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Without a word, he took her bag and easily located her key. After opening the door, he reached in and flipped the light switch on, then rested his warm palm on the small of her back, guiding her inside.
She took a deep breath and met his gaze. “You’ve certainly gone above and beyond the call of duty tonight.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
No, the least would have been to let her take a cab. And she wished he had. “Thank you for everything. Good night—”
“Are you throwing me out, Ms. Ryan?”
“Yes. I’d really like to be alone.”
He set her purse on the sofa table in the entryway, then noticed the decanter of brandy and glasses. Without asking permission, he poured some of the liquor into two snifters and handed one to her.
“No, thanks, I—”
“Doctor’s orders,” he said, touching his glass to hers, before glancing around. “Nice place.”
Following his gaze she took in the beige-and-maroon chenille corner group, the circular oak table and four chairs in the dining area, distressed mahogany buffet with battered copper accessories on top. She’d painted the walls a harvest gold with one wall covered in a bold burnt orange. It was colorful, warm and inviting.
“My father h-hates it,” she said.
Mitch moved closer and the spark of anger in his eyes was clearly visible in the dim light. In spite of the simmering hostility, his touch was gentle when he crooked a finger beneath her glass and urged it to her lips for a sip.
“Your father is a first-class idiot.”
Maybe, but he was the idiot who’d raised her and she loved him for that. She owed him a lot. “Thanks for getting the valet to let my father know not to wait for me.”
His mouth pulled tight for a moment but all he said was, “You’re welcome.”
“And thanks for not giving me too hard a time when I insisted the valet tell him that I wasn’t feeling well.”
“As opposed to you’d rather walk barefoot on glass than get in the car with him?”
“Yes,” she said. “I know you don’t understand—”
“You’re right. I don’t get it. You’re bright and beautiful and witty. I don’t understand why you let him get away with treating you like a ditz.”
“He’s entitled to his opinion about what I do.”
“That doesn’t give him the right to be vicious.”
She took another sip of brandy and felt it warm her inside. The look Mitch was giving her heated her, too, in an entirely different way.
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