A Man Not Her Own Read online

  Sarah inhaled his scent, lost herself in his warm dark eyes. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?”

  Mitch’s grin set her heart to thumping wildly. “I have a vivid imagination. Where’s your purse?”

  She pointed to the door. “Over there on the floor.”

  “Gotcha.” But he didn’t walk toward the door. Instead, Mitch walked over to the camera sitting on a tripod and looked into the eyepiece. He adjusted the settings, then retrieved Sarah’s purse and handed it to her. “Give me your brush. And your lipstick.”

  “O-kay.” She couldn’t decide if he was into kinky or just into the lessons; however, she trusted him and was already halfway in love with him. The determination in those coffee-colored eyes combined with the little flickers of desire made her blush as she dug in her purse for the brush and lipstick.

  Mitch smiled and took them from her, setting the purse to one side. “Now we’ll begin. Relax and let Mitch take care of you.”

  Sarah smiled back. “Is that a promise or a threat?”

  “Oh, babe, it’s a promise I have every intention of keeping.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Mitch held the brush and lipstick, not knowing which to use first. What if the lessons were doing more harm than good? He was going by instinct and Sarah seemed to be progressing very well. Too well, if the pulsing in his groin was any indication.

  Hair first, then lips, he decided.

  “Lean back, get comfortable and I’ll brush your hair.” He stepped behind Sarah and combed his fingers through her silky brown tresses. “You have awesome hair.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” She swiveled in the seat and gaped at him. “I hate my hair. I have more bad hair days than good ones.”

  Mitch turned her head forward and began to brush. “You see? It’s all a matter of perspective. I’d never guess you had bad hair days. It always looks pretty to me.”

  “Thanks. I think.” She clutched the arms of the chair in a death grip.

  He bent and whispered in her ear. “Relax. It’s only a photo shoot. I’m not going to do anything you don’t feel comfortable doing.”

  She turned her head and their lips were very close. He could feel her breath on his chin. See the questions in her eyes. How the hell had he gotten himself into this situation? Not for a moment did he believe he was the best person for this “mission.” But he damned sure didn’t trust anyone else to do the job.

  Mitch gave her a quick kiss, then continued brushing her hair. He needed to break the tension. “It’s not like I’m asking you to take off your clothes for the pictures.”

  Sarah tilted her head back until she was looking straight up at him. “Thanks for that very relaxing visual.”

  “Now we’re even, because my visual of you is definitely not relaxing. That is some dress you’re wearing there.”

  He’d told her to wear something low-cut and satiny. When he’d picked her up, he’d nearly had a heart attack. She’d chosen a classic little black number with thin shoulder straps. The skirt was long, yet that only fueled his imagination.

  Mitch leaned down and kissed her again. An upside down kiss that proved to be a killer. But then, every kiss with Sarah was killer.

  Focus, Defalco. Focus on the shoot. Focus on the goal.

  Again, he placed his hands on Sarah’s head and gently urged her to face forward. “We need to get to work.” He finished brushing her fine honey-brown hair, grabbed the lipstick from his pocket and knelt down in front of her.

  She eyed the lipstick, then eyed him. “You’re going to put lipstick on me?”

  “You got a problem with it?”

  Sarah’s brow crinkled in a frown. “No, I just can’t figure out where you’re going with this.”

  Mitch smiled. For all the progress they’d made, she was still skittish. Take it easy, Defalco. Slow things down.

  “I told you,” he said, sliding the cap off the lipstick. “I want to capture you on film. Show you how I see you.”

  He gently took hold of Sarah’s chin and carefully applied the lipstick. She sat docilely beneath his touch, eyes locked on his, hands still gripping the armrests. He finished smoothing the light burgundy cream onto her lush lips. Instead of giving in to temptation and kissing the color all off, he quickly straightened from the crouch and surveyed his handiwork.

  Not bad.

  “All right,” he said, returning the brush and lipstick to Sarah’s purse. “Let me get rid of this, and we’ll begin.”

