Chapter 14
Emily awoke
alone in the bed. Finding her robe lying on the floor, she slipped
into it and went out into the hallway, searching for Mitch. She
found him, wearing nothing but his partially dry jeans, standing on
the back of the wraparound porch.
She watched him, his hip resting on the
banisters as he gazed out at the beach. What was he thinking? she
wondered. Was he thinking about her? Remembering their night
together? Was he regretting what had happened?
Emily backed up against the edge of the
kitchen counter. She couldn’t just go rushing outside and throw
herself into his arms. Last night had been beyond reasoning—she had
ceased to think. But in the bright light of day, she knew only too
well that she had to face reality.
Mitch Hayden had made love to her and
she had found heaven in his arms. Never had she known such passion,
such utter and complete fulfillment.
She had told him that she loved him.
Dear Lord, she had cried out her love in the throes of passion. But
not once had Mitch told her he loved her. And why should he? Emily
asked herself. Despite how much he’d wanted her, how completely he
had satisfied her, Mitch Hayden pitied her and their loving night
had been born out of that pity and out of his overwhelming sense of
guilt.
He had tried to convince her that he
found her completely beautiful, despite the hideous scars on her
back. He had kissed and caressed those scars without showing any
signs of revulsion. Had he looked at her disfigured flesh and felt
responsible? Of course he had. Mitch Hayden was an honorable man.
Time and circumstances had matured him into the man Emily
loved.
It would be so easy to accept what he
was offering, and she had no doubt that he would offer her whatever
her heart desired. If she wanted him to many her, he would. If she
wanted him to father her children, he would. Hadn’t he told her
that he’d do anything for her, even die for her?
Swinging open the back door, Emily
walked out onto the porch. Turning around when she approached,
Mitch reached out, tugged on her hands and pulled her up against
him. She laid her head on his naked chest, her nose tickled by his
hair. She smelled the unique aroma that was Mitch, and also the
undeniable scent of her own body embedded in his skin.
He threaded his fingers through the
long, tangled mane of her dark hair. “Sleep well?”
“Yes. Did you?” Tilting her head, she
looked up at him.
“I can’t remember the last time I slept
so soundly.” He kissed the tip of her nose.
“I’m afraid I can’t offer you
breakfast, unless you want some cereal,” she said. “I suppose the
milk in the refrigerator is still good.”
“I have a better idea. Go get dressed,
pack a bag and come stay at my place. I’ll fix you breakfast. I can
whip up a mean batch of scrambled eggs and toast, or I can make my
famous western omelette.”
Easing a few inches away from him, but
allowing him to keep his arms around her, Emily laid her hand on
his chest. “You want me to stay with you? Move over to your
cottage?”
Mitch caressed her arms from shoulders
to wrists, then took her hands into his, holding them securely
between their bodies. “It’s the perfect solution for both of
us.”
“How’s that?” she asked.
“I’m not going to let you be alone for
one minute until we find out who’s behind the break-ins and the
threats,” he said. “I could stay here with you, but right now you
don’t have any power, and no phone, and the glass panes in your
back door are broken.”
“So you’re inviting me to stay with you
until my power and phone are restored and my back door is repaired
because you’re determined to play bodyguard?”
“I want to be more than your bodyguard,
pretty lady.” He lifted her arms and placed them around his
neck.
Emily’s stomach flip-flopped. “What do
you want to be?”
“Your bodyguard, your friend, but most
of all, I want to be your lover. Tonight. Tomorrow night. All the
nights for the rest—”
Leaving one hand around his neck, she
reached out and covered his lips with the tip of her index finger.
“I’ll go get dressed and pack enough for tonight. I won’t argue
with you, Mitch. I need you. But, when this business about the
break-ins and the threats is over, you and I have some important
things to settle between us.”
“I thought we did that last night.” He
kissed her finger that hovered over his lips.
“Last night was special. I’ll never
forget it.”
“Hey, you make it sound as if it’ll
never happen again, and I’m here to tell you that—” he jerked her
back into his arms, pressing her against his aroused body “—last
night was just the beginning for us.”
