Mary Baxter - Sultry

When Cooper had first mentioned that to him, Peter had almost laughed in his face. “I mean no disrespect, sir, but people don’t arrange marriages anymore, not even in the South.”

“That’s not at all what I had in mind, young man.” Cooper’s tone was cold and condescending. “If you’re interested in my daughter, then it’s up to you to make her fall in love with you.”

Love? Hell, he hadn’t cared about that. But if that was what it would take to feather his own nest, then so be it.

“Why is that so important to you, sir?”

“I think it’s time she settled down and had a family of her own.”

“Don’t you think she’s capable of handling that on her own?”

“No, I don’t,” Cooper replied, his tone remaining cold.

“So what’s in it for me?” Peter asked bluntly, thinking, what did he have to lose? Besides, from where he stood, he seemed to be in the driver’s seat. This man wanted something from him. And nothing came free—at least, not as far as he was concerned. He might as well get that straight right up front.

“Let’s just say I’ll make it more than worth your while.”

“Can you be more specific?”

Cooper’s face turned unnaturally red. “Even though you’re from good stock, you lack manners, boy.”

Peter didn’t so much as flinch. “What I lack, sir, is cash.”

“Once you’re married to my daughter, your money woes will be past history. Is that plain enough?”

“Absolutely.”

Immediately after that chat with Cooper, he had upped his pursuit of Lindsay. To date, however, he’d made little headway. The road had been much rockier than he’d anticipated.

Lindsay had a hard shell around her that he hadn’t been able to crack. And he was getting disgusted. But Cooper wanted them married. His mother wanted them married.

Somehow he had to convince Lindsay that she wanted to be married. To him.

That thought was still uppermost in his mind when he left the bank and stopped by the Newman mansion. He was getting out of his vehicle, parked behind Lindsay’s in the circular drive, when she bounded out the front door.

He watched as a look of displeasure changed her features. Though anger surged through him, Peter managed to hang on to his control. “Hey, where are you going in such a hurry?”

“To the shelter.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Not an urgent one, no.”

It was her aloof and somewhat patronizing attitude that irked him, made him want to shake her. “Then don’t go. I’d like to take you to dinner.”

“Sorry, I can’t.”

“Can’t—or won’t?”

Her lips twisted. “Look, Peter, don’t start, okay?”

“Fine. Another time.”

Lindsay gave him a weak smile before getting into her car and driving off. He turned and rang the doorbell. Moments later, Dolly showed him into the parlor, where Cooper was indulging in a before-dinner drink.

“Ah, Peter, it’s good to see you. Come on in and have a seat.”

“Thanks,” Peter said, forcing his voice back into its normal range. He was still smarting from the cold shoulder that Lindsay had given him.

“Care for a drink?” Cooper asked. “You look like you could use it.”

“In the worst way.”

“Feel free to help yourself.”

Peter nodded, then made his way to the small bar, where he poured himself a stiff drink. He took a healthy swig of it before he sat across from Cooper, who was watching him with raised eyebrows and a displeased expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“This hasn’t been one of my best days.”

“We all have them,” Cooper responded in an impatient and dismissive tone.

Peter knew where Lindsay got her holier-than-thou attitude, but that didn’t make dealing with it any easier. And if the truth were known, he knew he was guilty of the same behavior, though the loss of money and status had tempered him.

“What’s the deal with Lindsay?” he asked.

Cooper’s body stiffened, but he didn’t sidestep the question. “I wish the hell I knew.”

“She acts as if I’m contagious, or something worse.”

“Then it’s up to you to change that.”

Peter almost strangled on his sip of vodka. “What do you think I’ve been doing? Hell, Cooper, I don’t even think she likes me.”

“She doesn’t know what she likes right now.” Cooper scowled. “She’s on this bloody crusade to save all the battered women and their children in Garnet.”

“Great.”

“Only I’m not standing for it, and I told her so.”

“Do you think she’ll mind you?” Peter knew he was being glib, if not disrespectful, but he didn’t care. He was about at his wits’ end, trying to woo Lindsay. But he couldn’t afford to give up. He didn’t have that luxury.

“In the end, she’ll come around,” Cooper said. “She’ll do like she’s told.”

“I’m counting on that.”

“But you have to do your part, you know. Make her want you.”

“I’m aware of that,” Peter snapped, “but for some reason, Lindsay remains immune to my charm.”

“I may be partly responsible for that. I’ve given her a grace period.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I’ve backed off from demanding she set a wedding date.”

Peter gave him an incredulous look. “Do you think that’s wise?”

“Yes,” Cooper said in a self-assured tone. “I know how to work my daughter.”

Peter shrugged.

“But in the end, I’ll have my way. She will marry you.”

“Works for me,” Peter quipped, then finished off his drink. “I can’t wait to be a kept man.”

Mitch squeezed the phone receiver so tightly that he felt the pressure on his knuckles. If he weren’t careful, he would break them. And for what—because his ex-wife had called him?

Hell, he didn’t need this aggravation, but short of hanging up on her, he didn’t have much choice. All the more reason why he should not have answered his phone.

Why had he?

“So what’s up, Wendy?” He tried to hold his irritation to a minimum, but wasn’t sure he’d pulled it off.

“Nothing, really.”

He blew out a harsh breath, then forced himself to ask, “So how’ve you been?”

“Not so good, Mitch.”

He wasn’t about to ask her to elaborate. Experience had taught him that. If he dared show any sympathy whatsoever, she took advantage.

“I still miss you lots.”

“Your ploy won’t work, Wendy. For your own sake, you’ve got to stop fanning the embers. They’re stone cold.”

“I refuse to believe that,” she wailed.

“Where’s your husband, Wendy?” he asked in a tired voice. “You are still married, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to call me.”

She hiccuped.

“Ah, I get it. You’re drinking.”

“I see you haven’t changed,” she said, her voice now tainted with unsuppressed venom.

“Look, I’m going to hang up before we both say things we’ll be sorry for. Take care of yourself.”

Once he was off the phone, Mitch felt as if he’d been beaten with a wet rope. Did one’s ex ever completely disappear? He was beginning to think not, though he hadn’t heard from Wendy in quite some time, not since she’d remarried. Apparently that marriage had also gone sour. He hated that, but it had nothing to do with him.

Women. His best recourse was to avoid them, period. Except, maybe, for Lindsay Newman.

An expletive colored the air as Mitch made his way to the sink, where he placed his empty glass. He had to forget her. But how could he, when she kept popping up at the most unexpected times?

What was going on? Were those encounters an accident? Or were they accidentally on purpose? He didn’t have a clue, nor did he want one. Nor did he want to think about her with another man. He would guess she probably had to beat men off with a stick.