Part 2 (1/2)
Mitch had been avoiding her. He could admit that to himself, not that he'd ever let her know. For days, he'd locked himself in his study, ostensibly working, but often just listening for her footsteps above his head. She didn't make much noise, and sometimes Mitch didn't know if she was even home. Except at night. She kept late nights. Her bedroom was right above his and he heard her when she got into her creaky bed at around three in the morning. It was as he had feared. Sometimes he swore he could hear her breathing and the rustling of her bedcovers as she made herself comfortable.
Bath time was the worst. Kelsey seemed to scorn showers, but nearly every evening, at around six, she'd run a bath. From the length of time the water ran, he'd say it was a very deep bath. Soft strains of music would sometimes drift down through the pipes, and often an hour would pa.s.s before he'd hear the tub drain. Sometimes he'd close his eyes and picture her, with her hair up on her head and a few loose tendrils hanging down, leaning back in the claw-foot tub wearing nothing but a thick coat of bubbles.
”Carry this for me, will you?”
Kelsey pressed one laundry basket into his arms, then walked up the bas.e.m.e.nt stairs with the other one. In the kitchen, Mitch set the basket on the table, casually lifted her slacks and started folding. She did the same.
”How's the book coming?”
Kelsey knew Mitch was writing a textbook on the inherent changes in post-Tiananmen Square China. His first anthropology textbook, which had just been released a few months ago, was already in use at various colleges. That had surprised some folks back home to no end. Many people couldn't forget his teenage reputation as the resident hooligan.
He shrugged. ”Just scratching the surface.”
”You know, I still can't picture it. You, a college professor and now a textbook writer. When I first met you, I figured you would do something adventurous or daring with your life.” She shook her head in wonder. ”It's just that, I don't know, you seem so different. I guess I saw you being something like your parents, the big-shot archaeologists, but more along the lines of Indiana Jones, whip and all.”
”And instead,” Mitch said with a wry smile, ”you find I'm just a boring, conservative bookworm.”
Kelsey eyed him speculatively. He might be able to fool some people with that reclusive writer bit, but she knew him too well. She saw the dangerous gleam in his eyes and the sardonic smile on his lips. The way he held himself, all coiled and ready for action, and the way his voice dropped to a whisper when he was angry spoke volumes. He might have learned some self-restraint, but inside Mitch Wymore there still lurked a potential h.e.l.l-raiser.
”Yeah, right. And I'm a debutante,” she drawled.
She read the laughter in his dark blue eyes as he looked her over, head to toe, his gaze lingering on the haphazard ponytail and the wisps of hair dangling over her forehead.
”Come on. What's the story? How did Mitch the bad seed end up like this?”
”Why are you so surprised? I've always loved reading, writing and researching. Never had much problem in school...at least not academically. I've inherited that from my parents.” He pulled a chair out and sat down at the table.
”Yeah, yeah, I know,” she muttered, disgust lacing her voice, ”I heard all about it. Doctorate by twenty-six. Gag me.”
He grinned. ”You did ask. Anyway, I taught for a while, found I didn't much like being restricted by cla.s.s schedules and grading papers. Writing seemed a perfect alternative.”
”Yeah, but why textbooks?”
”Well, I'd been writing articles for journals, magazines, National Geographic National Geographic and the and the Smithsonian Smithsonian, that kind of thing.”
If anyone else had said something like that, they would probably be accused of bragging. But Kelsey had known him long enough to know that Mitch wasn't touting his accomplishments. He merely stated fact.
”Anyway, I called a publis.h.i.+ng company to complain that they kept updating texts and raising the prices so high my students couldn't afford to take my cla.s.ses. I made some contacts at the company, found myself asking questions about how these texts were written. Sounded interesting. I liked the idea of travel and research and writing, and tying it all together with academia.”
”Think you'll ever go back to teaching?”
”Probably. I did give some guest lectures at the university in Beijing, since I was working closely with one of their professors. I might teach a cla.s.s here next semester, just to keep my foot in the door. But thanks to a nice little trust fund from my grandfather, I'm not tied down to a nine-to-five job. And that's the key, because maybe next time the company will need something on the tribes of the Amazon and I'll be off again.”
