Ain’t Misbehaving

Chapter Nine

“Yes,” Kay said breathlessly.

“I won’t push you into making love. I just want to wake up with you in the morning, that’s all.” He tilted her head back to see a strange play of emotions on her face. “I mean it. We’ll just sleep. I won’t-”

“All right, Mitch.” Her voice had all the solidity of Jell-O. Her bones, too. When he picked her up in his arms, she wound her hands around his neck, her eyes frantically searching his face as he carried her over to the bed.

Just sleep? Every square inch of her body suffered instant withdrawal symptoms. She’d been about to say please very nicely, and it certainly wasn’t to just sleep.

Kay was touched as well as startled. Touched that he was willing to be that sure of her feelings before they made love. An old-fashioned man was terribly hard to find. Someone who respected as well as wanted her, someone who wanted to love as well as be loved.

He slid back the spread and blankets and eased her onto the cool sheets with a soft, lingering kiss on her mouth. Looking down at her, his eyes were as dark as his black opals, with just as much latent fire. Leaning over her, he unbuttoned and then tugged off her skirt with a single glance up, as if to confirm that she didn’t object to the intimacy.

She didn’t. When he drew the covers over her, he kissed her again. “Give me a minute to get the lights,” he murmured.

She waited, feeling both bemused and bewildered. When she heard him downstairs, turning off lights, she slipped off her stockings and settled under the covers.

The wind had become a wintry howl. Mitch was back in short order. In the darkness, he removed his pants and shirt and then slid into the bed beside her. Most possessively, he tucked the thick comforter around her chin before deliberately shifting to his side of the bed.

Kay waited expectantly. She had the measure of exactly how aroused he’d been just a short time before; the man took fire at even the slightest touch, but in the most giving way. He was special, so damned special.

And he was going to reach for her; she knew he was. And when he did, she would certainly forgive him for his good intentions. The point was that he’d meant them honorably, and anyway, at the moment she wasn’t overflowing with good intentions herself. It had been a very long time since she’d really wanted someone. It had been forever since she’d wanted anyone as badly as she wanted Mitch.

But he didn’t reach for her. She could hear his breathing; he wasn’t asleep. In time, she edged toward him, and then a little closer, and then curled around him like a kitten. At first, he reacted with utter stillness, but then his arms wrapped around her and he drew her cheek to his chest. His heart thumped a staccato beat in her ear, making her half smile. Mitch was not going to find it all that easy just sleeping.

She didn’t expect to either, but she was so incredibly surrounded by warmth. Desire became a narcotic, the darkness like a lover’s curtain. Such total trust…she couldn’t remember feeling that with another human being. With a sigh, she closed her eyes.

Watching her sleep, Mitch was fascinated. Dawn was sending the faintest light in at the windows, a gray color tinged with dusty rose that just barely illuminated the room. Kay’s lashes curled up on her cheeks, like black velvet on cream.

She was a sprawler, he’d discovered. During the night, she’d kicked off the covers and then twined around him for warmth. Every time he covered her, she just kicked off the blankets and gravitated toward him again.

At the moment, she was wearing a black half-slip, scarlet bikini panties, and the comforter. The sheet had disappeared hours before. The last time he’d tugged the comforter around her chin, the slip was wound around her waist and her bare breasts were trying to nuzzle against him. If that wasn’t enough to deprive a man of rest, the feel of her long slim leg tucked between his…

He hadn’t slept much.

“Mitch?” Sleepily, Kay’s eyes opened to discover Mitch propped up on one elbow, his eyes inches from her own. She smiled groggily. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Watching you wake up,” he murmured.

“That’s no fun.”

“That’s how much you know.” It would be so easy to reach under the covers, to stroke that warm, silken skin as he’d stroked it in the night. So easy to take her… She stretched sleepily, like a wanton cat, her eyes moody with sleep and her smile unbearably seductive. Easy to make love to her?

