He watched her mount the front steps, briefly stooping to pluck a withered leaf from the pink mums. She looked good in the long khaki shorts and blue top. Nice shapely legs, toned arms, smooth creamy skin... He sure liked the way she felt in his arms, all feminine and curvy, and damn, but her hair was soft. She’d be tentative in bed, he guessed, but only at first. With the right man, the right touch...
Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him? By no stretch was he the right man. Not for someone like her. He should be buying her neighbor a beer for interrupting them. How many times did Lucas have to remind himself he wanted only uncomplicated sex? He had a thick skull—he’d admit it—but he wasn’t usually this stupid. That woman defined complicated. A churchgoing do-gooder. Yeah, just what he needed. The calculating do-gooders he knew in Denver—those were the kind of women for him. From now on his dealings with Melanie had to be strictly business related.
Sweat gathered at the back of his neck and he threw the truck out of Park. Why was she just standing at the door? He knew it wasn’t locked.
She glanced back at him, nibbling that lush lower lip of hers, then turned and hurried toward the truck.
If he had a lick of sense he’d just take off. Pretend he hadn’t seen her. With the tinted windows, she wouldn’t know otherwise. She pulled the door open.
“What?”
At his harsh tone she jumped. Too bad it didn’t scare her into the house. She blinked, then smiled as if she knew his bark didn’t mean he’d bite. Thinking she knew him was going to get her in trouble.
“Come to dinner tomorrow,” she said, her lips lifting in an excited smile.
“Here?”
“Yes, here. I’ll put leashes on the neighbors.”
He slid a look at the house next to hers. The porch light was still on. “You sure?”
“I am. Is six okay? Six-thirty?”
“Tell me when—I’ll be here.”
“Five-thirty,” she said and laughed. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright.
Dammit, he wanted to kiss her. “Five-thirty,” he agreed and started to sweat in earnest.
* * *
“THANK YOU, BUT I have plans,” she said for the fifth time. It seemed half the congregation wanted her over for supper. She really, really hoped it was a coincidence and had nothing to do with Lucas. Sometimes she hated living in a small town.
Shirley clutched the brim of her big white hat, saving it from the stiff breeze. With her free hand she took Melanie’s arm and drew her toward the shady side of the stone church where her father had just delivered his sermon on tolerance. “You’re not working on a Sunday, are you?”
Oh, brother.
Yes, this was absolutely about Lucas. If Shirley wanted to chitchat, it was always with Melanie’s mother, not Melanie. Unless Shirley was being nosy. Like right now.
“I’m sorry, Shirley, would you excuse me? I think Gertrude and Pauline are looking for their ride.” She waved at the two women, who frowned at her for disturbing their weekly in-person gossip session with the Lemon sisters. “I’ll see you next Sunday.” She rushed off, leaving Shirley gaping after her. Oh, well—she’d get over it.
“Melanie. Wait.”
She all but froze at the sound of David’s deep husky voice behind her. It was the only thing about him she found appealing. At least in a sexual way. He was her boss, and he’d been supportive of her efforts to use Safe Haven as a teaching medium. She appreciated his willingness to try new things. Her former principal, whom David had replaced a year ago, had refused to entertain any sort of change.
Unfortunately, it was becoming more and more apparent that gratitude and respect weren’t what David wanted from her.
Pasting on a smile, she turned to him. He seemed pale, or maybe that was his natural coloring and she hadn’t paid that much attention. “You’re here. I didn’t see you during the service.”
“I was in the back. Had a late start this morning.” He always wore a suit to church even though no one else did. His shoes were polished and his hair combed straight back. The man took pride in his appearance—she’d give him that. He even drove all the way to Kalispell for his haircuts. “Fine sermon your father gave.” David smiled. “As always.”
“Yes, he does have a gift.” She leaned toward him, too late realizing she’d opened herself up to be misunderstood. “Other pastors used to put me to sleep when I was a kid,” she whispered and quickly drew back, but not before he felt sufficiently comfortable to touch her arm.
His smile was pleasant, his blue eyes unremarkable. They were nothing remotely like Lucas’s color. She banished the errant thought. This wasn’t a competition.
“I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch,” he said, taking his hand from her arm. “Not alone.” He cleared his throat, the neutral smile back in place. “The Andersons invited us over.”
“Oh, how thoughtful of them, but I can’t.” She glanced over at Gertrude and Pauline. No doubt they wanted to linger, but she had to get out of here. “Please give the Andersons my regrets.”
“Melanie.” He caught her arm. “How about dinner? We could go to Kalispell. No one would have to know,” he added in a low voice. “Not that I’m suggesting anything unprofessional. But I am your boss and I know how people talk.”
She’d known this moment was coming. He’d asked her to coffee a few times, and she’d even gone once, though she’d kept the conversation about work. Same thing whenever they’d shared a table in the teachers’ lounge for lunch. Asking her to dinner was different. So was his steady gaze, as if he was dissecting every facet of her reaction.
“I can’t,” she said simply. “I have plans.”
He wasn’t pleased. “Another time perhaps?”
