Читать книгу Fairy-Tale Family - Pat Montana - Страница 10

Chapter One

“Someone’s sleeping in my bed!”

Mitchell Kole squinted one eye open long enough to stop the ridiculous dream, the childlike voice that sounded a lot like Goldilocks accompanied by the distinct scent of peanut butter. He didn’t even like peanut butter.

Scrunching his eyes shut, he tugged the sheet up around his ears. Not Goldilocks. Just a very little girl with flyaway brown hair standing by the side of his bed in a pink tutu.

“What the...?” In one swift motion, he shoved up to a sitting position.

The child scurried to the foot of the double bed, her tutu bouncing like a tugboat in choppy waters. Leaning forward, she rested her elbows in the folds of the bright comforter, cupped her chin in the heels of her hands and stared back at him. The tutu popped up behind her like a limp peacock’s tail.

She couldn’t be more than—what? Three...four years old? What did he know about kids’ ages? Her fingernails, he noticed irrelevantly, glowed a bright green.

What the hell was a kid with green fingernails doing in his room? What was any kid doing here? He didn’t even like kids.

“Hello.” She studied him curiously, her big brown eyes framed by dark lashes. “I’m Seraphina. You’re sleeping in my bed. I slept with Bubba Sue last night.”

“I’m sleeping in your—?” Mitch stopped himself midoutburst, suddenly aware that everything around him looked...different. He hadn’t bothered to turn on a light last night after coming in so late. Too upset from his visit at the hospital. Incredibly none of the changes in the room had tripped him up in the dark.

“That’s my dollhouse.”

The kid pointed to a strange accumulation of stacked cardboard boxes filling the space next to the door where his electronic keyboard used to sit. Each box was decorated like a tiny room. They were all painted a headache-inducing shade of pink. Mitch resisted the urge to shade his eyes.

“Those are my animals.”

This time she pointed beneath the window where he’d kept his treasured first ski poles. A faded yellow tiger with one ear missing sat there now next to a teddy bear who looked as if he had the mange. Both of them hunkered down in a pile of crumpled tissue-paper flowers.

The kid must have decided he didn’t need help with the rest of the room, because she watched him silently while he took inventory. His Ski Aspen, Ski Vail posters were missing from the walls, replaced with pictures of figures he vaguely recognized as some of the new Disney characters. And the bed he lay on was afloat in more of the same. He had never slept in sheets covered with mermaids!

“Your room?” he mumbled, scraping a palm up the bristles on his cheek. Somewhere in the distance, children’s shouts overrode the steady chatter of morning TV cartoons. He dragged fingers back through his hair, struggling to get awake, searching to make some kind of sense of all of this...this mayhem. Through it all he caught the rich aroma of coffee.

Thank god. Evidence of adult-type beings. What were kids doing in his father’s place anyhow? Living here, from the looks of this room. What the devil was going on?

The little girl straightened. With a gesture that reminded him of a queen, she swept her thin bangs to one side.

“My name means angel,” she offered, as if she’d read his mind. “But really I’m a princess.” She studied him from the foot of the bed with those grave brown eyes.

She looked more like a waif. She was about as skinny as a puppet, and her mouse brown hair stuck out in feathery wisps from a pink thing on top of her head. On closer inspection, he saw that the netting of her tutu drooped, and the straps across her thin little shoulders had shed most of their shiny stuff.

Mitch eyed her warily. For a princess, this kid’s treasures looked mighty tattered. But she didn’t seem to know. She acted as self-assured and expectant as any royalty he’d ever entertained.

In spite of his growing annoyance, Mitch allowed himself a half smile. Such seriousness in one so little. Seemed to him that a kid her size ought to be giggling about something, not looking as if she carried the weight of a kingdom on her shoulders.

But what did he know about kids? Or care?

Grabbing the edge of the sheet, he held it against his bare middle and slid to the side of the bed. He hadn’t come all the way back to Missouri to be stalled by a little squirt’s solemn face. He had business to take care of. And a plane to catch back to Colorado this evening.

He’d told Jack he would be back in Winterhaven in two days—Jack Winter who’d taken him in when he’d been an angry, scared runaway of almost seventeen. Jack had given him a place to stay, a job. His wife, Josey, had given him the courage to call King and tell him where he’d run. Over the years, Jack had become his mentor—and his friend. Mitch wasn’t about to let him down.

