Sultry

“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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