Pain bashed Jaye in the diaphragm. She couldn’t breathe. With an awkward stumble, she jerked out of Tara’s clawing grasp and whirled toward Mitch. “Did you kiss Tara the same night you kissed me?”
The muscles along Mitch’s jaw tightened. “She came on to me and I told her I wasn’t interested.”
Uncertainty slithered into her chest. Could she believe him, or was he capable of pulling the same stunts as David?
Mitch reached for her, his hand rock steady.
Tara stepped between them. “I won’t let you make the same mistakes I’ve made, Mitch. You’re not thinking straight. Some girl comes out of nowhere, moves into your house, and suddenly you’re dating her. Who is she? What does she want? She could be after your money, your house, or your company. Have you thought of that?”
The admonition reverberated through the air like someone had banged a spoon against the rim of a hand-blown glass. Jaye’s stomach twisted in shock. All her life, she’d been on the lookout for gold-diggers. Never once had she been accused of coveting someone else’s assets.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mitch muttered.
“Fine. Go ahead and let her ruin you. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Jaye could hear the ragged hurt edging Tara’s sharp words and felt an unexpected spurt of sympathy. Clearly, Tara felt for Mitch. Facing his indifference probably stung. To defuse the tension, Jaye lowered her gaze and headed for the garage. Footsteps followed, hard and fast.
“He might not care who you are, but I do,” Tara hissed.
A hard shove landed between Jaye’s shoulder blades, propelling her forward. She lost her footing and fell like a kid on an ice rink, face first. A sharp sting pierced her cheekbone.
Heavy footsteps thumped toward her. Two big hands gripped her shoulders, urgently helping her sit. Mitch touched her cheek and gazed at the streak of red along his fingers. His eyes narrowed into two forbidding slits.
Catching sight of the anger swirling among the navy flecks in his eyes, she gripped his wrist. “Don’t blame Tara. She’s in pain.”
“What about you?” He frowned, searching her face. “Aren’t you in pain?”
“I’m fine. The snow cushioned my fall.” Splaying a mittened hand on the ground, Jaye scrambled to her feet.
Tara gasped and stared at Jaye’s face. “Oh, God. You’re bleeding. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Get out of here, Tara. Don’t come back.” Mitch scooped Jaye up like she weighed little more than a child and carried her into the house. After lowering her carefully onto the living room couch, he ripped off his coat. “I’m getting the first aid kit.”
He disappeared into the kitchen. A cabinet door slammed.
Outside, the Corvette roared. The throaty purr of its engine faded from earshot.
Tara’s departure didn’t ease Jaye’s mind. She’d left her ex-boyfriend to escape all the drama, but had she stepped into another soap opera? It seemed so, considering the small drip of blood on the sleeve of her new coat. She swiped a thumb over the spot and created a rusty smear on the dark fabric.
Mitch knelt in front of her. He squirted antiseptic on a gauze pad and frowned at her cheek. “A rock nicked you. I need to clean the cut.”
“Let me.” She reached for the gauze.
“No, Jaye. Don’t fight me.” He caught her chin in his warm hand and pressed the gauze to her left cheekbone.
The feel of his skin on hers hurt more than the medicine. She didn’t want him to touch her, not until she figured out if he was like David. Pulling back, she held up her hand. “I’m all right.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Really, I’m fine.” She plucked the gauze out of his fingers so he’d stop doctoring her and tried to take off her snowy boot.
Mitch took over, pulling her left foot free. “Talk to me.”
She didn’t want to voice the feelings swirling inside her. Better to ignore them, stuff them deep inside, and pretend they didn’t exist. A quiver touched her mouth. She bit her bottom lip to kill the damning tremor and slid her foot out of the other boot. Without the heavy shoes weighing her down, she could sprint to the safety of her bedroom. “I’m going to bed.”
“Wait.” Mitch shaped his palm against the outer edge of her thigh, tracing the seam of her jeans with his thumb. “Let me take care of you.”
“No need. I’m a big girl.” Almost as an afterthought, she brushed the gauze across the cut. Pink lymph stained the white bandage. “The bleeding has stopped. This cut is nothing. I’ve been hit harder when I played college lacrosse.”
His steady gaze poured into hers. “Your cut isn’t the only thing hurting.”
Pretending she had no idea what he meant, she stared in wooden indifference at his rigid jaw.
The muscles on either side of his mouth tightened, forming hollows in his rigid cheeks. “Tell me what the hell you’re thinking. I can tell you’re pissed. You haven’t looked into my eyes since I carried you inside. How can I fix things if I don’t know what’s wrong?”
“I won’t be ready to fix things until I figure out what I’m feeling.” For good measure, she popped a brief glare into his blue eyes.
He leaned back on his heels and rubbed a knuckle along his chin.
Jaye jerked her head toward the hallway. “It’s been a long day. I want to lie down.”
With a brusque nod, he stood. “Give me your keys. I’ll pull our cars into the garage so they don’t get covered in ice.”
She dropped her keys into his palm, fighting the impulse to call him back when he walked away. Talking this out would be the mature thing to do, but a sharp tingle of tears silenced her. She hadn’t cried in front of anyone since she was a kid—a record she wanted to maintain.
Rising on unsteady legs, she walked out of the living room. She tried not to think of Tara’s possessive hold on Mitch, the kiss Tara claimed Mitch bestowed,
