Sultry
Mary Lynn Baxter
Hot as a Summer NightSince her mother's tragic suicide, Lindsay Newman has watched her wealthy Mississippi family spin out of control. Tired of being a pawn in men's games, Lindsay is determined to become a revel in her own life–and Mitch Rawlins ignites that first white-hot spark. Tanned, shirtless and all-male, he's dangerous, defiant and oh, so tempting….Reckless as Forbidden LoveMitch won't deny his hunger for Lindsay, but the Newmans' new groundskeeper isn't interested in playing games with a spoiled little rich girl. Lindsay's world is the last thing he wants…yet he wants Lindsay herself more than anything. Something sad and vulnerable in Lindsay's golden eyes invites him to reach out and risk his own heart. But, like everyone else in the Newman household, he's got something to hide. Something that could tear Lindsay away from him forever.
He was too old for her, in years and in experience.
As far as the world was concerned, he’d lived a lifetime compared to her.
He had to stop thinking of her in such a personal way. More than that, he had to get her out of his place now, before he did something he would regret for a long time to come.
He didn’t want to lose his job. He liked working here. He had hoped to remain here as long as he wanted. When he got bored he would move on. That was the way he liked it—no ties that bound, no one to worry about but himself.
Until he’d seen Lindsay, that is.
He wanted her. No use denying that any longer. But he wanted a lot of things he couldn’t have. Lindsay was just another in a long list.
“Good dialog, provocative chapter endings that literally force a page turn, and a streamlined writing style…”
—Library Journal on One Summer Evening
Sultry
Mary Lynn
Baxter
www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)
ACKNOWLEDGMENT
Special thanks to my friend Dr. Laura Horne
for coming to my rescue with her medical expertise.
Contents
Chapter One (#u31d612de-e3d4-5e61-ad52-08e8f6778a2a)
Chapter Two (#u61e49124-4e27-51a9-a7e1-d9e1f1904d31)
Chapter Three (#u1d07c08c-0a13-5402-9247-443298229b3b)
Chapter Four (#u97d2af79-3fee-5e2d-ba1d-57dd35f17641)
Chapter Five (#u5ee61806-a216-5462-87c7-4bda0928c63a)
Chapter Six (#uaccd0c79-4a44-5be4-bec7-a0092f6b1d52)
Chapter Seven (#u7ab0f696-5dbb-5f1e-a15e-ef71def37d08)
Chapter Eight (#u30b821cc-9e54-545c-9770-aa970b5c1f9b)
Chapter Nine (#ua937f6f3-87d0-5316-bea3-bfd249d0268d)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty (#litres_trial_promo)
One
Summer 2000
“Okay, how badly is he really hurt?”
Lindsay Newman tried to keep the tremor out of her voice, but she couldn’t. Her father, a retired heart surgeon, had been injured in an automobile accident. She was afraid the truth concerning his condition had been kept from her.
“Like Tim told you on the phone, it’s not serious.” Peter Ballinger frowned, knitting his thick, dark brows together. “Cooper’s not serious. He’s going to be all right.”
Lindsay peered at her friend Peter long and hard, trying to pick up on any hint that he was lying to her. Her efforts proved futile. Underneath his bland but handsome facade, his conviction didn’t appear to waver. It was then that her insides seemed to turn loose. Before they had been tied in tiny knots. Now she could breathe and function like a human.
“Ah, here are your bags.”
Lindsay looked on as Peter motioned for a bellman to tackle the three pieces of large luggage, all the while continuing to breathe deeply. She couldn’t believe her trip to London with a couple of friends had ended on such a frantic note.
She had been gone almost four weeks when her brother Timothy called and told her about their father’s accident. She had taken the first plane out. Yet it seemed like an interminable amount of time had passed since she’d boarded that jet at Heathrow and arrived in Garnet, Mississippi.
It wouldn’t be long now before she actually saw for herself that Cooper was not in jeopardy; the limo was waiting to take them straight to the family estate.
“So were you having a good time?” Peter asked once the luggage was loaded and they were on their way.
Lindsay didn’t answer for a moment, still irritated at having seen Peter at the airport instead of her brother. However, she knew why Tim hadn’t come. A doctor himself, he was most likely by Cooper’s side, which was where he belonged.
Still, seeing Peter hadn’t been to her liking. Although he professed to love her, she knew better. He wanted her; she wouldn’t deny that—although she suspected it was the family money he wanted more.
Peter was from a family rich in lineage, but short on cash. She thought that a rather ironic situation, since he was a banker, banking being considered a “suitable” position for a Southern gentleman.
And Cooper was urging her to marry this stuffed shirt. She had met Peter at a charity function and ended up dancing with him several times. He’d asked her out the following week, and she’d gone.
Even though she saw him quite often after that, she never considered him anything other than a friend, someone to go out with, no strings attached. He’d been fun, harmless and at loose ends.
Peter, however, had other ideas, especially after he met Cooper. They formed an instant rapport, and Cooper saw him as the perfect match for his daughter.
From then on, Peter turned into a man with a mission, becoming more of an aggravation than an asset. Unfortunately, that hadn’t changed, and she was getting fed up.
“Lindsay?”
Shaking her head to clear it, she faced Peter once again and gave him an aloof smile. “Sorry, I’m having trouble concentrating.”
“I understand,” he said in his smooth voice. “Now that you’re back, what are your plans?”
“I think that should be obvious,” Lindsay said with a slight sting in her tone. “First of all, I’m going to see to Daddy.”
His perfectly shaped mouth stretched into a thin smile. “Of course.”
His words were not without their own sting, and she knew why. While Peter respected Cooper and saw him as an ally, he also resented her father because of her attachment to him.
“I gather you don’t want to talk about us.”
There is no us, she was tempted to say, but didn’t. “No, Peter, I don’t.”
“Dammit, when are you going to think of yourself? Do something for yourself?”
Lindsay’s irritation burgeoned into anger. Nonetheless, she managed to hang on to her control, though her voice was cold as icicles. “I’m happy with my life the way it is, thank you.”
Once she’d said that, Lindsay turned away, hoping he wouldn’t see the flush that covered her features, a tell-all that she hadn’t exactly told the truth. But the demons she was wrestling with weren’t any of his business.
Other than clenching his jaw a bit tighter, Peter showed no emotion. But he dropped the subject and didn’t try to break the silence that fell between them. Finally the driver braked the limo inside the gates of the mansion grounds.
For a second Lindsay didn’t move. It was good to be here. She loved this old home. Her gaze roamed over the huge flower garden set amidst the perfectly manicured grounds of this fine old Mississippi mansion, one that had been in the family for generations. However old it might be, it was in mint condition, having been refurbished and redecorated on several occasions.
One day this estate would be hers. Tim didn’t want it, she knew, having been given several acres of adjoining land where he and Eve had built a lovely home of their own.
“Thanks for meeting me,” Lindsay said, once they were standing outside the vehicle.
Peter nodded, then leaned and grazed her cheek with his lips. “Any time.”
Before Peter made it to his car, Lindsay was inside and dashing up the stairs.
“Lordy, child, is that you?”
Lindsay stopped for a second at the top of the circular stairway and whipped around. “Oh, hi, Dolly. I was wondering where you were.”
The housekeeper’s round face broke into a huge grin. “I was comin’ to the door as fast as I could get there. Only you were faster.” Dolly’s grin fled as she placed her hands on her equally rounded hips. “You don’t look so good. You’ve lost weight.”
“Don’t hover, Dolly. I’m okay. After I see Daddy, I’ll give you a hug.”
“The tea cakes will be coming out of the oven about then. Meanwhile, you skedaddle. He’s waitin’.”
The instant Lindsay entered the master suite, her brother rose to his feet, met her halfway and gave her a brief hug, which she returned. Then her eyes sought the man who was in the bed, propped against massive pillows.
“Oh, Daddy—” Her voice broke as she crossed to his bedside, grasped his hand, then bent and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
“Ah, hell, I’m fine. Don’t fuss so.” Cooper cut his eyes over at Tim. “If I had my way, I’d be on the golf course right now.”
“Dream on,” Lindsay muttered, looking toward her brother, then back to Cooper. “I have to say, you don’t look like you’ve been run over by a truck.”
“I don’t feel like it, either.”
Lindsay scrutinized him. If not for the brutal-looking circles under his eyes, circles that heretofore hadn’t been there, and the purplish spot on his right cheekbone, no one would have known he’d just experienced a life-threatening trauma. Dr. Cooper Newman was still a striking figure.
Blessed with deep-set, piercing green eyes, a thick head of silver hair, and a tall lean frame, he was downright good-looking. When he was dressed for success, no one would guess he was in his middle sixties.
“Well, he has a concussion to prove it,” Tim said in a firm tone.
Lindsay’s gaze shifted back to her brother, who did not have anywhere near the commanding presence Cooper had. Yet in all fairness, Tim, who looked like their mother, Emily, had no trouble holding his own.
Perhaps if he didn’t wear glasses and have a mustache, there might be more of a resemblance between father and son, Lindsay had always thought. At thirty—four years her senior—Tim was tall and fine-looking in his own right, with light brown hair and dark brown eyes, the same as hers—eyes they had inherited from their mother.
“What about his heart?” she asked into the silence, her voice anxious.
“My ticker’s ticking right along,” Cooper snapped before Tim could answer.
Lindsay raised her eyebrows at her brother. “Is it?”
“So far, so good. Other than what’s visible, and the fact that his muscles have to feel like he’s been in a war zone, he came out of the fiasco relatively unscathed.”
“Thank God for that.”
Cooper made a strange noise. “Would you two stop talking about me as if I’m not here?”
Lindsay cut her gaze back to Cooper and smiled. “You haven’t even said you were glad to see me.”
“There was no need for you to come home,” he muttered darkly.
“I disagree. That’s precisely what I should’ve done.”
“Dad’s right, you know,” Tim said. “You could’ve remained in London. I had everything under control.”
“I know you did, but I had to see for myself. Anyhow, I was ready to jump ship, so to speak.”
“Bored, huh?” Tim asked.
Lindsay ignored the mocking smile that seemed itching to break across his thin lips. “A little.” She shrugged, unsure of what else to say. She hadn’t sorted through all the emotions that were warring inside her as yet, so she couldn’t share them with anyone.
“Now that’s a problem I could love,” Tim said.
Cooper snorted, then glared at his first-born. “That is your problem. You don’t want to work.”
“That’s not true,” Tim countered mildly.
So mildly that Lindsay picked up on the insincerity behind his tone. It was obvious Cooper had, too, for he snorted again, this time with more disgust.
Tim’s face flooded with color, but he didn’t say anything.
In order to fill the growing and uncomfortable silence, Lindsay asked, “How long do you have to stay in bed?”
“Through today only,” Cooper said fiercely.
Tim merely looked at him. “We’ll see.”
“No, you’re the one who will—”
“Hey, time out!” Lindsay exclaimed. Then, turning back to Tim, she added, “Now that I’m home, I’ll see that he behaves.”
Cooper’s eyes shone with disapproval. “I’m not at all happy you cut short your trip and deserted your friends.”
Tim held up his hands. “I’ll let you two duke that out. I’m gone.”
“Don’t go. Not yet, anyway,” Lindsay said quickly. “Dolly’s making some tea cakes.”
Tim halted with a smile. “In that case, I’ll meet you on the porch.”
Once her brother had left, another silence descended over the room. Finally Cooper broke it. “You’re a good daughter, Lindsay.”
“I try,” she said, not sure where this conversation was leading. His out-of-the-blue statement took her aback. Rarely did Cooper compliment her on anything. Yet there were moments when he was warm and appreciative of her and what she did for him. These moments she treasured.
But by and large, he made more demands than anything and expected them to be carried out. Within the confines of the house and grounds, one soon learned that Cooper ruled and didn’t like to be crossed.
“Sometimes you try too hard.”
