More Than One Night

by Nicole Leiren

  Her innocent look shot arousal through his veins, settling just below his belt. Thirty seconds and already he needed a cold shower. Or a hot time in bed with Miss USA here.

  "Do you always make random comments, or do I just bring out the best in you?"

  "You definitely bring out the best in me, sweetheart. I was just commenting about how patriotic you look in your red, white, and blue."

  "Oh…" her blush matched her jacket.

  Wanting to save her from herself, he gulped a few more swigs of his beer before tossing it in the trash can. "Let's dance, eighties girl."

  Grabbing her hand, he pulled her away from the wall. His brows creased. She'd looked comfortable essentially fading into the woodwork. His eyes swept over her body. Why wouldn't she be the center of attention no matter what the occasion? Beautiful and smart with a hint of sweetness—a dangerous combination for his heart. Not wanting to delay his body in close proximity with hers one moment longer, he pulled her into the fray of the mosh pit, hoping modesty prompted her to lie about having two left feet. The moment her body started moving in time to the music, he forgot all about her feet as her softer curves begged for attention.

  He matched his steps to hers. The crowd of people pressed against them, forcing their bodies closer. This is more like it. Muscles flexed, hips rotating—sharing all his best moves. Her moves were damn good too. Those hips…her breasts…even her legs…moving to Brian Adam's smooth beat. Each subtle sway sky-rocketed his libido to levels for which he couldn't be held responsible for very long.

  The guitars strummed while the drums grew louder, feeding off the energy of the crowd. No slow songs from this group. Time to improvise and make his move. Pulling her tighter, he closed his eyes to focus on the warm-blooded woman fate had delivered in the seat next to him. This wallflower possessed curves which, at present, were exactly where he wanted them—pressed against his chest. Lower, the softness led to muscled thighs igniting multiple fantasies about them being wrapped around his hips. Despite his self-proclaimed promise to behave, he lowered his face to the curve of her neck, inhaling softly. Sweet Jesus, not only did she rally every ounce of testosterone in his body to attention, but her sweet smell was capable of bringing any man…this man…to his knees.

  Dear God in heaven, he was in trouble.

  * * *

  "Daniel, please. Stop." Distance. Space. Time. Melodie needed all three right now as her head spun wildly out of control. His body against hers propelled the librarian in her straight to the erotic romance section of the bookshelf in her head. Not a safe place to be. Thinking became impossible, however, the moment his delectable lips touched the pulse point on her neck. Rivulets of pleasure slid through her nervous system, filling the pool of desire low in her abdomen.

  Fortunately, the gentleman part of his dual personality heard her request and stepped away without pressing the point. "I'm sorry. I got carried away. You're so damn beautiful, I can't seem to help myself."

  Between the accent and sincere expression, she wanted to believe there might be a grain of truth to his compliment. Nagging voices in the back of her head from her high school days taunted her. Why can't you be more like Evelyn? Why can't you be successful like Evelyn? Why can't you find a husband like Evelyn?

  A lifetime in her sister's shadow prevented her from believing the veracity of his words. "You never mentioned you were blind. Now, are we going to stand here and try to have a conversation or dance? This is one of my favorite songs." Somewhere deep, she'd found some courage. Maybe people did change, maybe she could.

  Bodies continued to move around them as the beginning strains of "Sweet Dreams" filled the dance floor. Her gaze held his, confusion dancing with desire in his sapphire depths. Finally, the cocky ladies' man veneer slipped over his face. "Hell yeah, we're going to dance."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Watching Melodie dance constituted equal parts heaven and hell. After a few songs, she seemed more relaxed and really having fun. He hated to admit it, but he was having fun too. Been a long time…

  As the song ended, he pulled her off the dance floor. "You wore me out, woman. I deserve a drink. Your treat." Her buying him a drink would help compensate for shutting him down every time he tried to make a move on her.

  His ego needed help to restore it to full capacity. For the first time in a long time, he'd offered sincere praise to a deserving woman, and what had she done? Ignored him and his compliment. Probably for the best anyway. Love 'em and leave 'em. His motto had been working for years. No need to change things now. She's different. No denying it.