“Sure.” She could tell he didn’t believe her. That was fine. Let him think what he wanted. He’d started coming to church only six months ago, after he’d tried and failed to start getting personal with her. And worse, he’d become chummy with her father. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, huh?”
She smiled and left to say a quick goodbye to her mother. Today she was too excited to stand around listening to everyone sing her father’s praises. She wanted to get home and start dinner. Not that she was making an elaborate meal to impress Lucas. She was a decent cook, and her standard pot roast would be perfectly sufficient. What she wanted was to be out of the kitchen before he arrived. Shea was returning tomorrow, and tonight might be the last time Melanie would have Lucas to herself.
The thought was almost enough to depress her. She slowed her breathing, slowed her hurried steps. No good would come of her becoming too wrapped up with Lucas. Yes, he’d shown interest in her. She had no doubt tonight could end up with him discovering she had a truly terrific mattress.
Heavens, she couldn’t even think the word sex. Not right in front of the church. And her father. She stopped several feet from her mother. LaDonna Knowles was the perfect minister’s wife. She always knew the proper thing to say, always dressed the part, lent an ear to anyone who needed her, and she always, without fail, put her husband and the church first.
Melanie wasn’t at all like her, no matter what people seemed overly fond of repeating. It wasn’t that she couldn’t live up to her mother’s selflessness. Melanie didn’t want to be that person. She was deeply grateful to have been raised to be kind and generous. She just didn’t want to completely give up her own life. Be scrutinized and judged by everyone who knew her. She doubted anyone, including her parents, had forgiven her for moving to town to be on her own.
She briefly squeezed her eyes shut. Was she being a complete fool? Was this some ridiculous rebellion that would end up biting her in the behind? She might not be the image of her mom, but it wasn’t like her to be this twisted up over a man, a stranger even, who was totally out of her league. He’d be gone soon, and life would be
tedious and predictable again. And possibly minus the cushion of her “good girl” reputation. And what about her Safe Haven project? If she made David angry, he could shut her down.
No, she was letting nerves get the better of her. Everyone knew she was involved with Safe Haven. It was reasonable for her to have Lucas over for dinner. She wouldn’t be reckless about it. People would see his truck. They’d know he was at her house. She’d shoo him out before dark. What happened between five-thirty and eight-thirty would be only speculation on the part of her neighbors. She could live with that.
She spotted Gertrude laughing it up with the Lemon sisters, all of them wearing their Sunday best. Gertrude and Pauline would object to being rushed, but too bad. Melanie caught her mother’s eye. She smiled and gave a small nod, as if she knew Melanie was anxious to leave.
“Okay, ladies, your driver doesn’t have all day,” she said as she approached the group, bracing herself for their protest.
The Lemon twins and Pauline either hadn’t heard or were ignoring her. Not Gertrude, though. She looked Melanie up and down, then gave her a peculiar smile.
“Why? You got a hot date with that hunk of yours?” The question alone was surprising. But that Gertrude lowered her voice so only Melanie could hear was the shocker.
“And what if I do?”
“I’d say it’s about damn time someone lit a fire under you.” Gertrude hitched her shawl up over her shoulders and gripped her walker. “Come on, Pauline. Quit yakking. We’ve gotta hit the road.”
10
LUCAS HAD SHAVED AGAIN. Two days in a row. His overworked razor was likely to go on strike. He parked the truck in the same place where he’d sat idling last night and walked to Melanie’s front door.
She opened it before he knocked. “You’re right on time.”
“Hi.” He waited for her to move. She stayed put. “Are you going to let me in?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” She sighed and rolled her eyes as she backed up. Today her shorts were black and shorter than the khaki ones. Her feet were bare. He hid a smile at her bright pink toenails.
Her red button-down blouse was more conservative and tucked neatly into her waistband. He wondered if her bra was red, too, and lacy, then wondered if he was going to find out. Man, he had to stop that train. This was only dinner.
So far.
“I thought about bringing wine or flowers,” he muttered, only now remembering his hat. He yanked it off. “But I figured you wouldn’t want this looking like a date. To your neighbors.”
Goddammit, he was nervous all of a sudden.
“Thank you.” Her smile lit the room. “That was thoughtful,” she said, motioning for him to follow her. “People around here are weird.”
“Not all of them.”
She was so quick to look over her shoulder that she caught him checking out her butt. He shifted his gaze, pretending interest in the hook rug covering the hardwood floor, then studied the floral couch and sturdy oak coffee table.
“Nice place,” he murmured and met her eyes.
She was trying not to laugh.
“What?”
The dam broke. She pressed her lips together but she was already laughing too hard, and not in a particularly ladylike fashion. “I’m nervous, okay? I laugh when I’m nervous. I can’t help it.”
“No need to be jumpy. It’s just dinner.” Now that he’d found a measure of cool after being jittery himself, he had some nerve. “Right?”
She stopped long enough for him to see the yearning in her brown eyes, the slight parting of her lips. His good intentions, the vow he’d made to keep the evening platonic... Everything vanished. He sent his Stetson sailing toward the couch and reached for her. She came willingly into his arms, drawing in a shuddering breath. The vibration echoed in his chest when she pressed against him.