Lindsay almost shivered, thinking how difficult he was to love, and how much he tried to make both Tim and her bend to his strong will.
“How’s that?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
“You know. It’s time you married and had children. You’re certainly not getting any younger.”
How well she knew. At twenty-six, she had never even lived away from home. She had remained here, occupying her own suite. When she wasn’t busy raising money and heading her favorite charity, she acted as Cooper’s hostess when he entertained, which was often.
To the outside world looking in, she had everything money could buy.
“I want you to stop dallying and set a wedding date.”
Lindsay rubbed her forehead. “You know I don’t want to marry Peter.”
“Why the hell not?”
“You know that, too. I don’t love him.”
“So what?”
“Daddy!”
“You’ll learn to love him. It’s that simple.”
Lindsay felt as if she were beating her head against a rock. He was one stubbornly opinionated man. “Simple? I don’t think so.”
Cooper’s features turned cold. “I’m counting on this marriage. Please don’t disappoint me. Do it.”
Two
When Lindsay walked out onto the porch, she paused for a moment, feeling a sudden but added sense of homecoming, thinking that houses without porches were like diamonds without the sparkle. They were missing something truly special.
“Hey, your tea’s waiting.”
Lindsay forced her limbs to move, reaching for the glass of iced tea her brother held out to her. After nodding her thanks, she gazed at the beauty that surrounded her, drawing the sweet smell of roses into her lungs.
Summer.
This was her favorite time of the year, especially on a day when the sun was about to call it quits.
“You look beat,” Tim said, his head cocked to one side, eyeing her carefully.
“I am. Actually, I feel like someone beat me.”
Tim almost smiled. “Not someone, but something—jet lag.”
“That and worry about Daddy.”
“You should feel better about him now.”
Lindsay made her way to the white wooden railing and leaned against it, feeling the gentle breeze ruffle her hair. “I do, but I’m still concerned about his heart.”
Tim sipped his tea, then shrugged. “That’ll always be a concern, that’s for sure. But at least the wreck didn’t seem to put any extra stress on it.”
“I hope that continues to hold true,” Lindsay said in a slightly unsteady voice.
“We both know there are no guarantees in this world.”
Lindsay’s own heart skipped a beat. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
“Nope. At least, nothing you don’t already know. Accident or no accident, Dad’s heart could stop at any time.”
Although Lindsay hated to face that brutal fact, she had no choice. Admitting that, however, hadn’t been easy. Even though Cooper had had several attacks already, caused by a defect that couldn’t be fixed with bypass surgery, she had refused to acknowledge that he wasn’t immortal. He’d always been so big, so full of life, so larger than life, that she couldn’t imagine him not being alive.
“On the bright side of all this,” Tim added, “Dad could live to the ripe old age of ninety-five, going full steam ahead.”
Lindsay sipped on her tea. “He’s definitely in that mode now.”
Tim’s lips twisted. “What’s he on your case about this time?”
“Same old thing, only he came right out and gave me an ultimatum for setting a wedding date.”
“Why the hell don’t you just tell him you’re not going to marry Ballinger, and be done with it?”
Lindsay’s eyes flared. “I already have, but he still refuses to take no for an answer.”
“Well, I’ll admit you have a problem. When the old man digs his heels in, it’s his way or the highway.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Lindsay said.
Tim merely shrugged.
Lindsay crossed to the antique swing, which was comfortably cushioned in a floral pattern. Once she was seated, she held her silence, setting the swing in soft motion.
“Would you be willing to help me out?” she asked at last, feeling her insides unwind.
“Depends.”
“Maybe if you talked to him.” She was testing uncharted waters, as she rarely ever asked her brother for anything, especially when it pertained to something personal. She never felt she could count on him.
“Wow, hold on a minute. You’ll have to take care of this one on your own. It’s your baby, you’ll have to burp it. Besides, I’ve got enough problems of my own.”
She still couldn’t count on him, she thought, and not without a trace of bitterness. “Problems seem to go hand and hand with this family,” she said on an emotional note. “And that shouldn’t be. Both of us have the best of everything.”
Tim cut her a sharp glance. “Speak for yourself.”
Lindsay cringed against the whine underlying his succinct statement. It grated on her nerves.
“Oh, come on, Tim, you should be on top of the world. You have a wonderful wife, a practice that other doctors would die for, since you took over all Daddy’s patients. And what about your side business, your chain of pharmacies? My God, you shouldn’t have a worry in the world, especially a financial one. Yet—” Lindsay broke off when she saw the scowl darken his face.
“I always seem to be broke,” Tim finished with a sardonic laugh. “Was that what you were going to say?”
“Yes, and I don’t understand why, unless you’re still playing the stock market and losing.”
“You got it.”
Lindsay glared at him. “You’ve got to stop.”
“I’m trying, only it’s not that simple.”
She knew her brother was addicted to playing the market. From the look of despair on his features, she suspected he might even have depleted the trust their mother had left each of them.
“It is that simple, brother dear. Just stop playing Russian roulette with your time and money.”
Tim clenched his jaw. “Sorry, I forgot I was dealing with Miss Perfect, who never makes any mistakes.”
Lindsay flushed, then murmured, “That’s a cheap shot.”
“Maybe, but it’s the truth. If things were simple, you wouldn’t still be here under Daddy’s roof, at his constant beck and call.”
“You don’t know that,” Lindsay said tersely, her eyes flashing.
“The hell I don’t. And what do you have to show for getting up every morning? I don’t see you setting the world on fire.”
Following that outburst, Lindsay fell silent, her insides churning. He was right, of course. Who was she to be giving advice? To date, she hadn’t done anything with her own life that counted for a hill of beans, except her work with the women’s shelter. And at times even that failed to use up all her energies.
But she hoped to change all that. In fact, she’d been mulling over an idea for some time now and had worked herself into the excited stage. Even so, she wasn’t ready to share her innermost thoughts with anyone, least of all her brother.
“Look, sis—”
“If you’re about to apologize, don’t. I had it coming. But I wouldn’t count me out—not just yet, anyway.”
Tim didn’t respond. However, a few minutes later, after their glasses of iced tea were empty, he broke the silence. “Do you ever think about Mother?”
That starkly spoken question so surprised Lindsay that, for a moment, she couldn’t say anything.
“Hell, you don’t have to answer that,” Tim said, his features pinched. “Just forget I asked.”
“Of course I think about her.” Lindsay’s chest constricted. “Every day.”
“Me, too.” His tone was harsh, but with a sad undertone.
Lindsay felt a sting behind her eyelids and blinked. She dared not cry—not now, not when she was already feeling vulnerable from Cooper’s accident and his pressuring her to marry a man she didn’t love. If the tears ever started, she might not be able to stop them.
“Do you ever ask yourself why she did it?”
“You know I do,” Lindsay responded softly, staring into the agony twisting her brother’s face, agony that she knew was duplicated on hers.
“Sometimes I hate her,” Tim muttered fiercely, “for what she did to us, to our family. Maybe if Garnet was bigger, without the Peyton Place mentality, it would’ve been different.”
Lindsay curled her nails into her palms and felt them pierce her skin. But that pain was nothing compared to the pain in her heart. Heart pain—through the years, she had learned it was the worst kind. Once it got its grip on you, it wouldn’t let go.
“Sometimes I hate her, too,” Lindsay admitted. “And no matter where we lived, it would not have been different.” Her voice caught. “But she was sick. Believe me, I understand that now.”
“I know you do.” He paused, then added, “God, if it had been me who had…” His voice trailed off.
“Found her lying in her own blood, dead,” Lindsay whispered, barely getting those words out before her own voice faded into nothingness.
Tim blanched, then nodded.
In some respects, Lindsay couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with Tim. Always before, he’d refused to talk about their mother’s untimely and tragic death from a self-inflicted gunshot wound.
At the time, he had retreated into his own shell of personal pain and fear. She hadn’t faulted him then, nor did she now. Besides, she’d been too distraught herself to think about anything other than her own broken heart and shattered dreams.
Even though Cooper was the strong one in the family, the one who made the major decisions, Lindsay had nonetheless adored her mother, even if it had been from afar. She had learned early on that Emily was different from other mothers.
Emily had had deep bouts of depression, which often sent her away from home for long periods. It hadn’t been until Lindsay was older that she realized her mother was in a private sanitarium for treatment, something Cooper was ashamed of and tried to cover up by refusing to acknowledge or discuss his wife’s problem.
Only after Lindsay found her mother’s blood-splattered body and plunged into that same world of dark depression did Cooper respond.
“Lindsay, are you all right?”
Jerking her thoughts out of the past, Lindsay tried to swallow back the panic that suddenly threatened to overwhelm her. No, she wasn’t all right, she wanted to scream. Instead, she made the swing go faster, as if to outrun her mind.
Why now, of all times, did Tim have to bring up their mother’s suicide?
“Of course you’re not all right,” Tim muttered, seemingly more to himself than to her.
Lindsay licked her dry lips. “I’m okay, really. Mother was not something I expected to discuss, that’s all.”
“Me either,” Tim admitted, his weak chin jutting slightly. “I don’t know what the hell came over me.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to feel guilty for talking about her.”
“But I do,” he said harshly. “It all happened so long ago.”
“The summer I graduated from the university and you were in med school,” Lindsay acknowledged in a dazed voice. “Even at that, it seems like yesterday.” Her voice had suddenly turned hoarse, and she cleared her throat.
“Let’s change the subject, okay?” Tim said abruptly. “‘To hell with her’ is the way I see it. If she didn’t want to stay with us, then we’re better off without her.”
“Tim, please, don’t talk like that. What would Daddy think?”
“Who gives a damn? Haven’t you ever considered that he just might be partly to blame?”
“Of course I’ve considered it,” she responded, a wealth of sadness in her tone.
“His stable of women has always been the talk of the town.” His tone was bitter. “Because of that, I’m sure Mother was the brunt of a lot of jokes.”
“Tim, don’t do this, to yourself or me. It’s not healthy, for more reasons than one.”
“You know, life sucks.”
Lindsay blew out a heavy breath, realizing the tiny moment of closeness she had felt with Tim earlier had disintegrated. He was once more his brooding, untouchable self, while she was becoming anxious, a feeling that frightened her. She didn’t want to talk about Cooper’s penchant for women or dissect his role in her mother’s death. It wasn’t healthy.
“I’d rather not talk about this any more,” she said stiffly, voicing her thoughts.
His face darkened. “Ditto.”
Lindsay stopped the swing. “I guess I’d best get back and check on Daddy.”
“Ah, he’s all right. If not, we’d have heard.”
Lindsay didn’t argue. However, she got out of the swing, walked back to the railing and stared into the distance. What a lovely and tranquil place, she thought, aching for some of that tranquility to filter into her soul.
“Why do you stay?”
Lindsay gave her brother a taxing look, trying to curb her temper. Another unsettling question out of the blue. This was a side of Tim she hadn’t seen in a long time. He usually had very little to say to her. “You know why.”
“No, I don’t. He’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He’s just too selfish and ornery to do so.”
“It’s not all him.” Lindsay’s voice suddenly shook. “I’ve never wanted to be by myself.”
“I can understand that.”
A short silence followed his bleak words. Lindsay broke it by saying, “My main concern right now is convincing Daddy once and for all that I’m not going to marry Peter.”
“Well, good luck. You’ve got a daunting task ahead.”
Another silence ensued as Lindsay’s eyes returned to the colorful grounds. It was then that she saw a man sauntering across the nearby lawn as if he owned it. He was a big man, with a loose, long-limbed gait that bespoke of self-assurance, if not a bit of arrogance.
An attractive hunk, she thought wryly, unable to remember the last time she’d been affected by any man. Of course, she wasn’t affected by him, she corrected herself quickly, except in a purely objective way. After all, he was obviously an employee, and much too old for her, to boot.
Still, her gaze lingered. He had a strong, rugged profile, and dark hair that curled slightly at his nape. But it wasn’t his face that held her attention. It was from the neck down.
