by Susan Fox
As if the evening hadn’t gone dismal enough, now she had to face Kendra. And worse, they had to pretend they were a happy couple. Lorna’s distaste for this scheme was already sharp, but she pasted a neutral smile on her face as Mitch urged her in Kendra’s direction.
“Oh, Lorna, you look so elegant and sophisticated,” Kendra declared over the sound of the country band. “The two of you make the perfect couple.”
Kendra fairly radiated happiness and approval. She reached for Lorna’s free hand to give it a squeeze before she turned her enthusiastic smile on Mitch. “Isn’t she gorgeous?”
Lorna felt acutely uncomfortable, but Kendra seemed oblivious to it.
“That she is,” Mitch answered.
Self-conscious, Lorna nodded a wordless greeting to her boss, and John nodded back a hello to her before Kendra went on with a cheery, “Why don’t the two of you join us? We could go someplace quieter if you’d like.”
Lorna automatically shook her head to that and Mitch answered almost simultaneously. “No thanks, sis. We’re off to a late supper.”
“You are bringing her out to the ranch tomorrow, aren’t you?”
Lorna cringed inwardly and Mitch chuckled. “For a private picnic. No kid stepsisters, no spies.”
Kendra crossed her heart with her finger. “I wouldn’t dream of intruding on a romantic courtship in its tender beginnings.”
John Owen spoke up. “I’ve got plans for Kendra tomorrow that will keep her out of harm’s way.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Mitch told him. “I learned my lesson years ago with her.”
Kendra’s face reddened. “That was a long time ago, Mitch.”
“And I’ve got a long memory. I doubt the young lady ever completely recovered from the shock of discovering that a certain fourteen-year-old brat and her friends had just witnessed the awkward start of her first attempt at seduction.”
Kendra gave an embarrassed laugh. “I outgrew that stage long ago.”
Mitch gave his stepsister a mock stern look. “I seem to recall another time about two years ago—”
Kendra laughingly grabbed his jacket to give it a silencing tug. “All right, you’ve made your point. I’ll leave you and Lorna in complete privacy. No interference.”
“That’s right. John’ll see to it this time.” Mitch nodded to John and said to him, “I’ll owe you.”
John grinned. “Just the fact that you never paid her back in kind when I started coming around is enough for me.”
Lorna stood by, listening to the conversation, impatient to be gone. Her head was swimming with the loud music and the shouting to be heard over the noise. She wanted nothing more than to escape this and get out in the fresh air and quiet. And to find some way to cancel Mitch’s plans for a picnic at his ranch tomorrow.
Because she could never go to his ranch. Doris lived there, and the very last thing she wanted was to ever come face to face with her mother again. Surely Mitch was bright enough to understand that without her spelling it out.
Finally, finally, Kendra let them escape the crowd and the noise and her enthusiastic matchmaking. To Lorna’s dismay, her head was swimming worse in the hot, calm air outside the nightclub. The heels she’d bought to go with the dress suddenly seemed precariously high and perilous to walk in, but now that Kendra wasn’t around to see, she let go of Mitch’s arm to walk on her own.
She did fine the first three steps, then managed to catch the sharp point of her heel in a sidewalk crack. Only Mitch’s quick reflexes saved her from more than an awkward falter.
Her belated, “Ooops,” was followed by a spontaneous giggle as she clutched his arm and carefully extricated the narrow heel. Mitch signaled the valet for his car, then gave her his full attention.
“Are you tipsy?” The look in his dark gaze said yes, but Lorna shook her head.
And felt the pavement tilt. Mitch turned fully toward her to catch her other arm.
“We’ll get some food into you. It’ll soak up some of that booze.”
The giggly feeling undermined her. “I am not drunk.”
“No more than you weigh, that double was probably enough to pickle you.”
“I’m not pickled, either,” she told him, and a bit more of the giggly feeling died down, though the world still felt tilted and whirly. “I want to go straight home.”
