LITMIR.BIZ

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to Missouri to be stalled by a little squirt’s solemn face. He had business to take care of. And a plane to catch back to Colorado this evening.

      He’d told Jack he would be back in Winterhaven in two days—Jack Winter who’d taken him in when he’d been an angry, scared runaway of almost seventeen. Jack had given him a place to stay, a job. His wife, Josey, had given him the courage to call King and tell him where he’d run. Over the years, Jack had become his mentor—and his friend. Mitch wasn’t about to let him down.

      So... Still clutching the sheet, Mitch swung his feet to the floor. One thing he’d learned teaching skiing at the Lodge: where there was a princess, there was bound to be a king or a queen. He needed to seek a royal audience pronto. Whoever was living with his father could be the answer to his problem.

      “Okay, Princess, I’m...Mr. Kole, and I’d like to get up now so—”

      “I know. You’re The Prince.”

      “Seri? Where are you? You’d better not be bothering Mr. Kole.”

      Hell. Mitch pulled the sheet of redheaded mermaids a little higher around him. If he remembered his fairy tales, princesses weren’t supposed to catch The Prince in bed naked.

      “Seri, I told you not to—” A woman appeared in the doorway. “Oh...” At the sight of him her eyes widened.

      Mitch watched color rosy the woman’s cheeks. Things were taking a decided turn for the better.

      There could be no mistaking Seraphina’s mother. This woman promised everything the funny little princess would someday become. The kid was skinny, but her mother—now here was pleasure to behold. The kind of woman the word “petite” must have been invented for, with feathery hair the color of light ale brushing her shoulders when she moved.

      In spite of her size, she acted about as regal as the kid. Even in that long, shapeless dress, and that brown sweater—which had to be a hand-me-down from her grandfather—she still didn’t manage to hide a figure that was...lush. It was the only other word Mitch could think of. Or wanted to.

      Until he looked into her eyes. They were blue, the blue of Colorado skies. Of columbine flowers. Of deep, cool mountain lakes.

      Or an Alaskan glacier. He tugged the sheets closer.

      None of her daughter’s studious curiosity there. Instead he found wariness—and other feelings he recognized. Anger. Resentment.

      She studied him as if he were some form of outer space alien, a very stupid alien who had witlessly landed in her daughter’s bed. A state of affairs she definitely didn’t approve.

      “Go on now, Seri. To the kitchen.” She shooed the girl out the door.

      Given the same circumstances in his bedroom at Winterhaven, Mitch would have stretched into a slow, sensuous yawn, given the woman a provocative grin...and stood up. But something about this woman made him hesitate.

      Her gaze came to a halt at the fistful of sheet he held against his stomach. Her eyes thawed just a bit. Her honey-colored brows ticked upward.

      Fascinated, he watched a corner of her pale pink mouth curve ever so slightly. To his dismay, he felt himself respond. Clearly this was a woman he couldn’t unnerve, not even with the threat of six feet of buck nakedness. The thought pleased him.

      “Did not!”

      “Did, too! Mo-om!” Crash!

      A dog barked.

      Mitch winced.

      The woman didn’t even flinch, but her gaze refrosted. “Your father didn’t tell you about us, did he?”

      Obviously a rhetorical question, because she spun out of the doorway before he could decide between a bitter laugh and a fierce growl. He hadn’t come here to get turned on by a little bit of a woman, a woman who was apparently living with his father!

      Flinging the sheet aside, he slammed his feet to the floor. Just then the kid popped into the room. Mitch lunged back under the concealing mermaids.

      “Seri?” The woman reappeared in the doorway. One glance and she grabbed the kid and ushered her toward the door.

      “But, Mommy—”

      “Let Mr. Kole get dressed.”

      They disappeared together, but not before Mitch could check her hand. The woman wasn’t wearing a ring. The discovery left him teetering between a definite upswing in mood—and pure raw anger.

      “Wait! Miss... Ms....” How was it she already had him analyzed and categorized while he hadn’t even known she existed? His frustration level shot skyward. “Hey, lady, who are you?” he shouted. He didn’t like being out of control. He didn’t like being so...perturbed by such a...woman.

      She reappeared in the doorway. The kid peeked from behind her legs.

      “Sander. Ellie. I’m the one who called about your father’s accident.”

      There was that resentment again. That anger.

      “I told him we didn’t need to bother you, but he insisted.”

      Mitch scowled into Ellie Sander’s rejecting azure eyes. Damn it, she did bother him. She bothered him a lot.

      “There’s breakfast in the kitchen,” she announced flatly, then swung out of the room, her hair fanning her shoulders like a silk skirt.

      “Just coffee,” he shouted after her. “I don’t do breakfast.”

      Damn! He didn’t need to growl just because there were still old issues between him and his father. He especially didn’t need to watch her retreat—just because he liked the way she moved. He didn’t have time for—

      For anything. He’d done his duty; he’d flown to his father’s deathbed. But when Ellie Sander had called, she’d failed to give him one minor detail. Old “King” Kole wasn’t dying.

      Last night at the hospital, Mitch had discovered that King was only temporarily inconvenienced—by a cast on one ankle and another all the way up his other leg. And a headache the size of Mount Rushmore. Which he undoubtedly deserved.

      Shoving back the sheet, Mitch tugged into his briefs and stalked down the hall to the bathroom, defying an encounter with more princesses along the way.

      He’d go see his father—one more time. He’d make arrangements with the hospital for a visiting nurse. He’d contact a temp agency for someone to help run the store. He’d arrange for whatever his father and this woman needed till King was on his feet again. But Mitch wasn’t going to stay.

      His father had never been there for him when he was growing up. He hadn’t been there for his mother when she’d needed him. King had set the example; for once Mitch figured he’d be justified in following it.

      But he would be nice to this Ellie Sander, whoever she was. Why such a pretty, pint-size woman like her would move in with his father—?

      “Ouch!” He muffled an oath and gave the bathroom door another, more careful kick. Hell, she was clearly strong-willed enough to live with the old man. Which was good, he lectured himself. Because living with his father was exactly what Mitch wanted her to keep right on doing.

      Ellie knew the minute Mitch Kole stepped into the kitchen. Even with her back to the door, she could feel his presence, could smell the faint, outdoor scent that slipped into her awareness right through the aroma of pancakes and coffee.

      The same way he’d managed to slip into the apartment last night. Thank goodness she’d been downstairs in the store. For once she was even glad Seri had crawled in with the dog.

      If Mitch Kole had arrived after Seri and she had fallen asleep in the double bed—? She hated to imagine. Her screams would have sent him scrambling back to Colorado in his Jockeys—if the man even slept in shorts. From the death grip he’d held on the mermaid sheets, Ellie suspected he did not.

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