She glanced behind and noted even her pup had surrendered to Mitch’s presence. "Look at Spooky. He’s more relaxed now. He thinks you’re safer to canoe with than me." Reacting to his name, Spooky glanced up at them, then returned to peacefully surveying the water, looking for anything that moved.
"He knows skill when he sees it." Mitch’s grin caused a fluttering of guilt inside her. She hated to think being devious was the only way out of her predicament. But there was no other approach. With sleazy friends such as Bull, he must have sources he could check out and refer to her. She needed the fake papers soon. Time wasn’t on her side.
Against her lawyer’s wishes, she had gone to the hospital and visited the man she had shot. Now, considering what he must have meant, she’d never forget their conversation: "I’m so sorry that I shot you," she had told him with deep-felt sympathy.
"Lady, if it takes me forever, I’ll get justice for this."
His unpleasant reaction wasn’t deserved; he’d brought his problem on himself and she’d hoped for a forgiving response. "I’ve said what I came to say. If you can’t accept my apology, that’s up to you." She had turned and walked out, never looking back.
When she’d complained to the police about what the creep had said, they had passed it off as merely a disgruntled response to his situation. The sergeant had mentioned he belonged to a motorcycle gang in another province and had been here visiting with his wife. He suggested she take a vacation and hopefully the biker’s emotional stability would improve.
She knew her emotional level needed improving, too. She’d lost control the night he’d invaded the transition house. She’d put aside all her interactive relationship training and didn’t know why. Why had she not pressed the button to bring the police? The entire incident was a blitz of reactions that avoided the one safety valve they’d had at the house. The damn buzzer would have brought help on the run. The police station was on the next block.
Mitch eased the canoe against the dock. "Any other time you want to go out, let me know. I’m a canoe chauffeur at your service."
"Thank you, Mitch. I just might take you up on that offer." He held the canoe steady, while she and Spooky exited. She did the same for him.
"I’ll see you at six." She waved when he looked back, just before he entered the trees.
Jen fixed herself a light lunch then prepared a Devil’s Delight pudding cake. While it baked, she tackled the screen door’s hinge and found, with a little effort, it wasn’t beyond her mental and physical capacity to repair it. She scrutinized the porch floor and realized she didn’t have many options; she was thankful for that. It could be a great excuse for asking Mitch’s help and perhaps lead to getting the papers she so desperately wanted.
At five forty-five, Jen realized that her car hadn’t been returned and wasn’t in Mitch’s driveway either. At five-fifty she strolled down the lane leading to his cottage. Balancing a salad in one hand and dessert in the other, her hands were filmed with sweat by the time she climbed his veranda steps.
"Mitch?"
The barbecue hadn’t been turned on. Since it was obvious he hadn’t yet returned from town, Jen placed her food on the porch table and flopped down on a step.
"C’mon Spooks, let’s go to Mitch’s dock and wait for a while." The dog raced circles around her heels waiting to see which direction she would take.
The soft breeze off the water cooled her skin but spiked her restlessness. She’d been anxious to get her plan underway with the enticement of her culinary expertise and a pleasant evening’s conversation. Maybe she should rethink the matter. She was dealing with an unpredictable element, one that probably had little to do with friendship. Mitch was only interested in romps with wild females.
"Let’s go, Spooky. I’m having second thoughts. Do you suppose Mitch has taken off with my car?"
Spooky cranked his head to one side, his eyes shining with spirited intelligence. His ears perked up as if to answer, but the sudden turn of his head showed he heard something that she didn’t. He barked with excitement when a car rumbled into the driveway of her cabin.
"There he is, Spooks, thank goodness." Jen didn’t restrain the little dog’s lively approach to the muscled mass cutting through the grove. She felt exhilarated too.
Mitch dumped the tire with a certain flourish. Jen laughed, covering up her awareness of how his presence caused such a rapid switch in her mood. The reds and golds bursting forth in the change of season seemed brighter. Even the shimmering water made her more cognizant of the thrill that could be found in a stimulating environment. Every time she saw Mitch, desire stirred deep in her being and sparked an urgency to be closer to him. This wasn’t good.
