by Linda Turner
“It sounds like you’re going to be gone a while.”
His mind already on other things, he shrugged. “Probably a week, maybe longer. It just depends on how much trouble Applebee’s caused,” he replied as he shut and locked his briefcase. “Why? Is that a problem?”
Yes! she wanted to cry, and was stunned by the need to ask him to stay. What in the world was wrong with her? He’d hired her for this very reason—because he’d known business would crop up that would take him out of town—and considering what had happened between them last night, she should have been relieved that he’d be half a state away for at least a week. She wouldn’t have to worry about him touching her, kissing her, making her want something she couldn’t have.
But the emotion squeezing her heart had nothing to do with relief.
“No,” she hedged. “It’s just that I’m meeting with Kurt Elkins this afternoon to see about when he can start working on the attic. I thought you might want to be here. And then Thanksgiving is Thursday, and Friday night—”
“Is the lighting of the Christmas lights on the river,” he finished for her, “and I promised the kids we’d watch it from the back porch. Damn!” he swore softly. “I completely forgot!”
He sounded as disappointed as she knew the kids were going to be and found herself wishing that just this once, he would say to hell with business. But that wasn’t going to happen. She and the kids weren’t his family, and she couldn’t expect him to turn his back on business just because the kids wanted to spend the holiday with him.
“I’ll explain the situation to the kids,” she said quietly. “They’re old enough to understand that business can’t always take a back seat to a holiday. They’ll be okay with it. And their grandparents are going to fly over from New Orleans to see them if Ward is feeling up to it, so they’ll be excited about that.”
“And what about you?” he asked, studying her. “How do you feel about that? The kids lived with them before they moved in with you, didn’t they? If the grandfather is feeling better, is there a possibility that he and the grandmother are going to want them back?”
“Oh, no. Louise and I discussed that when she sent the children to me, and considering Ward’s heart condition, we both agreed that the kids needed to be with me. So, no, there’s no tug-of-war between us for the kids. And since my parents both died before the kids were ever born, she and Ward are the only grandparents they’ve ever known. I’m thrilled they’re coming, and so are the kids. They don’t have much family left.”
“I’d still like to be here. And everything’s going to be shut down on Thursday anyway, so it’s not like I’m going to get any work done. Don’t tell the kids in case I can’t pull it off, but I may be able to juggle a few things and fly back in late Wednesday. I’ll have to see how things go.”
“And what about Kurt Elkins? Did you want to meet with him?”
“No, you know what I want. Go ahead and schedule the work as soon as he can get to it.”
With that cleared up, there was no longer any reason to linger. His suitcase and briefcase were packed and his corporate jet was scheduled to leave in a little less than an hour. He should have left for the airport ten minutes ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave her. Not yet. They hadn’t had time to talk, to discuss last night, to so much as touch this morning. And suddenly he knew he was never going to be able to walk out the door without touching her one more time.
“I have to leave,” he said gruffly, and stood right where he was.
“Do you want me to take you to the airport?”
“No. I don’t like public goodbyes.”
Her eyes widened at that, her cheeks grew pink, and he had to hold her. Snatching up his briefcase, he set it next to his suitcase by the front door, then he was striding back to her to take her into his arms.
“Mitch!”
“I never expected it to be this hard to leave you,” he growled, and gave her a hard, too-brief kiss that left them both wanting more. Then, while he still could, he released her, grabbed his bags, and walked out.
Forty-five minutes later, when his corporate jet lifted into the air, he could still taste her on his tongue. Trying to put her out of his head, he turned his attention to work and got on the phone with leaseholders and their lawyers in an effort to win them away from Applebee before the old goat cost him a small fortune. It was what he did best, making deals, and he usually thrived on it. But even as his jet raced toward Midland and he set up meetings within fifteen minutes of his estimated arrival time, Phoebe and the kids kept drifting into his thoughts.
And the situation only got worse as the day progressed. He hit the ground running and made what concessions he had to to get the leases he needed, but it wasn’t easy. His concentration was shot, and at the most inopportune times, he found himself thinking about the feel of Phoebe in his arms, the kids and their reaction when they learned he probably wouldn’t make it back in time for Thanksgiving, their faces when they talked about Christmas and what they wanted Santa to bring them.
When he met with Chase Walker, one of the biggest ranchers in the state, to discuss wells that had long since been abandoned because of their lack of productivity, he should have been thinking of nothing but profit margins and the bottom line. Instead, he couldn’t forget the look on Becky’s face when she’d solemnly asked him to check her closet for monsters. She’d trusted him to keep her safe, and in the process, she’d stolen his heart right out of his chest.
“Mitch? Are you with us? I thought you wanted the figures from the last year that the big well on Monument Hill was in production.”
Jerking his attention back to Chase, he grimaced and took the computer printout the other man held out to him. “Sorry about that. My mind wandered there for a minute. Now, about Monument Hill...”
