by Lily Santana
“I’ll be there as soon as I close up here. What do you need me to bring? And don’t even start with any of that gluten-free crap that David can eat. Your cousin was right to divorce him.”
“I doubt David’s gluten intolerance was the reason Lisa divorced him. In any case, bring something really bad for us.”
“I can do that.”
Lorraine wrapped Emma’s head in a plastic wrap and rolled the portable heater over to where she sat. “Fifteen minutes under this thing, my dear, and you’ll be good to go. Do you want to sit by the window so you can enjoy the view?” Lorraine’s eyes twinkled knowingly.
Emma shook her head at her friend’s outrageous suggestion. “I’ll just take a magazine, thank you.”
Really, it wasn’t like she hadn’t already had her fill of porn-worthy Mitch last night and then this morning when she’d stepped off her porch and had practically tripped over his toolbox.
She’d looked up and there he was, on a ladder, with nothing on but faded jeans that sat way below the natural waistline. With his five o’clock shadow and mussed hair, he could have been posing for a sexy calendar shoot. She had gulped down her shock at seeing the trail of dark hair from his belly button down to where his jeans ended and her imagination began.
She was thankful for the sunglasses she’d donned before leaving the house. At least he couldn’t see her eyes. “What are you doing up there?”
He crooked his brows in that annoying way. “I’m working your honey-do-list, honey, and replacing the weather stripping on the windows.”
“Are you sure you’re feeling well enough for that?”
He glanced down. “I’m feeling great. Did you sleep well?”
“I slept fine,” she’d lied. “Don’t fall off that thing. I don’t have coverage if you break your neck.” She went to lock the front door but dropped her keys on the wooden plank. Damn.
“Much as I’m sure you’d like to see me do just that, I won’t be indulging your fantasy today. But thank you for the warning.”
She heard him chuckle when she’d dropped her keys twice more as she hurried to leave.
No, the last thing Emma wanted to do right now was be anywhere near Mitch McKenna.
Spending a quiet evening with her friends put a smile on her face. She wasn’t worried about getting David on board. He was the epitome of reason. His niceness was his curse. Her cousin Lisa had complained to Emma constantly that David was bland. No passion. And Lisa had wanted excitement. So they’d divorced after less than three years of marriage. Poor David. He’d stayed behind in Bella Del Mar, while Lisa opted for the big city of Denver.
But unlike her cousin, Emma preferred nice. She’d had her fill of excitement in the last few days to last a lifetime. She preferred predictable. She looked forward to being around David, whose steady matter-of-factness always provided reassurance.
He’d understand her predicament and would want to support her 100 percent. There was no reason in the world why he would object to approving Mitch’s plan, especially now that the citizen’s task force and the community was all for it.
* * *
Emma’s biceps throbbed as she hurried to place her groceries on the kitchen counter before the brown bag completely ripped in half. After getting her hair done, she’d decided to drive north to Cannon Beach to shop for a new outfit. She hadn’t counted on the construction traffic on the way back and by the time she’d finished picking up groceries, she had less than half an hour before her friends arrived. Sweat trickled down her back as she took off her raincoat.
She hadn’t heard from or seen Mitch since that morning. It wasn’t like they had plans tonight. Was it her fault he didn’t tell her if he was even going to be around? Maybe he’d figured out she’d done her part already.
A heavy lump in her stomach contradicted her optimism. It couldn’t be that easy, could it?
On auto-mode, she ran the baking potatoes under hot water before poking tiny holes in the skin and shoving them in the bottom rack of the oven. She dialed the thermometer to 350 degrees and set the timer for an hour. Baked potatoes—check. Next, she ripped the plastic covering off the family-sized package of rib eye steaks and placed the raw meat in a glass casserole. She applied garlic powder and an English rub on each flank before pouring half a can of 7UP. She covered the dish in foil. Marinate steak—check. She glanced at the clock. Five minutes tops, not too bad.
