His mother had confirmed his gut feeling. Laura and Mandy seemed as close as any mother and daughter could be, and he was ashamed of his suspicion. But his concern for Ray led him to play devil's advocate. "Maybe she's trying to win us over and make us sympathetic toward her."
"I know you love Ray like a father. Even more because you didn't have a proper father and Ray fills up that space in your life." Her voice held regret and pain, but she continued, "Laura may have hurt her father once, but six years is a long time. She's not a teenager now. She probably wishes those six years were different as much as he does."
Mitch had the feeling Laura didn't regret walking away from her father one iota, let alone living however she wanted the last six years. She was a free spirit, all right, with her "grab the moment" philosophy. He knew from experience that free spirits resisted shackles at someone else's expense. Enough about Laura. He was thinking about her too often as it was.
When Nora opened another cupboard, Mitch asked, "Can I help you find something?"
She pushed a peanut butter jar aside. "I'm looking for the pancake mix. Thought I'd get ingredients ready for breakfast."
"Mom, you're not here to cook and take care of
everybody--"
She stopped searching. "Can't you let me do what makes me happy?"
He felt guilty. Laura had touched a nerve earlier. His mother would like nothing better than him staying with her when he was in town. She liked taking care of people. She was happiest when she performed some service for someone. But she didn't need to do that now. She didn't have to sew for anyone; she didn't have to provide for and worry about him and Carey. So what did she do? She volunteered at a day care center.
He angled around the counter and opened a cupboard. When he couldn't find the mix there, he peered into the cabinet she had last opened. The back of the box faced him. "Here it is. I'm surprised you didn't see it."
She looked at the front of the box. "This is different from what we use. I guess that's why I missed it."
"I wish you'd see the optometrist. You've been saying you're going to do it the last few years. I can make an appointment for you--"
"No. I'll do it myself."
"Soon?"
"Yes." At his scolding glance, she said, "I promise." She opened the freezer, found a package of bacon, and transferred it to the refrigerator.
"I'm going to work for a while, but if you want to go to bed, feel free. Do you remember when Ray gave you a tour of the house? You can sleep in the room with the yellow curtains."
"I remember. But I was going to sleep in the housekeeper's quarters down here."
A sitting room, bedroom and bathroom stretched behind the kitchen. Mitch supposed the cleaning lady kept it clean and aired out but his mother wasn't sleeping there. "You're not the housekeeper. There's no reason you shouldn't sleep upstairs with the rest of us."
"If you think that's what Ray would want..."
Mitch was firm. "That's what he'd want."
"Okay. But I'm not going to bed yet. I'll get the coffee ready and set the table for breakfast, maybe watch TV and keep you company."
He'd thought he'd work in Ray's den, but he supposed he could sketch on the couch just as easily. "I'm going to change into something more comfortable. I'll be down in a few minutes."
As he climbed the steps, he knew he wouldn't get much work done. His mother would interrupt a hundred times, commenting on the TV program or asking to see what he was designing. He smiled. They'd spent many Sunday afternoons like that. They hadn't done it lately.
On the way to his bedroom, Mitch passed the open bathroom door. A billow of steam and a flowery scent surrounded him. Gardenias?
Laura was hanging her bath towel over the wooden rack next to the sink. She wore a short flannel robe with bright violet, vivid yellow, and emerald stripes. Didn't the woman believe in muted colors? Her bare feet invited his eyes to skim her legs. Did she wear a sedate gown like her daughter, or was satin more her speed?
When she went to the sink and picked up a brush, she saw him. "Did you want to get a shower? I thought you'd use the bath off of Dad's room."
Her hair was a combination of gold and tiger's eye, fluffy and wild around her face. His fingers itched to glide through it, smooth it, stroke it. He cleared his throat. "No. I came up to change. I thought...uh...we should leave at six thirty tomorrow morning. Mom said she'll make breakfast."
"She doesn't have to."
"I know. But don't argue with her. She wants to."
