She was just being conversational since the stories Mandy had told her were so interesting, but she felt a little wistful at the end, thinking of what it must be like to have a husband so devoted, so completely in love, that he’d do the hardest things for her.
Mitchell was great. He was amazing. But he wasn’t devoted to her, and he would always take the easiest road.
“Well, he’s not your husband,” Mitchell said, sounding even gruffer, “so maybe you shouldn’t swoon over him.”
Deanna stiffened, her mouth dropping open briefly. “I’m not swooning over him!”
“Aren’t you?”
“No. I’m happy for them. I think it’s really nice. Just so you know, I’m not in the habit of swooning over other women’s husbands.”
“Good.” Mitchell narrowed his eyes at her, and his body felt unusually stiff. “Because you’re stuck with me as a husband for three more months.”
She wished he hadn’t brought up the three more months. She would have been able to indulge in the notion that he was feeling a little jealous, but the reminder of the end date on their marriage made it all rather superficial.
“I know that,” she murmured, staring down at her hands in her lap.
After a minute, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and leaned down to say in her ear, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be grouchy.”
She smiled, relieved the tension was over. They normally got along pretty well, and she didn’t like when they argued.
When they argued—and when they kissed—things felt out of control.
“I think that’s Andrew,” she said, going back to their pleasant conversation. She nodded toward a handsome, grinning man chatting to Marietta at the front of the church. “I think he’s your kind of guy.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“He’s one of those charming types who eases through life without many obstacles,” she said, making sure her voice was teasing so he wouldn’t take it as an insult. “That’s what Mandy said, anyway. I’ve never met him.”
“I don’t ease through life,” Mitchell said. He was frowning in Andrew Damon’s direction as if he wasn’t liking what he saw.
“Yes, you do,” she said in surprise. “You’ve said so yourself. You don’t make things hard on yourself if you can help it. Didn’t you say that?”
He was still frowning as his body relaxed. She could feel it, because his arm remained around her. “Yeah. I guess I did.” They watched as Andrew threw back his head and laughed, with a kind of good-natured freedom that was impossible to deny. He leaned down to kiss Marietta’s cheek before he headed back to the foyer to do his duty as usher.
“I’m not as smarmy as him though,” Mitchell said softly, still sounding a little bad-tempered.
“He’s not smarmy,” Deanna objected. “He looks really nice. He just has that charm thing going on—like you do.” When Mitchell wouldn’t stop frowning, she asked, “Why do you think it’s a putdown? Surely you know that you can talk people around your little finger if you try the least little bit.”
“I guess so.”
“It’s not an insult! I wish I was more like that. I can’t charm people into doing anything.”
His expression changed as he focused on her again. “Yes, you can.”
“No, I really can’t. I can make a reasoned argument or I can guilt them into doing something, but I can’t charm them with the power of my personality.”
“You’ve got a great personality.”
She shook her head, feeling fond and unusually soft even though he wasn’t displaying any of his characteristic charm. “Once you get to know me, maybe. But not in general. Did you or did you not think I was boring and vanilla the first time you met me?”
His mouth twisted in amusement. “Well…”
“That’s what I thought.”
***
Mitchell tried to pay attention to the wedding, but he honestly didn’t care all that much about the wedding of people he didn’t even know.
The bride was lovely and had the most genuine smile he’d ever seen, and she and Ben Damon seemed to really be in love, but otherwise Mitchell’s mind wandered through the ceremony.
He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much that Deanna evidently thought he was shallow and superficial and not inclined to work hard at anything he did.
He’d always admitted to himself he was like that. He’d always assumed it was the only reasonable way to be. But he found himself wishing that Deanna had a better impression of him.
She knew him really well by now—maybe better than anyone except his mother and sister. He hoped there was more of him to know than a charming surface.
They went to the reception afterward, and Mitchell smiled and made pleasant small talk with all the people he met. The Damons were big names in the hospitality industry—far bigger than he was. They could be good acquaintances to cultivate. If he was smart, he’d start making inroads now.
But every time he began, he felt Deanna’s eyes on him, and he wondered if she thought he was being smarmy.
About an hour into the reception, Deanna hooked her hands in the lapels of his jacket and leaned up to whisper very softly, “What’s the matter with you?” Her eyes scanned his face with what looked like concern.
“Nothing.” He tried to shake himself out of the strange mood since he didn’t want to have to admit it to her. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. You’re acting all weird and… I don’t know… repressed or something. Don’t you feel like socializing? I thought you’d want to make a lot of contacts here for your business.”
“Yeah.” He said the one word as a long sigh. “I don’t know. I do more than schmooze people with an agenda, you know.”
Her eyes widened dramatically. “I know that. I wasn’t putting you down. Why did you think I was putting you down?”
He had no good answer for her since he was being ridiculous. “I know you weren’t.”