Five
When he parked Jen’s car in her yard and glanced over at his place, Mitch saw the relief in Jen’s eyes through a break in the trees. He hurried through the grove to join her. Her quick change to a halfhearted smile didn’t hide her suspicion. He knew she wasn’t the most trusting person in the world and probably worried he might not return. His ragged appearance didn’t inspire confidence at the best of times, nor did his connection with Bull--she had a right to be wary. He walked with a light step though, happy to see her. "Here are your keys. By now you must have convinced yourself I’d taken off with your car."
"Am I that easy to read?"
"Seems so, Ms. Murray. Leastwise for me, you are." His eyes slithered across her bosom, then he saw her face turn crimson. She looked much nicer with natural color in her cheeks as opposed to the lipstick he’d had her smear on last night. "I ran into a problem in town and it held me up. Sorry."
"With the tire?"
"With your car. I had to have it put up on a lift because of a leak in the fuel line." He shifted his feet, uncomfortable with the lie, but he’d had to meet with his sergeant.
Her eyebrows furrowed. "How much do I owe you for getting it fixed?"
"Nothing. I may have damaged it when I drove last night. We hit a few bumps, or don’t you remember?"
"I remember, and I think I’m lucky it’s in one piece. What about your tire?"
"I owe you an apology... there was a nail in it. I am sorry, Jen. I shouldn’t have sounded off at you."
"You got rid of my leeches. We’re even."
"You’re right." He stooped and patted Spooky on the head. "Hey, the mutt seems to like me."
Jen smiled when Spooky raised his front paws up on Mitch’s pant leg. The soft press of his lightweight body begged for a scratch under his chin. Mitch obliged.
While his attention appeared to be on the pup, Mitch’s mind focused on the trouble he’d run into earlier. When he’d driven from a clandestine meeting with the sergeant to discuss Bull’s offer, he’d noticed in the rearview mirror that he’d picked up a tail. A black sedan had been following him at an unobtrusive pace. It had taken many twists and turns through the Halifax streets to shake whoever lurked behind him. He jostled his concentration back to Jen’s smile.
"Anyway, I’m here and we can get some grub underway. That stuff on the table looks good enough to eat right now. Oh, I got you a couple of salt licks. They’re in the back seat. Toss one under the wharf a half-hour before you go for a swim." Mitch turned on the barbecue, then climbed the steps to the veranda. "Come on in, while I get washed up."
Jen entered his domain and quickly scanned the interior. He noticed the curiosity in her eyes, but keeping her voice steady, she tried not to show it. "This is a beautiful cottage, Mitch. I like tongue and groove knotty pine."
Mitch lathered his whiskers with shaving cream and peered at her from behind the bathroom doorframe. "The owner didn’t spare much expense when he built this place."
"Who is the owner?"
"Ah... One of the city aldermen. I got his name from a friend and found out it was for rent the rest of the summer. Want to take the steaks out of the fridge?"
"You’re going to shave?"
"No, such luck." He laughed. "I’ll just get some of the grime out. After
I move out, I’ll shave. Then maybe you’ll see the real me. Want to help with supper?"
"Sure. I’ll get the dishes and set the table. Are you planning on moving out soon?"
"It depends on where my work takes me." He pointed to one of the cupboards. She grinned and nodded.
As she collected the dishes they’d need, she asked, "Do you like your job?"
"It has its ups and downs."
~ * ~
She wished she understood the meaning behind the twinkle in his eyes. Jen felt self-conscious. It wasn’t that she’d never seen a man getting cleaned up before, but this time it tickled her insides. She grabbed at the chance to disengage from this surprise and explore the cupboards. There was nothing the small kitchen lacked. Once she’d pulled out everything needed for setting the table, she looked around and admired the large living room with its stone fireplace stretching to the open rafters. A couch and two chairs, covered in a blue and red plaid, clustered on a multicolored rag-braided rug. The eclectic infusion of cozy relaxation toned down her shyness. When she sat down on a chair in front of the large plate glass window that overlooked the lake, she curled one leg underneath her. Her eyes wandered up to the loft. Her first inclination was to run up the wrought iron spiral staircase for a quick peek at what must surely be a love nest. She silenced the needling urge but couldn’t subdue the vivid thoughts of her imagination.
