Ain’t Misbehaving

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?”

“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.

The touch of her inflamed him; even the simplest kiss set off a driving ache that clawed at his stomach and shuddered through him like a demon. He knew if he made love to her that it wouldn’t go well. He’d lose control, because he came so damn close to losing control as it was. She’d find herself with a fumbling, inept lover who would utterly fail her… He couldn’t stand the thought of failing her.

He leaned over, softly nudging her chin up with his curved fingers. His lips brushed hers like a whisper, and she smiled.

“I thought you’d fallen asleep,” he teased.

“I…nearly did,” Kay murmured.

He kissed her again, unable to deny himself that contact, wondering exactly why he was asking for more torture yet inviting it anyway. Her head tilted back so temptingly; her lips parted under his. He couldn’t prevent his arms from tightening around her when he felt her fingers glide up into his hair, drawing him back in and closer.

Gently, his tongue stole inside her parted lips. He made love to her mouth as he wanted to make love to her body. An infinitely gentle probing, a stroke into her soft, moist hollows, a withdrawal to taste and tease and that insistent intrusion again, less teasing this time, but a claim, a fierce, sweet possession…

He drew back, his breathing erratic, every muscle in his body so tense with frustration that he had to suppress a groan. He traced a gentle finger on her cheek. “I intended to have you home early tonight. We’ve been up late every night for how many nights now?”

“Four out of five,” she murmured, but she certainly didn’t sound as if she minded.

“Tomorrow-”

“You promised to take me skating,” she reminded him.

As if it mattered what they did. He tried to smile, drawing back. “Nine o’clock, wasn’t that your idea?”

She nodded.

“We’d better get you in so you can catch a good night’s sleep.”

“I do need,” Kay murmured, “a good night’s sleep.”

There was a strange little inflection in her voice. Mitch’s eyes flickered swiftly on hers. Then he got out of the car, the wind whipping around him abruptly, and hurried over to her side. He tried to shield the wind from her as she stepped out. “Turning into a regular gale,” he said gruffly. “If we don’t hustle, you’ll be an icicle.”

He had her protectively tucked into his shoulder, yet she barely took three steps before she suddenly stumbled.

He grinned, tightening his arm around her as they moved toward the front door. “My mother’s port?” he whispered teasingly.

Her fingertips suddenly brushed her temples. “Mitch?”

Her voice sounded oddly weak, not at all like Kay. Alarm pulsed through him as he hurried her the rest of the way to the door. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Really, nothing.” She fumbled for the key in her purse, then suddenly leaned against the house, her face in the shadows so that he could see only her big dark eyes. “Mitch, I don’t feel well. So…dizzy all of a sudden.”

“All right. Just take it easy.” His voice was soothing, yet he instantly took control. With one arm firmly around her, he groped for her key, unlocked the door and propelled her into the warm house.

“I’m so hot…” She swayed in the doorway.

Not wasting a second, Mitch shoved the door closed behind them and groped for a light switch. Rapidly, he unbuttoned her coat, trying to get a good look at her. Her face was tilted down; he couldn’t see her eyes, but her cheeks looked flushed. When he’d tossed her coat on the chair, he half carried her to the couch. “Okay, now, honey, just sit down.”

“I keep seeing double of everything…”

“Head down.” She resisted the ignominious position of her head between her knees, but he insisted. “I’m going to get you a drink of water, Kay. Please stay there a minute.”

“No. I just… Stay with me, Mitch. I don’t want any water. I feel so…cold.”

A moment before, she’d said she was hot. Mitch frowned and hesitated a moment. Stay calm, ordered a rational voice in his head. Everyone got sick once in a while; Kay was entitled to feel ill, occasionally.

Only she wasn’t entitled. Not Kay. He couldn’t stand the thought of anything being wrong with Kay; he’d had too much pain in his own life and wasn’t about to let her suffer any. Aware that his reactions were both emotional and irrational, he scooped her up in his arms. “We’ll just get you into bed,” he said firmly. “And I don’t want any arguments. If you don’t feel better in a few minutes, I’m going to call a doctor.”

Her head abruptly jerked back against his shoulder. “There’s no need for that.”

He would have smiled at the sudden anxiety in her eyes, if he hadn’t been frantically worried about her. “You’re not scared of doctors, little one?”

“No. I just…my doctor doesn’t make house calls. In the morning, I can call him-if I still feel ill.”

“Who said anything about your doctor? Mine will be out here in fifteen minutes flat if I call him.” Kay was badly mistaken if she thought he’d trust her welfare to a stranger’s care. Mitch led her into her bedroom and sat down on the bed with her, glancing at the pale violet walls. The room even smelled like her. Pushing her head to his chest, he pulled off one sleeve of her sweater. “Where are your nightgowns, Kay?”

“Look. There’s no need for a doctor.” Kay’s voice was muffled through the angora sweater. “It’s just…shrimp.”

“Pardon?”

“Shrimp.”

He paused, then realized he had the sweater stuck over her head and quickly tugged it off. “You mean my mother’s shrimp?”

“I have…an allergy.”

Kay’s head hung low; he was afraid she was going to lose her dinner. “An allergy? How could you be so silly as to eat shrimp if you knew-”

“I…thought I’d outgrown it. It isn’t a stomach kind of sick-it’s just this…dizziness. And feeling so cold. Mitch, I’m freezing!”

“It’s going to be okay, honey.” He stopped only once to run a hand through his hair, then went into action. The bottom drawer held nightgowns, or negligees, or whatever you called them. None of them looked warm enough, not when her teeth were chattering. When he finally found what looked like a cozy garment, she’d kicked her shoes off and was trying to tug off her nylons.

“I’ll do that, dammit,” he said fiercely. “You just lie down.”

“I’ll be fine in…a while. Really, you can go home, Mitch. I’ve managed before…”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” He pulled off the stockings, then her skirt, then tried to put the nightgown on her.

“I can’t sleep in my-”

“I thought you’d be warmer,” he said flatly.

She shook her head, very weakly, her hair hanging like a curtain in front of her face. “It…binds.”

His fingers fumbled for the front hook, only to discover she’d opted for a back-hooked bra this time. A double back hook. Dammit. Couldn’t the woman decide which obstacle course to set in front of him?

But then it was off and her breasts were free, white and soft, for a moment almost spilling into his hands. A little ball lodged in his throat and wouldn’t let him swallow. He tugged the nightgown over her head.“I have to take off my-”

“All right.” He slipped his hands underneath the striped flannel nightgown to pull down her satin half-slip. Rather than hear another argument, he slipped off the black satin panties as well. “Now get under the covers!”

Goodness. That sounded distinctly like a roar delivered between clenched teeth.

Kay, you are a wicked, immoral woman, her conscience informed her. And you’d certainly better make this good, because he will never forgive you if he discovers you’re putting on an act.