Ain’t Misbehaving

lonely as hell. I hate to have to tell you this, but you were born to be married,” she said smugly. She handed him his coat, since he seemed to be looking around wildly for it. “As for me,”she added firmly, “I can take care of myself. It’s you who can’t.”

“Look, Kay…”

“It’s easy to dish out advice, but not quite so easy to take it, now is it?” she asked sympathetically as he opened the front door, then turned back with a deliberate scowl.

“I’d just feel a great deal better if I knew him,” he said flatly.

“You do know Mitch. And you said you liked him.”

“That was as a man’s man.” Stix stuck his hands in his pockets and stared at the ceiling. “Listen,” he said gruffly. “You’re protected and all that?”

Kay burst out laughing.

He glared at her. “Just because you go around teaching it and all doesn’t mean that you’re overflowing in the sense department yourself. You’re a sitting duck for some guy with a really smooth line.”

“Thanks so much.”

“You’ve always opened your door to just anybody-witness, myself. People ask you for the shirt off your back and you strip-”

“Not literally,” Kay interrupted.

“That’s a relief. And another thing. You’re too damned honest. Men lie. There aren’t many women like you running around, you know, and if you think some guy wouldn’t take all he could get-”

“I think that was a backhanded compliment,” Kay murmured.

“Because if he’s putting the moves to you without some commitment behind it- Are you in love with him?” Stix asked abruptly.

Kay rose up on tiptoes. “Give us a kiss now and be on your way. I’m exhausted after all this advice.”

“You’re exhausted?” Stix gave her a peck on the cheek and pushed open the door. “You’re worse than a sister. I can’t handle all this responsibility!”

“Out!”

***

Three hours later, Kay was leaning over the bathroom sink, applying makeup. Every cosmetic bottle and tube she’d accumulated over the past ten years was piled on the counter in front of her. Ella Fitzgerald was serenading her from the stereo in the living room.

Ella was bubbling about the lady being a tramp.

Kay stroked some mascara onto her eyelashes, and then leaned back to judge its effect. Stix, she considered glumly, was an extremely amusing man. He was so darn sure she was having a wildly erotic affair with Mitch.

The fact was, Ella should be singing the old one, “Ain’t Misbehavin’.”

She was beginning to think Mitch’s favorite pastime was turning Kay on…and leaving her high and dry.

Shoving the makeup containers back in the drawer, Kay wandered back to the bedroom to slip on her shoes. After deliberating over three other outfits, she’d finally settled on a pale green angora sweater and forest-green skirt. She was comfortable in the outfit, and she wanted to feel at ease when she met Mitch’s parents.

Rapidly, she took a brush to her hair, letting the strands fall loose and smooth to her shoulders. Just washed, her hair always looked streaked, a mane of gold and brown. Tonight, her eyes had a troubled luster-mascara- induced in part, but not all. Her mirror reflection reminded her that the soft angora of her sweater emphasized her high breasts and the simple A-line of her skirt showed off her legs. The effect of the outfit was supposed to be subdued, suitable for parent-meeting.

She did not particularly look like a wanton hussy, which was precisely what she felt like. Good Lord, the man respected her. She ought to be his major cheering section. He showed an incredible sensitivity to her feelings. He obviously didn’t want to rush her into a relationship she might not be ready for; and he certainly must care, or he wouldn’t be around seven days out of seven-nor would he be willing to endure the sexual frustration he was putting himself through.

That was fine. Wonderful.

Only she happened to love that big lug like hell. He was smart and he was funny and he was considerate…and whether he knew it or not, he was shy. He was rapidly turning into the same kind of life celebrator she was, just enjoying…being. Doing. It never mattered what they were doing; you’d think he was discovering laughter for the first time. To summarize it all rather rapidly, Mitch was the kind of man you locked up once you found him.

She’d looked too hard and too long to find one of that species. This time love hurt; it mattered so much.

His old-fashioned values about sex were rather sweet…weren’t they?

The doorbell rang. Kay gave herself one last glance in the mirror before heading out.

Yes, his values were sweet-but they had to go.

Chapter Ten

“Get those two men together and they just never stop talking. Come on, Kay, let’s get out of here and do something intellectually stimulating. Like gossip.”

Smiling, Kay followed Mitch’s mother from the living room, but not before she’d received duplicate winks from both Cochran men. Jane Cochran led her through a long hall, lit by a skylight and made wonderfully warm with dozens of hanging plants. The dining room was done in pastel brocade, and between that and the kitchen was a sort of nook.

“The butler’s pantry,” Jane explained. She reached up to the top shelf of a cupboard, and studied Kay with an examining eye. “I can’t tell if you’re a port or brandy lady.”

“Port would be nice.”

“Good.” Two crystal glasses appeared on the counter, then the bottle. Jane opened the long cupboard below the counter, and two stools appeared. She pulled them out and motioned Kay to one as she poured the wine. “Did you like that shrimp concoction for dinner?”

“I loved it,” Kay said honestly.

“You don’t have to say that, you know.” Jane’s smiling appraisal of Kay was affectionate, but it was nevertheless an appraisal. “I should have trusted my son’s taste instead of fretting all day about what you’d be like,” she confessed. “I’ve also been afraid all evening that I would ask personal questions, like how long have you been seeing Mitch.”

Kay chuckled. “I’ve been seeing your son for almost two months now.”

“And I won’t ask another question, I promise. If I did, Mitch would undoubtedly shoot me,” Jane said gravely. “Anyway, I’m not in the least curious about how the two of you met. Not that my son doesn’t talk to me, but getting personal information out of him is like getting blood out of a stone.”

“And I don’t want to bore you with what you don’t want to hear, but we met at the hospital,” Kay volunteered with a smile. “On alternate Saturday mornings I usually visit the children’s ward.”

Jane nodded. “Mitch has been doing that for a long time. I didn’t understand at first. I thought it would only give him painful memories.”

Kay cocked her head curiously, but Jane motioned her up with the tilt of her glass. “Let’s talk as we walk. I haven’t shown you the rest of the house.”

The house where Mitch had grown up was on one of Coeur d’Alene’s inland coves. The place was two-storied, and sprawled around turns and alcoves and rooms stuck here and there for no obvious purpose. Greenery hung from most windows; very old oils graced the walls, and each room had its own gentle color schemes, from mauve to pale blue to leaf green.

“I could kill my son. That monstrous barn he bought, and he still hasn’t furnished it properly after all this time. I’ve offered to help, but he’s an independent cuss, if you haven’t noticed that already.”