So... Still clutching the sheet, Mitch swung his feet to the floor. One thing he’d learned teaching skiing at the Lodge: where there was a princess, there was bound to be a king or a queen. He needed to seek a royal audience pronto. Whoever was living with his father could be the answer to his problem.

“Okay, Princess, I’m...Mr. Kole, and I’d like to get up now so—”

“I know. You’re The Prince.”

“Seri? Where are you? You’d better not be bothering Mr. Kole.”

Hell. Mitch pulled the sheet of redheaded mermaids a little higher around him. If he remembered his fairy tales, princesses weren’t supposed to catch The Prince in bed naked.

“Seri, I told you not to—” A woman appeared in the doorway. “Oh...” At the sight of him her eyes widened.

Mitch watched color rosy the woman’s cheeks. Things were taking a decided turn for the better.

There could be no mistaking Seraphina’s mother. This woman promised everything the funny little princess would someday become. The kid was skinny, but her mother—now here was pleasure to behold. The kind of woman the word “petite” must have been invented for, with feathery hair the color of light ale brushing her shoulders when she moved.

In spite of her size, she acted about as regal as the kid. Even in that long, shapeless dress, and that brown sweater—which had to be a hand-me-down from her grandfather—she still didn’t manage to hide a figure that was...lush. It was the only other word Mitch could think of. Or wanted to.

Until he looked into her eyes. They were blue, the blue of Colorado skies. Of columbine flowers. Of deep, cool mountain lakes.

Or an Alaskan glacier. He tugged the sheets closer.

None of her daughter’s studious curiosity there. Instead he found wariness—and other feelings he recognized. Anger. Resentment.

She studied him as if he were some form of outer space alien, a very stupid alien who had witlessly landed in her daughter’s bed. A state of affairs she definitely didn’t approve.

“Go on now, Seri. To the kitchen.” She shooed the girl out the door.

Given the same circumstances in his bedroom at Winterhaven, Mitch would have stretched into a slow, sensuous yawn, given the woman a provocative grin...and stood up. But something about this woman made him hesitate.

Her gaze came to a halt at the fistful of sheet he held against his stomach. Her eyes thawed just a bit. Her honey-colored brows ticked upward.

Fascinated, he watched a corner of her pale pink mouth curve ever so slightly. To his dismay, he felt himself respond. Clearly this was a woman he couldn’t unnerve, not even with the threat of six feet of buck nakedness. The thought pleased him.

“Did not!”

“Did, too! Mo-om!” Crash!

A dog barked.

Mitch winced.

The woman didn’t even flinch, but her gaze refrosted. “Your father didn’t tell you about us, did he?”

Obviously a rhetorical question, because she spun out of the doorway before he could decide between a bitter laugh and a fierce growl. He hadn’t come here to get turned on by a little bit of a woman, a woman who was apparently living with his father!

Flinging the sheet aside, he slammed his feet to the floor. Just then the kid popped into the room. Mitch lunged back under the concealing mermaids.

“Seri?” The woman reappeared in the doorway. One glance and she grabbed the kid and ushered her toward the door.

“But, Mommy—”

“Let Mr. Kole get dressed.”

They disappeared together, but not before Mitch could check her hand. The woman wasn’t wearing a ring. The discovery left him teetering between a definite upswing in mood—and pure raw anger.

“Wait! Miss... Ms....” How was it she already had him analyzed and categorized while he hadn’t even known she existed? His frustration level shot skyward. “Hey, lady, who are you?” he shouted. He didn’t like being out of control. He didn’t like being so...perturbed by such a...woman.

She reappeared in the doorway. The kid peeked from behind her legs.

“Sander. Ellie. I’m the one who called about your father’s accident.”

There was that resentment again. That anger.

“I told him we didn’t need to bother you, but he insisted.”

Mitch scowled into Ellie Sander’s rejecting azure eyes. Damn it, she did bother him. She bothered him a lot.

“There’s breakfast in the kitchen,” she announced flatly, then swung out of the room, her hair fanning her shoulders like a silk skirt.

“Just coffee,” he shouted after her. “I don’t do breakfast.”

