funny, personable and not at all snooty. Winnie’s gotten to know him from her visits with Amy and says he’s a great catch—great guy, I mean.”
Seeing Rebekah’s frown, Cassie moved over to the bed. “Wait. Let me help you.” Kneeling on the floor, she made quick work of looping and tying the laces.
“Thanks. I didn’t think about how difficult it would be to bend over and reach my feet. Wearing this dress gives me newfound respect for our female ancestors.”
“Keep that in mind when you’re expecting.” Cassie grinned when she glimpsed Rebekah’s smirk. “All I’m suggesting is that you wear slip on shoes. . .when the time comes.”
“Not that I plan on wearing a dress like this when I’m pregnant. Trust me, Kevin and I will jump on the baby brigade soon enough.” Rising to her feet, Rebekah offered her hand to help Cassie do the same. “My husband hints about it almost every day, and if he doesn’t, then Mom does. For now, my brother and Winnie are doing a fine job of populating our family all on their own.” She smoothed one hand down the front of her gown. “Now, back to Mitch.”
Cassie arched a brow. “Why are we talking about a man we’ll probably never see again? Please don’t tell me you’re suggesting I do some populating with Amy’s brother?” She batted her eyelids in an exaggerated manner. “I mean, how nice for Mitch with his fancy credentials and pedigree, but for one thing, I can’t imagine your husband ever using the word snooty.”
Rebekah pulled a tube of lip gloss from her handbag. “So maybe that’s my interpretation. Entitled, then. Just sharing some observations.” She slicked the gloss over her lips and smiled. “And never is an awfully long time, my friend.”
Chapter 2
The eagerness in Amy’s expression disgruntled Mitch.
Here we go.
“Let’s start with how you and Cassie both operate outside the box. You’re independent thinkers who will do almost anything to help someone in need. Add compassion into the mix. And while you’re book smart, Cassie’s intuitive and a great interpreter of human nature.”
“I’m not sure that last statement bodes well either for me or the lovely Cassie. In addition to telling me I’m getting older by the minute, you implied I’m intelligent but have little to no common sense. You also insinuated Cassie might possess the uncanny ability to read me like the proverbial book. No, thanks. Not sure I can—nor do I want—to go there. Besides, the whole sen-son thing with our last names doesn’t work. Doesn’t sound right.” Ridiculous thing to say, but—short of hyperventilating—he was willing to try anything to thwart her. He pinned her with his gaze. “In spite of your valiant and admirable efforts, I’m going to disappoint you.”
“And you just demonstrated one of your most annoying yet strangely endearing traits—your sometimes unrelenting sarcasm.” Although Amy’s tone teased, Mitch detected her underlying seriousness. Sparring with Amy had made his life interesting and fun from the time they were kids growing up in suburban Philadelphia.
He’d never been as close with their younger sister, Celeste. Happily engaged and working in Philly, Celeste was content with their bi-weekly phone chats, oblivious to how he struggled to find common ground for a conversation lasting more than five minutes. They’d never shared similar pursuits and his younger sister didn’t get him the way Amy always had. Only eighteen months separated them in age, and Amy kept him centered and straight.
“If you and Cassie marry, she’d probably take your last name and not hyphenate it.”
“Not a modern woman?”
“Not a feminist.”
He laughed. “Just because a woman—”
“Cassie’s beautiful, she’s smart and she’s better for you than any of the other women you’ve dated the past ten years.” Amy also never minced words, a quality he begrudgingly appreciated.
“Against my better judgment, I’m listening,” he said. “It’s not like I can get up and walk away from this discussion.”
“You’re feeling better now, right?”
“I think I’ll survive. Thanks for your concern.”
“Here’s the thing, Mitch. Your previous choices in women haven’t worked out, so why not give Cassie a chance?”
“Welcome to the modern age, Amy. An arranged marriage isn’t in the plan book for my life, no matter how attractive, intelligent, compassionate and generous a woman may be.” Try as he might to prevent it, a hint of sarcasm managed to seep into his words. “Surely you understand the harder you push, the faster I’m going to run in the opposite direction.”
