by Janet Dailey
'I'll finish the salad when I come back, then,' Susan nodded, and walked toward the kitchen door that led directly into the garage.
As she opened the door, she heard Mitch say, 'Try it again, Greg.'
Her brother was partially sitting behind the wheel of his car, the door open, and Mitch was bending to look under the hood. Greg turned the key in the ignition. There was a whining growl and nothing happened. With an impatient grimace, Greg stepped out and walked to the front of the car where Mitch was intently studying the motor.
'Greg, Mom wants you to take the charcoal out back and get the grill started,' Susan told him, her gaze unwillingly drawn to Mitch, who didn't even look up at the sound of her voice.
He was wearing a pair of soiled overalls in a deep shade of azure blue, the plaster cast on his arm concealed behind the zippered front.
'Not now, Susan,' Greg muttered with a dismissing glance. 'I'm busy.'
'If you want to eat before dark, you'd better go do it now,' she replied. 'It won't take you that long.'
'You might as well.' Mitch straightened. 'This isn't something we're going to fix in a few minutes.'
And still he didn't look at Susan. Ever since Saturday night he had seemed to take her existence for granted, as if her presence in the house didn't warrant any special attention. Mitch hadn't ignored her, but he had treated her no differently than he had the rest of the family. He could have been her older brother.
'Oh, all right. I'll start the stupid grill,' Greg grumbled, his lanky frame moving with a long stride to a corner of the garage where the bag of charcoal briquets sat. Picking it up, he roughly shoved open the rear door leading into the back yard and kicked it shut with his foot.
Mitch started to fiddle with something under the hood and Susan turned to leave, not really certain why she had waited.
'Would you mind lighting me a cigarette, Susan?' Mitch asked absently. 'My hand is all greasy. The pack is sitting on the work bench. The lighter should be there, too.' He waved in the general direction of the counter built into the rear wall of one side of the garage.
Susan hesitated briefly, then walked to the counter, littered with various kinds of garden and mechanical tools. She took a cigarette from the pack and lit it, surprised to find the hand that held the lighter was trembling slightly. She turned to give it to him as he walked toward her, an absent frown of concentration on his handsome face.
Instead of reaching for the cigarette, his right hand removed a rag from the work bench. His head tipped sideways toward Susan, indicating she should place the lit cigarette in his mouth. She did so reluctantly, but he barely seemed to notice her at all.
'Thanks,' he offered, speaking through the cigarette between his lips. He tried, ineffectively, to wipe the worst of the grime off his hand. Then he sighed. 'How does a man with one hand wash the dirt off that hand?'
'That's a good question,' Susan laughed shortly. The amusement that glittered in his eyes was casually friendly. It was impossible to take offense at his comment when he was directing it against himself. 'I suppose you'll have to have someone else do it for you.'
'I suppose so,' he agreed, squinting his eyes against the smoke before gingerly removing the cigarette from his mouth with two still darkly soiled fingers. He arched his back slightly and winced at the pull the movement exerted on his injured rib cage.
'You really shouldn't be working on that car,' Susan said reprovingly, 'not in your condition.'
'I'm only giving Greg a hand.' Mitch smoothly dismissed the idea that he might be overtaxing himself. 'He's doing all the heavy work.' He leaned against the counter and ran an appraising eye over her dress. 'This is Tuesday night, isn't it? That means you have a date with Warren.'
It was a casual comment without an undertone of mockery. 'That's right,' she admitted cautiously. 'He'll be here to pick me up in a little while.'
'You don't sound very enthusiastic.' He tipped his head to the side, a pose of vague curiosity.
'I—I don't know what you mean.' Her chin lifted slightly as if she sensed a coming need for a defensive attitude.
'The man you're engaged to is going to be here in a little while, and you sound so matter-of-fact about it,' he explained with indifference.
'Well, it is a fact,' Susan shrugged, a faint frown of bewilderment clouding her forehead.
'Aren't you excited about seeing him again?'
'I just saw him when I left the office at five,' she reminded him. 'It isn't as though I haven't seen him for a couple of days.'