“Not until you’ve had something to eat.”
A flash of angry frustration made the world shift a little more dramatically, but she managed to defy the sensation and make a coherent point.
“We agreed to twenty minutes on the dance floor. Kendra’s seen us together, and she’s assumed we’re an item. Mission accomplished, I’m going home.” Where hopefully she could think of some way to avoid going to Mitch’s ranch tomorrow. Some way he couldn’t pressure her out of.
“We weren’t on the dance floor longer than five minutes and I already know it’ll take me most of a steak dinner to persuade you to come to the ranch tomorrow. So we’ll go for that late supper.”
Frustration killed off the last of the giggly feeling. Her temper shot high and she glared up at him. She wasn’t aware that she’d grabbed onto the lapel of his jacket as Kendra had done to emphasize her words.
“Look, Mr. Ellery, as I pointed out to you earlier today, you aren’t allowed to rule the w—”
Lorna broke off what she’d been trying to say when Mitch’s hand closed warmly over her fist and made her realize she’d been yanking on his lapel.
“Please, Lorna, have supper with me,” he said, his low voice a quiet rasp. “I’m hungry, the cook’ll be in bed long before I can get home, and I hate to eat alone.”
Lorna stared, transfixed. There it was again, that compelling switch from tyrant to gentle persuader. The sincerity she saw in his dark eyes kept her from scorning the slightly pitiable picture he’d painted of a solitary man going home to a barren ranch kitchen or eating a late, lonely meal in a restaurant while surrounded by couples out on the town.
Her frustration with him eased into a kind of excited misery as she felt herself succumb to the inevitable. Before she completely lost her will, she tried a last, “Please, Mitch, this is foolish.”
He gently lifted her hand off his lapel to kiss her knuckles. The sight of his stern mouth shaping into a loosely puckered line to press lingeringly against her skin was erotic, and the scorching waves that rushed through her made her ache for much, much more.
“Might be the most enjoyable foolishness we’ve ever had, Lorna Dean,” he drawled. His eyes were so somber. Even though the brim of his Stetson shaded his gaze from the dim light of the parking lot, she could see his sincerity and it touched her. “I don’t think I want to pass up a single second with you.”
And then his firm lips pressed tenderly against her knuckles again, lingered again, and she was pierced by the deepest longing she’d ever felt in her life. Slowly he lifted his head, his gaze never breaking contact with hers. She was so shamefully susceptible to him, to this. The urge to cry came from a place so deep and lonely and lost inside her that she was incapable of speech. She only barely managed to keep the burning fullness in her eyes from spilling over as she tried to hold back.
This man was the one she’d been waiting for. Every instinct she’d had about him until now had hinted at it, but suddenly the knowledge was burning brightly in her brain and in her heart. The sad, sad knowledge that nothing but heartache could ever come from spending time with him was quite possibly the deepest of her life.
Though she’d long ago learned the ability to not show tears and was confident of her ability to do so, it was a miracle she managed not to cry. The corners of her mouth felt as heavy as her heart but she made herself give them a trembling little lift.
“It’s no fun to go to bed hungry, I guess.” Though she’d been able to smile when she said the words, they sounded melancholy to her. She saw the gleam of perception that flashed into his eyes and made herself give a laugh to distract him. “You poor
, poor Texas millionaire. I suppose a hamburger drive-though wouldn’t do, would it?”
She pulled her hand from his to make the sensations stop. “Or do you ultra rich Texas boys even know what a drive-through hamburger joint is, outside of your stock portfolio?”
The silence that followed her question was about a half dozen quick heartbeats too long. Lorna couldn’t breathe, but widened her smile as she waited for him to say something that would signal that she’d managed to make him doubt whatever he might have seen of her sad feelings just now.
But all he said was, “The car’s here,” and she was grateful for the excuse to glance away from him to see the valet get out and rush around to open the passenger door for her. Lorna quickly got in and buckled up while Mitch tipped the valet and strode to his side of the car.
