Laura asked, "Do you want to change positions?"
He shook his head and sat cross-legged fashion with Puffball across his thighs. If he concentrated on the cat, he wouldn't think about the woman.
Sure. Except when her fingers accidentally grazed his knee, except when her face was so close he could lift her chin and kiss her, except when the scent of her perfume made more potent by the clinging moisture practically inebriated him.
All in all, the process took about ten minutes. But to Mitch it felt like a lifetime. As soon as the cat was as dry as possible under the circumstances, he stood and opened the door. Puffball streaked down the hall to Mandy's room. He noticed Laura had wrapped her arms around herself. He watched her closely and she shivered. It took most of his self control not to pull her into his arms and surround her with his body heat.
He said, "I'll light a fire so you can warm up. I'm sure Mom already has tea brewing."
As he turned to leave, Laura's voice stopped him. "Mitch, thanks for your help. Puffball's important to Mandy."
"I know." He grinned. "But not even Mandy's going to get that animal to sleep under the covers." When Laura smiled, her upper lip moved to the side in an enticing way. Mitch said abruptly, "See you downstairs."
***
Laura kissed her daughter good night, petted a still damp Puffball, changed into her nightgown and robe, and thought about Mitch running down the hall after the cat. She giggled again. Somehow, at that moment, he hadn't seemed so straight-laced. And sometimes when he watched her with those intense blue eyes... How she wished she could read his mind.
The first floor was quiet when she reached the foyer. Listening closely, she heard the soft buzz of voices in her dad's quarters. But not Mitch's deep baritone.
She stepped into the living room and saw Mitch poking at a log on the grate. Flames spurted and spread. Stepping away, he closed the mesh curtain. He'd changed into jeans, and his red and black checked flannel shirt looked worn and soft.
He saw her immediately. "Ready for bed?"
The question took on more meaning than it should have. She felt her cheeks flush as her breath caught in her throat. "I decided to be warm and comfortable," she finally managed, sitting on the sofa. She noticed the mug of tea on the coffee table. It had a touch of milk just the way she liked it. Doug had never done that for her. He'd been as independent as she. She didn't serve him; he didn't serve her. Maybe they'd missed something. The caring felt nice.
"The fire should help you warm up."
"Dad and Nora don't want to enjoy it?"
"They're busy playing dominoes." Mitch sat next to her.
Silence seemed preferable to conversation. It was like that with Mitch. She and Doug had chattered incessantly. They were always on the move. With Mitch she could be comfortable sitting quietly. Why was she making these comparisons anyway?
Mitch broke into her thoughts. "There's something I want to ask you."
Her heart beat faster. "Ask."
"The Business Association is hosting a Halloween party on Saturday. Ray thinks we should go. He said you'd know a few of the store owners there. It's at the Country Club."
Would this qualify as a date? No. Mitch had made it clear this was business. "Years ago, the store owners took turns having the party in their homes. Times have changed. Do they still wear costumes?"
Mitch moved his legs so they weren't so close to hers. "Yes. Can you get something together? I'm renting an outfit from a costume shop. If you want to do that--"
"Everything's probably picked over. I have a few ideas. One of them should work." She didn't say more but waited. He didn't really want to talk about the Halloween party.
"Laura, about our discussion earlier..."
Mitch looked uneasy and she knew he was going to turn her proposal down flat. "It was more of an argument."
"I'm sorry I jumped on you like that." The apology was said quickly but with too much sincerity for her to doubt he meant it.
"About the store or about my dad?"
He sighed and settled back into the sofa. "Let's stick to the store for now."
The easier of the two she supposed. She relaxed into the cushions too. "You don't want changes either."
Mitch stretched his arm along the back of the sofa, brushing her hair. "I didn't say that. Change takes thought. I'm not used to doing something because it seems right. I do research and analyze statistics first."
"That's why I want to go to Flagstaff." She moved her hands with excitement as she talked. "To see the operation myself. I truly think this would be good for the store."