'Of course,' Mitch agreed with a wry smile. 'I guess I was letting myself be influenced by a lot of romantic nonsense. I assumed that you would miss him no matter how short the time since the last time you saw him.'
'Naturally I miss him,' Susan retorted, almost too quickly.
'Naturally?' A brown brow arched with arrogant mockery. 'You sound very offhand. Are your dates becoming too routine?'
'What do you expect me to do? Fling myself in his arms every time I see him?'
Mitch smiled. 'I'm not expecting anything. I was only commenting on the fact that you seem to display little emotion where Warren is concerned.'
Her head lifted to a haughty angle. 'I save any emotional display for when we're alone,' she informed him icily.
'Then the two of you do indulge in a little necking?'
'I don't see that it's any of your business.'
'It isn't, not really.' The laughing blue eyes moved to her mouth, thinned into a disapproving line.
'Then you shouldn't have brought it up,' Susan replied with biting arrogance.
'I couldn't help it. You have a very kissable pair of lips, and I didn't like to think of them going to waste,' he mocked.
'I assure you they don't.'
Her heartbeat skipped erratically as he studied the movement of her mouth when she spoke. It was unnerving. Susan could feel a warmth start in her midsection and slowly begin to spread through her veins.
'I wonder if anyone taught Warren to share when he was a little boy,' Mitch mused absently, his gaze not wavering from her mouth.
Her breathing became shallow and restricted. She knew she had to escape and quickly. That indefinable magnetism was reaching out for her.
She averted her face sharply. 'I have to go and help Mom in the kitchen.'
One step was taken and Mitch moved fluidly to block her way. An arm was stretched out to rest a hand on the garage wall to obstruct one avenue of retreat while the length of his body took care of the second. Behind Susan was the work counter and to one side was the wall. She was very effectively trapped.
'Will you please step out of my way?' But there was a betraying tremor in her voice.
'Bribe me.' The grooves around his mouth deepened, faint dimpling lines appearing in his lean cheeks.
Susan swallowed nervously and took a step backward. Mitch didn't follow. He didn't have to because there was nowhere she could go to escape him.
'Let me through, please.' It sounded more like a plea than the order she had intended to issue.
'Warren will never know I stole one of your kisses from him unless you tell him,' Mitch reasoned, flashing her one of those devastating smiles that made her heart turn over. 'What's the harm in one kiss? Neither of you will miss it.'
'No!' Susan made a small, negative movement with her head, not taking her wary eyes from him.
In her mind, she was considering the chances of successfully pushing her way past him. His movements to stop her would have to be hampered by his injuries.
As if reading her mind, Mitch spoke softly. 'It would be a shame if that pretty dress you have got soiled by this combination of grease, oil and dirt. Then you'd have to change clothes and make poor Warren wait. You have a choice, beautiful. You can try to force your way by me, in which case I'll simply take my kiss. Or you can willingly give it to me and not get all messed up.'
'You are a blackmailer,' she accused in a low, taut voice.
The wicked glint in his eyes only g
rew brighter. 'Which is it to be?'
Wildly Susan searched for a third alternative and couldn't find one. With snapping fire in her brown eyes, she stepped toward him. Mitch obligingly bent his head, a suppressed smile of mockery grooved in his cheeks. Lightly she brushed the warmth of his lips with her own and withdrew immediately.
The golden brown head moved to the side in patient despair. 'I said a kiss, not a brotherly peck,' he scolded mockingly.
Susan breathed in sharply. 'That isn't fair!'
'I haven't time to play fair. Are you going to do it right?' Now the blue eyes were daring her to kiss him, silently chiding that she didn't have the nerve.
Nibbling uncertainly at her lower lip, Susan wondered if she did. Then she threw caution to the wind and moved toward him again. Her gaze scanned his handsome face, taking in again the challenging glitter in his brilliant blue eyes.
Her lashes fluttered down as her lips trembled against his mouth. Although she didn't draw away, it was still a mock kiss, a stiff touching that only outwardly resembled a kiss.
'Like this, honey,' Mitch said against her lips.
