A Man Not Her Own Page 19

  ****

  Mitch waited in the kitchen for Sarah to return. The nasty accusations her mother had flung at her still rang in his ears. Sarah had bravely withstood the tirade. She had patiently talked in that butter-soft voice of hers, trying to bridge the gaping hole between mother and daughter, understanding what her mother must be feeling, still feeling after all these years.

  Sweet Sarah Smiles. Her mother was right about one thing—her daughter deserved someone better than Mitch Defalco.

  Even though he’d done his best to put his destructive lifestyle behind him, he still wasn’t the right person for someone as kind and gentle as Sarah Cooper.

  This past week had been fabulous. Sarah had pushed aside her fears and let herself go. The first time they’d made love, and every time after, when she climaxed and called his name, Mitch felt a pure rush of adrenaline.

  He’d never had sex like that. Never.

  Giving into temptation, he had spent the week with Sarah, in bed and out. He’d be a son of a bitch if he continued seeing her.

  He could see the love in her eyes. He could tell her feelings for him ran deep, and it scared the crap out of him.

  What scared him even more were his own feelings. He didn’t want to explore the tightening constriction in his chest at the thought of never holding Sarah in his arms again, kissing her, making love to her.

  He had to make a clean, quick break. The sooner, the better. For both of them.

  Sarah walked back into the kitchen. “I’m sorry about that. Obviously, my mother still has deep issues concerning Jeanie’s death. She should get professional help. I’m going to talk to my dad. Maybe he can get her to go to a doctor.”

  She crossed the room and stood before Mitch. He could smell the lavender scent that wisped around her. She was still in that damn little nightgown she’d slept in. It barely covered her and was more erotic than seeing her completely naked. Her breasts thrust against the filmy material, the rosy nipples tight little beads straining, beckoning.

  Sarah draped her arms around his neck and pressed her body close. “Thanks for coming to my rescue back there. Like a knight in shining armor.”

  Mitch hated to do it, but do it he must. Fast, clean. Say the words and get the hell out—out of her house—out of her life.

  He took hold of her hands at the back of his neck and dragged them down and away, but for the life of him, he couldn’t let go. Not yet. Not completely.

  “I’m not a knight in shining armor,” he said, his voice gruff in his own ears. “I’m nowhere near being a knight.”

  She squeezed his hands and the electric current zapped every nerve ending in his body. “You’re my knight in shining armor. Mitch, I lo—”

  He shook his head. “Don’t say it. Don’t say you love me, because you don’t. You can’t.”

  “But I do.” She searched his face. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

  Mitch felt like a bastard. He was a bastard. He should never have given into temptation to help Sarah. Yet he could no more have resisted the opportunity to get her in bed, than he could deny his next breath.

  “I can’t do this any longer. Last night was our final lesson. I hope I’ve helped you with your problem. I don’t want to hurt you, but we have to call it quits.”

  “Why? Don’t you want me any more?” she said softly, a sob catching in her voice.

  He swallowed. “Oh, babe, I want you so much I ache with it. But I’m not the right man for you. You want the white picket fence and forever and ever. I warned you—I don’t do forever. You deserve someone better than me.”

  Sarah’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “What if I don’t want anyone else? What if I say that I love Bad-boy Defalco? I don’t care about his past. I’ve fallen in love with Mitch Defalco as he is today, and I’ll take whatever he has to give. For however long he wants to give it.”

  Mitch shook his head. His chest hurt like hell.

  Letting go of Sarah’s hands was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

  Sarah stared at her hands, then raised those beautiful eyes his way. “I’m not asking for a commitment. I don’t understand.”

  But Mitch did. He stepped back.

  Away from Sarah.

  Away from temptation. “Believe me, it’s better this way. Good bye, Sarah Smiles.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Throughout the next interminable week and the weeks that followed, Sarah tried her best to act normal. Except what was normal? For years, she’d been bundled up in a cocoon, blocking out thoughts and images of that horrible night so long ago; building walls so thick and strong, even her husband Ryan hadn’t been able to break through.