  Sarah watched Mitch carry her purse and set it near the door again. She couldn’t keep from tapping her foot nervously against the carpeted floor. Who would’ve guessed having Mitch brush her hair could be so arousing? His touch, how he held her head still, the stroking motions of the brush—all produced exquisite sensations coursing through her body.

  When he’d squatted before her and applied the lipstick, his fingers on her chin scorched her skin. His big body pressed against her legs. Heat radiated from him, wrapping his scent around her. She’d clutched the armrests to keep from grabbing his shoulders and pulling him in for a kiss.

  Sarah found she was impatient with this whole set-up. She wanted to be in Mitch’s arms, sharing kisses and caresses. Not sitting here, suffering the torment of the taunting, teasing touches he offered. Could he be doing this on purpose?

  She laughed to herself. Of course, Bad-boy Defalco was doing this on purpose. He was teaching her another lesson. One of promises and anticipation.

  Mitch returned from adjusting the umbrella light and thingamajig and squatted in front of her again. He fluffed her hair forward with his fingers. “You’re beautiful.”

  Sarah jerked away. “Hey, aren’t you messing up what you so carefully arranged?”

  He smiled, the corners of his eyes creasing, pointing to the glimmer of silver at his temples. “I want it to be just right. Kind of tousled, framing your face.”

  “Good luck. I’ve never gotten it right in thirty-one years.” And she wasn’t just talking about hair, either.

  Mitch cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb over her sensitive skin. “You’ll get it right, this time. I promise.”

  Her breath stalled in her lungs at the sincerity in his voice and the heat in his dark eyes. “I’m going to hold you to that, Mitch Defalco.”

  “I’m counting on it, Sarah Smiles. Now, let’s get to work.”

  Mitch took hold of her arms and placed one in her lap, the other on her chest, between her breasts. She felt like a doll with bendable parts. When his fingers lingered here and caressed there, Sarah no longer felt like a doll. Her nipples puckered against the black satin bodice of her dress. Mitch winked, kissed the top of her head and rounded the chair, where he grasped her shoulders and straightened her back.

  Sarah labored for breath. Every touch, every brush of skin, fanned the heat building inside. She wondered at his restraint. When he stood in front of her again, the bulge behind his zipper told her he wasn’t as calm as he appeared. Quickly, she averted her gaze, but not before she caught sight of his heavy-lidded eyes and the slow, sensual smile on his sculpted lips. Lips she was dying to kiss and taste and bite.

  Sarah was shocked by the intensity of her feelings. Shocked, yet proud she’d progressed so far. She’d come a long way, and she had Mitch to thank for it.

  He sank into his long-limbed crouch in front of her again and removed her sandals. “I want your feet bare.” He tossed the shoes across the room, then took one foot in his strong hand and massaged the arch and heel. He lavished attention on her toes, bent to kiss them, one by one.

  Sarah gripped the armrests again, ruining his careful positioning of her hands. “What are you doing?” she said, trying desperately to survive the incredible sensations his touch evoked.

  Mitch took the other foot in his hand and caressed it, kissing and licking, rubbing and kneading. “Enjoying lesson number four. Aren’t you?”

  Speech was impossible—she could only nod. She’d never known her fe
et were so sensitive. A delicious tension mounted low in her body, and she felt damp between the thighs.

  Mitch placed her feet on the floor, positioning them just so. Then he ran his hands up her calves, under her long flowing skirt, grasping the backs of her legs and stroking—stoking the fire into an inferno.

  How long was he going to leave her in this state of unbearable arousal?

  Mitch stood and arranged her hands again. He put one on her lap and trailed his fingers feather-softly up her stomach. She moaned, and he grinned wickedly. Damn him. He positioned her other hand between her breasts again, moving his palm softly across one nipple. Her breath caught. Another wicked smile.

  “Ready?”

  Sarah swallowed and nodded. Ready, willing and wanting.

  He crossed the floor to the camera. “Look at me, Sarah.” She turned her head and looked directly into those dark sinful eyes. Her heart pounded in her ears.

  “Now, relax and keep your eyes on me,” he said, bending over the tripod. “Forget about the camera.”