His mouth close warmly over hers, melting the rigidity that had held Susan back. The soft persuasion of his kiss had her yielding before she realized what she was doing, and by then the sensations rushing through her were too firmly in command to try to check.
The sweet possession of his mouth had her reeling. Her hands spread themselves against his chest to steady herself. The beginnings of a fiery response had just started to be offered when a door opened.
The sound brought Susan sharply back to reality as she realized what she was doing. Quickly she pushed herself away from Mitch, her head jerking toward the rear garage door. Her fear-widened eyes met Greg's stunned expression before swinging with accusing embarrassment to Mitch's calm face.
A faintly triumphant smile touched the sensual male lips that had seconds before rocked her common sense. Mitch returned his outstretched arm to his side and stepped back to let her go by him. She stalked angrily away from him.
'Wow,' Greg whistled. 'Wait until old Warren finds out about this!'
Susan stopped in front of her brother, tears of shame and frustration gathering in her eyes and turning them liquid brown. 'If you say one word of this to Warren, Gregory Allen Mabry, so help me I'll …'
But no suitably chastising threat came to mind. Her mouth snapped shut and her trembling legs carried her swiftly to the connecting kitchen door.
The memory of that kiss haunted Susan for days. Each time she saw Mitch after that her gaze unwillingly strayed to the firm masculine lips, and again the impact of their touch would flood through her. It was frightening to remember her physical reaction to the essentially forced kiss.
What was worse, Mitch knew she had been disturbed by his kiss. The light in his eyes reminded Susan of it every time he looked at her, although she made certain no occasion occurred that would leave her alone in a room with Mitch.
If only she could explain to herself the strange ambivalence of her emotions. She was engaged to a man she loved and respected, yet she had experienced physical desire for another man. How was it possible?
She sighed dispiritedly.
'What's the matter, darling?' Warren probed softly.
'Hmm? She glanced at him blankly, forgetting for a few minutes where she was and whom she was with. She shook her head slightly, his question sinking in. 'Oh, nothing. Just tired, I guess.'
'You've been preoccupied nearly all week,' he commented, turning the car into the driveway of her home and switching off the engine.
'Nonsense,' Susan lied with a shrugging smile as she moved contentedly into his arms when he half turned in his seat.
His mouth closed masterfully over hers. It was an experienced kiss meant to arouse the response that it did. But Susan was disappointed again at the lack of chemical combustion. An ache throbbed painfully in her heart because she couldn't stop herself from comparing Warren's kisses with Mitch's. It wasn't right to do it and she hated herself for it.
'I wish I didn't have to go in,' she murmured as he nuzzled the lobe of her ear.
'You're certainly having trouble making up your mind,' Warren spoke in a curiously amused tone. 'A minute ago you said you were tired and now you say you wish you didn't have to go in.' He drew his head away, gazing at her intently. 'That Indy guy hasn't been bothering you, has he?'
'Oh, Warren, don't be silly,' Susan denied with a brittle laugh. 'Of course he hasn't.'
'Well, he'd better not.' The unspoken threat was obvious and Susan shifted uncomfortably in his arms. 'Come on. It's after one o'clock,' Warren announced. 'You'd better be getting in the house or else you'll find yourself getting ready for Sunday morning church without any sleep.'
He didn't allow Susan an opportunity to express her opinion as he moved her out of his embrace and stepped from the car. She stared at the darkened windows of the house and wondered how she was going to get through the whole of tomorrow—no, today it was now—with Mitch underfoot all the time.
Still silently considering that problem, she accepted Warren's hand out of the car and walked to the front door nestled under the crook of his arm. At the door, he stopped and turned her into his arms.
'I wish we were already married,' Susan sighed wistfully as she raised her head for his goodnight kiss. 'Why do we have to wait until August, darling? Why don't we get married now, in June?'
'Because we've already made all our plans with the intention of getting married in August,' he said patiently. 'Father will be fully recovered by then and I'll be able to take time off for our honeymoon. Besides, all our friends know of our plans. I respect you too much, Susan, to suddenly throw our plans aside and elope. That would raise too many eyebrows.'
