License to Thrill

by Tori Carrington

  Her mother’s face had loomed, superimposed, yes, pinched with disapproval, but also etched with worry. In that moment she realized she had another life to consider now. She also understood that she would always worry her mother. The condition went hand-in-hand with motherhood.

  But she couldn’t help thinking that if her father had been alive, if he had played a role in their lives, the load would have been easier for all of them.

  Melanie rolled over and pressed her face into the pillow. The insight had not come easily. After she had been released from the hospital and was at home, sitting in a daze in the back yard, and Craig had proposed—she had accepted.

  A proposal it was important for her now to reject. For both their sakes. And she owed it to him to discuss it face-to-face before telling anyone else.

  She sat and let her gaze wander around the room. There was something comforting about being in Marc’s room. She got up and ran a hand over a poster of a race car. The tape had come off the bottom right corner. Looking closer, she rolled it up a bit. No, it couldn’t be….

  It wasn’t difficult to loosen the yellow tape on the left corner. She rolled up the poster to confirm her suspicions. Grimacing, she stared at the definitive pinup poster. Farrah Fawcett. Well, that explained some things. Like why Marc was so obsessed with her breasts. Gad, this poster had to be…

  She looked at the flip hairstyle even she had emulated, not wanting to think about the time or the fact that she could remember it.

  She sighed and tried to smooth the race car poster. It immediately rolled halfway up. Didn’t these people ever paint?

  She smiled, counting all the things she had learned about Marc in the past twenty-four hours. His reluctant capacity for deep emotion. She pulled on her jeans, leaving on the faded Redskins T-shirt Marc had given her to wear. His close bond with his brothers. She slipped into her new athletic shoes. The tragedy in his past that had taken the only female influences from his life.

  Biting solidly on her bottom lip, she tried to ignore the things that came together in her mind. The poster that told her Marc held on tightly to the past. His cautious admission that he was afraid he’d never see her again.

  The only problem was the realization came about three months too late.

  She quickly made up the bed, then left the room and all its puzzles behind, descended the stairs and moved toward the side door. She hadn’t seen Marc, but she guessed he was probably outside watching the place. Which was just as well. Right now she really needed to talk to Sean.

  She was glad to find him in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee.

  “Morning. Sleep well?”

  Melanie’s face heated, remembering she hadn’t done much sleeping. “Great. I slept great.” She cleared her throat. “That coffee fresh?”

  “It’s drinkable.”

  She absently mimicked David’s movements from the night before, taking a mug from the cupboard and pouring herself a half cup of the hot java. A couple of sips couldn’t hurt.

  Sean took the cup from her hands and dumped the contents down the drain before she could open her mouth. “Jake dug out some decaffeinated something or other for you. Here it is.” He picked up a red-and-white box. “Tea.”

  Melanie grimaced. “I’d much rather have the coffee.”

  Sean filled the teapot, his actions his only response.

  Resigned, she sat at the table and pulled the crossword he’d been working on her way.

  “Hungry? Mitch read over the nutritional information on all of the cereal boxes and said this had the most vitamins.” Sean nudged a box in her direction.

  She laughed. “That’s the first time I’ve heard someone call sugar-coated cereal nutritious.”

  David stumbled into the room, his jeans slung low on his hips, shirtless, his hair sticking up at all angles. “I thought I heard you.” He reached into a cupboard and produced a banana. “Here. I saved this for you.”

  Melanie shook her head in disbelief. She’d thought Marc was a handful. Five more of him was too much.

  Still, it was much easier to accept the banana, pour the cereal into the bowl he handed her and allow Sean to pour some milk than it was to argue.

  Sean frowned at his youngest son. “David, don’t you think it would be a good idea to put some clothes on, what with a guest in the house and all?”

  David glanced at himself, seemingly unaffected by his half-dressed appearance. She guessed she was lucky he hadn’t wandered in in his boxer shorts. She shook her head again, the origins of Marc’s behavior becoming less and less a mystery. It must be genetic.

  David shrugged, then stumbled out of the room, leaving her and Sean alone.

  Melanie crunched on the cereal. “Sean,” she said tentatively between bites. “Do you remember what you said to me in the hospital?”

  She watched him stiffen. He faced the stove, apparently watching the kettle. “Depends on what you’re referring to.”

  Melanie shifted, uneasy. “About my deciding to keep the baby?”

  He slowly turned in her direction, his blue eyes serious beneath his bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows. “What, that I thought it was a good idea if you got married?”

  She nodded, remembering she hadn’t thought the advice outdated coming from him. He had seemed genuinely concerned about her raising a child on her own. Which was funny, because she would have suspected a conspiracy had her mother broached the subject. “You meant that I should marry Marc, didn’t you?”

  He was quiet for a moment before he said, “At first I did. I’d never seen my boy as worked up as he was while you were lying in that hospital. He hounded me night and day until I agreed to go in there, you know, on the sly.”

