“Don’t think for a second I’m not happy it has,” Mitch said, pulling her back up so he could reach her mouth. He kissed her tenderly. “I just need you to know, though, that I still have to do what I feel is right.”
“Savannah?”
“Yeah.” He watched her shield her eyes by lowering her lashes, understood the vulnerability and doubt that shadowed her face. “You’re wrong, you know.”
“Am I?”
Mitch knew of only one way to prove to Jenny that he wanted her and no one else. He lowered her to the seat cushion and kept her there with the weight of his body. “Savannah was a mistake. I never think of her.”
“Don’t say—”
“Correction. I don’t think of her except to want to shake her until her capped teeth fall out for doing what she’s done.” He took in Jenny’s lovely but bewildered face, the way her breasts rose and fell from having been caught off guard. “You’re the one I think about, Jen. I can tell you things about you, about when you were a kid, that I’ll bet you would never guess I remember.”
“Like what?”
“That your first grown-up bathing suit was an orange two-piece that made me want to rip off the drapes I was hiding behind and run out to cover you.”
Her mouth fell open. “You’re kidding!”
“Well, actually, what I really wanted to do would have put me in jail.”
“I wish I’d known,” she said, reaching up to stroke his chest. “What else?”
“Never mind. I can see I’m going to have to dole out the information sparingly, or else you’re going to get a swollen head.”
“Little ol’ me?” Her eyes twinkling, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him downward. “I. suppose I could always extract the information in my own way.”
“And what way is that?” Mitch murmured, already angling his head to cover her mouth with his.
She didn’t answer—but then, she didn’t have to, because she was showing him,
How quickly the heart could catch fire. As Mitch felt her arch toward him, he drove his hands into her hair and felt a bit more of his self-control slip. Sweet, tempting Jenny had indeed the talent to bring him to his knees if she wanted. But he knew punishment and control weren’t on her agenda. No, all she wanted was wonderful, delirious loving. With him.
She made his head spin, and his body ache. Behind his closed eyes, he saw himself reaching for the straps of her dress, the zipper in the back. He wanted to ease it down, to lower the dress so he could adore more of her. All of her. Prompted by the image, he tore his mouth free to race it across her cheek and down her throat. Her shoulders were elegant, her collarbone delicate. But it was the gentle swell of flesh over the bodice of her dress that hired him, and he trailed his mouth over one mound and then the other.
He wanted to have her completely beneath him, to bury his aching body in the heaven that hers offered. Wanted it so much that he made her gasp from the speed with which he sat up and pulled her with him.
“What’s wrong?” she managed, grasping his arms to regain her balance.
“You’re right. You can turn me into mush. Particularly tonight. So I’m sending you home.”
Jenny could barely keep up as he pulled her to the kitchen, snatched her bag, and led her toward the back door. “Mitch! Don’t I get a say in this?”
“No.” Before he opened the door, he kissed her. Hard. “Not this time. But don’t worry, I’m going to let you try again—soon.”
“Maybe I should get that in writing.”
With her hair in sexy disarray and her skin glowing, she played pure havoc with his good intentions. One more kiss, Mitch decided, hauling her close. He locked his mouth to hers and let desire rule.
As expected, it flared fast and hot. Far before he sated even the first layer of his need for her, he forced himself to put her at arm’s length.
“You don’t need anything in writing,” he rasped.
Touching his finger to her kiss-swollen lips, he whispered good-night to her and opened the door.
“See you in the morning.”
“Count on it.”
It hurt like hell to let her go, but he was also proud of himself. There had been a time...
No, the old days were over. He was building toward a future. One step at a time, the way Jenny had suggested. Today had been a good start...not perfect... a bit bumpy here and there, but a start. Tomorrow would be better.
“If you live through the night,” he told himself.
Sucking in a deep breath and exhaling the ache Jenny had triggered in him, Mitch stripped off his shirt and headed upstairs. He wanted another shower, a cooler one, and then he planned to check out the envelope J. D. Rogers had given him.
The thing was thick for a statement. Hopefully it contained a full report of all the people the detective had spoken to, as well as all the places he’d searched. Maybe Rogers had been scared away, but the detective didn’t have as much to lose as Mitch felt he did.
On his way to his room, Mitch detoured to check on the baby. Jenny had complained that the room remained rather barren for her tastes, but she’d succeeded in getting him to move his office down the hall and convert this into a nursery. The crib was the one she had offered, the rocking chair came from her, too. It had been her mother’s. She’d said that she heard it would come in handy when the baby began teething and was up and cranky at all hours of the night. At the time he hadn’t wanted to let himself believe he would be allowed to be there for his child at those times. Now he was beginning to think there was a possibility it might come true.
Savannah wanted no part of her child. As incredible as the idea seemed to Mitch, she couldn’t have given him more welcome news.
“But I want you,” he whispered to Mary as he bent over her.
Sweet Lord, she was precious. Still dressed in the soft, pink cotton gown and socks from earlier, she lay in the semidarkness with her arms raised over her head and her tiny hands fisted. Mitch grinned, thinking she looked like a miniature Rocky lying in that position.