"Your ideas for the sales campaign are good and we still have time to implement them."
It took a moment for his praise to sink in. "You're behind me on this?"
His look was dark, long, and said he knew she was going to protest. "On one condition. I go to Arizona with you."
Her heart sank. "You don't trust my judgment."
"Laura, I have to protect your father's interest as well as my own."
He was doing what he thought was right and she had to respect that. But... "Are you going to be open minded about this? Because there's no point in flying out there if you go with a negative attitude."
He crossed his heart and smiled as he raised his right hand. "I promise to go with a positive outlook. Satisfied?"
A promise from Mitch even in jest was a promise meant. She smiled back. "For now." His eyes were so blue, his hair damp from the rain. He always seemed to smell like the outdoors.
Mitch fingered a lock of her hair. "This always looks so fluffy and soft."
"It's still damp." She swallowed and her breaths became staggered.
"Are you warm now?"
"Warm and getting warmer." Her heart pounded harder until she could feel it in her ears. Surely he'd lean closer and bend his head...
He leaned closer, but she was glad she didn't close her eyes. Because he didn't kiss her. He moved away.
***
Mitch sat across the kitchen table from Ray and methodically presented Laura's plans for the sterling jewelry--as methodically as he had used every iota of self control to not kiss her last night.
Ray listened without comment and when Mitch finished asked, "And you think this is a good idea?"
"I think it would bring in younger customers who in the long run will come to us for more momentous purchases."
"What you're saying is my clientele is dying off."
Mitch met Ray's bluntness with honesty. "The store could use the promotion and a steady stream of up and coming customers, if you're thinking about future profits."
"You've wanted to do something like this for the past year, haven't you?"
"I'm not going to tell you how to run your store."
Ray rubbed his chin. "But Laura will. She sees what she wants to change and she changes it. Like a steam roller. She always was." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Except for the year after her mother died. I hardly knew she was around."
Mitch remembered Laura's tears and her confidences. They were precious to him. They might be precious to her father too. "She still misses her mother."
"So do I," Ray returned gruffly. "More than I ever thought I could. We had our differences. I wanted a woman who thought home was the best place to be. It wasn't until after we were married I discovered "home" was much too limited for Patrice. She loved me and Laura, there was no denying that. But she wanted a lot more than us. She wanted to taste everything life had to offer. I had trouble with that."
Ray had never talked about his relationship with his wife. His brush with mortality had evidently given him much to think about. Mitch wondered if Ray had many regrets.
Before he could ask, the older man said with a look of concern, "Laura's just like her mother. Headstrong, willful--"
"Motivated and determined." Why was he defending Laura to her father?
Ray studied Mitch closely. Too closely. "Damn good ideas she has, aren't they?"
"If the jew
elry's the quality she says it is, if the craft village isn't a joke, if they can supply what we want, her promotion's good. But I told her I go along to Flagstaff."
Ray's eyes twinkled. "Bet she had something to say about that, didn't she?"
"Not as much as I expected, but I think that's because we've reached an...understanding."
"You two are as different as night and day."
"In most ways." But in others, they were alike.
Ray stood, went to the refrigerator, and removed a pitcher of orange juice. "What's on your mind, Mitch? You've been itching to say something since you came in here."
Mitch tipped his chair on the back legs then let it fall front. "Laura thinks you don't need her."
Ray pushed his glasses up on his nose and his cheeks darkened as he set the pitcher on the table. "She's wrong."
"She thinks I've taken her place."
"You're like a son to me, boy. You've made life worth living again. When I lost Laura..." He cursed. "Stubborn old fools are the worst old fools. What do I have to do so she won't leave?"
"She's not planning on it. Yet. But it wouldn't hurt to talk to her about it."
