Clear as Glass Page 4

Approaching footsteps thudded down the hallway. A pair of smudged tan work boots stopped at her door.

  Mitch held up a key. “You’ll need this in an hour.”

  She tapped her fingers against the keyboard. “Will that key open a hotel room?”

  “No, but it’ll get you into my house.” He slid the shiny key beside her laptop, his close-cropped hair glinting gold in the late afternoon light pouring in from the window. “Sarah said she volunteered to drive you home. Feel free to use whatever pots and pans you need to cook dinner. Want directions to the nearest grocery store?”

  “Don’t think so.” She leaned back in her chair and folded her hands across her abdomen. “I’m planning on swimming in a hotel pool tonight.”

  He braced his hands on the edge of her desk. “In case you’re stuck in my house, I like to eat dinner at six.”

  “Enjoy your meal. I’ll be ordering room service. We city girls like to eat at seven.”

  “Country boys can compromise. I’ll come home for dinner at six-thirty.” He winked and turned toward the door.

  Jaye frowned at the impressive slope of his shoulders. Country boys oozed raw masculinity. For her peace of mind, she’d have to stop looking at this one. “Be prepared to eat alone.”

  “I’m used to that.” He raised one hand and walked away.

  His flat response sliced through her. Beneath Mitchell Blake’s tough exterior, was he lonely? Grabbing her mouse, she closed the list of hotels she’d generated.

  Jaye drained a big pot of noodles into Mitch’s sink, turning her face from the cloud of steam. Behind her, the back door squeaked open. The clock hanging above the stove pointed to six-thirty, right on the nose.

  “I thought you’d be in your hotel room by now,” Mitch observed.

  “Turns out, there were no vacancies.” She spooned a mound of rotini on a plain white dinner plate she’d found in his cabinet. “You were right. Every hotel around here is chock full of hunters.”

  The heavy clonk of work boots stopped. “Whoa, what did you say?”

  She looked over her shoulder. “Every hotel around here is—”

  “No, I want to hear what you said before that.” He held up his hand, poking his index finger into the air.

  “Oh.” She rolled her eyes and drawled, “You were right.”

  “Music to my ears,” he murmured. He took off his shoes, placed them under the coat rack, and sat at the kitchen table. “Is your tire fixed?”

  “Yes. Sarah’s brother towed my car, put on a new tire, and gave my car a clean bill of health.” Jaye doused the steaming noodles with a generous ladle of meat sauce. “I’m mobile again.”

  “Good.” Bracing his elbows on the table, he rubbed his hands against his face. The solid breadth of his shoulders slumped.

  To thank him for not gloating about winning their bet, she grated fresh cheese over his food. The scent of melting cheddar wafted into the air. She put the plate in front of him. “To the winner go the spoils. Go ahead and dig in. I’ll join you in a second.”

  He didn’t pick up his fork until she sat across the table. “How far did you look before you found an empty hotel room?”

  “I found one in Buffalo. The drive would’ve taken an hour one way.”

  “If the weather’s good.” He shoveled forkfuls of pasta into his mouth.

  “The receptionist made the same point. I thought about reserving the room, but an hour commute didn’t appeal—even if the hotel did have an indoor swimming pool.” She pushed the pasta around her plate with her fork. “Looks like you’ll have me for a roommate, after all.”

  “I’m looking forward to living with a consultant who’ll cook three gourmet meals every week.”

  “This is hardly gourmet.” She looked up in time to see him lower his fork. “You’re done already?”

  He exhaled, staring at his empty plate. “Dinner was awesome, Jaye. Thank you.”

  She flushed with pleasure, unused to being thanked for what she did. He looked like he wanted to lick off the residual streaks of sauce on his place—the best compliment a cook could receive. “Do you want another serving?”

  “There’s more?” He snatched his plate off the table and reached the stove in two determined strides.

  “Save a little for me, okay? I planned to pack leftovers for lunch tomorrow.”

  “I had no idea consultants ate leftovers.”

  “We’re like everyone else.” She frowned at the heaping serving on his plate. “Did you have lunch today?”

