Baby In A Basket

by Helen R. Myers

  The fact that she didn’t take him seriously reminded Mitch that they were still inching through the trust and confidence arena, but the important thing, he told himself, was that they were making progress. “Friday nights tend to be noisy at most restaurants, but there’s one in a hotel not far from downtown that has a quieter ambience and a great menu. At least, that’s what Neil told me.”

  “You’ve never been there before?”

  “Um, no.” In the past he would have avoided a place where conversation was to be the entertainment of the evening, and he fully expected Jenny to ask him about that. When she didn’t, he glanced over at her.

  “Does that sound okay?”

  “It sounds lovely. Just one question—you don’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight, do you?”

  “That’s definitely not the plan,” he murmured. For either of them.

  When he’d mentioned the subject of dinner with Jenny to Neil, and asked him to suggest a place where you didn’t have to injure your vocal cords or know signing to speak to the person across from you, his friend had given him several of his choice preferences. Neil was known as a husband who got an F in dish washing and an A in making it up to his wife by taking her out for frequent romantic dinners. As soon as they were seated in the dimly lit restaurant, Mitch decided he owed Neil a good bottle of wine in gratitude.

  “This is lovely,” Jenny murmured once they were alone.

  Mitch took one more look around the room that resembled a formal library before focusing on her. “Not too tweedy and reserved for you?” They did appear to be among the youngest diners there.

  “I’m rather fond of tweedy and reserved.”

  Until they’d walked in here, he hadn’t realized that he was, too.

  After they ordered, he touched the ivory petal of the rose floating in the carved crystal bowl. “Nope,” he murmured.

  Jenny’s expression turned wounded. “You don’t like it? I think it’s a perfect touch to offset all the masculinity. And white flowers have always been a special favorite.”

  “I wondered if it was as soft as your skin. It isn’t.” He smiled into her eyes. “Why white?”

  The blush that crept into her cheeks also made goose bumps rise on her bare arms. “I’d better be careful with the wine. I haven’t even had any yet and already I feel as if I’ve drunk half the bottle.”

  Mitch stroked her arm, delighted by her sensitivity to his words. “So why white?”

  “There seems to be a natural poetry to white flowers. It’s at once romantic but melancholy...pure yet mysterious... innocent and exotic.”

  “You do realize that you’ve described yourself, don’t you?”

  As she avoided his intense gaze, her long lashes swept low over her cheeks. “Afraid not. I’m too spirited and feisty. I’m more of a...yellow.”

  He would let her protest all she wanted but his opinion remained firm. “So it’s your grandmother who’s the pink fan?”

  “Isn’t it amazing? She pretends to be so gruff and unflappable, but she’s a marshmallow at heart. You should see her bedroom.”

  “Let me guess, it’s cotton candy pink?”

  “Passionate, powdery, pale or petulant—her room has it all. She’s very unprejudiced about her pinks.”

  Mitch was still chuckling as their wine arrived. Once they were served and alone again, they touched glasses and he murmured, “To tonight.”

  As they tasted the wine, a pianist in the lounge began playing softly, adding to the soothing, intimate atmosphere. Black-suited waiters passed and Mitch noted their discreet glances toward Jenny. He couldn’t blame them. The luster of her hair invited a man’s bands, the V-neck cut of her sleeveless dress, though tasteful, drew the eye to the perfection of her skin. He supposed he should be grateful that the tablecloth hid the rest of her, or there might be some traffic accidents. At the same time it amused him that she didn’t appear to notice.

  He leaned closer until they were elbow to elbow. “So tell me, why the food business?”

  “What a question.”

  “Belated, I know, but humor me. I used to think you were appeasing your grandmother, that she nudged you into it.”

  “Quite the opposite. She wanted me to use my business degree and go into banking or real estate. It’s the look that appealed to her. A woman can be a receptionist or bank teller, some entry position, but if she’s in business attire, my grandmother is very impressed.”

  “And you prefer steamy kitchens and lots of dirty pots and baking dishes?”

