by Susan Fox
The car moved smoothly along and Lorna tried to relax. She could feel his speculation and that he glanced her way from time to time. Her nerves seemed impossible to calm and she jerked a little when he spoke.
“Like to know what I think?”
The gravelly sound of his voice was soothing, but his question was not. She gripped her fingers together on her lap but didn’t look at him. They were stopped at a red light, so she watched the pedestrians in the crosswalk.
“No, not particularly.” She did look at him then. “No offense, but what you think and what I think won’t affect the outcome of any of this.”
“Maybe not.” His dark eyes were all over her face as if he was searching for something very small and hard to see. She had to look away from such close scrutiny.
“The light’s changed.” She got out, hoping he’d just get them to wherever they were going so they could put in their twenty minutes and leave.
She held her breath until he eased the car into the intersection, then relaxed the tiniest bit when the car picked up speed. But that tiny bit of relaxation vanished when he went on.
“I’ll tell you what I think anyway.”
Her, “I’m not surprised,” was not as prickly as it should have been, and came out sounding faintly amused. But then, he did amuse her somewhat. He was a blunt, out-with-it kind of man, and he was also a minor tyrant used to having his own way. Very likely he was a despot, but instinct told her he was a benevolent despot to those he loved. After all, he must love his stepsister and probably his stepmother, because he was apparently ready to do whatever it took to protect them.
Mitch expelled a long breath that ended on a soft chuckle and she sensed that her retort had pleased him in some way. Or perhaps it was a sound of male weariness. Most men didn’t know what to make of her comments from time to time. Mitch might not either, but he seemed to enjoy them.
Which was another dismal hint that there might have been something important between them if not for everything else. She looked over at him and saw the faint smile that softened his profile as he spoke his mind.
“I don’t think you’re a liar or a hustler.”
She felt her brows go high with surprise. “Thank you very much.”
“You don’t seem unstable or delusional.”
“My goodness,” she said dryly, “such sweeping praise. I must get your name on my résumé as a character reference.”
To her utter surprise, he reached over to take her hand. The move had seemed spontaneous and it shocked her to see that his big hand nearly swallowed hers up. And his grip was gentle. Firm enough to keep her from pulling away, but wonderfully gentle. And that gentleness sent such a huge wave of emotion through her that she felt her eyes sting. What was wrong with her?
Mitch did a very casual turn of the steering wheel and pulled the car into a huge parking lot. He drove up one of the parking lanes straight for the door of the nightspot.
Evidently he’d said all he’d meant to say about what he thought when he’d listed her “qualities.” But she didn’t understand why he’d reached for her hand and held it so warmly. Almost…affectionately.
Her emotions had been running the gamut for months over Kendra, and they’d become particularly intense since yesterday over her encounters with Mitch. Surely that was the reason his gentle grip was having such an emotional effect on her.
Someday very soon, this emotional roller coaster would come to a stop and she could go back to her quiet, humdrum life and an occasional date with safe, low-key men who took her to dinner and later gave her damp, unimpressive kisses, then seemed irritated or crushed when she didn’t invite them past the front door of her building. The pang she felt at the thought made her eyes sting worse.
Lorna was grateful for the distraction when Mitch brought the big car to a stop in front of the nightclub and released her hand to get out. He handed a bill to a valet, then came around to open her door. Resigned, Lorna picked up her handbag and got out.
She looked up briefly into Mitch’s face, saw the no-nonsense set of his mouth and felt a bit of comfort. This was as grim a duty for him as it was for her. She wouldn’t truly have to pretend to be attracted to him, but she would have to keep the brakes on that attraction. That was the grim part for her.
It was probably a tougher prospect for him to pretend to be attracted to her, in spite of what he’d said last night about finding her interesting. The things he’d said tonight were probably no more personal than any red-blooded man’s attraction toward a female who didn’t have to go around with a bag over her head.
As she saw it, Mitch’s performance had to look more realistic to Kendra than hers did, because he’d have to seem convincingly let down and disappointed later when their fling “went flat.” Probably those glimmers she’d seen had been his attempt to either warm up to his role or an effort to get the response he thought he needed to get out of her.
Satisfied that she’d accounted for everything between them, at least on his side, Lorna had taken a step toward the door before Mitch caught her elbow and fell into step beside her to tuck her hand in the crook of his arm.
“Make it look good,” he growled, and he was, of course, right. It was wise to look like a couple from the moment they arrived, whether they thought Kendra was watching or not.
But it was insane to enjoy it so much that your heart went wild with excitement and impossible hope, and you suddenly couldn’t wait to be in his arms, pressed up against the most sexy, dynamic, masculine body you’d ever laid eyes on.
When they stepped inside the crowded nightspot and Mitch shifted his arm to wrap it around her and pull her tightly against his side, Lorna’s heart truly went crazy, and suddenly the only coherent thought in her giddy brain was yippie-ky-iay!
CHAPTER FIVE
TREMBLING from the effect of Mitch’s arm wrapped so wonderfully tight around her, Lorna was suddenly certain that tonight would be one of the biggest emotional mistakes of her life.