  She squeezed his hand and nodded. "You're on, cowboy."

  They pushed their way up to the bar. Why did her sweat-slicked body smell so much better than the other people crowding around them? "A beer for me and a vodka cranberry for the lady." He held her tight, a possessive instinct. He wanted to be sure the other men knew tonight, she was with him.

  "Let's go outside." With drinks in hand, he led her to the outside patio.

  The giant kerosene heaters doubled as lamps and provided the perfect amount of lighting at night. A little privacy in a semi-crowded area.

  He downed a few swigs of beer. "Cowboy?" His jeans tightened uncomfortably as her eyes swept over his attire.

  "Blue jeans and cowboy boots—close enough for me."

  "You for damn sure aren't from the south if I'm your idea of a cowboy. First off, no hat and no down-home, honest-to-goodness cowboy would be caught dead in this shirt."

  Not enough cold water in Texas for the amount of showers he'd need to cool the fire she stoked when her manicured hand smoothed over his chest. "You're right, of course. I'll have to do additional research on proper cowboy attire. I'm glad you didn't go for a plaid button-down though. This T-shirt looks much nicer on you."

  This woman might be the death of him. "You have a thing for research, don't you?" He needed to change the topic before he hiked up her skirt and had his way with her right there on the bar.

  "Occupational hazard, I guess." Her hand continued its fiery path from his chest to his shoulder and then over his biceps. "You work out a lot?"

  Deep breath in. Deep breath out. "Occupational hazard, I guess. Need to be fit to fight the bad guys, you know."

  She smiled brightly, and his attempt at breathing stuttered worse than a nervous kid his first day of high school. "Touché." Her smile softened. "I had a wonderful time tonight. Thank you."

  Despite the beer, his mouth went dry, and his heartbeat raced. He didn't want her to leave. Didn't want this night to end. Didn't want to miss the opportunity to touch her again—to kiss her. The beginning measures of another song filtered through the outdoor speakers. Finally, the eighties gods were with him as the DJ played the slow song he'd prayed for in the beginning—the love theme from Footloose. Could it get any better? "Dance with me before you go?"

  Hesitation replaced her playfulness from a few moments ago. "I don't know."

  Game time. He stepped a little closer, close enough for the sexual tension sizzling between them all evening to touch her, but not close enough to send his wallflower back into the paneling. "Consider it your patriotic duty for a cowboy who served his country."

  His words prompted an immediate effect. Unfortunately, the opposite affect than he intended. Her face paled, and the life drained right out of those beautiful eyes. What the hell?

  "I'm sorry. I can't. I have to go."

  And with those apologetic words, his mysterious librarian left him standing alone at the patio railing. Oh yeah, the roller coaster this woman was taking him on was one helluva ride.

  * * *

  Air. She needed air. Memories of Tom surfaced along with the steep price of his patriotic duty. His service cost him his life and cost her a safe future. He might not have evoked the kind of intense reaction Daniel had since the first time their eyes met, but Tom offered her a security blanket, a plan B should she need one. He'd loved her for who she was and, most importantly, had never shown an
y interest in her big sister. Damn him for going and getting himself killed and upsetting the comfortable life they were going to create together.

  She stumbled out of the bar toward her home away from home, grateful the location Daniel chose shared property with her hotel. This had all been a mistake, a big mistake. Hurried footsteps on the pavement behind her sent her pulse skyrocketing, the blood pounding in her ears until she could hear nothing else.

  "Hey! Melodie! Stop! Please…"

  The desperation in the "please" broke through the pounding, allowing guilt to weave itself inextricably into every nerve. Exhaling slowly, she turned to face him. "I'm sorry, truly. I'm just not…I can't…I…"

  "Whoa, take it easy. Come here." He pulled her into his strong, comforting embrace.