Laura came toward him. The scent of gardenias was even stronger. Was it shampoo, perfume, lotion? Lord, this woman oozed sensuality. The colors she chose, the style of her hair, the large grey eyes, the way she walked. He was hypnotized by her and felt like a fool, but he couldn't move away.
"Awareness" she'd called it. Whatever it was, it was potent. If he touched her, would sparks fly? If he touched her, would he want to stop? He couldn't touch her. She was Ray's daughter. Her values contradicted his. Her view of life hurt the ones she loved. His mind told him, Stay away, keep clear, don't get involved. But another source seized him and made his insides riot, urging him to act on feelings he'd suppressed for a long time.
Laura's blood pounded at her temples. She hadn't realized sharing her father's huge house with Mitch would seem this intimate. His top three shirt buttons were unfastened as if he'd begun unbuttoning his shirt while climbing the stairs. Tendrils of black hair swirled underneath. Her stomach lurched. She knew chemistry when she felt it. Maybe because it rarely gripped her like this. She could usually brush it off and go about her business.
Sleeping under the same roof with him shouldn't bother her. The house was certainly big enough. She slept under the same roof as George every night. But that was different. He was a friend. Mitch was a...disturbance.
Was the allure the mystery behind Mitch? The undercurrent between them? The bond of being concerned about her father? His reserved attitude with her but his gentleness with Mandy?
Laura's fingers went to the chain around her neck. Mitch's eyes followed them. She hastily stuffed her hands in her robe's pockets. "Uh...are you going to bed?"
"No, I'm too wound up."
The deep huskiness of his voice made her start chattering. "I know what you mean. My body's exhausted, but my mind's clicking away. Maybe if I crawl in with Mandy, I'll relax. It's going to be a long day tomorrow--" Shut up, Laura. You're acting like a besotted teenager who's never felt hormones stirred up before.
His eyes traveled over her as if imagining her taking off her robe and sliding into bed. She shivered. Sweeping her hair away from her cheek, she turned off the light. Mitch stepped back so she could enter the hall. He walked with her to the doorway of Mandy's room.
When she stepped over the threshold, he stayed in the hall but peeked inside. Laura's pink bra and teddy lay on the bed, her pantyhose and jumpsuit sprawled across the chair, her shoes stood next to the dresser. A neat bedroom wasn't one of her virtues. She expected Mitch to comment.
"Mandy has a visitor."
Laura didn't understand for a moment until her gaze followed his. Puffball was curled on the spread next to Mandy's knees. "She sleeps with Mandy at home."
Mitch rested his hand high on the door frame just above her head. "I always thought cats were independent."
He was long all over. Long fingers, long arms, long legs, long waist. Catching herself before she could dwell on a picture of him naked, she responded, "They're like people. They project an aloof image but they crave affection and attention too."
"Not everyone craves affection and attention."
"That's a macho attitude that causes more problems than it's worth." She knew she should watch her tongue but she'd never done that very well.
No longer looking casual, he took his hand from the polished wood. "It has nothing to do with macho. It concerns priorities."
"What priority tops your list?" she challenged, wondering why had he the power to rouse her.
&n
bsp; "The business. Creating beautiful pieces of jewelry."
"You don't need someone to hold you and hug you and tell you you're wonderful?"
His body language became defensive as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Talk show psychology doesn't interest me."
She blew out a breath. He sounded just like her father, who denied his feelings at all costs. "Psychology has nothing to do with it. Feelings do. Human beings need warmth and each other." She looked Mitch up and down. "But then maybe you and my father are the exceptions. Steel hearts. Nothing can penetrate them." She thought she'd outgrown the bitterness, but she could hear it in her voice.
Mitch didn't defend himself. "You don't know your father if you can say that."
How she wanted to. Her throat constricted and she knew tears weren't far behind. "If I don't know him, it's because he never let me in." Reaching for the doorknob, she said, "Good night, Mitch. I'll see you in the morning."
