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“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?
Chapter Two
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Ellie gasped at the sound of Mitch’s sharp voice. She grabbed the TV tighter, but her startled jerk pulled the big black monster right off the edge of the scarred television stand.
Omigod.
“Hang on, Gabe. Michael, Rafe, come here. Hurry!”
The two boys jumped up from the living-room floor, followed by the little black dog. Bubba Sue pranced around wagging her tail.
“Come on, guys, grab hold. Lift!”
Dam! She’d hoped to have the TV moved by the time Mitch got back from the hospital. She’d show this...this renegade who’d accused her of...of... And after he’d tried to kiss her!
She wasn’t a kept woman! She and her kids could take care of King. They didn’t need help from Mitchell Kole—or anyone.
But the darned TV weighed more than a carton of bricks!
“Heave, guys.” She shifted her weight, took a wider step and came down on something that rooollllled...
“Ooohh, nooo... The crayoonnns!”
“Out of the way, kids. I’ll take that”
Mitch descended on them from the landing, just barely capturing the TV as it plummeted toward the floor.
Ellie kept right on plummeting.
“Unnhhh.” Whatever she landed on imprinted itself, probably permanently, on her backside.
Seri dashed across the room, with the dog hot on her heels, and threw her arms around Ellie’s neck. “Mommy!”
“I’m okay, sweetheart.” Ellie nudged the licking dog away and hugged her daughter, all the while avoiding Mitch’s glare. Her ego hurt a whole lot more than the bruise that would no doubt tattoo her bottom.
“Good—!” two very large, very warm hands lifted her to her feet making her feel like a rag doll with a silly, wobbly heartbeat “—because I’d hate to have to wait till you recover to read you the riot act.”
Ellie tried to pull away, but Mitch glowered down at her, holding her tight, making her forget she’d ever wanted to escape. His warmth ribboned through her like some kind of magical potion. She watched his eyes change to a cloudy uncertainty, his gaze slide to her lips. Her knees went weak—the same way they had that morning. What was this man doing to her?
Then he stepped back.
But the distance wasn’t enough, not nearly enough to stop what was happening to her. The explosions of light. The wanting. She was overheated and out of control because of his closeness. His touch.
Men like Mitch should never happen to her.
“Would you please tell me what you were doing?” he demanded. “You could have hurt yourself. Or a kid. You damn near dropped the TV.”
Ellie smoothed her sweater over her throbbing bottom and prayed her face wasn’t flaming. She tried to ignore her confusion.
“We’re moving the TV into the dormitory. I thought since King will be on crutches, I’d bring the land mines out here. Fix a safe place for him in there.”
“Land mines?” Mitch scanned the room, clearly uncomfortable.
“Toys.” Thank goodness for her children. She waved an arm to introduce him to the hazards of child rearing. And to hide her trembling.
Gabe had flopped back on the threadbare plaid sofa with a book and the dog, though he kept a wary eye on Mitch. More books cluttered the floor and the coffee table where Mitch had rested the TV. Michael crouched in front of his cardboard fortress, talking nonstop to a half-dozen army figures. Rafe stretched on his stomach in front of a coloring book and at least a hundred crayons—along with the portable phone. And Seri fussed with her dollhouse boxes, arranging them like an estate near Michael’s fortress.
“All this stuff makes walking...difficult. As I’ve just so cleverly demonstrated.” Ellie managed an embarrassed smile. “I don’t want King doing what I just did.”
She stood a little taller, the movement reflected in the mirror above the sofa. Mitch’s reflection caught her attention, too, and she couldn’t stop herself from meeting his gaze. He was watching her again with that same meltdown intensity. For a moment her heartbeat threatened to run away.
“Neither do I,” he murmured.
Neither did he what? Dam! Now he had her forgetting what they were talking about. Ellie gave herself a swift mental kick. This was the man who’d assumed she was his father’s mistress, for heaven’s sake. The woman staring back from the mirror hardly qualified for that kind of job. Clothes hanging too loose, eyes sporting dark circles—and her children, her wonderful children, added up to four.
No man took a mistress with four children—Mitch should know that. Her husband hadn’t even wanted a wife with four children.
She made a point not to look at Mitch again as she headed toward the door. “Okay, guys, let’s bring the rest of your stuff out here.”
“Since he thinks we’re too weak, why don’t you have him help?” Gabe’s defiant voice rose from behind his book.
“Gabriel Sander, that’s no way to—”
“I...uh...have a few things to tell you first.”
Mitch’s announcement stirred Ellie’s concerns. “Is King okay? They’re keeping him in the hospital longer, aren’t they? I didn’t think he should come home after only four days.” Please let that be all Mitch had to tell them. She didn’t know how she would deal with anything more.
“He’s doing as well as can be expected—for a man who’s used to his freedom.” A shade of bitterness darkened Mitch’s tone.
How could he talk about his father like that? “For a son who hasn’t been around in years, you seem to know an awful lot about your father.”
For once, Mitch avoided looking at her. “The doctor said he can come home tomorrow. But there’ll have to be more changes around here.”
“Like what?” she demanded.
“To start with, he’ll need a hospital bed, one that raises and lowers. And a mattress that’ll hold more than a fifty-pound kid. Also, a trapeze bar.” Mitch ticked the items off slowly. He looked downright uncomfortable.
Michael jumped up from the floor. “King’s gonna have a trapeze? I want to swing on King’s trapeze, can I, Mom? Please, can—”