"Want to see upstairs?"
Damn. Was he reading her mind again?
"Oh, no. That’s fine."
"Come on, Jen, admit it. You want to see where my harem lays about."
As he brushed the towel across his hairy chest, her pulse points turned into hot burning pokers. Her skin matched the flare. This response to his sexiness would get her in trouble. Her voice snagged on a gulp. "Look, I’m sorry about some of the things I said last night. You had me perturbed, and I lashed out."
"I asked for it, don’t apologize. Let’s put it in the past. Deal?"
"Deal."
"Okay, so wait until I toss the steaks on the grill, then I’ll show you the rest of the place."
While he was busy with the meat, she gazed at the scenery. The splendor of his window’s view generated a smidgen of envy. This was the ideal setting for a romantic tryst with someone special. Did his girlfriends consider such an unkempt body appealing? She had more refined tastes, preferring gentle manners and conservative dress. Most of all, when she thought about it, she appreciated polite, respectful approaches. Why did she find herself so interested in him? Surely it couldn’t be that old adage that ‘opposites attract.’ Of course not. It was just a temporary preoccupation with something new and decidedly different. She’d never put up with the asinine aggressiveness which seemed part of Mitch’s makeup.
When Mitch returned, clad in fresh jeans and a navy shirt, he pointed toward the staircase. She ascended the steps hanging onto the railing, conscious of the wet trail left behind by her handgrips. She’d begun to perspire the minute he’d removed his shirt. Now, with the pressure of him behind, pleasurable tingles spiked the back of her neck, then tracked down her back. She was out of breath when she reached the top, more from his proximity than from the climb. When she spied the skylight, she forgot about the war on her nerves. A spread of pinks, grays, and gold, from the setting sun exploded in all its glory. The sheer beauty forced her to gasp. When she looked toward the floor, her body heated even more.
A king-size mattress and box spring, placed directly on the hardwood, occupied most of the space. Jacketed with huge feather pillows, the head of the bed lay pressed against the iron spindles that composed the loft railing. The occupants need only lie on their stomachs to watch a cozy fire below them. Suddenly, she wanted to be one of the occupants watching the firelight dance on the walls. Her mouth opened in amazement at the image in her mind.
"Okay. So what are you thinking, Jen?"
She clamped her mouth tight and inhaled sharply. "Ah... I’m trying to imagine how hot it must get up here." Laughing to cover her embarrassment, she glanced at him. "Oops. I mean from the heat being forced to the ceiling and all."
Mitch didn’t appear to notice her flub and let it slide. Maybe he was thinking what a nutcase she was. She felt like an idiot. She simply had little experience at being alone with an uninhibited male.
"If you look closely, you can see there are doors to the space under the eaves. "That’s where I keep my clothes."
She looked at the hinged closures, but her mind flashed to his appearance. She squirmed with the lure of the dark mat showing through the opening of his shirt. Imagining his naked expanse pressed against her own bare skin brought erotic images that were almost more than she could bear. She had to do something about her concentration on sex--and she would.
"Come lie down here."
"No, thanks. Sorry. That’s a little too fast for me, Mitch."
He flattened his hand to his chest, looking wounded. "I’m not trying to seduce you. I want to show you something."
"That’s what worries me."
"God, woman, you’re skittish. The skylight rolls back. I want you to see it open."
Her naïveté was showing. If that’s all he wanted, he must think her a simpleton. But could she trust him? Could she even trust herself not to get wrapped up in his sexuality? Jen coughed to clear the sudden dryness in her throat. "Are the steaks okay?"