Twenty minutes later after phoning
Nikki to tell her about the break-in last night and that she’d be
late for work, Emily stood at the kitchen counter in Mitch’s
beachfront cottage. She’d convinced Mitch to leave the cooking to
her. Deftly mixing together the ingredients for pancakes, she began
preparations for their breakfast while Mitch showered and
shaved.
She wasn’t a fool. She knew only too
well that she and Mitch didn’t have a future together. But she also
knew that by allowing Mitch to stay in her life, now, when she
truly needed someone for support and caring and protection, she
could help ease his guilty conscience. He so desperately wanted to
do something for her. This way, he could.
Once the police caught the person
responsible for the break-ins, she and Mitch would have to face the
truth about their relationship.
The ringing phone jarred Emily from her
private thoughts. Leaving the wooden spoon resting in the pancake
batter, she wiped her hands off on the dishcloth she’d laid over
her shoulder and reached out for the wall phone near the back
door.
“Hello.”
“I knew it! I told myself you weren’t
foolish enough to trust that man, but there you are at his house,”
the agitated masculine voice said. “You could have called me
yourself and told me what happened instead of having Nikki call.
But then, I suppose you knew how upset I’d be. When Nikki told me
that you were staying with Mitchell Hayden, I couldn’t believe it.
Emily, have you lost your mind?”
“Good morning to you, Uncle Fowler. And
yes, I’m just fine. Thanks for asking.”
“Don’t be sarcastic with me, young
lady. I don’t think this situation is at all amusing. I find it
terribly disturbing!”
“I agree, Uncle Fowler. Those two
hoodlums who broke into my house last night disturbed me. As a
matter of fact, they scared the living daylights out of
me!”
Fowler cleared his throat several
times. “Well, yes, I suppose they did, and I’m so very sorry that
you had to go through that, my dear. But the facts remain the same.
Mitchell Hayden cannot be trusted, and I believe you’re being
unwise to stay with him when you could come home to me. Or you
could stay with Nikki. That man will only hurt you
again.”
“Uncle Fowler, I wish I could make you
understand how I feel about Mitch and why I trust him.” Emily
paused when she heard Fowler’s groaning huff. “He rescued me from
those boys who broke into my house. He doesn’t want to hurt me.
Don’t you see? He saved me.”
“He could have hired those boys just so
he could play hero,” Fowler said. “I warn you, Emily, don’t trust
the man!”
“What’s happened to change you so? Up
until recently, you’ve been my biggest supporter. You’ve always
believed in me and encouraged me—”
“You’re the one who has changed—since
you became infatuated with your husband’s murderer!” Fowler’s voice
trembled with emotion.
Emily clutched the phone with
white-knuckled tension. Willing herself to stay calm, she took a
deep breath. “Mitch didn’t kill Stuart. He made some mistakes. He
believed in the wrong people. But Mitch has paid dearly for what
happened.”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing you
correctly. What sort of spell has that man cast on you?” Fowler
asked.
“As long as you’re being this
unreasonable, I’m not going to discuss Mitch Hayden with
you.”
“Don’t you realize that I have your
best interest at heart? I can’t bear the thought of your wasting
yourself on a man like that. The man is using you to regain
respectability. If Stuart’s widow can forgive him,
then—”
“Please, don’t do this to me. You know
how much you mean to me. Don’t make me choose between you and
Mitch.”
Mitch, freshly shaved and showered and
neatly dressed in clean jeans and cotton shirt, walked into the
kitchen. He halted behind Emily when he realized she was on the
phone.
“He really has you fooled, doesn’t he?”
Fowler’s voice rose to one octave below a scream. “Whatever’s
happened to make you trust this man so? My God, Emily, you haven’t
slept with him, have you?”
“That’s none of your
business.”
“You have!” Fowler said, his voice loud
enough to hurt Emily’s ears. “He’s brainwashed you. I beg you not
to trust that man. Run from him. Get away, before he harms you.
Please, let me come and get you. Let me take care of you. Keep you
safe.”