He was shirtless, and even from where she stood, she could see the contour of his body. And a fine body it was, too.
For a moment Lindsay forgot all about Cooper, Timothy and—especially—Peter. She was intrigued and wondered who the man was, though she had never before taken an interest in the people who maintained the huge estate.
As if he sensed he was being watched, he swung his head sideways, and their eyes met. She was trapped. Caught staring. Her face flooded with color, especially when he seemed to be surveying her with guarded eyes.
What was he thinking? More to the point, why did she care?
Suddenly, his brows arched in a deliberate and dismissive gesture, then he turned his head.
Lindsay didn’t know why, but that look irritated her no end. She had never considered herself a snob, but she felt like putting him in his place, wherever that might be.
She yanked her gaze away from him and back to her brother. “Who’s that man?”
Tim’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean Mitch Rawlins?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”
“He’s our new estate manager.”
“Don’t you mean head gardener?” Lindsay asked in a catty tone.
Tim gave her a perplexed look, then said with a touch of mockery, “I’d say he’s a bit more than that. Why do you want to know?”
“No reason,” Lindsay snapped, even as her hungry eyes once again sought the man out.
Three
Mitchum Rawlins, known as Mitch by his friends, continued to stare at the boss’s daughter. Or rather, the lady of the manor, he corrected himself with a smirk, long after she had turned her haughty little nose up and away from him.
He wondered if she thought her snubbing him made any difference. His smirk deepened as he rubbed his stubbled chin. Having only been working on the estate as its main caretaker for a month, he’d never had the opportunity to meet Lindsay Newman firsthand. Word had it that she had gone to Europe. He guessed her old man’s accident had brought her back home.
While she was in no way hard on the eyes, she caught his attention mainly because everything about her seemed to radiate a restless energy. And usually, where there was energy, there was passion.
Although she appeared on the thin side, she was still well-proportioned. Her small, jutting breasts and narrow waistline bore that out. But it was the strawberry-blond hair swirling around her face that was the eye-catcher.
He would bet anything she had the freckles that usually went along with that coloring. He would also bet she had dark eyes. As for her age, he was less sure about that. He’d put her somewhere in her middle to late twenties.
Finally realizing what he was doing, Mitch let go of a stinging curse, then forced his mind off the spoiled brat who wouldn’t have cared if he took another breath.
The last thing he needed was to have anything to do with Dr. Newman’s daughter. More to the point, he didn’t want anything to do with anyone, especially a woman.
For the first time in years, he was sleeping like a baby. Using his hands, he did an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay. Suddenly Mitch peered down at those large, tanned hands, which were both callused and strong, and thought again what a lucky son of a bitch he was.
When his wife, Wendy, left him and his other job became intolerable, he’d walked away in the opposite direction, leaving behind a world filled with responsibilities and sleepless nights.
Regrets?
None whatsoever.
Anything would beat what he’d done and where he’d been. Now he felt free in every sense of the word. He could grow anything, build anything, repair anything. God-given talents—all of them. And he was using them wisely. The only thing that bugged him was an occasional loneliness, a real need to touch and be touched by another human.
But that feeling didn’t come often or last long. Nope, he wouldn’t change the new direction his life had taken for a minute, nor was he about to let a woman anywhere near him, certainly not an obviously spoiled brat like Lindsay Newman.
Still, he found himself casting another glance in her direction. His stomach tightened. He had never even talked to her, for God’s sake. And yet the intensity of the attraction he felt for her was staggering. It was as if his eyes had caught sight of an unattainable “perfect” woman and a lust-adrenaline cocktail had hit him in the gut.
Well, he would just have to get over it. He was not about to self-destruct over another woman, no matter how hot he was for her.
He turned and stomped back inside his living quarters.
But even after he had slammed the door behind him, Mitch kept seeing the lovely lines of her face, something that made him mad enough to bite a ten-penny nail in two.
What was wrong with him? What was there about her that had brought about the impossible? Stirred him up? Maybe he had been alone too long. Maybe it was time to scratch this sudden itch before it got any farther out of control. Maybe he should call up an old girlfriend and enjoy a roll in the hay. Even if the lady of the manor wouldn’t be interested, he knew several who would.
Nah.
In the end, it wouldn’t be worth it. The price was too high. He would just take a cold shower, drink a cold beer, then crawl into a cold bed.
Alone.
“Still feeling better, Daddy?”
It was the evening after she had returned from her trip that she decided to pay Cooper an impromptu visit. She hadn’t seen him all day, as she’d been busy unpacking, reading through mail and returning phone calls.
Even though she knew he was okay, she couldn’t blot out the morbid trick her mind continued to play on her. She envisioned walking into her daddy’s suite and finding him on the floor, dead, just like she’d found her mother.
“I’m still fine,” he said in a gruff voice. “I wish you wouldn’t fuss so.”
“I wish you’d do like your cardiologist told you and take it easy,” she said. “Which didn’t include playing a round of golf.”
Cooper’s bushy white eyebrows drew together. “I see Dolly’s been running her mouth.”
“That’s right.”
“Well, I didn’t play,” he announced in a petulant tone. “I just rode around with a friend, and I’m none the worse for it. And as you can see, I’m already in bed, though I don’t like it, mind you.”
Probably because he was without a woman beside him, Lindsay thought, recalling her conversation with her brother. Like Tim, would she ever accept the unvarnished truth that her daddy was a ladies’ man, that he had most likely been unfaithful to her mother? She doubted it. After all these years, that fact still rankled. Yet he’d never married again, which had always puzzled her. But then, she had never pretended to understand her daddy, and knew that she never would.
“You look nice, my dear,” Cooper said, bridging the short silence.
“Thanks,” Lindsay murmured, looking not at him but out the French doors.
“Are you about to have dinner?”
“Shortly.”
“With Peter?”
Lindsay smothered a sigh. “No. I’m dining alone, actually.”
“You shouldn’t be,” he snapped. “I’m sure Peter would be more than happy to join you.”
Lindsay wanted to lash out and say that Peter was his pet, not hers. But she didn’t. Instead, she told him, “I didn’t feel like company. I’m still suffering the effects of jet lag.”
“I meant what I said last night, Lindsay.”
So much for her good intentions. However, she hadn’t been called her father’s daughter for nothing. She could be—and often was—as stubborn as he was.
“Daddy, I—”
He held up a hand, halting her flow of words. “I know what you’re about to say.”
“Then let me say it.”
Cooper’s lips tightened. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“I know, but—”
He interrupted again. “It’s past time you were married.”
“That way of thinking is archaic, Daddy. I’m only twenty-six years old, for heaven’s sake.”
“That’s beside the point, and not even the most important issue. No young woman of your prestige and status should be without a husband.” He paused, as if to let his words sink in. “I’ve already pointed that out countless times. How long is it going to take before it soaks in?”
Lindsay flushed and bit down on her lower lip.
“It’s just not proper. Your mother would have agreed with me one hundred percent.”
Lindsay bristled but continued to hold her tongue, again wise enough to know that now was not the time for a final showdown, not when he was recuperating from a nasty accident. Yet his old-fashioned attitude sent her irritation factor soaring off the charts.
“We’ll talk later, Daddy.” She made her way toward the door.
“Good night, my dear.”
She swung back around and smiled, though not with her eyes. “Good night.”
Thirty minutes later, Lindsay was sitting in the parlor, sipping on flavored coffee from the silver pot that Dolly had left on one corner of the table. She had just finished a delicious meal in the small, less formal dining room and was feeling her eyes grow heavier by the minute. Moments after they closed, she heard the doorbell chime.
Groaning inwardly, her lashes fluttered open and she saw Peter standing in the doorway. Oh, brother, she thought, her heart plummeting.
“I hope I’m not intruding.”
“Hello, Peter,” she said, not bothering to hide her aggravation.
If he picked up on it, he didn’t show it. He crossed to the couch and sat down on the opposite end. “Dolly let me in,” he said inanely. “She thought you might enjoy some company, said you seemed lonely.”
Boy, was Dolly in big trouble. “I’m not lonely. I’m exhausted.”
“In that case, I won’t stay long.”
A silence fell between them.
Peter didn’t have to say anything for her to know that he was mentally shifting gears, getting ready for what he hoped was the big and final pitch.
“Lindsay, you already know how I feel about you.”
She deliberately set her cup down on the tray and looked at him. “I know that you don’t love me.”
He was obviously stunned by her bluntness and seemed to scramble for a suitable reply. “You don’t know any such thing.”
“Look, Peter, this is not a good time—not when I’ve just arrived back home and not so soon after Daddy’s accident.” God, did she sound like a broken record or what?
He let out a deep sigh. “All right, Lindsay. But you should know, I’m not going to go away.”
She hadn’t thought he would, not because he loved her, but because Cooper wanted him in the picture. And for whatever reason, Peter seemed content to be led by the nose.
Unwittingly, the thought crossed her mind that the “gardener” she had seen earlier could never be coerced into doing anything he didn’t want to do. The set of his jaw and his air of self-confidence had said as much. But then, like her brother, Peter was weak in many ways. If she were to marry him, they would live in the big house, in her suite, which was something her daddy also wanted.
Would there ever come a time when pleasing Cooper wasn’t important to her? Or would the legacy of her mother’s suicide always force her to feel overly dependent on the one parent she had left, even when he didn’t always deserve the level of her devotion?
“I don’t know about you,” Lindsay said suddenly, “but I need some fresh air.”
Before Peter could respond, she was up, had the French doors open and was out on the cozy side veranda. Peter followed suit with their cups. It was when she reached for hers that her hand froze.
Him. Again.
“Lindsay, what’s wrong?” Peter demanded.
“Er…nothing.” She forced a smile, and with fingers that weren’t quite steady, she took the cup.
However, her eyes never strayed off Mitch Rawlins, who was standing on the front porch of his cottage, leaning against a post. Even though he was too far away for her to see his eyes, she sensed he was also staring at her.
Lindsay’s heart raced, and her palms turned sweaty. Before she could begin to sort through this explosive and unexpected reaction, Mitch pushed his big body away from the post. Yet his gaze seemed to be stuck on her.
She stiffened as a myriad of emotions charged through her. This was the second time she’d seen this man. Both times she’d responded in an animalistic way. Her face flamed. It was purely physical, she told herself, which in itself was crazy.
The feeling would go away, she assured herself, forcing down the desperation closing in on her.
Yet there was something about him, something about his razor-stubbled face and big body, that messed with her hormones. Suddenly she felt torn between her body’s betrayal and her mind’s determination to keep her distance.
“Damn,” she muttered.
Peter gave her a strange look. “Did you say something?”
“Don’t pay any attention to me,” she said lamely. “I was just thinking out loud.”
“Care to share?”
“No,” she said bluntly.
She heard his sharp intake of breath and knew that she’d angered him. But when he spoke, his tone was conciliatory.
“Well, it was a good idea to come outside. The evening’s lovely.”
Lindsay didn’t bother to respond. She was too busy watching Mitch turn and saunter back into his house. Only after he disappeared did she release her breath.
Four
“Good morning.”
When she heard Mary Jane Morgan’s voice on the phone, Lindsay’s face brightened. M.J., as she was affectionately called, had been her friend since grade school. A divorcée with no children, she worked as a paralegal for a prestigious law firm.
“Hey, I was thinking about you,” Lindsay said, reaching for her coffee cup and taking a healthy sip, hoping the caffeine would nudge her into action. She hadn’t slept well; as a result, she felt a tad hungover.
“But not enough to call me, you wretch.”
Lindsay laughed. “Hey, give me a break. I just got home.”
“Excuses, excuses.”
“So when are we going to get together?” Lindsay asked, already feeling much better. M.J. was like a strong tonic. Her jaded sense of humor could cure almost any ills, especially hers.
During the months and years following Lindsay’s mother’s suicide, she didn’t know what she would have done without M.J., who had stuck by her side through the worst of times.
