“I don’t see a one,” Kay insisted.
Jane laughed, and they wandered back upstairs, still chatting. Mitch intercepted them in the kitchen-actually, he reached out and snatched Kay from behind his mother’s back. Winding his arms around her waist, he snuggled her against his chest and burrowed a kiss in her neck. “Now, don’t you believe anything my mother’s been telling you,” he growled.
“Take your hands off her, Mitch. You’re not taking her home yet. She’s agreed to stay for a few hands of bridge.”
“Kay would never do that to me,” Mitch informed his mother.
They played until ten. Mitch, for all his voluble protests, was an excellent player who remembered every card, to his mother’s annoyance. Every time Jane made one of her more “creative bids,” as she called them, Mitch and his father exchanged amused glances.
Aaron had claimed Kay for a partner, his slow winks and half smiles not quite ethical but certainly helpful to Kay, who hadn’t played much of the game. Aaron was the kind of man who very quietly took care of people.
Mitch was the same way. Though they’d talked of going to a movie after the dinner at his parents’ place, Kay expected that was merely to ensure that she wasn’t forced into more of his parents’ company than she was initially comfortable with. Once he saw she was honestly enjoying herself, he no longer pressed their leaving, but more than once she caught his eye on her, assessing her comfort, waiting for a sign that she wished to leave.
She gave him no such sign, but when the rubber ended just before ten, he stood up and announced that they ought to start for home. Jane looped an arm through Kay’s as she walked her toward the door. “I haven’t had near enough time to talk to you,” she complained. “I never even asked you about your family-big, small, medium-sized?”
“One sister,” Kay responded. “Jana’s younger than I am by eight years. My dad’s an engineer-he worked here at the university for a number of years. Five years ago, they moved to Connecticut.”
“You must miss them, especially around the holidays.” Jane delved into the closet for their coats. “Do you like children, Kay?”
Mitch coughed ostentatiously. “Mother.”
“I withdraw that question.” Jane gave her son a disgusted look. “You know, I was having a lot more fun talking with Kay when you weren’t anywhere around.”
“Were you?” Mitch asked wryly.
“In fact, you can go home and I’ll just keep Kay.” Jane winked at Kay. “Next time, just come without him.”
“And wear earmuffs,” Mitch advised, piloting Kay toward the door.
“I heard that. Aaron, are you going to let your son talk to me that way?”
“Could I get in a word?” Kay asked, laughing. “Dinner was terrific. I had a wonderful time-thank you for inviting me.” Impulsively, she reached over to give both Jane and Aaron a hug, before Mitch’s gloved hand captured hers and drew her firmly out the door and toward the car.
They were both laughing as he started the engine, and shivering as well. Huge snowflakes splashed on the windshield; the night had turned cold, and in the distance the lake was swallowing up the crystal flakes in its still black surface. “I wanted you to meet them,” Mitch said wryly. “But I didn’t have in mind subjecting you to five hours of my mother’s less than subtle questions.”
“I love her,” Kay insisted.
“I do, too.” Mitch patted her hand. “And I’ll bet you’d hold up well under Chinese water torture.”
Kay chuckled. “It sounds as if you put her through torture when you were a kid. The boat, when you were eleven?”
Mitch groaned. “Not that old story.” He shot her a sideways glance. “I was a nice kid. Really, I was.”
“Sounds to me as if you were hell on wheels. The stories you told me were tame next to the ones your mother remembers.”
“Hey. Who are you going to believe? My mother or me?”
“Your mother.”
“Talk about fickle. I’m going to trade you in for a more gullible model.”
Kay leaned back against the headrest, smiling. The heat kicked in, puffing through the vents in wonderfully warm waves. Through sleepy eyes, she regarded Mitch. His hands were firm on the wheel and he was battling icy roads, yet his tone was light and his smile relaxed. He hid things so very well.
The evening had uncovered more secrets about him. His parents were affectionate but not possessive or clingy; Kay could see the respect Aaron had for his son. Mitch had hardly been a pampered only child if he’d had to mow lawns at eleven-yet there was the pool.
Kay frowned slightly in the darkness. Something still bothered her about the pool. The Cochrans, for all the comfort and tasteful furnishings of their home, did not strike her as extravagant-and the lake was right there to swim in. Jane had said of course it was for Mitch, as if she’d taken for granted that Kay understood…something.
She half turned her head, still studying Mitch. He’d worn a brown sweater and dark flannel pants tonight. Even in the shadows of the car, she could see his strong profile, the deep-set eyes, the slash of a lazy smile when he felt her eyes on him. He was really an incredibly handsome man, yet those deeply etched lines on his forehead were more than just marks of character, and as she looked at the streak of white hair she wondered suddenly how she could have been blind for so long.
Mitch had been ill. Really ill.
The scar, the white hair, the lines, his unwillingness to talk about his recent past, and maybe even the pool had something to do with it. As she continued to look at him, she could excuse herself for not guessing before. He seemed so vibrant, so healthy and dynamic. The Marlboro Man was a sissy compared to the special brand of virility that Mitch so naturally radiated.
“Why so quiet?” he said softly.
“I thought you had enough to do just driving on these icy roads.”
“Nothing to worry about,” he assured her.
She shook her head. “I wasn’t.” Not as long as he was at the wheel. It was Mitch who had something to worry about, she thought wryly. Because his plan to leave her at her door like a gentleman was about to go awry. She had her own plan.
An hour later, Mitch pulled into her driveway. Tension played at the back of his shoulders and arms. The roads had turned increasingly glassy, not that he would have pointed that out to Kay. It hadn’t been the easiest of evenings as it was. After two mentions of Kay’s name, his mother had started pushing to meet her; he’d wanted his parents to meet her, but he hadn’t wanted his whole history laid out before her. And, apparently, it hadn’t been.
Perhaps he should have been easier on that score. His mother might be gregarious, but she had respected his desire to keep his heart problems a family secret from the day she’d learned it mattered to him. Still, he was relieved that the evening was over. Shutting off the engine, he glanced at Kay.
She was sleepily curled up on the passenger seat, his temptress. Her lashes curled on her cheeks, all delicate shadows, and her lips looked red and invitingly soft against her white face. She was buried in clothes, her collar tucked up against her chin, not even her soft angora sweater showing beneath the coat. Considering he could barely see an inch of exposed flesh, he wasn’t quite sure why just the look of her turned him on like a power switch.
He’d done his level best to keep his physical distance in the past few weeks. His level best was a failure. Not touching her was impossible…yet the more he touched, the more he felt that barrier of inhibition at the thought of making love to her. Time wasn’t helping.
He wanted Kay. He’d rather do without sunlight than stop seeing her; he could barely remember what his life had been like before he knew her. She warmed the wintry places, lit up the darkness, filled the big, empty spaces.