“But you’re acting like…”
Since he’d somehow managed to hurt her feelings on top of all his other nonsense, he ended up bursting out, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I just hope you know there’s more to me than… than… schmoozing.”
She stared at him, clearly baffled by the admission.
Both of them were breathing heavily as they gazed at each other in silence.
Finally she said, “I know there’s more to you. Of course, I know there’s more to you. I didn’t at first. I just saw the surface. But I know there’s more now. You… you know that, right?”
There was no way he could deny that she was being sincere, and the truth washed over his heart in a way he’d never experienced before. The pleasure was far stronger and far deeper than any lust he’d ever known.
He had no idea what to do with it—this feeling of being understood, appreciated, valued—but he didn’t want it to go away.
“Okay,” he mumbled since she was obviously waiting for him to say something. “Good.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
Who knew how long they would have extended the silly interaction, but they were interrupted when Cyrus Damon came over to introduce himself since the two men had spoken on the phone a few times in the past.
Cyrus Damon was very important—and making a connection here could really help him. But Mitchell had to struggle to focus on the conversation since his mind kept drifting back to Deanna.
***
They were both quiet on the way back from the church that evening.
Mitchell tried to think of casual conversation, but he was feeling too deep, too intense, too strange to even process, much less push back in order to focus on superficialities.
Deanna seemed to be in a reflective mood as well. She made a few comments about people they’d met but didn’t seem inclined to have an extended conversation.
When they got back to the house, they stopped in the entryway and stared at each other.
&n
bsp; “Well,” Deanna said, gazing up at him, looking a little self-conscious.
“Yeah.” Mitchell had no idea what else to say. He wanted to reach out to her, draw her close, somehow show her how he was feeling, but he seemed trapped in a way he didn’t understand at all.
“Well,” she said again, “Did you want to…” She trailed off, and he didn’t know why.
But he did know what he wanted to do. And suddenly he couldn’t stop himself.
He reached out for her, taking her head between both of his hands and leaning down into a deep kiss.
She froze just briefly before something seemed to crack inside her, and she was suddenly all in. She grabbed for his neck, arching her soft body into his as she opened to the advance of his tongue.
She moaned in her throat as he claimed her mouth, pouring all his conflicted feeling and tension into the kiss.
When she broke away from the kiss, gasping and still clinging to him, he gathered her up in his arms and carried her toward his bedroom, praying she wasn’t going to tell him to stop or pull away.
She didn’t seem inclined to do so. After he lowered her onto his bed, she pulled him down on top of her, kissing him eagerly, passionately, as if she’d let all the depth and strength of her true self go at last.
Mitchell was already fully turned on, throbbing with need and a hunger that went far beyond the physical. He was devouring her with kisses, his hands moving over her body, trying to make her feel the same kind of arousal he felt.
She was sweet and passionate and responsive, and everything he felt for her, all of what had been building for the past three months, was pulsing through his body with his blood, with his heartbeat.
He couldn’t even speak—it went so deep, it was taking him so strong.
A phone rang in the room, and it took a minute to recognize it was Deanna’s.
With a whimper, she pulled it out of her little beaded purse, which was still hooked over her arm, and threw both the phone and the purse off the bed.
Relieved it wasn’t a real interruption, Mitchell kissed her again. She was squirming beneath him, and he knew—he knew—she had completely let herself go.
He was reveling in it when the phone rang again from the floor. He growled with annoyance at the second interruption, but she didn’t seem inclined to get distracted. Her little hands were reaching for the bulge in his pants, squeezing in a way that made him moan.
He was about to start tearing off clothes when his phone rang. He knew it was his because the ringing came from his pocket.
Surprised and annoyed, he pulled it out, glancing at the screen briefly before he started to throw it on the floor with Deanna’s.
But the name on the screen registered and gave him pause.
Panting, he stared at his phone. “It’s Kelly. She must be trying to reach you.”
Deanna was flushed and gasping, and it obviously took her a minute to process what he’d said. “Kelly? It must be important if she’s calling you to reach me.”
He nodded and handed her his phone, his erection aching in his pants and somehow knowing it wasn’t going to get satisfied after all.
It wasn’t.
Deanna’s face twisted after she answered and asked Kelly what was the matter.
Something bad had happened. It wasn’t going to be their night for sex after all.
Nine
Mitchell eased on the brakes as they approached a stoplight, and he glanced over at Deanna in the passenger seat beside him.
She looked tense and stiff and pale even in the fading light of the evening.
“What exactly did Kelly say?” he asked, his gut roiling in concern after the call she’d received.
Deanna cleared her throat. “She said that Grandmama was in the hospital—and it was serious. She said she fell, but I don’t know how a fall could be so—” She broke off as her face twisted. “She was crying. I couldn’t really understand her well. She was alone with Grandmama. She must have been so scared.”
“Kelly is a smart girl and seems to have a cool head. I’m sure she did fine. And I’m sure your grandmother will be okay. Don’t start imagining the worst until you find out exactly what’s going on.”