Damn! He didn’t need to growl just because there were still old issues between him and his father. He especially didn’t need to watch her retreat—just because he liked the way she moved. He didn’t have time for—

For anything. He’d done his duty; he’d flown to his father’s deathbed. But when Ellie Sander had called, she’d failed to give him one minor detail. Old “King” Kole wasn’t dying.

Last night at the hospital, Mitch had discovered that King was only temporarily inconvenienced—by a cast on one ankle and another all the way up his other leg. And a headache the size of Mount Rushmore. Which he undoubtedly deserved.

Shoving back the sheet, Mitch tugged into his briefs and stalked down the hall to the bathroom, defying an encounter with more princesses along the way.

He’d go see his father—one more time. He’d make arrangements with the hospital for a visiting nurse. He’d contact a temp agency for someone to help run the store. He’d arrange for whatever his father and this woman needed till King was on his feet again. But Mitch wasn’t going to stay.

His father had never been there for him when he was growing up. He hadn’t been there for his mother when she’d needed him. King had set the example; for once Mitch figured he’d be justified in following it.

But he would be nice to this Ellie Sander, whoever she was. Why such a pretty, pint-size woman like her would move in with his father—?

“Ouch!” He muffled an oath and gave the bathroom door another, more careful kick. Hell, she was clearly strong-willed enough to live with the old man. Which was good, he lectured himself. Because living with his father was exactly what Mitch wanted her to keep right on doing.

Ellie knew the minute Mitch Kole stepped into the kitchen. Even with her back to the door, she could feel his presence, could smell the faint, outdoor scent that slipped into her awareness right through the aroma of pancakes and coffee.

The same way he’d managed to slip into the apartment last night. Thank goodness she’d been downstairs in the store. For once she was even glad Seri had crawled in with the dog.

If Mitch Kole had arrived after Seri and she had fallen asleep in the double bed—? She hated to imagine. Her screams would have sent him scrambling back to Colorado in his Jockeys—if the man even slept in shorts. From the death grip he’d held on the mermaid sheets, Ellie suspected he did not.

The memory of his discomfort gave her a vengeful sense of satisfaction. It also made her warm. And disturbed.

But from what she knew of Mitch Kole, she wouldn’t need screams to get rid of him.

Refusing to look at him, Ellie moved the portable phone away from Rafe and set plates of bear-faced pancakes in front of him and his sister, both of them seated on stools at the counter.

“Eat up, kids. I have to open the store in fifteen minutes.”

“Wonder if I could talk you out of a cup of coffee?”

She forced herself to look up at Mitch then. Right away she knew she’d made her second big mistake of the morning, ranking right up there with walking in on him in bed.

He was dressed now, but what undid her wasn’t the way his jeans hugged his ski-tightened thighs nor the way his damp hair curled along the edge of his navy turtleneck. It was his smile. His smile made her feel the same way she had last night when she’d watched him sleep. Warm...and wanting.

Darn! She knew that smile—the carefree grin of a charming, persuasive man. She watched it warm his sapphire eyes and deepen the lines around his broad mouth. His teeth shone startlingly white against his ruddy tan. The effect was breathtaking.

Ellie frowned. She’d given up breathtaking years ago. Along with a lot of other things—like teasing smiles and exciting promises. And when the kids had started coming, she’d given up dreams of a close-knit family...and a home...and security...

But she’d learned—oh yes, she’d learned. And she had no doubts that a charming ski instructor, like a charming musician, was not breathtaking. At least not for long. In the real world, there were no Prince Charmings.

“Sugar? Milk? We only have skim.”

“Mommy, The Prince wants bearcakes.”

Mitch stepped forward. “Coffee’ll do. Don’t know if I could handle bearcakes.” He smiled down at Seri.

Ellie reached into the glass-doored cupboard for a mug, fighting the melting feeling inside, tightening her defenses.

“Gabe? Michael? Time to eat.” Come on, guys. Please show up—fast.

Sometimes four kids almost overwhelmed her, but when she gathered them around her and looked into their trusting faces, they always gave her strength. Which was what she needed now. King hadn’t told her his son was attractive. He hadn’t said Mitch had this...appeal! Intuitively, she knew it put them all in danger.

To her relief, Gabe shuffled in from the living room. When he saw Mitch, he stopped.

She watched the two males size each other up, could almost see the hair rise on Gabe’s neck as Mitch smiled at him.