Even though her own life hadn’t been littered with roses, Mary Jane never complained. She’d gotten divorced shortly after she married, having learned her husband was gay. That blow had been so severe, it had taken her a long time to get over it. Now, however, she was on the prowl again, a fact she would readily admit. Her honesty about it tickled Lindsay.
“So how’s the lord of the manor?”
Only M.J. could refer to Cooper in such a manner and get by with it. But she did it in such an unmalicious way that Lindsay never took umbrage.
“He’s still lording over everyone.”
M.J. giggled. “Figures. All joking aside, how’s he doing?”
“He’s good, which is actually a miracle, considering what he’s been through.”
“Then you really didn’t have to cut your trip short—but I’m glad you did. I hate it when you’re gone. I don’t have anyone to whine to.”
“Well, it’s good to know I’ve been missed—for whatever reason,” Lindsay said drolly.
“So what’s up now that you are back? Same old one and two?”
“I hope not.”
“Don’t knock it, my friend. I could handle being spoiled and rich and a lady of leisure.”
“So that’s what you really think of me,” Lindsay said with forced lightness, trying not to take what her friend said as anything other than a joke. “Some friend you are.”
“I’m just green with envy, that’s all. But hey, I was only teasing. You know that. You do more for others than anyone I know—or will ever know, for that matter.”
“I’d do more if only Daddy was more understanding,” Lindsay said. He’s after me big time to marry Peter.”
M.J. groaned. “I thought you had that all settled before you went to Europe.”
“I thought so, too, but I guess I was mistaken.”
“I hope you’re not weakening. Peter’s a jerk.”
Lindsay sighed. “I agree one hundred percent. However, Daddy thinks he’s the man for me.”
“Screw whether you love him or not, right?”
“Right.”
“If it’s grandkids he wants, why doesn’t he go knock on Tim’s door?”
“Because Tim would tell him to butt out in a heartbeat.”
“So why don’t you do the same thing?” M.J. hesitated. “Don’t you think it’s past time? You’re strong now, Lindsay. You’ve come a long way, and you don’t need Cooper like you once did.”
“I know, M.J. It’s just that old habits die hard.”
“What you ought to do is move out of that house, get an apartment.”
Lindsay was silent for a long moment, choosing her words carefully—not that it would do any good. Mary Jane could read her like a book without a cover. “You’re right, only I don’t have the guts. I’ll admit it.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“But I do have something in mind.”
“Oh?” Mary Jane’s voice perked up considerably.
“Don’t ‘oh’ me. I’m really serious.”
“Are we talking about a plan, or what?”
“I guess you could call it a plan. Yeah, that’ll work.”
Lindsay could picture Mary Jane’s petite features scrunched in a frown while the wheels were turning inside her head.
“So?”
“So I’ll tell you about it another day, over lunch.”
“That’s a dirty trick to play on me.”
“Well, it’ll get you out of that office for a little while, anyway.”
“I’m out today.”
“Only because it’s Saturday,” Lindsay pointed out. “And the day’s not over yet.”
“Boy, have you got my number.”
“Just like you’ve got mine.”
M.J. laughed. “So are you going to the shelter?”
“Maybe this afternoon.”
“Any news from there?”
“No,” Lindsay said. “But then, I haven’t called Rita.”
Rita Thomas, director of the women’s shelter, was another person Lindsay adored and could identify with, the main reason being that they had both suffered great heartaches in their lives.
Even though Lindsay hadn’t been associated with the shelter all that long, her newest charity project had quickly turned into one she was quite passionate about.
“Call me when you’re ready to share the big secret.”
“Actually, my news involves the shelter.”
“That’s great, especially if it keeps you out of the shrink’s office.”
“So far, so good,” Lindsay said.
“Well, I’ve certainly seen a difference in you since you took the shelter under your wing.”
“We’ll see if it pans out.”
“My, but you sound mysterious.”
“Well, you’ll just have to put your curiosity in cold storage for a while longer.”
“Whatever. Meanwhile, get rid of that prick Peter.”
Lindsay’s lips twitched. “Yes, ma’am. Talk to you later.”
The instant she placed the receiver back in its cradle, her smile fled. She wished Mary Jane hadn’t mentioned Peter again. The thought of him could ruin her day.
She got up and stretched. When Mary Jane called, she had just finished dressing in leggings, a long shirt and her running shoes. Now she was ready to hit the outdoors. Losing sleep had definitely put a damper on her body and her spirits. However, a trek outdoors would remedy that. It would also serve as a morale booster for when she approached Cooper later with her idea—something she didn’t have to put off, since he was definitely on the mend.
Still, it wasn’t a discussion she was looking forward to.
A few minutes later, Lindsay strolled through the kitchen. “Morning, Dolly.”
“Mornin’, child. Want some breakfast?”
Lindsay kissed her on the cheek. “Not until after I exercise.”
Dolly snorted, her black eyes looking Lindsay up and down. “That’s the last thing you should be doing. You need some meat on those scrawny bones.”
“Don’t start. Exercise keeps me sane.”
Dolly merely sniffed this time, but kept her silence.
“So where’s Daddy? Has he been down?”
“Hours ago, or so it seems. He’s having coffee with some of his men friends.”
“That’s a good sign.”
Dolly positioned her hands on her hips. “You should worry more about yourself than him, you know?”
“I know.”
Lindsay smiled, walked out the door, and immediately wavered. For a late June morning it was hot and muggy, a rarity. The eighties was the norm. She shuddered to think what the remainder of the summer would bring. She considered returning to her room and putting on shorts. But she didn’t. It wouldn’t hurt her to perspire; if nothing else, it would clean out her pores.
Suddenly Mitch Rawlins came to mind, and her good mood instantly disappeared. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from wondering if he ever broke a sweat. Somehow, she doubted it. After all, he had a crew to do the manual labor.
That was why, when she rounded the corner of the big house and saw him in the flesh, she pulled up short, barely able to keep her mouth from flying open.
She was shocked enough at having come upon him unexpectedly, but the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt made matters worse. And droplets of sweat were flying off him as he dug a shovel into the rich earth.
She stood mute and swallowed hard. What to do? For some inexplicable reason, she wanted to turn and run. Yet she wanted to stay put, too. The latter won out, especially when he stopped what he was doing and faced her.
“Mornin’,” he said in a low, mocking tone, though he was looking at her with something akin to a fluid passion that seemed to link them.
“Hi,” Lindsay responded in a breathless voice, while her eyes—half wild, half afraid—stared greedily at him.
Was her face red? Probably. She couldn’t stop staring, totally captivated by his six-foot-plus frame, her gaze homing in on that bare chest matted with dark crisp hair that curled its way down to his navel, stopping at the waistband of his jeans.
And though she had no intention of taking her gaze any farther, she did, then jerked her eyes upward again, warmth climbing into her cheeks.
Heat boiled inside her suddenly, and her insides felt scalded. Jerking her gaze away from him, she schooled her features to show none of the turmoil raging inside her.
“You’re Lindsay Newman,” he said in a low, easy-sounding voice.
Lindsay forced her eyes back on him. “And you’re Mitch Rawlins.”
He gave her another mocking smile at the same time that he took several fingers and wiped a thick layer of sweat off his forehead. Besides having a billboard body, his face was easy on the eyes, though not handsome in the true sense of the word. His features were too strong and his beard too heavy, giving the impression that he needed a shave, which in itself was a bizarre turn-on.
His eyes were a dark blue, complementing his dark hair, which had a gray streak running through it, another turn-on. While his looks had certainly garnered her attention, it was the fact that he was actually working the ground himself that upped her curiosity another notch.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked, interrupting the growing silence.
His words were pointed, which boiled her blood again, but for a different reason. “I can’t think of anything,” she said, forcing a casualness to her tone that she didn’t feel.
“Well, then you won’t mind if I get back to work.”
His straight-from-the-hip directness drew both her anger and her admiration. “What are you going to plant there?”
He paused, raised his head, and though his lips twitched, she couldn’t say he was smiling.
“Do you really care?”
This time that directness hit a raw nerve. Nonetheless, she didn’t blink. “Not really.”
The corners of his sculptured lips rose in a real smile. “Didn’t think so.”
Even if she’d wanted to move, she couldn’t have. The power of that smile held her feet to the ground. “I guess I’ll see you around,” she finally managed to say.
He leaned on his shovel. “Probably will.”
She watched the sweat trickle down his belly before she lifted her eyes to his. Though the contact was brief, it was lethal.
“Have a good day, you hear?”
His drawling words broke the spell and jolted her into action. She turned and took off, her heart beating faster than her feet could possibly run.
Five
“Ouch!”
Lindsay figured Cooper and Dolly had heard her muttered groan of pain. She’d been in the small office in her bedroom suite all morning, going over her upcoming charity commitments. But every time she moved, she winced with pain, either silently or out loud.
Her shins were a mess. In fact, she had shin splints worse than she’d ever had them. She had no one to blame but herself for this predicament. Following her less than satisfying encounter with Mitch Rawlins, she had started to jog, thinking it would work off some of her frustration.
The problem was, she got carried away and took her stress management too far. She ended up jogging six miles instead of the three she normally did. Now, two days later, she was still paying for her over-industrious whim. Still, it had made her feel better, even though thoughts of Mitch Rawlins had run alongside her.
What was it going to take to strike him from her mind? Right off, she couldn’t think of anything. Disgusted, Lindsay turned back to the computer screen, to the words she’d typed. If she wanted to remove them, all she had to do was hit the delete key.
Voilà! Gone. Poof. Like magic. Too bad she couldn’t do the same with her erotic thoughts of Mitch Rawlins.
If only Peter attracted her in that way, then maybe there would be hope for them. But there was nothing about him that turned her on. The few times he’d kissed her, she’d felt nothing.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t tried. She had—admittedly more for her father than for herself, which in itself was wrong. Nonetheless, a future with Peter, for whatever reason, was not in the cards. But that didn’t mean she didn’t want a man in her life, though the thought of deeply caring about someone else and the responsibility that carried sent her into a panic.
She also panicked when she asked herself a hard question. After the real-life nightmares she’d lived through, could she ever sustain a lasting relationship with a man? What if… No! She wouldn’t sabotage herself like that—not when she’d been doing so well lately, especially now that she had a project in the making that she felt passionate about.
Speaking of passion… Her tummy suddenly flip-flopped as once again her mind betrayed her. She wondered if Mitch was married. She hadn’t seen a ring, but that didn’t mean anything. With luck, he would be attached, which would put the brakes on her thoughts as nothing else could.
On the other hand, if he wasn’t attached, then… Stop it! she told herself. So he had a great body? So what? She’d dated others who looked as good. Well, maybe not, but nearly. The one guy she’d been crazy about in college, had even gone to bed with, had had all the right stuff. Or so she’d thought. Obviously there had been something missing, because their relationship hadn’t endured.
Maybe it was Mitch’s eyes, she mused. They were such an unusual shade of blue, which made them seem mysterious. When he’d stared at her that last time, she had wished she could dive into those eyes and learn all his secrets.
Lindsay shivered, wondering if he thought the same thing about her. Talk about secrets—her heart was crowded with them.
Suddenly tired of this craziness, Lindsay lurched up, only to groan again, having forgotten how sore her body was. Damn, but she was more out of shape than she’d imagined. Maybe she should be the one putting in some quality time on the other end of that shovel. She would bet Mitch could run forever and not know it. He looked in perfect physical condition.
She shook her head, clearing him from her mind. He was the groundskeeper, for heaven’s sake. Even if she wanted to have sex with a man, it wouldn’t be with him.
She peered at her watch and decided now would be as good a time as any to talk to Cooper—something she’d intended to do two days ago. And though she dreaded it, postponing it wasn’t going to make it any easier.
Five minutes later, she knocked on his door. No answer. Frowning, she turned and made her way very gingerly down the stairs. She hoped he wasn’t on the golf course, for more reasons than one.
