Читать книгу Her Forbidden Bridegroom - Susan Fox, Susan Fox P. - Страница 9

LORNA slept in that next morning to make up for her lost sleep. After a late breakfast of cold pizza, she started a load of laundry in the small washer in an alcove of her bathroom. Frustrated that Mitch dominated her thoughts, she threw herself into her Saturday chores before she left the apartment to run errands.

She dropped off clothes at the dry cleaners and picked up the batch she’d left there the Saturday before. A fast trip to Wal-Mart was followed by another to her favorite grocery store to take care of the shopping she’d not had time for on her way home last night. It was midafternoon when she got home.

Living alone and having to carry everything across the mostly full parking lot and up a flight of stairs in one trip was a challenge that was also part of Lorna’s normal routine.

After draping her dry cleaning over her arm and carefully gathering up the handles to the various plastic bags that contained her purchases, she made her way across the sun-scorched parking lot to the back door of the building. She’d reached the sidewalk when a big man came around the corner and strode purposely toward her.

Mitch Ellery was dressed like a real cowboy in a blue plaid shirt and denim jeans worn soft. The black Stetson he wore had a more common look than his pearl-gray one, and the black boots he had on today carried the scuff marks of daily wear.

From the stern line of his harsh mouth and the faint scowl that darkened his gaze beneath the hat brim, he looked like he meant business. If he’d been wearing a six-shooter, the black Stetson combined with his tough-guy ruggedness would have made him look like an Old West outlaw.

His dark eyes showed a gleam of disapproval. “You gotta lazy man’s load,” he said bluntly as he smoothly relieved her of everything but the dry cleaning.

Lorna’s quick move to snatch back the bags was quelled by his curt, “I’ve got ’em.”

“I haven’t invited you in, Mr. Ellery. Nor do I plan to.” She gave him a stiff smile as she again reached to hook her fingers through the handles of the plastic bags to reclaim them. “But thanks for the show of chivalry.”

The minute her fingers were laced through the handles, Mitch shifted his grip, managing to neatly trap them. Tiny shocks radiated from his firm hold and her wide gaze flashed up to the glittering darkness in his.

“We can either stand here the rest of the afternoon, or you can invite me in,” he growled.

“We have nothing to say to each other, so there’s no reason to invite you to do anything but leave.” Lorna straightened her fingers to tug them free of the bag handles, but Mitch’s grip was too strong.

“You and I need to talk.”

His expression was grim and Lorna sensed a new threat. “The only thing I want to hear from you is the date and time for the blood test.”

“You’ll hear from me Monday about that. Right now, we’ve got a new problem.”

Lorna did her best to appear unimpressed. She heard his frustration with her when he added darkly, “It’s about Kendra.”

As if he knew she’d cave in at the mention of Kendra and a problem, he loosened his grip on her fingers. Lorna pulled free. “What about Kendra? Nothing’s happened, has it?”

Now his harsh look eased fractionally. “No problem beyond a damned fool idea that involves you. Which is why we’ll have a talk. Now.”

Relieved Kendra was all right, Lorna decided that she’d had enough of his dictates.

“Listen, Mr. Ellery. You might give orders at your ranch, but you aren’t allowed to rule the world. Whether you have a particle of respect for me or not, you’ll at least go through the verbal motions of good manners or you’ll be invited to go straight to hell.”

The faint shock that showed on his face for a space of a second was wiped away by a mighty frown. He hadn’t expected her to stand up to him and he clearly didn’t like it. She’d never in her life spoken to anyone like that, but something in his autocratic manner warned that she’d better learn to or he’d run over her without a second thought.

His expression went stony. The time it took him to swallow his pride and make an effort to frame a proper request seemed insultingly long.

Which sent her temper soaring. “You can either sit my bags on the sidewalk for someone else or you can keep them.”

She turned then and dug her key out of her pocket. Since his hostage takeover of her purchases wouldn’t work on her, he could decide if he liked the food and the toothpaste and toiletries from Wal-Mart enough to be stuck with them. Hopefully he’d just put down the bags and leave.

“Miss Farrell.” His voice was low, and Lorna stopped to glance back. “You must think I’ve got the manners of a…”

He paused to search her flushed face, as if trying to gauge how far he needed to humble himself. She raised a dark brow and he finished on a growl.

“…a pig.”

Stifling a surprised laugh, Lorna came right back with, “If you have any evidence to disprove that, you’d better speak up quick.”

Again he seemed to hesitate, but then he spoke, the words coming out as tonelessly as if he were reading them off a cue card.

“My apologies, Miz Farrell. Would you please consider inviting me inside to discuss a new problem?”

Lorna felt her anger cool, but she was wary of letting him in. “You’ll behave?”

“I surely will.” His swift answer was proof that he could barely contain his impatience to have the discussion.

The notion that this big bull of a man was knuckling under to her demand for good manners—even if it was difficult for him—made her feel a small bit of power.

Though common sense told her this was only an illusion of cooperation, the secret part of her that had never truly felt valuable or particularly powerful gobbled it up.

“All right. We’ll see how things go. But I should warn you that I’ve got a black belt in screaming down apartment buildings.”

It was meant to lighten things between them, but neither of them smiled. She’d already got the impression that Mitch didn’t smile often.

But perhaps the biggest reason neither of them smiled was because they both recognized that her lighthearted remark was an expression of fear and mistrust. Fear and mistrust leached the humor out of most things, at least in her life.

Lorna turned back to the door to unlock it, and Mitch followed her in. They walked up the stairs then down the hall to her apartment in silence. As she’d done downstairs, she held the door open for him as he carried her bags in. He took her purchases to the kitchen while she carried her dry cleaning and handbag to her bedroom to put away. By the time she joined Mitch in the kitchen, he was unloading groceries onto the counter.

Her, “Thank you,” were the only words between them until she’d put everything away and disposed of the empty bags. She left the things from Wal-Mart for later, then turned to him and clasped her hands together. She glanced up at his Stetson, so he obliged her silent reminder and took it off.

“Would I again be wasting good manners if I asked what you’d like to drink? The choices are still a soda or coffee. Or a glass of water.”

Mitch couldn’t seem to keep his gaze from eating her up. Lorna’s delectably curved body was virtually perfect. The white cotton blouse she wore over her most interesting curves was still crisp despite the heat, and her jeans carried a crease that let him know she ironed them. As a man who was too macho to wear jeans with a persnickety crease, the feminine fussiness of that tickled him. The plain sandals on her pretty feet revealed neatly clipped toenails painted a soft pink. He’d never been particularly attracted to a woman’s feet before, but Lorna’s were almost as touchable looking as the rest of her.