by Janet Dailey
She paused, glancing over her shoulder to see him standing in the doorway. He looked disturbingly attractive in a knee-length robe of camel brown, one sleeve empty and the bulge of the cast beneath the tied front.
'Hello, Mitch.' She swallowed and curved her mouth into a taut smile. 'I was on my way to Mr. Sullivan's room with some more papers. I—I was going to stop in to see you on my way out.'
'I somehow didn't think there would be any errand that would bring you back today,' he smiled slowly.
'It came up suddenly.'
'I'm glad.'
'Yes … well.' Susan breathed in deeply, bowing her head to break away from the blue glitter of his eyes.
'Would it upset everything if you came here before going to his room?' Mitch asked, gesturing down the hallway with his right hand.
Susan hesitated indecisively. 'No, no, I don't suppose it would.'
But she walked very slowly toward Mitch, not quite knowing what she was going to say to him now that the moment had arrived sooner than she had anticipated. He stepped aside to let her pass, meeting her nervous sideways glance with a faint dimpling smile.
A few steps inside the room, she stopped short, meeting the curious and speculating gaze of the brawny man sprawled in the chair beside the bed.
'Excuse me,' she stammered, turning quickly to Mitch. 'You should have said you already had a visitor. I'll come back later.'
Mitch blocked her path to the door with casual ease. 'Stay,' he insisted. 'Mike was just leaving, weren't you, Mike?' Mitch glanced pointedly at the man with the thinning dark hair.
The man's mouth turned up at the corners, smiling at some secret thing as he pushed himself out of the chair. 'That's right. I was just leaving.' He didn't leave, but stood there expectantly waiting for an introduction.
'You needn't go on my account,' Susan said quickly.
'Honestly, miss, I was about to leave before you came,' the man assured her in an amused voice. Still he waited.
Out of the corner of her eye, Susan saw Mitch shake his head in resignment. 'Susan, this hairy-chested Irishman is Mike O'Brian, my pit boss and sometimes my friend. This is Susan Mabry, Mike.'
'I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. O'Brian.' Her hand was lost in the hugeness of his.
'Mike,' he corrected her formality with a friendly smile. 'I recognized you, Susan.' At her blank look, he added, 'From the restaurant.'
Her cheeks warmed as she realized he must have been one of the men who had joined Mitch the first time she saw him. A swift glance at Mitch caught the narrowing look he gave Mike, warning him into silence.
Mike released her hand. 'It was nice meeting you.' Then he turned to Mitch. 'We'll be pulling out in the morning, so take care.'
'I will,' Mitch nodded affirmatively. 'Don't enjoy your vacation too much. I shouldn't be in this cast very long.'
'You wait until the doctor tells you to take it off or I'll break it again for you!' Mike smiled his threat.
There was a brief clasp of hands between the two, then Mike left the room. Susan felt Mitch's gaze on her and moved toward the window.
'You're looking much better today,' she said to fill the silence.
'The dizziness seems to have gone, so the doctors let me up,' he replied. 'Now that you're here, I'm feeling much better.'
Susan fingered the leather case in her hands. 'Don't say things like that, Mitch.'
'What did I say?' His voice held false innocence.
'It wasn't what you said but what you implied,' she answered, pressing her lips together tightly.
He walked slowly toward her. She could hear his footsteps bringing him nearer, but refused to turn around.
'And you don't like it when I imply that I find the sight of you stimulating to the senses,' Mitch stated.
'No, I don't.' Susan stared at the whiteness of her fingers clenching the case handle. 'You can't keep ignoring the fact that I'm engaged.'
'I don't ignore it, exactly,' he corrected with faint amusement. 'But, since you don't like me to tell you how very beautiful you are, we'll talk of other things. Greg came to see me last night and your father looked in this morning while he was doing his hospital rounds.'
Susan sighed, a crazy kind of misery welling up inside. She turned from the window, meeting his level gaze. She wished for the calm possession displayed in his handsome face.
'This isn't going to work either,' she protested lamely. 'I can't make small talk. I was going to come here today because there was something I wanted to tell you.'