  Sarah took three calming breaths. She could do this. “What camera?” she said, forcing a smile.

  Mitch smiled back and gave her a thumbs up. “That’s my girl.”

  If only that were true.

  For the next hour, Mitch snapped dozens of pictures. Sarah focused her attention on the man, admiring his enthusiasm for the art of photography and his determination to help her. She fell a little deeper in love with him and realized she was heading for heartache.

  Between changing backdrops and adjusting the lights, he swooped in to steal a kiss—or two, or three—an unholy gleam shining in his eyes. He had her sit on the floor, lie back against large colorful pillows. Every touch, every time skin brushed skin, Sarah wanted to scream in frustration.

  “Okay, sweetheart. These are the last couple of shots. Think about Coyote Dam and sitting on my bike. The moonlight on the water. How much I wanted you. How much I want you now.”

  His deep voice echoed softly in the room. Wrapped around her—seducing, bewitching.

  Slowly, Sarah got to her feet and walked purposefully toward Mitch. Enough already.

  “Hey! I still have two more shots.”

  “I believe we’re done for tonight.” She stood in front of him, breathed in his scent. “Kiss me, Mitch.”

  He set the camera and tripod to the side. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her like she’d been aching for since they’d first walked into the studio. He buried his fingers in her hair, cradling her head in his big hands. Sarah stood on tiptoe and leaned against him, enjoying his hard muscled strength through the filmy fabric of her black dress. They were both trembling when they finally came up for air.

  Mitch took both of Sarah’s hands and kissed them, then stepped back. “As enjoyable as this is, I think it’s time to call it a night. Lesson’s over, Sarah Smiles. I’ll take you home.”

  ****

  “Good morning, beautiful.”

  Sarah twirled around from the brass instruments she’d been dusting. Mitch stood on the other side of the counter looking at her with that special sparkle in his eyes.

  After last night’s photo session, every nerve ending had been shot through with sexual tension—and frustration. Mitch was an excellent teacher in the art of seduction. But the lessons were only lessons, Sarah reminded herself. He didn’t mean anything by the special looks or touches or kisses.

  She set down the feather duster. “Good morning to you, too.”

  He searched her face. “You all right?”

  “Fine. I’m fine.” That’s what really got her. He was so afraid he would do something wrong, yet he was doing everything right.

  “Sleep okay?” And there was that heavy-lidded look again, reminding her that he knew exactly how he’d affected her last night. How he was affecting her now.

  Two could play this game.

  “Slept like a baby,” she said, smiling sweetly. “How about you?”

  Mitch chuckled. “It’s no good, Sarah. You’re a terrible liar. Confess. You tossed and turned all night.”

  “I’ll only confess if you do.”

  He leaned over the counter, his face mere millimeters from Sarah’s. And damn, if she didn’t start hyperventilating. “I slept like a rock.”

  For a moment, they stared at each other. Then Sarah burst out laughing and shoved him away. “Right, Mitch. Like I believe that.”

  “Believe what you want, sweetheart.”

  Sarah’s breath caught when he grabbed her arm and pulled her close for a quick hard kiss. Then he leaned an elbow on the counter and looked around The Music Shoppe. “You have a nice selection of instruments and supplies here. Business any good?”

  She blinked, trying to recover from the kiss. “It keeps me out of the poor house. That’s about it, though.”

  “Good enough.” Mitch pushed away from the counter and headed toward the guitars.

  Sarah followed, wondering what he was up to. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

  He picked up a Yamaha, rubbed his hands over the glossy wood, strummed his fingers across the strings. “I might be.”

  “Are you thinking about playing again?” Lindsey had told Josh that Mitch had played her guitar and sung a song. Only once though. He hadn’t touched the instrument again.

  “Maybe.” He set the Yamaha aside and picked up a Gibson. “Mind if I try a few?”

  “Be my guest.”

  Mitch sat on a stool she provided for customers, guitar resting on the top of his thigh, and played an old John Denver tune. He played almost flawlessly, making only one or two mistakes.