Good She didn’t want her kids snagged by Mitch’s charm.

Gabe resumed his trek to the end of the counter, his blue eyes filled with uncertain apology, his golden mop of curls almost level with her head.

“I’m sorry we were arguing, Mom,” he mumbled.

“Here.” He handed her a slightly tattered tissue-paper carnation. Head turned away, he leaned stiffly into her hug.

Pride, and a huge dose of regret, shot through her. In another year she’d be looking up at him.

“Hey!” Michael trotted into the kitchen followed by the dog. “Hey, hi! You must be King’s son. Know what? He told us you were coming. Can I ask you something? Will you teach us how to ski? Wanna see my fast feet?”

“Michael...”

He grinned that two-teeth-missing smile she loved so much and met her at the end of the counter, extending his own offering, half-crushed in his hand. Another paper flower, this one pale green and newly constructed.

“Sorry, Mom. I just wanted to—”

Ellie quieted him with a hug, allowing herself the impulse of wanting to protect him. It gave way quickly to the joy of wrapping her arms around his slender body and breathing in his little boy scent of hard play. Michael was as lean and full of energy as Gabe was solid and steady. She needed what she could draw from them both.

But she also knew when to let go. Before Michael could protest, she pulled away, tickling and poking. “Ooh, cooties.”

Michael giggled, and Ellie breathed a slow sigh of relief. Her sons had come to apologize. Michael had made a new “I love you” flower exactly the way she’d taught all of her children on their fourth birthday. And—blessed relief—for the moment Michael had stopped talking.

“Thank you, boys. I love you, too. Love you all.” She smiled at her brood of angels and felt a surge of strength. She would never let anything happen to them again. They had finally found a home and a bit of stability... at least for a while. She wouldn’t let Mitch Kole threaten their future.

“Climb up, guys. Time for bearcakes.”

She laid the two paper flowers on top of the others in the shallow basket on the counter, cherishing this bouquet of love from her children. Then she lifted more plates from the overhead cupboard and filled them with bear-faced pancakes, adding lots of butter and syrup.

Stalling again.

She had to convince Mitch Kole to go back to Colorado. He’d made it clear that he hadn’t wanted to come in the first place, so the task shouldn’t be too difficult. Gathering courage, she set the plates in front of her sons.

“Eat up. guys.”

“S‘pose I could get that cup of coffee now?”

“Coffee—?” Omigod. She’d completely forgotten. Rattled by another of Mitch’s breathtaking smiles, she poured the mug too full. Steamy brown liquid sloshed onto the counter.

Mitch lifted the mug, and she swiped away the puddle with a cloth, ignoring the inquiring rise of his dark brows. He was watching her too closely. She recognized that look. Once Peter had watched her like that, when she’d been young and rebellious and smitten with his promises. Before they’d had children.

Peter had made her giddy, the way only an eighteen-year-old could feel. Mitch’s regard stirred something else, something that made her nervous and selfconscious and short of breath. Something that made her spill coffee and made her heart race. Whatever it was, she knew she had reason to be alarmed.

King had told her Mitch wasn’t a family kind of man. She’d already known that kind of man.

“These are my children, Mr. Kole.” She presented them to him with a wave of her hand, her protectors, her talismans against whatever weakness it was in her that Mitch’s charm touched. She was well aware that four children under the age of ten would ward off just about any kind of man.

He continued to watch her too closely, with just a shadow of a smile. “Call me Mitch.”

Ellie regrouped her defenses. “This is Gabe, my oldest. He’s ten. Michael’s going on nine. Rafe just turned six....” Pride filled her as each of the boys offered a reluctant hand “...and you’ve met Seraphina.”

“I’m four years old and two months,” Seri piped up, holding up four fingers. “We’re The Angels,” she added. “Gabriel, Michael, Raphael and—”

“Seri!” Instantly Ellie regretted her sharpness.

“We used to be The Angels,” Seri said softly. “Before...”

Ellie’s throat tightened with contrition. “Sweetheart, I’m sure Mr. Kole isn’t interested—”

“Oh, but I am.” He eased onto the empty stool beside Seri. “You’ll call me Mitch, won’t you, Princess?”

she nodded eagerly.

“Good. Then tell me, who’s Bubba Sue?”

“Don’t you know? Bubba Sue’s King’s dog.”