His gaze moved to the top of her head. 'Do you know when the light hits your hair just right it has a fiery glint, crimson red like flames? Yet your hair is such a very dark shade of brown.'
'Don't try to change the subject, Mitch. I'm serious.'
'So am I,' he agreed. 'In certain lights, your hair is definitely red.'
'I don't want to discuss the color of my hair. That's not why I came.' Frustrated, Susan turned back to the window.
'I know why you came,' Mitch said quietly. 'You came to tell me you aren't going to visit me any more.'
Her head jerked toward him in surprise. 'How did you know?'
'Call it a calculated guess,' he shrugged indifferently, and stared out the window. 'What happened? Did your jealous fiancé find out that you'd seen me and forbid you to come?'
'He didn't forbid me.' She wasn't about to tell him that Warren had tried. 'And he didn't find out, I told him.'
'You told him and he didn't forbid you to see me? I find that hard to believe.' He grinned crookedly at her, his bronze features glowing attractively in the sunlight.
'I never said he liked the idea,' Susan protested as her pulse quickened under his glittering look. 'He doesn't altogether understand why I'm seeing you.'
'Do you?' Mitch taunted softly.
'Yes,' she looked quickly away. 'It's never any fun being in a hospital, and not having any visitors makes it even worse. I—I was trying to be kind and compassionate.'
'I see,' he drawled with an undertone of amusement. 'Now you've decided that to keep peace with your fiancé, it's best not to see me any more.'
'That's what I decided,' Susan agreed, unconsciously touching the diamond solitaire on her finger. 'I have to be fair with Warren.'
'I'm afraid you have a problem.'
'What?' She slid a wary sideways glance at his face.
Mitch continued to gaze complacently out the window. 'The doctor will be releasing me from the hospital tomorrow morning or Friday at the very latest.'
'And?' Susan frowned, not seeing how that news would present her with any difficulty.
'And,' there was a wicked light in the blue eyes when he looked at her, 'your father has invited me to dinner on Friday night.'
'No,' she denied in a small voice.
'Yes,' Mitch nodded firmly.
'But you can't go!' she protested.
'I have already accepted the invitation.'
'You can phone Dad and tell him you can't come,' Susan insisted. 'You can think of some excuse to refuse.'
'But I'm not going to refuse,' Mitch said patiently.
'You must.'
'Why? I like your family and I'm looking forward to one of your mother's home-cooked meals. I don't see any reason I should deny myself the pleasure simply because you have a jealous fiancé. He's going to have to learn to trust you more.'
'Warren trusts me,' Susan defended.
Mitch chuckled softly. 'Of course, it's me that he doesn't trust, and with good reason. He knows I want you.'
'Stop saying things like that!' She spun away from him, angry at him for not refusing the invitation and for the daring and disturbing statement he had just made. 'I'm engaged to Warren!'
'You are beginning to sound like a broken record,' he taunted.
'I'll repeat myself a thousand times if that's how many it takes before you accept what I'm saying!' Her eyes flashed angrily at his mocking expression.
Sobering, Mitch studied her intently for several l
ong seconds, gazing so deeply into her eyes that she had the uncanny sensation that he knew what she was thinking. Then, slowly, his firm male mouth grooved into a smile, carving faint dimples into the smooth, lean cheeks.
'You only have nine hundred-odd times to go,' he told her.
'Oh!' Her foot stamped the floor in a childish tantrum. 'It's hopeless trying to reason with you! Warren said you were much too conceited, and he was right!'
'Do you mean Warren isn't always right? Her outburst only deepened his mocking smile.
Blinking back the furious tears of rage that scalded her eyes, Susan stalked from the room.
'I'll see you on Friday night.' Mitch's parting jibe was followed by a throaty chuckle that whipped her already raw nerves. If she had looked back she might have gained some satisfaction from seeing his immediate grimace of pain because of his cracked ribs.
Almost an hour later, she tapped on the connecting door to Warren's office, waiting for his summons before entering. He glanced up from the papers spread before him, straightening against the tall-backed leather chair as he recognized her.