Ray sighed and pulled a glass from the cupboard. "We can't talk about serious things. She and her mother always did that. Patrice and Laura were just like Laura and Mandy." Pouring himself a glass of juice, he said, "I'll back her ideas for the sterling campaign a hundred percent. That'll show her the store needs her and we need her. What do you think?"
Mitch thought Ray needed to tell Laura he'd missed her and wanted her back in his life. But Mitch wasn't in the position to give advice. If Laura felt Ray needed her at the store, she'd stay. For six weeks. She'd made that clear.
"That'll work. For now."
***
Uncomfortably, Mitch stood in the living room and ran his fingers along the edge of his red cummerbund. He felt ridiculous. The satin blousy shirt and tight velveteen slacks made him feel as if he belonged in a store window.
When the chimes rang, Mitch called into Ray's quarters.
"I'll get the door."
It would be Carey. He'd stayed for dinner one evening and heard them discussing the Halloween party. Ray had suggested he go along. Mitch didn't think Carey would accept--he had his own friends and places to go. But this trip he seemed at loose ends and had accepted the invitation eagerly. Mitch suspected the reason was Laura. Carey liked her. And she seemed to like him. That idea tightened Mitch's stomach.
When he answered the door, he was surprised by the traditional costume Carey had chosen--brown suedes and a coonskin cap.
Carey grinned. "Expecting Dracula, were you?"
Mitch shrugged. "I never know what to expect with you."
"That's part of the problem, isn't it, bro? I never do what you expect."
Mitch didn't want to rehash the past or get into an argument. He motioned to the living room. "We can leave as soon as Laura comes down."
As if on cue, she appeared on the steps. Both men looked up at the tap of heels on wood floor. Mitch knew he was staring openly but couldn't do anything about it. He felt himself flush as desire took hold of him with an iron grip. Her black leotard clung enough to elevate his blood pressure. Sheer black nylon stockings encased her shapely legs. The long black whiskers painted around her mouth, her pinkened nose and the black plastic headband with two black felt ears created the effect of the most fetching cat he'd ever seen.
Carey responded first with a loud whistle. "All right! You know how to make a fashion statement."
Her gaze never left Mitch's as she descended the steps. "It's called improvisation. Actually, it was Mandy's idea. She helped me paint on the whiskers before she went to bed."
Mitch noticed her false eyelashes and fake scarlet nails as she reached the bottom step. "You went all out."
"So did you."
Yep, he belonged in a store window from the way she was staring at him. "I'll go warm up the car. Come out when you're ready."
Laura and Carey carried the conversation on the way to the party. They seemed to have a lot to talk about from riding a motorcycle to craving chocolate fudge.
When they arrived at the country club and costumed guests milled around them, Laura's eyes sparkled. "I haven't been to a costume party in years. This is going to be fun!"
They entered a room where groups of chairs were clustered around squat tables. A Juliet and Cyrano stood conversing at the bar. Music from the ballroom beyond softly drifted in.
Mitch watched as several men studied Laura. He was shaken by a shock of possessiveness he had no right to feel. It confused him. He'd never felt possessive of Denise. These men ogling Laura... He'd like to personally put their eyes back where they belonged.
They chose chairs near the doorway where they could peer into the ballroom and watch the dancing. Mitch nodded toward the bar. "Can I get you something to drink?"
Carey answered first. "Bourbon."
Mitch sighed to himself. Of course Carey would drink. He shouldn't have expected otherwise. "Laura?"
"A cranberry spritzer."
Mitch strode toward the bar. Carey nudged Laura's arm. "Did you see that look? As if one drink will start a binge."
Laura felt the need to defend Mitch. "It could."
Carey slouched in his seat and stretched his legs out in front of him. "If I wanted to get drunk, I wouldn't have to come here."
"You don't have to explain yourself to me."
He canvassed her face closely. "No, I don't think I do. What's with you, Laura? I'm sure you've heard about me from my mother and Mitch. And most of what they say is true."
"I had my own reputation to contend with. What I felt inside had nothing to do with what I did on the outside."