“King’s dog? Well, I’ll be a—” He looked down at the little dog curled up under the stools. “I’m surprised her name’s not Queeny.”

Seri giggled.

With a sinking heart, Ellie watched her wide-eyed daughter warm to Mitch. In spite of Peter’s haphazard fathering, Seri missed her daddy. Ellie didn’t want her daughter filling his absence with Mitch’s easy appeal. She didn’t want her hurt all over again.

Like mother, like daughter—both suckers for those Prince Charming types. Ellie would have to teach Seri better. Right after she convinced Mitch Kole to leave.

“Hey, Mom, it’s five past nine.”

Gabe’s too-grown-up voice interrupted her worries. Almost gratefully, she grabbed at the safety of routine.

“Okay, kids, Saturday morning schedule. Michael, kitchen, Rafe, bathrooms, Seri, beds. Gabe, I need you in the store to move boxes. If anybody needs anything, remember the bell.”

She hurried to the stairs leading to the shop below, glancing back for one last check. Burners off, pan in the sink, nothing harmful left untended.

Except Mitch Kole.

“We have things under control here, Mr. Kole. You can go visit your father right away. I’m sure he’ll be glad you came. Please tell him we’ll be there this evening.”

Mitch’s watchful gaze sent her backing down the stairs. “I—uh—guess we won’t see you again, so I hope you have a very nice life in Colorado.” She marched down three more stairs. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have things to—”

The telephone made her stop. Through the stair railing, she watched Rafe snatch the ringing phone from the counter.

He punched it on. “Daddy? Oh.” The hope in his dark eyes faded quickly. “Yeah. Yeah. Okay.” Dejectedly he punched the Off button.

Ellie’s heart ached for her son. She had to make Rafe give up that phone—soon. “Who was it, sweetheart? What did they want? You should have let me talk.”

“It’s okay, Mom. It was just King. He said...he’ll bring him home from the hospital.” He pointed at Mitch.

Ellie lurched back up the stairs. “Home? Did he say when?”

“Um...yeah.” Rafe laid the phone back on the counter. “I think he said...tomorrow.”

Mitch stood outside the doorway to his father’s narrow room staring at the high, four-poster bed his mother had loved, trying to ignore the memories. Now was not the time to brood over the past. He had a problem to solve here.

“I thought you’d be at the hospital by now.”

Somehow he managed not to turn, though he couldn’t mistake Ellie’s voice. Or her challenge. “I didn’t expect you back from the store so soon.” He sure as hell didn’t want to see her again now. Especially not here.

“The high school kid who works weekends came in early.”

Hell, Ellie practically looked like a high school kid herself. Too young to have four kids. Too damned young to be living with—No. He shoved down the anger. Her relationship with his father was none of his business.

“I thought I’d check the place out first, get an idea of what King will need.”

“That’s what I tried to tell you at breakfast.” Without looking up at him, she brushed past and into the room. “You can go back to Colorado right away. We’ll take care of King.”

He should be glad she was avoiding him. But heaven help him, he wanted to look into those blue eyes. “You can’t take care of him by yourself.”

She still wouldn’t look at him. “Yes, I can. The kids and I can take perfectly good care of him.”

“There’s hardly space in this room for one person to move around. He won’t be able to get in and out of that bed.”

Ellie pulled herself to her full height and turned to frown at him. “We can help him.”

“We? Who else are you planning to move in here? Ellie, good intentions aren’t enough. You’re too small, and your kids are...well. they’re just kids.” Mitch couldn’t decide which was worse, standing here fighting over King’s care, or fighting his attraction to the woman who slept with him.

Especially when she was so damned valiant. When her lips looked so full and determined. When the top of her head would barely reach his chin even if she tipped her face up to—Why, a man would almost have to pick her up to...

Ellie stepped back. “Why are you trying to intimidate me, Mr. Kole?”

A damn good question. Except that his anger wasn’t intimidation, it was self-defense. Because what he really wanted was to kiss her. A most unwise impulse. But then, when had his impulses ever been wise?

“Look, just call me Mitch, okay?”

He saw her back stiffen, her own defenses go up another notch. His anger just kind of collapsed. “Come on, Ellie, call me Rumpelstiltskin if you want, but give Mr. Kole a rest.” To his surprise, her eyes warmed—just a little—as they did when she teased her kids.