'Did you get the papers safely delivered to my father?' But his dark, inspecting eyes asked an entirely different question.
'Yes, I did.' Susan walked to his desk and handed him the keys to his car.
'Good,' Warren nodded, and paused expectantly.
Susan's arms were stiffly held to her sides. She knew she could avoid answering his unasked question. She also knew she could avoid mentioning Mitch's intention to join her family for dinner on Friday evening. Unfortunately there was an excellent chance that her family, especially her brother, might not be so silent about it.
'I saw Mitch today.' Susan tried to make it sound like an unexpected happening that was of little importance. Warren said nothing and waited. 'I told him I wouldn't be visiting him any more.'
'Susan!' Warren breathed warmly. He leaned forward in his chair, a smile lightening his imposing and rugged features.
'Wait.' She held up a cautioning hand. 'There's something else I have to tell you.'
His dark head tipped to the side in wariness. 'What?'
'My father has invited Mitch Braden to dinner on Friday night and he has accepted.'
'Your father! Good God!' Warren breathed in deeply, a black mask stealing again over his face. 'Why?'
'How should I know why?' Susan shrugged with bewildered anger. 'I suppose it was a combination of reasons. My family have already met him. My father is a racing fan and I guess he got along rather well with Mitch the last time. Greg practically hero-worships him as you know. Mother agreed, probably because she felt sorry for him, because of the accident and all. In any case, he's coming to dinner and there isn't anything I can do about it.'
'I wouldn't be surprised to learn that he did everything but ask to be invited,' Warren muttered 'And I'm tied up Friday night. I wonder if he knew about that, too.'
'Really, Warren, he isn't omniscient,' she chided.
'Sometimes I wonder about that Indy man.' He shook his head. 'I just don't like the idea of you being alone with him for an entire evening.'
'With Greg and Amy and Mom and Dad, I'm hardly going to be alone with him,' she pointed out.
'You know what I mean.'
'Yes,' Susan agreed, knowing that in some way Mitch would make his presence felt. 'If I thought I wouldn't have to do a lot of tall explaining to Dad, I would arrange to be out. Besides, I don't want it to look as if I'm running away from him.'
'You're right,' he conceded. 'You might as well plan to be home. He might as well see that you belong to me even when I'm not around.'
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Chapter Six
'MORE coffee, Mitch?' her mother offered as he sat back in his chair.
'Nothing more, thanks, Beth,' he replied, shaking his head and raising his hand in refusal. 'My ribs are already saying I've eaten too much.'
Susan's teeth grated against each other. Less than half an hour after Greg had brought him from his hotel, Mitch had been calling her parents by their Christian names. The easy friendliness between them irritated her.
'More remembered last time that you said Swiss steak was your favorite, so she fixed it especially for you tonight,' Amy said. 'And I helped.'
'I guess I have to divide my compliments to the chef between the two of you,' Mitch smiled. 'I'm flattered that you remembered, Beth.'
'Thank you.' Her mother was momentarily flustered and Susan seethed inwardly.
'There's nothing that can replace a home-cooked meal,' her father stated.
'I'd forgotten what I'd been missing,' Mitch agreed ruefully.
'Yeah, but you lead such an exciting life.' Greg glanced at him enviously. 'Mom's a great cook, but—' He shrugged his shoulders to indicate that food was not important compared to the adventures Mitch had known.
'I thought the same way when I was your age, Greg.' The mockingly raised brow held gentle understanding. 'But ten years of living in hotels and eating in restaurants can make a man reevaluate his thinking. Hotel rooms can be very sterile and lonely when you have to walk into them night after night.'
'Haven't you ever considered settling down?' Beth Mabry asked with maternal concern.
Through the veil of his spiky dark lashes, his blue eyes glittered at Susan. She met the look with determined indifference.
'Until recently, I was much too busy.' His gaze swung back to her mother. 'A time or two I've considered buying a house or renting an apartment so I could say I had a home base. But without someone to share it with, it would have been no different from a hotel room.'