"Or it had everything to do with it."
She thought about it. "Yes, I guess that's true. I thought I acted spontaneously, but I had hidden motives."
"Don't we all." He sounded sad. Pulling himself up straight in his chair, he said, "I've been many things, but I'm not an alcoholic."
She knew alcoholics denied their disease, but Carey's pale blue eyes and his determined tone led her to think he was telling the truth. "I believe you."
His expression showed relief. "I wish Mitch would."
"Maybe if you stay--"
"I'm leaving in a few weeks."
"Must you?"
"Yes. York's not a good place for me. I've been in too much trouble here. I'm getting my life together now in Virginia. I like it there. I found a group--" He gazed at her as if he wondered how much he could trust her. Finally, he confided, "I'm not an alcoholic, but I am a gambler. I joined Gambler's Anonymous. It's helping. I haven't bet on anything in six months."
"Does Mitch know?"
"No. He wouldn't believe me if I told him. I've lied to cover my tracks so often. I don't blame him. He's always cleaned up the mess. I'm hoping he'll help me one more time. I have a chance to buy into a DVD rental business."
"You want him to lend you money."
"This time it's legit and it will pay off."
"But you have to convince him."
"If he'll just listen to me..."
Mitch returned with the drinks and set them on the table. His eyes were rough and turbulent. "It's time to mingle. Laura, would you like to dance?"
He looked as if he wanted to shake her rather than dance with her. But the idea of being held by his strong arms was too hard to resist. She stood. "Sure."
As he led her into the ballroom with his hand firmly in the small of her back, she smiled at Carey over her shoulder. "We'll be back."
Mitch escorted her to the dance floor, nodding to acquaintances on the way. Laura saw a few people she remembered.
Taking the standard position, Mitch folded her hand into his chest. When his fingers skimmed her breast, tingles skidded down her spine and her eyes shot to his. Something unintelligible sparked there. But like a door closing, the blue became shuttered. He removed himself.
She wanted to
lay her head on his shoulder, but she felt the warmth of his thighs pressing into hers, the sinews of his arm securing her against him, and the heat and her longing for more scared her. Another feeling gnawed at her...
She gazed into Mitch's blue eyes, looking for reassurance, and almost drowned. Her foot caught on his and she tripped. He caught her to him and she could feel his heart hammering as hard as hers.
He loosened his hold. "What were you and Carey discussing so fervently?"
Had her friendliness to his brother put the storm in Mitch's eyes? "We were just talking."
"He was charming you."
"No, we were talking like two human beings who connect."
"Connect?"
"We have a lot in common."
"Don't I know it," Mitch muttered.
"And that means?" she drawled.
"You're both impetuous and impulsive."
"Those are adjectives, not sins."
"Don't let Carey con you into any of his schemes."
"I can take care of myself."
"You don't seem to be able to stand on your own two feet for long."
She went rigid. "Explain that."
"Your father took care of you, your husband took care of you, and now your roommates take care of you. When have you stood on your own?"
She felt as if he'd clobbered her. He certainly didn't know or understand anything about her marriage to Doug. She pulled away and said sharply, "Yes, I look to other people for moral support. You should try it some time. It would make you more...human."
Not waiting for him to follow, she found Carey and participated in the conversation he was having with a voluptuous Cleopatra.
Eventually Mitch rejoined them, anger smoldering in his eyes. At least that's what it looked like. A fast-tempoed number had Laura tapping her foot in time with the driving beat.
Carey smiled and nodded toward the band. "Do you want to give it a go?"
One look at Mitch's impassive countenance and she said, "Sure. Let's do it."
They danced one dance after another until she was nearly out of breath. It would have been tons of fun except for Mitch. Every time she turned around he was watching her, a hungry look in his eyes. She tried to be annoyed by it, but it excited her. Doug had never cared who she danced with, never looked up from his conversation while she was on the floor.
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