His body informed him that it was criminal not to. His head knew exactly what body part went where. That aspect of it wasn’t a problem. It was doing it right, pleasing her, the fear he’d damn well rush like hell, hurt her, not love her well…not love her the way he wanted to. That he’d disappoint her…

So, his hand slipped over rather than under the covers, over the curl of her shoulder and into her hair. He leaned toward her, and his lips touched her forehead. It wasn’t a kiss, but a craving to know what her sleep-warmed skin felt like. “You need,” he murmured, “blueberry muffins.”

“Pardon?”

“Muffins.”

She shook her head. Surely, that look in his eye would lead to a caress-but he vaulted most determinedly out of bed.

She noted that he’d slept in a T-shirt and Jockey shorts-undoubtedly in deference to her virtue. Darn lucky for his virtue that he wasn’t still within arm’s reach. The Jockey shorts really didn’t fit very well in the condition he was in. But she probably wasn’t supposed to notice that-he’d turned away as quickly as he could.

Still, she noted with approval that he wasn’t overly self-conscious about his body. He certainly shouldn’t be. He had an honest ripple of muscle in his shoulders, a flat, taut stomach and hard, smooth legs. Also, a flat little fanny that made her smile. The man was pure male, built on neat, strong lines, just the one bulge exactly where it should be and the rest physically fit without making a big deal out of it. At the moment, she was inclined to make a big deal out of it, and wished he’d get back in bed.

“Mr. Cochran?”

He tugged on a velour robe, glancing up as he belted it. “You just stay right there. I’ll bring up some coffee and muffins.”

He brought back the coffee and muffins and watched her strew crumbs from one end of the bed to the other as she waved a muffin around while she talked. The pillows were plumped up behind her, and the comforter tucked under her arms provided only the barest protection for his sanity.

“I can’t believe you can make muffins like this!” she exclaimed. “Heavens, if I thought I could get breakfast in bed every morning, I’d marry you, Cochran.”

“It’s just amazing what a woman will say when she’s exhausted. And you certainly should be. You did calisthenics all night, kicking and thrashing around.”

Kay hastily swallowed. “Did I keep you up?” she asked guiltily.

“Once I had you pinned down so you couldn’t move, I slept just fine,” he lied.

“So you’re that kind, Cochran.” Kay nodded sagely

“That kind?”

Kay waved her hands expressively as she reached for another muffin. “Bondage,” she clarified.

“I should have thought of that last night,” Mitch said thoughtfully.

Kay chuckled. “I’ve been accused of being trouble to sleep with before.”

“Have you?”

“Don’t come to any dirty conclusions, Cochran. I shared a double bed with my little sister until she whined for my parents to get us twin beds.” She cocked her head, licking a smidgen of blueberry from her finger. “Was I really that much trouble?”

“I’m still alive,” he assured her, “but barely.” The only thing in his head was dirty conclusions. Other men who’d covered her up. Other men who’d had the right to. He reached over to flick a crumb from her chin, his touch so gentle she could barely feel it, his head filled with not so gentle thoughts about murdering any other man who touched her.

“Mitch.” She reached for a napkin, and the comforter slipped to reveal every damn curve. “You’re being remiss as host,” she said teasingly.

“Pardon?” He forced his eyes up.

“A spare toothbrush,” she suggested mildly. “A comb. A little soap. It’s going to be bad enough going home looking like a bag lady, with saggy hose and wrinkled outfit and straggly hair. But I have a sneaky feeling that there are mascara smudges under my eyes-”

“There are,” he affirmed. He liked them. Actually, he was fascinated by them. Her makeup had begun to wear off before they’d gone to bed; he’d been intrigued by that process in itself. The flawless matte finish had gradually eroded to reveal a trace of freckles across her nose. Obviously, she was sensitive about them. But he couldn’t imagine why she wore the mascara; her lashes were already thick and soft, and those tiny flickers of black on her cheeks somehow made her look incredibly vulnerable.

He loved waking up with her. She was natural and easy and woke up in good humor, ready to start a day she already knew would be good. How could it not be good? She was in it.