"I have them on low. They’re safe. How do you like it up here?"
"It’s a nice sleeping area. I don’t like heights, though, so I’m going back down." She turned and made fast tracks away from an atmosphere smoldering with possibilities.
She glanced back in time to see Mitch tossing his hands in the air. But he followed. Jen hurried downstairs and opened the front door. Her fingernails dug into her palms. She needed the fresh air, needed the sense of freedom that lay within reach at her cabin. She stepped out to the veranda.
Mitch caught the door before it slammed. "How do you want your steak?"
"Medium, please," she answered, noting the laughter was gone from his voice.
When her host returned to the kitchen for the salt shaker, the idiocy of her assumptions warred with her sense of fairness. Knowing she had overreacted didn’t help much, either. Her quick retreat was immature and not worthy of her. She could hear Mitch banging items from the fridge onto the table. He probably thinks I’m a lesbian... or working on my old maid degree.
She swallowed quickly and crossed the threshold to join him. "I’ll set out the salad," she said, through air heavy with tension. "I see you have French bread, would you like me to slice it?"
"Go ahead. You seem to enjoy slicing things."
Ouch! His sarcasm broadcasted his irritation. Was he irritated because he hadn’t been successful at seducing her straight away, or was he honestly disgruntled at her penchant to think the worst of him? Thinking back, misreading him had been her tendency from the first time she had laid eyes on his muscle-bound exterior. How should she handle this problem--take off for home in a blister of hurt feelings or grit her teeth and own up to her overwhelming insecurities?
Without further words, Mitch stormed out, hopefully to check the meat.
"Mitch?"
He didn’t answer. The drift of hickory in the air should have perked up her appetite. But it didn’t. Not now after she’d irritated him. She knew she had to focus on getting the information she needed. It would be impossible to find out anything helpful if he stayed annoyed with her. Somehow it had to be his idea to come up with an offer to help her. She couldn’t be beholden to a shady male whose activities were most likely below the law. She could never allow herself to be like those she strove to protect.
Jen grabbed two cans of beer from the table and went outside. When she handed him one, he flipped the cap, raised the can in a scornful salute and swigged in a mouthful. She followed suit. She hated beer and seldom drank it, but now she appreciated the slow burn down her throat.
"In my line of work I deal with families, victims of
domineering guys who use their strength in brutal ways. It’s colored my trust in men." She paused, weighing her words carefully. "You personify those types, Mitch. The way you treated me last night exemplifies it."
"If you’re frightened of me, go back to your cabin. I don’t need a scared woman for company. It’s your choice."
"You’re right. Who I spend my time with is my choice, at least tonight it appears to be." She noticed his jaw tightened. Jen placed her beer on the table and looked around her. She’d forgotten about Spooky; he was sitting on the doorstep listening to the harsh tones between the two humans. "Come on, Spooks." The dog flattened. "I said, come on, we’re going home."
Spooky didn’t budge and instead cast a forlorn look. It didn’t work this time. Jen picked him up and strutted across the lawn, escaping to her refuge. Her eyes misted over. She’d turned away the only one who could help.
Jen tramped into her cabin and locked the door behind her. She headed for the bed and kicked off her shoes. Stretching out, she fumed at life in general, the neighborhood biker in particular. Her head swirled with indecision. The incessant hammering at her temples prevented any chance for rest. Annoyance at her lack of faith in herself, as well as others, told her how insecure her life had become.
Jen stayed locked in her thoughts of woe until every muscle in her body rebelled from the tension. Spooky’s wet nose, nuzzling against her bare leg, produced more irritation rather than comfort. Exasperated, she bolted out of bed and went straight to her computer. Scanning the virtual rooms, she settled her identification code in the chat room she preferred. Those on the list of occupants were strangers, but judging by the room’s conversation, the others were friends. Their bantering back and forth in the dialogue box made her feel the deep loneliness of her life. She was always on the outside, never part of any real connection as far back as she could remember. She’d made a point not to dig too far back into her memory. Hurtful things resided there.
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