Wish On The Moon Page 7

  "If I'm getting paid, there's no need."

  Laura felt drawn to Nora. She'd always missed the influence of an older woman in her life. "We'll work together. You're not simply hired help. Okay?"

  Nora seemed pleased. "If that's what you want."

  ***

  Mitch was waiting for Laura as she descended the steps. Her eyes landed on the stern line of his jaw. It was so firm, masculine, unyielding. His strong neck and broad shoulders formed similar uncompromising lines.

  He spoke before she reached the bottom step. "You didn't have to agree to let her work here. I suggested she sit with Mandy, not take on the care of everyone."

  Laura had guessed Nora's decision would meet with Mitch's disapproval; his brooding eyes and tone proved it. "No, I didn't have to agree, but your mother is the answer to a prayer. Mandy likes her, so I won't feel so guilty when I'm at the store. Besides, I think Nora needs to be needed."

  He rested his long fingered hand on the finial-styled newel post and propped one loafer on the first step. "Maybe you're rationalizing to get what you want."

  She stopped to confront the issue straight on. "And maybe you can't see the forest for the trees. Retirement doesn't agree with everyone."

  He aligned his gaze to hers. "I want my mother to finally have the opportunity to rest and do what she wants to do."

  "Right now, she wants to take care of us. I won't let her overdo, Mitch." She gave him a sly smile and came down another step. "And I'm sure you won't, either. We'll both be under your close scrutiny."

  He seemed surprised his intentions were so obvious. His foot dropped to the foyer floor. "I protect the people I care about."

  For a moment she wanted to be one of those people. She wanted to feel his protection, know she didn't have to carry life's burdens alone, and could count on his strength to support her. He had strength, not only physical strength but strength of character. That was one of the qualities that attracted her to him.

  "They have nothing to fear from me," she assured him.

  "Time will tell." He mowed his hand through his hair. "I don't know what Ray's going to say about my mother being here."

  She was disappointed he was still suspicious of her. "He'll be thankful it's Nora rather than a stranger invading his house."

  Mitch thought about it. "You're probably right."

  The doorbell rang and Mitch said automatically, "I'll get it."

  When he opened the door, she saw his back stiffen and heard, "Carey. We didn't expect you until next week."

  Mitch's brother stepped inside and appraised the foyer with obvious interest. His hair was dark brown, thick and shaggy. It hung over his ears and across his collar. His brown eyes gleamed with mischief and his smile had the ability to charm. His jeans sported holes in the knees, the hightop sneakers were loosely tied, his red and navy striped shirt was long and stuck out from underneath his black leather jacket trimmed with silver buckles. Laura knew Mitch would never be caught dead in an outfit like that, let alone with the earring dangling from Carey's right ear.

  She descended the remaining steps. Carey eyed her thoroughly. Mitch's mouth drew into a taut line. There was something uncomfortable between the two brothers. She could feel it.

  Carey said to Mitch. "Introduce me to your pretty friend."

  Laura crossed to Carey and extended her hand. "No introductions are necessary. I'm Laura Sanders and you're Mitch's brother Carey."

  "Damned straight. I've been Mitch's brother for a long stretch." He grinned. "Along with a few other things."

  Mitch said off-handedly, "Mom said you weren't coming until next week."

  Carey unzipped his jacket, shook it off, and threw it over his arm. "I tied up loose ends before I thought I could."

  "How did you know we were here?" Mitch asked, watching his brother carefully.

  "I didn't know you were here. Mom's neighbor told me she came here to take care of a little girl."

  "My daughter, Mandy," Laura intervened. "Nora's helping us out of a tight spot."

  "Why did you come to York?" Mitch asked briskly, as if he wanted to get bad news settled quickly.

  "I was concerned about Mom."

  "Sure you were. That's why we haven't heard from you in seven months. It was a post card from Virginia Beach if I remember correctly."

  "I don't live my life like you do. Checking in isn't my style. You should know that by now."

  "Checking in would make life easier for Mom. Have you considered that?"

