As Kay closed the door behind her she became aware of two things in the same instant. The girls had skidded to an abrupt halt in the doorway and her mother was saying something, her words high and rushed, which indicated she was nervous. And then she heard the deep, smoky male voice, and she knew…
By the time she reached the doorway she had herself under control again, only the whiteness
of her skin betraying that she was scared to death. Mitchell Grey was sitting at the table with her mother, a cup of coffee and an enormous wedge of Leonora’s carrot cake in front of him.
Kay stared at him, knowing she had to say something but utterly bereft of words to meet the occasion. He stared back silently with unfathomable eyes.
‘Kay, darling, there you are.’ Leonora rose hastily from the table, all fluster, and moved round the long breakfast bar that divided the dining area from the kitchen. ‘Mitchell called by to have a word. I’ll take the girls into the sitting room, shall I?’
‘Not on my account, please, Leonora.’ He smiled at her as he spoke before glancing at the two little girls who were shyly clutching Kay’s legs. ‘Your grandmother has told me about you two. Now, which is which?’
Mitchell and Leonora? She had only been gone for just under an hour and in that time her mother and Mitchell Grey had become best buddies?
‘I’m Georgia and she’s Emily.’ Georgia, always the least shy spoke up as she looked curiously at the big dark man dominating the tiny dining area. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Mitchell.’ He smiled at the two small figures who were like peas in a pod. ‘But you can call me Mitch if you like.’
Georgia nodded, her red-brown curls dancing. Always a child of instant decisions, she now walked over to the figure sitting at the table before Kay could stop her, her voice loud as she said, ‘Do you want to know how you can tell us apart so you don’t get mixed up?’
Mitchell stared into the earnest little face. The child’s tone had suggested she was doing him a great honour and his reflected he was fully aware of this when he said, ‘Very much, please, Georgia.’
‘I’m an inch taller than Emily and she has got some green in her eyes but mine are all brown, like Mummy’s.’
‘Right.’ He nodded. ‘Thank you, I’ll remember that.’
Emily, not to be outdone, had now joined her sister at Mitchell’s knee. ‘My grandma has got some green in her eyes too,’ she said importantly, ‘and my Uncle Peter.’
‘Have they?’ Mitchell glanced at the two women for a moment before his gaze returned to the twins. All four faces were so alike it was almost comical, like three stages of life in one person. ‘Well, you’ve both got very pretty eyes, your grandma and mummy too.’
The girls beamed at him and Kay realised she had to get a handle on this, and fast. ‘Georgia, Emily, you go up with Grandma now and get changed out of your school uniform,’ she said briskly. ‘When you’re washed and changed you can come down and have a glass of milk and a biscuit, okay?’
‘Will you still be here?’ Georgia asked Mitchell, without glancing in Kay’s direction.
‘I’m not sure.’ The silver eyes passed over Kay’s face, which now, far from being drained of colour, was burning hot. ‘You’d better ask your mummy that.’
‘Mummy—’
‘Georgia.’
It was obvious the tone was one the twins recognised because they turned from Mitchell without another word, walking over to Leonora who had her hands outstretched for them and leaving the room with just a wave at Mitchell.
‘They’re delightful.’ As the door closed he pre-empted what Kay had been about to say, following the statement by taking a huge bite of the carrot cake.
Kay stared at him, aware her face was on fire but unable to do anything about it as she said, ‘Mr Grey, why are you here?’
‘Mitchell, please.’ It was soft, but carried a warning in the lazy tone. ‘Unless you prefer Mitch, of course?’
‘I don’t prefer anything.’
He nodded, taking another bite of cake as though he had every right to sit at her dining table.
He was angry, furiously angry with her. Kay didn’t know how she came by this knowledge because the hard, handsome face was to all intents and purposes relaxed and sociable, the unusual ice-blue eyes clear and inscrutable. She decided to take the bull by the horns. ‘You’re angry.’ It was a statement, not a question. ‘And I can understand that but it doesn’t give you the right to come to my home like this.’
‘I disagree,’ he said, the conversational tone not fooling her for a minute.
She decided to try another tack. ‘How did you get my address, anyway?’ she asked hotly, forcing the aggression into her voice when really she was having a job to hide the trembling in her stomach.
Did she have any idea how young and vulnerable she looked standing like that, her whole stance one of hostility but her mouth and eyes betraying her panic and alarm? Damn it, she was looking at him as though he were some sort of monster. The thought increased Mitchell’s fury rather than diffusing it. ‘Obtaining your address was not difficult,’ he said evenly. ‘I had your name and telephone number, after all.’