Emily and the Stranger (15 page)

When dawn broke, spreading a thin coat of pale pink across the horizon, Emily slept in Mitch's arms, there on the chaise longue. Safe. Secure. Cherished.

And finally, Mitch slept, too. Hopeful for the future for the first time in a long time.

Chapter 8

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E
mily stood in the doorway looking at the destruction in her living room. Somehow it appeared even worse in the cold, hard light of day. She had decorated this room with the same loving attention with which she had decorated the entire cottage. The project had helped save her sanity in the days after Stuart's death and her recuperation from the surgeries. Almost everything could be replaced, even the pair of Staffordshire dogs that Grammy had given her as a Christmas gift. But the replacements would never be the same.

Turning around and leaving the wreckage behind her, Emily made her way to the kitchen, where fresh coffee was brewing. She'd set the machine shortly after Mitch had left to run home for a shower and shave. She poured herself a mug of Southern Pecan coffee, then nudged open the back door and went out onto the porch that wrapped all the way around the cottage.

As she strolled along the porch, Emily's thoughts returned to last night. To the anger and fear she'd experienced when she realized someone had broken into her home. To the desperate need to protect herself and to punish the culprit. And to the sense of safety and peace she'd found throughout the night as she lay in Mitch's arms.

Come what may, she didn't have to face it alone. Whoever was behind the phone calls, the notes, this break-in, they would have to bear Mitch's wrath. No matter what lay ahead, Mitch would be at her side. Mitch would help her find out who had broken into her home, and Mitch would make sure…

Mitch. Mitch. Mitch. Emily sat down in the wooden rocker on the side porch, sipping her coffee and smiling. She had been falling for the man since the day they met, but last night she had toppled over the edge and fallen head over heels in love with him. She'd never known the feelings she experienced during the hours they sat together, his arms draped lovingly around her, the two of them alone on her chaise longue. His understanding, his comfort, his gentle care had taught her that she could give her heart to this man and he would cherish it. She could trust Mitch. She could count on him to be there for her.

When other men might have pressured her for sex, when other men might have taken advantage of her vulnerability last night, Mitch had known exactly what to say and do to help her through the traumatic experience. His every thought had been for her happiness and well-being. In her heart of hearts, she knew the day would come when she would trust Mitch enough to show him her back, and he would not turn away from her.

For the first time in five long years, she had hope for the future—a future with Mitch.

When Emily heard the car coming up the drive, she stood and walked down the steps to meet her best friend. Nikki ran up the stepping-stones walkway that led from the drive to the porch. Throwing her arms around Emily, Nikki hugged her close.

"Thank God, you're all right. When Mitch phoned this morning to tell me what had happened, I wanted to strangle the SOB who broke into your house. The police are going to have to do something. This has gone beyond phone calls and letters!"

Emily led Nikki up the steps and onto the porch. "Calm down. The police have no evidence against anyone. They can hardly arrest someone without proof of guilt."

"They need to question Charles Tolbert and maybe even Rod Simmons."

"I can't believe either of them would break into my home and cause all this destruction," Emily said. "I could possibly see either one of them making the phone calls or writing the letters, but not wreaking havoc in my house."

"Then who?" Nikki asked.

"I don't know."

Nikki glanced toward the front door. "Is Mitch still at his house? When I talked to him he told me that he'd spent the night here with you."

With her arm draped through Nikki's, Emily led her around the porch. "We didn't sleep together last night, if that's what you're wondering. Well, actually we did, but we didn't do anything. Well, we did. We talked. But nothing happened. No, that's not true, either. Something did happen."

Grabbing Emily by the shoulders, Nikki shook her. "Stop babbling. You're not making any sense."

Emily smiled. "Mitch held me in his arms all night. We lay on the chaise in my bedroom. We talked and talked. Well, mostly I talked and Mitch listened. And we fell asleep like that."

Nikki released her hold on Emily, shaking her head from side to side. "You're in love with him, aren't you? I mean all the way in love with him."

"Yes, I am."

"Oh, Em. Did y'all get around to confessing your secrets to each other last night, the way you told me y'all were going to do?"

"After the break-in, last night didn't seem the appropriate time." Emily led Nikki into the kitchen. "He's coming back over for breakfast. I was going to clean up the mess in the living room, but Mitch said my insurance agent wouldn't want us to bother anything until the adjuster came out and took a look at the damage."

Nikki pulled down a mug from the rack hanging beneath one of the white cabinets and poured herself a cup of coffee, then added two teaspoons of sugar. "Em, I want you to promise me that you'll tell Mitch about what happened to you. About being burned in the fire that killed Stuart. And ask him about his past. You need to know."

"Nikki, I don't understand why you've been so persistent about my telling Mitch about my past and about my finding out every detail of his life. After all, what difference does it make? I'm in love with him, no matter what sort of life he lived before we met."

"What if he's—"

Mitch knocked at the back door. Nikki jumped. Emily turned and smiled. He opened the door and walked into the kitchen.

"Good morning again." Slipping his arm around Emily's waist, he pulled her close and kissed her cheek. He turned and smiled at Nikki. "Hi, Nikki. Are you having breakfast with us?"

"Uh … I don't know." Nikki widened her eyes in a questioning pose as she looked at Emily.

"Yes, she's having breakfast with us." Emily opened the refrigerator, pulled out a carton of eggs and handed it to Mitch. "You promised to fix me an omelette."

"So I did." Mitch took the eggs, then told Emily what other ingredients he'd need to prepare his one and only culinary specialty—a western omelette.