  But Mitch had broken through. He’d been patient and gentle, different from Ryan’s patience and gentleness. Sarah had loved her husband; what she’d felt for him had been a safe temperate kind of love. There was nothing safe or temperate about her feelings for Mitch.

  Living next door to the man she loved, but couldn’t have, was hell. And she couldn’t keep from seeing him in town either, not with his studio across the street from The Music Shoppe. Sarah tried not to look for him during the day, yet more times than she cared to admit, she caught glimpses of him through the big front window of the store. She seemed to have a built-in radar system, alerting her whenever that tall build, athletic physique and dark hair was anywhere in sight.

  Seeing Mitch in town, coming home from work, mowing his lawn, playing basketball with Lindsey was pure torture, through and through. Once, when Sarah had been sitting on her front porch and he’d pulled into his driveway, she’d waved. He’d parked his bike, removed his helmet and stared at her. Then he’d turned and walked into his house without a backward glance.

  For one wild moment, she thought of packing up and moving, except that would upset Josh too much. He’d had enough disruptions in his young life. Sarah didn’t want to add another one. Besides, Josh was upset as it was. He knew something was going on. He hadn’t said anything, but he knew.

  Lindsey knew, too. She’d come over to play videos with Josh one evening and cornered Sarah in the kitchen.

  “What’s up with you and Mitch?” she’d asked, leaning against the counter, reminding Sarah of Mitch standing there with the same pose, same attitude.

  Sarah scrubbed the iron skillet with more energy than necessary. “Nothing’s up. We’ve been busy, that’s all. Our paths haven’t crossed.”

  “Oh, puh-leez.” Lindsey rolled her eyes. “Before Josh and I left town, you two were making gaga eyes at each other so much, it made me want to puke. Now you’re not speaking to each other? Come on. Something’s not right. I asked Mitch and he just grunted. I want to know what happened. I thought with me and the kid out of your hair, you guys would finally have the chance to, you know, go to bed together. Did that backfire or what?”

  Sarah leaned her elbows on the edge of the sink, soapsuds covering her hands and wrists. When she’d been sixteen, there was no way she’d have talked that frankly about sex with an adult. Hell, she’d still have a problem discussing it with a friend today. And with Lindsey? No way.

  Sarah cleared the lump in her throat. “It didn’t work out between your father and me. That’s all.”

  “But Mrs. C... Sarah... You love him. Don’t say you don’t. I may only be a kid, but I can see how you feel. It’s in your eyes every time he walks in the room. Every time his name is mentioned. It makes me nauseous, but I also think it’s pretty cool.”

  Sarah sighed. She took her time and rinsed the iron skillet. She would not cry in front of Lindsey. Not until she was safely in bed would she allow her tears to flow—like she’d done every night since Mitch had left her.

  Lindsey grabbed a towel. “Let me dry that for you.”

  “Thanks, sweetie.” Sarah pulled the plug from the sink. The soapy water swirled down the drain, along with all her hopes and dreams.

  Lindsey finished drying the skillet and set it on the stove. She tossed the towel on the counter
and turned to face Sarah. “Men are such jerks. He’s in love with you, too. You realize that, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Sarah said. “The problem is Mitch doesn’t realize it, or won’t realize it. Let it go, sweetie. That’s what I’m doing. It’s for the best.”

  “How can you say that? How can you let it go?”

  “I can’t make Mitch acknowledge he loves me. He’ll have to realize it himself.”

  “Well, that sucks.”

  Sarah smiled. She hadn’t smiled in weeks. “Yeah, it sucks big time.”

  ****

  One sunny afternoon soon after, Sarah dropped Josh off at the Rocking C Ranch so he could visit Maggie Callahan. The two children had been close friends since kindergarten and enjoyed getting together whenever possible. Today, Beth was hosting a swimming and fishing party for several of Maggie’s friends.

  Sarah said her goodbyes, and then headed for her parents’ place. With her mom out of town visiting her sister, Sarah had the perfect opportunity to talk to her dad alone. The conversation was bound to be awkward; however, it couldn’t be put off any longer. It was obvious her mother needed professional help to move past Jeanie’s death.