Neither of them spoke as Mitch drove slowly through the crowded lot then out into the street.
“So what’s the decision, Lorna? Will you go to supper with me?”
Lorna had a last moment of sanity that ebbed so quickly it was as if it had never happened. Her soft, “All right,” came out on a tide of surrender, but when she sneaked a look at Mitch’s profile, it was grim.
As if he’d sensed her scrutiny, he glanced her way. He reached for her hand and gripped it gently before he faced forward again and continued to drive. Lorna looked down at their clasped hands, and couldn’t seem to resist placing her free hand over his. She did it tentatively at first, felt the firm tightening of his fingers on hers that signaled his approval, then gave in and let her hand settle comfortably.
Her feelings for Mitch were far too strong, but for one of the rare times of her life, she was able to push away the sense of doom and impending heartache. And because it was already too late for her and she might never feel like this again, she simply allowed her fragile, sweet feelings to swell into a few small blooms.
CHAPTER SIX
AS IF he too was caught up in the same relentless sense of inevitability that she was, Mitch was as pleasant and solicitous as if he were truly courting her. Once they’d ordered steak dinners in a small, out-of-the way place Lorna had never been to, they managed to chat on a wide range of subjects from weather to politics.
The conversation was easy and relaxed, but Lorna was cautious and less forthcoming than Mitch was. He had blunt, firm opinions that were entertaining and he was wonderfully well-read. He would probably be at ease and knowledgeable enough to carry on thoughtful conversations with anyone, and that was another enormous attraction for her.
They’d just finished their meal and sat back with coffee, when Mitch asked her what she’d consider a dream job, then listened attentively when she’d lied her heart out.
She couldn’t confess to him that her idea of a dream job was to be a wife and have a home and raise children, so she’d made light of his question, giving him a lengthy list of glamorous careers before she’d turned the question back on him. What would he do with his life if he’d had no family ranch and oil wells, if he suddenly had no fortune?
“Anything with outdoor work and horses,” he answered without hesitation.
“Macho to the core,” she commented, not truly surprised. She couldn’t picture him in an office day in and day out for the rest of his life. “Would you have to be rich or could you be a regular mortal with a mortgage and a modest way of life?”
“Money isn’t everything, but I’d want to make enough of it to raise and educate a family. Maybe buy my wife something nice from time to time.”
Until then, the conversation between them had been fairly mundane, as if they’d both reached an unspoken agreement that prohibited serious personal talk. Lorna had given a frivolous job list, but the moment she heard that, she felt her heart sink at least a mile. Family was her secret goal, the goal she’d waited most of her life to achieve. To hear Mitch declare his job preferences and then to seriously specify that the goal of his income was to raise and educate a family made him even more desirable to her.
But the remark he’d put on the end, Maybe buy my wife something nice from time to time seemed intensely personal and directed squarely at her.
Mitch’s loyalty and protectiveness toward his stepsister and stepmother had already made her envious. To hear this made her envy worse. Perhaps she’d mistaken what he’d said about his “wife,” and her wrong interpretation was nothing more than wishful thinking.
Most of the men she’d dated were caught up in careers. They seemed so unsettled and immature, so focused on material things that home and children were distant considerations. Lorna took none of those men seriously.
But she took Mitch Ellery seriously. Too seriously.
“Did I say something wrong?”
Mitch’s low voice made her face go a little hot but she made herself give a neutral smile. “A lot of men focus on their careers or money. Your answer hinted that your priorities are family and children.”
“Wife and children,” he corrected. The calm study he made of her tense features was slow and thorough. She felt transparent and it was an effort to keep her expression from giving her away. She couldn’t respond to his correction, and she didn’t need to as he went on, as if driving home the point.
“I’ve sowed my wild oats, Lorna. I’m nearly thirty-three. Past time to start the search for a wife and plan for the next generation of Ellery kids. And since I was an only child, I want more than one.”
