Night Whispers Part 2

Mitch had been avoiding her. He could admit that to himself, not that he'd ever let her know. For days, he'd locked himself in his study, ostensibly working, but often just listening for her footsteps above his head. She didn't make much noise, and sometimes Mitch didn't know if she was even home. Except at night. She kept late nights. Her bedroom was right above his and he heard her when she got into her creaky bed at around three in the morning. It was as he had feared. Sometimes he swore he could hear her breathing and the rustling of her bedcovers as she made herself comfortable.

Bath time was the worst. Kelsey seemed to scorn showers, but nearly every evening, at around six, she'd run a bath. From the length of time the water ran, he'd say it was a very deep bath. Soft strains of music would sometimes drift down through the pipes, and often an hour would pa.s.s before he'd hear the tub drain. Sometimes he'd close his eyes and picture her, with her hair up on her head and a few loose tendrils hanging down, leaning back in the claw-foot tub wearing nothing but a thick coat of bubbles.

"Carry this for me, will you?"

Kelsey pressed one laundry basket into his arms, then walked up the bas.e.m.e.nt stairs with the other one. In the kitchen, Mitch set the basket on the table, casually lifted her slacks and started folding. She did the same.

"How's the book coming?"

Kelsey knew Mitch was writing a textbook on the inherent changes in post-Tiananmen Square China. His first anthropology textbook, which had just been released a few months ago, was already in use at various colleges. That had surprised some folks back home to no end. Many people couldn't forget his teenage reputation as the resident hooligan.

He shrugged. "Just scratching the surface."

"You know, I still can't picture it. You, a college professor and now a textbook writer. When I first met you, I figured you would do something adventurous or daring with your life." She shook her head in wonder. "It's just that, I don't know, you seem so different. I guess I saw you being something like your parents, the big-shot archaeologists, but more along the lines of Indiana Jones, whip and all."

"And instead," Mitch said with a wry smile, "you find I'm just a boring, conservative bookworm."

Kelsey eyed him speculatively. He might be able to fool some people with that reclusive writer bit, but she knew him too well. She saw the dangerous gleam in his eyes and the sardonic smile on his lips. The way he held himself, all coiled and ready for action, and the way his voice dropped to a whisper when he was angry spoke volumes. He might have learned some self-restraint, but inside Mitch Wymore there still lurked a potential h.e.l.l-raiser.

"Yeah, right. And I'm a debutante," she drawled.

She read the laughter in his dark blue eyes as he looked her over, head to toe, his gaze lingering on the haphazard ponytail and the wisps of hair dangling over her forehead.

"Come on. What's the story? How did Mitch the bad seed end up like this?"

"Why are you so surprised? I've always loved reading, writing and researching. Never had much problem in school...at least not academically. I've inherited that from my parents." He pulled a chair out and sat down at the table.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she muttered, disgust lacing her voice, "I heard all about it. Doctorate by twenty-six. Gag me."

He grinned. "You did ask. Anyway, I taught for a while, found I didn't much like being restricted by cla.s.s schedules and grading papers. Writing seemed a perfect alternative."

"Yeah, but why textbooks?"

"Well, I'd been writing articles for journals, magazines, National Geographic National Geographic and the and the Smithsonian Smithsonian, that kind of thing."

If anyone else had said something like that, they would probably be accused of bragging. But Kelsey had known him long enough to know that Mitch wasn't touting his accomplishments. He merely stated fact.

"Anyway, I called a publis.h.i.+ng company to complain that they kept updating texts and raising the prices so high my students couldn't afford to take my cla.s.ses. I made some contacts at the company, found myself asking questions about how these texts were written. Sounded interesting. I liked the idea of travel and research and writing, and tying it all together with academia."

"Think you'll ever go back to teaching?"

"Probably. I did give some guest lectures at the university in Beijing, since I was working closely with one of their professors. I might teach a cla.s.s here next semester, just to keep my foot in the door. But thanks to a nice little trust fund from my grandfather, I'm not tied down to a nine-to-five job. And that's the key, because maybe next time the company will need something on the tribes of the Amazon and I'll be off again."

It all made sense, in his annoyingly logical way. She had had always pictured Mitch ending up a world explorer like his parents. But their careers had cost him a real family life during his childhood, and had instilled in him a need for security. It appeared he'd found a way to do his adventuring in spurts, allowing him to also be the academic, the writer...the loner. always pictured Mitch ending up a world explorer like his parents. But their careers had cost him a real family life during his childhood, and had instilled in him a need for security. It appeared he'd found a way to do his adventuring in spurts, allowing him to also be the academic, the writer...the loner.

That was the part that bothered her. Mitch seemed very much alone. "Do you see much of your parents?"

"Not really. They're wrapped up in their newest project outside Cairo. But they were here last Christmas. It was the first holiday we've spent together in about ten years. I have to admit, it was nice seeing them." He chuckled. "I think they've finally stopped worrying I'm going to end up in jail."

