Sultry

by Mary Lynn Baxter

  He had to stop thinking about her in such a personal way. More than that, he had to get her out of his place now, before he did something he would regret for a long time to come.

  He didn’t want to lose his job. He liked working here. Even though he figured Cooper Newman could be a real bastard if the occasion called for it, so far, he’d had no trouble getting along with the doctor. He had hoped to remain here as long as he wanted. When he got bored, he would move on. That was the way he liked it—no ties that bound, no one to worry about but himself.

  Until he’d seen Lindsay, that is.

  He wanted her. No use denying that any longer. But he wanted a lot of things he couldn’t have. Lindsay was just another in a long list.

  Home.

  That was where she belonged, and that was where she would go. Two seconds later, Mitch strode back into the living room, only to pull up short. He had been wrong. She wasn’t asleep. She was standing by the window with her back to him, the glow from the lamp washing over her.

  Mitch swallowed hard and stood transfixed, the desire to run his hands over those curves so strong that it made him ache low in his stomach.

  Cursing silently, he took a step forward. When he did, she swung around, and their eyes met.

  Tears. They were the first thing to register on his fogged mind. Some were still pooled in her eyes, while others were dried on her face. Without warning, he was mesmerized by her haunting vulnerability, and knew instinctively that underneath her outgoing facade was a deeply troubled and lonely young woman—the most dangerous kind, he reminded himself.

  “I wish you wouldn’t cry,” he said in an anguished voice.

  Her chin quivered. “I wish I wouldn’t, either.”

  “You can’t live in the past.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.”

  “We all have our demons, Lindsay,” he said gently. “Some worse than others. Yours happen to have been one of those worst-case scenarios.”

  She drew a trembling breath. “Pieces of me are missing,” she said in a strained whisper, tears shimmering in her eyes. “Do you think I’ll ever find them?”

  He forced himself to keep his distance, but it was tearing chunks out of him. “Of course you will. You’re young and strong.”

  “Do you feel sorry for me?”

  His throat tightened, and it took a full minute before he could speak again. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because I’ve been institutionalized,” she said, her voice almost lost under the pain. “There’s a stigma—”

  “Screw the stigma and those who think it.” A scowl twisted his features.

  Lindsay smiled through her tears. “That’ll work.”

  “Look—”

  Lindsay lifted her hand and stopped him. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay, really. I had too much to drink, and when I do, I talk too much.”

  “Maybe you needed to talk. Did you ever think about that?”

  Another fleeting smile touched her lips at the same time that he crossed the room, stopping within touching distance of her. He didn’t touch her, though. He didn’t dare. Yet his wanting her was like a magnet, drawing him toward her, in spite of his efforts to the contrary.

  It was all he could do not to grab her, haul her into his arms and kiss her until she begged him to stop. Only he wouldn’t have stopped. Tasting her would have sent him over the edge.

  “Uh, thanks for listening,” she whispered, then licked the tears off her upper lip with a tiny flick of her tongue.

  He groaned inwardly, feeling the constraints of his zipper. “I’m not usually that good a listener,” he said in a voice he didn’t recognize as his own.

  “You’re wrong. You’re a great listener.”

  “You should go, you know,” he said roughly, that edge getting closer.

  “I know.”

  Silence.

  Mitch swallowed again and watched as more tears gathered in her eyes. Clenching his fists to his sides, he said, “Hey, stop it. I can’t let you go home like this.”

  “I’m a mess, aren’t I?”

  “What you are is beautiful,” he murmured thickly.

  Her eyes widened on him, and she swayed forward, as if her lovely legs were no longer capable of sustaining her.

  “Whoa,” Mitch said, reaching out to steady her.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice sounded strangled, as though she had something caught in her throat.

  “Stop saying you’re sorry.”

  “I’m sorry I keep being sorry.”

  A smile suddenly relaxed his stiff mouth. “You don’t have a damn thing to be sorry about.”

