Local Hero (4 page)

“Maybe, but I haven't done anything that's made me feel that good in a long time.” He wasn't completely at ease himself, Mitch discovered, and he tucked his thumbs into the back pockets of his jeans. “You work fast,” he commented as he glanced around the living room.

The boxes were gone. Bright, vivid prints hung on the walls and a vase of flowers, fresh as morning, sat near the window, where sheer curtains filtered the light. Pillows were plumped, furniture gleamed. The only signs of confusion were a miniature car wreck and a few plastic men scattered on the carpet. He was glad to see them. It meant she wasn't the type who expected the boy to play only in his room.

“Dali?” He walked over to a lithograph hung over the sofa.

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth as Mitch studied one of her rare extravagances. “I bought that in a little shop on Fifth that's always going out of business.”

“Yeah, I know the one. It didn't take you long to put things together here.”

“I wanted everything back to normal as soon as possible. The move wasn't easy for Radley.”

“And you?” He turned then, catching her off guard with the sudden sharp look.

“Me? I—ah . . .”

“You know,” he began as he crossed over to her, attracted by her simple bafflement. “You're a lot more articulate when you talk about Rad than you are when you talk about Hester.”

She stepped back quickly, aware that he would have touched her and totally unsure what her reaction might have been. “I should start dinner.”

“Want some help?”

“With what?”

This time she didn't move quickly enough. He cupped her chin in his hand and smiled. “With dinner.”

It had been a long time since a man had touched her that way. He had a strong hand with gentle fingers. That had to be the reason her heart leaped up to her throat and pounded there. “Can you cook?”

What incredible eyes she had. So clear, so pale a gray they were almost translucent. For the first time in years he felt the urge to paint, just to see if he could bring those eyes to life on canvas. “I make a hell of a peanut butter sandwich.”

She lifted a hand to his wrist, to move his away, she thought. But her fingers lay there lightly a moment, experimenting. “How are you at chopping vegetables?”

“I think I can handle it.”

“All right, then.” She backed up, amazed that she had allowed the contact to go for so long. “I still don't have any beer, but I do have some wine this time.”

“Fine.” What the hell were they talking about? Why were they talking at all, when she had a mouth that was made to fit on a man's? A little baffled by his own train of thought, he followed her into the kitchen.

“It's really a simple meal,” she began. “But when it's all mixed up, Radley hardly notices he's eating something nutritious. A Twinkie's the true way to his heart.”

“My kind of kid.”

She smiled a little, more relaxed now that she had her hands full. She set celery and mushrooms on the chopping block. “The trick's in moderation.” Hester took the chicken out, then remembered the wine. “I'm willing to concede to Rad's sweet tooth in small doses. He's willing to accept broccoli on the same terms.”

“Sounds like a wise arrangement.” She opened the wine. Inexpensive, he thought with a glance at the label, but palatable. She filled two glasses, then handed him one. It was silly, but her hands were damp again. It had been some time since she'd shared a bottle of wine or fixed a simple dinner with a man. “To neighbors,” he said, and thought she relaxed fractionally as he touched his glass to hers.

“Why don't you sit down while I bone the chicken? Then you can deal with the vegetables.”

He didn't sit, but did lean back against the counter. He wasn't willing to give her the distance he was sure she wanted. Not when she smelled so good. She handled the knife like an expert, he noted as he sipped his wine. Impressive. Most of the career women he knew were more experienced in takeouts. “So, how's the new job?”

Hester moved her shoulders. “It's working out well. The manager's a stickler for efficiency, and that trickles down. Rad and I have been having conferences all week so we can compare notes.”

Was that what they'd been talking about when they'd walked home today? he wondered. Was that why she'd laughed? “How's Radley taking the new school?”

“Amazingly well.” Her lips softened and curved again. He was tempted to touch a fingertip to them to feel the movement. “Whatever happens in Rad's life, he rolls with. He's incredible.”

There was a shadow there, a slight one, but he could see it in her eyes. “Divorce is tough,” he said, and watched Hester freeze up.

