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  such things. It was madness, the sweet release of madness. She heard him murmur her name as he moved his mouth down her throat and back again.

  Madness. She understood it. She’d been there before, or thought she had. Though it seemed sweeter now, richer now, she knew she could never go there again.

  “Mitch, please.” It wasn’t easy to resist what he was offering. It surprised Hester how difficult it was to draw away, to put the boundaries back. “We can’t do this.”

  “We are,” he pointed out, and drew the flavor from her lips again. “And very well.”

  “I can’t.” With the small sliver of willpower she had left, she struggled away. “I’m sorry. I should never have let this happen.” Her cheeks were hot. Hester put her hands to them, then dragged them up through her hair.

  His knees were weak. That was something to think about. But for the moment he concentrated on her. “You’re taking a lot on yourself, Hester. It seems to be a habit of yours. I kissed you, and you just happened to kiss me back. Since we both enjoyed it, I don’t see where apologies are necessary on either side.”

  “I should have made myself clear.” She stepped back, hit the newspapers again, then skirted around them. “I do appreciate what you’re doing for Rad—”

  “Leave him out of this, for God’s sake.”

  “I can’t.” Her voice rose, surprising her again. She knew better than to lose control. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I can’t leave him out of it.” She took a deep breath, amazed that it did nothing to calm her pulse rate. “I’m not interested in casual sex. I have Rad to think about, and myself.”

  “Fair enough.” He wanted to sit down until he’d recovered, but figured the situation called for an eye-to-eye discussion. “I wasn’t feeling too casual about it myself.”

  That was what worried her. “Let’s just drop it.”

  Anger was an amazing stimulant. Mitch stepped forward and caught her chin in his hand. “Fat chance.”

  “I don’t want to argue with you. I just think that—” The knock came as a blessed reprieve. “That’s the boys.”

  “I know.” But he didn’t release her. “Whatever you’re interested in, have time for, room for, might just have to be adjusted.” He was angry, really angry, Mitch realized. It wasn’t like him to lose his temper so quickly. “Life’s full of adjustments, Hester.” Letting her go, he opened the door.

  “It was great.” Rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed, Radley tumbled in ahead of Josh and the dog. “We even got Taz to run once, for a minute.”

  “Amazing.” Mitch bent to unclip the leash. Grumbling with exhaustion, Taz walked to a spot by the window, then collapsed.

  “You guys must be freezing.” Hester kissed Radley’s forehead. “It must be time for hot chocolate.”

  “Yeah!” Radley turned his beaming face to Mitch. “Want some? Mom makes real good hot chocolate.”

  It was tempting to put her on the spot. Perhaps it was a good thing for both of them that his temper was already fading. “Maybe next time.” He pulled Radley’s cap over his eyes. “I’ve got some things to do.”

  “Thanks a lot for letting us take Taz out. It was really neat, wasn’t it, Josh?”

  “Yeah. Thanks, Mr. Dempsey.”

  “Anytime. See you Monday, Rad.”

  “Okay.” The boys fled, laughing and shoving. Mitch looked, but Hester was already gone.

  Chapter 4

  Mitchell Dempsey II had been born rich, privileged and, according to his parents, with an incorrigible imagination. Maybe that was why he’d taken to Radley so quickly. The boy was far from rich, not even privileged enough to have a set of parents, but his imagination was first-class.

  Mitch had always liked crowds as much as one-on-one social situations. He was certainly no stranger to parties, given his mother’s affection for entertaining and his own gregarious nature, and no one who knew him would ever have classed him as a loner. In his work, however, he had always preferred the solitary. He worked at home not because he didn’t like distractions—he was really fond of them—but because he didn’t care to have anyone looking over his shoulder or timing his progress. He’d never considered working any way other than alone. Until Radley.

  They made a pact the first day. If Radley finished his homework, with or without Mitch’s dubious help, he could then choose to either play with Taz or give his input into Mitch’s latest story line. If Mitch had decided to call it quits for the day, they could entertain themselves with his extensive collection of videotapes or with Radley’s growing army of plastic figures.

  To Mitch, it was natural—to Radley, fantastic. For the first time in his young life he had a man who was part of his daily routine, one who talked to him and listened to him. He had someone who was not only as willing to spend time to set up a battle or wage a war as his mother was, but someone who understood his military strategy.

  By the end of their first week, Mitch was not only a hero, creator of Zark and owner of Taz, but the most solid and dependable person in his life other than his mother. Radley loved, without guards or restrictions.

  Mitch saw it, wondered at it and found himself just as captivated. He had told Hester no less than the truth when he’d said that he’d never thought about having children. He’d run his life on his own clock for so long that he’d never considered doing things differently. If he’d known what it was to love a small boy, to find pieces of himself in one, he might have done things differently.