Kay loved waking up with him. She’d been afraid it would be uncomfortable, awkward. It could have been-with some men.

But not with Mitch. Sex or no sex, there was a delicious feeling of intimacy between them this morning. There was laughter when he draped his robe around her, and more laughter as he stood gravely in the bathroom doorway long enough to “find out whether you squeeze the toothpaste in the middle.”

The kitchen looked post-bomb-squad after his simple exercise of making muffins. Mitch seemed startled at the mess he’d made, and his expression made her laugh again. She puttered around, cleaning up, because she liked puttering in the morning, while Mitch glared at her over his coffee cup, because by that time in the morning he obviously liked his cup of coffee, but he didn’t like the idea of her cleaning up his mess.

She didn’t like the idea of going home. He didn’t like the idea either, but she didn’t realize that until they were in the car and he pinned her down at every stop sign for a kiss. The kisses were getting disgracefully long by the time they arrived at her door.

He claimed she tasted good, and that he was hungry. He hadn’t had any breakfast; she’d eaten all of the blueberry muffins.

She would have to serve him breakfast, lunch and dinner, if he’d come inside with her.

But he left her on the doorstep.

“Kay?” Stix gave the front door a token knock-once he’d opened it and was already inside.

Lying on the carpet with a book in her hand, Kay garbled an “over here!” through a mouthful of apple.

“I can’t see anything but your feet,” Stix said with amusement. Her bare feet were propped up on the sofa. When Stix peered around the couch, he just shook his head. “You can’t be comfortable.”

Kay chuckled. “I’ve been reading upside down ever since I was a little kid. I can’t break the habit now. Good morning, incidentally. You’re certainly up at a disastrously early hour-for you. Particularly on a Sunday morning.”

“I came to talk to you.” Tossing his jacket on a chair, Stix made his way to the kitchen. After a moment, Kay heard him making coffee and reflected that by the time Stix actually married, she would have him very well trained for domestic life.

In the meantime, she yawned and returned to her book. Last night the temperature had hovered around ten degrees, and when she’d awakened to a white December morning, laziness had hit her like a submarine. She’d roused herself long enough to make breakfast, build a terrific fire and grab a pillow and a book. Her jeans and crewneck sweater were old and baggy, ideal attire for a somnolent winter morning.

Engrossed in her book, she barely glanced up when Stix set the steaming coffee mug down beside her. “Did you know,” she asked him, “that if you wrap some catnip in a chamois and hold it in your hands until the catnip gets warm, the next man to hold your hand will fall in love with you?”

“Is this a quiz?” Stix eased himself down on the floor, his long legs taking up more space than her entire body. Pushing up the cover of her book, he read, “Modern Day Witchcraft. I see your reading’s taken a decidedly intellectual turn, shortie.”

“You want to hear another good one?”

“No.”

“You take five strands of the woman’s hair and three strands of the man’s hair and weave them together, then toss them into the fire. This causes the man and the woman to be consumed by passion for each other.”

Stix looked patient. “Could we at least give serious conversation a whirl?”

“Certainly.” Kay set the book on her chest with a grin. Propping a pillow behind her, she reached for the coffee mug and took a sip.

Stix leveled her a steadfast stare, then cracked his knuckles like a nervous adolescent. “You know, it’s only ten days until Christmas. Are you planning to spend it with your folks?”

“Nope. Mom and Dad are taking a cruise, leaving on the twenty-sixth. Didn’t I tell you that?”

“No, you didn’t. What about your sister?”

“Jana’s planning to go with them. As always, it depends on her health.” Kay’s eyes clouded. “She’s been doing terrific lately, but from month to month that changes. She wants so badly to take a full-time job, but I don’t know if she can handle it.”

“You didn’t tell me that, either.” There was a plaintive note in Stix’s voice that made Kay’s eyebrows arch in surprise. “You free this afternoon? I thought we’d do a little ice skating. John’s set up a rink-”

She shook her head. “Can’t, Stix, but thanks. Mitch is picking me up at three. We’re going to his parents’ house.”