He knew he should leave her to sleep in peace, but he had the strongest craving to hold her for a few moments. Slinging his shirt over the foot of the crib, he slowly lifted her and settled her in the nest he made with his left arm. This had been quite traumatic the first few times, but it was getting easier with practice; however, her size continued to awe him.
Easing down onto the rocker, he watched her stretch, lift one socked foot and rest it against his chest. Feeling yet another lump growing in his throat, he took hold of that tiny foot and bent to kiss it before setting it on his forearm, in a way he knew would be more comfortable to her.
Slowly he began rocking. He was new at this, too. Mary didn’t seem to mind, though. It appeared that babies had a capacity for great patience with beginners. He hoped so because he was going to need a great deal from her.
Emotion built in him. Maybe it was leftover adrenaline. Maybe it was the new ground he’d covered with Jenny and the brightening promise the future held. Whatever the reason, he felt an unexpected wetness around his eyes, so he closed them, and rocked, building another memory he knew he would cherish for the rest of his life.
Chapter Eight
“I think I’m beginning to see less and less of Savannah in Mary every day,” Jenny said to her grandmother as she settled Mary in the portable carrier on the kitchen table. She planned to keep the baby near while she typed up a new batch of invoices on her notebook computer.
Having just hung up the phone, her grandmother carried a notepad and cup of tea to join them. “That’s because your rose-colored glasses are turning opaque.” She sighed as she settled her plump body onto the chair across from Jenny’s.
“I don’t think so. Mitch has had her for over two weeks now. Babies change quite a bit in the first few months.”
Her grandmother adjusted her bifocals and studied her pad. “Hmm...all the hat-and-bootie sets are gone at the boutique, and Agnes told me there’s been
a run on those white baby blankets with the satin trim, too. I wonder why Faith didn’t call me to tell me that herself.”
“Gee, could it be because you’ve been gabbing with Agnes for the better part of an hour?” Jenny drawled. Under normal circumstances she didn’t care how long her grandmother talked, but this wasn’t just about the phone. It bothered her that her grandmother pretended she hadn’t noticed any change in the baby. “Didn’t you hear a beep during all that time?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that was an incoming call! I’ve told you how to operate the phone to pick it up.” Jenny was glad she’d insisted on getting a second line for her business.
“So I forgot. I am getting on in years, you know.”
Jenny turned to the baby. “Did you hear that? This is what’s called evasive behavior. You’ll notice it when you want an extra chocolate-chip cookie before dinner and she doesn’t want to be the bad guy and say, ‘No, you’ll ruin your appetite.’ But in the blink of an eye she can tell you exactly what knit items she’s sold this week and what’s still out on consignment—down to the color!”
“Of course I remember colors,” her grandmother declared with a sniff. “Color is crucial in my business. Take for instance those blankets I was telling you about. They’re being grabbed up by people needing christening gifts.” She leaned closer to Jenny. “And if you ask me, if this baby epidemic continues, the churches are going to have to have twenty-four-hour service. That reminds me, do you know what Agnes told me? She saw Edwin Fishburn at the sperm bank yesterday! Little Eddie who used to chase you up and down the street on that bike with the training wheels trying to get you to kiss him. Agnes said she didn’t know what he could possibly want in there now that his fiancée broke off their engagement.”
“Agnes—Agnes—Agnes! Does that bloodhound post herself at the front door of the place?” Jenny shook her head, deciding she had enough on her plate without getting involved with what everyone else in town was up to. All she wanted was for her grandmother to stick to one subject, too! “Come on, Gran, tell me the truth. Don’t you think Mary looks just like her daddy?”
“All babies are adorable. Instead of focusing on that, what you should be concerning yourself with is, does she have her mother’s morals and Friendly Skies’s silver tongue? Now there’s a genetical conversation piece.”
Although she had once chuckled at her grandmother’s old nickname for Mitch—a result of her sometimes being frustrated with him herself—Jenny no longer felt it appropriate. “Can’t you call him by his given name?”
“Yes, and I can bend down and touch my toes, too, but what fun is that?”
“The point is that he’s changing.”
To her credit, her grandmother did grimace. “I guess. Or so it would seem. On the other hand, a few weeks isn’t a guarantee. Look at your Valerie.”
The mention of her friend had Jenny gazing at the laptop’s screen but seeing Valerie as she’d looked at the supermarket on Tuesday. “I don’t know what to do where Val is concerned. She won’t open up. She makes excuses that she’s been busy, that she’s late for an appointment. She doesn’t return my calls. Gran, I’m afraid she and Lucas may be headed for divorce court.”
“They’re in the right town for it. Babies and divorce seem to be the only two things going on in New Hope these days.”
“At least you’re profiting from one of those.”
“I can knit only so many booties. It would be nice to try something else for a change, broaden my horizons.”
“Have patience. It won’t be long before those bootie wearers need toddler sweaters, young miss vests and school sweaters.”
That won her a reluctant chuckle from her grandmother, who replied, “You’re a hopeless romantic.”
“I try.”
“What if you get your heart broken?”