  “Are you kidding? Why do you think I’ve gone through two dishwashers since I started this? I chose food because it’s—” she gestured discreetly to indicate the other diners in their periphery “—sensual. The colors, the textures, the reaction on the palate. Food has always seemed a combination of art and magic to me, and at the same time nourishing. That’s why I designed my own labels with their marbled and Monet watercolor tones. I love to sit down after a batch of preserves is done and turn a jar around and around, put it on a windowsill and watch the play of light coming through.”

  “I had no idea.”

  Jenny shrugged. “Maybe no one has figured this out but me, but I keep hoping that my products will make you linger a bit longer at the dinner table with a friend or family member.”

  “A different kind of stress therapy,” Mitch murmured.

  “Exactly.”

  He sighed, thinking back to all those times she’d offered him samples and he’d declined. “Now I feel like a burn for turning you down so often.”

  “It’s just as well,” she replied, her eyes lighting with mischief. “Once you taste my product, you’ll become addicted.”

  “That, I already know. Don’t forget... I have kissed you.”

  It came as no surprise that dinner evolved into exactly the kind of experience Jenny had described. Mitch knew his Caesar salad had never tasted so piquant, his steak more tender, and although he wasn’t the world’s most enthusiastic sweet eater, he insisted they order at least one dessert to share with their coffee.

  When the chocolate torte came with its white chocolate and raspberry sauce, just the thought of getting to feed the delicacy to Jenny, to see her lips part, her tongue peek out to savor every bit of flavor, made him reach for the last swallow of his wine. He knew that all she had to do was see the fork tremble within his fingers and she would know exactly what he wanted to do. Then he met her watchful gaze and knew he’d been set up.

  He leaned his elbows on the table and moved his head in closer to her so that they were almost nose to nose. “Wonder who’s going to cry ‘uncle’ first?”

  “It doesn’t matter, does it? Finding out is what’s going to be fun.”

  It was heaven and hell combined. Their gazes rarely broke, except to close their eyes in ecstasy. Their movements became synchronized, as smooth as a ballet. By the time they’d each had two bites, he could swear he could taste the confection he slipped into her mouth.

  “If I don’t kiss you soon, I’m going to die,” he said at last, his lips barely moving.

  “I know exactly how you feel. But the waiting is delicious, too.”

  Only if you were into torture. In the end, Mitch signaled their waiter and paid the bill. He’d already changed his mind about asking her if she would like to have a nightcap in the lounge and dance. He knew better than to ask for trouble.

  As it was, he could hardly wait for the valet to bring their car up front. The driver’s door barely shut before he shoved the car into gear and took off.

  “Mitch—your seat belt,” Jenny said, concern in her voice.

  “I know.”

  If she hadn’t been able to tell what he had in mind by the way he gripped her hand as he walked her out of the hotel, he thought the tension in his voice surely gave him away. But when he failed to turn onto the busy street, and instead parked in a dark and solitary part of the lot, he could tell she was surprised.

  “Didn’t you think I was serious?” he a
sked, shutting off the engine. Not even waiting to release her from her seat belt, he leaned over in search of her mouth.

  He felt his name vibrate on her lips, her hands skim his chest, his cheek. She might as well have been a sparrow fighting to resist collision. But he wanted that impact. Need was a coil inside him, tightening and threatening to shut off oxygen to his brain, blood to his heart.

  Finally she sensed that...or else she surrendered to her own need. Her hands stilled, her fingers slipped inside his suit jacket, and her lips parted.

  He groaned when her tongue met his. She felt like hot, liquid silk, and he felt her heat through every limb in his body. The fleeting memory that once he’d thought her all sugar and untouchable mocked him. Jenny was sweet, yes, but that wasn’t all. She was as whole a woman and complex as that extravagant dessert they’d just experienced. Now he wanted to experience more of her.