Dolly was polishing the bottom part of the banister. When she saw Lindsay, she stopped and shook her head in disapproval.
“Don’t say a word,” Lindsay warned.
Dolly rolled her black eyes high and around. “You younguns don’t have any sense. None of y’all. Just beat up on your body when there’s no call for it.”
“I know, Dolly. I’m guilty as charged.”
“You need to see a doctor.”
Lindsay tried to smile. “What I need is to stop hurting, and no doctor can remedy that.”
Dolly merely shook her head, all the while muttering to herself.
“Do you know if Daddy’s here?”
“He’s on the porch, finishing his lunch.”
“Thanks.”
Moments later, Lindsay eased onto one of the colorful plush settees that faced Cooper.
“Well, I see you’re still crippled,” he said, eyeing her up and down.
“Don’t you start. Dolly’s already put in her two cents’ worth.”
“And well she should,” Cooper responded briskly.
Lindsay took a deep breath, trying to catalog her thoughts. “Do you have a minute to spare? I’d like to talk to you.” Before Cooper could say anything, she went on. “And it’s not about Peter, either.”
“That’s all right,” Cooper said in a condescending manner. “We’ll save him for another time.”
Red hot anger surged through Lindsay. She wasn’t fooled. She knew what was going on inside his head. Cooper saw her rebellion as a whim. He thought if he was simply indulgent and patted her on the head, she would come around to his way of thinking.
“Go on,” he said into the silence, putting down the newspaper. “I’m listening.”
Lindsay unclenched her fingers. “I had been thinking about this before your accident, only I hadn’t acted on it. Now I want to.”
“What are you talking about, Lindsay?”
His impatience was obvious, but she overlooked it and went on. “You know how much I’ve enjoyed the benefits I’ve reaped from working with the women’s shelter.”
“Yes, though I can’t for the life of me see why. It would certainly not be my choice for you.”
This was going to be harder than she’d figured. His mind was already closed. But she wasn’t about to turn back now. Besides, she didn’t really need his approval; she just wanted it.
“Anyhow, there are some women at the shelter with children who could and would do better if they had any kind of help at all.”
“You mean other than what the shelter provides?”
Although Cooper’s tone sounded almost terse, at least he was listening. “That’s exactly what I mean. As you know, the shelter’s only temporary—a stopgap measure, if you will.”
“So I can assume you’re about to suggest something more permanent, right?”
Dismissing his patronizing and less-than-serious attitude, she forged on. “As a matter of fact, I am. I’m envisioning a place where those special families can live, go to school and access child care—all at no cost to them.”
Cooper laughed, though without humor. “Surely you aren’t serious?”
“I’m as serious as I’ve ever been about anything.”
“Place? What kind of place, for God’s sake?”
“A campus of sorts. Different buildings for different needs. Apartment-style complexes, a free-standing day-care center—” Lindsay broke off, her eyebrows coming together in a frown. “At this point, I’m not really sure. It’s still sketchy in my mind.”
“In my mind, it’s preposterous,” Cooper sputtered, color surging into his face.
Lindsay knew he was getting angry, but she didn’t care—as long as that anger didn’t harm him. She’d gone this far, and she wasn’t pulling back now, even though it would have been easier just to give in.
“The primary aim of this venture or program or whatever you want to call it would be to get these young parents out of the welfare system and help them become contributing members of society.”
“While that all sounds good, I don’t see it working.”
“Why not?” Lindsay demanded.
“Because it’s never worked before.”
“No one’s ever tried what I’m proposing before.”
“My point. That’s because it won’t work.”
Lindsay’s eyes sparked. “I disagree. I think it will work and work well.”
“So call our congressman and tell him,” Cooper said in an offhand manner. “Let him pursue it.”
“I don’t want to call our congressman,” Lindsay said, her voice tight but even. “I want to spearhead it myself.”
Cooper lunged to his feet. “That’s the craziest notion I’ve ever heard.”
“It may be crazy, but it’s not impossible.”
“Just say I thought it was a good idea—which I don’t—” Cooper added quickly “how the hell do you propose to pull it off?”
“With lots of money and lots of time.”
“Your money and your time, right?”
Lindsay didn’t so much as blink under the harsh glare of his criticism and censure. “That and grants. There’s all kinds of money out there. You just have to know where to find it, then how to get it.”
“And I suppose you do?”
She ignored the mocking edge in his voice and said, “Of course not. I don’t have all the answers yet, but it’s something I really want to try. Something that will give my life direction.”
“That’s baloney. Your life has direction. When you and Peter marry—”
“Don’t, Daddy. Peter’s off-limits.”
“As far as I’m concerned, this poppycock idea is what’s off-limits.”
“I thought you might even be willing to donate some of the money,” Lindsay said in a dull tone.
“Like hell!” Cooper raged. “I don’t want you that involved with those kinds of people, you hear?”
Lindsay blanched, mortified at his choice of words. “‘Those kinds of people’?”
“Yes,” he hammered on. “You’re a Newman. You’re meant for bigger and better things.”
“Like what?” she asked fiercely, fighting off her disappointment and forcing back the tears. She’d had such high hopes that for once he would see things her way, support her in just one thing she wanted to do. She should have known better, she told herself, bitterness coursing through her like poison.
“Like marrying Peter and making a home for him,” Cooper said into the reigning silence, his tone grim.
Lindsay’s chin jutted. She was determined not to waver from her game plan. She refused to be lured into another blazing gunfight about Peter. Besides, when Cooper got on his high horse, like now, there was no reasoning with him.
“And acting as my hostess,” he went on. “Something that is damn important to me. Which reminds me, now that I’m feeling like my old self again, I want to have a dinner party. Not a large one, but a party, nonetheless.” His eyebrows shot up. “Need I say more?”
No, but she was about to. “Why haven’t you remarried, Daddy?”
Lindsay knew she’d shocked him again, but that was okay. That question was one she had wanted to ask for a long time but hadn’t had the courage to. Now it just slipped out, and somehow it seemed to fit the natural order of things. Cooper loved to entertain, and he loved women. In her mind, the two were closely linked.
“I intend never to remarry,” he said coldly.
“Do you think that’s what Mother would’ve wanted?” Lindsay asked, fishing for something that even she couldn’t identify. She blamed Tim. He had scraped the scab on an old wound that had never healed. Now it was festering again.
Cooper’s features turned more frigid than his voice. “I’d rather leave your mother out of this conversation, if you don’t mind.”
“But I do mind,” she said, her eyes wide and questioning. “You never want to talk about Mother, what happened to her—or to me, for that matter.”
“You’re right, I don’t. End of discussion.” He got up and strode back into the house.
Lindsay withdrew her gaze from his rigid back and stared into the distance. But nothing was visible. Her eyes were too full of tears.
Six
Tim rubbed the back of his neck. He felt awful, like he’d been drinking for days and was being punished with a humdinger of a headache. He wouldn’t have minded the pain, if only he could say he’d reaped the benefits. Unfortunately, he hadn’t had a stinking drop of alcohol.
Eve. She was to blame. She had caused this roar inside his head, and judging from the way she was glaring at him through her dove-gray eyes, she was just getting started.
“I’m waiting for an explanation, Tim. And not very patiently, either.”
“What if I’m not prepared to give you one?”
She set her teeth, making her face appear more pointed than it normally did. She was an attractive woman, though not beautiful in the true sense of the word—not like Lindsay was beautiful. Maybe “pleasing to the eye” was a better way to describe his wife.
“Well, I’m not prepared to accept that.” Her tone was filled with sarcasm, something that was rare for Eve.
Under most circumstances, she was the quiet and dutiful wife he’d married while in medical school. He’d always considered them to have an okay marriage, because she was content to be his wife and nothing more. She had been a career woman once, but when they’d married, she had given it up.
Tall and willowy, she had shoulder-length dark hair that helped hide the fact that her neck was too long and scrawny. Her strong suit was the fact that she loved to entertain and did it well. She had been the perfect wife for him, and he hated like hell for anything to mess with that.
Now, thanks to his fuck-up, their marriage and everything else he held dear was in jeopardy.
Tim felt that roar in his head shift to his stomach, causing it to rebel. For a minute he thought he might actually have to head for the toilet. He took several deep breaths in succession, and it settled.
“You’re not leaving this room until you tell me what is going on.” Eve paused and seemed to fight back tears. “I’ve never been so humiliated in my entire life.”
He had just come in from the office, later than usual, and he was tired. This had been one day when he’d been forced to work far more hours than he liked. He’d had visions of coming home to a hot shower, followed by a hot dinner—not to a wife with an ax to grind.
“I’ll have some money in the account tomorrow,” Tim said, though he didn’t know where the hell he was going to get it.
“Why wasn’t there some in there today?” Eve snapped. “I couldn’t believe it when the teller told me our account was overdrawn.”
Tim turned his head and rubbed his neck harder.
“Look at me. This is serious, and I have a right to know what’s going on.”
“It’s just a temporary setback,” Tim said lamely.
She laughed without humor. “A setback? It that what you call this? That’s good, Tim. That’s real good.”
“I’ll take care of it first thing in the morning,” he said tersely. “Now, can we please drop the subject?”
Eve walked to the window in the huge living room, decorated to perfection by one of Garnet’s leading interior designers. Tim was proud of this house and the status it represented. The thought of losing it made his stomach do another unwanted tap dance.
She swung back around, her eyes troubled. “No. I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”
“Dammit, Eve, I’m tired.”
“And I’m still humiliated.”
“You’ll get over it.” He was getting mad himself, and it showed. He would hate to have to get ugly and put her in her place, but he just might have to.
“Don’t you talk to me like that,” Eve retorted. “Like I’m some imbecile.”
Tim’s eyes widened in surprise at the venom he heard in her voice. “Now, see here, Eve, I—”
“What have you done with all our money, Tim? Why is it that a doctor of your caliber and success has a zero bank balance?”
“I’ve run into a little bad luck in the stock market.”
She frowned. “But I thought all our investments were protected.”
“They are, at least—” He broke off, exasperation getting the better of him. “Look, you don’t need to worry your pretty head about all this any longer. You just do your thing, and leave the business end to me.”
“I know you, Tim, and right now you’re walking on eggshells. So just how broke are we?”
His mouth tightened. “I told you, it’s nothing I can’t take care of. I’m just in a bind right now.”
“What about your mother’s trust?”
“What about it?” he snapped.
“Get some of it and put it in the account.”
He didn’t say anything, which was the wrong move. His silence obviously spoke louder than words.
“Oh, my God!” she cried, though her voice was low. “You’ve depleted that, too, haven’t you.”
“No, I haven’t,” he lied.
“I don’t believe you, Tim.”
“That’s too bad,” he lashed back. “I’m in charge of this household and the money.” His tone dripped with ice. “Now, I suggest you see to dinner.”
Eve’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears, but she held her ground. “I’ll leave it be for now. But I’m warning you, you’d best make things right at the bank. I refuse to be without money, even if it means borrowing from your sister or your daddy.”
“That’s not going to happen,” he snapped again, feeling as though the floor under him had shifted. He was losing ground fast.
“Then take care of the problem,” Eve said in an unsteady tone. “I’ve never been without funds, and I don’t intend to start now.”
With that, she turned and walked out of the room, leaving a trail of perfume behind that added to his queasiness. He fell into the nearest chair and stared into space.
What a mess he’d gotten himself into. His gaze fell on the telephone on the nearby table. He headed toward it, but his steps faltered. He had an alternative, but it wasn’t one he was overjoyed about.
In fact, he hadn’t planned on having to take this route at all. But one bad investment after another had taken its toll, leaving him no choice.
Lindsay was already on to him. Now Eve. He figured it wouldn’t be long until Cooper found out. There would be hell to pay then, for sure.
He couldn’t risk that.
“What the hell!” he muttered, forcing himself to move to the phone. With a racing heart, he lifted the receiver and punched out a number.