“Yes.” She put the boned and cubed chicken in a bowl. “You can chop this while I start the rice.”

“Sure.” No trespassing, he thought, and let it drop. For now. He'd gone with the law of averages when he'd mentioned divorce, and realized he'd been on the mark. But the mark was still raw. Unless he missed his guess, the divorce had been a lot tougher on her than on Radley. He was also sure that if he wanted to draw her out, it would have to be through the boy. “Rad mentioned that he wanted to come down and visit, but you'd put him off.”

Hester handed Mitch an onion before she put a pan on the stove. “I didn't want him disturbing your work.”

“We both know what you think of my work.”

“I had no intention of offending you the other night,” she said stiffly. “It was only that—”

“You can't conceive of a grown man making a living writing comic books.”

Hester remained silent as she measured out water. “It's none of my business how you make your living.”

“That's right.” Mitch took a long sip of wine before he attacked the celery. “In any case, I want you to know that Rad can come see me whenever he likes.”

“That's very nice of you, but—”

“No buts, Hester. I like him. And since I'm in the position of calling my own hours, he won't bother me. What do I do with the mushrooms?”

“Slice.” She put the lid on the rice before crossing over to show him. “Not too thin. Just make sure . . .” Her words trailed off when he closed his hand over hers on the knife.

“Like this?” The move was easy. He didn't even have to think about it, but simply shifted until she was trapped between his arms, her back pressed against him. Giving in to the urge, he bent down so that his mouth was close to her ear.

“Yes, that's fine.” She stared down at their joined hands and tried to keep her voice even. “It really doesn't matter.”

“We aim to please.”

“I have to put on the chicken.” She turned and found herself in deeper water. It was a mistake to look up at him, to see that slight smile on his lips and that calm, confident look in his eyes. Instinctively she lifted a hand to his chest. Even that was a mistake. She could feel the slow, steady beat of his heart. She couldn't back up, because there was no place to go, and stepping forward was tempting, dangerously so. “Mitch, you're in my way.”

He'd seen it. Though it had been free briefly and suppressed quickly, he'd seen the passion come into her eyes. So she could feel and want and wonder. Maybe it was best if they both wondered a little while longer. “I think you're going to find that happening a lot.” But he shifted aside and let her pass. “You smell good, Hester, damn good.”

That quiet statement did nothing to ease her pulse rate. Humoring Radley or not, she vowed this would be the last time she entertained Mitch Dempsey. Hester turned on the gas under the wok and added peanut oil. “I take it you do your work at home, then. No office?”

He'd let her have it her way for the time being. The minute she'd turned in his arms and looked up at him, he'd known he'd have it his way—have her his way—before too long. “I only have to go a couple of times a week. Some of the writers or artists prefer working in the office. I do better work at home. After I have the story and the sketches, I take them in for editing and inking.”

“I see. So you don't do the inking yourself?” she asked, though she'd have been hard-pressed to define what inking was. She'd have to ask Radley.

“Not anymore. We have some real experts in that, and it gives me more time to work on the story. Believe it or not, we shoot for quality, the kind of vocabulary that challenges a kid and a story that entertains.”

After adding chicken to the hot oil, Hester took a deep breath. “I really do apologize for anything I said that offended you. I'm sure your work's very important to you, and I know Radley certainly appreciates it.”

“Well said, Mrs. Wallace.” He slid the vegetable-laden chopping block toward her.

“Josh doesn't believe it.” Radley bounced into the room, delighted with himself. “He wants to come over tomorrow and see. Can he? His mom says okay if it's okay with you. Okay, Mom?”

Hester turned from the chicken long enough to give Radley a hug. “Okay, Rad, but it has to be after noon. We have some shopping to do in the morning.”

“Thanks. Just wait till he sees. He's gonna go crazy. I'll tell him.”

“Dinner's nearly ready. Hurry up and wash your hands.”

Radley rolled his eyes at Mitch as he raced from the room again.