  The kiss kept changing, from exploring, to ravishing, to savoring. It seemed that no sooner had one emotion taken hold than another bubbled up from some deep spring, unending and relentless. Even though he knew he would be wiser to leave her in her seat, he found himself fumbling with her seat belt and his seat levers to slide back and pull her onto his lap.

  “I know, sweetheart,” he murmured when she whispered his name as if in caution. “I haven’t forgotten where we are.” Entirely. “But you feel so good.”

  “You do, too.”

  “Taste so good.”

  “Mmm...”

  “I need a little more.”

  With her half lying across him, he kissed her over and over. As he did, he encouraged her to touch and explore him, just as he intended to add to his frustratingly limited knowledge of her delectable body. Her silk dress was sheer provocation and whatever she wore beneath it felt equally fine. The material whispered to him, much the way she did when he touched her breasts, her hip, her thigh.

  Her restless movements had loosened her neckline. Mitch took that as a blessing and slipped his hand inside.

  “Perfect.” He breathed the word against her lips as he molded and cherished her.

  She arched against him. “Let me feel your mouth.”

  A shudder swept through him. He’d been aching to do that for so long, and without another moment’s hesitation, he lifted her for that intimate kiss. Jenny’s gasp pierced the sultry silence, her fingers tightened to an almost painful grip in his hair. But it was the way she moved, the sensual writhing of her hips against his that warned Mitch of being too close to risk more.

  He tore his mouth from her and pressed her head against his chest to keep her still. “Uncle,” he rasped into her hair.

  Her breathless laugh sounded as strained as he felt. “You’re just being a gentleman. But I adore you for it.”

  Mitch buried his face deeper into the fragrant mass of silk. “Make no mistake, I want you, Jen. I want to make love to you more than I can remember wanting anything in my life.”

  “Desire’s enough, Mitch. You don’t have to—”

  He lifted his head and put his thumb over her lips. “Don’t. Don’t sell yourself short. Whatever you might think, I don’t say things just to get my way. You...” He had to hold her close to him again. “You’re doing serious things to my head and heart, Jen.”

  “I know what it cost you to say that, and I wish I could think of something clever and witty to say to take off the pressure. But all I can think is that I’m relieved ... and so glad.”

  He smoothed back her hair and kissed her temple. “The guy you’re talking about was the old Mitch. One of these days, you’re going to believe that.”

  Jenny smiled up at him. “I’m trying.”

  The longing in her eyes went through him like a laser. “Damn. We should be on that dance floor back there, or I should be taking you to another place,” he muttered, disgusted with himself. “The evening, as they say, is relatively young. What’s more, I should be repaying you for all you do for me. But all I can think of is peeling you out of that sexy dress, wanting to hear the sounds you make as you come apart in my arms.”

  “What I do for you and Mary doesn’t require repayment. And do you really think we could do a very good job on a dance floor right now, McCord?”

  He managed a rueful chuckle. “Not without getting arrested at any rate.” He ended the laugh in a deep sigh, willing the ache to ease. “I wish...”

  “Don’t, Mitch” This time she was the one to pull back. “Whatever you were about to say would be, in a way, regretting Mary. You’ll break my heart if you say you do.”

  “No. No.” He took her hand and planted a fervent kiss in her palm. “I’m getting to the point where I believe I was always meant to have her.”

  “I’m glad.” Jenny stroked his cheek. “But then... what’s wrong?”

  After last week’s run-in with that detective and the subsequent disagreement he’d had with Jenny regarding Savannah, Mitch had tried to avoid any mention of what he was doing. The last thing she needed to hear was that he was sending out feelers whenever he flew into Los Angeles. So far there had been a few promises from people who said they would pass on his number if they heard from her. He wasn’t about to confess as much to Jenny. How he wished he could find a way to resolve this mess without leaving her feeling vulnerable in the process. The problem was, he didn’t think Savannah would surface unless he was out there himself making life uncomfortable for her with his inquiries.

