she took more than a few steps, the door burst open.
Startled, she dropped the canvas bag.
“Laura? What are you doing here?” Mitch’s exasperated voice washed over her.
Suddenly, she felt incredibly foolish. And beneath the glare of the overhead lights the white of the canvas bag gleamed between them.
Mitch crossed the threshold. As he passed through the doorway, she scrambled to retrieve the dropped dinner, but he was faster.
He held the bag out toward her, his eyes questioning her presence.
She accepted the bag, then swung it lightly. “This is going to sound really stupid, but I was worried that you wouldn’t eat a decent dinner, so I brought you a roast beef sandwich.”
He glanced at the oversize bag. “That must be one big sandwich.”
Laura was grateful for the darkness that camouflaged the telling warmth in her cheeks. “Actually, I brought enough for two.”
“Concerned about Morgan?”
“Who?”
His lips eased into an offhand grin. “My bird. He’s not much on roast beef, though.”
She strove for lightness. “No, but I am.”
Surprise flickered over his features, then faded. “Saving me from a life of burgers and pizza?”
Laura shrugged. “Do you need saving?”
For a moment the silence pulsed between them, tension building in the quiet dark. Then a sudden screech broke the mood. “Hello,” Morgan squawked.
Laura laughed, grateful for the bird’s interruption. “I brought chocolate cake, too. Mrs. Plummer’s finest. And a thermos of coffee.”
“You’ve convinced me.” He held open the door.
Self-conscious, Laura slid by, feeling the brush of hardened muscles, the taut measure of long legs. For an instant she considered lingering, then rushed on. She’d only made him a sandwich, she reminded herself. Nothing to get so riled up about.
Still, her stomach churned as she wandered inside the office, and she felt uncertain now that she was here. Mitch, however, was as relaxed as she was uncomfortable.
He swept the papers from a scarred coffee table, which rested in front of an equally disreputable-looking sofa, and they both sat down.
She frowned. “I hope those weren’t important.”
“Not nearly as important as home-cooked roast beef.”
Laura’s expression brightened. “So, I’m not intruding?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Chagrined, Laura grabbed for her purse.
But Mitch’s hand stopped hers. “I’m still misreading you, I see. I thought you could take a little joke. So where’s this world-famous roast beef?”
Laura released her grip on her purse, realizing once again how badly she was out of practice in dealing with men. “I didn’t say it was world famous, simply home-cooked.”
“In my book, one and the same.”
“Don’t tell me you’re lacking in attention,” she scoffed.
His grin was again easy and mocking. “Depends on the kind of attention you’re talking about.”
Some of her humor faded. Yet she knew he was a charmer, a man who loved women as much as they loved him. It shouldn’t prevent her from sharing a simple supper with him. Keeping that in mind, she shored up her smile. “I don’t think you and Morgan lead a solitary existence. No doubt you have more attention than you need.”
“You might be surprised.”
The words startled her and for a moment she saw past the usual nonchalance in his expression. Within seconds, though, his easy smile was back in place, and she wondered if she had imagined the earlier change. Unwilling to explore the thought further, she opened the sack and pulled out the sandwiches, fussing over them more than necessary.
Mitch played along, digging into the impromptu dinner. “This beats the pizza I’d planned on ordering.”
Laura nodded. “I guessed as much.” Remembering the coffee, she took out the thermos from the bag. “Oh, I forgot to bring cups.”
“I’m not completely without creature comforts. There should be something to drink out of around here.” Mitch rose and searched for cups, tossing aside a box of petrified doughnuts. The mugs he retrieved looked a bit worse for wear, but Laura decided she needed the bracing warmth of some coffee. He sat down again and twisted off the lid of the thermos, and in an instant the tang of fresh coffee filled the small space between them.
Mitch poured coffee into the mugs, then sampled the brew. “I get so used to my own sludge, I forget how good coffee tastes. Mrs. Plummer must really be a treasure.”
Laura shifted on the sofa. “Actually, I made the coffee. Mrs. Plummer’s coffee tastes like it has part of the pot in it.”
He laughed. “I should have remembered. I’ve had your coffee before.”
Instantly Laura remembered the morning in his apartment. She also remembered his casual threat about disturbing him again before breakfast. Squirming, she shifted even farther down the couch.
“You keep that up and you’ll end up on the floor.”
Laura blinked. Then the absurdity struck her and she couldn’t contain an embarrassed giggle. “I guess you could say I’m not real comfortable around men.”
“No kidding.”
So he’d noticed. Laura clasped her hands, stopping their nervous motion. Silent moments passed, but finally she spoke. “You know from what I’ve told you that my ex-husband was a jerk.”
“That’s a mild term,” he commented. “I wouldn’t be so generous.”
She grimaced in agreement. “So don’t take it personally.”
Mitch abandoned his interest in the sandwich. “Don’t take what personally?”
Laura gestured vaguely. She knew it wasn’t an answer, but damn, how had she cornered herself this way?
“I don’t read shrugs,” he countered.
She sighed. “This is silly. I shouldn’t have even said anything, especially since we’re only working together.” Meeting his eyes, she saw that he was waiting for further explanation. “I’m just not comfortable with certain types of men.”
“Oh?” Although his voice was still mild, a new note had crept in, one she couldn’t completely decipher.
“It’s just that because of my experience I’m not comfortable with men like…” From the expression on his face, Laura realized her words were a mistake, yet she couldn’t recall them.
“Me?” he said flatly, completing her sentence.
Stomach sinking, Laura wished she hadn’t broached the subject. “As I said, don’t take it personally.”
“You know another way to take it?”
Laura pushed her half-eaten sandwich away. “I’m sure you know a bevy of women who are far more than comfortable with you.”
“Bevy?” he questioned in disbelief.
She squirmed anew. “I don’t know about you, but I was really enjoying our dinner until I opened my mouth.”
“It would be hard to enjoy the dinner otherwise,” he commented, his light tone signaling acceptance of her proffered olive branch.
Laura smiled, noting again the wealth of charm