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A Hopeful Heart and A Home, a Heart, A Husband: A Hopeful Heart

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Год написания книги
2019
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“Please, don’t think I’m being nosy,” she began, knowing darn well that nosy was exactly what she was being. “It’s just that I would like to know a little more about you if we are going to be rooming together.”

When his dark head jerked, Melanie held up a defensive hand.

“I know your reputation from my friends at the hospital, but…” Melanie hesitated, searching. “I don’t know you.” Her voice was soft, plaintive, a call for understanding.

Mitch had pulled a pair of tattered blue jean shorts over his swimsuit. Below the frayed cuffs, his long, muscular legs crossed and uncrossed as he fidgeted on the huge log. Finally he stood, towering over her in the gloom. Melanie could feel his blue eyes studying her. When he spoke, his voice was quiet but firm.

“Look. I’ve offered half of the prize money and a place to stay to make sure you can collect your half. Can we leave the personal histories out of it?”

He squatted in front of her and stared directly into her face. His voice was half-laughing, half-serious, but there was an underlying tenseness that Melanie couldn’t ignore.

“I give you my word I’m not an ax murderer, or a psychotic, or any of those other terrible things you’ve been imagining.” His white teeth glittered in the dark. Melanie thought immediately of a wolf and then remonstrated with her overactive imagination, sitting quietly when he continued.

“You are welcome to stay at my place for as long as you need to. But that’s it. You go your way and I go mine.”

His fingers closed around the soft flesh of her upper arms, drawing her upward. And Melanie allowed herself to be coaxed to his heat. He was like fire, and she a moth, drawn irresistibly to his flame. He attracted her with his hidden secrets and mysterious smile. His past was another facet of a man who occasionally let her see his generosity. And she would probably get burned, but right now Melanie could only concentrate on his touch.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he muttered as his eyes brushed her body, admiring her figure. “You’re a very beautiful woman and I enjoy the view as much as the next red-blooded male.” His hands slid down her back to the indentation of her waist, and he urged her closer.

“But I don’t play games, and I have no intention of getting married just because I allow you to stay in my apartment.”

“I never said I wanted to get married! Mitchel Stewart, you are the most egotistical, pushy, rude, overbearing—”

“You have said all this before,” he reminded her. His hands were stuck carelessly into his back pockets as he studied her. “Get to the point.”

With every atom of control she possessed, Melanie forced herself to refrain from violence. Curling her fingers into her palms, she sucked in a lungful of air.

“Look, buddy,” she told him, poking a finger into his very broad, very bare chest. It confused her, that tingling sensation, so Melanie put her hand down and concentrated on the words.

“I will move into your apartment because I do need that money for my friends.”

“We’ve already agreed on that.” He chuckled, then bent to stuff the remains of their meal into the tiny cooler before dousing the fire.

“Right.” Melanie tried to focus on her speech. “So I will stay there. But that’s it. Not for anything else.”

She tried to emphasize the words, but somehow they had little effect on Mitch. He smiled that lazy, sexy smile and agreed with her quietly as he tugged her arm.

“Right, darlin’,” he drawled as he pulled her along beside him through the warm sand. When they reached the car, he dropped everything on the pavement beside it and wrapped one lean brown hand around her neck.

“And nothin’ anybody can say will change it,” he drawled right before his grinning lips closed on hers.

Melanie knew his effusive charm was just a cover. Something that would draw her off course so Mitch would not have to answer any questions. And she would tell him that he couldn’t just get away with this.

Soon.

With a sigh, Melanie decided she would tell him so right after she’d kissed him back. For a few delicious minutes she allowed herself to enjoy the feel of his lips tasting hers before she pulled away from his strong embrace and climbed dazedly into the car.

She knew there was something she wanted to say. But right now she couldn’t remember what it was. Not on the long drive home, not when Mitch kissed her a very thorough good-night outside her apartment and not when she was lying in her soft bed much later.