  Perhaps it was because of his discoveries that he thought of Radley’s father. What kind of man could create something that special and then walk away from it? His own father had been stern and anything but understanding, but he’d been there. Mitch had never questioned the love.

  A man didn’t get to be thirty-five without knowing several contemporaries who’d been through divorces—many of them bitter. But he also was acquainted with several who’d managed to call a moratorium with their ex-wives in order to remain fathers. It was difficult enough to understand how Radley’s father not only could have walked out, but could have walked away. After a week in Radley’s company, it was all but impossible.

  And what of Hester? What kind of man left a woman to struggle alone to raise a child they had brought into the world together? How much had she loved him? That was a thought that dug into his brain too often for comfort. The results of the experience were obvious. She was tense and overly cautious around men. Around him, certainly, Mitch thought with a grimace as he watched Radley sketch. So cautious that she’d stayed out of his path throughout the week.

  Every day between 4:15 and 4:25, he received a polite call. Hester would ask him if everything had gone well, thank him for watching Radley, then ask him to send her son upstairs. That afternoon. Radley had handed him a neatly written check for twenty-five dollars drawn on the account of Hester Gentry Wallace. It was still crumpled in Mitch’s pocket.

  Did she really think he was going to quietly step aside after she’d knocked the wind out of him? He hadn’t forgotten what she’d felt like pressed against him, inhibitions and caution stripped away for one brief, stunning moment. He intended to live that moment again as well as the others his incorrigible imagination had conjured up.

  If she did think he’d bow out gracefully, Mrs. Hester Wallace was in for a big surprise.

  “I can’t get the retro rockets right,” Radley complained. “They never look right.”

  Mitch set aside his own work, which had stopped humming along the moment he’d started to think of Hester. “Let’s have a look.” He took the spare sketch pad he’d lent to Radley. “Hey, not bad.” He grinned, foolishly pleased with Radley’s attempt at the Defiance. It seemed the few pointers he’d given the kid had taken root. “You’re a real natural, Rad.”

  The boy blushed with pleasure, then frowned again. “But see, the boosters and retros are all wrong. They look stupid.”

  “Only because you’re trying to detail too soon. Look, light strokes, impression
s first.” He put a hand over the boy’s to guide it. “Don’t be afraid to make mistakes. That’s why they make those big gum erasers.”

  “You don’t make mistakes.” Radley caught his tongue between his teeth as he struggled to make his hand move as expertly as Mitch’s.

  “Sure I do. This is my fifteenth eraser this year.”

  “You’re the best artist in the whole world,” Radley said, looking up, his heart in his eyes.

  Moved and strangely humbled, Mitch ruffled the boy’s hair. “Maybe one of the top twenty, but thanks.” When the phone rang, Mitch felt a strange stab of disappointment. The weekend meant something different now—no Radley. For a man who had lived his entire adult life without responsibilities, it was a sobering thought to realize he would miss one. “That should be your mother.”

  “She said we could go out to the movies tonight ’cause it’s Friday and all. You could come with us.”

  Giving a noncommittal grunt, Mitch answered the phone. “Hi, Hester.”

  “Mitch, I—everything okay?”

  Something in her tone had his brows drawing together. “Just dandy.”

  “Did Radley give you the check?”

  “Yeah. Sorry, I haven’t had a chance to cash it yet.”

  If there was one thing she wasn’t in the mood for at the moment, it was sarcasm. “Well, thanks. If you’d send Radley upstairs, I’d appreciate it.”

  “No problem.” He hesitated. “Rough day, Hester?”

  She pressed a hand to her throbbing temple. “A bit. Thank you, Mitch.”

  “Sure.” He hung up, still frowning. Turning to Radley, he made the effort to smile. “Time to transfer your equipment, Corporal.”

  “Sir, yes, sir!” Radley gave a smart salute. The intergalactic army he’d left at Mitch’s through the week was tossed into his backpack. After a brief search, both of his gloves were located and pushed in on top of the plastic figures. Radley stuffed his coat and hat in before kneeling down to hug Taz. “Bye, Taz. See ya.” The dog rumbled a goodbye as he rubbed his snout into Radley’s shoulder. “Bye, Mitch.” He went to the door, then hesitated. “I guess I’ll see you Monday.”

  “Sure. Hey, maybe I’ll just walk up with you. Give your mom a full report.”

  “Okay!” Radley brightened instantly. “You left your keys in the kitchen. I’ll get them.” Mitch watched the tornado pass, then swirl back. “I got an A in spelling. When I tell Mom, she’ll be in a real good mood. We’ll probably get sodas.”

  “Sounds like a good deal to me,” Mitch said, and let himself be dragged along.

