Blue Mist of Morning (3 page)

"That's nothing new. You refused my last two dinner
invitations, too," Mike retorted, eyeing her speculatively. "Surely
you're not still busy every evening, moonlighting at that dress shop in
the mall?" When Anne shook her head, he grinned. "Why was it so
important for you to earn some extra money? Were you saving for a down
payment on a fancy car or something?"

"Not exactly," Anne evaded. "But as I said, I don't work
there anymore. My promotion meant a raise in salary, so I don't have to
moonlight, although I actually enjoyed working in the dress shop. It
was fun."

"I wouldn't call it fun to work every evening," Mike
declared wryly. "I can think of better things to do with my free time.
And now that you have your evenings free, what do you do?"

"Relax. Read. Go out with friends," Anne told him. "I can
always find something interesting to do with my time."

"And I guess you must be able to go see your mother more
often now, too? How is she? And your sisters? Did you ever manage to
convince the older one to start college?"

Nodding, Anne breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief. "Yes, I
finally persuaded her. She started in January and really enjoys going.
And her grades are very good."

Before Mike could speak again, footsteps descending the
stairs claimed his attention. Both he and Anne watched as Ty Manning
came toward them. Anne's eyes widened slightly. He was dressed more
casually than she had ever seen him dress. In jeans and a faded denim
shirt, he looked younger and somehow less intimidating. Even so, she
gave him a cautious smile as he walked past the deacon's bench, opened
the door to the closet beneath the staircase and brought out a brown
leather car coat. He returned her smile absently as he put on the coat.
"I should be back with our luggage in about fifteen minutes," was all
he said before he strode away toward the front door.

He was pulling the door closed behind him when Ellie
returned from the kitchen. Without undue ceremony, she ushered Anne and
Mike upstairs along a wide, carpeted hallway, stopping to open the
second door on the right.

Anne's room was delightful. Pecan-paneled, with plush
apricot carpeting and apricot-sprigged muslin curtains that matched the
bedspread on the huge mahogany four-poster, it was warm yet spacious.
Ellie pointed out the door to the adjoining bathroom, and after she
left to show Mike to his room, Anne happily stripped off her clothes
and treated herself to a warming bath.

Twenty minutes later, relaxed after a soak in the hot
scented water, she left the bathroom, wrapped in a huge body towel.
Finding her suitcase had been placed on the wooden chest at the foot of
the bed, she shed the towel, shivering slightly as she slipped into her
bra and panties. Taking her cue from Ty's casual attire, she put on
jeans also and a soft ivory velour shirt. As she stepped into
comfortable suede espadrilles, she tried once more to confine that
wayward tendril of hair, but it was a futile effort. As the silken
strand fell forward again to tickle her cheek, she shook her head and
left the room, then drew in a sharp, startled breath as she nearly
collided with Ty who was about to enter the room directly across the
hall from hers.

They both stopped short. Anne grimaced apologetically.
"This just isn't my day. Sorry," she said softly, lifting her eyes to
meet the clear blue of his.

He didn't answer. Eyes narrowing, his gaze drifted slowly
over the alluring, distinctly feminine curves of her body, covered, but
not concealed, by the jeans and velour shirt. Anne tensed under his
slow examination, wondering what on earth he could possibly find so
interesting about her appearance.

After several long seconds of Ty's intent scrutiny, Anne's
skin began to tingle with uncomfortable warmth. Luckily, before a
revealing blush could actually flare in her cheeks, a sudden commotion
downstairs claimed Ty's attention.

"Ty, oh, Ty darling," an unpleasantly strident female
voice called out. "You're not hurt, are you? We saw the Mercedes in the
ditch on our way up here. What in the world happened?"

"Obviously Kirt decided to bring Millicent Beaumont along
for the weekend," Ty said unnecessarily, turning back to look at Anne
again. "Shall we go down together?"

"I… well, no, I've forgotten something," she
answered haltingly. "But I'll be down in a few minutes." When he nodded
perfunctorily and left her, she hurried back into her room, hastily
pulling her shirt off over her head. Convinced Ty had been staring at
her because he didn't think jeans were appropriate attire for an
executive secretary, she changed to a neat black skirt and white
blouse, then replaced the espadrilles with low-heeled black kid pumps.