It was a long day. Although he never saw him, he knew Applebee was in the area—he was too good a businessman to be anywhere else—and he had to move fast if he was going to beat him at his own game. So he lined up meetings with a dozen ranchers, sealed deals with a handshake that was as good as a signed contract in that area of the country, and immediately moved on. By the time he finally checked into the airport La Quinta, it was going on nine o’clock at night and he couldn’t remember the last meal he’d eaten. But he’d salvaged eight of the twelve leases that had been in jeopardy, and that was more than he’d expected to be able to save when he’d left San Antonio that morning.
All in all, he should have been happy with the day’s work. Tomorrow morning, he would fly to Lubbock and the game would start all over again. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he would win, but when he walked into his rented room and shut the door behind him, the satisfaction he should have felt in knowing that just wasn’t there.
And for the life of him, he didn’t know why. This was what he did, dammit! He’d been on a thousand such business trips, stayed in so many hotel rooms that they’d all begun to look alike. Normally, he would have gone over the figures he would need for the following day, then grabbed a shower and gone to bed without even thinking about it. But not tonight. Tonight, the room was too quiet, too empty, and it was the last place he wanted to be.
Restless, wondering what the hell was wrong with him, he turned on the TV, but the medical drama that was the hit of the fall season held little appeal. Disgusted, he was about to turn it off when the phone rang. Figuring it was his pilot calling to confirm what time he wanted to leave in the morning, he picked it up and said, “Get us out of here by seven-thirty if you can, Joe. I’ve got a nine o’ clock meeting in Lubbock and I can’t be late.”
The caller, however, wasn’t his pilot. Sudden silence echoed with surprise, then a sweet, childish voice said hesitantly, “Mitch? Is that you?”
Stunned, he almost dropped the phone. “Becky?”
“Yes,” she giggled. “Are you surprised?”
That was putting it mildly. “You knocked me right out of my shoes, honey. How’d you know where I was?”
“Aunt Phoebe has your i-ten...i-ten-ry,” she finally managed. “You know—that piece of paper that says where you’re supposed to be. She showed me the numbers to punch so I could call you and tell you good-night. Did you check your closet for monsters?”
“Actually, I didn’t,” he said, grinning. “But I’ll be sure and do that before I go to bed. Did Phoebe scare off all of yours for you?”
“Yep,” she said happily. “She told them all to leave, and they did. Just like that! That’s ’cause she’s the boss. Did you know that? They have to do what she says.”
“They’d better if they know what’s good for them,” he chuckled. “She won’t take any nonsense from them now that she’s feeling better. Is everything else okay?”
She told him about school and the Christmas program she and the rest of the kindergartners were already practicing, then, in the background, he heard Phoebe tell her it was time for bed. “I have to go now. Nighty-night, Mitch. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
“I won’t, sweetheart. You sleep tight.”
He half expected Phoebe to come on the line then, but Becky hung up, and he figured it was just as well. Because the second he heard Phoebe call out that it was bedtime, he knew why he was so restless. He missed her—and the kids—like hell.
And the situation didn’t improve with the passage of time. For the next three days, he barely had a moment when he wasn’t meeting with someone or racing to keep an appointment. He should have been too busy to think of anything but work, but Phoebe and the kids were right there with him every step of the way. Then, when he checked into another La Quinta, this time in El Paso, Robby called just to tell him that they missed him and hoped he’d be home soon.
And it tore him up. If things continued the way they were, this would be the most successful business trip he’d ever taken, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so miserable. He was doing the right thing, the responsible thing as far as business was concerned, but for reasons he refused to examine too closely, he didn’t care if he won or lost to Applebee. He just wanted to go home, and he didn’t mean Dallas.
He still had business to conduct, however, and though he’d tried to arrange things differently, meetings were scheduled for as early as nine o’clock the Friday morning after Thanksgiving. He told himself it would be stupid to fly to San Antonio just for a meal, then turn around and fly right back to West Texas that evening. The practical thing would be to stay and try to wrap things up early on Friday so he could make it back to town for the river-lighting festival. Then, with business out of the way, he could spend the entire weekend with Phoebe and the kids.
The decision made, he spent Wednesday morning in meetings, just as he’d planned. But as the day lengthened, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to do it. He couldn’t go back on his word to the kids. This might be the only holiday he could have with them, and he wasn’t spending it halfway across the state from them. Not when he could negotiate some of the leases over the phone and handle the rest in whatever meetings he was able to cram into the rest of the day. He would get into San Antonio late, but better late than never.
He told himself he was doing it for the kids, but when he reached for the phone and started rescheduling meetings, he knew it was Phoebe he wanted to surprise.
Chapter 10
He wasn’t going to make it.
Listening to the grandfather clock in the foyer strike twelve Wednesday night, Phoebe accepted the inevitable. Mitch had warned her that he might not be able to make it back by Thursday, but deep down inside, she’d secretly hoped that he would. She’d told herself it was for the kids’ sake—she hated for them to be disappointed—but now, as each slow, deep strike of the clock echoed hollowly throughout the sleeping house, she was forced to admit that she’d stayed up because she hadn’t been able to let go of the hope that he might blow in with the norther that swept through the city an hour ago.