  ***

  Hester heard Radley’s key in the lock and set down the ice pack. Leaning closer, she checked her face in the bathroom mirror, saw a bruise was already forming, and swore. She’d hoped to be able to tell Radley about the mishap, gloss over it and make it a joke before any battle scars showed. Hester downed two aspirin and prayed the headache would pass.

  “Mom! Hey, Mom!”

  “Right here, Radley.” She winced at her own raised voice, then put on a smile as she walked out to greet him. The smile faded when she saw her son had brought company.

  “Mitch came up to report,” Radley began as he shrugged out of his backpack.

  “What the hell happened to you?” Mitch crossed over to her in two strides. He had her face in his hands and fury in his eyes. “Are you all right?”

  “Of course I am.” She shot him a quick warning look, then turned to Radley. “I’m fine.”

  Radley stared up at her, his eyes widening, then his bottom lip trembling as he saw the black-and-blue mark under her eye. “Did you fall down?”

  She wanted to lie and say yes, but she’d never lied to him. “Not exactly.” She forced a smile, annoyed to have a witness to her explanation. “It seems that there was a man at the subway station who wanted my purse. I wanted it, too.”

  “You were mugged?” Mitch wasn’t sure whether to swear at her or gather her close and check for injuries. Hester’s long, withering look didn’t give him the chance to do either.

  “Sort of.” She moved her shoulders to show Radley it was of little consequence. “It wasn’t all that exciting, I’m afraid. The subway was crowded. Someone saw what was going on and called security, so the man changed his mind about my purse and ran away.”

  Radley looked closer. He’d seen a black eye before. Joey Phelps had had a really neat one once. But he’d never seen one on his mother. “Did he hit you?”

  “Not really. That part was sort of an accident.” An accident that hurt like the devil. “We were having this tug-of-war over my purse, and his elbow shot up. I didn’t duck quick enough, that’s all.”

  “Stupid,” Mitch muttered loud enough to be heard.

  “Did you hit him?”

  “Of course not,” Hester answered, and thought longingly of her ice pack. “Go put your things away now, Radley.”

  “But I want to know about—”

  “Now,” his mother interrupted in a tone she used rarely but to great effect.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Radley mumbled, and lugged the backpack off the couch.

  Hester waited until he’d turned the corner into his room. “I want you to know I don’t appreciate your interference.”

  “You haven’t begun to see interference. What the hell’s wrong with you? You know better than to fight with a mugger over a purse. What if he’d had a knife?” Even the thought of it had his reliable imagination working overtime.

  “He didn’t have a knife.” Hester felt her knees begin to tremble. The damnedest thing was that the reaction had chosen the most inopportune moment to set in. “And he doesn’t have my purse, either.”

  “Or a black eye. For God’s sake, Hester, you could have been seriously hurt, and I doubt there’s anything in your purse that would warrant it. Credit cards can be canceled, a compact or a lipstick replaced.”

  “I suppose if someone had tried to lift your wallet you’d have given him your blessing.”

  “That’s different.”

  “The hell it is.”

  He stopped pacing long enough to give her a long study. Her chin was thrust out, in the same way he’d seen Radley’s go a few times. He’d expected the stubbornness, but he had to admit he hadn’t expected the ready temper, or his admiration for it. But that was beside the point, he reminded himself as his gaze swept over her bruised cheekbone again.

  “Let’s just back up a minute. In the first place, you’ve got no business taking the subway alone.”

  She let out what might have been a laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  The funny thing was, he couldn’t remember ever having said anything quite that stupid. It brought his own temper bubbling over. “Take a cab, damn it.”

  “I have no intention of taking a cab.”

  “Why?”

  “In the first place it would be stupid, and in the second I can’t afford it.”

  Mitch dragged the check out of his pocket and pushed it into her hand. “Now you can afford it, along with a reasonable tip.”

  “I have no intention of taking this.” She shoved the crumpled check back at him. “Or of taking a taxi when the subway is both inexpensive and convenient. And I have less intention of allowing you to take a small incident and blow it into a major calamity. I don’t want Radley upset.”

  “Fine, then take a cab. For the kid’s sake, if not your own. Think how it would have been for him if you’d really been hurt.”

  The bruise stood out darkly as her cheeks paled. “I don’t need you or anyone to lecture me on the welfare of my son.”

  “No, you do just fine by him. It’s when it comes to Hester that you’ve got a few loose screws.” He jammed his hands into his pockets. “Okay, you won’t take a cab. At least promise you won’t play Sally Courageous the next time some lowlife decides he likes the color of your purse.”

  Hester brushed at the sleeve of her jacket. “Is that the name of one of your characters?”

  “
It might be.” He told himself to calm down. He didn’t have much of a temper as a rule, but when it started to perk, it could come to a boil in seconds. “Look, Hester, did you have your life savings in your bag?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Family heirlooms?”

  “No.”

  “Any microchips vital to national security?”