Emily shook her head, not knowing
whether to feel sorry for her uncle or to be angry with him.
“Nothing you say or do is going to convince me that Mitch is a
threat to my safety.”
Mitch reached around her and grabbed
the phone out of her hand. Gasping, Emily jumped out of the way and
stared at him with round eyes, startled by his
actions.
“Jordan, this is Mitch Hayden. I just
thought you should know that if anyone wants to get to Emily,
they’ll have to come through me first.”
Mitch slammed down the telephone
receiver, then turned to Emily. “Want me to help you with the
pancakes?”
“What?”
“Pancakes. Breakfast. Remember, you
didn’t want scrambled eggs or an omelette.”
“Oh. Right.” Mitch’s words to her uncle
kept ringing in her ears. Over and over again she heard him saying,
To get to Emily, they’ll
have to come through me first. “You—you get the coffee
ready. I’ll make the pancakes.”
He kissed her on the cheek, then
swatted her on the behind. She gazed at him as if seeing him for
the first time. When he smiled at her, her heartbeat accelerated.
She smiled back at him.
“So the police don’t have a clue who
hired those boys to break into your house, huh?” Handing Emily a
glass of iced tea, Nikki Griffin sat down beside her on the
tan-and-blue striped sofa.
“Not a clue.” Emily sighed. “But
I...well, there’s something that I haven’t told anyone. Not the
police. Not even Mitch.”
Nikki sipped on her tea, then set her
glass on the cocktail table in front of her. “What’s going on? Why
are you keeping secrets from the police?”
“It may be nothing. Really. Just a
silly suspicion.”
“So tell me!”
Emily scooted to the edge of her seat,
moving closer, then glanced around the room as if checking for
eavesdroppers. “Last evening, I had a date with Charles, and when
he brought me home, I told him that I wasn’t going to see him
again, that I’d made a mistake leading him on.”
Nikki whistled long and low. “I’ll bet
he wasn’t pleased to hear that.”
“He asked me if I was in love with
Mitch and I told him that it was none of his
business.”
“I see. You’re wondering if Charles is
behind the letters and phone calls and break-ins, aren’t
you?”
“Isn’t he the one with the most reason
to want Mitch out of the way? Charles wants me to marry him. I
think he loves me, in his own way, but part of wanting to be my
husband is his desire to please Uncle Fowler and move into Stuart’s
place as the Jordan heir.”
“But Charles thought he was getting
somewhere with you,” Nikki said. “Why would he have hired those
boys days ago to break into your house again last
night?”
“I’m not sure, but I think Charles
sensed that things weren’t right between us, that I still had
feelings for Mitch. Maybe he hired those boys hoping I’d turn to
him for help and stay away from Mitch.”
“Anyone could have hired those young
thugs.” Nikki reached out and took Emily’s hands into hers, giving
her a reassuring squeeze. “You said both of them are only seventeen
and the police told you they’re the kind of kids who are always in
trouble, the kind who’d do just about anything for
money.
“I know I’ve thought Charles was the
bad guy in all this, but I’m not one hundred percent sure
anymore.”
“Do you suspect someone else?” Emily
asked.
“Rod Simmons has been acting strange
lately. Strange even for an artistic, moody, intellectual guy like
him.” Nikki released Emily’s hands. “I can’t explain how I feel.
It’s just...well, Rod’s been acting like he’s guilty of something.
Maybe I’m nuts. Maybe I’m just imagining things.”
“No, you’re not nuts, and if you’re
imagining things, so am I,” Emily said. “I’ve noticed a change in
Rod’s behavior lately. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but now that
you mention it, he has been acting guilty. I think he’s been trying
to tell me something, but I’ve been putting him off, afraid of what
he might say or do.”
“So, the suspects haven’t changed since
day one, have they?” Nikki shifted uncomfortably in her seat, then
stared directly at Emily.”
“What is it?”
“There are two more obvious suspects,
you know.”
“Not Mitch.”
“Yeah, Mitch. Even though I don’t think
it’s him. I’m sure the police still have him at the top of their
list, thanks to Fowler. And he’s another name that should be on the
list.”
