by Susan Fox
Lorna wouldn’t confess to him that the months of worry about her increasing contact with Kendra had affected her appetite.
Mitch came to his feet and loomed over her. “I’ll put some ice in this cloth, then I’ll see what you’ve got to eat around this place.”
He strode away and she sat up in alarm. She cautiously touched her temple, but felt only a faint bit of pain. Sitting up had made her dizzy, but she turned to put her feet on the floor, determined to intercept Mitch and force him to leave.
And why wouldn’t he just leave? His orders and threats had been traumatic enough, but now she couldn’t get rid of him. And his concern confused her. He’d spoken to her earlier as if she was dirt under his feet, so his concern now was not only a shock, it was deeply suspicious.
Pride wouldn’t permit her to allow someone who hated her and had just tried to lure her into an extortion charge to do kind things for her.
She reached for the check then got up and walked unsteadily to the kitchen. Once she got there, she stopped in the doorway while she waited for her legs to strengthen.
Mitch Ellery was a dark giant in her pristine kitchen. As in the living room, his larger-than-life presence dwarfed everything around him. He’d already loaded the washcloth with ice cubes, but he now had her refrigerator open and was peering inside.
Since she hadn’t yet gone grocery shopping as she normally did on Friday nights, the refrigerator was humiliatingly bare. He glanced her way, his face a thundercloud of disapproval.
“No wonder you aren’t eating. You’ve got little more than condiments and a half quart of milk that went out-of-date two days ago.”
Lorna crossed the room and plucked the cloth-wrapped ice cubes out of his huge hand to toss them into the sink before she gingerly tucked the check back in his pocket. When she boldly reached between him and the refrigerator to catch the top of the door and crowd him out of the way so she could close it, he caught her hand.
Her wide gaze flew up to his. She gave her hand a testing tug, but he held it fast.
Mitch was so big, so virile, and so powerfully male. The small space in front of the refrigerator was smothering suddenly. The cool air from inside the open door had no impact on the heat between their bodies or the arrows of attraction that peppered her skin and made her feel hot and edgy inside.
His voice was gruff and low and it stroked her someplace deep. “It’s a wrongheaded idea, but we’ll go to a restaurant.”
“No, we won’t.”
His dark brows lowered in irritation. “You need to eat. We’ll get that swelling down, then go.”
Lorna yanked at her hand and he released her. “I wouldn’t cross the street with you.” Her chin went up the smallest bit. “And I believe I’ll call your bluff about that blood test, Mr. Ellery. Since you’re obviously a take-over artist, you can make the appointment and I’ll be there.”
His eyes suddenly glittered with temper and she felt herself sway.
“And I’ll call your bluff, Miz Farrell. You’ll have that blood test. But right now, I’ll call your other bluff.”
With that, he leaned close. She managed a half step back before he swept her up in his arms as if she was no bigger than a small child. The quick movement made her head spin, and she reflexively gripped his wide shoulders. He seemed to sense he’d made her dizzy, so he didn’t move right away to carry her out of the kitchen.
He was growling again. “What am I gonna do with you?” His minty breath sent warm puffs of air against her face.
“You can put me down and leave,” she got out.
He studied her face, his irritation deepening. “Stubbornness and persistence can get you into all kinds of trouble. As you’ll find out if you don’t agree to back off with Kendra.”
Anger roared through her. “Ditto, Mr. Ellery. Put me down.”
“Fat chance.” He turned with her and stalked back into the living room to deposit her on an overstuffed chair.
The phone jangled on the table next to her. Lorna was mildly surprised that he didn’t snatch it up. She reached over and picked up the receiver as he towered in front of her.
Melanie’s worried voice came over the line. “Are you all right? I haven’t seen him leave.”
Lorna glanced up at the rock-faced man who watched her, his dark brows lowered in a surly frown.
She realized then that Mitch Ellery wasn’t a handsome man. His features were too rugged and rough. But he had a charisma that made him as magnetic and appealing as men whose features were smoother and more conventionally handsome. Perhaps more so.