  Emotionally, she was in no position to fight him. Besides, she was tired of always being so damned independent, isolated, and introverted. Unwanted tears threatened, and she allowed Daniel's support. A part of her hated her weakness. Evelyn was always strong, and the goal she'd been given her entire life was to be more like Evelyn.

  A few minutes later, her sense of calm found its way to the surface again. Pulling back from his embrace, she smiled. "Bet you've never had a date end like that before."

  His hand cupped her cheek, robbing her of the ability to breathe. "I've never met a woman quite like you before."

  She sniffled. "Is that a good or bad thing?"

  Daniel shook his head and grinned. "Honestly? I'm not sure. Mostly good. Well, except when you ran out on me before that last dance. Was it something I said?"

  The inability to speak followed her failure to breathe as his fingertips slipped through her hair, tucking errant strands behind her ear. He gently wiped away the remnants of the tears before the damp digits slipped across her lips.

  She closed her eyes, searching for her voice. "It's complicated."

  Soft lips on her forehead accelerated the rhythm of her heart, making its presence known. "I usually avoid complicated, but for you, I find myself willing to make an exception. How about you?"

  "I usually do safe." Tom had been safe. Her books were safe. She preferred safe.

  "And I don't feel safe to you?"

  Melodie opened her eyes to take in the force of nature standing in front of her. His presence resembled a tornado, ripping into her life and uprooting all of her preconceived and decided-upon notions of what her life was to be—of the type of man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Just when the storm seemed out of control, she moved into the eye where an eerie calm and sense of peace prevailed—like now. "Not at all. But, I find myself willing to make an exception."

  Her admission had apparently been enough for him. Adrenaline spiked from the strange mix of danger and excitement as his gorgeous face moved closer to hers. The storm infused her entire being as soft silk lips covered hers, endorphins releasing winds of pleasure. The tenderness brought peace and—need. She tried to deepen the kiss, but his hands on her cheeks held her motionless. With maddening slowness, he slid across her full lips to the corner. Phantom touches reached through the surface and delved deep into her wounded heart to deliver life-giving energy to the half-dead organ. Over and over, he kissed her without quite kissing her.

  Finally, she could take no more. "Please, Daniel…" Her voice a soft whisper in the still night.

  His hands slid down the column of her throat and over her arms, pulling her body flush with his as his tongue slid across her highly sensitized mouth. Parting her lips farther, their connection deepened.

  She angled her head to participate in the kiss. Sweet Lord in heaven. I've been missing out. So good and oh so dangerous.

  Endless swirls of desire licked at her arousal lifting her need to unbearable levels. Breathless, she broke the connection. "When will I see you again?"

  Though still in a bit of a daze from the intensity of the kiss, she couldn't help but notice the strong features on his face turn conflicted for a few moments. Age-old uncertainty set in again. Had he not enjoyed the kiss as she had? The conflict disappeared, replaced by cockiness. She almost hated to hear what would come out of those sensuous lips next.

  "Does that mean you aren't inviting me back to your room tonight?"

  So one kiss and he expected her to spend the night with him? They barely knew each other! Aggravated, she pulled away from his grasp. "I guess your normal date would be grateful for the invitation, but I'm going to pass. Thanks for the evening, Daniel. It's been illuminating." She took a few steps and then turned for one final glance. "Have a great life. I hope you find what you're looking for and it lasts more than one night."

  The centrifugal force of her emotions made it difficult to stay on course, but years of adamant independence and fighting with her mother paid off with staunch internal reserve. Tonight taught her a valuable lesson. A storm chaser she was not.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Sunday

  Dry mouth. Pounding headache. Churning stomach. Daniel couldn't remember the last time he'd had a hangover, and this was the mother of all hangovers. After that damn kiss, the need for his beautiful, sexy, reserved librarian burned hotter than the San Antonio sun in July. He'd pulled out all his best moves and let the gentleman inside of him come out to play last night. What had been his reward for being compassionate, caring, and tender? A total eclipse of the sun followed by an arctic gale from the most infuriating woman he'd ever met. Why the hell did he even care? God knows she wasn't the first woman to turn him down, though, admittedly, there hadn't been many, especially not after a soul-searing kiss like the one they shared.