Mitch didn’t bother to find them a table. He managed to easily navigate the crowd, his big body both bulldozer and shield for her. And when they stepped onto the dance floor and he turned toward her, he relieved her of the tiny handbag to put it into his jacket pocket for safekeeping. The gesture startled a brief smile out of her, but without missing a beat, Mitch caught her hand, slid his arm around her waist, then pulled her against him.
The sudden, full contact from chest to knee was like coming in contact with a wall of heat and electricity. It was amazing she wasn’t knocked off her feet or burned to a crisp. Her legs went embarrassingly weak, and she peered up at him uneasily, afraid he would detect her response. Neither of them were dancing yet.
Mitch’s dark gaze was focused on hers like a searchlight. She couldn’t bear to look into his eyes and feel his hard body against hers at the same time, so her gaze dropped to stare at the turquoise ornament that secured his string tie. But then the subtle scent of his musky aftershave flooded her senses and her blood thickened and grew sweet with what could only be her first true taste of lust.
“Twenty minutes is either not enough or about nineteen minutes too long,” he said gruffly. “You feel even better in my arms than I thought you would.”
The blunt remark sent heat over her face. Why would he say something like that to her? As if he’d thought about having her in his arms. As if he’d looked forward to it. As if he’d been eager…
She tried to pull back, but the steely arm around her waist didn’t allow her to escape full contact with him. They still weren’t dancing.
“We should find a table,” she told him, feeling a little shaky.
“There don’t seem to be any, so we need to dance.”
At the soft order, she looked up. Even in the dim lighting she could see the fire in his dark eyes. “Dance with me,” he said, still gruff.
But her knees were weak and she tingled everywhere. The self-consciousness she should have felt—that she usually felt—was gone, pushed
away by the intimate cocoon that seemed to have enveloped them in a heavy haze of sensuality. Even the sound of the country ballad that had been so loud just seconds ago was muted. Mitch smiled down at her—a faint smile, but a smile nonetheless—and she saw the blatant gleam of lust in his eyes.
Her gaze flinched away and Mitch started them in the slow dance. His every move was steady and certain, and her idiot body melted more tightly against him. His fingers tightened gently on hers and she felt the hand at her back slide down and linger a bit more boldly lower than she’d allowed any other man’s hand to rest.
The shivery cascade of feeling that went over her from scalp to toe turned hot and pooled deep. Desperate to counteract the sensation, Lorna tried to think of something to distract them both. “Do you see Kendra?”
She looked up and was again snared by the warm gleam in Mitch’s eyes.
“Not yet. Why?”
“The whole point is for her to see us together,” she said, then glanced away to see for herself.
“It won’t look right if she sees either of us searching the crowd for her,” he pointed out.
“I didn’t mean that we should make it obvious.”
“You’re nervous.”
The gravely pronouncement was completely accurate. “Why wouldn’t I be?” She hesitated then added, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Maybe not, but like I said, I’m not sorry to be here.”
Lorna made herself stare at his shoulder. “If that’s meant as a compliment, you need to know it’s not. Unless what you mean to say is that you haven’t been out dancing in a long time, so that wasn’t a personal comment.”
“Why not?”
“You seem to be a reasonably intelligent man. I’m sure you can figure it out.”
She felt the slight tightening of his fingers on hers and the subtle flex of the hand that rested just short of too low on her back, and was prompted to look up at him. She saw the somber study he made of her face and couldn’t escape the quiet probe of his gaze.
“I realize you’re the one who’ll pay the biggest price, and I regret that. More than you know.”
The understanding in his eyes—the sudden hint of bleakness there—made her like him even more and she was compelled to put a stop to it.
“I’m thirsty. Could we get something to drink?”
Mitch stopped dancing right away but kept her hand in his as he led her through the dancers. The ballad had stopped and the band began to tune up for a rollicking number that began just as they reached the edge of the dance floor.
The bar was crowded but Mitch found a bar stool near the end of the long counter and gallantly helped her up on the high perch. He angled in between her and the next patron but kept a proprietary hand at her back. He glanced at her to prompt her request, raised dark brows at her choice of a double “anything,” then signaled the bartender and ordered two whiskeys.
He leaned closer to her when the bartender moved away to get the drinks. “I didn’t picture you a fan of hard liquor.”
“I’ve never had hard liquor in my life.”
A slow half smile softened his rugged face. “If that was meant as a compliment, you need to know it’s not,” he said, repeating her earlier words. “I don’t like to think that I’ve driven a teetotaler to drink.”
Now that he’d repeated her words, something playful in her made her answer with the question he’d asked her. “Why not?”
“You seem to be a reasonably intelligent lady. I’m sure you can figure it out.” His eyes were dancing with that, as if he enjoyed the small bit of banter. It was incredibly flattering that he remembered her every word. And it was some sort of consolation, because she doubted very much that she’d forget a single word he’d spoken to her. Ever. Which was something else that made her feel melancholy about the situation.
“How big is your ranch?” she asked, then caught herself. She’d meant to change the subject and get him to talk about something normal, but she suddenly doubted he’d consider questions about his ranch appropriate, not when it was probably one of the largest in the area. She’d already got the strong hint that he jealously guarded Ellery property and wealth enough to be vigilant against potential gold diggers.