  Sarah sat on the floor and listened. Mitch kept his head bent over the guitar, totally absorbed in the music he was making. When he finished, he looked up at her, smiling a different kind of smile. One filled with regrets? Lost dreams?

  “That was beautiful, Mitch. Why did you stop playing when you love it so much and you’re so talented?”

  He shrugged as he stood and replaced the guitar on its stand. Choosing a different Yamaha, he sat back down. “When I was in the band, life became a series of road trips, concerts, and hotel rooms. Groupies and drugs. I’m not saying all musicians are into drugs, but I certainly was. Big time. I got caught up in all the glitter and glamour, the high-rolling lifestyle. And if it hadn’t been for the accident, I might not be here today.”

  “What accident?”

  He strummed the guitar, adjusted one off-key string, then strummed it again. “After a concert in St. Louis, I’d been to a party and was feeling no pain. I took a ride in a rental car, went too fast and ended up in a ditch.”

  “Were you hurt?”

  “I came out of it with a few cuts and bruises, except I wasn’t alone.” He didn’t say anything more, just strummed the guitar. Pain and remorse shrouded him.

  “What happened?” Sarah asked softly.

  He looked up from the guitar, his brown eyes bleak. “The girl was killed. I didn’t know her name. I never knew their names.”

  Sarah squashed the flash of jealousy that ripped through her heart at the untold number of unnamed women in Mitch’s past. “And that’s why you gave up your music?”

  Mitch nodded. “I was charged with DUI, possession of narcotics and involuntary manslaughter. The judge gave me a choice between prison and joining the military. I chose the Marines. I swore I’d never pick up a guitar again. I was afraid I’d be tempted back to that lifestyle.”

  “Obviously you’ve changed your mind. Why?”

  “This is my life now. I’ll never go back. Seeing Lindsey enjoy her music, seeing you making a living selling music and helping others find the joy—yeah, I’ve changed my mind.”

  “And that’s the reason you still won’t let Lindsey play with Thomas’s band?”

  He let out a long exhalation. “Look, I’m letting her take lessons. I don’t want her making the same mistakes I did.”

  Sarah scooted closer, stil
l sitting on the floor. “Just because you ran off, doesn’t mean Lindsey will do the same.”

  “I can’t know that. I don’t want history repeating itself.”

  “Mitch, you have to let Lindsey live her own life.”

  “I know, except she might not be as lucky as I was.”

  “Lucky?” Sarah asked. “Now you’re confusing me.”

  “My guardian angel saved me that night or more likely, St. Jude, here.” He pulled out the silver medal he wore around his neck. “He’s the patron saint of lost causes and I was a lost cause. Sometimes I think I still am.”

  Sarah touched his arm. “No, Mitch. You’re not a lost cause. You’re a good man. You’re helping me and you’re trying to do right by Lindsey.”

  He slipped the medal inside his shirt again. “I’m not doing such a hot job with her.”

  “She’s coming along,” Sarah said, squeezing his arm. “It takes time to establish trust. Time for love to grow. For both of you.” For both of us. But Sarah didn’t voice that thought.

  Mitch looked at her, a question in his eyes. Had he read her mind? “Sarah—”

  The door to the shop opened and Mitch turned his attention to the guitar. “You have a customer.”

  “It’s the mail.” Sarah left him and walked over to meet Cathy Bishop.

  “What’s he doing here?” Cathy whispered, nodding in Mitch’s direction.

  “What does it look like? Trying out guitars.”

  “Someone told me he hadn’t played in years.”

  “Who told you that?”

  Cathy shrugged. “I can’t remember. The grapevine’s been buzzing ever since he moved back to Stone Creek. You know how it is. Same thing happened when you moved back after Ryan’s death.”

  Sarah sighed. “What’s the grapevine saying about him?”

  Cathy ducked her head and busied herself rummaging in her large mail tote. Oh lord. What was the grapevine saying about Mitch?

  Still not answering, Cathy pulled a bundle of catalogs from her bag. “Here you go. I knew they were somewhere in there. Must have worked themselves down to the bottom—”

  “What are people saying?” Sarah asked again.