Her nipples were tight and hard enough he could feel them through the layers of their clothing. She hugged his neck, pressing her body closer when he cupped her rounded bottom with both hands and took her with an openmouthed kiss. She was more than ready, her eager tongue warm and welcoming, her soft sexy whimper stoking a fire low in his belly.
He had to slow himself down. Slow them both down before they leaped into something she wasn’t ready for. Another minute and he wouldn’t be able to think clearly. Skimming his hands up her back, he tried to gentle the kiss. But she tasted too good, felt too good and smelled too good. He had to go cold turkey.
Gripping her upper arms, he set her away from him.
The sound of their harsh breathing seemed to echo off the walls and fill the house. She blinked, looking confused, disoriented, swiftly dissolving into humiliation. Averting her eyes, she jerked a shoulder, trying to free her arm.
“Hey.” He caught her chin and brought her gaze back to his. “I’m sorry I pushed.”
“I think it was the other way around. But thanks.”
“We’ll call it a draw,” he said, and she gave him a small shy smile. Releasing her chin, he trailed his thumb along the line of her delicate jaw, then brushed the hair away from her flushed cheeks. He knew better. Knew damn well he should’ve moved out of reach. Trust him to keep his hand in the fire. “You smell good.”
“I think that’s the pot roast.”
He smiled. “I believe I know the difference.”
Her lips twitched and she started to say something, then apparently reconsidered. “I think the roast is done,” she said, leading him into the airy kitchen. “What did you do today?”
Watching the slight sway of her hips and catching glimpses of her pink toenails weren’t doing him any favors. His jeans were still too snug even after adjusting his fly. He forced himself to check out the kitchen. The light tan paint job looked new, and he could easily picture Melanie standing on a ladder, patiently applying the blue-and-white stenciled border a few inches from the white ceiling. She’d be wearing old denim cutoffs that rode low on her hips and showed a lot of shapely leg.
Okay, that hadn’t gone as planned.
He saw her expectant frown and realized she’d asked him a question. “I spent a few hours at Safe Haven.” He glanced around again. “How long have you lived here?”
“Six months.” She lifted the lid off a pot on the stove and used a long wooden spoon to stir the contents. “What were you doing out there?”
“Talking to Levi and Kathy.” The hearty aroma of stewing meat reminded him he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. “Is all this your handiwork?” he asked, gesturing to the walls.
“Yep. And most of the tiled floor.... I will never, ever, ever do that again. I ended up having to pay someone to fix my mistakes.” She shrugged. “Next I’m tackling the countertop. I really hate this yellow Formica.”
Lucas smiled. No one could call her a quitter. “Ever done a counter?”
“No.” She sounded slightly defensive. Then her shoulders sagged. “Will I regret it?”
“I did when I renovated the fixer-upper I bought. But then, I’m not the most patient guy.” He hadn’t meant to bring up the ranch. It still hurt to talk about it, to remember how his dream had gone up in smoke as sure as if it’d been consumed by wildfire.
“Any tips?”
“Yeah. Hire a professional.”
Melanie laughed. “On a teacher’s salary? I don’t think so.”
“As you found out, you screw it up and you end up paying anyway.”
“I did all right with the paint job and stenciling,” she said with a defiant lift of her chin.
“Or you could benefit from my mistakes and let me help you.” It was the wrong thing to say. He’d decided to stay for a week. Thinking of anything beyond that was plain foolish. He was an ex-con with a limited future. “That was dumb,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t know when you plan on ripping all this up.�
� He fingered the Formica, studying the seams just so he didn’t have to look at Melanie’s stunned expression. “Who knows where I’ll be?”
“I’ll have to get permission from my landlord.” She’d turned back to the stove and fiddled with the controls. “He wasn’t happy about letting me remove the wallpaper even though it was older than dirt.”
“So you’re renting? I don’t know why I assumed you owned the house.”
“I suppose I should think about buying.” Her tone lacked enthusiasm. “There are tax advantages.”
“Not a good reason to sign your life over to a mortgage company. You should love the place.”
She nodded thoughtfully, then looked at him. “Do you love your ranch? Was it worth pouring your heart and soul into it?”
The question shouldn’t have surprised him but it still made him tense. It was her trusting brown eyes that got to him. Cocooned here in a community that loved her, did she even know how ugly life could turn in an instant? “I did once,” he said and saw hurt flicker in her eyes. Hurt for him. “Maybe someday I will again.”
He didn’t believe that for a second. She seemed to, though—a little bit, anyway—and that was good enough. For both of them. He didn’t need her feeling sorry for him. His actions had cost him his freedom and his future. Put to the test, he’d do it all over again. It was his own ass. He wouldn’t drag anyone to hell with him.
She hadn’t turned back to the stove and her troubled expression was starting to get under his skin. It was the way she was looking at him, as if she feared saying the wrong thing would make him explode.
It took a moment for him to realize he was clenching his jaw. He could feel the dark thoughts eclipsing his mood. It happened sometimes, no matter how hard he tried not to think of the past. The people he worked with in Denver understood, and they just stayed away from him until the brief bouts passed.
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