Local Hero

started down to Mitch’s apartment at her son’s request. She had to admit it had been foolish of her to try. On the surface, anyone would think that Mitch Dempsey was the solution to many of her problems. He was genuinely fond of Radley, and gave her son both a companion and a safe and convenient place to stay while she worked. His time was flexible, and he was very generous with it.
    The truth was, he’d complicated her life. No matter how much she tried to look at him as Radley’s friend or her slightly odd neighbor, he brought back feelings she hadn’t experienced in almost ten years. Fluttery pulses and warm surges were things Hester had attributed to the very young or the very optimistic. She’d stopped being either when Radley’s father had left them.
    In all the years that had followed that moment, she’d devoted herself to her son—to making the best possible home for him, to make his life as normal and well-balanced as possible. If Hester the woman had gotten lost somewhere in the shuffle, Radley’s mother figured it was a fair exchange. Now Mitch Dempsey had come along and made her feel and, worse, had made her wish.
    Taking a deep breath, Hester knocked on Mitch’s door. Radley’s friend’s door, she told herself firmly. The only reason she was here was because Radley had been so excited about showing her something. She wasn’t here to see Mitch; she wasn’t hoping he would reach out and run his fingertips along her cheek as he sometimes did. Hester’s skin warmed at the thought of it.
    Hester linked her hands together and concentrated on Radley. She would see whatever it was he was so anxious for her to see, and then she would get them both back upstairs to their own apartment—and safety.
    Mitch answered the door. He wore a sweatshirt sporting a decal of a rival super hero across the chest, and sweatpants with a gaping hole in one knee. There was a towel slung over his shoulders. He used one end of it to dry the sweat off his face.
    “You haven’t been out running in this weather?” she asked before she’d allowed herself to think, immediately regretting the question and the obvious concern in her voice.
    “No.” He took her hand to draw her inside. She smelled like the springtime that was still weeks and weeks away. Her dark blue suit gave her a look of uncreased professionalism he found ridiculously sexy. “Weights,” he told her. The fact was, he’d been lifting weights a great deal since he’d met Hester Wallace. Mitch considered it the second best way to decrease tension and rid the body of excess energy.
    “Oh.” So that explained the strength she’d felt in his arms. “I didn’t realize you went in for that sort of thing.”
    “The Mr. Macho routine?” he said, laughing. “No, I don’t, actually. The thing is, if I don’t work out regularly, my body turns into a toothpick. It’s not a pretty sight.” Because she looked nervous enough to jump out of her skin, Mitch couldn’t resist. He leered and flexed his arm. “Want to feel my pecs?”
    “I’ll pass, thanks.” Hester kept her hands by her sides. “Mr. Rosen sent this package.” She slipped the fat bank portfolio out from where she’d held it at her side. “Just remember, you asked for it.”
    “So I did.” Mitch accepted it, then tossed it on a pile of magazines on the coffee table. “Tell him I’ll pass it along.”
    “And will you?”
    He lifted a brow. “I usually keep my word.”
    She was certain of that. It reminded her that he’d said they would talk, and soon. “Radley called and said there was something he had to show me.”
    “He’s in the office. Want some coffee?”
    It was such a casual offer, so easy and friendly, that she nearly agreed. “Thanks, but we really can’t stay. I had to bring some paperwork home with me.”
    “Fine. Just go on in. I need a drink.”
    “Mom!” The minute she stepped into the office, Radley jumped up and grabbed her hands. “Isn’t it great? It’s the neatest present I ever got in my life.” With his hands still locked on hers, Radley dragged her over to a scaled-down drawing board.
    It wasn’t a toy. Hester could see immediately that it was top-of-the-line equipment, if child size. The small swivel stool was worn, but the seat was leather. Radley already had graph paper tacked to the board, and with compass and ruler had begun what appeared to be a set of blueprints.
    “Is this Mitch’s?”
    “It was, but he said I could use it now,