  Sarah found her dad in the stables. The smell of horses and hay comforted her and settled her jingly nerves, giving her courage to broach this difficult subject.

  “Hey, baby,” her dad said, coming forward and enveloping her in a big bear hug. “What brings you out to the ranch today? I’m saddling up old Chester here, getting him ready for a ride. Why don’t you come along with us? I’ll saddle up Buttercup for you. We haven’t ridden together in a long while.”

  Sarah looked down at her long skirt. “I’m not dressed for riding.”

  “Not a problem,” Robert said with a smile. “There’s an old pair of your jeans in the laundry room. You left them here last fall, when you helped me work some of the calves. I found them the other day when I was repairing the washing machine. They had fallen behind it.”

  “I was wondering where those jeans had disappeared to. I’ll change right quick and meet you at the gate.”

  Sarah hurried to the house, thankful for the short reprieve. Without a doubt, talking to her dad about her mom was going to be harder than she’d imagined.

  Ten minutes later, they mounted their horses and started out in the direction of Shady Creek. As they rode down the familiar trail, the mesquite trees rustled in the hot West Texas breeze. A covey of quail scattered from under a stand of prickly pear cactus, scurrying deeper into the underbrush of the pasture. Two cotton-tailed rabbits darted across their path, spooking Sarah’s horse.

  Gripping the reins tighter, she bent to pat Buttercup’s sleek golden neck. “Shh. It’s okay,” she whispered. The horse snorted and shook her head, then quickly settled down.

  “I don’t know why that old mare’s so skittish,” her dad said. “You’d think that after all these years, she would know nothing was going to hurt her out here.”

  Sarah patted the horse’s neck again. “She’s a drama queen, that’s for sure. She likes to make mountains out of molehills. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

  “Kind of like your mother, huh?”

  Sarah straightened in the saddle. “Yes, just like Mother.” She bit her lip and frowned. Here was the perfect opening. Was she brave enough to grab it?

  “Something bothering you, honey?” Robert nudged his horse with his boots, and they started riding again.

  Taking a deep breath, Sarah plunged right in. “Dad, we need to talk about Mother.”

  “What about her?” he said in a gruff voice.

  Sarah sneaked a peek at her dad. He sat tall in the saddle; his eyes focused on the trail ahead, a muscle twitching at the corner of his mouth. No, this was definitely not going to be an easy conversation.

  Sarah inhaled another deep breath. “She’s going around town, accusing Mitch Defalco of murdering Jeanie. Something’s got to be done to stop her. She needs help.”

  Her dad shot her a look. “What kind of help?”

  “Professional help,” Sarah said. “Dad, did you and Mother seek any emotional support or psychological counseling to help get you through Jeanie’s death?”

  He shook his head. “No. I thought about it, but then you had that appendicitis attack and emergency appendectomy. We thought we were going to lose you, too. We had our hands full for a while. After that, we never really talked much about Jeanie.”

  Robert rode in silence, a frown marring his forehead. “Your mother didn’t blame Mitch at first. Her grief was too great. It was six or seven months before she began blaming him. I was dealing with my own grief, my own demons. Blaming myself for not watching Jeanie more closely, wondering what I could have done differently, wondering if I could have prevented it somehow.”

  Her dad’s low tortured voice wrenched Sarah’s heart; unshed tears crowded her throat. “I can only imagine how hard it was to lose a child,” she said softly. “How hard it still is even after all these years.”

  Robert cleared his throat. “Yes, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

  “Oh, Daddy...”

  “I guess it’s my fault, about your mother, I mean. I let her rant on about Mitch. It seemed to give her comfort somehow. I thought she was okay. She only brought him up every so often, when she was feeling really depressed. I don’t think she was telling anyone around town before now. In fact, I’m pretty certain she wasn’t.”

  “Dad, something has to be done about this. Mother needs professional help. She’s obviously never gotten over Jeanie’s death. Not that she could get completely over it, but she needs to move on, like you have. It’s destroying her life, and it’s making people around town very uncomfortable.”

