Blue Mist of Morning, page 1
Blue Mist of Morning
By
Donna Vitek
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
"I Appreciate Your Offer, but I Can't Accept It."
"You mean you won't," he countered, his fingers feathering over the rapidly beating pulse in her throat. "Anne, stop trying to be so tough and self-sufficient. We all should know how to take as well as give. And I think you give too much to your family. It's time you learned to take something out of life for yourself. Maybe you should start learning right now."
Before she could react, his thumbs tilted her face up as he lowered his dark head. She took a swift, startled breath as his mouth descended to move slowly over her own. She tensed. Her hands came up to tightly clutch his lapels.
"Relax," he whispered coaxingly, slipping one arm down around her slim waist to draw her firmly against him. "You do have needs of your own, Anne. Stop trying to deny them."
DONNA VITEK firmly believes that "I would probably never have learned to enjoy writing as much as I do" without the influence of her husband. That love of writing has brought many hours of enjoyment to her many fans, who eagerly await each new Silhouette by this talented author.
Dear Reader,
I'd like to take this opportunity to thank all of you who have written in with your comments on Silhouette Romances.
We are always delighted to receive your letters, telling us what you like best about Silhouette, our authors, or indeed, anything else you want to tell us. This is a tremendous help to us as we strive to publish the best contemporary romances possible.
All the romances from Silhouette Books are for you, so enjoy this book and the many stories to come. I hope you will continue to share your thoughts with us and invite you to write to me at this address:
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Silhouette Books
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Copyright© 1983 by Donna Vitek
Map by Ray Lundgren
First printing 1983
ISBN 0 340 34370 2
Other Silhouette Books by Donna Vitek
A Different Dream
Showers of Sunlight
Promises from the Past
Veil of Gold
Where the Heart Is
Valaquez Bride
Garden of the Moongate
Game of Chance
Sweet Surrender
Chapter One
The narrow ribbon of road wound over the crest of Virginia's Blue Ridge Mountains. Below, the green rolling hills of the Shenandoah Valley lay darkly shadowed beneath a gray overcast sky. Through the heart of the valley, its famous silver river threaded a serpentine path of intricate coils and loops. In the summertime, bluegrass meadows and shaded secluded glens enhanced the pastoral beauty, but Anne Fairchild reluctantly ignored the scenic view and instead gazed intently at the road ahead. A late March snowstorm, unexpected and, therefore, unnerving, was making driving difficult. As a chilling wind swirled the fine, thickly falling flakes against the windshield, she slowed her speed, then sensed she was being watched by the man in the seat beside her.
As she glanced warily at her new boss, Ty Manning, her honest gray eyes quickly took in his large, lean yet muscular frame clad in a superbly tailored charcoal gray pin-striped suit. His coat was unbuttoned, as was his vest and, although his wine-colored tie was loosened at the collar and the top button of his white shirt was undone, he still looked sufficiently authoritative. He didn't smile and met her swiftly appraising gaze with steady blue eyes.
"Obviously, the weather service didn't foresee this," he commented matter-of-factly, his voice deep-timbred and pleasantly melodious. "The road is pretty well covered already. Are you getting tired of driving?"
Peering intently out the windshield again, Anne shook her head, then brushed back the strand of thick honey-blond hair that grazed her cheek. "I'm fine," she exaggerated slightly. "I just slowed down a little because it's beginning to get harder to see."
With a perfunctory nod, Mr. Manning shuffled through the papers contained in the open leather briefcase he held on his lap, then began to peruse an intricate contract Anne had typed that morning. "If you do get tired, just speak up," he said, almost as an afterthought. "Mike can drive again."
"Yes, sir," Anne murmured and stole a quick glance back over her shoulder. A slight smile curved her softly shaped lips. Stretched out on the back seat, using her uncrushable down coat as a pillow, Mike Bennett, one of Manning Consultants' lawyers, was peacefully asleep.