“Uncle Fowler? You’re joking.” Emily’s
eyes widened in disbelief. “Nikki, if there’s anyone on earth I can
trust to never hurt me, to always do what he thinks is best for me,
that person is Uncle Fowler.”
“Maybe he thinks scaring you into
moving back to Mobile with him and into putting Mitch out of your
life is what’s best for you.”
“Uncle Fowler would never... No, it
can’t be him. The phone calls and letters were from someone who
wanted to be my lover. Uncle Fowler doesn’t feel that way about me.
He loves me like a daughter or a little sister.”
“I thought so, too. But maybe we were
wrong.”
“It has to be Rod or Charles or... It
isn’t Mitch and it isn’t Uncle Fowler. Oh, Lord, Nikki, if only the
police could discover the man’s identity and put an end to this
insanity. I don’t know how much more I can take.”
“I can imagine how you must have felt
last night. All alone in the dark, with two guys breaking into your
home.”
Emily lifted the moist glass to her
lips and tasted the cool tea. “I was scared to death, but at the
same time, I was so angry. Angry with the men breaking into my
house...but—but most of all, I was angry with myself because of my
irrational fear of the dark.”
“I wouldn’t call your fear of the dark
irrational,” Nikki said. “Didn’t your psychiatrist tell you that
fear of the dark was a common problem for people who’d lived
through fires after being trapped in all that pitch-black darkness
caused by the smoke?”
Emily set down her tea beside Nikki’s
on the table. She ran her fingers up and down the frosted surface,
making streaks on the glass. “I faced the darkness outside when I
went through my window. I was afraid, but I knew I didn’t have any
choice. Mitch said that I’d been very brave.”
“Mitch is right. It took a lot of
courage for you to leave your only source of light.”
“I don’t know what I’d have done
without Mitch. He came charging to my rescue the minute I called
him.” Releasing her tea glass, Emily leaned back on the sofa and
faced Nikki. “I shudder to think what might have happened if those
boys had cut the phone wires a minute sooner.”
“You’d have made it to
Mitch.”
“Yes, I think I would have. I knew that
if only I could get to Mitch, everything would be all right.” Emily
wiped her hands across the top of her thighs, then bunched up the
soft lavender cotton material of her slacks, playing nervously with
its softness between her thumb and forefinger. “I’ve tried to be
strong. All these years since... I had to be strong. Uncle Fowler
kept telling me to be strong. And I was. For Uncle Fowler’s sake at
first, and then for my own sake. I had to be strong to
survive.”
Nikki placed her hand on Emily’s
shoulder. “What are you trying to say?”
“I suppose I’m asking you if it’s all
right for me not to be so strong right now, if it’s all right for
me to lean on Mitch, to be thankful for his
protection.”
“Oh, dammit, Em, I’m the wrong person
to ask about leaning on a man, about being thankful to some man for
protecting you.”
“Put aside your liberal feminist
thinking for just one minute and answer me truthfully. If you were
in my position, would you want a man like Mitch Hayden to take care
of you?”
Nikki frowned, crinkling her freckled,
slightly sunburned nose. “The question isn’t fair.”
“Confess,” Emily said. “Not for your
sake, but for mine.”
“Okay. But if what I’m about to say
ever leaves this room, I’ll deny every word.”
Emily laughed. “I’ll never tell a
living soul.”
“If I were in your situation, yes, I’d
want a man just like Mitch Hayden to take care of me. I’d want to
know that he’d put his life on the line for me, that he’d stand
between me and whoever was threatening my life.” Glancing around
the room, Nikki tapped her fingers on her knees. “That doesn’t mean
I wouldn’t be trying to take care of myself, and if it came to a
showdown, I’d be right there, fighting for myself. It’s just that I
think it would be kind of nice to know I wasn’t facing the big, bad
world all alone.”
“Mitch told Uncle Fowler that if anyone
came after me, they’d have to go through him first.”
“I’d say the guy’s in love with
you.”