  She fooled with her lower lip again and just looked up at him.

  He sucked in a breath, then waited a beat, fighting for control. That was when he realized he still had his hands on her. He dropped them suddenly and stepped back.

  “Mitch.”

  It wasn’t the fact that she spoke his name that sent a renewed shot of heat to his groin, but rather the way she said it—husky and desperate.

  And she was still looking at him out of those big, sad eyes.

  “Lindsay, you have to go.” He heard the desperation in his own voice but was powerless to do anything about it.

  “Hold me, please.”

  He closed his eyes against the onslaught of raw desire that almost buckled his knees.

  That was when she dove into his arms.

  “Lindsay!” His words came out a muted cry, even as his arms folded around her, drawing her close to his chest. He didn’t know whose heart was beating the loudest or the fastest, but he didn’t give a damn.

  He was touching her, holding her, though he knew it couldn’t last. This was not good. He had to let her go before he couldn’t.

  “Lindsay,” he breathed into her hair. “We can’t—”

  She lifted her head then and stopped his words with her soft, moist lips. For a moment he froze, certain his chest wasn’t large enough to hold both her and his pent-up breath.

  But when she moaned and sank her lips deeper into his, he no longer cared. He stopped thinking about anything other than satisfying his own craving for her.

  Answering her moan, he greedily parted her teeth so that he had access to her tongue, unwilling to deprive himself of one morsel of her sweet nectar. It was only after his hand seemed to move under her shirt of its own volition and surround a breast that the alarm bell banged him upside the head.

  Shaken to the core by his actions and her response, Mitch jerked his mouth off hers and stepped back.

  “No, Mitch.” Her cry came out a harsh whisper.

  “Yes, Lindsay,” he responded in agony, though he didn’t leave her completely. His hands remained around her forearms to make sure that she was steady and functioning on her own.

  When he felt that she was, he dropped his arms, stepped out of touching distance and watched as she circled her arms across her chest.

  “Why, Mitch?”

  He shoved all five fingers of one hand through his hair. “Because I was about to forget who you are.”

  “The boss’s daughter, right?” she responded with sharp bitterness. “And I’m not worth losing your job over?”

  “You got it.” His tone was purposely cruel and harsh.

  She lifted her chin, though she couldn’t disguise the pain in her eyes. “You’ve made your point. I won’t bother you again.”

  “Will you be all right getting home?”

  “Goodbye, Mitch.”

  She slammed the door behind her so hard it sounded like a gunshot. He flinched, sick inside about everything.

  “What’s going on, friend?”

  Lindsay pursed her mouth as she stared at Mary Jane across the table. They had met for lunch at their favorite hangout and had just finished their food, top-ping it off with a frozen cappuccino, which satisfied their sweet tooth as well as the need for a caffeine boost.

  “What makes you think anything’s going on?” Lindsay responded with forced
lightness.

  “Don’t pull that crap on me. I know you like the back of my hand. Besides, you look like you’ve been ridden hard and put up wet.”

  “Thanks, M.J.,” Lindsay snapped, then stuck out her tongue.

  They both laughed, which relieved some of the tension inside Lindsay. She almost relaxed, though not quite. Mary Jane was right; she was a mess both inside and out.

  No wonder, considering how she had behaved.

  But the instant she’d seen him on the porch, seen his irregular features, his damp salt-and-pepper hair, his gorgeous physique, then smelled his clean, earthy scent, she had ceased to be responsible.

  And later, when his lips had devoured hers at the same time that he slipped a hand under her shirt and fingered her nipple until it swelled in his palm, she’d thought she might not survive the onslaught of emotion that charged through her, making her feel weak and wet in just the right places.

  “Stop stalling,” Mary Jane said, breaking the silence. “Go ahead and spill your guts. You’ll feel much better afterwards. Guaranteed.”

  Lindsay rolled her eyes. “You have such an unladylike way of putting things.”

  “No point in pussyfooting around.”