She should have known better. She had his initial itinerary; she knew he’d planned to canvas whole sections of West Texas and the panhandle. But there were some meetings that he wasn’t able to schedule before he left, and those might have to wait until after the holiday. Then there was the weather to consider. The norther that had sent the temperature plummeting in San Antonio had brought ice and dangerous travel conditions to North and West Texas. According to the last weather report she’d caught on TV, airports in that part of the state were forced to shut down hours ago. Even if Mitch had intended to make it back, he couldn’t have.
It wasn’t the end of the world, she told herself as she switched off the living-room lights and made her way to bed in the dark. As they’d hoped, Ward and Louise were flying in from New Orleans in the morning, and the kids were thrilled. There would be a lot of love and laughter and the stuff memories were made of, not to mention enough food to feed an army. The only thing missing would be Mitch.
She tried to convince herself she’d be too busy to even notice that he wasn’t there, but the ache that lodged where her heart normally was told her it was too late to lie to herself. Somehow the man had become much more important to her than she ever should have allowed, and there didn’t seem to be a thing she could do about it. Except hurt.
An hour after she slipped between the sheets, she was dreaming of him when she woke with a start, her heart, for no explicable reason, pounding wildly. Still half asleep, she rolled over and buried her face in her pillow. A split second later, something fell with a soft thud in the living room.
She froze, her blood suddenly cold in her veins. It was just her imagination, she told herself. But, much as she wanted to believe that, she knew she hadn’t imagined anything... especially the muffled curse that sounded like a shout in the quiet of the night. Someone was in the living room, and it wasn’t the kids.
Trembling, she soundlessly sat up in the darkness, her widened eyes trained on the closed bedroom door. She had to do something! But what? The phone was in the living room, so she couldn’t call the police, and she’d never be able to get the kids out of the apartment without alerting the intruder to the fact that he didn’t have the place to himself. And right now, that was the best weapon she had. If she could surprise him, catch him off guard in the dark, she might be able to run him off before he realized that the only thing standing between him and an apartment full of treasures, most of which belonged to Alice, was a terrified woman dressed in nothing but a Mickey Mouse nightshirt who didn’t have a single brave bone in her body.
Searching her mind for anything she could use as a weapon, the only thing she could come up with was Robby’s baseball bat. Solid wood, it could, she knew, do serious damage if she swung it with all her strength; and he kept it propped right in the corner, next to his bed. Soundlessly, she slipped out from beneath the covers and reached for it in the dark. When she encountered nothing but emptiness at first, she started to panic, but then her fingers closed around the familiar, reassuring weight of it, and she sighed in relief. Thank God! If Robby had moved it, she didn’t know what she would have done.
Holding her breath, the bat clutched tightly in her hands, she cautiously approached the closed bedroom door and pressed her ear against it, listening. In the living room, nothing moved. Her heart thundering, Phoebe didn’t fool herself into thinking that the intruder had left. He was out there—she could almost feel him in the hushed expectancy that vibrated on the night air. She hoped he was enjoying himself, whoever he was, because in about ten seconds flat, she was going to make him regret he’d ever even heard of the Lone Star Social Club, let alone that he’d broken into it.
Later, she never remembered easing open the bedroom door or slipping out into the shadowy hallway. Suddenly she was standing in the living room without any memory of how she got there, her eyes locked in growing horror on the huge, towering shadow of a man who appeared to be heading right for her in the dark. Instinctively, she lifted the bat and drew it back for a full, no-holds-barred swing.
In the next i
nstant, the lights flared on, the bat was jerked out of her hands, and Mitch was glaring at her incredulously. “What the hell are you doing?” he growled. “Trying to take my head off?”
Stunned, she went weak with relief. A split second later, his accusing tone registered. “What am I doing?” she echoed indignantly. “What does it look like I’m doing? I heard someone moving around out here in the dark, knocking things over, and I came out to brain them one! Dammit, you scared me to death!”
“I scared you? You weren’t the one who was almost on the wrong end of that bat! Dammit, woman, were you trying to get yourself killed? What if I really had been a burglar? I could have had a gun!”
“You didn’t.”
“But you didn’t know that when you came out here with that damn bat. You could have been hurt! Why didn’t you call the police?”
“How? There’s no phone in the bedroom!”
“So call the phone company and have one put in!”
“I wouldn’t need to if you’d let a person know you were coming.”
“I told you I’d try—”
“Then didn’t bother to speak to me the rest of the week. The kids called you and you didn’t even ask about me. I thought you might have decided that it would be better if we didn’t see each other for a while. It hurt, dammit!”
“Why would you even think such a thing? I missed you like hell!”
Standing toe to toe, their voices raised in anger, they threw the words at each other like darts and didn’t realize what they were both admitting to until it was too late. Hearts stopped in midbeat, and suddenly, the silence was deafening.
His eyes locked with hers, Mitch asked cautiously, “Did I just say what I thought I said?”
She nodded. “I think so. Did I?”
For an answer, he reached for her. “You’re driving me crazy,” he growled roughly as he pulled her into his arms. “You know that, don’t you? No matter how hard I try, I can’t get you out of my head.”
