by Hill, Sierra
Mitch woke to the sound of a soft whimper coming from the warm body that lay next to him on his King size bed. He rolled over and his hand instinctively went to her belly, prompting an immediate response of a big wet kiss planted straight across his nose.
His voice was higher than normal. “Hey there. How’s my girl, today?” His question elicited yet another wet kiss and a whimper. The three-year-old German shepherd yawned broadly and scooted closer to Mitch, thumping her tail ferociously against the mattress. “Good morning, my sweets…let’s go get some breakfast, shall we?”
The dog excitedly jumped off the bed and ran to the hallway, looking back at him with her big brown eyes. Barking once, she ran down the stairs and sat at the bottom, waiting anxiously for Mitch to come after her. Grabbing the shirt he’d carefully laid across a chair last night, he slipped it over his head and laughed at the sight of her, panting and whining at the bottom of the stairs. “Just a minute, Karma. It takes me a bit longer than usual these days.”
Reaching for his single crutch, he saw her nose go down to her front paws, heaving a big sigh. “I know, girl. Life’s rough – for both of us.”
Once downstairs and their morning routine accomplished, Mitch pulled out his iPhone to check his messages. Five-thirty a.m. and he had already received seven emails from vendors and clients and two texts from Jackson. He shook his head, wondering if the man ever slept. Jackson was the only person he knew that could live on only four hours of sleep a night. All-nighters in college were nothing for Jax, who could go until four a.m. and still ace a test in his eight a.m. class the following morning. Just the thought of an all-nighter made him groan, feeling older than his thirty years.
Opening up his calendar, his phone chimed with the little reminder notification of his eight o’clock conference call with Stanley Jensen, whom he’d be meeting with the following Monday. He was hoping for some good news on his upcoming project in Miami.
Scrolling down the day’s events, he came to his next appointment – his nine a.m. session with Rylie. He rubbed a hand over his day-old stubble and contemplated her mood today, given their most recent exchange.
Mitch couldn’t quite place the feeling that overtook him last night or why he felt compelled to kiss her so impulsively. He certainly hadn’t planned it, but when he saw her bent over his car seat, with her perfect ass lifted high in the air, his thoughts were so primal that it was only on instinct that he had to touch her. And knowing what he now knew of Rylie’s response, his hunger was far from satiated. His dick twitched at the memory.
Looking back at his calendar, he considered rearranging his day to get some additional work done at home before heading into the office at noon. The rest of his day was to be spent in meetings and reviewing the plans and proposals required to ensure the Kendall project would remain on track.
There was nothing that he wouldn’t do to see this building project come to fruition. He was mentally prepared to complete the pinnacle of his career in record time. He all but assured Jax that his physical condition would not interfere with his progress, but there was a small, nagging question at the back of his head that made him wonder if it would slow him down. He quickly pushed that fleeting thought out of his mind and got ready for his morning.
****
Rylie started off the day like most days with a four-mile run along the Charles River. Cambridge was a beehive of collegiate and professionals and she loved the atmosphere of the university town. Being a bit more sleep deprived than usual from her sleepless night, she stopped by The Cambridge Cup, just on the outskirts of Harvard Square, to grab a large Americano on her way back to her apartment. Hoping both the run and the caffeine kick would do the trick, she headed into the shower to get ready.
Forty-five minutes later, Rylie was heading west on the Massachusetts Turnpike, toward the suburb of Newton. The twenty-minute drive was devoid of any major traffic at this time of day, as most of the commuters were heading east into the city. It had been a while since Rylie had ventured out of the city and into the suburbs. Sasha’s family lived out near Waltham, but she hadn’t been to visit them since the previous holiday season, when Sasha dragged her to one of their lavish Christmas parties. She loved Sasha and her zealot approach to finding her a match, but her attempts to set her up with men from her parent’s country club were not amusing.
Turning off the exit for Newton/Watertown, she turned south on Chestnut Street, heading into neighborhoods heavily lined with hundred-year-old maples and classic brick Tudors and Colonials that had been built in the eighteen-nineties. Coming to the intersection of Chestnut and Commonwealth, she turned right and followed the road for another eighth of a mile until her navigation system told her to turn right at her final destination.