“Thanks for the sign, Lord,” she whispered. “I’m taking this to mean that I should proceed full steam ahead. Now, if You could just work on his attitude a little.”

A smile curved her soft, full lips as she drifted off. Yes, he had a bad attitude, all right. Tomorrow, she decided. She would remember to tell him off tomorrow.

“Oh. Uh, hello. Miss Langford, isn’t it?” Mitch stared at the older blond woman in the doorway of his apartment. “Is there something I can do for you?”

Hope pressed past him without a word, her face drawn tight, lips pursed as she motioned to the items scattered at her feet.

“Actually there’s quite a lot. But for right now, would you mind bringing in my suitcases? I’ll be sharing Melanie’s room. You’re not going to destroy my best friend’s daughter’s reputation as long as I can stop it!”

Mitch stared at her, his mind whirling. Was this what Gramps had meant this morning on the phone? What had he said? “Hope has her feathers ruffled.” Was that it? Apparently she was angry with him. Mitch groaned at the thought of this straitlaced busybody and her obviously mistaken impression of his and Melanie’s unusual arrangement.

“Miss Langford, I assure you that there’s nothing like that going on. Melanie and I—”

“Will have a chaperone,” she interrupted smartly, straightening the cushions thrown haphazardly on his sofa. Her eyebrows lifted disdainfully at the coffee rings covering the glass surface of the coffee table. “Melanie should be staying with her mother. And if it weren’t for the missionaries Charity had already invited, I’m sure that’s where she would be.”

Mitch watched transfixed as Miss Langford picked up a half-eaten box of doughnuts and dumped the whole lot in the trash.

“Hey! That was my breakfast,” he told her, frowning resentfully. He decided to make a show of bravado, even though his knees were shaking. There was something about this woman that brooked no nonsense.

“Now, look here, Miss Langford. I’m letting Melanie use the spare room so she can get her half of the money for that nursing home she’s so wrapped up in. That’s all there is to it.”

“Fine.” Hope Langford stared at the carpet, grimacing at the bits of lint and fluff. “And while she’s here, I’m here,” she told him firmly. “Please bring my things through to Melanie’s room. I’d like to get settled in.”

Mitch found himself obeying even though the last thing he wanted was this neatness freak in his apartment. Fortunately his spare room had two single beds. He watched transfixed as Hope removed perfectly pressed clothes from the satchels and hung them in the minuscule closet that already housed a few of Melanie’s uniforms.

His original houseguest had planned on moving the rest of her stuff tonight. It was going to be a tight squeeze in this dinky apartment, he decided, leaving Hope to pour himself another cup of coffee and contemplate the doughnuts in their box in the garbage can.

A really tight squeeze, if she was going to insist on chucking out his food supply. But how did you throw out an older woman determined to save the reputation of someone who didn’t need it?

“Coffee is very hard on your stomach lining,” Hope said in a stern voice. “I make a wonderful protein drink with raw eggs and yogurt that would give you lasting energy.”

Mitch set down his cup hastily and grabbed his briefcase. He had to get out of here. Quickly.

“Er, uh, no, thanks,” he mumbled, grabbing the doorknob like a lifeline. “I have to get to work. Early appointment.” At the convenience store across the street, he thought. He almost had the door safely closed behind him.

“Young man?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, debating the propriety of a salute.

“I will need a key to this residence. There are several matters to be taken care of today and I will need to let myself in and out.”

“Oh. Yes, of course.” He thought. “I made a spare for Melanie yesterday. I think it’s in the kitchen. In the drawer beside the sink. I’ll get another cut this afternoon.” He watched her carefully to see if that was all right with her, and when she nodded, he turned to escape.

“Have a nice day,” she told him cheerfully.

No doubt all that happiness came from her power drink. He shuddered and climbed into his red Camaro with relief. Thank goodness it was running properly, at last. At work, Mitch could hardly wait to dial Melanie’s work number. When she answered, he almost bellowed at her over the phone.

“Thanks a lot,” he shouted angrily.
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