And, sure enough, some of the dancing light went out of his eyes. “Big enough that you can’t ride a horse across it in a single day.”
She glanced away from him, grateful that the bartender was setting their drinks in front of them. Mitch moved his hand from her back to reach into a pocket for his wallet. Lorna picked up her drink while he selected a bill that he tossed on the bar. She couldn’t relax, particularly once the wallet was put away and Mitch’s hand returned to her back.
Then she remembered that she’d said she’d pay for her own things that night. She set down her drink without a taste, then asked for her handbag.
Mitch pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over. She took it with a soft thanks, then promptly opened it to pull out a bill that was half the amount of the one he’d paid with.
“Put your money away,” he groused, but she ignored the order and discreetly tucked the bill in his jacket pocket.
“I said I’d pay for my own.” She looked up to make eye contact. “And the question about your ranch was to make polite conversation. I wasn’t trying to figure out how much you’re worth so I could make a play for you.”
“I could be generous both in bed and out with the right lover.”
The blunt surprise of that took her breath away, and her feelings for him began to frost over. “I don’t take lovers.”
“You didn’t drink hard liquor before tonight, either. What’s changed?”
Frustrated that she was worse off with him in the bar than she’d been in his arms on the dance floor, she faced forward and reached gamely for her drink. Anticipating the bite and burn of the drink, she lifted the glass and cautiously sipped.
And choked a little anyway. Her eyes watered as if she’d turned on a fountain. She grabbed for the napkin and pressed it beneath one eye and then the other before she forced herself to take another sip.
Mitch’s low chuckle sounded at her ear and she felt the warm gust of his breath on her cheek. “Tryin’ to drown what’s eatin’ you?”
Her raspy, half-choked “Yes” made him chuckle again. Angry and frustrated and feeling idiotic and trapped, she forced down the entire drink, then shakily set the glass on the bar and pressed the napkin harshly against her mouth. She wasn’t certain an X ray would be able to detect what was left of her scorched esophagus and stomach. But her stomach was probably still there because now it was pitching wildly with nausea. Lorna didn’t move to so much as breathe as she waited desperately, praying for the nausea to calm before she added a truly humiliating calamity to the events of the evening.
Mitch’s hand slid up her back and closed warmly around her shoulder as he leaned closer. “You all right?”
She dared a small nod, relieved when her stomach didn’t object. She couldn’t look at him, though his face was only a finger space or so from hers.
“I think maybe something to dilute that would be good,” she croaked. “A soda or glass of ice water.”
Mitch chuckled again and she felt hopelessly foolish. He quickly ordered her a Sprite, and she fumbled with her handbag for a couple of dollars to pay for it. She’d barely opened the catch before he smoothly plucked it from her fingers, snapped it closed, then whipped it back into his jacket pocket.
“You’re too stubborn, Lorna Dean Farrell. And I believe you about the ranch.”
“Then please stop testing me. I thought you’d concluded I wasn’t a gold digger. And, for your information, not every woman who makes less money than you do covets your fortune. Besides, even a gold digger would think twice about facing a dragon to get his treasure, so you’re reasonably safe.”
His use of her full name dawned and she finally looked at him. “How soon did you hire the private investigator?”
“The minute I t
ook Kendra home Friday and could get to a phone.”
The Sprite was delivered and paid for, so she reached for the glass. “And what information did your money get you?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Lorna Dean Farrell, middle name the same as her adopted mother’s maiden name. Quiet, well-behaved, six foster placements.”
“You got access to my juvenile records?” She searched his face warily. “Is that legal?”
“Want to hear more?”
Suddenly heartsore and embarrassed, she shook her head. “No. Never mind.”
Mitch leaned his forearm on the bar to loom close again. “All right, but there’s something I’d like to know.”
He was so close that she could feel his breath on her face. Her gaze was trapped in the solemn grip of his.
“Something your investigator overlooked?”
He smiled faintly then, but didn’t answer directly. “I hope you learned enough about horses from those backyard ponies you used to ride at one of your placements to enjoy the picnic at the creek. Since you’re coming out to the ranch tomorrow.”
Any hope she’d had about her privacy was well and truly dashed if he’d found out those kinds of details about her foster placements. She couldn’t help being impressed by the resourcefulness of whomever Mitch had hired. The fact that she’d done nothing dastardly in her past kept her from resenting the intrusion. At least there was some payoff for having been a “good girl” growing up, though she’d never imagined it would pay off quite like this.
She gave her head a decisive shake. “I can’t go to your ranch. Not ever.”
“Kendra will never believe I could fall for a woman I wouldn’t bring out to the ranch.”
Hurt rose high and she faced forward to sip a last bit of the Sprite before she set it down. And then she abruptly turned away from the bar and slid off the high stool to leave.
Mitch was immediately at her side, but she shrugged away from his hand and led the way past the tables into the main room of the big club to make a beeline for the door. Mitch smoothly took her arm, but before she could pull away a second time, she caught sight of Kendra at one of the tables, waving madly to get their attention.