  His expression grew serious. “But the more I got to know you, and, well, after I met that Craig fellow…”

  Melanie stared into her cereal bowl, remembering when Craig had come to visit while she was talking to Sean.

  “And he appeared like a decent enough sort. Well, I thought that you were the better one to make the decision about who you should spend the rest of your life with.” He coughed. “You know, who should play the role as father of your baby.”

  She squinted at him. “But you’re the baby’s grandfather.”

  Sean turned as the kettle began to whistle. “My first. I know.” He took the kettle from the burner but didn’t make a move to fill the mug sitting on the counter. “Hell, Mellie, I didn’t do a very good job bringing my own boys up. I didn’t have any right telling you what you should do with your own child.” Silence reigned as he finally poured the water to let the tea steep. “I will say I’m awfully glad Marc knows about the child and that I’ll now get that chance to play granddaddy.” He smiled at her sadly. “That is, if you’ll let me.”

  “Of course I’ll let you,” Melanie whispered, her throat clogged with tears.

  She took her bowl to the sink, rinsed it and put it in the dishwasher. She joined Sean at the table. They sat across from each other.

  “Sean?”

  He lifted his gaze to hers.

  “Thanks.” She gestured absently with her hands. “Not just for now. But for…well, for being there when I was in the hospital.”

  She saw a depth of emotion in his eyes that made her chest tighten. A curiously familiar expression she swore she’d seen in Marc’s eyes. “Anytime, Mellie. Anytime.”

  12

  MARC SPOTTED MEL the instant she opened the door. His heart did a funny little thing in his chest just seeing her coming from the house he’d grown up in. She even caught the door before it could slam, as though she’d been doing it for years.

  He kicked the back of his boot against the large rock he sat on, wanting to call out to her but not sure if he should. While she slept last night, nestled safe and warm in his arms, he’d been wide-awake, mulling over everything.

  He watched her run a hand over her belly, appearing completely oblivious that she did it. He experienced a mixed burst of pride and fear and forced himself to
swallow a huge dose of reality.

  She doesn’t want you, sport.

  He looked around. The grass was overgrown, trampled beneath his and his brothers’ footsteps. He rubbed the back of his neck. The trouble was, he really couldn’t blame Mel for not wanting to marry him. The minute he’d learned about the baby, nearly the first words out of his mouth were, “You’re marrying me.” No romantic proposal, no declarations of love.

  Love.

  There was that word again.

  He grimaced. What in the hell did he know about love? Sure, he supposed he loved his family. But Mel? She walked to the front of the house, away from him. He did know that the first few days she’d been in that hospital he’d hurt like hell. And that when he’d thought he’d lost her… Well, the ring was still burning a hole in his pocket.

  He knew why he’d bought that engagement ring, but he didn’t really know why. He’d told himself it was because it was what Mel had wanted. But not even that excuse held water anymore. Not when he remembered how nervous he’d been when he’d decided on the ring because it matched the color of her eyes. Not when he’d felt both proud and scared to death when he’d stood outside the hospital, then later, outside her mother’s house, all decked out in a suit, ready to propose to her, only to discover she was marrying someone else.

  But did he love her?

  He bit off a curse. Mel at least deserved someone who knew what love was and knew how to show it.

  And his son? Or daughter, he quickly reminded himself. What did he or she deserve?

  “Someone who knows how to be a parent,” he said quietly.

  Truth be told, along with the excitement he felt about becoming a father, he was also more scared than he’d ever been in his life.

  Mel turned in his direction, apparently having heard him. He rubbed his face and looked at his watch. David should be taking over soon. He needed the break. While it was part of his job to go for long stretches on watch, the way his mind had been working overtime…well, he could use a good, long shower and a couple cups of coffee.

  “Here.”

  He looked up to find Mel standing directly in front of him, holding out a cup of what he’d just been dreaming about. He mumbled his thanks and took a long sip. He tried to hand it back.

  “I can’t have it, remember?” she said with a small smile. “Anyway, you look like you need it more than I do.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  She sat down on the rock next to him. “You’re welcome.”

  He scanned her profile, thinking she appeared as sober as he felt. Obviously she’d been doing some thinking of her own.

  “Well,” he murmured.

  She gave him a weak smile.

  A few minutes had passed in silence before she said, “I saw the poster of your old girlfriend on your wall.”

  He squinted against the rising sun. “Huh?”

  She looked at him for the first time since sitting down. “Farrah?”

  He continued to frown until he registered what she was saying. “Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Unfortunately I had to share her with the entire male population.” Just like I’m going to have to share you with one male in particular.

  The thought came out of nowhere.

  “I wanted to tell you that I…understand about your past,” she said.

  He scanned her face. What did a picture of a woman in a swimsuit have to do with his past? He grimaced and shook his head. He didn’t get it.

  And that was just the point. He would never understand how her mind worked. No matter how many women’s magazines and relationship books he read, none of it would help him when it came to Mel. “Connect to your feminine side,” one of the books had encouraged. He bit back a curse, finally admitting he might not have one of those. The stupid thing was, he wasn’t sure if he was upset about that—or relieved.