Kelsey didn't know the elder Wymores very well. They'd always seemed very exotic to her, and when Mitch first started coming around, she'd envied him his world-traveling parents. But once she realized just how unimportant he felt to them, she'd thanked her lucky stars for her own homebody family.

"I'm glad you've worked things out with them."

Though he shrugged and maintained a nonchalant expression, Kelsey suspected he, too, was glad to have some sort of relations.h.i.+p with his only living relatives.

"I imagine you're getting a lot done on your book," she said, trying to lighten the conversation, "the way you keep yourself locked in your study."

"Lonely, Kelsey?"

"No, of course not," she insisted. "Actually, it's nice having the house so quiet. Fred makes almost no noise, which has been great since I started working the night s.h.i.+ft and sleeping late in the morning."

"Night s.h.i.+ft? Since when?"

"Well," she said, wis.h.i.+ng she'd not brought up the subject, "two months ago I filled in for Mafia Don when he was on vacation. And it went over pretty well. It was my first shot on the air alone here, and I guess I did a good job. "

"Mafia Don's the guy who handles the evening rush-hour show, right? The one who always argues with every caller? I didn't realize you were working with him."

"After my interns.h.i.+p, they offered me a permanent job at the station. I was just supposed to work with Dr. Hal, the shrink. He went kind of nuts on the air one day," Kelsey said with a small grin. "He started yelling at people, comparing their problems with his own. He, uh...got a little personal...something about liking to wear high heels and fruit on his head. That was his last day. So they temporarily expanded Don's show and made me his on-air sidekick."

"Kelsey Logan, the 'pay attention to me' queen, somebody's sidekick? I have trouble picturing that."

"Ha, ha, very funny. Anyway, Don was away, I filled in, got a great response, and they gave me a shot at my own show."

"Do they have you doing the world issues in the evenings?"

"Not exactly," she said as she quickly grabbed a s.h.i.+rt.

"What then?"

Kelsey finished the last s.h.i.+rt and stacked everything back in the empty laundry basket. Stalling further, she got a gla.s.s and poured herself some ice water, hoping he'd move on to something else while she slowly drank it.

Mitch didn't budge. He c.o.c.ked his head in that irritating way and raised an eyebrow, as he always had when waiting for her to take her turn in Monopoly when she'd just rounded the corner toward Boardwalk and he had all the hotels!

"It's a new show, okay?" she said, finally. "Right now I'm just winging it. The topic changes constantly."

Mitch knew she'd been itching for a break on a big-city station. Her mother had said Kelsey had been a big hit on the local station back home. With her talent for impersonations and her quick wit, Kelsey was a natural performer. She had always said she'd be on stage, TV, film or on the radio. Most times he'd just wished she'd be on another planet.

"What time are you on?"

"Late night. Ten to two."

Mitch frowned. "You mean you're working until two in the morning in a nearly deserted building in a not-so-great part of town?"

"It's perfectly safe. There are plenty of people around at night, including a security guard. And I park right by the door. Would you please stop treating me like a little girl?" she snapped.

Mitch bit back a retort. He hadn't meant to patronize her. But he'd promised her parents she'd be safe living in Baltimore. He hadn't been around to keep an eye on her for the first several months, but intended to remedy that starting right now. He was going to look after her whether she liked it or not.

Kelsey saw the caretaker look in his eye and was not in the mood to deal with it. No way was she going to start explaining to him about Night Whispers Night Whispers and hear his lecture about why she shouldn't do it. That would come soon enough. and hear his lecture about why she shouldn't do it. That would come soon enough.

"Thanks for your help. I'll see you later," Kelsey said as she tried to stack the two laundry baskets together.

Mitch grabbed one away from her and said, "Let me help."

Kelsey moved toward the heavy oak door that led into the hallway. The hall extended along one side of the house, from back to front. She always used it to access the kitchen and, of course, the bas.e.m.e.nt laundry room. Mitch, however, walked toward the other door, which led into his living room. She followed him.

There were two entrances to Mitch's apartment, one from the main foyer of the house, and the other from the kitchen. Kelsey had felt free to enter his private rooms to clean and decorate while he was away, but had not set foot in this area since his return. The first thing she noticed was the clutter.

"Good grief, have you put anything away since you got home?"

Papers and pamphlets covered the coffee table, and six months' worth of junk mail erupted from the top of the trash can. She figured he was using the living room as a temporary office because the room he used as a study was already crammed with books, papers and files.

"You need a maid."

"Volunteering?"

"Not on your life," she retorted. "I remember how you nearly ripped my head off when I was twelve and I tried to clean off that desk you and Nathan used to share."

"Don't go there, Kelsey. You purposely threw out a lot of my mail. And you tossed one of Nathan's songs."

"Well," she admitted, "I was getting a little sick of you rereading those notes from Melanie Thompson. And the day Nathan actually learns to play the guitar and write music will be the day I sprout wings and fly home."

"Thank goodness he gave up on that," Mitch agreed with a grin.