When she shut the door, she leaned against it and took several deep breaths. After a few moments, she heard Mitch's footfalls grow faint as he walked down the hall.
***
Sipping coffee from a paper cup, Mitch covertly watched Laura. Her canary yellow slacks and orange sweater with yellow flowers made her the center of focus in the drab waiting room. A middle-aged man across the room glanced at her every few minutes and looked as if he'd like to start a conversation. She seemed oblivious to him and her surroundings, her chin tucked down as she read the novel she'd begun on the plane.
Mitch drained his cup and stood. "Laura, I'm going for more coffee. Would you like a cup?"
She put her book on the chair and rose. "No, but I'll walk with you. I can't get my insides to settle down."
So she was worried. He studied her face. Little if no makeup. A hint of copper shadow over her eyes. A touch of lipstick. She looked pale.
His elbow grazed her arm as they walked down the corridor; he wondered if he'd get used to the jolt of electricity he felt each time they touched, however innocuously. "I wonder how it's going."
"I wish they'd give us half hour reports or something."
Mitch hooked his thumb in the pocket of his khaki trousers, considering the best way to approach a subject they needed to discuss. "I talked to Ray's cardiologist when he decided to have the surgery."
She looked at him, her grey eyes wide with interest. "What did he say?"
Mitch had expected her to be defensive. "The operation briefly stops the heart. That's quite a blow to absorb. Ray's outlook when he comes home is vitally important. If he sees himself as an invalid rather than a recovering patient, it will take him longer to get back on his feet. Psychological recovery is as important as physical recovery."
"I can't see my dad acting as an invalid," she said wryly.
"It depends on how he looks at his life--if he focuses on what he can't do rather than what he can do. Heart bypass patients often spend the time reevaluating their lives and sometimes get depressed because their life hasn't been what they wanted or planned."
"Did the doctor tell you this?" She appeared surprised he knew as much as he did.
He had pored over medical literature, learning what he could about Ray's chances of surviving surgery, complications, aftereffects. "I've done some reading. Family support and involvement in recovery is as important as medication and post-op care. And he needs plenty of time for recovery. If he pushes it because he thinks he has to get back to work, the stress can be damaging."
She didn't slow her step. "I'll be staying the six weeks. I called the district manager this morning before we left. But six weeks is all I can manage. He made it clear if I stay longer, I won't have a job when I go back."
Mitch was relieved. If Ray wanted her here, she was important to his recovery. Trying to reassure her, he said, "I'm sure Ray will give you money if you need it--"
She stopped, her eyes flashing silver. "I don't want his money. I'm not staying to get paid."
Mitch didn't understand either the sadness or anger reflected in her glare. Did she feel she'd managed the last six years without him well enough that she didn't need to accept anything Ray had to give now? If that was her attitude, Ray would suffer. He was a generous man who liked to share his affluence.
"Did you know Ray gives a good bit of money to local charities?"
"You think I fall into that category?"
Damn! He hadn't meant for it to sound like that. "Of course not. I just meant if you give him the chance, maybe he'll forget the past and help with Mandy. Education is expensive."
Laura's color heightened, putting swaths of pink on her cheeks. "Mandy needs love and affection and quality time spent with her. We'll manage her education when the time comes."
Mitch didn't understand the vehemence of her words or her frustration. Of course Ray would spend time with his grandchild, given the chance. Laura's "live for today" attitude would hurt Mandy more than anyone. "Damn stubborn, aren't you?"
She looked as if she was going to explain, then changed her mind. "As stubborn as my father. If we come to an...understanding, it will have nothing to do with money."
He wondered what it did have to do with.
At the coffee bar, Mitch asked, "Sure you don't want a cup?"
"What's in my stomach now doesn't want to stay down." She waited until Mitch had paid and was holding the coffee in his hand to ask, "You don't want me to have anything to do with the business, do you?"
Why lie? "No."
"Why?"