  He and Mel existed on two separate planes, their differences outnumbering their similarities. That had bothered him since the beginning. It might very well be what made him hang back when she had sought a closer connection.

  He rubbed his palm against the rough denim of his jeans. “You’d better go inside. I don’t want you to catch a chill.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  He sighed. “Let me rephrase that. My watch is over, all right? I’m going inside. Would you like to come, or do you want to stay out here?”

  She lifted her chin. “I think I’ll sit out here awhile longer.”

  Marc shrugged, pretending he didn’t care. “Have it your way.”

  He began to get up, then sat down. “By the way, I think you’re right. You shouldn’t marry me. In fact, I think it’s a pretty good idea if you go ahead and marry Craig.”

  MELANIE SAT in stunned silence, watching Marc squirm next to her.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out quite that way,” he said, looking torn. He cleared his throat and met her gaze head-on. “You said you loved Craig. And I’m sure he loves you. And the baby… Well, I can still play a role in his life, can’t I?”

  Melanie’s mind refused to register what he was saying.

  “Look, Marc—”

  He shook his head. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do any more explaining. Your reasons for not marrying me have finally settled in. I won’t be bothering you anymore.” He rose from the rock and started walking toward the house.

  Melanie finally convinced herself she wasn’t hearing things and leaped up.

  “What?” she asked, hurrying after him. “What did you just say?”

  She reached him and nearly ran right into him. “You can’t just say something like that, then walk away! I want an explanation.”

  She would have thought he looked altogether too cute, too tortured. If only she wasn’t feeling as if he’d ripped her heart out.

  “What’s there left to explain, Mel? You love Craig. I’m assuming he loves you. I don’t want to stand in the way of your happiness. It was wrong of me to do so to begin with.”

  She didn’t know whether she wanted to hit him or burst out crying.

  The sound of a car engine broke the early morning silence. It took a second for her to recognize it. By the time she did, Marc had pulled the gun from the waist of her jeans and was hustling her toward the house.

  “Get inside.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Come on, Mel, now is not the time for an argument.”

  Her gaze flicked toward the approaching car. It looked familiar, but she couldn’t be sure from this distance. The door opened, and Sean pulled her inside just as David and a half-dressed Mitch came thundering into the kitchen.

  Melanie’s heart beat double time. She looked down, realizing Marc had taken her gun. Her hands rested solidly against her belly, as though protecting the child there.

  She caught Sean’s expression. Emotions Melanie could recognize swept through the older man’s eyes. Joy, sorrow, undiluted fear for her and his grandchild. Had he heard the exchange between her and Marc? Did he know Marc had told her to marry another man?

  The moment was broken when Jake ran by, buttoning a shirt over his unfastened slacks. Melanie stared, dumbfounded by how quickly they got going. Sure, they were all in law enforcement, but these McCoys… As witless as they appeared on a personal level, they were like a well-tuned military unit used to dealing with situations like this. She shuddered, wondering if that could be the case.

  No…

  “Oh, no, you don’t, Mellie.” Sean blocked her way when she was ready to bolt out the door. “You’re going to stay inside and keep yourself and my grandchild safe.”

  For the second time that morning, Melanie felt her face go hot. If the command had come from Marc, she would have fought him. But his father she couldn’t refuse.

  “Do you really think it’s Hooker?” she asked.

  He frowned. “I don’t know, but I suspect the boys will find out soon enough.”

  She nodded and stayed in the living room. For the sake of her
baby.

  She sank into the recliner and rested her head in her hands. She pondered exactly how she had gotten into this mess and whether or not anything would ever be the same again.

  She started to get up to look through the front window when an arm snaked around her from behind, pinning her to the chair.

  “Don’t move,” a male voice warned.

  Oh, God.

  Cold fear ran straight through Melanie, paralyzing her as much as the command. It had to be Hooker.

  Her mind raced crazily. How did he get in? She flashed to that morning, when she’d found the house stuffy and had rebelliously opened a window Marc had locked. She smelled the fresh Virginia air on Hooker’s clothes. He had likely just gained access, which meant he’d likely come in while she had been talking to Marc.

  She closed her eyes. If anything proved her decision to resign her position with the secret service had been right, her actions that morning did. She’d allowed emotion and just plain insolence to interfere with the protection against a serious threat, undermining the actions of those who had sworn to help her. Every one of the McCoy brothers was even now swooping down on what might be an innocent visitor, while she had not only let Hooker into the house…she was utterly alone with him.

  Her throat tightening, Melanie reached for a gun that was no longer there.

  “Stay quiet.” Her assailant released his grasp and rounded the chair. Melanie’s stomach hurt so much she thought she might experience her first bout of morning sickness.

  “Hooker,” she whispered.

  “This isn’t exactly the way I planned things, Mel. You have to understand that.” He appeared nervous. Melanie knew from training and experience that a panicky man was the most dangerous one. He was more apt to act out of fear than to think things through. Her gaze was glued to the gun in his shaking hands.