Amazed that she’d been distracted by those thoughts, she glanced away from him. “I’m all right and yes, he’s still here,” she told her friend, then looked up at her unwanted guest as an idea sparked. “But he refuses to leave. If you’ll come over with your pepper spray, he might change his mind.”
Mitch’s expression went thunderous again. Lorna watched as his stern mouth moved to shape a succinct profanity.
Melanie’s, “Oh my gosh!” was as fervent as if she’d actually heard the silent word across the phone line. “I’ll be right over.”
“We’ll give him five minutes, then come over.”
“And you’ll explain why you gave him five more minutes when I get over there, right?”
“Right.”
Mel hung up and Lorna reached over to put the receiver in its cradle.
“You need to leave now, Mr. Ellery,” she said as she leaned back in the chair and looked up at him. “My friend lives across the hall, she doesn’t own a can of pepper spray, but she’s fiercely loyal and very protective.” She couldn’t help a weary smile. “You could very well find yourself on the drive home reeking of either cooking spray, furniture polish or the soap scum remover she might substitute.”
“Can she make you a sandwich? Get your blood sugar up?”
The questions were another surprise and hinted that he felt at least a particle of genuine care. And that touched her. Lorna felt her resentment toward him mellow.
“I’m sure she can do better than a simple sandwich. She’s a fabulous cook. Which reminds me. She might bring over a wire whisk or a potato masher. Have you ever seen what a wire whisk or a potato masher can do to the average tyrant? They’ve done all sorts of studies, and the photographs are pretty gruesome.”
His formidable expression eased, and she sensed something in his stern personality give way. The faint curve of his harsh mouth was probably as close to a real smile as she’d ever see from him. But if he was truly amused, he didn’t remark on it.
“She’ll look after you tonight?”
The caring that implied was suddenly painful for her and her faint smile dropped away. “Why on earth would you care?” The words were out before she’d thought them through.
Suddenly he bent down and braced his big fists on the chair arms. His face was very close now and the thrill that whirled over her was shockingly sexual.
“If not for this thing with Kendra, I might have found you…interesting.”
It was a blunt admission that shocked her to her toes. She fumbled for a way to answer that.
“And what will you find when the blood test proves that Kendra is my sister?”
Now he was angry again because his expression seemed to turn to stone in front of her. “It won’t.”
“It will, Mr. Ellery. And when it does, it won’t change a single thing, because Doris will never acknowledge it.” Saying that out loud sent a flood of old hurt surging up and she felt her eyes sting. She struggled to defy it, her gaze never wavering from the harsh lights in his as she declared, “In fact, unless I miss my guess, Doris will never submit to a blood test herself.”
“She will because it’ll put an end to you.”
She’d made him angry again and saying that was his retaliation. The smile she gave then was not a true smile, it was more of a grimace that eased some of the painful pressure in her heart.
“She sent you here with a check to put
an end to me. That’s the only end she wants.”
He straightened, his dark eyes cutting into hers as if he was measuring her in some way.
“Get something to eat. I’ll be in touch.”
Lorna didn’t respond to that and he reached over to pick up his Stetson from the coffee table. He put it on and tugged down on the brim. It was a cowboy version of goodbye that was almost polite.
“You’ll hear from me about the test,” he said, his low voice now almost a warning.
“I’ll look forward to it,” she said. “But don’t hold your breath waiting for Doris’s consent.” She’d nicked his temper again, because his dark eyes glittered with it.
As if he was making a silent declaration, he pulled the folded check out of his jacket pocket, then tossed it to the lamp table out of her easy reach before he turned and strode out of the apartment without a backward glance.
Aggravated about the check but relieved he was gone, Lorna got up and walked to the bathroom. The small swelling was so minor it was almost nonexistent. It was merely a faint graze and would probably be completely healed by morning. Why had he fretted over it as if it was some grave wound?
