Jaye put her hand on top of his, struck by the solid width of his hand. “You make this factory run, Mitch. You’re the first one here and the last one to leave, doing everything from fixing the copying machine to keeping the studio’s two thousand degree furnace running. Asking more from you would be incredibly unfair.” She squeezed the broad row of his knuckles. “Your father wants to do his part, and he’s determined to increase your profit margin. I’m sure he never meant to fall behind with the bills.”
Mitch curled his fingers around hers. “No matter how much you try to smooth the wrinkles out between us, you can’t fix things between me and my father.”
“I know.” She gave him a sad smile. “You’re the only one who can forgive him for whatever he did to make you so angry.”
He pulled out of her grip. “Hell, Jaye. You’re asking a lot.”
“Because I think you’re capable of a lot.”
The corner of his mouth tightened. He picked up an envelope and frowned at the address. “Don’t worry about cooking dinner for me tonight. I won’t be home till late.”
She paused at the door. “You’ll do anything to get out of eating liver, won’t you?”
His gaze blazed across the distance between them. “Doesn’t matter what you put on my plate, Jaye. The food isn’t why I rush home at night.”
Chapter Twelve
Mitch spotted a familiar redhead leaning against one of the brick columns flanking Blake Glassware’s main door. Damn, not her. Not now.
She lifted her hand and waved, red-tipped fingers wiggling like five little snakes.
Tara Donahue sniffed around the factory whenever she was broke or single. Mitch wondered which it was this time. He gritted his teeth and trudged out of the building.
“Looks like you had a hard day, Mitch.” Red lips parted into a smile.
Those cold green eyes gave him the once-over. No doubt, she was calculating how much his bank account grew since the last time she tried to sink her claws into him. He ignored the syrupy sympathy in her voice and jammed his key in the door’s lock.
“Want to go out for a drink?” She nudged his shoulder. “I hear there’s a new bar in Coudersport.”
“No.” After spending twelve straight hours deciphering the mess on his father’s desk, he just wanted to go home. He twisted his key and heard the reassuring thud of the deadbolt slide into place.
Tara lifted a cigarette to her painted mouth, inhaled, and blew a gray tendril of smoke into the cold air. “Knowing you, it’s been months since you’ve had a cold beer. Or anything else pleasurable.”
“Work gratifies me more than anything else.”
“How strange.” Tara flicked the cigarette to the pavement and crushed the smoldering tip under the spiked heel of her black boot. “I don’t know if you heard, but my husband left me.”
“I know.” According to the gossip circulating around town, Tara’s husband paid her a hefty sum so he could run off with his secretary. Tara blew through the amount in four months. Now she was on the prowl again. Unwilling to be her next target, Mitch walked through the foul cloud of smoke toward his truck.
She caught up with him, shooting a critical glance his way. “You look like hell.”
“I wouldn’t know. Never been there.”
“Ha. Very funny.” She draped herself against the driver’s side of his truck. With a quick jerk of her hand, she opened her coat and propped one hand on an outthrust hip.
Big breasts threatened to pop out of the low neckline of her blouse. Her jeans looked like someone had painted the dark denim onto her legs, but Mitch wasn’t impressed. Nothing looked better than Jaye Davis in a skirt—except Jaye Davis in running tights.
Tara coiled a strand of long red hair around a finger. “Are you still living like a monk? There’s something I can do to change that, you know.”
She was the consummate predator, one who could sense the weakness in her prey, almost as though she could smell his loneliness. Mitch had no desire to accept her offer. With any luck, he’d see Jaye in a few minutes. Her warm gaze would ease his hollow isolation. “Get out of the way, Tara. I’m dead tired and I want to go home.”
“Can I come?” She snaked her arm around his neck and kissed his jaw. “I can think of a few ways to wake you up.”
“No.” He moved her away with a deliberate nudge.
“Why do you always say no? I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you with a woman. How long has it been? Two years?” A plucked eyebrow rose toward her hairline. “Why aren’t you with anybody?”
Guilt shimmered through him. “Too busy.”
“Don’t give me that crap. Did someone break your heart?” She scanned his face and her eyes widened. “Wait a minute. You broke someone’s heart. That’s why you’re punishing yourself.”
His gut twisted. Two years ago, he severed two relationships that should’ve lasted a lifetime—but he’d be damned if he would admit that fact to Tara. He swiped away the memory, yanking open his truck door with more force than necessary.
She grabbed his coat sleeve. “We’d be good together, Mitch. Remember the night before you left for college? The bunch of us drove up to Cherry Springs Park. I drank too much beer and pulled you into the car for a kiss. It was a good kiss.”
“I’m not a high school kid anymore.” He was a grown man now, poisoned by the things he’d done. For too long, he felt like a monster—but he was finally feeling human again. His rebirth had everything to do with the woman living in his extra bedroom. Every time he received one of Jaye’s smiles, he felt like the sum of his character made up for his sins. “Go home, Tara. Don’t come back.”
She buttoned her coat. “Fine. I’ll go to the bar by myself. Someone else will buy me a drink. You’ll regret