  “Honey, I don’t know—”

  “It’s going to be difficult, but she needs to see a psychiatrist.”

  “I can’t make her go.”

  “Dad, you have to. Talk to Dr. Adams. He’s been our doctor forever, and Mother trusts him. She’ll do what he says. Please, Dad.”

  Robert stared off across the rugged landscape and sighed deeply. “I’ll do what I can, sweetheart. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  Sarah unclenched her fists and loosened her hold on the reins. “And I’ll help anyway I can. You don’t have to do this alone.”

  “It’ll probably be better if I handle it myself. I don’t know why and I hate that it’s so, but you and your mother have always rubbed each other the wrong way.”

  Sarah smiled a sad smile. “I know. But I’ll be here for you, Dad. Just keep that in mind. I’ll be here for you.”

  ****

  What the hell had he done? Mitch called himself a fool again and again in the following weeks. All the good he’d accomplished with Sarah, and then he’d thrown it all away. He’d gone and hurt her; he knew he’d hurt her. He wasn’t blind.

  Every single day, he saw Sarah—either in town, going in and out of her shop, or else, he’d see her at home working in her garden, swinging in her swing. Well, not so much of that lately. If she sat on her porch these days, it was in that wicker chair with her back facing his house.

  He couldn’t blame her for giving him the cold shoulder. He was the worst kind of bastard and he knew it. There was no excuse for what he’d done. Sure, he’d given her lessons in lovemaking, trying to help her get over her fear of men, but he’d also been trying to get in her pants, like the horny bastard that he was.

  And when he’d finally gotten her naked in bed, what had happened? As soon as he’d plunged into her sweet heat, he’d known he’d made a huge mistake. Because that’s when he realized he’d gone and fallen in love with sweet Sarah Smiles.

  Thank God, he’d had appointments out the wazoo the past couple of weeks. Working helped keep him from thinking about Sarah. About how he’d hurt her. How he felt about her. How hopeless everything was.

  A couple of evenings ago, he had finally gathered his courage and developed the other two ro
lls of film he’d shot of Sarah the night they’d come to his studio for one of the lessons. In the darkroom, when the pictures emerged in the developing solution, there she was smiling at him from almost every photo he’d taken, every angle he’d shot. If she wasn’t smiling, she was looking at him from beneath long lashes, her love shining in her eyes. Every picture was like a knife stabbing him in the heart. A heart he now knew belonged to Sarah Cooper.

  How had it happened? When had it happened? Bad-boy Defalco, in love with the prettiest, sweetest girl in town.

  If his heart didn’t ache so much, if his body didn’t throb with a need so strong it nearly killed him, the irony of the situation might have made him laugh.

  Yet Mitch felt no inclination to laugh. He’d screwed up and he didn’t know how to fix it. Just because he loved her didn’t change anything. Sarah still deserved a man better than he was or would ever be.

  He’d dried the photos, gathered the best ones together, put them in a large envelope and left them on his desk. And there they’d sat, mocking him, taunting, torturing.

  Mitch didn’t know what to do with them. He didn’t know what to do period. He was miserable. He’d be a selfish son of a bitch if he gave into his feelings. Sarah might love him now, but it wouldn’t last. Her love would quickly die when she realized what he was really like.

  After an unusually hectic day—hectic was good, especially now—Mitch prepared to close up shop. He straightened his desk, eyeing the envelope containing the photos of Sarah. He picked it up and glanced around the studio. Suddenly, he couldn’t face going home right now, so he headed to the restaurant. It was still early. He’d be missing the supper crowd. Maybe he’d order a pizza for him and Lindsey.

  Mitch grabbed a seat at the bar and set the envelope on the counter. Marco poured him a cup of coffee.

  “Hey, what have we here?” Marco snatched up the packet.

  Mitch didn’t have the energy to stop him.

  His brother held the envelope high, eyeing him, like he wanted Mitch to try to take it back. Marco was always ready for a friendly brawl. “What’s wrong with you?” Marco asked. “You step in front of a steamroller?”