'I suppose so,' she agreed submissively, and knew she had only been seeking a coward's way out of her dilemma. Mitch would be leaving before the month was out anyway and he would be taking that fleeting physical attraction she felt with him. It was only a matter of time.
'Good night, darling' Warren kissed her tenderly.
'Good night,' she whispered when he released her and walked to the car.
She stood in front of the door, lifting a hand in farewell as he reversed out of the drive. Then she reached for the doorknob, the door unlocked as she knew it would be.
Stepping inside, she closed the door and leaned against it for a few weary seconds. She breathed in deeply and exhaled a long sigh before straightening and turning to lock the night-bolts. They had just clicked into place when someone rapped lightly on the door.
Susan froze. 'Who is it?'
'It's me,' a quiet voice answered. 'Mitch.'
Quickly unlocking the door, she opened it, staring at him with curious wariness. He was leaning lazily with one arm propped against the door frame. Her brows drew together when he failed to walk in.
'What are you doing out there?' she asked.
'Walking and thinking.' Susan thought she detected a weariness in his voice. 'I wouldn't have bothered you except that I was afraid you would lock me out. I would hate to wake up the whole household in the middle of the night so someone could let me in.'
Glancing at the navy shirt that matched the check of his slim-fitting trousers, Susan noticed that he had worked the long sleeves over the cast on his left arm although it was still held in a sling.
'It's awfully late,' she said with faint curiosity.
'I wasn't waiting up for you, if that's what you're thinking,' Mitch smiled wryly. 'I couldn't sleep. My arm was bothering me too much. Healing pains, I guess.'
'Oh,' Susan offered in a tiny voice. 'Would you … would you like me to get you something for it?'
'You mean a pain pill? No, thanks,' he refused. 'The pain isn't so bad that I can't endure it. It's a beautiful night. I'll just wander around out here for a while and see if I can't take my mind off it.' He straightened from the door, the moonlight glistening with a silvery sheen on his brown hair.
Sy
mpathy surfaced instantly. 'Are you sure there's nothing I can do?' Susan offered.
Mitch hesitated. 'Well, you could—' Then he shook his head and stepped away. 'No, never mind. You wouldn't want to anyway. Don't lock me out, Susan. Goodnight.'
'Wait,' she called hesitantly. 'Was there something I could do?'
He shrugged slightly. 'I was going to ask if you would want to walk with me for a while, just so I could have someone to talk to instead of thinking about this throbbing in my arm. But I know you're probably thinking that I had something else in mind. I know you don't trust me, so let's just forget about it.'
'What would we talk about?' she asked.
Mitch looked back at her. The expression on the handsomely tanned face was solemn and serious. There was no mockery, not even a suggestion of it lurking anywhere near the surface.
'We could compare the new Offy with the Cosworth engine,' he stated indifferently, 'or the price of tea in China. It doesn't matter, Susan. Forget I mentioned it.'
'We would just talk?' she asked for his confirmation of his earlier statement again.
'I won't promise that, Susan,' Mitch sighed heavily. 'With you, I never know from one minute to the next. Right now all I can think about is the needles stabbing my arm. If you want to walk with me, then all right, let's go. If not—well, I understand why and we'll forget it.'
'I'll come,' she said quietly, and stepped through the door, shutting it behind her, 'for a while,' she qualified.
'I'll try to behave,' Mitch smiled faintly with a half-promise.
It was a warm summer's night, quiet and lazy. Midnight dew glistened with tiny diamond drops on the grass and leaves. Crickets chirruped in somnolent competition with the cicadas in the trees. The houses lining the streets were dark. There wasn't a moving thing in sight.
Stars shimmered softly, sprinkled over the nearly black sky. The moon, lopsided in three-quarter stage, was a pale gold, changing to silver.
In a mutually agreed silence, Susan and Mitch wandered into the back yard where the spreading limbs of a maple tree shaded Beth Mabry's rose garden. Beneath a thick limb was a bench swing, ivory white in the night shade. The scent of roses filled the air.