“In other things, maybe, but where Cassie is concerned? Admit it. You’re interested.”
He shook his head. “You’re delusional. No wonder the TeamWork crew nicknamed you Daydreamer.”
“You’re looking forward to this weekend. Don’t deny it.”
“You’re a hopeless romantic,” he shot back.
“And you’re lonely, Mitch the Itch.”
That barb silenced him as Amy knew it would. His sister was deliriously happy and that’s what mattered most. On the flip side, her own state of marital bliss seemed to fuel her insatiable desire to find him a mate. While he couldn’t be more thrilled for her, keeping her from meddling in his love life had become a top priority, especially in the past year.
And as much as he hated to acknowledge it, Amy was—admittedly, regrettably and completely—right.
~~**~~
The mention of Mitch Jacobsen brought him front and center in Cassie’s mind. His physical resemblance to Amy was striking. Both Amy and her brother were well-educated, attractive trust fund babies who didn’t put on airs although their good breeding was stamped on their Ivy League foreheads. Mitch had walked Amy down the aisle at her wedding since their dad passed away a number of years ago. When he’d stepped aside for Landon to take his place beside Amy, Mitch had kissed his sister’s cheek with such tenderness it’d brought tears to her eyes.
How she missed a close sibling relationship. The sting of loss pierced Cassie at the thought of Tagg, as it always did. Fourteen years hadn’t removed that heartache, but the passage of time had eased it somewhat. Now she could smile without breaking down in tears whenever she thought of her brother.
Her conversation with Mitch had been cut short at the wedding reception when his date—a willowy brunette who’d clung to him closer than a leech—corralled him and monopolized his attention. Busy for the rest of the evening, Cassie hadn’t given Mitch another thought. Until Amy tossed the wedding bouquet and it landed right in front of her, as in directly on top of her feet. She’d purposely refused to grab it even though she’d been the catcher of her high school girls’ softball team. So, there she stood, staring at the bouquet while the other girls scrambled for it. Silly tradition.
Snapping back to reality, Cassie opened the small jewelry box she’d brought and carefully removed one of the vintage gold earrings.
“My turn. Let me help you with those,” Rebekah said, tossing the lip gloss back in her purse.
Cassie held up the gold, dangly earring and admired its intricate pattern. “I know you’re trying your best to pair me off with someone, but you must be desperate to consider a man who lives in Manhattan, of all places. Just because Mitch is single doesn’t necessarily mean he’s unattached. Besides, I’m perfectly happy with my life as it is.”
Great. Why’d she say that? It sounded like something a woman in denial, or one who wished for a mate, would say. “I mean, why complicate anything? Based on the woman I saw him with at Amy’s wedding, I got the impression Mitch prefers professional career women. Or waif-thin model types,” she mumbled under her breath.
“No snap judgments allowed.” Taking one of the earrings, Rebekah carefully helped her put them in. “These are exquisite. Where’d you find them?”
“From the same friend who loaned us the costumes. The design is very similar to the gold pattern i
n the dress, don’t you think?” Having a friend who worked as the wardrobe mistress for a local theatre company—and owed her a favor—had its perks.
“Yes, you have a very good sense for things that match perfectly,” Rebekah said with a coy smile. “All I’m saying is, you never know when the right man might walk around the corner and straight into your heart. It is Valentine’s Day weekend, after all.”
“Today is also Friday the thirteenth,” Cassie said. “Not that I pay any attention to silly superstition, but I’m still not sure I want to meet the man of my dreams today of all days.”
Rebekah darted one last glance in the mirror. “Promise me you’ll keep your possibilities open this weekend. That’s all.”
“Fine. If the Lord decides to plant a candidate for husbandhood—is that even a word?—directly in my path, then maybe I’ll pay attention. But no promises.”