She was looking around the kitchen when her heart did a somersault. There, she heard it again. Running water. She looked to the hallway and frowned. Someone was in the upstairs bathroom.
With her heart in her throat, she prowled down the hallway, worry creasing her forehead, until she tripped over Bogie, who lay flat on his belly. Why wouldn’t he be barking?
Oh my God. Sammy. Something must have happened to cut her trip short. Adrenaline had her taking the stairs two steps at a time.
“Sammy?” Out of breath, Emma knocked on the bathroom door before entering. Steam blurred her vision. “Sammy, when did you—”
Large, tanned hands ripped open the white lace shower curtain, and a pair of piercing blue eyes granted her a pointed look. “Don’t you knock?”
Emma’s hands flew to her mouth. She gasped from the expanse of solid muscle displayed in tantalizing detail against the black-and-white mosaic tile. Unbidden, her gaze dropped to his semierect penis peeking through soapy froth. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. “What...what...why are you naked...here?”
He lifted one eyebrow. “Because I’m taking a shower here.”
Heat swarmed her skin and tingled her newly colored roots. “I...see that. But why are you taking a...a shower in my bathroom?”
Turning off the water, Mitch stepped out of the tub and grabbed a frayed brown towel she knew didn’t belong to her. Undaunted by her presence, he dried his body in quick stabs, all the while keeping his gaze on hers. His lips curled up in the corners. “I don’t mind you watching but unless you want to experience—” his eyes drifted between his legs, where she saw a distinct spasm that made her tilt her head sideways, “—I suggest you give me a minute to get dressed.”
Feeling like the potato she’d placed in the oven, her flesh singed with heat...and something else. With as much poise as she could manage, considering she couldn’t suck in enough air, she gave him an impervious look that belied her racing pulse and spun on her heels.
With the door closed behind her, Emma leaned back and placed shaky hands on her stomach to get her breathing to even out. She could hear him whistling behind the closed door and she grunted.
Hurrying before he opened the door and found her frazzled, she flew down the stairs and stood, with her arms crossed in front of her, by the front door.
When he finally descended, wearing dark Levi’s, a blue flannel shirt and still drying his hair with the towel, she groaned inside. Why, dear God, did the man have to exude raw sex appeal without even trying? Some men tried hard to achieve the look; Mitch made it look natural. But if not altogether oblivious to his effect on women, he seemed indifferent.
Knowing full well her imagination had been sorely lacking when it came to what lay underneath his jeans, she couldn’t find the nerve to meet his gaze without blushing. So instead, she studied the diagonal pattern on his shirt, right below his stubbled chin. “Care to explain why you were in my bathroom?”
She was distracted from her observation when he ran his hands through his damp hair. “Dorinda let me in.”
“Dorinda let you in?” she echoed, her voice hitching with each word. Sweat formed on her upper lip.
“Where have you been anyway?”
Wiping her clammy palms on her jeans, she frowned at him. “Out.” Her blouse felt tight against her neck and she adjusted it to open her airways. The hallway was hot. Her entire freaking home was smoldering. “Why is it so d
amn hot in here?”
“Because I just spent the last five hours weather-stripping your windows. And the reason I showered here is because I replaced several of your corroded pipes with new copper ones.”
“You did?” She bit her lip. “Thank you. But I still don’t get the shower part.” Emma made a mental note to have a chat with Dorinda for letting a stranger—okay, maybe not a stranger—a man, in her shower.
“My hot water heater busted. I was covered in muck and grease. Dorinda was kind enough to let me shower in your house. Thank you, by the way.”
She nodded, unable to pull a string of words together. “Oh.”
He raised a brow. “I left you a note.”
“A note?”
“Kitchen counter.”
“Oh.” What just happened upstairs boomeranged in her brain and her eyes drifted to his belt buckle before slicing up to focus on his face. “Thank you for fixing my windows and my pipes.”