  Jenny...he was in love with her. He didn’t know exactly when it struck him. The first time he’d seen her with Mary? The first time he’d kissed her? All he knew for certain was that this was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The woman he wanted as Mary’s mother. But could marriage work?

  She cared for him, even thought herself in love with him. Unfortunately, he wasn’t entirely convinced she knew what love was. Why, she rarely dated, and he would bet every trophy in his house that she was still a virgin! Jenny could be fooling herself, and that left him with the strong fear that part of her emotions were confused with simple decency. That her compassion had gotten muddled up by sexual attraction.

  Heaven knows, he knew what he was talking about. He’d seen his parents’ marriage wither, decay and die because they let sex lure them into an incompatible relationship, from which none of them ever recovered. That’s what people forgot to think about. It wasn’t just a matter of one woman and one man. If there were children involved, they suffered, too. He couldn’t bear to think of that happening to him, Jenny and Mary. That’s why he had to fight this constant battle to keep his desire and his dreams in check, until things were resolved. Until he was certain that he could have a future and Jenny.

  “Nothing,” he said, kissing her tenderly before setting her back in her seat. “Nothing that won’t resolve itself eventually.” One way or another, he added to himself.

  “Then it’s legality worries about Mary. Am I right? You’re concerned with how to prove she’s legally yours?”

  He didn’t want to get into that tonight, and he didn’t want Jenny worrying about it at all. He knew she didn’t want him to have any contact with Savannah, and he grabbed at the easiest way to stop her from talking about it—at least for a while. “Er...no. Well, maybe before, but not now. I’ve decided to take your advice and go see a lawyer. Brad Tyson told me to do that back when this first happened, but...hell, you know the rest.”

  “I’m glad you’ve changed your mind.” Even in the dark, relief was evident in her expression. “I’m sure an attorney can get you the results you want.”

  Perhaps the legal ones, but only Savannah herself could give him critical answers to the questions haunting him. He just hoped he succeeded in getting them before Jenny discovered he wasn’t telling her everything—and before his determination to keep his hands off her slipped once too often. It would seem time was becoming crucial in more ways than one.

  Chapter Nine

  “Are they crazy? It’s crucial I get back to Dallas tonight!” Mitch
snapped at Neil as the two stood outside the gate to the plane.

  “Hey, I’m not going to be any hero, either, if I don’t get home in time to stay with the kids while Bonnie goes to her friend’s wedding shower, but from the looks of things we both have some phone calling to do. The mechanics said the hydraulic problem looks more severe than we initially thought and they want to keep the plane overnight just to be sure they don’t miss anything.”

  “I know, I know.” This was the second time Neil was explaining this to him, due to his poor attitude over the situation. “And the powers that be want us to stay here and wait for the plane instead of taking back a replacement.” With a heavy sigh, he rubbed the tension building in the back of his neck. When they’d realized all was not well on their approach to LAX, there hadn’t been time to acknowledge the stress building up inside them. Their focus had been on getting the plane and everyone in it on the ground and safe. But now with the danger past, Mitch had one humdinger of a headache building at the back of his neck and the base of his skull. “Hell...at least tell me all the passengers have been rerouted onto other flights.”

  Neil nodded. Despite the fact that he’d been in that cockpit, too, and had a need to get home, he looked amazingly calm and good-natured about the whole thing. “Every last one. That’s the good thing about this happening in late September. Vacation season is over, the holiday season hasn’t begun, and we were going to have a half-empty plane anyway. Come on, Mitch-o. Cheer up.”

  “What for?”

  With a sardonic look, his first officer drawled, “Think of how much worse things could have been.”

  Shame cooled Mitch’s temper faster than a Blue Norther chilling the Texas landscape. He pinched the bridge of his nose and called himself several varieties of fool. “Sorry for being a jerk. Is there anything else we need to do before we head to the hotel?”

  “Everything’s been taken care of. I even called over to our favorite hotel to make sure they had a couple of rooms for us.” Neil adjusted his hat on his head before slapping Mitch on his back. “Let’s get a cab and make the best of a bad situation.”