Marc laced his fingers behind his head, his expression growing decidedly playful. Mel fought not to watch the way his stomach muscles lengthened under the soft cotton of his shirt. “This is about that damned wedding again, isn’t it?”
Melanie stared at him, wide-eyed. “This doesn’t—I mean it isn’t—”
“Admit it, Mel, everything was fine and dandy until I charged back into your life and messed things up.”
It was suddenly impossible for her to swallow. “Don’t you mean when Hooker escaped and restarted a nightmare I thought had ended?”
He rose from the couch in one long, languid move. “Nope. I mean when I charged back into your life.”
“But you aren’t back in my life, per se,” she whispered. “We’re no longer partners….” She trailed off, watching as he moved ever closer. She fought to hold on to her words. “We’re not partners anymore. Not in any sense of the word.”
“And you want me to believe that in three months, you found someone who could replace what took us two years to build?” He was within breathing distance, and Melanie did just that. She took in a long, slow breath, filling her senses with the utterly masculine smell of him.
Never one for expensive colognes, despite the many brands she bought for him for Valentine’s Day, birthdays and Christmas, he preferred using a citrusy aftershave that enhanced rather than covered his unique smell. Obviously that hadn’t changed. She fought the desire to hum, likening the smell to warm soap, lapping ocean waves and the pungent scent of a freshly peeled orange.
“I’ve known Craig for much longer than I’ve known you. A lifetime, in fact.”
Marc reached out and caught a stray tendril of hair that had curled over her cheek. Suddenly incapable of drawing any breath at all, Mel merely watched him, shivering when he gently tucked the strand behind her ear. “Ah, yes, I remember you telling me about Craig. He was the one who lost his breakfast when you and he were assigned to dissect a frog in science class. Let’s see if I can remember correctly. In the third grade, right?”
“Fifth,” she said, her voice hoarse.
He met her gaze, the depths of his brown eyes dizzying. “Funny, Mel, I don’t remember you telling me that you two had gone out.”
“He was the first guy I ever kissed.”
“On a dare.”
This was not going well, at all. Yes, she knew she’d told him all this. She hadn’t been aware he’d been listening. “There was always something between us….” Her gaze dropped to Marc’s mouth, which was turned up in a teasingly suggestive smile. She licked her lips. “Between Craig and I, I mean.” He didn’t have to know it was friendship.
“Tell me something, Mel. Does he make you pant the way I did?”
The brush of his palm against her right nipple caused a massive shudder to travel the length of her body. She knew she should move away from him, protest the familiar, intimate touch, but she could do little more than stand transfixed, wanting him to touch her and…more.
“He makes me happy.”
The smile finally vanished. “Outside of the bedroom. How’s he going to make you feel inside?”
He cupped her breast, very obviously avoiding contact with the straining tip. She stifled a moan and tried to stop herself from leaning into his touch. “I’m sure he’ll be very good.”
“Oh? Has there been evidence of that?”
Another scrape of his thumb across her nipple, another shudder that seemed to begin and end in her heated core.
“I don’t think this is a very good idea, Marc. We should, um—” she licked her lips again, her gaze fixed on his mouth “—we should be discussing how we’re going to trap Hooker.”
“Uh-uh.” He slowly shook his head. “The only thing I’m interested in catching right now is you.”
Despite all her arguments, she knew he already had her.
His mouth came down on hers. Mel gave up the fight and melted against him, surprised by how very much she had longed to feel Marc’s arms around her. Only his arms weren’t around her. His right hand still lay against her breast. His other arm was frustratingly at his side.
Melanie leaned closer, putting her arms around his neck and drawing him nearer, coaxing his tongue into her mouth, teasing him with little flicks of her own that she knew had once driven him crazy. Still he kept his free arm to himself.
Whimpering deep in her throat, she rubbed against him, pleased to feel his erection. Tilting her hips forward, she shimmied against him in a hungry way she knew not even he could deny.
And he didn’t. Threading his fingers through the hair above her ears, he kissed her more thoroughly than he ever had, delving deeply into her mouth, his breath coming in rapid, telling gasps. Still, it wasn’t enough for Melanie. She grabbed the back of his shirt, tugged it from the waist of his jeans, then plunged her hands under the soft material to touch the even softer length of his hot skin.
Before she was aware he had taken his hand from her hair, she felt his fingers graze the front of her damp panties. She nearly collapsed against him as a long shudder took hold of her, shimmering through her sex-starved body even as she moved her hips against his probing fingers. He groaned and slid his fingers inside the edging.
Oh, how long she had waited for this. Dreamed about this. Marc touching her…
“Yes, yes,” she murmured against his mouth.
“No.”
6
“NO,” MARC SAID AGAIN.
It took a long, bracing moment to realize the word had come from his mouth. Beneath his fingers, Mel’s skin was hot. Against his body, hers was soft and pliable. Against his mouth, hers was wet and seeking.