“Okay. Mitch. So why don’t you want us to take care of your father?”

“Oh, but I do. I just don’t see how.”

“Look, I’ve already figured that out, so you don’t need to waste your time.”

Not so much a waste of time as a waste of emotion. This place stirred too many memories, but the feelings Ellie stirred were far worse. Especially since he had no intentions of doing anything about them. Especially under the circumstances.

“Look, correct me if I’m wrong, but I’d guess my father weighs about a hundred and eighty pounds—dripping wet. Without casts. There’s no way he can get around in here with them.”

She fixed him with a firm gaze that clearly said, Get out of my way, and marched toward the doorway. “We’ll move him into the dormitory.”

“The dormitory?” He slouched against the frame, not wanting her to go.

She slowed to a stop. “If you’ll move, I’ll show you.”

Unwillingly he stepped back, bowing slightly.

She moved carefully, turning sideways to keep from brushing against him. She trailed a fragrance that was clean and fresh.

How could he resist? How could he let her go without stealing just one sweet brush of those half-opened lips? The thought of her softness against him sent heat humming through his veins. Raising an arm, he blocked the doorway.

Her blue eyes widened with uncertainty. “Um, the dormitory? I think...when you lived here...you called it—” Her voice caught.

“The Jam Room?” he murmured, leaning toward her.

Almost imperceptibly she turned her face up to him. “Yes. The Jam Room,” she whispered. Then she froze.

“No!” She jerked away. “I mean, yes! The Jam Room.” Before he could stop her, she ducked under his arm and disappeared down the hall.

Damn! What had he been thinking? He needed to get King’s arrangements made and get out of here. His pulse still hammering, he followed reluctantly through the small kitchen and down the hall of the second flat.

She hurried across the hardwood floor of the long, rectangular room at the end. Keeping distance between them. A whole lot smarter than he was.

“The boys sleep in here now.” Nervously she smoothed the plain, unmatched bedspreads on the three twin beds lined up under the back windows.

He tried to ignore her caring gesture. But her touch was everywhere—in the football and race car posters on the walls, in the plastic basketful of balls and dinosaurs and action figures. In the string of paper flowers hanging above the head of each bed.

The Jam Room—where King Kole and his Merry Men had practiced those rare times when his band hadn’t been out on a gig. His father had been gone more than he’d ever been home. Gone when a family really needed him. A lot of things besides this room had changed since then.

“We’ll put King in Rafe’s bed—the one by the big bathroom. Rafe can sleep with Seri.”

“What about you?”

She seemed to pull farther away from him, hugging herself until she was almost lost in the bulkiness of her brown sweater. A businesslike frown darkened her eyes.

“You’re right. I’ll move Seri and Rafe into King’s room. I should be near to help Gabe and Michael with him at night. I’ll stay where I am.”

“Where you are?”

“With the mermaids.”

For an instant, he thought she was teasing. He watched with growing regret as the possibility faded and understanding crept into her face.

“You thought—?” Her eyes narrowed, chilling again to Arctic frost. “You thought I slept with... and yet you tried to—? I sleep with my daughter, Mr. Kole, not with your father.”

Her shoes snapped like gunshots on the wooden floor. “Your father offered me a job and a place for my kids when I was pretty desperate.” She descended on him from across the room. “I suspect it was because he was lonely. Because he doesn’t have much family of his own.”

Mitch actually felt himself flinch. What was going on here? His father had always cared more about his music than anything else. More than his family.

Ellie stopped right under his nose and glared up at him. “When you see King, why don’t you tell him what you thought about me. Only a man like you would think such a thing. I’m sure he could use a good laugh.” She swept by him, disappearing through the door.

A man like him? Mitch knew what he was. Too much like his father for anyone’s damn good. But at least he would never lose a wife the way his father had. He would never lose a kid. An unmarried man made no promises to break.

So why did Ellie’s words sting?

“You sleep with your daughter?” he mumbled after her, unable to muster a heartfelt shout. Last night, in the dark, he’d climbed into bed with Seri’s mermaids—naked. Where had Ellie been then?

Worse, what if she had been there?

And why was she sharing a bed with a restless little four-year-old instead of with his father?

More to the point, no matter where Ellie slept, why the hell did he care?