  Love 'em and leave 'em. That was his motto, his standard operating procedure, his SOP. It aggravated him beyond measure his SOP wasn't working, wasn't what he wanted, this time. Damn that woman.

  He'd drowned the fires of his passion with cheap beer and the occasional shot of Jägermeister. Well, maybe more than the occasional shot. To make matters worse? Though the details were fuzzy, he knew at least two separate women offered to console him in a very physical way. Did he go with them? No. Did he call Alana to share he was in town and in need of the kind of attention only she could give? No. Did he consume alcohol until the sole remaining rational thought prompted him to call a taxi to take him back to his hotel? Hell yes!

  Now he was paying the price with the Army Drum and Bugle Corps conducting drills in the space between his throbbing temples. Damn that woman!

  Coffee, aspirin, and a hot shower eased the pounding somewhat, allowing him to devise a strategy. Just walk away. Definitely the course of action he should take. Get off the roller coaster ride this innocent, emerald-eyed vixen strapped him into from the first moment her body touched his. Yes, that was what he should do.

  He topped off his coffee and stared out the hotel window. The bleak parking lot view held little appeal and currently mirrored his life. Empty. Flat. Hard. Except when he was with Melodie. Her desperate kiss cut through the bullshit and hinted at the promise of the woman he could take home to his parents. Someone he could hold at night.

  He sighed. He knew what he should do. He also knew, without a doubt, what he was going to do. Damn that woman.

  * * *

  Insufferable. The best word to describe the man who'd been a constant source of annoyance since the moment they met—less than twenty-four hours ago. Melodie tossed and turned all night, reliving his kiss. Pleasure. Annoyance. Guilt. Tom's kisses had been nice, a soft rain filling her body with slow-rising pleasure. Daniel's kisses were more like a tsunami of sensation drowning her in sensory overload. The two didn't compare. Of course, Tom never treated her as a single-use container to be thrown away after just one night.

  Tom.

  As his name whispered across her lips, she knew the look he'd be giving her right now if he were here. He'd been so good at pushing, yet accepting. Even when she'd proposed the marriage pact, he'd chuckled and agreed, all the while assuring her she'd find Mr. Right long before the deadline.

  A wave of sad
ness washed over her already tired body. Not only had Tom been wrong, but her best friend had left her to deal with her life and her family all on her own. Damn him and the war that killed him.

  Her phone buzzed. A quick glance at the caller ID sent her headache up another notch. "Hey, Ev."

  "How you doing, kiddo?"

  Melodie bristled at the childhood nickname her sister still insisted on calling her. "As well as can be expected. Just trying to get away from it all for a bit."

  "I'm worried about you. You can't run away from your problems."

  Says the woman who has no problems. "Well, thanks for the concern, big sis, but actually, I can." After the emotional evening with Daniel and the hurt still present from losing Tom, she'd endured all the well-meaning platitudes and advice she could take.

  "Look, come home. There's an associate in my firm who's perfect for you."

  Melodie closed her eyes. Just what she needed. A blind date. Ugh! Why couldn't everyone leave her alone? Exhaling slowly, she tried one last stab at diplomacy before the conversation moved to the slippery slope of family angst and drama. "I appreciate the gesture, but I'm still grieving Tom. I'm not ready for a blind date."

  This time her sister's exasperated sigh filled the connection. "I know you two were close and devised this crazy agreement to marry when you turned thirty if no better options presented themselves, but the simple fact you even considered such an agreement demonstrates your need for help in this area. Honestly, Mel. Tom was a nice guy, but you only considered a future with him because he was away most of the time. He was safe. You didn't love him…not like a woman should love her future husband. It's time to move out of your fantasy world, and get on with your life. You need to come home."

  Enough! Her family treated her like she was a child who couldn't make a decision for herself if her life, or her future, depended on it. "Last time I checked, I was over twenty-one—way over twenty-one. I can do anything I damn well please and choose to be with whomever I want, whether you approve or not."