  Lindsay sighed, pushing her cup away. The sweetness was adding to the upheaval in her stomach. “I met a man.”

  Mary Jane’s mouth dropped open. “For real?”

  “For real.”

  “Well, that’s great. Why are you so down in the mouth about it?”

  “Because of who he is.”

  Mary Jane flapped a hand. “Hell, as long as it’s not tight-ass Peter, it doesn’t matter.”

  Lindsay laughed, but with zero humor. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

  “Ah, now I am intrigued.”

  Lindsay didn’t know quite how to begin, so she just jumped in with both feet. “It’s Mitch Rawlins, our estate manager.”

  This time Mary Jane’s mouth not only dropped open, but stayed that way.

  “Close your mouth,” Lindsay demanded through clenched teeth.

  “Are you talking about the gardener, for chrissake?”

  Lindsay heaved a sigh. “Funny you should ask that. I’m guilty of asking Tim the same thing.”

  “Are we right?”

  “No. He’s much more than that.”

  Mary Jane grimaced. “I don’t get it. Surely you’re putting me on.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  Mary Jane gave her an incredulous look. “Have you seen him alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Lordy, I can just see Cooper now.”

  Lindsay felt color seep into her face. “I’d rather he didn’t know, if you don’t mind.”

  “Oh, I can’t imagine why.” Mary Jane’s sarcasm was up front. “Nothing’s happened, right? I mean—”

  “He…kissed me. Or rather, I kissed him.”

  “Have you lost your ever-loving mind?”

  “I think I must have.”

  Mary Jane shook her head. “When you could have any man you want, what could you possibly see in someone like him?”

  “Have you ever seen him?”

  “Not that I recall.”

  “Oh, you’d recall,” Lindsay said with punch.

  “That nice, huh?”

  “Most definitely.”

  “So tell me, why is it you’ll go after a man who’s no good for you with such aggressiveness, but you won’t stand up to your daddy?”

  “It’s simple. Mitch is dispensable, and Daddy isn’t.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “And I have bucked Daddy. I’m still going forward with my project.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Lindsay let that slide, unwilling to argue about her relationship with Cooper. Besides, her daddy was not who was on her mind at the moment.

  “So what’s so special about this Mitch Rawlins?”

  Lindsay’s eyes sparked. “For one thing, he makes me feel alive again, something I haven’t felt since Mother…died.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “And there’s something about him that intrigues me—” Lindsay broke off suddenly, remembering the way his eyes had spoken to her with a combination of irritation, sympathy and passion.

  “Care to share what you’re thinking?” Mary Jane asked with another dose of sarcasm.

  “Look, you can stop worrying. Nothing’s going to happen. I have no intention of seeing him again.”

  “You’re lying through your teeth, Lindsay Newman.”

  Lindsay flushed. “I am not.”

  “Well, you’d better mean that. As the old saying goes, you play with fire, you’re going to get burned.”

  Lindsay couldn’t have agreed more. Only problem was, she not only wanted to play, she wanted to get burned.

  Thirteen

  “I thought you told me your finances were going to improve.”

  Tim drove an unsteady hand through his hair, then rubbed his out-of-shape mustache, something he always did when he was nervous. And he was nervous. His guts were in such a knot, he doubted they would ever straighten out.

  “They are going to improve,” Tim stressed to his accountant, Larry Fuller, who was staring back at him over the rims of the thin, wireless glasses that matched his thin, wireless face.

  A smile almost broke through Tim’s tension at that comparison; he’d never paid much attention to his accountant’s appearance before. But no smile was forthcoming; smiles of late were all dried up.

  “When?” Larry demanded, mincing no words.

  Tim lurched out of the chair, then stood, his breath coming in short spurts. “Soon.”

  “Well, it had better be, or you just might be looking at bankruptcy.”

  What little color Tim had left in his face disappeared. He stared at Larry with his mouth hanging open.