“You're a big hit,” Hester commented.

“He's nuts about you.”

“The feeling's mutual.”

“So I noticed.” Mitch topped off his wine. “You know, I was curious. I always thought bankers kept bankers' hours. You and Rad don't get home until five or so.” When she turned her head to look at him, he merely smiled. “Some of my windows face the front. I like to watch people going in and out.”

It gave her an odd and not entirely comfortable feeling to know he'd watched her walk home. Hester dumped the vegetables in and stirred. “I get off at four, but then I have to pick Rad up from the sitter.” She glanced over her shoulder again. “He hates it when I call her a sitter. Anyway, she's over by our old place, so it takes awhile. I have to start looking for someone closer.”

“A lot of kids his age and younger come home on their own.”

Her eyes did go smoky, he noted. All she needed was a touch of anger. Or passion. “Radley isn't going to be a latchkey child. He isn't coming home to an empty house because I have to work.”

Mitch set her glass by her elbow. “Coming home to empty can be depressing,” he murmured, remembering his own experiences. “He's lucky to have you.”

“I'm luckier to have him.” Her tone softened. “If you'd get out the plates, I'll dish this up.”

Mitch remembered where she kept her plates, white ones with little violet sprigs along the edges. It was odd to realize they pleased him when he'd become so accustomed to disposable plastic. He took them out, then set them beside her. Most things were best done on impulse, he'd always thought. He went with the feeling now.

“I guess it would be a lot easier on Rad if he could come back here after school.”

“Oh, yes. I hate having to drag him across town, though he's awfully good about it. It's just so hard to find someone you can trust and who Radley really likes.”

“How about me?”

Hester reached to turn off the gas but stopped to stare at him. Vegetables and chicken popped in hot oil. “I'm sorry?”

“Rad could stay with me in the afternoons.” Again Mitch put a hand over hers, this time to turn off the heat. “He'd only be a couple floors away from his own place.”

“With you? No, I couldn't.”

“Why not?” The more he thought of it, the more Mitch liked the idea. He and Taz could use the company in the afternoons, and as a bonus, he'd be seeing a lot more of the very interesting Mrs. Wallace. “You want references? No criminal record, Hester. Well, there was the case of my motorcycle and the prize roses, but I was only eighteen.”

“I didn't mean that—exactly.” When he grinned, she began to fuss with the rice. “I mean I couldn't impose that way. I'm sure you're busy.”

“Come on, you don't think I do anything all day but doodle. Let's be honest.”

“We've already agreed it isn't any of my business,” she began.

“Exactly. The point is I'm home in the afternoons, I'm available, and I'm willing. Besides, I may even be able to use Rad as a consultant. He's good, you know.” Mitch indicated the drawing on the refrigerator. “The kid could use some art lessons.”

“I know. I was hoping I'd be able to swing it this summer, but I don't—”

“Want to look a gift horse in the mouth,” Mitch finished. “Look, the kid likes me; I like him. And I'll swear to no more than one Twinkie an afternoon.”

She laughed then, as he'd seen her laugh a few hours before from his window. It wasn't easy to hold himself back, but something told him if he made a move now, the door would slam in his face and the bolt would slide shut. “I don't know, Mitch. I do appreciate the offer, God knows it would make things easier, but I'm not sure you understand what you're asking for.”

“I hasten to point out that I was once a small boy.” He wanted to do it, he discovered. It was more than a gesture or impulse; he really wanted to have the kid around. “Look, why don't we put this to a vote and ask Rad?”

“Ask me what?” Radley had run some water over his hands after he'd finished talking to Josh, and figured his mother was too busy to give them a close look.

Mitch picked up his wine, then lifted a brow. My ball, Hester thought. She could have put the child off, but she'd always prided herself on being honest with him. “Mitch was just suggesting that you might like to stay with him after school in the afternoons instead of going over to Mrs. Cohen's.”

“Really?” Astonishment and excitement warred until he was bouncing with both. “Really, can I?”