No? No? Why on God’s green earth would he ever say no? He stared into her sleepy eyes and nearly groaned. He’d wanted to bury himself deep in her ever since he saw her coming out of that damn bridal shop. Hell, his need for her went back further than that. Way further. Back when he’d stood outside that damned hospital, battling demons he hadn’t known still existed, holding that stupid ring. Demons that wouldn’t allow him to set foot inside that cold, antiseptic building where people were supposed to heal. The only memories he had of hospitals were of people dying.
“No.”
This time there was no mistaking the word had come from him. He was harder than steel, his blood pumped through his veins like an overworked locomotive, and Mel was hotter than she’d ever been for him. Even now her hungry mouth slid to his ear despite his words.
He grasped her arms and pushed her away from him. Her face was flushed and provocative, but despite the groan that echoed through him, Marc knew he was doing the right thing. Mel would hate him if he took advantage of her like this.
Take advantage of Mel. He nearly laughed out loud. If only his tortured body wasn’t battling him for control.
Mel’s drugged eyes searched his face. “Isn’t this what you wanted, Marc? To make me pant at your feet?” He watched her swallow.
His fingers dug into her soft flesh. “Not like this. Not this way.”
“What way, then?” She tugged her gaze away from his face and whispered, “This may be your last chance. In two days I become somebody else’s wife.” Was it him or had her voice cracked on that last word? “You might want to take what you can, while you can.”
If any words were capable of proving he’d made the right decision about pulling away, those were. He refused to have sex with her while she was still determined to marry that—that Craig.
Good comeback, McCoy.
He forced himself to turn away from her, the action one of the hardest things he’d ever done. It fell a solid second. The first thing on the list was visiting Mel in that infernal hospital.
“I’m…I’m going to get the rest of the things out of the Jeep.”
MELANIE STOOD near the barred window and rubbed her arms despite the heat as Marc moved around behind her, unpacking. Her body still pulsed with need. Her head swam with confusion. She couldn’t guess at the reason he had pushed he
r away. Her ability to understand anything he did or felt was notably faulty.
Before their breakup, she had convinced herself he loved her. She’d thought she felt it in his touch when their lovemaking had become somehow more…meaningful. Slower, more thoughtful and ultimately more thrilling. Had thought she saw it in the depths of his eyes when he looked at her. Then the night before her run-in with Hooker, while lying slick and breathless in his arms, she had made the mistake of saying she loved him.
She closed her eyes against the memory. But it was useless. The lines of his shocked face were forever etched into her mind. She hugged herself to keep from remembering the way he’d practically leaped away from her. She’d found him so damned cute despite her pain that she’d nearly cried.
Then she’d been shot, and he had left her lying alone in the hospital.
Melanie tried to ignore the dull ache in her heart as she slowly turned to watch Marc disappear into the bathroom. She reminded herself that it hadn’t been the only time she’d misread his intentions. She absently examined her wrists. She’d thought he’d thrown her over his shoulder earlier tonight to keep her from marrying Craig.
Her cheeks burned with the knowledge of how wrong she’d been…again.
She’d known from the beginning that Marc wasn’t the type to commit. She even admitted that his aversion to commitment had proved a magnet of sorts. What woman could resist seducing a man of Marc’s caliber into their way of thinking?
The room was unbearably quiet. She tried to find some relief in the idea that she’d chosen someone like Marc. A man with honor, dedicated to his career. A man who knew wrong from right. But did it really matter if she’d chosen him or a Johnny-Be-Bad Biker, when all was said and done? Ultimately she’d fallen in love with a man she couldn’t have.
A man who would have as much interest in being a father as he’d had in being a husband.
She tightly closed her eyes, trying to quell the little thrills of awareness that continued to slink through her body. Despite the hunger for excitement that had propelled her to become a secret service agent and had ushered her into Marc’s arms, ultimately she had wanted what every other woman wanted: love.
“Mel?”
She looked up at the sound of his voice. His concerned expression made her put a hand to her face. She was crying…again.
Hating that her hormonally influenced emotions made her so weak, she scrubbed at her cheeks and whispered, “I must have some dust in my eyes.”
He shifted, apparently uneasy. “Dust?”
She nodded, then lifted her chin. “Did you want something?”
He gestured toward the bathroom, where she could hear the water running. “Yeah, um, it’s ready.”
“Ready?” she repeated numbly, peering around him.
He seemed to hesitate, then moved aside. “Yeah, I thought, you know, maybe you would want to take a bath.”
A bath? She blinked several times. Had he just said…No. He couldn’t have. She hadn’t taken a bath since…well, since forever. Both she and Marc were shower people. She looked into the bathroom and noticed the shower curtain had been tied back and that the showerhead was notably dry.
She also noticed that three dozen or so candles in varying colors and sizes had been lighted and placed around the small room.
Her gaze flew to Marc.
He was looking at the stupid fan. “I think I’ll go fix us something to eat.”
Eat? Melanie swallowed hard and watched as he hurried toward the kitchen, closing the door after himself.