'You're a very attractive man. I find it hard to believe you haven't found anyone you were willing to share a home with,' Beth Mabry laughed with gentle disbelief.
'You have to realize I'm seldom in one place long enough to really get acquainted with anyone. And the chances of meeting someone—say, like your daughter—' Mitch looked at Susan again, but she kept her eyes downcast, knowing they were flashing with temper again, 'is unlikely in my profession.'
'And when you do, the girl is probably engaged, like myself,' Susan couldn't resist inserting in sugared tones.
'Exactly,' Mitch agreed.
'I still think it would be an exciting life,' Greg insisted. 'When I get older, that's what I want to do.'
'If you live that long,' Simon Mabry said dryly.
'You used to drive race cars, Dad. I'm just taking after you,' Susan's brother pointed out with a sly grin.
Mitch glanced to her father, his head cocked inquiringly on one side. 'You didn't mention that, Simon.'
'It was years ago, when I was in college,' he shrugged. 'At the time it seemed like an easy way to pick up some extra money. When you're young and foolish, you do a lot of things without thinking about the risks.'
'Why did you quit, Dad?' Amy forgot her young lady act and curled her feet beneath her on the straight-backed chair. 'You could have become a famous racer like Mitch.'
'Two reasons, actually,' he smiled and glanced at his wife, sitting at the opposite end of the table from him. 'The first being the fact that I met your mother. For a while, even after we were married, I rather enjoyed the image of being the dashing adventurer until she told me one night that Susan was on the way. That rather woke me up to the responsibilities I owed to my future family. I had planned to continue racing until Susan was born so I could have the extra money to pay the doctor and hospital bills. Then one day I was working on my car—I couldn't afford to share my small winnings with a mechanic—and the wrench slipped. I broke all the fingers on my left hand. At that point, I realized that what I really wanted to be was a doctor and I was terrified that the injury to my hand might have finished that dream for good. It didn't. The very next day after the accident, I sold the car.'
'When you get married, Mitch, will you give up racing?' Amy propped an elbow on her knee and rested her chin in her hand.
'No, I don't think so,' he mused absently. 'Eventually
I'll have to, of course. Unlike your father, I want to race cars. It's my life.'
'Isn't that being slightly arrogant?' Susan said tightly. 'What you would be telling the woman you married is that this is your life and she can take it or leave it. Surely she has some say in your joint future?'
A steel blue gaze focused on her, his expression unyielding yet not cold or angry. 'I'm willing to take her as she is and not attempt to change her. Is it wrong to expect the same in return? Or even arrogant?'
Susan looked away from the unwavering directness of his gaze. Her small bubble of indignation was pricked by his reasonable request.
'I suppose not,' she admitted with quiet reluctance.
'It would be rather like asking Warren to give up his law practice, wouldn't it?' her mother put in rhetorically. 'A woman would learn to adjust to the dangers of your job in the same way that I've accepted the life of a doctor. I never thought of it like that before, but it's true.'
'I don't see what all the fuss is about,' Amy declared airily, uncurling her legs and rising from the chair. She tossed her head, sending her long hair dancing about her shoulders and catching fire from the overhead light. 'I think it would be super to be married to a race car driver.'
Greg laughed. 'Everything with you is "super." The dinner was "super." The movie was "super,"' he mimicked.
'Oh, what do you know about it?' Amy accused, her temper flaring that her brother should make fun of her in front of Mitch.
Beth Mabry rose to her feet. 'I think it's about time we made washing the dishes "super."'
'Come on, Mitch,' her father grinned. 'That's a signal for us to leave the room before she ties an apron around our waists.'
'It was a delicious meal, Beth,' Mitch offered, wincing slightly at the pain in his rib cage when he rose from the chair. Then he winked at Amy. 'Prepared by a pair of "super" cooks.'
Amy giggled and quickly covered her mouth with a hand as if wishing she had made a more adult reaction. Susan's mouth tightened grimly as she quickly began stacking the dishes on the table rather than watch her father and Mitch leave the dining room.
Her younger sister was dreamily watching him go. He seemed to have her entire family in the palm of his hand, Susan thought disgustedly.