  “You needn’t look at me like that,” Larry snapped. “I’m not the bugbear here. It’s you, with your crazy notion that you can outsmart the stock market.”

  Bankruptcy!

  Tim’s stomach was roiling. God, if that were to happen, Cooper would kill him—even if Eve didn’t. But he wouldn’t panic. Help was on the way. He had to hold on to that thought and pray that his plan wouldn’t fall through.

  However, that good thought was short-lived. He’d gotten himself in such a deep hole financially that he was going to need a long-handled shovel to dig himself out.

  Larry broke the silence. “You act like you’re shocked.”

  Tim fell back down in the chair, feeling as if he’d been sucker punched. “It doesn’t matter how I feel. Bankruptcy is not an option.”

  “Well, I’m doing all I can on this end. But there are just so many miracles I can perform without getting my ass in the proverbial sling with Uncle Sam.”

  “I understand.”

  Larry leaned forward in his chair. “Do you, Tim? Do you really understand that the only thing between you and bankruptcy court is a mighty thin thread?”

  Tim’s stomach tightened. “You just do what it takes to juggle the books a while longer.”

  “Tim—”

  “Don’t let me down, Larry,” Tim pleaded. “You’ve stuck with me this far. Hang on.”

  Larry’s pale eyes narrowed. “All right, good buddy. I’ll continue to do what I can. But no fooling, something has to give—and soon, too.”

  “Thanks. I owe you.”

  Larry smirked. “Owe me? That’s an understatement. If I pull this off, your ass belongs to me.”

  Tim stood and reached a hand out. “You’re too goddamn honest to own anyone’s ass.”

  Larry’s smirk improved. “Go on, get out of here. I’ve got paying clients to deal with.”

  Tim had gotten out, and now, two hours later, he was waiting for a man he’d never met—a man he’d talked to only on the phone. Nonetheless, he was the most important man in Tim’s life at the moment.

  In fact, he could very well turn out to be his savior.
>
  Tim stared at his watch, then looked around the gourmet coffee shop that was a beehive of activity. Perfect. No one would notice them. Even if they did, it wouldn’t matter.

  His contact had insisted they meet away from Garnet for obvious reasons. Tim had been all for that. He definitely didn’t want to be seen with the man, though nothing illegal was going on—or so he’d been told.

  Still, in his high-profile business, he couldn’t afford to take unnecessary chances.

  Tim squirmed in his seat as he took another sip of his tepid coffee, while keeping his eyes glued on the door. A fine sheen of sweat tickled his mustache. Mr. Clayton Freeman, whoever the hell he was, was late.

  If only he could have gone to his dad or sister and borrowed a truckload of money, he wouldn’t be here, sweating like a stuck pig. They both had the cash, but they weren’t about to share it with him.

  Then there was Eve. If he wasn’t careful, she would leave him over this, which would raise a big stink. Cooper wouldn’t like that, either. The social gossip columnists would have a field day, splattering the details of a nasty divorce all over the papers.

  That thought almost made him choke on his drink. It was while he was wiping his mouth that his contact walked in. He had described himself as tall and gangly, with dirty blond hair and a space between his front teeth.

  Tim couldn’t vouch for the space, but the other part fit him to a tee. Once pleasantries had been exchanged and Freeman was seated in front of him, Tim noticed the space. Yep, this was the right guy.

  “So are you still committed to this venture?” Freeman asked in an low, easygoing voice.

  “If it’s something I can live with.”

  “Oh, you can live with it, all right.”

  Tim placed his elbows on the table and leaned closer. “You can guarantee me the goods?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “So how’s all this going to work?” Tim’s eyes were cuttingly sharp. “I need to make as much money as I can as quickly as I can.”

  Freeman tongued the gap between his teeth.

  Tim glanced away. What a nasty habit. Hopefully this was the last time he would have to come in contact with this guy.

  “Making money is what this is all about.”

  “So what do I have to do?” Tim asked.

  “Give me a list of all your pharmacies and their locations.”