  Instead of waiting for the thunder to clap and the lightning to strike, Laura cleared her throat to diffuse the tension. "I'll bet Nora can't wait to see you, Carey. Go on into the living room. Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea, hot chocolate?"

  His brown eyes twinkled and his lips formed an engaging grin. "Hot chocolate with a dash of brandy or bourbon would be great if you have it."

  "You're pushing it, Carey." Mitch didn't follow his brother as Carey moved toward the room to which Laura had pointed.

  "Just stating what I like. But if it's too much trouble, hot chocolate's fine."

  Laura wondered what was behind Mitch's anger and why Carey felt the need to goad him. She'd always wanted a brother or sister to feel close to. "It's no trouble. Dad used to keep a stocked bar. I'll check. You go make yourself comfortable."

  Laura walked slowly down the hall to the den. She stopped in the doorway, remembering the last time the oak paneled walls had surrounded her. That night she'd gone from the heights of joy to the depths of betrayal. And then her father had given her the ultimatum. Choose a partnership with him or a life with the man she loved.

  Shaking off the memory, she crossed to the liquor cabinet. She stooped over and the hairs at the nape of her neck pricked. Without glancing up, she knew Mitch had entered the room. Brandy in hand, she met his blue gaze.

  "That's not necessary."

  "Is that your decision or your brother's?" she asked quietly.

  "Carey hasn't always made the best decisions."

  There was real regret in his voice and sadness. Her gaze traveled from his black hair to his forehead, his mesmerizing eyes, the long scar, his sensuous lips. "Does he have a problem with alcohol?"

  Mitch glanced away and she realized he'd been regarding her as intently as she'd regarded him. "He says he doesn't."

  She knew she was poking and he might tell her to butt out any second. One thing she'd learned was that he was a private person. So instead of following the inclination to move closer to him, she stayed where she was so she wasn't crowding him physically as well as emotionally. "You don't believe him."

  Mitch picked up the letter opener on the desk, balanced it on his finger, then set it down. "I've seen him drunk."

  "That doesn't mean he's an alcoholic."

  He glowered at her. "You sound like Mom."

  "If you're worried about him, why don't you talk to him?"

  "I'm not worried. I learned long ago worry doesn't help with Carey."

  Exasperated, she couldn't control her voice when it rose. "For God's sake, Mitch, stop pretending you're made of stone."

  Silence stretched across the room until he said, "Maybe I am."

  The softness of his statement jarred her. The urge to shake him, to make him drop his stoic facade was too determined to ignore. She was still disappointed he hadn't kissed her earlier at the hospital. Angrier still that on the ride home he'd pretended it hadn't almost happened. He was certainly in control of his on-off switch and she wanted to rattle him.

  Slowly, she approached him, stopping only when the toes of her shoes touched his. She stood there silently, her eyes fastened to his, her awareness of his breathing somehow controlling hers. Energy, so palpable she could touch it, zipped back and forth. He didn't blink when she raised her hand, nor did he try to stop her. Gently, she let the pad of her forefinger rest on the tip of his scar. His chest rose and fell faster but he remained motionless, expressionless. With tender care she traced the rosy brown mark to
his jawline. His skin was firm, taut, hot to the touch. Was it always that hot? Or did standing close to her like this have something to do with it?

  A hint of beard shadow teased her finger as she let it linger. His eyes blazed with an inner fire, belying his frozen stance, and she knew if she got too close, she'd melt.

  "You're not made of stone, Mitch." She moved her hand from his jaw to his chest and let it lay over his thumping heart. "In here, you feel as much as I do. You love your mother. You're fond of my father. And I've seen you play with Mandy and enjoy every minute."

  He clamped his fingers around her wrist and lifted her hand from his chest. "Don't try to manipulate me."

  She'd never been more aware of another human being, of the feel of his fingers on her skin, the hardness of his chest, the heat penetrating his oxford shirt, his scent that reminded her of dusky night. And she felt something she couldn't name. A feeling that was exciting but uncomfortable too.