  “Yeah.” He sat and resumed eating. “Why?”

  “I’m surprised you’re so hungry.”

  “I haven’t eaten anything this good in a long time. I’m a rotten cook, so I live on takeout.” His mouth tilted, his bottom lip shiny from the wet pasta. “I couldn’t resist taking you up on your bet. I knew you’d lose, and I figured you could cook better than me. You consultants are a talented group, after all.”

  Jaye’s sigh came out so hard, her bangs fluttered. “You say consultant like you detest the word.”

  He shrugged and kept eating.

  “I know you think hiring a specialist is a waste of time and money, but there’s something else you’re not telling me.” Jaye rested her chin in one hand. “What happened?”

  “You don’t need to know.”

  She squinted. “I think I do, since you call me a consultant.”

  “Don’t screw up my life. That’s all I ask.” He stabbed pasta onto his fork.

  Her cell chimed. She pulled the phone out of her jeans to glance at the screen.

  “It’s lonely without you. I love you, David.”

  Heartache stabbed through her. She slid the phone back into her pocket with a resolute shove. Not wanting Mitch to catch sight of her grief, she stuffed her emotions into the place where she hid everything. That dark corner of her soul was getting crowded. Between David’s betrayals, her father’s weighty expectations, and the inexplicable hopelessness that haunted her, sadness kept bubbling to the surface.

  She straightened her posture. “I read your report today and told Nick some of your suggestions, but he isn’t sold on the idea of expanding the product line. Your father wants to stick with making glasses for a while.”

  “I know.” Mitch shoveled the last forkful into his mouth and leaned back.

  Disappointed she didn’t have better news, Jaye examined her water glass. The stem felt silky. The glass possessed enough sparkle to diffract the dim light leaking from the old fixture dangling above the kitchen table. She tapped the goblet’s smooth rim. “Did you make this?”

  He nodded. “I’m using the prototypes at home for a couple of weeks before I put them into production. If they don’t break here, they’ll hold up anywhere.”

  Whisking her bangs to the side, Jaye frowned. “You test new designs in your kitchen?”

  His blue eyes went glacial. “Have you got a problem with that?”

  “Well, yeah. Most companies put new products through extensive testing programs.”

  The fork clanked against his plate. “I’m a glassblower. I know what glass can do. I’m the only test our stemware needs to pass before we sell a new product.”

  “Maybe, but convincing your father to produce pitchers, bowls, and vases would be easier if you provided data proving a high demand existed for those items.” Jaye leaned forward. “I could help you pull something together.”

  “Not necessary.” A long forefinger pointed at her drinking glass. “There’s always a demand for our products because they look good.”

  “You’re skipping an important piece. Proper market research will—”

  “No amount of research will tell me what’s coming out of my studio.” Two thick forearms braced against the edge of the table. “Or do you know more about glassblowing than I do?”

  “No, of course not.” Geez, this guy wouldn’t let up, would he? “I know marketing. I can help you.”

  “By building a flat, online store to sell my three-dimensiona
l glass.” He gave a shake of his head. “Go ahead. I can see there’s no stopping you. Or my father.”

  “Virtual marketing isn’t flat. We can provide a number of ways for customers to view your products from every angle. Would you like to me send you some links to look at?”

  “Don’t bother.” He picked up his glass and drank the water in three long gulps.

  A twinge of anxiety tightened her upper back. Mitch wanted nothing to do with her project. She folded her hands in her lap to hide the tremble of uncertainty in her fingers. How would they live together, much less work together, if he didn’t want her around? “I wish you wanted me here as much as your father does, but I understand if you don’t. I promise to do everything possible to meet your vision for Blake Glassware, as well as your father’s.”

  Some of the ice melted from his gaze. “Making both my father and I happy will be difficult to accomplish.”

  “I relish the challenge.” She cleared her throat, but the lump of worry remained. “What would you like to eat on Wednesday and Thursday?”

  With one eyebrow raised, he looked at his empty plate. “You’ll make whatever I want?”