The entrance of the long wooded drive was enclosed by a large wrought-iron security gate. Rylie pulled out the card Mitch had given her and punched in the five-digit code. Settling back into her driver’s seat, she took a deep breath as she watched gates slowly open, parting before her like the Red Sea. Shifting out of neutral, she slowly accelerated, making her way through the lush grounds.
From both sides, colorful oaks, birches and maples enveloped her, hugging every inch of the curved driveway. The morning sun was sprinkling its rays through the trees, glimmering off the dewy autumn leaves. It could only be described as picturesque. Pulling to a stop, she placed the car in park and got out of the car.
In front of her stood a two-story white Colonial, the front entryway book-ended by white pillar columns. To the left was a stand-alone three-car Carriage garage, Mitch’s bright yellow Tesla sitting idle in front. Stepping out of her car, she placed her hand to shield her eyes from the direct sunlight, as her mouth gaped open at the opulence of the historic home.
Good Lord, this man has money.
Grabbing her bag and purse from the backseat, she closed the car door and headed up the five steps to the front porch.
Reaching the door, her mouth suddenly dried, her throat constricted, and anxiety riddled her body. How would he react to seeing her after what happened the day before? Should she apologize for slapping him and acting like a complete dimwit? Would he try kissing her again? How should she act toward him now? Laugh it off as if nothing happened at all?
This is nuts.
Rylie took a deep inhale and slowly let it out, readjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. Counting to ten, she grabbed the front door knocker and made her presence known. Waiting for Mitch to answer, she turned around to look across the front yard. A fountain stood in the middle of the lawn, a small path carved around it, two benches on either side. The landscaping was absolutely beautiful. She wondered how many landscapers it took to maintain this type of beauty. These types of homes were surely only pictured in Architectural Digest. What in the world did this man do for a living, she thought, just as door opened to produce the man in question.
Rylie stood there, staring into his gorgeous warm eyes, unable to say anything, shifting awkwardly from side to side. Every sexual feeling that she had tried to banish from her mind since the previous night came rushing back the minute he smiled and said hello.
His shoulders, broad and strong, took up the majority of the doorway as he assessed her standing in front of him. “Good morning,” his smile was warm, with a hint of lust. “Welcome to my humble abode. Please come in.” Mitch stepped aside to usher her into the entryway, gently pressing his hand to her lower back. A thrill shot down Rylie’s spine.
Two steps into the grand two-story foyer, she heard what sounded like a thunderous freight train coming toward her, full speed. A panicked squeal escaped Rylie’s lips, just as a seventy-five pound furry creature came hurling at her, taking her not only by surprise, but knocking her off her already unsteady feet. The force of the dog’s greeting sent her bag and purse toppling off her shoulder and down to the black and white checkerboard marble floor. She landed against something hard, as well. Mitch’s chest.
“Karma – off. Now!” Mitch b
ellowed, swinging his body around, just as Rylie landed against his chest. His arms came up around and under her arms, the single crutch falling with a loud crack to the floor.
The dog, reluctantly obedient, planted her butt down to face a bewildered Rylie. Karma let out a loud whine and licked her shoes before laying her head down at Rylie’s feet.
Letting out the breath that she had been harboring since knocking, Rylie began to laugh hysterically – the tension releasing with every breath. She bent at the waist trying to stop her fit of laughter and regain her composure.
“That’s quite a welcoming committee you have. I can only imagine what your security guard would do if I weren’t an invited guest.” Bending down to pick up her bags that had been displaced in the commotion, she readjusted as she straightened, flipping her long, silky hair out of her face.
“Are you okay? Karma isn’t normally quite this…exuberant with her greetings,” Mitch said in an apologetic tone, admonishing his dog’s behavior. Taking a step forward, he gestured to his dog, now sitting obediently and panting at Rylie.