“I wish I could believe that.” Emily
sighed, afraid that her doubts and fears would keep Mitch and her
apart.
Was that what the future held for them?
Doubt and uncertainty? Even if Mitch told her he loved her, could
she believe him? He’d do anything to make her happy, wouldn’t he?
Even lie to her.
Mitch waited in the foyer while the
housekeeper went to inform Mr. Jordan that he had a
visitor.
So this was where Emily had spent the
past five years, surrounded by wealth and a proud heritage. He
couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like belonging to a
prestigious family such as the Mobile McLains or Jordans. He’d been
one of those Hayden kids who lived in a shack and wore hand-me-down
clothes. He could well remember folks in Sutra, Mississippi,
looking down their noses at Johnny Ray and Judy Hayden’s passel of
kids. Pity and charity. God, how he hated both.
And Emily thought all he felt for her
was pity, that his feelings for her were born out of guilt. Hell,
she was right, up to a point. He did feel guilty about the part
he’d played in destroying her life; he’d probably always feel
guilty. And maybe there was an element of pity in his feelings, a
deep heartfelt sympathy for what she’d endured. But there was so
much more to his feelings than pity and guilt. He cared for Emily
Jordan in a way he’d never cared for another human being. And last
night, he had wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another
woman.
But would she believe him if he told
her? Even if he swore on a stack of Bibles as high as Fowler
Jordan’s two-story house?
He knew he didn’t deserve her, knew
that she was far too good for him, but that didn’t change the way
he felt about her. He didn’t have much to offer a woman, but he
could and would offer Emily all that he had. And if she accepted
him, he’d find a way to give her everything she
wanted.
“Mr. Jordan will see you now,” the
short, plump, middle-aged housekeeper said. “This way,
please.”
She led Mitch into what he assumed was
the front parlor, a room filled with priceless
antiques.
“What are you doing here, Hayden?”
Fowler Jordan, looking every minute of his fifty-six years, rested
one hand on the back of a Chippendale chair and the other in the
pocket of his silk robe. “You must know that you aren’t welcome in
this house.”
“I’m here because I think you and I
should join forces to protect Emily. The last thing she needs right
now is to have to choose between you and me.” Staring directly at
Fowler Jordan, Mitch saw the bitter hatred etched on the man’s
face.
“You may have convinced my niece that
you’re innocent of any wrongdoing, that you had no part in my
nephew’s death, but you won’t convince me. I know your type.
Money-hungry trash who will do anything, use anyone, to get what he
wants. A man with any conscience at all would never insinuate
himself into the life of the widow of the man he’d
murdered!”
“Look, Jordan, I’ve spent the past five
years wallowing in guilt. You can’t say anything to me that I
haven’t said to myself. But the bottom line is that I didn’t murder
anyone. I made some stupid mistakes. Mistakes I’ll have to live
with for the rest of my life. But Emily has forgiven me. She
understands that I—”
“She isn’t thinking straight.” Fowler
glared menacingly at Mitch. “The girl’s a romantic. Always has
been. Her grandmother raised her to want a husband and children.
That’s what Emily wants and needs. You can’t offer her marriage and
children. Charles Tolbert can.”
“What makes you think I can’t offer
Emily marriage and children?”
Fowler’s eyes bulged, making them look
even larger through the bifocal lenses of his glasses. “I forbid
it! Don’t even think about the possibility. Believe me, Hayden,
I’ll find a way to stop you.”
“I had hoped you and I could reach a
compromise. For Emily’s sake.” Mitch shook his head, almost feeling
sorry for Fowler Jordan. The poor man was as obsessed with Emily as
he himself had been for the past five years. Only, Jordan’s
obsession was the controlling kind. Obviously, he thought he had
the right to plan the rest of Emily’s life.
“If you actually care about Emily, stay
away from her.” Fowler spoke quickly, his voice loud and quivering.
“She would never marry someone I couldn’t accept. And believe me, I
could never accept you!”
“I’m sorry you feel that
way.”
Mitch turned and walked out of the
parlor, knowing he hadn’t heard the last from Stuart Jordan’s
uncle.