  So uncomfortable her reply was shakier than she'd like it to be. "I'm not. I'm just trying to show you you're the same as the rest of us."

  He dropped her hand as if the last thing he wanted to do was touch her. "I don't play games, Laura."

  "I think you do," she challenged, not allowing the erotic sensations he invoked or a nameless sensation influence her to back down. "You play a game with yourself. If you pretend you don't feel something, then you think you don't. It's a no-win game."

  Mitch tore his gaze from hers and moved quickly toward the door. "I'll go start the hot chocolate. Don't forget to close the liquor cabinet. You wouldn't want Mandy exploring it."

  ***

  As soon as Mitch stepped into the kitchen, he stopped and drew in a heavy breath. What was wrong with him? When Laura touched him he felt as if he could explode into a million pieces. He always responded to life's challenges with his head, and his head controlled his body. Usually. But not around Laura Applegate Sanders. She messed up his head and aroused his body. He was still experiencing it. The softness of her fingers on his cheek, the imprint of her hand on his chest remained.

  He hated feeling vulnerable. It was a feeling he'd avoided in the last decade. He remembered the first time he'd experienced vulnerability. He'd only been five years old, too young to understand his father's black moods occurred after he'd been drinking. One night he'd heard his mother and father arguing. Carey had been sound asleep, but Mitch had snuck out of bed.

  His mother was upset. He heard her say, "They called again today. If we don't give them some money this month, they're going to turn off the electricity. The landlord's having a fit because we're two months behind in rent. Mitch needs clothes to start school--"

  His father's fist had come down hard on the table. "If you'd done what you were supposed to, we wouldn't have a second kid to worry about. Maybe we should give him to the state and let them put him in a foster home."

  Tears had streamed down his mother's face. "Never. I love Mitch as much as Carey. And I'm going to keep my family together. If you'd stop drinking and gambling our money away, we could pay our bills!"

  "I still say one less mouth to feed would help better than anything."

  Mitch had crept back to bed, a horrid, miserable weight making it hard to swallow and breathe. His father didn't want him. He'd never wanted him. And this man had the power to send Mitch away. Mitch remembered crawling into his bed, curling himself into a ball, and shaking with fear. But the fear had transformed into determination and a promise to himself and his mother. He would never give his father reason to get rid of him. He'd be good and quiet, and as soon as he was able, he'd get a job. And some day, he'd take care of his mother so she didn't have to worry about paying the bills or having enough money.

  He'd kept his promise for the most part. There were a few times when he couldn't stand hearing his father verbally abuse his mother and he'd come to her defense. But other than that, he'd stayed out of his father's way. Carey had gotten into enough trouble for both of them. But then Carey never had to worry about being sent away or not being loved. In their father's eyes, Carey could do no wrong. When he'd stolen a car for a joy ride when he was fourteen, Sam Riley had excused his son's behavior, saying it was pure male fun. Right. Even Mitch was guilty of saving Carey from the consequences of his actions to protect their mother. No more. It was time for Carey to realize he needed more than charm to get through life.

  Mitch took a saucepan from a bottom cabinet and slammed the door. As he opened the refrigerator to find the milk, Laura entered the kitchen and from her expression he knew he'd better get his armor in place fast.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  "Your Mom said she'd like hot chocolate too." Laura removed four mugs from the wooden tree.

  "I can take care of this," Mitch said. Acting casual seemed to be the best way to go.

  "Or I can do it, and you can visit with Carey."

  Casual went out the window. "Stay out of it, okay?"

  Laura took cocoa from an upper cupboard. "I have plenty to do keeping my nose in my own affairs. But whoever is in this house is my concern too. Carey said he doesn't know how long he's staying."

  "Long enough to get what he wants." At Laura's arched brow, Mitch poured milk into the saucepan. "About nine months ago, Carey came home and said he might stay if he could find a decent job. Mom was ecstatic. He didn't look for a job. He found as many poker games as he could and managed to gamble away Mom's social security check. She'd given it to him so he could put a deposit on an apartment."