“Rylie, meet Karma. Karma, meet our new friend, Rylie.” The dog raised her paw in greeting. Rylie giggled, reaching out to shake hands with the beautiful dog.
“Now that you’ve both been properly introduced, I’ll put her outside so she’s out of the way. I’ll be right back. Come on in and make yourself at home.”
Rylie watched as Mitch and the dog walked through the foyer and down the hall toward the back. To her surprise, she admired his backside, his ass looking perfect in shorts and the black T-shirt that fit tightly across his shoulders and back. Rylie sighed as she turned her attention to the meticulously appointed surroundings of his home. So very different than her father’s house, or even her little studio apartment. There were no garage sale end tables or Ikea furniture in this place.
Looking in the direction the pair had headed, she could see an entire wall of glass – floor-to-ceiling windows flooded with incoming sunlight, providing views of a stone patio, in-ground pool, screened porch and pool house, as well as the stunning wooded property.
To the left of the grand foyer was a library, complete with beamed ceilings, dramatic bay windows and mahogany paneling. To the right, through white-trimmed, glass paneled doors, was a sitting room with beautiful white millwork wainscoting, an exquisite Persian rug in the middle of the room and a romantic hearth and fireplace. A large cherry wood desk sat in in the middle of the room. She could envision a shirtless Mitch leaning back in the leather chair, reviewing some important paperwork that he’d brought home with him. Where on earth did that come from?
Shaking her head clear of her R-rated thoughts, she looked up and was in immediate awe over the curving white spindle staircase that wrapped around the second floor, exposing a chandelier she’d only once seen its equal in a Ritz Carlton hotel. This house, in a neighborhood like this one, had to be worth close to four million, she speculated.
Glancing back down the hallway, Rylie heard Mitch calling her from the kitchen area. Adjusting her bag strap over her shoulder, she moved in the direction of his voice. She found Mitch standing in a state-of-the-art kitchen that Martha Stewart herself would covet. Martha would no doubt also swoon over Mitch, who was looking incredibly sexy in his T-shirt and sport shorts. His biceps strained generously through his tight sleeves, a pattern of light hair covering his long, muscular arms.
Mitch stood at the counter with a coffee mug raised. “Coffee?”
“Oh, no, thanks. I’ve already had my fill for the day. More than one cup of coffee gives me the shakes. But I’d love some water, though, if you have some.” That was a dumb thing to say – of course he has water! Idiot.
Mitch chuckled, as he grabbed a bottle of Evian out of the commercial size fridge, placing it on the counter in front of her.
She took it and looked around the room. “Thank you. This is a really beautiful house you have. It’s rather large, though, for one person. You don’t live alone, do you?”
“Of course I don’t,” he stated matter-of-factly. Rylie’s heart deflated as the words rang in her ear. She hadn’t considered the possibility that he might be married or have a live-in significant other. God, now she just felt like a floozy for the feelings he elicited with their kiss yesterday. And what an ass – how dare he kiss her like that when he was with someone. What a player! Just as well. She didn’t need anything from him, anyway.
“Oh, I see. Your wife?”
The coffee Mitch had been pouring into his cup nearly slipped out of his grip, sloshing coffee on the counter. “Wife? No, I’m not married. It’s just me and my girl here.”
“Wh? Who?” Had he mentioned a woman before now? Who is his girl? Oh dear, did he have a child?
He chuckled at her seemingly dimwitted response. “My dog…you know, the one who just slobbered all over you? Karma’s been with me since she was eight-weeks old and I got her when I still lived in the city. I knew a dog her size needed some space to run, so I found this place a few years ago in the hopes that someday I’ll fill up the bedrooms with more than just dog toys.”
Relief flooded through her like a dam that had just broken wide. He didn’t have a live-in lover! Or offspring. Just the dog. She sighed, overcome with a happy satisfaction that he was single. Not that his relationship status meant anything to her. She wasn’t planning on kissing him again. For real. She smiled, glad to know the kiss they shared didn’t make her a home wrecker or a Jezebel.
Mitch glanced up to see a wide grin emerge over her face. “What did I say that has you so amused, IQ?”