She didn't pull any punches. He could be just as blunt. "Because Ray and I have an agreement. We have our own method of doing business, keeping bookwork, etc. You're going to be here six weeks. If you reorganize, it will take that much time after you leave to put everything back in order."
Instead of getting prickly or irate as he expected, she said simply, "I know how to run a jewelry store, Mitch."
Careful not to burn his tongue, he took a sip of coffee, then lowered the cup. "You know how you run the store you oversee. We don't work like a chain store."
"So you feel my input would be unnecessary and uncalled for."
Part of him wanted to let her down easy, but the other part that felt a pull toward her directed his answer. "You can oversee the employees and sell as much merchandise as you can, but it would be better if you stayed out of the business."
"How do you know that's what my father wants?" she countered, with a threatening look that indicated she'd do what she damn well pleased if she had anything to say about it. "When he asked me to stay and help out, you were as surprised as I was."
"He wants you near him, Laura. That's all. Why can't you see that?"
She pursed her lips and shook her head. "You don't know what you're talking about."
Her attitude confused him. Sometimes she acted hurt, other times angry. What did she have to be hurt and angry about? She was the one who ran away with the love of her life. Ray hadn't deserted her...she had deserted him.
Mitch ran his hand over his jaw, noticing a patch that wasn't as cleanly shaven as the rest. He'd been distracted this morning, distracted by thoughts of Ray's surgery, and he had to admit, distracted by thoughts of Laura dressing in the room down the hall.
"We'd better get back to the waiting room," he said.
She nodded and he noted her fingers went to the gold chain around her neck. She did that often. Had her husband given it to her? Was it a talisman? Did it give her strength? He fought the growing need to know more about her as they walked back down the hall. But the more he learned about her, the more disturbed he felt. Was it her complexity? They were sitting in the waiting room, pretending to be interested in a TV talk show when the cardiologist entered the room dressed in his green scrubs. Mitch and Laura rose at the same time and crossed to him.
After Mitch introduced Laura to Dr. Carlson, the doctor said, "The operation was successful. Only a double bypass was necessary."
"When can we see him?" Mitch asked.
"This evening wo
uld be best. And only for fifteen minutes at a time. Leave your numbers with the desk. There's no reason for you to stay now. If there's a problem, I'll call you."
"Is a problem likely?" Laura's voice shook.
"I don't expect anything. But I can't give you a guarantee. If you don't hear from me, come in around seven."
The cardiologist left and Mitch turned to Laura. She had wrapped her arms around herself and her lower lip quivered. He wanted to pull her close and push her away at the same time. It was damned unsettling. "He'll be fine, Laura."
The tears that trickled down her cheek were almost Mitch's undoing. She wasn't trying to hide them and he wished he could let his emotions flow as easily. The past few hours had tied him in knots but a jog or a game of racquetball would have to be his release.
A tear rolled down her nose. Compromising with himself, he dropped his arm across her shoulders. But when she turned into his chest, his other arm enclosed her naturally. Too naturally. She was warm and small against him. Comfort her, a small voice said. But a ripple of need percolated from his head to his toes. The involuntary sexual tightening told him to drop his arms and step back, but she was leaning against him. Her hair smelled like the gardenias that had scented the bathroom last night. Contrary to his resolve to withdraw, he couldn't help slipping his hand under it to finally feel its texture. Soft and thick. Seductive. Just like the rest of her.
He smoothed his hand down her back. The ribbed knit of the sweater emphasized the straightness of her spine. His thumb slipped and he felt her bra strap. Only one hook. It must be another wisp of a thing like the one on her bed last night. When his fingers reached her waist, he realized his hands could almost span it.
Her heart beat fast. As her breast pushed against his chest, he imagined holding it in his palm. Blazes! Why couldn't he control his thoughts? He sucked in a breath and stood perfectly still, his arms around her stiffly.
She raised her head and stared into his eyes. There were questions there. It didn't matter. He dropped his arms and stepped back. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. The gesture reminded him of a child's.
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