Chapter 3
Mitch figured he might as well let Amy have her say. Then he might be able to get a little shut-eye. He could tell her he needed to rest so he’d look his best for Cassie, but he doubted even that plan of counter-attack would stop her. When his sister set her mind on something, she could be as relentless as a tigress. On the flip side, she could also be as fiercely protective, which sometimes worked to his advantage. Being forced to examine his deepest insecurities might actually prove to be a positive exercise.
Turning in her seat to face him, Amy wore that all too familiar I’m going to win this debate at all costs expression. “First, let’s look at the facts. In the past year alone, there’s been quite a parade of women in your life. Starting with Monique the lawyer who apparently takes perverse satisfaction in draining the bank accounts of her clients. Then she tried to drain your financial resources by having you squire her to all those fancy places and donate to her numerous pet causes. Then there’s the librarian with the mermaid-sounding name. I have to give you credit for that relationship. She wasn’t as sleek and sophisticated as the women you normally date, but she was—”
“A closet klepto,” Mitch said. Unfortunately, Arielle lifted more than books from the townhouse. He was still hunting for the Lee Lawrie sculpture inherited from Grandpa Carlisle that had gone missing. The same housekeeping service had worked for Amy when she’d lived there. Since Arielle was the last woman in the place, she had to be the culprit. If she found out, Mom would kill him. So would Amy, so he’d best keep it to himself.
Things meant nothing except when it was a valuable heirloom. Maybe he should have reported it to the police, but he didn’t want to see Arielle thrown in jail. He’d tried to figure out a way to get into her apartment, but her building security was tighter than Ft. Knox. Yeah, he’d been clueless. No wonder Arielle could afford to rent such an expensive apartment on a junior librarian’s budget. She also dressed well, and could obviously spot things of great value. A visit to a pawn shop or two nearest her apartment might be in order upon his return to New York.
“Oh. Didn’t know that. Sorry. Then came—” Amy shot him a curious expression—“help me out here.”
Mitch exhaled. “Must we get into this now?”
“No time like the present. Okay, was it Katie the nurse? Or, wait a minute, Southern Belle, or how about Jenny, the cologne-spritzing girl from Saks?” She snapped her fingers. “I know. That cat-eyed, exotic looking Nordic blonde from Café Eduardo? What was her name—Ingrid? The hostess you flirted with shamelessly the night I met Landon?”
“I’m surprised you even noticed. Like you didn’t do some heavy flirting of your own. The way you said, ‘Thank you, Mr. Warnick,’ in that breathy voice when he came over to our table practically channeled Marilyn Monroe and dripped with the innuendo of I want to marry you and have your children.”
Although her lips twisted, Amy surprisingly let that one go. “Moving on.”
“Fine. Next would be Lorelei,” Mitch said, wondering why he was indulging this line of questioning. “Daddy’s girl from Georgia. Sausage empire heiress.”
“Ah, right. How could I forget? You met her at an art gallery opening and nicknamed her the Macon Bacon Girl. Or was it the other way around?”
He shook his head and allowed the hint of a grin. The release felt good. “I get your point.”
“You know, I’m not really sure you do.” Amy’s smile sobered as she stared him down. “Here’s the thing. It’s time to grow up, Mitch.”
“Thanks for that.” Mitch glanced out the window. At least the turbulence wasn’t so bad at the moment. “Forcing a confrontation about my love life isn’t part of what I bargained for when I agreed to come on this trip.” Returning his gaze to his sister, he sighed. “To borrow your phrase, you just demonstrated one of your most annoying yet strangely endearing traits—your sometimes unrelenting bluntness.”
“Well, someone’s got to do it. I prefer to call it blatant honesty.” Amy settled back in her seat, closing her eyes. It was too much to hope for that she’d ease up on him for long. Most likely, she was only refueling. Even their mother wasn’t on his case as much as Amy, although he’d sensed her frequent disapproval of his choices for female companionship. For the most part, the women he’d dated displayed a negligible faith, if they had any belief system whatsoever. He’d finally reached the saturation point with aimless relationships, but Amy didn’t know it yet. If she did, she’d push Cassie on him with even more fervor. So, he’d kept silent.