The second he heard the strong voice on the other end of the line, he didn’t waste time. “It’s Newman. I’ve changed my mind.”
“You won’t regret it.”
“I’m depending on you to see that I don’t.”
“Let’s meet.”
“You say where, and I’ll be there.”
Long after he’d replaced the receiver, Tim still hadn’t moved. He shuddered to think what he’d gotten himself into.
Mitch stretched, then flinched.
“What’s wrong, boss? You stove up?”
Mitch pinned one of his hands, Jesse Valdez, with tired eyes. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am. Every muscle in this old body is creaking.”
“It’s your own fault, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so.”
“Damn straight it is, Jesse, but I wanted to do it.”
“Was no call for you to.” Jesse removed his sweat-stained baseball cap, then shoved a hand through a mop of black hair, all the while never taking his gaze off Mitch. “Me and the others coulda cut up that tree in nothin’ flat.”
“You’re right,” Mitch said without further explanation.
Jesse shrugged. “Well, as long as you’re not thinking we can’t do the job.”
“Give it a rest, Jess. You and the boys are doing great. I couldn’t be more pleased. But right now, I’m calling it a day and heading to the shower. I suggest you do the same.”
“Got no problem with that,” Jesse said, grinning.
“Tomorrow’s another big day. The material’s coming for the new greenhouse. If I’m not mistaken, the dirt’s coming, as well.”
“We’ll be ready.”
“See you early thirty, then.”
Jesse nodded, then sauntered off. Mitch couldn’t help but smile as he watched him, thinking the man was going to lose his breeches any second now, they hung so low on his hips.
Mitch merely shook his head, then turned and scouted the area. After seeing that no tools were left scattered about, he trudged toward his quarters.
Home sweet home.
He smiled, though it reeked with cynicism. He did consider the cottage home, despite the fact that it wasn’t much bigger than a popcorn fart, however the hell big that was. That priceless gem had been something his grandmother had said quite often. He’d asked her many times what it meant, but she’d never once told him.
“It means whatever you want it to, sonny boy.”
That explanation hadn’t made sense then any more than it did now, but it made him think with sad affection of his grandmother, who’d practically raised him.
Cramped or not, the cottage was the perfect home for him, consisting of a combination living room, kitchen and dining area. It even had a fireplace, an amenity that he probably wouldn’t use. The rest consisted of a bedroom and adjoining bath. But he didn’t demand much for himself. No unnecessary baggage for him.
He’d dropped that three years ago, when he’d simplified his life.
Thirty minutes later, Mitch was out of the shower and had a beer in his hand. Following a long draw on the cold draft, he set it down while he slipped into a pair of worn jeans, then tromped barefoot into the living room.
Once he was seated, Mitch swung his head toward the kitchen. He was hungry as a bitch wolf with nine sucklings. Yet he was too dog-tired to cook himself anything to eat.
This was when he missed his grandmother and his ex-wife, though he hated to admit the latter. Whenever Wendy had been at home for any length of time, she would cook for him.
He would bet she had cooked for her lover, too.
“Aw, shit,” he muttered, hating it when he thought about her, but hating it more when he talked to himself. Not a good sign.
Mitch polished off the rest of the beer, his gaze once again straying toward the refrigerator. Surely he had a TV dinner he could toss into the microwave.
His thoughts shifted to the big house and the feast that the boss and his daughter were most likely sinking their teeth into about now. Instead of tossing that absurd thought aside, Mitch’s mind homed in on Lindsay, and lingered there.
She had been the reason he’d used the chain saw all day. He had cut a huge oak that had fallen during a storm into fire logs. His intention had been to work out his sexual frustrations so that he wouldn’t think about anything or anybody.
Had it worked? Nope.
He could still remember every word Lindsay had said to him and the way she’d looked at him, her lovely naked eyes a mixture of sadness, curiosity and something else—that same something that he’d felt mirrored in his eyes: instant and liquid desire.
Ah, what a crock. She didn’t want him. She already had a stud to service her—the one he’d seen her with on the porch the other evening. Yet she didn’t look like anyone was making love to her. No one that lovely ought to be that hauntingly sad.
Maybe that was why he couldn’t get her off his mind, why he couldn’t stop savoring everything about her, especially the memory of her shiny, styled hair, those sexy freckles that dusted her nose, those pouty, Kewpie doll lips quirked in doubt, and her tight little butt.
When she’d whipped that butt around, he’d watched her run off, and been reminded of a lithe and classy Thoroughbred. He had stood there long after she’d disappeared, feeling like he’d just been karate-chopped from behind.
And he was still nursing that same painful feeling, because that last uninhibited gesture had left him with an unwanted ache in his groin—an ache he hadn’t had in a helluva long time.
As badly as he hated to admit it, that ache hadn’t subsided. In fact, he had a hard-on right now, just thinking about her. What was the deal? He was no longer in control of his emotions; that was the deal.
Well, that was just too bad. Lindsay Newman was a no deposit, no return sort of woman. He’d best keep that in mind.
Seven
“Gosh, it’s good to see you.”
Lindsay smiled at her friend Mary Jane. “It’s good to see you, too. It seems like ages.”
Mary Jane’s saucy grin added to the twinkle in her green eyes. “What with you gallivanting around the globe, it’s kind of hard to stay in touch.”
“Pooh,” Lindsay responded good-naturedly, knowing that M.J. wasn’t really jealous. Besides, she had the means to travel, only she was afraid to fly. “And I would hardly call a trip to London globe-trotting.”
Mary Jane flapped a hand. “Well, whatever.”
“So let’s grab a seat before they’re all gone.” Lindsay pointed toward a table in a far corner. “Go for that one.”
This Italian restaurant was her favorite, and she ate here often. Today, however, her favorite waitress wasn’t here, nor was the manager. Both always gave her preferential treatment.
“Whew, I’m glad to be out of the heat!” Mary Jane exclaimed. “Darn, but it’s hot. And muggy.”
Lindsay flicked a strand of red-gold hair out of her eyes and stared at M.J. “It’s supposed to be, my friend. It’s summer.”
“Well, you can have summer. Sometimes I wish I lived in the North Pole.”
Lindsay frowned. “Uh-oh, things must be bad at work. I hear an underlying whine in your tone. Anything I need to know about?”
“Nah, except I’m overworked and my boss is an asshole.”
“Mary Jane!”
She didn’t look the least bit contrite. “Well, he is.”
Lindsay grinned. “Aren’t most men, at some time or other?”
The waitress appeared at the table, and once they had placed their orders and were alone again, Mary Jane shook her bobbed dark blond hair and said, “So tell me what’s going on.”
“You mean with Peter?” Lindsay asked innocently.
Mary Jane almost spat out the sip of water she had just drunk. “Now, why would I ask you about that prick? You know my opinion of him.”
Lindsay’s grin widened. “We’re awful. You know that, don’t you?”
“No, what we are is truthful.”
Lindsay merely shook her head.
“So has your idea gelled yet?” Mary Jane asked, switching the subject.
Lindsay kept a straight face. “Idea?”
“You know what I’m talking about—that certain thing you were going to tell me about. Your secret, if you will.” Mary Jane snapped her fingers. “Duh. Ring a bell?”
“Of course it does, silly. I was just giving you a hard time.”
Although Mary Jane grinned, there was a perplexed look on her face. “My, but you’re full of vinegar today. Whatever’s going on sure suits you. I haven’t seen you this relaxed in a long time.”
“I haven’t been this excited in a long time.”
Before Mary Jane could respond, the waitress brought their food, refilled their water glasses and shuffled to the next table.
“Let’s eat first,” Lindsay said. “Then we’ll talk.” She peered at her watch. “Hey, do you have time? It’s later than I thought.”
“No, I don’t have the time.” Mary Jane shrugged. “But screw ’em. I’m not going to be in any hurry. I’ve given that office overtime galore, none of which I’ve been paid for.”
“Atta girl.”
Mary Jane sighed. “What’s it really like to be a lady of leisure?”
“Hell.” Lindsay’s tone was flat.
Mary Jane’s grin fled, and her eyes lost their twinkle. “Oops, you took that personally, and it wasn’t meant that way. I was just teasing.”
Lindsay forced herself to lighten up. “I know that. You don’t have a malicious bone in your body.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, but not toward you, anyway.” Mary Jane paused. “Am I missing something here? I mean—”
“It’s me, M.J. I guess I’m beginning to see a side of me that I don’t like.”
“Why, that’s ridiculous. Good Lord, after what you’ve been through, I think you’ve accomplished a miracle just to get up every morning.”
“Some days I still think I have a long way to go.”
“Don’t you dare get down on yourself,” Mary Jane warned fiercely. “Why, just a minute ago you seemed on top of the world.”
Lindsay’s mouth turned down. “Well, that’s a bit of an overstatement, but I really do have something on the burner that I’m excited about.”
“So let’s hear it.”
Lindsay told her about her plan for battered women and their children.
When she finished, Mary Jane’s face was glowing. “I think that’s great.” Mary Jane paused again, her face losing its animation. “Uh, have you told your daddy?”
“Yep.”
“Not good, huh?”
Lindsay gave a sarcastic laugh. “You got it.”
“Now why am I not surprised?”
“I won’t bore you or humiliate myself by repeating his reasons for not backing me. But the bottom line is that he had a conniption.”
“I bet a more apt description is that he was frothing at the mouth.”
Lindsay grinned, in spite of the fact that her stomach was clenched in knots. “You’re right, he was.”
“So are you going to scrap it?”
Lindsay could hear the disappointment in Mary Jane’s tone, which strengthened her resolve not to let her friend down. But most of all, not to let herself down. “No, I’m not.”
“Praise the Lord!” Mary Jane exclaimed.
“Shush,” Lindsay whispered, looking around to see if anyone had heard M.J.
“Ah, you worry too much about what other people think. But you come by that honestly. That’s Cooper’s modus operandi.”
“And Tim’s.”
“Like father, like son. What can I say?”
“So will you help me?” Lindsay asked. “If this idea comes to fruition, I’m going to need lots of volunteers.” Her features sobered. “Actually, I’m going to need a lot of everything.”
“What do you mean, if?”
Lindsay’s eyes clouded. “You know how hard it is for me to buck Daddy.”
“Dammit, Lindsay, he’s dominated you long enough.”
“I know. But I’ve spent so many years pleasing him that it’s hard to stop now.”
“But now is the time to stop. This idea is great. When you talk about it, your face lights up, which is something I haven’t seen since you—” Mary Jane broke off, then added, “Never mind about that.”
“I know you’re right.” Lindsay took a deep breath. “It’s just that I wanted Daddy’s approval, as well as his help.”
“I’ll jump aboard, that’s for sure. What about Tim? Do you think he’d help?”
“Are you kidding? He’s got too many problems of his own to care about anyone else.”
Mary Jane’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything.
“For months I’ve had all these ideas dancing around in my head like sugarplums. Now I’m ready to put them on the computer and get officially organized.”
“Do you think Cooper’ll try and sabotage the project?”
Lindsay sipped on the cup of fresh coffee the waitress had just poured, all the while staring at Mary Jane over the rim, a pensive look on her face.
“He might.”
“Well, you can’t let him, you hear?”
“All he wants is for me to marry Peter, live in the big house and have babies.”
Mary Jane harrumphed. “God, what a miserable existence.”
“I agree.”
“If I had to wake up and see Peter’s head on the pillow next to mine, I’d puke.”
Lindsay grinned. “As always, you’re the best tonic I could ever hope to have.”
“You go, girl. Don’t let Daddy shift your gears. You take this project and run with it.”
“Just pray I don’t chicken out,” Lindsay said, Cooper’s scandalized face popping to the forefront of her mind.
“You won’t,” Mary Jane said with airy confidence. “I’m not going to let you.” She peered at her watch. “Oops! Gotta go or I’ll be pounding the pavement looking for a new job.” She grinned as she gave Lindsay a hug. “I’m counting on you to hang tough.”