Feeling the heat rush to her face, she quickly recovered by taking a sip of water and averted her eyes from his, which were at this moment boring a hole in hers.
“N - nothing. I was just thinking about that big dog of yours as a puppy. She must have been a handful. I never had a dog growing up. My dad didn’t have the time and my brother and I certainly weren’t able to take care of one.” Stopping herself before she could say more, she noticed how Mitch was looking at her and realized to her embarrassment she had probably shared more than she should have. Damn her socially inept self.
Mitch had by now sat down on one of the kitchen bar stools and was watching Rylie intently. “Please, go on. I’d like to hear more about that.” he encouraged, his finger fiddling with the handle of the coffee cup. His lips turned up into a bright smile, showing his incredibly white teeth and a small dimple appeared in his chin. She was curious what the little cleft indentation felt like, catching herself before she reached over and placed her finger in his dimpled chin.
“My childhood was pretty boring,” she mumbled uncomfortably, pushing her hair behind her ear. Talking about herself or her past was not something she cared to do. Secrets had a tendency to reveal themselves when that happened and that was not something she wanted to divulge. “How about we move on and get working on that knee.”
Before he could protest, Rylie opened up her pink nylon gym bag and pulled out several elastic bands, weighted balls and leg weights. “Where would you like to get down to business?”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she already anticipated his likely response. His eyes flicked up and a lopsided grin overtook his face.
“Well, IQ, given that we’re in the privacy of my own home, we can get down to business anywhere you’d like,” he laughed, his grin beaming wider. “But seeing as you and I may have different versions of what that business entails, I suppose we could head downstairs to my home gym.”
Rylie was glad she had some time to compose herself as she followed Mitch down a hallway and then down a flight of stairs into his finished basement. She was mad at herself for getting so easily ruffled by his comments. She had grown up with a brother and his friends, for God’s sakes. It wasn’t unusual for her to hear crass or sexual innuendos coming from dirty-minded men. In fact, she normally joined right in without any qualms with a few “That’s what she said” retorts. But it made her jumpy and itchy coming fr
om Mitch. She snarled at her own stupidity.
At the bottom of the stairway, she turned to see once again, the entire back wall of the basement was floor-to-ceiling glass windows, leading out to the patio and pool area.
Stopping in the center of the room, Rylie surveyed the large workout area, complete with all the standard gym equipment – treadmill, elliptical, rowing machine, a full rack of free weights, Physio balls in various colors and sizes, a hanging boxing bag and several mats. A door was open that led into what looked like a shower facility.
Catching the direction of her interest, Mitch explained. “There’s also a massage table in the room to the right, a steam room and an infrared sauna room.”
She gulped and raised her eyes incredulously at him. “Impressive. Where’s Inga, your Swedish massage girl? She off today?” Although she was kidding, there was a distinct possibility he did have his own personal masseuse.
He laughed. “Yep – I told her to take the day off. One beautiful woman fawning over my body today is all my ego could handle.”
She blushed as Mitch stared intently at her. “Do you really have your own personal masseuse? Never mind, don’t answer that,” she said with a hint of disgust when she saw his expression. “I don’t even want to know.”
“You’re not jealous, are you?”
“Pfft. I’m not here to win a contest over who provides the better service. It’s all about your recovery.”
“Mmm-hmm. So you say…” Mitch moved toward Rylie, his hand brushing lightly down the side of her bare arm. His touch nearly brought her to her knees. His head bent, leaning down with his lips hovering near her ear. His breath was warm and had a hint of coffee and mint toothpaste. “But if there were an Inga, you’d win hands down.”
Caught off guard by his blatantly bold compliment, she pulled back from his touch, trying to busy herself with getting acquainted with the equipment.
“I see you have a pool. Have you been using it since your surgery?” Rylie asked, as Mitch shook his head in response. “Swimming and water therapy are great ways to get exercise and to strengthen the muscles in the knee. It’s no impact on your joints and is quite soothing. At your session on Monday, if the weather is nice, I can show you some great underwater exercises.”