Actually, she should have been a bit annoyed at him. After leaving Alexandria at two that afternoon, he had only driven twenty miles or so before pleading weariness and asking her to take the wheel. She had been driving ever since, almost three hours, and although the snow was making the going rough, Mike hadn't once offered to take over for her. Still, she couldn't really be mad at him. On the contrary, she was somewhat relieved that he had come along on this trip. The weekend was going to be spent discussing business with Kirt Callen, one of Manning's clients. Since she had known Mike for two years and had even gone out to dinner with him on a couple of occasions, she felt sure his presence this weekend would make her feel more comfortable. Ty Manning himself was still practically a stranger.
As she followed the snow-covered road's winding descent, she eyed her new boss surreptitiously out of the corner of her eye. He was something of an enigma. Although she had worked for Manning Consultants for four years, she had never really had much contact with Ty Manning. She had begun in the stenographers' pool. As the years passed, other girls had frequently come and gone, but she had stayed with the firm and moved upward through the ranks to the position of executive secretary to the vice-president. Then, two weeks ago, Ty Manning's own secretary, out on maternity leave, had decided to stay home with her newborn child, and Anne had been promoted. At the relatively young age of twenty-three, she found it gratifying to be trusted with the responsible position of secretary to the president of a firm as large and as diversified as Manning Consultants. And the increase in salary had been a godsend. Yet, Anne did wish she had a clearer perception of the person Ty Manning really was. Knowing all the little quirks and eccentricities of one's boss was compulsory for a secretary who wanted to be an unqualified success. But, unfortunately, Anne's two weeks in Mr. Manning's office hadn't provided her with many enlightening insights into his personality.
Outwardly, he was always polite and thoroughly businesslike in his dealings with her. Luckily, she had not displeased him thus far, but she had seen his displeasure directed at others and had been impressed and somewhat intimidated. He was slow to anger, but when his temper did erupt, he could wither a person with a searing stare and chastise without ever raising his voice. A few choice words, spoken in a deep, deceptively soft tone, could reduce most of his employees to jelly. He was the perfect executive: calm, cool, decisive and always in control. So, Anne was striving hard to be the equally perfect, efficient secretary who could eventually anticipate his every action and need, thereby becoming indispensable to him. As for actually being able to relax around him, Anne wasn't sure she ever could. He was rather aloof and conveyed such strength of will that she was fairly certain their working relationship would always remain distant, impersonal and strictly professional.
As she glanced sideways at him again, a tiny frown marred the ivory smoothness of her brow. Sometimes, she found it difficult to believe the rumors she had heard about his personal life. According to the office gossips, he didn't lack for female companionship. Supposedly, some of Alexandria's most prominent young socialites competed for his attention, and Anne herself had seen pictures of him and some of those young women printed on the society page of the local newspaper. Anne realized that she shouldn't be surprised women found him irresistible. The girls at the office certainly swooned over him, whispering constantly about how sexy he was and tittering like adolescents whenever he happened to speak to one of them. He was attractive. There was no denying that fact. He was tall and fit, muscular yet not in the least burly, and there didn't seem to be a surplus ounce of weight on him. He was thirty-five years old, and maturity and strength were evidenced in the angular contours of his lean sun-browned face. There was a rather sensuous curve in his firmly shaped lips and an aura of virile masculinity about him, but Anne was immune to the magnetic sexuality the other girls oohed and aahed about. Ty Manning was her boss, and she never wanted to see him as anything more than the cool, brusque businessman she dealt with every day. At eighteen, in her first job, she had been foolish enough to succumb to the charms of her employer. And that was a mistake she'd resolved never to make again.
