She did not particularly look like a wanton hussy, which was precisely what she felt like. Good Lord, the man respected her. She ought to be his major cheering section. He showed an incredible sensitivity to her feelings. He obviously didn’t want to rush her into a relationship she might not be ready for; and he certainly must care, or he wouldn’t be around seven days out of seven-nor would he be willing to endure the sexual frustration he was putting himself through.
That was fine. Wonderful.
Only she happened to love that big lug like hell. He was smart and he was funny and he was considerate…and whether he knew it or not, he was shy. He was rapidly turning into the same kind of life celebrator she was, just enjoying…being. Doing. It never mattered what they were doing; you’d think he was discovering laughter for the first time. To summarize it all rather rapidly, Mitch was the kind of man you locked up once you found him.
She’d looked too hard and too long to find one of that species. This time love hurt; it mattered so much.
His old-fashioned values about sex were rather sweet…weren’t they?
The doorbell rang. Kay gave herself one last glance in the mirror before heading out.
Yes, his values were sweet-but they had to go.
Chapter Ten
“Get those two men together and they just never stop talking. Come on, Kay, let’s get out of here and do something intellectually stimulating. Like gossip.”
Smiling, Kay followed Mitch’s mother from the living room, but not before she’d received duplicate winks from both Cochran men. Jane Cochran led her through a long hall, lit by a skylight and made wonderfully warm with dozens of hanging plants. The dining room was done in pastel brocade, and between that and the kitchen was a sort of nook.
“The butler’s pantry,” Jane explained. She reached up to the top shelf of a cupboard, and studied Kay with an examining eye. “I can’t tell if you’re a port or brandy lady.”
“Port would be nice.”
“Good.” Two crystal glasses appeared on the counter, then the bottle. Jane opened the long cupboard below the counter, and two stools appeared. She pulled them out and motioned Kay to one as she poured the wine. “Did you like that shrimp concoction for dinner?”
“I loved it,” Kay said honestly.
“You don’t have to say that, you know.” Jane’s smiling appraisal of Kay was affectionate, but it was nevertheless an appraisal. “I should have trusted my son’s taste instead of fretting all day about what you’d be like,” she confessed. “I’ve also been afraid all evening that I would ask personal questions, like how long have you been seeing Mitch.”
Kay chuckled. “I’ve been seeing your son for almost two months now.”
“And I won’t ask another question, I promise. If I did, Mitch would undoubtedly shoot me,” Jane said gravely. “Anyway, I’m not in the least curious about how the two of you met. Not that my son doesn’t talk to me, but getting personal information out of him is like getting blood out of a stone.”
“And I don’t want to bore you with what you don’t want to hear, but we met at the hospital,” Kay volunteered with a smile. “On alternate Saturday mornings I usually visit the children’s ward.”
Jane nodded. “Mitch has been doing that for a long time. I didn’t understand at first. I thought it would only give him painful memories.”
Kay cocked her head curiously, but Jane motioned her up with the tilt of her glass. “Let’s talk as we walk. I haven’t shown you the rest of the house.”
The house where Mitch had grown up was on one of Coeur d’Alene’s inland coves. The place was two-storied, and sprawled around turns and alcoves and rooms stuck here and there for no obvious purpose. Greenery hung from most windows; very old oils graced the walls, and each room had its own gentle color schemes, from mauve to pale blue to leaf green.
“I could kill my son. That monstrous barn he bought, and he still hasn’t furnished it properly after all this time. I’ve offered to help, but he’s an independent cuss, if you haven’t noticed that already.”
“I’ve noticed,” Kay said wryly.
“Takes after his father. There’s another one who won’t take anything from anyone.”
“I gather that it wasn’t so easy raising the pair of them,” Kay said dryly.
Jane chuckled, and then said honestly, “They expect too much of themselves, always have. Mitch is even worse than his father. All those years-he couldn’t stand taking a thing from us. It used to eat at him, which was so damned foolish. This was the room where he grew up,” she said abruptly, flicking on a light switch.
For a moment, Kay intently studied Jane before glancing into the room. The mystery of his scar and now his mother’s comments-all those years? What years? Startled, she glanced slowly around the room-and then rather rapidly back to Jane.
“I know,” Jane said wryly. “You were expecting a bed and leftover teddy bears. Well, it was Mitch’s idea to put all that stuff in the attic. Even before he made a down payment on that house, he started remodeling this room-over my vigorous protests, I’ll have you know. He claimed his father always wanted a place to putter with stones…”
The room looked like Mitch’s octagonal turret, with a long bench and special lighting, microscopes and alcohol beakers for testing gems in solution… Kay was beginning to recognize the equipment.
“There’s one room that’s specifically Mitch, that he couldn’t do anything about,” Jane said with satisfaction. “Come on and I’ll show you.” She glanced back at Kay. “You’re free to interrupt, you know. The men are always telling me I talk incessantly.”
“You don’t at all,” Kay protested instantly.
“Yes, I do. I absolutely love to talk. Aaron calls it gossip, but you know something? It isn’t gossip. I don’t like to tell tales about other people-I just like people. And the things that happen to them… Now watch this step…” At the bottom of the elegant flight of mahogany stairs, Jane had opened a door to another stairway. These steps were carpeted, dark and flanked by a wrought-iron railing.
A cement-floored laundry room led through an organized storage area to another door. When Jane flicked on a light, Kay’s lips parted in surprise. Jane chuckled. “Believe me, installing this was no small feat.”
“I can believe that.” The last thing she’d expected to see was a regulation-sized swimming pool. The scent of chlorine filled her nostrils. Pale blue tile surrounded the pool, and the water was a clear, smooth aquamarine.
“Of course, we built it for Mitch, and we’d planned to drain it after he left, but Aaron and I have taken to going for a swim after dinner every night. My husband claims we’re getting too sedentary,” Jane said wryly. “Do you like to swim, Kay?”
“I…yes.” Kay turned from the mesmerizing color of the waters to smile at Jane. Of course we built it for Mitch? “I rarely had the chance to use a pool, but my family went camping every summer, always by a lake. My father used to claim I had webbed feet.”
“Mitch, too. I swear his skin was water-wrinkled all summer. I can remember when he was eleven, I thought he was going to leave home over the issue of a boat. He mowed every lawn in the neighborhood, and then, when he had saved enough money for a little sailboat…we said no. We thought he was too young.” Jane grinned at her. “Mitch was long on harebrained schemes at eleven, not particularly long on judgment. You see all these gray hairs?”