She heard Melanie call out as she entered the apartment, so she called back, “I’ll be out as soon as I change my clothes.” Lorna stepped into the bedroom and shakily found a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. She gave her mussed hair a quick brushing, then went out to join her friend.
“I was watching at the peephole, so I saw him,” Melanie reported as Lorna came into the living room. Mellie lifted her light brows and made her green eyes go wide. “And wow. Kinda like a mix of John Wayne, Tommy Lee Jones and a Minotaur. Not handsome, but…awesome. And, dare I say it? Sexy,” she declared with a sparkling glance. “No need to explain the extra five minutes, amiga, but are you all right?”
Lorna laughed at that, suddenly feeling worlds better than she had in ages. She’d survived Mitch Ellery and he’d virtually decreed the blood test that, if nothing else, would prove she wasn’t a liar—or at least that she was willing to have her honesty put to a definitive test. Perhaps it was good that he’d left the check. It would feel even better giving it back to him a second time than it had the first.
“I’m fine,” Lorna said. “Pretty great, actually. I’ll tell you all about it over pizza. You can choose the toppings this time.”
“Sounds good. You want to call or should I?”
“I’ll buy, so you can make the call.”
While they waited for their pizza to be delivered, Lorna began to tell her dearest friend almost everything about Mitch Ellery. Almost everything, but the stunning attraction she felt.
Why she suddenly couldn’t confess that one thing when she’d confessed nearly everything else in her life to Melanie—was a surprise.
If not for this thing with Kendra, I might have found you…interesting.
It shocked her to realize how tantalizing that was. And how much she’d like to be the focus of his interest.
Mitch’s iron-willed protectiveness toward her sister—even though it was aimed at protecting her sister from her—was as much an indication of his character as his formidable personality and his reluctant, kind care when she’d fainted.
Men like Mitch Ellery were all too rare; she’d understood that five years ago. He’d scared her then, and he’d scared her today. But the glimpse of tenderness in him tonight had deeply affected her.
I might have found you…interesting.
What would it have been like to capture his interest? If she’d caught his eye in the usual way women caught men’s eyes, what would he have been like? There was a certain rough-edged gallantness about him, and even as they’d shaken hands that day when he was clearly furious to see her, his grip had been gentle. And he’d touched her tonight in the most tender way.
For a man of his size and brute strength, the contrast between his power and his touch was breathtaking. The memory made her skin tingle as it had then. What would it be like to have someone like Mitch Ellery in her life?
Eventually her speculation waned. The truth was, she hadn’t got his attention in the usual way. His mission—and he’d made that mission shockingly clear—was to bribe her to leave San Antonio.
A whisper of fresh fear skimmed over her heart. If Doris wouldn’t do her part with the blood test, it was certain Mitch would bring some other pressure to bear if she didn’t quit her job and clear out.
Wealthy, powerful tyrants like Mitch Ellery had a legion of legal help at their fingertips. And men like him were socially influential. The right word in the right ear could destroy everything she’d worked so hard to get and ruin her chances for good things for a long time to come.
Choose a happy life, Miz Farrell.
The silly half-fantasy about winning his interest suddenly seemed as foolish as it was futile. She must have hit her head harder than she’d thought. By the time her friend had gone home, Lorna was caught in a grip of melancholy that grew so dismal later that she laid in the dark a long time and worried about what more Mitch Ellery could do to force her out of her sister’s life.
CHAPTER THREE
LORNA slept in that next morning to make up for her lost sleep. After a late breakfast of cold pizza, she started a load of laundry in the small washer in an alcove of her bathroom. Frustrated that Mitch dominated her thoughts, she threw herself into her Saturday chores before she left the apartment to run errands.
She dropped off clothes at the dry cleaners and picked up the batch she’d left there the Saturday before. A fast trip to Wal-Mart was followed by another to her favorite grocery store to take care of the shopping she’d not had time for on her way home last night. It was midafternoon when she got home.