Shifting to a more comfortable position in the bucket seat, she watched the road ahead carefully, wincing with each sharp, tortuous curve she had to negotiate. The silence in the car was broken only by the soft swish of the windshield wipers and the occasional rattle of papers in Ty Manning's briefcase. About ten minutes later, Anne cautiously braked to a stop at an intersection. After consulting the roadmap on which Mr. Manning had traced the route to his mountain retreat with a red pencil, she turned onto the steeply asce nding road to her left. To make the steep incline, she accelerated more than she should have, and her heart lurched as the road suddenly swooped down into a sloping hairpin curve. She hit the brakes, her second mistake, and suddenly Ty Manning's sleek black Mercedes sedan skidded on a patch of ice beneath the snow that covered the road. Uttering a soft little cry, Anne fought to control the swerving car, but it was useless. Momentum defeated her. Almost as if in slow motion, the Mercedes slid across the road and settled heavily to rest, atilt in a deep side ditch.
Ty Manning's briefcase slid from his lap. Papers scattered over the floorboard, and had it not been for the seat belt he was wearing, he would have probably landed on Anne. As it was, she was mortified. Squeezing her eyes shut, she steeled herself for an explosion of temper.
Oddly enough, it was Mike Bennett who erupted. His nap rudely interrupted, he suddenly found himself sliding along the back seat with Anne's coat, which he had been using as a pillow, covering his face so he couldn't see. He was far from happy. Jerking the coat off his head, he uttered an explicit curse. "How the devil did you manage to land us in a ditch, Anne?" he growled. "I thought you said you could drive. Of all the clumsy, inept…"
"That's enough, Mike," Ty Manning interrupted tersely, giving the younger man one of his sternest silencing glares. Then he turned his cold blue eyes on Anne. "Are you all right?"
She gulped, then gave a jerky nod of her head. "I'm just sort of squashed up against the door, but I'm not hurt or anything. Oh, Mr. Manning, I'm so sorry. It all just happened so fast. I'm terribly sorry if I've damaged your car, but, well… I… usually I'm a good driver, really I am. I've never had an accident before in my life. I'm truly sorry, believe me. I…" As he stared at her, the expression in his blue eyes beyond analysis, her voice trailed off. The uneasy silence was broken almost immediately by Mike's thoroughly disgusted sigh.
Ty Manning shot him another withering glance, then said quite calmly, "I think we can blame the weather for this accident, not you, Miss Fairchild. Now, we'd better concern ourselves with getting out of the car." With amazing ease, he thrust open the door on the passenger side, unfastened his seat and shoulder belts, and lithely lifted himself out to drop to his feet on the snowy road with the graceful lightness of a big cat. As Mike struggled to open the back door to make his escape, Ty leaned back into the car, reaching out a lean tan hand.
Unable to look at him, Anne fumbled with the catch of her own seat belt. Her hands were still shaking so much from the shock of the accident that it took her some time to release it. Even when she had freed herself, she hesitated for a few tense seconds before finally, reluctantly, raising her arm. Her small slender hand was enveloped in Ty's much larger one. Strong fingers curved around her delicate wrist, gripping securely yet with astonishing gentleness. Then, almost before she could catch her breath, she was lifted halfway through the open door. In the next moment Ty's hands spanned her waist as he drew her out of the car and lowered her to the ground.
When he released her at once, she hastily smoothed the skirt of the beige wool jersey dress she wore. As he turned away to assess the damage to his car, she valiantly tried to subdue the tendril of hair that habitually escaped the otherwise-neat braided chignon on her nape, but her efforts were in vain, as usual. As if by magic, the strand escaped again to fall forward and tickle one flushed cheek. The cold wind was beginning to permeate her lightweight wool dress, and she rubbed her hands briskly over the long, cuffed sleeves covering her arms. She shifted her feet restlessly, grateful that it had been raining that morning when she had left for work. Lacking rubber rainboots, she had instead worn her knee-high brown leather boots, so at least it didn't matter that she was now standing in about four inches of snow.