Sitting down at the vanity, she checked the neatness of
the golden coil of hair on her nape, then wrinkled her nose at her
reflection in the oval mirror. She wasn't looking forward to the
weekend. Millicent Beamont and Kirt Callen weren't her favorite people.
She had dealt with Millicent on two occasions in the office, and the
woman had always assumed a cool, supercilious demeanor, almost to the
point of being snobbish. Tremendously wealthy and active in Washington
D.C.'s highest social circles, she seemed to think herself too fine to
be friendly to a mere secretary. Separated from her husband, she
flitted from one high-society partner to another. Kirt Callen was a
fellow member of the elite, so it wasn't surprising that they were
together this weekend, though Anne wondered if Millicent might be more
interested in Ty Manning than in Kirt. Still, she didn't really dread
the weekend because of Millicent Beaumont. Her snobbishness wasn't
unduly upsetting.

Anne's dislike of Kirt Callen, however, had nothing to do
with snobbery. At first glance, he seemed charming, but it didn't take
a great deal of perception to soon realize that his ego was as huge as
the grand mansion his father had left him. And he was far too inclined
to play up his swinging playboy image. Worse yet, he had wandering
hands. Any reasonably attractive female in his vicinity was potential
prey. He touched hands, cheek, hair, shoulders and arms with blatant
audacity. And when he was being particularly macho, he would brush his
body against his victim with self-confident insistence, while smiling
down into her eyes as if he thought she should be grateful for his
attention. To some, his charm and wealth might appeal, but to Anne he
seemed like a fraud. She wasn't fooled by him.

Actually, she disliked him. Although he rarely tried to
touch her anymore, because she had once deliberately kicked his shin,
she still had no respect for him. Millicent's snobbishness she could
tolerate, but Kirt's playboy act irked her. He was the main reason she
dreaded the weekend. But business was business. Since Ty handled all
Callen's vast property holdings and investments, meetings with him were
usually long and Anne's presence was necessary.

Grimacing at the thought of Kirt's wandering hands, Anne
got up from the vanity, knowing she couldn't hide in her room forever.
She observed herself critically in the cheval glass. Surely, even Ty
Manning would agree she looked suitably demure now. When she really
dressed up, she knew she could look quite attractive, but in this dark
skirt and blouse, she looked just plain average. Stepping closer to the
mirror, she shrugged resignedly, never realizing that her creamy ivory
complexion, her wide gray eyes framed by thick, long lashes, the soft,
full shape of her mouth and the healthy sheen of her honey-gold hair
gave her a simple, cameo-like loveliness.

Squaring her shoulders resolutely, she left her room and
slowly descended the steps, telling herself she would kick Kirt Callen
again if he once tried to corner her during the weekend. Pausing at the
foot of the stairs, she heard voices beyond the double doors to the
right and went to open them, assuming she was entering the living room.
And it was the living room, but one like she had never before seen.
Circular, almost completely enclosed in double-paned glass, it was
surrounded by the snow-covered evergreens and bare oaks outside.
Stepping onto the thick forest-green carpet was almost like stepping
out into the woods. Yet, snow was falling outside and the wind was
swaying the trees, while inside, in the huge stone fireplace, a roaring
blaze provided a homey warmth. The room was simply furnished with
antiques and comfortable velvet-covered sofas and chairs in subdued
colors of cream and pale gold. Brighter accents were provided by brass
and pewter objets d'art and beautiful enameled vases.

Millicent Beamont was poised attractively on one cream
sofa, which was a perfect foil for her exotic dark beauty. To further
accentuate her dark tan, she wore a white cashmere dress, undoubtedly a
designer original. At the moment, she was idly stroking the heavy gold
chains she wore around her neck, while swinging one foot, elegantly
shod in snakeskin pumps. She was a beautiful woman with thick chestnut
hair, a voluptuous figure and slanted green eyes that were presently
gleaming with appreciation as she watched Ty.

He, Mike and Kirt Callen were standing by the mahogany
bar, and as Anne took another step forward, Ty glanced up and saw her.
His brows lifted questioningly as he subjected her to another lingering
gaze, but before she could try to interpret the look he gave her,
Millicent spied her, too.