It all made sense, in his annoyingly logical way. She had had always pictured Mitch ending up a world explorer like his parents. But their careers had cost him a real family life during his childhood, and had instilled in him a need for security. It appeared he'd found a way to do his adventuring in spurts, allowing him to also be the academic, the writer...the loner. always pictured Mitch ending up a world explorer like his parents. But their careers had cost him a real family life during his childhood, and had instilled in him a need for security. It appeared he'd found a way to do his adventuring in spurts, allowing him to also be the academic, the writer...the loner.
That was the part that bothered her. Mitch seemed very much alone. ”Do you see much of your parents?”
”Not really. They're wrapped up in their newest project outside Cairo. But they were here last Christmas. It was the first holiday we've spent together in about ten years. I have to admit, it was nice seeing them.” He chuckled. ”I think they've finally stopped worrying I'm going to end up in jail.”
Kelsey didn't know the elder Wymores very well. They'd always seemed very exotic to her, and when Mitch first started coming around, she'd envied him his world-traveling parents. But once she realized just how unimportant he felt to them, she'd thanked her lucky stars for her own homebody family.
”I'm glad you've worked things out with them.”
Though he shrugged and maintained a nonchalant expression, Kelsey suspected he, too, was glad to have some sort of relations.h.i.+p with his only living relatives.
”I imagine you're getting a lot done on your book,” she said, trying to lighten the conversation, ”the way you keep yourself locked in your study.”
”Lonely, Kelsey?”
”No, of course not,” she insisted. ”Actually, it's nice having the house so quiet. Fred makes almost no noise, which has been great since I started working the night s.h.i.+ft and sleeping late in the morning.”
”Night s.h.i.+ft? Since when?”
”Well,” she said, wis.h.i.+ng she'd not brought up the subject, ”two months ago I filled in for Mafia Don when he was on vacation. And it went over pretty well. It was my first shot on the air alone here, and I guess I did a good job. ”
”Mafia Don's the guy who handles the evening rush-hour show, right? The one who always argues with every caller? I didn't realize you were working with him.”
”After my interns.h.i.+p, they offered me a permanent job at the station. I was just supposed to work with Dr. Hal, the shrink. He went kind of nuts on the air one day,” Kelsey said with a small grin. ”He started yelling at people, comparing their problems with his own. He, uh...got a little personal...something about liking to wear high heels and fruit on his head. That was his last day. So they temporarily expanded Don's show and made me his on-air sidekick.”
”Kelsey Logan, the 'pay attention to me' queen, somebody's sidekick? I have trouble picturing that.”
”Ha, ha, very funny. Anyway, Don was away, I filled in, got a great response, and they gave me a shot at my own show.”
”Do they have you doing the world issues in the evenings?”
”Not exactly,” she said as she quickly grabbed a s.h.i.+rt.
”What then?”
Kelsey finished the last s.h.i.+rt and stacked everything back in the empty laundry basket. Stalling further, she got a gla.s.s and poured herself some ice water, hoping he'd move on to something else while she slowly drank it.
Mitch didn't budge. He c.o.c.ked his head in that irritating way and raised an eyebrow, as he always had when waiting for her to take her turn in Monopoly when she'd just rounded the corner toward Boardwalk and he had all the hotels!
”It's a new show, okay?” she said, finally. ”Right now I'm just winging it. The topic changes constantly.”
Mitch knew she'd been itching for a break on a big-city station. Her mother had said Kelsey had been a big hit on the local station back home. With her talent for impersonations and her quick wit, Kelsey was a natural performer. She had always said she'd be on stage, TV, film or on the radio. Most times he'd just wished she'd be on another planet.
”What time are you on?”
”Late night. Ten to two.”
Mitch frowned. ”You mean you're working until two in the morning in a nearly deserted building in a not-so-great part of town?”
”It's perfectly safe. There are plenty of people around at night, including a security guard. And I park right by the door. Would you please stop treating me like a little girl?” she snapped.