Living alone and having to carry everything across the mostly full parking lot and up a flight of stairs in one trip was a challenge that was also part of Lorna’s normal routine.
After draping her dry cleaning over her arm and carefully gathering up the handles to the various plastic bags that contained her purchases, she made her way across the sun-scorched parking lot to the back door of the building. She’d reached the sidewalk when a big man came around the corner and strode purposely toward her.
Mitch Ellery was dressed like a real cowboy in a blue plaid shirt and denim jeans worn soft. The black Stetson he wore had a more common look than his pearl-gray one, and the black boots he had on today carried the scuff marks of daily wear.
From the stern line of his harsh mouth and the faint scowl that darkened his gaze beneath the hat brim, he looked like he meant business. If he’d been wearing a six-shooter, the black Stetson combined with his tough-guy ruggedness would have made him look like an Old West outlaw.
His dark eyes showed a gleam of disapproval. “You gotta lazy man’s load,” he said bluntly as he smoothly relieved her of everything but the dry cleaning.
Lorna’s quick move to snatch back the bags was quelled by his curt, “I’ve got ’em.”
“I haven’t invited you in, Mr. Ellery. Nor do I plan to.” She gave him a stiff smile as she again reached to hook her fingers through the handles of the plastic bags to reclaim them. “But thanks for the show of chivalry.”
The minute her fingers were laced through the handles, Mitch shifted his grip, managing to neatly trap them. Tiny shocks radiated from his firm hold and her wide gaze flashed up to the glittering darkness in his.
“We can either stand here the rest of the afternoon, or you can invite me in,” he growled.
“We have nothing to say to each other, so there’s no reason to invite you to do anything but leave.” Lorna straightened her fingers to tug them free of the bag handles, but Mitch’s grip was too strong.
“You and I need to talk.”
His expression was grim and Lorna sensed a new threat. “The only thing I want to hear from you is the date and time for the blood test.”
“You’ll hear from me Monday about that. Right now, we’ve got a new problem.”
Lorna
did her best to appear unimpressed. She heard his frustration with her when he added darkly, “It’s about Kendra.”
As if he knew she’d cave in at the mention of Kendra and a problem, he loosened his grip on her fingers. Lorna pulled free. “What about Kendra? Nothing’s happened, has it?”
Now his harsh look eased fractionally. “No problem beyond a damned fool idea that involves you. Which is why we’ll have a talk. Now.”
Relieved Kendra was all right, Lorna decided that she’d had enough of his dictates.
“Listen, Mr. Ellery. You might give orders at your ranch, but you aren’t allowed to rule the world. Whether you have a particle of respect for me or not, you’ll at least go through the verbal motions of good manners or you’ll be invited to go straight to hell.”
The faint shock that showed on his face for a space of a second was wiped away by a mighty frown. He hadn’t expected her to stand up to him and he clearly didn’t like it. She’d never in her life spoken to anyone like that, but something in his autocratic manner warned that she’d better learn to or he’d run over her without a second thought.
His expression went stony. The time it took him to swallow his pride and make an effort to frame a proper request seemed insultingly long.
Which sent her temper soaring. “You can either sit my bags on the sidewalk for someone else or you can keep them.”
She turned then and dug her key out of her pocket. Since his hostage takeover of her purchases wouldn’t work on her, he could decide if he liked the food and the toothpaste and toiletries from Wal-Mart enough to be stuck with them. Hopefully he’d just put down the bags and leave.
“Miss Farrell.” His voice was low, and Lorna stopped to glance back. “You must think I’ve got the manners of a…”
He paused to search her flushed face, as if trying to gauge how far he needed to humble himself. She raised a dark brow and he finished on a growl.
“…a pig.”
Stifling a surprised laugh, Lorna came right back with, “If you have any evidence to disprove that, you’d better speak up quick.”
Again he seemed to hesitate, but then he spoke, the words coming out as tonelessly as if he were reading them off a cue card.