Opening her eyes, Amy focused on him again. “I know you’ve wanted to get to know Sam and Lexa better for a while now. This weekend is the perfect opportunity. Other than the birthday party today, we don’t have any major plans except to be together and have fun.” Her lips upturned. “It’ll also give me a chance to brag on the great work you’ve done with the inner-city TeamWork projects in New York. I guarantee Cassie will be impressed.”
“No one likes a braggart, but thanks for the thought.” He purposely ignored the reference to Cassie. “TeamWork’s a terrific organization. I admire how you all rally around each other, and I know how much you respect Sam and Lexa.” He chuckled. “I guess I should say y’all since we’re headed to the Lone Star State.”
“Once you get to know Sam, you’ll understand.” Amy’s smile grew brighter. “The man’s pretty persuasive. With a Texas-sized heart for the Lord.”
“Right. As long as y’all don’t start drinking Kool-Aid at the Lewis compound and make a pact to—”
Based on her scowl, she didn’t take kindly to that one. Perhaps he’d crossed a line. “If you know what’s good for you, you won’t finish that sentence, Mitchell Ainsworth.”
“Down, Amelia Madelyn,” Mitch said, laughing. “I’ll be good. Don’t take it personally. You led yourself right into that one. I couldn’t resist.”
“Promise me you’ll be on your best behavior when we get to Houston.”
“If you’re afraid I’ll embarrass you, then why’d you bring me along?”
“It’s not like I had to twist your arm.”
“Unfortunately, I had no valid excuse to get out of coming. Which says a lot about the sorry state of my current social life. Momentary slump.” He ducked when she tossed another balled-up airbag his way.
“Truce,” he said, raising his hands. “I’ve witnessed how you and Landon pour your hearts and souls into TeamWork.” He shifted in his seat, thankful for the new direction in conversation. “Seriously, it’s a beautiful thing. Case in point: taking a girl you met in a no-name Texas town under your wing and bringing her to Queens. Tam’s a natural leader and works incredibly well with those girls. I’m sure you’d say she’s found her calling.”
“You’re as much a part of that project as we are, so don’t discount your own involvement,” Amy said. “And you didn’t promise.”
“Never.”
“I hope you know Tam’s got a huge crush on you.”
“I love that kid of hers. He’s cute as anything. Who’d have thought a girl like that would name her son Henry James?”
Amy sniffed. �
��A girl like that? What’s that supposed to mean? Harvard sheepskin does not give you the right to be a snob.”
His smile sobered. Did he sound like a snob? That was one four-letter word he never wanted to be called. Heaven forbid. “I wouldn’t expect Henry James to be in her reading repertoire, that’s all.”
“Let’s not get off topic.”
“Let’s do,” he said, disgruntled.
“You claim to fall in love on a semi-regular basis yet you can’t seem to hold onto a relationship more than a few months. What’s the problem, Mitch?”
He’d been expecting this interrogation. Difference was, he was usually on the phone and could make a convenient excuse and escape. No such luck here, currently suspended in a metal cocoon in the sky. “Not the best time for this discussion.”
“Why not?” Amy’s grin was irritatingly smug. “I don’t think there’s any better time. If we die, at least we’ll clear the air and can plunge to our deaths knowing we’re at peace with each other.”
“Comforting.” He stifled the groan trapped in his throat when the plane hit yet another blasted air pocket. Would this flight never end?
“I’m taking us to a higher altitude. These winds are killer,” Landon called from the cockpit.
Mitch gripped the arms of his seat so hard his knuckles turned white.
“Watch your language,” Amy said, elevating her voice. “No references to death and dying, please. Mitch is on the verge of hyperventilating as it is.”
“Am not. I’m fine.” Great. Now he sounded whiny.
“Next time I’ll bring along a pacifier. Maybe that’ll soothe you.”
He shot her a pointed look. “The only reason to have one of those handy is if you give me a niece or nephew to spoil. How’d I ever let you talk me into this trip? I should be getting ready to spend Friday evening on the sofa in the townhouse, feet up, watching a movie or reading some classic Twain.”