  “It’s only fair, considering I’m living here rent free. Besides, I don’t know what you like to eat. You’ll be doing me a favor by taking the guesswork out of what to get at the grocery store.”

  He scratched his chin. “What about lasagna on Wednesday and pork chops on Thursday?”

  “Sounds good.” She stood and reached for her plate.

  Mitch lifted the plate out of her hand. “I don’t know how you city folk work things, but there’s an unspoken rule out here in the country. If a guy is lucky enough to get a meal cooked for him, he cleans up.”

  Jaye watched Mitch carry their dishes to the sink and remembered how David always watched television while she tidied the kitchen. “I like your way better.”

  “Make a lot of lasagna on Wednesday. I don’t know how much you consultants eat, but we glassblowers are hungry at the end of the day.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “I guess I should be grateful you only used that word four times tonight.”

  “Keep cooking like you did tonight, Miss Davis, and I’ll be too busy shoveling food into my mouth to even bother saying the word consultant.”

  “And now we’re up to five.” She sighed, heading into the living room.

  “Stick around while I load the dishwasher.” His rich baritone boomed from the kitchen. “I bet I can get into double digits. Or can’t you consultants take a little ribbing?”

  “Don’t waste your breath,” she responded, walking past the brick fireplace. “I won’t hear you because I’ll be listening to my iPod.”

  “Keep the volume low. I’d hate to see my consultant damage her hearing.”

  “A little deafness appeals to me right now,” she grumbled, navigating past a large blue couch, a nicked coffee table, and a large flat-screen television.

  Even though the living room looked like a college dorm, the foyer brought her to a complete standstill. Beautiful glass inserts bracketed the front door. Light from the front porch lamp shined through, forming slanted rectangles of gold on the gleaming hardwood floor. A faint pine scent lingered in the air. Had Mitch renovated this room? She turned and almost plowed right into his wide chest.

  “You don’t have to stick around, Jaye. My father led you to believe he’d put you in a hotel, not my extra bedroom. You’re smart enough to see he enlisted your help without my support. I’m no consultant, but you’ll have difficulty creating an online store without my help. Why don’t you cut your losses and find someplace else to work?”

  With a lift of her chin, she met his gaze. “I don’t back out of my contracts. Besides, Nick is counting on me to develop a virtual marketing platform. If you don’t like the plan, then you’ll have another issue to resolve with your father.”

  “Another issue?” A deep furrow creased his forehead. “What do you mean?”

  “There’s so much tension between the two of you, I’m surprised Blake Glassware hasn’t imploded. Fixing your relationship will strengthen your business.”

  “Just like a typical consultant.” Mitch dried his hands on a dishtowel with enough force to fling small bits of thread into the air. “You’re no better than the others, looking for problems where they don’t exist.”

  “Having a partner who keeps you out of the loop is a pretty big problem, wouldn’t you agree?” She squeezed past him, which was no easy task. His wide shoulders didn’t leave much wiggle room to get into the hallway.

  “You sound like a psychologist.”

  Coming from him, the observation sounded like a mocking condemnation. She shrugged as though his cynical tone didn’t bother her and walked to her bedroom.

  “I had no idea father-son relationships mattered to a hot-shot marketing consultant.”

  “Okay, you said that word ten times in the past two minutes. You made it into double digits.” She stopped and arched her brow. “Are you happy now?”

  He squared his stance. “Hell, no.”

  “Don’t worry.” She tossed him a playful grin. “I’m a consultant. I’ll solve all your problems.”

  Chapter Five

  “Hey, get out of there!”

  The angry bellow launched three crows into the air, fleeing the gilded meadow with startled squawks. Jaye stopped in her tracks and spotted a man trudging through the knee-high grass. The obstinate set of his powerful shoulders revealed his identity. She walked toward him. “Hello, Mitch.”

  Despite the cold, a sheen of sweat glistened on his brow. He tilted the brim of his baseball cap to shade the glare of the sunrise. “Jaye? What are you doing out here?”

