Wish on the Moon (9 page)

Laura parked next to Nora. "You want to feel
like you make a difference."

Nora's blue eyes found Laura's.
"Exactly."

Laura was puzzled. "But why did you want to
talk to me about this?"

"Because I like taking care of Mandy and I
think she's already fond of me. What are you going to do with her
when you're helping at the store?"

Laura finally understood Nora's earnestness
and what she had in mind. "Truthfully, I haven't thought about it.
I don't want to put her in day care." To find out exactly what Nora
was thinking, she added, "I guess I could take her with me."

"The poor little tyke will get so bored,"
Nora blurted out. "Let me stay here and take care of her. I can
cook the meals and take care of details so you can keep your mind
on your dad and the store and have time for Mandy when you get
home." She rushed on. "Have you thought about what you're going to
do when Ray comes home? Someone will have to stay with him for a
while. If I'm here with Mandy, I can look after both of them."

Laura leaned against the sofa back. "Do you
know what you're thinking about? Taking care of a four-year-old is
hard enough, but Dad could be very demanding."

"He just needs some tender loving care."
Quickly, she added, "Not that you can't give it to him, of
course."

Nora's cheeks were pink, her eyes bright.
Laura smiled. Did Nora have an interest in Ray? If so, did Mitch
know? "So you'd like to stay here and take on the monumental job of
taking care of all of us?"

"Yes, I'd like to do that."

"Does Mitch know about this?" He could be one
very tall obstacle, though she didn't believe Mitch could refuse
his mother anything.

"No. I wanted to talk to you first."

How would Mitch feel about his mother working
for Ray Applegate? "When Dad's feeling better, I'll have to ask him
what he's willing to pay."

Nora held up her hand like a stop sign. "No,
I don't want money. I've offered--"

"If we can't pay you, we can't accept your
help." Laura was sure her father would feel the same way.

Nora looked indecisive, but only for a
moment. "All right. But whatever you and Ray decide will be
fine."

Laura patted the older woman's hand. "It's a
deal. But I'm going to disappear while you tell Mitch. Mandy and I
will go upstairs to call our friends in Ohio, then I'll read to her
for a while."

Nora rose with a broad smile. "What time
would you like breakfast tomorrow?"

Laura chuckled. "This is going to take
getting used to. I'll help you as much as I can."

"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."