For long moments, she stood firmly in place, staring first at the tendrils of steam rising off the filling tub, then the closed kitchen door. Finally, her brain began to work, however sluggishly, and she slowly entered the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
With the light from the flickering candles, the walls looked artfully worn rather than dingy. The illusion was helped along by the thick new towels folded neatly over the sink, the huge bath mat covering the floor and the nightgown hanging on the back of the door. She fingered the soft material, tears gathering in her eyes as she noted the high collar and the long length. Marc had always preferred her to wear lingerie that was a little more risqué, a little more transparent. That he had chosen this…
Her gaze trailed to the glossy pink bag she had spotted at the condo. It had been shoved into the wastebasket, one of the tags he must have cut dangling over the side. Everything before her indicated he had planned in advance. If only the overwhelming evidence didn’t prove that this particular plan had nothing to do with protecting her from Tom Hooker.
She realized the water was about to overflow and moved to turn off the old-fashioned two-handled faucet. She trailed her fingers in the steaming water and breathed in the scent of— She picked up the bottle of bath oil. Her throat clogged. Jasmine.
She indulged in a watery smile. She didn’t know what had gotten into Marc, but only he could do something so incredibly sweet at the most inappropriate time.
She stood up, not knowing quite what to do. Marc had not only carved out a safe haven for her by way of the cabin, he’d created an oasis of sorts, as well. She sat on the edge of the claw-footed tub and peeled off her panty hose, not sure what to make of his actions.
All she could think about was how heavenly the water smelled.
And how she should be careful not to read more into Marc’s unusually thoughtful actions than was there.
MARC SET the last plate on the coffee table, then straightened, surveying his handiwork. The place didn’t look so bad now that there were signs people inhabited it. He grimaced. At least he thought so. As for Mel…
His gaze trailed to the closed bathroom door. Left with nothing more to do until she came out, he stepped toward the door and listened. She’d been in there for a long time. If there had been a window in there, he would have guessed she’d be long gone by now. But there wasn’t.
He hadn’t known how Mel would take the bath bit. He’d half-expected her to label him crazy, and he’d come close to pulling the plug himself. He’d found the idea in an article, “Ten Ways to Win Back Your Lover for Good.” He’d thought the notion was a bit twisted, but he admitted finding the bath tempting once he’d filled the tub.
There was a sound. Quickly stepping back from the door, he wondered if the nervousness that charged through him was noticeable.
So far every point of his plan had gone horribly, terribly wrong. Rather than convincing Mel to drop her wedding plans and take up where they’d left off, he was sure he had further alienated her, though he wasn’t exactly sure why. Which just wouldn’t do at all.
The door finally opened, making him jump. So much for keeping his cool.
And so much for that nightgown he’d bought to keep his libido under control.
Uh-oh. Marc’s gaze was plastered to Mel’s uncertain expression. He tried to ignore the jutting of one curvy hip and the inviting way her breasts pressed against the pale silk that nearly matched the shade of her hair. He failed miserably.
“Hungry?” he asked, clearing his throat and flinching at his word choice. Keep it safe, McCoy. Keep it simple. And keep it far away from anything to do with sex…for now.
“Um, yes, a little.”
Mel responded to his question, but she didn’t move an inch from where she stood. She gave him one of those sinful little smiles of hers, shifted her weight from one bare foot to the other, then slid her hand down the length of the silk. Marc swallowed hard, watching the pale material mold to her perfect body.
He let rip a vehement curse and tore his gaze away from her.
It took every shred of control he had to ignore her. He noticed the slight quake of his hands, and his blood pulsed so thickly through his veins he could hear the roar of it in his ears. But he couldn’t let happen what he was afraid was going to happen until he could prove to Mel he had changed. Maybe not in all the ways she wanted him to—love was a word that had never been used in the McCoy household—but he did wa
nt her in his life, badly. Things had been good between them. So good. And they could be again.
And he was willing to do whatever it took to make sure that happened.
Mel finally moved, but the slinky way she did made him wish she had stayed where she was. With short, measured steps, she came to stand in front of him, the evidence of her arousal clearly evident by the two points smiling at him through the silk. His throat—along with another body part—tightened painfully.
“Shall I sit here?”
Before he could get a word out of his mouth, Mel turned to fluff the cushions on the couch. He’d always thought she’d had a great rear end, but the way the silk outlined the lush, rounded flesh…
It was then he realized there were no lines. No lines.
He’d forgotten to buy her panties.
I can handle this. I can handle this….
“Excuse me.” His voice was barely a croak. “I’ll be, um, right back.”
He disappeared into the kitchen, switched on the broiler, then stood gripping the rim of the sink for dear life. He turned on the water and resisted the urge to plunge his head under the cold stream. Instead, he splashed his face several times.
He was afraid if he went back into the living room, he wouldn’t be able to resist making love to her. And if he did that, he was sure he’d lose her forever. After Hooker was caught, she’d go away believing he’d only wanted her for sex. Which was what she’d accused him of before.
Nearly burning himself, he took the hefty helping of Cheddar fries and burgers from the broiler. Then he took a deep breath, praying for some major help to see him through this night.
He took the food into the living room and placed it on the table, along with the other things he’d set out. He’d made all her favorites. But as he watched her look it over, he thought she seemed about as hungry for food as he was.
He purposely knelt on the floor on the other side of the table, not about to test himself by sitting next to her.
License to Thrill Page 9