  “You haven’t had coffee yet.” She hitched the camera strap higher on her shoulder. “When you’re decaffeinated, you growl.”

  “Answer my question. What are you doing?”

  She turned to show him the digital SLR hanging from her shoulder. “I’ve been taking pictures.”

  A blue-eyed gaze hit the camera, skipped to her hip, and jerked to her face. “Pictures of what?”

  “Whistle pigs.” With her tripod, she poked the big arm coming out of his T-shirt’s sleeve. “Do you always spy on your employees?”

  “I had no idea you were out here.” With a casual flick of his hand, he gestured to the path of bent grass behind him. “When I carried out the trash from the studio, I saw footprints leading into the meadow. I had to find out who was on my property this early in the morning.”

  She shrugged. “Just me. Didn’t you see my car in the parking lot?”

  “I figured you were inside the factory, not out here.” He gave her dew-soaked jeans a visual examination. “How many whistle pigs did you find?”

  “Two very uncooperative ones. They didn’t like being photographed.”

  “Don’t blame them.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s eight fifteen. How long have you been here?”

  “Since seven. I wanted to watch the sun rise.” The brick walls of the factory glowed a rich rust color in the morning sun. “Oh, wow. Look at how the light is hitting your building. I’d better capture the image before the light shifts.”

  With quick moves, she opened her tripod and set her camera on top.

  “Are you taking pictures for the website?”

  He didn’t sound too happy. She gave him a reassuring grin. “The ones of the factory will be good promotional images.” She looked through the viewfinder, adjusted the settings, and depressed the shutter. “The pictures of the meadow are just for fun.”

  “You consultants have a weird concept of fun.” With a shake of his head, he stepped away. “We glassblowers need to get back to the factory.”

  “Wait a minute, Mitch.” Jaye pointed to a distant mountain bathed in hues of red and gold. “Is there a way to reach that peak?”

  “Yes.” He smoothed a palm down his flat abdomen and hitched his hands on his hips.

  Jaye let out an exasper
ated sigh. “How do I get there?”

  “Turn right out of our parking lot and go five miles. There’s a parking lot at the base of the mountain. You’ll have to hike to the top. Takes six hours…if you’re in shape.” He squinted at the peak. “Are you going now?”

  “Nope. I need to put on dry clothes and get to work.” She snapped the lens cap on her camera, folded the tripod, and resumed walking. Her sneakers were so waterlogged they squeaked like two mice having a conversation. “My new boss gave me very specific instructions, and I intend to stick by them.”

  Mitch’s head turned as she passed by. “What instructions?”

  “He said, ‘Don’t screw up my life.’ Poetic, huh? I’m embroidering the sentiment on a pillow.”

  “You should. Those are words to live by.” His boots thumped behind her. “Your boss sounds brilliant.”

  She shrugged. “Don’t catch him in the morning before he’s had coffee. Without a dose of caffeine, he’s likely to take off your head for something as simple as walking through the meadow.”

  “Give me a break. I thought you were a hunter. Sometimes, they wander into these fields if they’re not familiar with the trails. I don’t want anyone with a loaded gun mistaking one of my employees for a deer.”

  Alarm buzzed up her spine. She stopped at the edge of the parking lot and cast a brief look over her shoulder at the meadow. “A hunter wouldn’t shoot me, right? I’d hardly feed a family of four.”

  Mitch removed his cap and wiped an arm across his brow. “Do you joke about everything?”

  “Only when I’m nervous.”

  “Huh.” He tapped the brim of his cap against his thigh. “What’s bothering you? The hunters nearby—or me?”

  “Both. The possibility I could’ve been shot is frightening. Pair that with a big guy who doesn’t want me around, and I’m a bit on edge.”

  “Then we’re even.” He slid the baseball hat onto his head. “Most people don’t have the guts to stand up to me, but you do. I’m not used to spending time with someone who won’t be pushed around.”

  The solemn line of his mouth broadened into a smile. Jaye couldn’t pull her gaze off the handsome sight. The quiet admiration in his unwavering gaze made her feel as though she was something special…just the way she was.