“His parents?” Stix echoed.

“You know. The people who brought him into the world. It’s a fairly common, phenomenon-” Stix’s booted foot nudged her thigh, and she chuckled.

“That’s exactly what I came to talk to you about, dunce. The birds and the bees.”

“I’d rather read. I teach that stuff all week.” She grabbed her book and opened to the appropriate page again.

Stix got up long enough to seek out the Sunday paper in the wicker stand by the couch. Folding himself back down on the carpet next to her, he crackled the paper and promptly buried himself behind it. “He’s becoming a fixture around here. I thought I just might bring that to your attention.”

“Are we by any chance talking about Mitch?” Kay asked demurely.

Stix rattled his paper irritably. “Let’s see,” he drawled. “Last Monday I found you both curled up in front of the TV set watching a horror movie.”

“A thriller, not a horror movie,” Kay corrected absently. Mitch had repeatedly rooted for the villain. After which they’d walked the streets of Moscow in the dead of night. Even her navel had been frostbitten, she’d told him when they’d come home. He’d gravely inspected her navel, and thawed it out with his tongue. And then he’d left her, very gentleman-like.

“And last Tuesday you were out. Which of course doesn’t necessarily mean you were with-”

“We were looking for furniture for his place,” Kay said defensively. She hadn’t wanted to go. She’d explained patiently to Mitch that she had no taste. He’d dragged her to Spokane anyway, just in time to see the stores close. At least the restaurants were open, and he’d fed her oysters. A first for her. Their rumored aphrodisiac qualities had worked for him all the way home; he’d had to get off the highway twice to taste various parts of her body. And then he’d left her at her door, very gentleman-like.

“Wednesday, too?”

“Wednesday, too.” On Wednesday Mitch had convinced her he was honestly serious about needing at least a couch. They’d even made every effort to hit the stores while they were still open, but when it came to trying out couches they’d gotten sidetracked. Mitch had gotten sidetracked. Comfort for necking was not a serious criterion in purchasing couches, and after trying out at least a dozen, they’d returned home empty-handed… Well, Mitch wasn’t quite empty-handed. And to her total shock, he’d left her at her door, frustratingly gentleman-like.

“Thursday you took the entire neighborhood cheering section to hear him speak at-”

“The university.” He’d looked so grave standing at the lectern. Grave and dominating and…fascinating to listen to. Mitch had talked of the mineral resources that had been destroyed over the years as a result of careless mining-the supply of gems alone could be critical to Idaho’s future. They’d finished up that talk at one in the morning at her house, over mugs of Irish coffee, and after that he’d left her at the door, disgustingly gentleman-like.

“Friday you canceled the poker game. You were taking a drive-”

“To Hells Canyon.” An insane place to fool around in winter. She’d been so out of breath from climbing that she was gasping-who would guess he’d take her up on such a crazy idea anyway?-and then they’d both missed the winter sunset, because he’d gotten the harebrained idea he was going to chase her laughter. He’d chased her, all right. When he caught her, he’d pinned her down. And when they’d gotten home at midnight, he’d done his usual doorstep routine, which was becoming increasingly maddening.

“And that was only last week.” Stix flapped the sports section. “Now, this week-”

This week’s activities had begun on Monday night. The not very glamorous activity was making goodies for the school Christmas bake sale; why did she continually volunteer for these things? The entire place had been sticky before they were through, and Mitch had cornered her in the back hall…

“Mrs. O’Brien thinks it’s charming. She’s delighted with you. Susan grins whenever your name is mentioned. The boys are counting on an additional regular for the Friday-night poker games. Everyone thinks it’s terrific,” Stix said darkly. “I’d just like a guarantee that you’re not out of your tree.”

“Hmm?” Kay whirled around. How long had she been staring into the fire?

Stix sighed. “You seem to have lost the thread of this conversation.”