He coughed into his fist. “Anytime. Besides, I said I would repair some things, right? I keep my word.”
His implication that she didn’t keep hers made her lift her chin in defiance. “I’ll be doing my part.”
“I should hope so. What are our plans for this evening?”
The reminder that her friends would be arriving in a few minutes jolted her into action. Her eyes widened in shock. “I have plans tonight.”
“You mean we have plans tonight.”
She cursed under her breath. “I’m having friends over. It’s our monthly book club.”
“A book club? How very mature.” Amusement filled his eyes.
“Good, then we agree it’s not your thing.”
“Wrong. I love books.”
Liar.
“You got your hair done.” His eyes narrowed and his gaze trickled down her body, stopping at strategic spots and leaving no doubt as to what was on his mind. “Is Bruin coming?”
“Yes.” The heat of his gaze left cinders in its path, scorching her skin where his eyes touched. She was suddenly self-conscious of the change to her appearance. Did he think she was trying to look good for David?
He clenched his jaw. “Perfect. This should be interesting.”
She gripped the banister. “If you don’t mind, I’m going up to change. Why don’t you make yourself useful and start the grill. Do you think you can handle that?”
“I can handle whatever you dish out.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Emma.”
She was halfway up the stairs when his voice called out. She looked down at his intense gaze. “What?”
“You look beautiful.”
She expelled a short breath, her heart hammering against her chest, before she floated the rest of the way up.
* * *
In her bedroom, Emma called herself every name in the book for being so effected by Mitch’s compliments. She had to remember he was playing a role. It was all for show to benefit him.
So why was her heart knocking against her ribs? And why, when she studied her face in her armoire’s full-length mirror, was her complexion flushed a coral pink?
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
How was she going to pull this off? She wouldn’t get the chance to talk with David in private with Mitch here. She knew Mitch would be watching their interaction. He’d expect her to use tonight as an opportunity to get David on board with his plans.
But there was no way she’d be able to pull one over on David without inciting suspicion. Not when he knew firsthand how hard she’d worked the past six months to stand in Mitch’s way.
Ripping open the resale boutique shopping bag, she brushed her fingers across the silky yellow fabric of the cotton sweater she’d bought. She’d gotten to be quite good at bargain shopping. She knew the sweater would look awesome paired with the cream-colored slacks Lorraine had given her for Christmas.
In the bathroom, she spurt a nickel-sized amount of foundation and smoothed it over her face before applying nude lip gloss. She grabbed a hairbrush but held it in midair, her gaze stuck on her reflection.
What am I doing?
Like a yo-yo, her gaze went from her reflection to her bedside table and back to the mirror as she fought the despair that had plagued her since Stefan died.
With leaded foot, she made her way to the bed and picked up the silver-plated frame. She caressed the lines on her husband’s gaunt face. The photo, taken a few weeks into his treatment, was of their last Christmas together. The goofy, lopsided tree Sammy had picked out poked its tinseled spine behind Stefan’s smiling face.
Her eyes welled with tears as she held the photo against her heart.
I’m still here, where you left me.
Her husband had only one thing on his wish list that Christmas. Stefan had made her promise him that she wouldn’t let his death stop her from living high, laughing hard and, one day, even loving deeply again. But she’d been such a coward.
Her throat tightened and her heart contracted with a different kind of pain, a hollow kind that stole her breath.
Her fingers trembled as she replaced the frame. She sighed deeply and started toward the closet to change her outfit but stopped short when Bogie barked by the door. She quickly wiped the tears from her face.
Chapter Eleven
Outside on the porch, Mitch leaned back against a vine-covered pillar and observed his crew’s handiwork. The wooden shutters around the windows shone clean and bright with new paint. The cedar siding on the southwest corner of the home had taken a beating from the gusty winds whipping in from Canada. More than a few of the shingles had warped. He’d replaced them and asked Nestor to power-wash the exterior. Mitch admired the way it gleamed proud against the crimson sunset.