Jenny smiled wryly, well acquainted with that tactic. “When I first started making jams and things during summer vacations and I asked you if you thought I could sell them, you worried that I’d get my feelings hurt if no one bought them. But they did. When I started Jams By Jenny between community college business classes, you worried that I’d either get ill from doing too much or lose all the insurance money from Mom and Dad. I didn’t do that, either. Haven’t I proved to be made of tougher stuff—like you?”
“Sure, sure. But there’s a difference between a little fatigue and a broken heart.” When Jenny began to protest, her grandmother raised her hand. “All right. I’ll try to keep a positive attitude. What do you want me to do, knit him a sweater?”
“As a matter of fact that might be a nice idea for a Christmas present. Something in navy or a hunter green would flatter his blond coloring.”
“I’ll think about it.”
But there was a small smile playing around her grandmother’s mouth, which made Jenny reach over and squeeze her hand. “You’re a sweetheart.”
Jenny had just gone back to working on the invoices when she heard a familiar sound of footsteps. Seconds later Mitch poked his head inside the glass storm door.
“Anybody home?”
As usual, at the sight of him, Jenny’s heart sprouted wings and did some fancy aerial maneuvers. He always looked good to her, but she became all weak and jittery when she saw him in his uniform.
“Daddy’s home!” she sang to Mary. The baby’s eyes widened in recognition and she lifted her fisted hands, her signal that she was ready to be held.
“How was the air up there?” her grandmother asked in lieu of a greeting as Jenny lifted the baby.
“A bit bumpy. That front we’re supposed to get sometime tomorrow is really creating some turbulence farther west. How was the knitting today?” he added with a twinkle in his amber eyes.
Her grandmother shot him a sidelong look. “So you were right about lowering the chair. Go play with your baby.”
Jenny winked at Mitch. Yesterday her grandmother had complained that the new chair for her knitting machine was a waste of money because it made her back ache. She hadn’t let Jenny even look at the thing to see if she could help. But once Mitch arrived, he’d dismissed her blustering and had it adjusted to suit her height within moments.
“She’s in rare form today.”
“Uh-oh. And here I was going to ask her for a favor. Hello, sunshine,” he added, accepting the baby from Jenny.
The transfer brought them in intimate contact and Jenny’s gaze inevitably locked with Mitch’s. Memory and desire flashed instantly between them and created quite a little scene behind her grandmother’s back. In fact, when Mitch bent his head to tenderly kiss the baby, Jenny could have sworn she felt the caress herself!
“What favor?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.
“I should have asked you yesterday, or even the day before, but...you know I’m off now until Monday.”
Jenny nodded, telling him with her eyes that she had been waiting for Friday all week. Was he going to suggest they do something with the baby tomorrow or Sunday?
“Well, even though it’s short notice, I thought Fiona might baby-sit for Mary this evening while you and I went to Dallas for a night on the town.”
An evening out with just the two of them? Yes, that’s what his look spoke of. The days, or rather evenings, since the tournament had been pure bliss, watching him with Mary, the long talks they’d shared after they put the baby to bed, and the longer kisses. But this idea of his spoke of pure romance.
“Oh, Mitch, that sounds so...wonderful. But I’m not sure Gran doesn’t have other plans.”
Her grandmother took off her glasses and set them on the pad. “What plans?”
“The way you were talking with Agnes, I thought maybe you two had more to discuss and would be seeing each other later on. You often get together with her, Ethel and Minny on weekend nights,” Jenny said, shrugging.
Her grandmother rose and wagged a finger under her nose. “That doesn’t mean it’s become the law. What are you, my social director?” She t
urned to Mitch. “If you needed me...”
He took hold of her hands. “Fiona, you don’t know how I need you. I know you expend a good deal of time and energy on behalf of my daughter and I never thank you enough. But it’s true.”
Fiona flicked a glance at Jenny. “Didn’t I tell you? Sterling silver. So what are you going to wear?”
“She’s one of a kind,” Jenny said once Mitch had the sports car backed out of his driveway. “Just when I think I have all her moves down pat, she does this to confuse me.”
Mitch grinned. “Good. Join the club, since that’s how I usually feel about you.”
“I’m not that...changeable. Am I?”
He shot her a quick but speaking glance. “What you are is breathtaking.”
What a transformation she’d made from the demure homemaker outfit she’d been wearing when he’d arrived, to the chic black number she had on now. If she tended to wear things that showed her legs to such advantage and her trim figure, he would definitely have given up trying to behave himself a long time ago.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I didn’t think you could look more handsome than in your uniform, but... wow.”
Delighted by her slightly embarrassed demeanor, he reached for her hand to give it a quick squeeze before he had to shift gears. “That’s one of the things I admire as much as I enjoy about you.”
“What?”
“Your honesty. You say what you mean. Believe me, it’s refreshing.”
Jenny looked skeptical. “Come on. You don’t get your share of compliments?”
He got looks, most of them the come-hither variety. A different thing entirely. “Let’s just say that what you say feels real.”
She chuckled and relaxed more in her seat. “Well done. If you ever decide to give up flying, I do believe you could have a fine career in the diplomatic service.” She indicated his direction. “Where’s this motorized magic carpet headed?”
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