“No, I haven’t, you sweetheart.” Kay twisted around and sat cross-legged. “It’s about time we had a talk about these protective instincts of yours. The problem is that you need a home of your own. People to take care of. One of these days you’re going to forget the trip your parents laid on you, and figure out that you don’t have to have a marriage like theirs. This devil-may-care bachelor’s life has gone on long enough.”

Stix looked faintly alarmed. “How did you manage to twist this entire conversation so fast? We were talking about you.”

“Samantha isn’t the one, dammit. Liz was, and still is. You think it’s an accident you only go for long, leggy blondes? You and Liz have both been extremely stupid for the last three years. If she’d married someone else, you’d be stuck, but as it is you can at least try one more time.”

Stix rapidly lurched up on his long legs. “Look, I don’t know how you got started on that, but don’t be ridiculous-it’s been over for years. The only thing Liz wanted was a ring around her finger and a houseful of kids.”

“Exactly what you want, you fool. Basically you’re a homebody. You can’t stand to be alone-you’re forever fixing things around here, the kids in the neighborhood gravitate toward you as if you were a pro football star, and you’re lonely as hell. I hate to have to tell you this, but you were born to be married,” she said smugly. She handed him his coat, since he seemed to be looking around wildly for it. “As for me,”she added firmly, “I can take care of myself. It’s you who can’t.”

“Look, Kay…”

“It’s easy to dish out advice, but not quite so easy to take it, now is it?” she asked sympathetically as he opened the front door, then turned back with a deliberate scowl.

“I’d just feel a great deal better if I knew him,” he said flatly.

“You do know Mitch. And you said you liked him.”

“That was as a man’s man.” Stix stuck his hands in his pockets and stared at the ceiling. “Listen,” he said gruffly. “You’re protected and all that?”

Kay burst out laughing.

He glared at her. “Just because you go around teaching it and all doesn’t mean that you’re overflowing in the sense department yourself. You’re a sitting duck for some guy with a really smooth line.”

“Thanks so much.”

“You’ve always opened your door to just anybody-witness, myself. People ask you for the shirt off your back and you strip-”

“Not literally,” Kay interrupted.

“That’s a relief. And another thing. You’re too damned honest. Men lie. There aren’t many women like you running around, you know, and if you think some guy wouldn’t take all he could get-”

“I think that was a backhanded compliment,” Kay murmured.

“Because if he’s putting the moves to you without some commitment behind it- Are you in love with him?” Stix asked abruptly.

Kay rose up on tiptoes. “Give us a kiss now and be on your way. I’m exhausted after all this advice.”

“You’re exhausted?” Stix gave her a peck on the cheek and pushed open the door. “You’re worse than a sister. I can’t handle all this responsibility!”

“Out!”

Three hours later, Kay was leaning over the bathroom sink, applying makeup. Every cosmetic bottle and tube she’d accumulated over the past ten years was piled on the counter in front of her. Ella Fitzgerald was serenading her from the stereo in the living room.

Ella was bubbling about the lady being a tramp.

Kay stroked some mascara onto her eyelashes, and then leaned back to judge its effect. Stix, she considered glumly, was an extremely amusing man. He was so darn sure she was having a wildly erotic affair with Mitch.

The fact was, Ella should be singing the old one, “Ain’t Misbehavin’.”

She was beginning to think Mitch’s favorite pastime was turning Kay on…and leaving her high and dry.

Shoving the makeup containers back in the drawer, Kay wandered back to the bedroom to slip on her shoes. After deliberating over three other outfits, she’d finally settled on a pale green angora sweater and forest-green skirt. She was comfortable in the outfit, and she wanted to feel at ease when she met Mitch’s parents.

Rapidly, she took a brush to her hair, letting the strands fall loose and smooth to her shoulders. Just washed, her hair always looked streaked, a mane of gold and brown. Tonight, her eyes had a troubled luster-mascara-induced in part, but not all. Her mirror reflection reminded her that the soft angora of her sweater emphasized her high breasts and the simple A-line of her skirt showed off her legs. The effect of the outfit was supposed to be subdued, suitable for parent-meeting.

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.