He was sure Emma hadn’t noticed the changes yet. He’d give up beer for a year to see again the shocked expression on her face when he’d boldly stood naked in her bathroom. He grinned. He had to give it to her, she hadn’t been as rattled as he’d anticipated. He hadn’t intended to surprise her with his presence, but Dorinda had been unable to reach her and finally took pity on him when he came back in the store and begged her to let him have a hot shower to get rid of the grease. He was sure she’d give Dorinda an earful from her surprised eyeful.
When a car pulled up, Mitch plastered a ready smile until he recognized David Bruin. From the look on Bruin’s face, the building official wasn’t excited to see him either.
“McKenna, what are you doing here?”
“Same reason you’re here.”
Disbelief flashed on David’s face. Though they exchanged the obligatory handshake, Mitch knew it was less a greeting and more a feral baring-of-teeth warning for him to get off what David Bruin perceived to be his turf.
David squinted, his face contorting into a grimace. “Where’s Emma?”
“She’s upstairs getting changed.”
As he had expected, the intimacy implied in his answer earned him another constipated expression. “I didn’t realize you and Emma were...friends.”
Mitch smiled. “Imagine that.”
“I didn’t take you for a book-lover either.”
“Oh, yeah? Why not?”
David looked sheepish. “You just don’t look the type.”
“Even trailer-park boys read books.”
David shoved his hands into his back pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. “I hear you’re getting to be quite the celebrity around town.”
“How’s that?”
“I’ve received more than a few calls today regarding your new plans for the site. I was surprised, to be honest, that some of our folks are warming up to the idea of an upscale condominium complex on Mrs. Madsen’s old property. Then again, your rock star status may change if they realize what you propose if
your plans don’t get approved.”
Mitch kept his face impassive, even though his heart rate surged up a knot. “The revised plans I provided you have significant changes from the original. I gave in on some very important concessions the task force had asked for. There should be no reason why the plans don’t get approved.”
“I haven’t had a chance to review it. In any case, this isn’t the place to discuss it. As you know, Emma’s not so big on the idea.”
“I think you may be wrong on that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think she’s warming up to the idea of having me as a neighbor.”
An angry red blotch stained David’s cheeks. “Neighbor? You’re not seriously planning on living here? I thought this was strictly a business investment for you.”
He regarded Bruin with a pointed look. The man was probably hoping he’d build his project and get the hell out of Bella Del Mar so he’d have a free path to Emma. The intention on Bruin’s face was as plain as day.
“It sounds to me like that’s what you’re hoping I do. Now why do you suppose that is?”
Their gazes locked until they both heard the door open and, in a split second, Bruin’s face softened like a gummy bear. “Em, my God, you look amazing. I love the new hairstyle.”
Emma grinned and ran her fingers down her silken-smooth hair. The stylish cut lifted the heavy veil off her face and heighted her youthful features. Mitch had a hard time believing she had a seventeen-year-old daughter.
Especially when she was blushing like a teenager.
“Lorraine’s a miracle worker. You don’t think it’s too much of a change?”
“I thought you were lovely before, but now, my God, you are breathtaking. Why the change?”
The flirty interplay grated on Mitch’s nerves, especially since Emma had still to acknowledge his presence.
She shrugged. “It was time for a change.”
“Maybe the sunshine teased out your wild side,” Mitch interjected, finally earning him a direct look from her.
Bruin was right, Emma looked stunning. His eyes trailed down her chosen outfit. The pale, yellow sweater brought out her hair’s rich, darkened hue and the golden flecks in her eyes. The square neckline barely contained what truly was a gift to mankind, and matched with slacks that hinted at the shapely curves, she looked good enough to eat. His mouth dried like he’d just sucked on a bowl of sawdust. It was her expression, though, that had him wanting to bolt and drive as fast as he could the other way. He recognized the look. Hell, he’d recognize it even if he were blind. It was primal, sexual, and it nearly buckled his knees.