"Hello, Miss Fairfax," she drawled, her upper lip curling
slightly.

"My name is Fairchild, Anne Fairchild, Mrs. Beaumont,"
Anne responded politely, completely ignoring the woman's cool,
supercilious manner. "How are you?"

"Rather chilly, actually," Millicent said, smoothing her
hair. "I certainly didn't expect to run into snow up here, or I would
have insisted we hold this meeting someplace else. I can't stand snow,
you know."

Anne didn't know and didn't much care but she smiled
softly and rested her slender hands on the back of an unoccupied chair.
Wondering if the business discussion had already begun, she glanced at
Ty, who was still clad in his jeans and denim shirt. As he reached
across the bar for a cut-glass tumbler, the muscles of his shoulders
tautened the denim fabric, and Anne noticed with inward amusement that
Millicent Beaumont seemed fascinated by the sight. But her amusement
vanished immediately when Ty turned and met her eyes. He held up the
tumbler.

"What would you like to drink, Anne?"

Anne
? Her former boss at Manning had
always called her Anne, but Ty had consistently called her Miss
Fairchild. Until now. And there was something oddly disconcerting in
hearing his deep, melodious voice saying her first name. She masked
that unreasonable reaction, however, and answered, "Ginger ale would be
fine, thank you."

"Anne, my dear, you look beautiful as usual," Kirt Callen
declared, making a beeline for her. His darkly tanned face broke into a
smile that didn't impress her in the slightest. She stiffened as he
approached and had to fight down the desire to sidestep him and walk
away. When he lifted one of her slender hands off the back of the chair
and held it tightly between both of his, she tried to extract it
immediately, but he simply tightened his hold and squeezed her fingers.
Finding it impossible to even force a smile, she merely inclined her
head in greeting. "Good evening, Mr. Callen," she managed to say
politely. "How are you?"

"Superb," he answered, looking her over from head to foot
with unabashed intensity. "Especially now that you've joined us."

Ignoring that ridiculous statement, Anne tried to free her
hand again, and her gray eyes glittered with impatience when he simply
squeezed her fingers again, slowly and suggestively this time. Her
impatience only seemed to amuse him, so she assumed a bland
expression, hoping feigned indifference would gain her release. It
didn't. Callen held onto her hand tenaciously.

Though he wasn't particularly tall or muscular, he was so
blatantly aggressive that Anne was uneasy around him. And he was
devious. Touching only her hand, he had placed her in a position where
she would look foolish if she did anything drastic to make him release
her. Certainly, she couldn't kick his shin again, though she ached to
do so.

Glancing at Millicent, she found the other woman watching
the scene with total indifference, then looking down at her
mauve-tipped fingernails with considerably more interest. Obviously,
the fact that she had accompanied Kirt up here for the weekend didn't
mean there was anything serious between them, because Millicent didn't
seem to care one whit that Kirt was silently propositioning Anne right
before her eyes.

Anne cared, however. Though Kirt Callen had only been
holding her hand about half a minute, the time seemed longer, and she
was feeling more uncomfortable by the second. Looking across the room,
she tried to catch Mike's eye, but he was too busy spearing an olive
for his martini to notice her. Then, beside him, Ty looked up and met
her rather wide-eyed gaze. To her surprise, he seemed to read it
correctly.

Picking up the glass of ginger ale he had just poured for
her, he strode across the room, flicking a cold glance at Kirt Callen.
"Here's your drink, Anne," he said quietly, taking her arm as she gave
him a grateful little smile. Drawing her gently out of Callen's grasp,
he escorted her around the chair. "Wouldn't you like to sit down?"

Composed again, now that she had been rescued, she nodded
and settled herself in the cream-colored velvet wing chair. Thanking
him for the drink, she took it and had a sip, watching over the rim of
the glass as he walked to the stone fireplace, opened the mesh screen,
and tossed in another log. After positioning the new log with a poker,
he propped one elbow on the stone mantel. Crossing his long, powerful
legs at the ankle, he leaned comfortably on the mantel while surveying
the living room.