Later that same afternoon, Lindsay was trying to do just that, only to find her self-confidence in jeopardy, especially after she came home and turned on the computer. To raise money, to round up volunteers—to co-ordinate a project of such magnitude—suddenly seemed overwhelming.
Nonetheless, she had no intention of throwing in the towel until she had at least tried. Her game plan was to officially start the ball rolling in the morning. First she would talk to two very influential people whom she not only considered friends but who had the financial means to help fund the project. Next on her agenda was to approach the local junior college, which she hoped would become part of the triad that included the women’s shelter and her proposed facility.
Her palms turned sweaty as her faltering self-confidence soared into full-blown panic. What if she couldn’t do it? What if she failed?
Simple. Daddy would win.
Everything inside Lindsay cringed at such a thought. She pushed her chair back from the computer screen and rubbed her eyes. It was at times like this, when she was tired and discouraged, that she tended to think about her mother—missing her, reflecting on what her life might have been had Emily Newman lived.
More than that, Lindsay wondered if her own troubled past would always overshadow and undermine her future. Was she emotionally able to tackle such a task? Would she crash and burn again?
Like mother, like daughter?
Suddenly her eyes drifted toward her mother’s cedar chest, positioned at the foot of her bed. Every so often she opened it and fingered Emily’s personal items. The only item she hadn’t touched was the stack of letters from her mother’s best friend, who was also deceased.
Someday she planned to read them, hoping to better understand the woman she had called Mother.
Feeling her dissatisfaction and restlessness reach a dangerous level, Lindsay jumped up, changed into her workout clothes and bounded downstairs.
“I’m going to run,” she told Dolly, who was in the kitchen making a peach cobbler.
Dolly sniffed. “When you finish, I expect you back for a bowl of cobbler and ice cream.”
“I just might do that.”
“Huh!” Dolly snorted. “You best stop telling stories, child. The Lord’s gonna get you for sure.”
Lindsay’s only response was to plant a kiss on Dolly’s chubby cheek.
“It’s still too hot for you to be out there.”
“Love you,” Lindsay called over her shoulder.
Dolly’s satisfied grunt followed her out the door, where she instantly froze. Dear Lord, not again. Mitch Rawlins, along with his crew, was working the huge flower beds next to the porch.
When he saw her, his eyes locked on her, and for a long moment, blue met brown. Lindsay swallowed, but it was hard. The saliva inside her mouth seemed to have dried up, leaving it feeling like she’d been munching on cotton.
“Afternoon,” he said in his low, gravelly drawl. “We’re gonna have to stop meeting like this, you know.”
Lindsay stood transfixed, unable to take her eyes off his sweat-glistened chest. “Uh, right,” she finally managed to get out, mortified by her obvious confusion.
But he shouldn’t be so enticing, sweat and all. Every time she saw him, her body responded, becoming more pliant with a need that was threatening to careen out of control. On top of that, she felt torn by her mind’s resolve not to get involved at any cost.
“Going for another run?”
“It’s good for the old mind,” she said inanely.
He almost grinned. “Don’t you think it’s a bit hot?”
“You sound like Dolly.”
He frowned.
“Our housekeeper.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Their eyes met again for another long awkward moment in the ensuing silence. “Do you ever exercise?”
“All day, every day.”
She flushed. “I don’t mean that. I mean jog, like me.”
“Nope.”
“You ought to try it some time.”
She had no idea what made those idiotic words pop out of her mouth. But when she was around him, she seemed to become someone else, someone totally out of character.
“Is that an invitation?”
Her heart drummed in her ears while she licked her lower lip. She saw his gaze settle there and linger. “What if it is?” she finally said, her voice coming out on a husky note.
Suddenly his features changed, turning hard, almost brutal.
“Count me out. As you can see, I don’t have the time or inclination to entertain a bored rich girl who has nothing worthwhile to do.”
Lindsay sucked in her breath against his frontal attack and held it, her mind reeling. Just who did he think he was?
“You go to hell,” she said through clenched teeth, then swung her back to him and, as before, took off running.
Still, no matter how fast her legs moved, she couldn’t outrun the tears that rolled down her face. She wished she could say it was sweat, but she couldn’t.
First Mary Jane, now Mitch. Within the same day, two people had made comments about her easy, stress-free life. Mary Jane knew better, of course.
Damn him. Damn her for caring what he thought, how he perceived her. And damn her more for finding him attractive.
But what cut even deeper was how her apparent idleness appeared to other people outside her rich circle of friends.
Well, that was about to change. Lindsay straightened her shoulders. She wouldn’t fail this time.
She wouldn’t.
Eight
“Sara, what are you doing here?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Peter,” she responded in a bored tone, “give it a rest. You can get your shorts in a wad quicker than anyone I know.”
Peter’s mouth formed a cruel line as he grabbed his current mistress by the arm and all but shoved her into a deserted corner of the bank. Once there, he loomed over her and spat, “You listen to me, you little bitch. You’ll do what I tell you.”
Sara Risinger jerked her arm free, then stuck out her lower lip. “Ah, honey, don’t be like that. It’s just that I wanted to see you, and I needed some cash.”
“People in hell need ice water, too, and they don’t get it.”
Her overly made-up face turned ugly. “Now, you see here, I—”
“No, you see here,” Peter interrupted. “I’m calling the shots. When I want to see you, I’ll come to you.”
“You’re a real bastard, Peter.”
He felt himself shaking on the inside and sweating on the outside. He glanced around to see if anyone was aware of them. He didn’t want to be seen with this woman who could give the best blow jobs he’d ever had but who looked like an honest-to-God streetwalker one day and a businesswoman the next.
Today she looked like the streetwalker.
He had met her at a party, and when she’d immediately pushed him into the nearest room and unzipped his pants, he’d known he had to have her for his latest plaything, at least until he got tired or married, whichever came first.
Thinking of getting married heightened Peter’s anger and made him sweat that much more. He turned and scrutinized the lobby. If Cooper were to come in and see him with this woman, the old man would croak on the spot. Then where would that leave him?
Out on his ass.
Well, he wasn’t going to allow that to happen. Nothing was going to stop him from marrying Lindsay Newman—certainly not any stupid moves on his own part.
“Am I going to see you tonight?” Sara cooed, her clear blue eyes steady on him.
“Depends,” he said absently.
“On what?” she pressed.
“None of your business.”
She gave him a coy smile. “Aw, we both know that’s not true. Why, it’d be a shame for your good family name to get ruined.”
She might be overly made-up and overdressed, but she was no dummy, nor was she shy, Peter reminded himself. And she wasn’t afraid of him, either, which was something he didn’t understand.
“Are you threatening me?”
“Of course not, darling. There you go again, getting yourself all worked up for nothing.”
Peter shoved his hand into a pocket and pulled out several bills. With flashing eyes, he slapped them in her hand. “You got what you came for. Now get out of here.”
Despite his obvious revulsion, she leaned over and pecked him on the cheek.
He jerked back. “You know better than that.”
She grinned. “Ta-ta, darling.”
From that moment on, the rest of the day was downhill. Shortly after Sara’s stunt, he was called into the president’s office, where he was chewed out because of a bad loan he’d made.
Later, his mother, Harriet, called and wanted him to run some unnecessary errands for her. If only he still had money, he wouldn’t have to be indebted to anyone.
Part of the problem was that at one time he had had money. His entire family had had money—until his father squandered it. Once the attorney had delivered the bad news to him and his mother, he had never been the same. His life had never been the same. Even though his old man was long dead, he still damned him to hell.
Only after he met Lindsay and, subsequently, her father did he start to climb out of the toilet. Even so, it took a while before he realized the doctor had something else on his mind—finding a suitable husband for his daughter.
When Cooper had first mentioned that to him, Peter had almost laughed in his face. “I mean no disrespect, sir, but people don’t arrange marriages anymore, not even in the South.”
“That’s not at all what I had in mind, young man.” Cooper’s tone was cold and condescending. “If you’re interested in my daughter, then it’s up to you to make her fall in love with you.”
Love? Hell, he hadn’t cared about that. But if that was what it would take to feather his own nest, then so be it.
“Why is that so important to you, sir?”
“I think it’s time she settled down and had a family of her own.”
“Don’t you think she’s capable of handling that on her own?”
“No, I don’t,” Cooper replied, his tone remaining cold.
“So what’s in it for me?” Peter asked bluntly, thinking, what did he have to lose? Besides, from where he stood, he seemed to be in the driver’s seat. This man wanted something from him. And nothing came free—at least, not as far as he was concerned. He might as well get that straight right up front.
“Let’s just say I’ll make it more than worth your while.”
“Can you be more specific?”
Cooper’s face turned unnaturally red. “Even though you’re from good stock, you lack manners, boy.”
Peter didn’t so much as flinch. “What I lack, sir, is cash.”
“Once you’re married to my daughter, your money woes will be past history. Is that plain enough?”
“Absolutely.”
Immediately after that chat with Cooper, he had upped his pursuit of Lindsay. To date, however, he’d made little headway. The road had been much rockier than he’d anticipated.
Lindsay had a hard shell around her that he hadn’t been able to crack. And he was getting disgusted. But Cooper wanted them married. His mother wanted them married.
Somehow he had to convince Lindsay that she wanted to be married. To him.
That thought was still uppermost in his mind when he left the bank and stopped by the Newman mansion. He was getting out of his vehicle, parked behind Lindsay’s in the circular drive, when she bounded out the front door.
He watched as a look of displeasure changed her features. Though anger surged through him, Peter managed to hang on to his control. “Hey, where are you going in such a hurry?”
“To the shelter.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Not an urgent one, no.”
It was her aloof and somewhat patronizing attitude that irked him, made him want to shake her. “Then don’t go. I’d like to take you to dinner.”
“Sorry, I can’t.”
“Can’t—or won’t?”
Her lips twisted. “Look, Peter, don’t start, okay?”
“Fine. Another time.”
Lindsay gave him a weak smile before getting into her car and driving off. He turned and rang the doorbell. Moments later, Dolly showed him into the parlor, where Cooper was indulging in a before-dinner drink.
“Ah, Peter, it’s good to see you. Come on in and have a seat.”
“Thanks,” Peter said, forcing his voice back into its normal range. He was still smarting from the cold shoulder that Lindsay had given him.
“Care for a drink?” Cooper asked. “You look like you could use it.”
“In the worst way.”
“Feel free to help yourself.”
Peter nodded, then made his way to the small bar, where he poured himself a stiff drink. He took a healthy swig of it before he sat across from Cooper, who was watching him with raised eyebrows and a displeased expression on his face.
“What’s wrong?”
“This hasn’t been one of my best days.”
“We all have them,” Cooper responded in an impatient and dismissive tone.
Peter knew where Lindsay got her holier-than-thou attitude, but that didn’t make dealing with it any easier. And if the truth were known, he knew he was guilty of the same behavior, though the loss of money and status had tempered him.
“What’s the deal with Lindsay?” he asked.
Cooper’s body stiffened, but he didn’t sidestep the question. “I wish the hell I knew.”
“She acts as if I’m contagious, or something worse.”
“Then it’s up to you to change that.”
Peter almost strangled on his sip of vodka. “What do you think I’ve been doing? Hell, Cooper, I don’t even think she likes me.”
“She doesn’t know what she likes right now.” Cooper scowled. “She’s on this bloody crusade to save all the battered women and their children in Garnet.”
“Great.”
“Only I’m not standing for it, and I told her so.”
“Do you think she’ll mind you?” Peter knew he was being glib, if not disrespectful, but he didn’t care. He was about at his wits’ end, trying to woo Lindsay. But he couldn’t afford to give up. He didn’t have that luxury.
“In the end, she’ll come around,” Cooper said. “She’ll do like she’s told.”
“I’m counting on that.”
“But you have to do your part, you know. Make her want you.”
“I’m aware of that,” Peter snapped, “but for some reason, Lindsay remains immune to my charm.”