  "He didn't pay her back?"

  Mitch gave a humorless laugh. "Are you kidding? He apologized, then told her he was meeting a friend in Virginia. They were going to discuss going into business together. Like always, she forgave him and wished him luck."

  Laura used the tip of a spoon to flip the lid from the cocoa. "What did you want her to do?"

  Mitch sighed. "I don't know. But at least hold him responsible for the money. I warned her not to lend it to him."

  "You've lent him money?"

  One thing he'd learned about Laura. She was as persistent as a tornado sweeping through Kansas. "More than I care to count. And he's never paid it back. So I don't do it anymore. But Mom's so gullible..."

  "She loves him."

  Mitch stirred the milk with a wooden spatula, more for something to do than because it needed stirring. "Love doesn't excuse mistakes."

  "No, but it accepts them. You wouldn't love your mother like you do if she were any different. I believe it's a parent's job to love unconditionally."

  His eyes buckled to hers. "And it's the child's job not to abuse that love."

  "I wonder what your definition of abuse is. I owe my father respect, but not my life."

  "I thought we were speaking about Carey."

  She planted her hands on her hips. "That comment was directed at me too."

  "If you feel you did the right thing, why are you so defensive?"

  "You make me feel defensive. And we were talking about you and Carey."

  He looked away. "I'd rather not."

  "Obviously," she muttered.

  "I don't want to argue with you, Laura."

  "Of course not. You want everything your way. Just like my father." She spooned cocoa into one mug after the other.

  He was about to repudiate her statement when she swung toward him and extended her hand. "Let's call a truce. At least for tonight. Nora's glad to have both her sons with her."

  "Carey and I are like oil and water."

  "You don't have to mix. Simply be sociable."

  He felt a smile coming on despite the tension between them. She was one little minx. "I think somebody else wants her own way."

  She grinned. "Could be you're right."

  His hand engulfed hers. As soon as their skin touched, heat zipped down his spine. Involuntarily, his thumb caressed the side of her hand, noting its silky skin, its tiny indentations, its warmth. "A truce. Maybe it will last longer than tonight."

  "I doubt it. I want you
to take me to the store tomorrow and show me the ropes. If you won't, I'll learn them myself."

  When he would have pulled his hand away, she gripped it tighter. "Truce still on for tonight?"

  She could challenge and defy him in one breath and turn sweet as honey in the next. Lord, was she good! He'd have to be better. "All right. The truce is still on for tonight."

  He pulled his hand back slowly. The branding contact of her touch told him he had to be careful. Very careful. Or he could lose more than his investment in Ray's business.

  ***

  The store was traditional, conservative, like a thousand other jewelry stores Laura had entered over the years. Somehow, she thought it would have changed since Mitch had become her father's partner.

  She felt Mitch's eyes on her and sensed he was waiting for a comment. He hadn't worn a coat and the fullness of muscle beneath his blue cableknit sweater was as attention- drawing as anything in the store. With an effort, she kept her mind on business.

  Glancing at the imported crystal and porcelain, the cases separated by gem types, solid gold, and more functional pieces like watches, she said, "It hasn't changed."

  He raised his chin defensively. "The jewelry business is stable."

  "There are trends that can raise sales." She picked up a o figurine and reverently caressed the blue-gray dress of the collector's item.

  "And when trends quit, we're left with inventory that doesn't sell."

  Carefully, she set the slender woman onto the glass display shelf. "The Harrisburg store has the same merchandise?"

  "No. But my clientele is different."

  He thought of the store as his. Did her father think of it that way too? She faced him squarely. "How is it different?"

  "I do have some of the most recent designs," he admitted. "State senators and representatives want the latest fashions for their wives. We have hordes of state workers who window shop on their lunch hour, see something they like and stop in. But I have my share of traditionalists too."

  As Laura passed along the cases, Mitch introduced her to the assistant manager. Laura smiled and said, "It will be a pleasure working with you."