Night Whispers - Leslie Kelly [16]
“Step into my parlor said the spider to the fly,” Kelsey muttered as she sat on the wicker love seat and stared at the backyard in the fading light of early evening.
Kelsey had been trying all afternoon to forget about those moments earlier in the day when she and Mitch had…connected. That was the only suitable word. There had been a connection, a spark. They had both felt it. And he had walked out.
She told herself she was glad. Being kissed by Mitch might be nice, a lovely moment, but nothing could come of it. They lived under the same roof, saw each other all the time. And it would be awkward to bump into each other in the kitchen pantry or anywhere else if they’d given in to an impetuous kiss. So it was just as well that kiss had occurred only in her heated imagination. It’s not as though anything else would have happened anyway, she reasoned. She and Mitch were casual friends, almost like family, and a kiss was, after all, just a kiss.
Who was she kidding? Kissing Mitch would be divine.
Kelsey heard a high-pitched laugh from downstairs and punched her fist into the pillow she’d been holding. The woman sounded shrill, grating, and Kelsey could not imagine why Mitch would be interested in someone like her. Other than the legs, the hair, the body, the face, the obvious wealth and elegance, what did the woman have to offer?
“Lead me to your parlor, said the spider to the fly is more like it,” she said sourly.
Mitch was, after all, ideal prey for that type. She really couldn’t believe some long-legged, perfectly coifed female hadn’t snared him in her web yet. He was talented, gifted really, friendly, personable, utterly drop-dead gorgeous, and single. And, oh yeah, wealthy. What self-respecting, husband-snaring spider could resist him?
Kelsey had no idea who the woman was, didn’t even know her name. But she hated her.
“MITCH, YOU WERE GONE SO LONG, I missed you so,” Amanda said as she draped herself upon the sofa.
Mitch watched her, not attracted by her languid grace, as he used to be, but instead somewhat amused. Amanda’s every move seemed choreographed—she always managed to frame herself well. For a split second he compared her to the several other women he had dated since moving to Baltimore. He suddenly realized they were all just like her: lovely, elegant, confident and sophisticated. Why, then, was she suddenly so unappealing?
“I’m quite certain you didn’t spend the past six months pining for me,” he said with a dry chuckle as he poured her a drink.
“Of course not, you know me better than that. But the social whirl just palled without you.”
He handed her the glass. “Did I miss anything interesting?”
“Billingsley’s retirement dinner was diverting,” Amanda explained after taking a sip of her gin and tonic. “And Fern Handley has been having a torrid affair with one of her English Lit students. It’s all over campus.”
Mitch shrugged. He could have been listening to a taped conversation from six months ago. Amanda sat on the board of trustees at Wilson College, where he used to teach. The college was a veritable hotbed of gossip and intrigue. Who was sleeping with whom, who would get tenure and whose research project would get funding were the only topics of conversation at the various dinners and parties. He’d tried hard to care about it all when he first started teaching, without success. He wasn’t cut out for the petty intrigue of it all.
“When are you going to give your guest lecture at the college?” Amanda asked.
“I’m not sure yet,” Mitch replied as he walked across the room. “I haven’t even started thinking about that. I’ve got loads of documentation to sort through first. Right now I’m trying to finish up the articles I’ve been writing for the Sun.”
“Yes, of course,” she replied. “I’ve been following them while you were gone. You had the whole city in tears when you wrote about the orphan girls.”
Mitch sensed the boredom in her tone. She wasn’t the least bit