Lorna hastily lifted her coffee cup and had a sip while she tried to think of a way to answer that. Her heart was reeling, but she managed an awkward smile. “Perhaps your wife will have something to say about that.”
“She won’t be my wife if we can’t agree on the number.”
The mood between them had grown heavy. With just a few blunt words, they were suddenly on a deeper level, and going deeper as quickly as a big rock dropped in a pond.
How about four children, Mr. Ellery, she wanted to say. Or better yet, a half dozen?
Dark-haired children with dark eyes, and at least a couple with blue eyes. Happy, healthy, protected children who’d never lack love and security, who’d never be able to imagine being unwanted or neglected or given back.
And maybe one or two more who were true castaways. Children like her who’d been orphaned and whose extended families hadn’t wanted to take them in. Rejected children who had no one, who were hungry to belong and starved for love. Abandoned children who craved adoption. At least two of that kind, maybe more than two.
Lorna couldn’t say that, but her heart was suddenly shouting it and she longed to know what Mitch might have said if she’d had the courage to say it out loud.
Thankfully the waitress brought the check and Mitch handed her a large bill to cover the meal along with a hefty tip. Lorna was profoundly grateful the deep mood between them had been disrupted. They’d run out of shallow, safe topics and from here on, there was no subject that couldn’t somehow turn back on her to nick her heart or inflame her hope. Now that the meal was over and paid for, they could leave the restaurant and end the evening.
She slid her chair back slightly as if preparing to leave, then rested her hand on her handbag. Mitch’s gaze shifted to take note of her small signals, but he didn’t respond to them.
“What about you?” Mitch asked, his gaze sharp on her flushed face. “Do you want kids?
Her low, “Yes,” was followed by a desperate prayer for a way to change the subject. She didn’t want him to pursue anything to do with family or children, but he was suddenly dogged on the subject.
“Will you want to keep your full-time career and be a part-time modern mommy or are you old-fashioned enough to chuck a work life and stay home to raise your kids?”
He’d asked a genuine question and because he had, it was clear he expected a genuine answer. But it was long past time to stop the direction the conversation had taken. Answering his question with another question was the only thing she could think to do.
“Will you still be a full-time rancher going
out to ride the range from dawn to dusk while your little woman stays at the house taking care of your children?”
Lorna’s gaze held his, though the glimmer in his eyes probed deep into hers.
“You aren’t comfortable with personal questions.”
He’d said it as a statement of fact, but one that subtly compelled a response. So she’d give him one.
“Think about our situation,” she said at last. “Your questions and mine shouldn’t be personal, and neither should our answers to each other.” She was drawn deeper into the intensity in his gaze, and her voice grew softer. “There’s no reason for you and I to know anything about each other beyond basic recognition so we can avoid contact. Which is why this dating sham is such a waste of everyone’s time.”
It relieved her to get it all out, to reestablish some sort of boundary between them, though it made her feel faintly sick to think that theirs would always be a cross-to-the-other-side-of-the-street relationship instead of what her heart told her it might have been.
“And speaking of which,” she added, desperate to draw a firmer line between them, “I said I’d pay my own way tonight. I’ll reimburse you for my half of supper when we get to the car.”
“So you’re anxious to change the subject from husbands and wives and raising kids,” he said, ignoring her declaration about paying him back. The pent-up breath she’d been holding eased out then caught when he went on. “Then we’ll discuss what needs to happen tomorrow.”
He went on briskly as if they’d already agreed. “I’ll pick you up at eight, drive you to the ranch. We’ll take a couple horses out, have our picnic at the creek, but the heat’ll probably send us to the house by one o’clock. I’ll show you around so Kendra has a chance to see us together, then have you back in San Antonio by five, six at the latest.”
Dismay made her fumble her handbag off the table into her lap where she gripped it, more desperate than ever to leave and put an end to the evening. She shook her head.