Following Ty and Mike as they walked around to the back of the car, Anne winced, imagining how many dents and scratches she had put into the side as the car had ground to a halt in the ditch. Ty flicked back the sides of his coat, resting his hands on his hips as he stared expressionlessly at the Mercedes, but Mike was not inclined to be so silently tactful. He voiced his opinion clearly.
"Have you any idea how much a car like this costs?" he asked sharply, turning toward Anne. "Couldn't you have been more careful, for heaven's sake? I thought everybody knew not to slam on the brakes when driving in snow or ice."
With a defiant uptilting of her chin, Anne glared right back at him. "Can't you be quiet? I don't need you to tell me this is an expensive car. I didn't wreck it deliberately, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't keep trying to make me feel worse than I already do."
"Yes, drop it, Mike. You've said too much already," Ty agreed abruptly, thrusting his hands into his trouser pockets. "It's possible the accident wouldn't have happened if Miss Fairchild hadn't been tired. You were supposed to help her drive."
To his credit, Mike looked somewhat ashamed as he followed Ty back around onto the road. "Well, what now?" he muttered. "Do we just wait here until somebody comes along?"
"No. This road isn't very heavily traveled." Ty inclined his head toward the snow-covered, boulder-scattered meadow that sloped upward beyond the highway. "The house is right up there, just out of sight in that stand of trees at the top of the hill. It won't be a long walk." His dark brows lifted questioningly as he glanced at both Mike and Anne. "Or, you two could climb back into the car and wait here until I can drive back down in the jeep."
Mike's eyes brightened. "We'll wait."
"We'll go," Anne said simultaneously, and when Mike glared at her indignantly, she lifted her shoulders and spread her hands in a resigned gesture. "I'd just rather walk to the house than wait here in the car." A hint of excitement sparkled in her gray eyes. "Come on, a walk in the snow will give us a chance to stretch our legs after sitting in the car all that time. Just think of it as a little adventure, Mike."
Though a smile tugged upward at the corners of Ty's mouth, Mike wasn't amused. Frowning, he looked down at his feet ensconced in obviously new western-style boots. "I'd be nuts to go tramping through a meadow in these boots. They cost me $400."
"They shouldn't leak then," Ty remarked casually, his eyes narrowing enigmatically as he looked at Anne and found her biting her lower lip to fight a smile. Then he stepped past Mike and leaned into the car to pull out Anne's coat.
She slipped her arms into the sleeves as he held it for her. After murmuring her thanks, she stepped away from him again and wrapped the down coat snugly around her. It wasn't elegant. Slick and unwieldy, it took up far too much room in her closet and she suspected she looked like a shiny nylon-clad polar bear in it. But it was warm. And, at the moment, staying warm was more important than trying to appear elegant.
After Ty and Mike had retrieved their own overcoats from the car and put them on, the three of them walked across the road, stopping at the weathered split-rail fence that enclosed the meadow. Anne eyed it with some trepidation, not exactly eager to try to climb a fence in a dress. Apparently her uncertainty transmitted itself to Ty because he suddenly swept her up in his arms and put her down on the other side of the fence, saying softly, "There, that was simple enough, wasn't it?"
Though Anne nodded automatically, his action had been so unexpected that she was temporarily flustered. A blush tingled hotly in her cheeks, and to conceal it, she hastily pulled up her collar and hunched her shoulders, pretending to snuggle her face down in her coat as if she were trying to get warmer. Actually, she no longer felt cold at all, despite the icy wind that buffeted them. The blush that had risen in her cheeks seemed to be spreading heat over her entire body, but she supposed it was only natural to be a little embarrassed. Being swooped up in a man's arms without any warning whatsoever was disconcerting to say the least.
Leaving the fence behind, the three of them began climbing the sloping meadow. Anne had to quicken her pace to keep up with Ty, while Mike lagged along behind them, grumbling every step of the way. When he mumbled something about Anne's lack of driving ability, she stared back over her shoulder, but his head was bent so he didn't notice she was watching him.