“I may be partly responsible for that. I’ve given her a grace period.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I’ve backed off from demanding she set a wedding date.”
Peter gave him an incredulous look. “Do you think that’s wise?”
“Yes,” Cooper said in a self-assured tone. “I know how to work my daughter.”
Peter shrugged.
“But in the end, I’ll have my way. She will marry you.”
“Works for me,” Peter quipped, then finished off his drink. “I can’t wait to be a kept man.”
Mitch squeezed the phone receiver so tightly that he felt the pressure on his knuckles. If he weren’t careful, he would break them. And for what—because his ex-wife had called him?
Hell, he didn’t need this aggravation, but short of hanging up on her, he didn’t have much choice. All the more reason why he should not have answered his phone.
Why had he?
“So what’s up, Wendy?” He tried to hold his irritation to a minimum, but wasn’t sure he’d pulled it off.
“Nothing, really.”
He blew out a harsh breath, then forced himself to ask, “So how’ve you been?”
“Not so good, Mitch.”
He wasn’t about to ask her to elaborate. Experience had taught him that. If he dared show any sympathy whatsoever, she took advantage.
“I still miss you lots.”
“Your ploy won’t work, Wendy. For your own sake, you’ve got to stop fanning the embers. They’re stone cold.”
“I refuse to believe that,” she wailed.
“Where’s your husband, Wendy?” he asked in a tired voice. “You are still married, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to call me.”
She hiccuped.
“Ah, I get it. You’re drinking.”
“I see you haven’t changed,” she said, her voice now tainted with unsuppressed venom.
“Look, I’m going to hang up before we both say things we’ll be sorry for. Take care of yourself.”
Once he was off the phone, Mitch felt as if he’d been beaten with a wet rope. Did one’s ex ever completely disappear? He was beginning to think not, though he hadn’t heard from Wendy in quite some time, not since she’d remarried. Apparently that marriage had also gone sour. He hated that, but it had nothing to do with him.
Women. His best recourse was to avoid them, period. Except, maybe, for Lindsay Newman.
An expletive colored the air as Mitch made his way to the sink, where he placed his empty glass. He had to forget her. But how could he, when she kept popping up at the most unexpected times?
What was going on? Were those encounters an accident? Or were they accidentally on purpose? He didn’t have a clue, nor did he want one. Nor did he want to think about her with another man. He would guess she probably had to beat men off with a stick.
Another expletive zinged the air. Maybe if he hadn’t taken a lunch break, he wouldn’t have had time to think. But today the rain had been impossible, so he’d given the hands a break.
No excuse.
Thoughts of her were forbidden. While she made a great package, a package he wouldn’t mind unwrapping were the circumstances different, nothing was going to happen. The reason was obvious: the circumstances weren’t different. So he might as well keep a tight rein on his libido and try his best to ignore her.
Yeah, right, like he could ignore a throbbing tooth-ache.
“Hey, boss, you in there?”
Mitch gave a start at the unexpected voice. Pulling his jeans up a bit higher, he strode to the front door. Jesse stood on the porch, hat in hand.
“We got trouble,” he said.
“How so?”
“A tree’s done gone and fallen across Ms. Newman’s balcony, but she wasn’t hurt.”
Mitch rolled his eyes back in his head. Super. Just what he didn’t need.
Nine
“I cannot believe this,” Lindsay moaned, her chocolate eyes meeting those of the housekeeper.
Dolly was the first to roll hers heavenward. “Don’t you worry none. Mr. Mitch will take care of this mess.”
At the mention of Mitch’s name, Lindsay’s heart suddenly turned over. What would her heart do when he actually got here? No matter—she was glad he was on his way.
Lindsay’s gaze roamed the room. Dolly had called this a mess. Well, that was a gross understatement. The tree, sprawled across the balcony just shy of the French doors leading into her room, was a disaster.
For the past two days it had done nothing but rain—the hard, earth-soaking kind. Still, Lindsay had had no idea that the weather could topple a big oak.
“It could’ve been worse, child.”
“You’re so right, Dolly. It could’ve crashed into my room or hit my computer.” Lindsay shuddered to think about that, because she’d put in so many hours at that screen, working on her project. Of course, she had a backup diskette, but it was beside the computer, which meant it could easily have been destroyed, too.
“It could’ve hit you,” Dolly pointed out. “I’m not worried about some ol’ machine.”
“I am,” Lindsay muttered.
“Do you need me to stay here?” Dolly asked.
“Absolutely not. You go ahead and do whatever you have to do.”
Dolly nodded. “I’ll tell Mr. Cooper to come up when he gets home.”
“Oh, I’m sure you won’t have to. There’ll be more commotion around here than if the alarm had gone off.”
Dolly merely shook her head. “I’ll check on you later.”
“Thanks, love,” Lindsay said, watching the housekeeper waddle out the door.
Once she was alone, Lindsay plopped down on the edge of the bed, wondering how long it would take to clean up all the debris and repair the balcony. Several days, she suspected, since the damage also affected the rooms directly under hers.
At least something positive had come out of the day. She had made contact with her two wealthy, charity-minded friends, Ash Fisher, an oilman with mega bucks, and Peggy Potter, a socialite with the same big bucks. After pitching her project to them, they were both very interested and wanted to be kept informed as she went forward.
While neither had actually committed funds, Lindsay knew their money would be forthcoming if she could pull the details all together. She had held her breath, waiting for at least one of them to ask about Cooper’s role in her undertaking. To her relief, that particular question had not been asked.
She doubted her daddy had given their conversation any further thought once he had gone on record with his disapproval. He undoubtedly figured she would drop the idea like a hot potato.
Wrong. Now that she had someone else interested, she was determined to steamroll ahead. Most likely, there would be a price to pay for her flagrant show of independence, but she would gladly pay it.
If only she could get Cooper to the shelter… Lindsay smiled a bitter smile. That was never going to happen. But if he were ever to weaken and walk through the doors, he would understand where her passion stemmed from.
Today would have been a perfect example of how critical the circumstances were. After she had left her friends, she had gone to the shelter and spent the remainder of the morning there, meeting with the director, Rita Thomas.
If ever there was a saint, it was Rita. Lindsay admired her more each time she met with her. She was doing an outstanding job with the women and the budget. But sometimes the load seemed too heavy to bear.
Still, Rita never complained. She was undoubtedly one of the sweetest and warmest women Lindsay had ever known. Though she was only in her early forties, she had lived a lifetime, having barely escaped with her life from an abusive husband. But since his death several years ago, Rita had gotten herself back together and made her life count for something.
Lindsay often thought the reason they had hit it off so well was that they had both suffered terribly, though in totally different ways and for totally different reasons. But it didn’t matter. They had each weathered some severe storms and had come out the stronger—or at least Rita had.
Lindsay wasn’t so sure about herself. It seemed she still had a lot to learn and a long way to go. However, she never failed to draw strength from Rita, and today had been no exception.
“So what’s up?” Rita had asked, once she had poured them a cup of coffee and sat back down at the two-seater table in the small kitchen.
Lindsay studied her friend, thinking something was different about her. Yet she couldn’t pinpoint what it was.
“It’s my hair,” Rita admitted in a shy, hesitant tone. “I cut it.”
“Right!” Lindsay exclaimed. “And it looks great, too.”
A blush crept into Rita’s leather-textured cheeks, giving her a glow that had heretofore been missing. “Thanks. It’s so much easier to take care of now. It doesn’t take me nearly as much time.”
“And time is something you don’t have enough of.”
Rita’s face sobered once more. “You can say that again. We have so many women to place with nowhere to place them, that it’s completely overwhelming.”
“I know.”
They were quiet for a minute, each sipping on her coffee.
Rita was the first to break the silence. “So, again, what’s up?”
“How do you know anything’s up?” Lindsay tried to contain her excitement and keep a straight face, but she knew her eyes had given her away. They always did.
“Your eyes.”
“I knew it.” Lindsay grinned. “But you’re right, I do have something up my sleeve.”
“Let’s hear it. I need some good news.”
“Well, here goes.”
By the time Lindsay finished outlining her plan, tears were running down Rita’s face.
“Oh, Lindsay!” she cried. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything yet. It’s not a done deal by any stretch of the imagination. We have to raise the money.”
“Do you think that’s possible?” Rita’s voice was filled with awe.
“I’m going to give it my best shot.”
“Then I know it will come about.”
“Meanwhile, I certainly need your input. When you get some spare time—ha, that’s a joke—jot your thoughts, needs, ideas and goals down on paper.”
“Consider it done.”
They both swallowed another sip of coffee as they got up. Then Lindsay gave Rita a hug. “I’ll call you later.”
“I’ll walk you to the door. Come on.”
They heard the sobbing almost immediately, coming from the front room of the facility. Lindsay and Rita looked at each other, their eyes clouding over, then headed toward the pitiful sound.
Lindsay was the first through the door, her heart in her throat. “Oh, my God, Annie.”
The woman who stood in front of her had been helped by the shelter, but had recently gone back to her husband, convinced he’d turned over a new leaf. When Lindsay had learned that, she’d been upset, thinking Annie and her precious five-year-old daughter Bridget would be perfect candidates for her proposed facility.
And she hadn’t thought for one minute that Annie’s husband had changed one iota. Unfortunately, her fears had been right on target.
Now Annie was hurt, battered and bruised. And bloody. Bright red blood was splattered all over the front of her blouse. Suddenly Lindsay felt the room spin as her mind roared back to another time, another place—to her mother’s blood-soaked body.
“Are you all right, Lindsay?”
Rita’s soothing voice at her shoulder suddenly righted the world. That was when she noticed that the blood had resulted from a split lip, not anything life-threatening. “I’m fine,” she whispered, then went to Annie and wrapped her arms around her.
“Oh, Miss Newman,” Annie gulped, “I’m so sorry.”
“Shh, it’s going to be all right,” Lindsay said, fighting back her own tears. “You need to get to the hospital.”
Annie left Lindsay’s arms and went to Rita, who had taken charge. Lindsay dropped to her knees in front of the child, who looked like she’d seen a ghost.
“Are you all right, sweetie?”
The little girl’s chin quivered, and tears spilled from her wide green eyes. “My daddy hurted my mommy.”
“Did he hurt you, too?” Lindsay’s hands were gently running up and down the tiny, malnourished body, searching for possible injuries.
“No.” Bridget sniffed. “Mommy hid me.”
“Good for Mommy.”
Lindsay held the child close for a long moment, feeling her small body tremble. Once she pulled back, she brushed the straggly strands of hair out of Bridget’s eyes.
“Is my mommy going to get well?”
“Of course,” Lindsay assured her in a choked voice. “Don’t you worry about that for one minute.”
“Can I go with her?”
“No, darling, not right now.” Lindsay peered up at Rita, who was hovering above her after seeing that Annie was taken to the emergency room. “You can see her later. Okay?”
Bridget nodded, though her lower lip couldn’t seem to stop quivering.
“Go with Miss Rita, and I’ll see you soon.” Lindsay brushed the tears off the child’s thin face.
“You promise?”
“I promise and cross my heart.”
Bridget gave her a wet kiss on the cheek before reaching up to Rita. Lindsay didn’t know how long she stood there, her throat all lumped up, before she could find the wherewithal to turn, walk out the door and make her way home.
Now, as she jerked herself back to the moment at hand, she frowned. Where was Mitch? That thought hadn’t done more than hit her when she heard a tap on the door.
Mitch? No, that wouldn’t be him. There was no reason for him to come inside. Most likely it was her daddy, or Dolly. She got up, hurried across the room and jerked open the door, only to have the bottom drop out of her stomach.
Mitch stood facing her.
She tried to ignore the excitement that leapt through her veins. He smelled faintly of mint and sweat, and needed a shave.
“Are you all right?” he asked, not bothering to mask the concern in those incredible eyes of his.
“I’m fine,” she said, feeling dizzy.
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