Kelsey returned the bright smile, thinking how unfair it was for a man to have those gorgeous dimples and sensual lips. She walked past him as he held open the door to the foyer with his foot.

Mitch walked up the steep wooden stairs right behind Kelsey. Watching her walk in tight jeans was a joy any man would want to behold, and he enjoyed every moment of it. He found himself wondering once again when she had filled out so beautifully. Before he thought better of it, he asked her. "Kelsey, when exactly did you change?"

She laughed lightly. "I haven't changed, Mitch. I'm still the rotten little teaser I was all those years ago. I've just learned some self-control."

"I meant physically."

She raised an eyebrow. "You mean, when did I fill out?"

Mitch nodded. He really didn't know why he'd asked her-it seemed stupid to come right out and admit to her that he'd noticed her looks. The woman was already too confident. "You're...so different than you were."

"I'm a late bloomer, I guess. Mom said she was the same way and she kept promising me that one day I'd wake up and not look like a Popsicle stick with a head on it. She was right."

She most certainly was. Kelsey was curvy and feminine, soft and supple. He found himself thinking about how perfectly their bodies would fit together, but realized he could get totally lost if he let his mind travel down that road. And the fact that he was having these thoughts about little Kelsey Logan made them even worse!

"Anyway, I realized I had 'arrived' when I was a soph.o.m.ore in college and was out running. The captain of the football team ran into a goalpost when I went by. I didn't know why until my friends told me it was because he was staring at me."

"What did you do?" he asked. "Reenact the whole humiliating event for your dorm that night?"

Kelsey frowned. "I wasn't a ten-year-old anymore, Mitch."

"I'm sorry," he admitted, knowing he'd offended her. "I'm sure you didn't laugh at him."

She shook her head. "I should say not. The poor guy ended up with a dislocated shoulder. I felt so bad I went out with him several times, and we had absolutely nothing in common."

"Poor thing," he murmured, "going from plain-Jane to queen of the prom overnight, and forced to go on several dates with the captain of the college football team."

"Well," she laughed, "I guess it wasn't so bad at that."

Mitch looked around her apartment as they entered. He hadn't seen it since she had moved in and had to admit it looked great. Kelsey's talent with plants was evidenced by the amount of greenery, and pictures of her family were everywhere. He paused to look at the latest photos of her parents, trying to remember how long it had been since he'd seen them.

A wicker patio set stood in a sunny corner by the rear bay window, and he walked around it to glance outside. "No wonder you work in the yard so much. You have the best view in the house."

Kelsey moved next to him. "You have to admit, I did a good job. Aren't you glad I took the initiative?"

"You always do. Jump first, look later," he said steadily.

"Like you used to." She dared him to deny it. He didn't try.

They fell silent and Kelsey suddenly realized just how close together they'd been standing. She s.h.i.+vered a little as his arm brushed her shoulder. She could feel his breath on her hair, and she finally looked up into his sculpted face. He wasn't looking out the window anymore. Instead he stared at her intently.

A thick, dark lock of hair hung down on Mitch's forehead. Unable to resist, Kelsey reached up to brush it with the back of her hand. She couldn't seem to pull her fingers away. The moment stretched as Kelsey stared into his blue eyes. He had dark, sooty lashes that were too long for a man, and his lids lowered slightly as his gaze dropped to study her lips. She sensed he was thinking of kissing her. Kelsey wanted him to-at that moment, she was dying for him to-but he didn't.

Mitch drew in a ragged breath. Expectation filled the air, fueled by the unexpected touch of Kelsey's soft hand. A rush of excitement surged in his chest, until he remembered whose soft, feminine, sweet-smelling body he was reacting to. He stepped back and walked to the door.

"Mitch?"

He stopped with his hand on the k.n.o.b but didn't turn around.

"Thank you for your help," she said softly.

"You're welcome, Kelsey."

3.

A FEW HOURS LATER FEW HOURS LATER, Mitch still wondered how he could possibly even have contemplated kissing Kelsey. What if he had given in to his impulse and done it? Considering how much he'd been thinking about her, and how his body responded every time she was in the same room, he imagined they'd have spent the entire afternoon in bed.

Mitch indulged himself, imagining for a few seconds the intense pleasure they could give each other. Then he forced the mental pictures away. Because that was never going to happen.

It wasn't just that she was Nate's sister. And it wasn't just that she'd terrorized him for several years. Mitch had known since he was seventeen that Kelsey delighted in tormenting him because she had a crush on him. But he'd never let on that he knew. She'd basically been a cute kid, in spite of her brattiness, and he'd never have humiliated her or denigrated her feelings. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one in the family who'd noticed how little Kelsey felt.

Mitch would never forget the conversation he overheard one evening many years before in the Logans' house. He'd come home early from basketball practice. Marge and Ralph had been sitting with Aunt Betsy, Marge's older sister, who was the nosiest, nastiest busybody he'd ever known. None of the adults in the kitchen had heard him come in the front door.

Mitch could still hear every word of that long-ago conversation.