All the while he was showing Emily how proficient he was in the kitchen, he felt Nikki watching him, her hazel eyes filled with a look that Mitch finally decided was suspicion. Why was Nikki Griffin suspicious of him? Had she figured out who he was? If so, why hadn't she told Emily?

During breakfast and the cleanup following, Emily didn't seem to notice how oddly her friend was behaving, but Mitch was well aware of Nikki's scrutiny. He realized that he couldn't put off telling Emily the truth. If he didn't tell her first, and if Nikki did know, she was sure to tell her.

"Let's take our coffee and go out on the porch," Emily said. "It's a perfect day for sitting outside."

"I can't stay." Nikki grabbed her purse off the countertop. "You two need some privacy to talk."

"You just got here," Emily said.

"What do you think Emily and I need to talk about?" Mitch asked.

"Oh, Nikki's got herself in a snit because we still don't know a lot about each other," Emily said. "She's worried about me because she doesn't trust men and she's not sure I should trust you."

"Em, could I talk to Mitch for a few minutes? Alone?" Nikki asked, then tossed her purse on the table.

"Oh, for goodness sakes. First you're leaving so Mitch and I can talk and now you're staying to talk to him yourself." Emily threw up her hands in disgust, then lifted her coffee mug and stood. "I'll go sit on the porch and rock and look at the bay, but you make this little talk quick and don't you dare say anything unkind to Mitch."

The moment the back door closed behind Emily, Nikki turned to Mitch, who still sat at the kitchen table. "Your name isn't Ray Mitchell, is it? You're M. R. Hayden, the guy who owned half of Styles and Hayden Construction Company."

Mitch's stomach clenched; a sour taste coated his tongue. This was what he'd feared—that someone else would find out his true identity before he revealed himself to Emily. "How long have you known?"

"Fowler
Jordan
came to my house late last night. It seems that when Emily mentioned you to him, that you were her neighbor and she liked you—liked you a lot—Fowler hired a private investigator to find out about you. It didn't take the PI long to discover who you really are. Just a few phone calls. The guy brought Fowler his report last night and then Fowler came to see me."

"My God, is he in the habit of having every man Emily meets investigated?"

"There haven't been any men in Emily's life since Stuart died. Unless you count Charles Tolbert. And Fowler handpicked Charles for Emily. Your coming into Emily's life sort of messed up Fowler's plans."

"Why would
Jordan
come to you?" Mitch asked. "I thought Emily said that he didn't like you."

"He doesn't. But he knows I love Emily like a sister. He wanted me to be here today, to be here for Emily, when he told her who you are."

"Nikki, give me a chance to explain—" Mitch spread out his hands across the table, his palms open, beseeching her.

"You cannot imagine how much Emily lost and how terribly she's suffered. How could you, of all people, cause her even more pain?"

"I didn't want to tell Emily about my past until we became better acquainted. I wanted her to know the real Mitch Hayden before she judged me based on the man I used to be." Mitch took a deep breath.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Tears filled Nikki's eyes. "You know who Emily is. You've known all along. You deliberately sought her out, didn't you?"

"Yes, I know who Emily is, and yes, I sought her out. I hadn't intended to wait so long to tell her who I am. But once I met her, once I found myself caring for her…" He looked directly at Nikki and noted a combination of anger and pity in her eyes. "I've spent five years hating myself, punishing myself for what happened. Zed Banning realized that I was killing myself by slow degrees. He brought me back to the Gulf to face the past and start all over again."

"My God, Zed Banning knows who you are, who Emily is, and he didn't try to stop you!"

"No one could have stopped me from finding Emily and making sure she was all right. Can't you understand how important it was to me to try, in some way, to make things right for her?"

"Make it right for her?" Nikki stared at him, an incredulous look on her face. "Are you out of your mind? Your construction firm was responsible for her husband's death, for her unborn child's death and for her— And you walked into her life and made her fall in love with you. How could you have done something so cruel?"

"Nikki, please understand. I need Emily's forgiveness. I need—"

"You need! You need! What about what Emily needs? She needs to be loved, not used. Once she finds out the truth, she'll be devastated. She'll hate you. She'll never forgive you. Never!"

His Emily. His beautiful, sweet, loving Emily would hate him? She would never forgive him? Of course she would hate him and never forgive him. If he'd been honest with himself, he would have known all along how this would turn out.

Mitch closed his eyes against the pain, trying to blot out the rage inside him. Perspiration broke out on his face. His palms moistened with sweat.

"I'll tell her the truth myself, if you'll let me."

"I wish she never had to know," Nikki said. "Tell me this, Mitch, are you the one?"

"The one what?"

"The one who's made all the phone calls, sent all the letters? Are you the one who wrecked her living room?"

"How the hell could I have wrecked Emily's living room when I was with her when it happened? We had a date, remember?"

"Maybe you hired somebody to break into her house while you were with her. So you'd have an alibi. So no one would suspect you."

"Nikki, just listen to yourself. You're not making any sense." Every muscle in Mitch's body tightened painfully at the thought Emily might believe her friend's frantic ravings. "What motive would I have? I came into Emily's life to help her, not hurt her. I want to take care of her, to make amends for the past. I'd never hurt her. Please believe me."

Nikki glowered at Mitch, her eyes narrowing to slits. "You have to tell her who you are. Today. Right now."

"Thank you," he said, his voice a ragged whisper.

Mitch stood up, walked to the back door, opened it and went out onto the porch. When he didn't find Emily, he made his way around the porch to the front of the cottage.

A small, slender man, with thinning gray hair approached Emily with open arms. Fowler
Jordan
! Mitch would never forget the man's face as long as he lived. Stuart Jordan's uncle had come to the courtroom every day of the trial. He had stared at Mitch, his gaze filled with loathing.