He tried to sound encouraging, but he was afraid he just sounded trite and empty. Of course Deanna would be imagining the worst. She’d lived on the edge of everything falling apart for nearly all her life.
He thought about how he would feel if something suddenly happened to Brie or his mother. It would be shock—shock before any of the grief could be processed—since he never expected bad things to happen.
Deanna was different. When he glanced over again, he saw that her hands were twisting restlessly together in her lap, like she was clinging to her hands as the only thing left to hold on to.
He reached over and covered both of her little hands with one of his, not saying anything and not looking from the road as they started to move again.
She didn’t speak, but she didn’t pull her hands away, so that was something.
He couldn’t believe that just fifteen minutes ago, they’d been on the verge of having sex.
He drove as fast as he could to the hospital, getting there in less than twenty minutes. When he got out and walked around the car, he saw that Deanna hadn’t moved.
He went to open the passenger door and looked in at her. “Deanna?” he asked softly.
She was still twisting her hands together. “Mitchell, I’m scared.” She swallowed visibly. “We laugh at her and get annoyed at her weirdness and complain when she’s embarrassing all the time, but we love her. I love her.”
His heart clenched in sympathy. “I know, baby.” He reached in to undo her seatbelt. “But staying in the car isn’t going to hold the bad stuff back. Let’s go see how she is.”
She nodded, her eyes huge and focused up at his face.
When she still didn’t move, he stretched his arms out to help her out of the car. Her knees buckled when she stood up, so he kept an arm around her. She leaned on him slightly as they walked into the hospital.
He wondered why it felt strange until he realized that no one ever leaned on him. Not even Brie or his mother. No one truly depended on him for anything.
Until Deanna.
He asked at the front desk and discovered Mrs. Beaufort was in surgery. They were pointed toward a waiting room where they found Kelly, who was sitting alone in a corner, her arms wrapped around herself tightly. She wore her normal two long braids, and they were hanging past her downturned face.
She looked up as they approached, and her face twisted in relief. She jumped up and ran to hug Deanna, who hugged her back for a really long time.
“What happened?” Deanna asked at last, pulling away. She looked a little better now, as if taking care of Kelly had given her stride back. “How did she fall?”
“She fell down the basement stairs.”
“What?” Deanna looked horrified. “Why was she—”
“We weren’t getting hot water, so we went down to the basement to check. The hot water heater totally died, and it flooded the basement with water. When she saw it, she tried to run down there. She was worried about all her treasures.”
They’d moved her collection of historic clothes and knickknacks down to the basement while the house was being worked on—Mitchell knew that much. He could well imagine how the old lady would feel at the possibility of all of it being destroyed.
“Oh, no,” Deanna breathed.
“I’m sorry. I should have stopped her. I just—”
“I’m not blaming you. Of course it’s not your fault. So how exactly was she hurt? I mean, why is she having surgery?”
“They said she broke a hip and her arm and has a concussion, but at her age, all of it is serious. They seemed really worried about her getting hit on the head like that.”
“When did they take her into surgery?” Mitchell asked, putting a bracing hand on Deanna’s back. He didn’t like the sound of Mrs. Beaufort’s in
juries at all. He prayed she was going to be okay.
“Just a few minutes ago.” Kelly sniffed and wiped her eyes behind her glasses.
“Were you able to reach Rose?”
“Yeah. She’s going to fly back right away.”
Mitchell remembered that their other sister was in London, where the family she was a nanny for was spending the summer.
When Deanna just stood there, staring at her sister, he gently pushed against her back. “There’s nothing to do right now but wait. Why don’t you sit down?”
Deanna followed his lead and sat down on the edge of a chair. He moved beside her, trying to think of something he could do to help.
She turned to look at him, appearing almost dazed. “You don’t have to—”
“Don’t even dare to suggest that I go home,” he interrupted gruffly.
Deanna’s face contorted briefly with emotion, and Kelly gave him a curious look.
He couldn’t figure out the younger girl very well. She was young—just nineteen or so. And she seemed to be blunt and no-nonsense most of the time, but there was something delicate about her too, something sensitive she didn’t reveal to the world.
He liked her well enough. A younger sister of his wife could have been a lot more annoying than Kelly. But his thoughts soon turned back to Deanna, who was still kind of perched on her chair like she was ready to jump up at a moment’s notice.
“It’s going to be a while,” he murmured, pulling her back, adjusting her so she was leaning against his side. “You might as well try to relax.”
She gave a little snort, but she didn’t try to pull away. She breathed deeply and pressed her cheek against his shirt. Mitchell tightened his arm around her, feeling almost comforted by the fact that he might be of some help to her, that she might need him.
He liked that idea, and it was the oddest thing.
No one had ever really needed him before.
He’d never even wanted to be needed before.
***
It was more than two hours later when the doctor finally came out to give them an update.
Marry Me: a Wedding Romance Duet Page 11
