“All he knows is he’s warm and secure and loved,” Dominic said.
Melissa looked at him again with a wistful, haunted expression. “That’s what we all want, isn’t it?”
“I guess so,” Dominic replied, discomfited by the soft vulnerability she radiated.
She stroked Jamison’s fuzzy blond hair. “This little guy will need a godfather. Are you sure you won’t change your mind about it?”
“Melissa, I’m just a temporary man in your life...in Jamison’s life. It wouldn’t be fair to him for me to be his godfather.” Dominic knew his words were rather harsh, but he felt he needed a shot of harsh reality to douse the fire she stirred in him:
“I suppose you’re right.” Her gaze didn’t quite meet his, and he knew she was disappointed by his answer.
He realized he needed to get some distance from her. Something about her sitting there holding her baby, talking about the desire to be loved, touched him on a visceral level. “You’ve got some sacks of seed out in the garage. Is that what you use to fill the bird feeders out back?”
“Yes...why?”
“I noticed this morning the feeders were empty. I think I’ll go fill them.” He walked to the door that led to the garage. “I’ll lock you in as I go out,” he said.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped out into the garage and closed the door behind him. He picked up one of the ten-pound sacks of seed and punched the code that would open the garage door, closed it, then reset the security system.
He walked outside, drawing in a deep breath of the warm spring air. He had to get a handle on his feelings where Melissa was concerned. From the moment she’d stepped out of Tyler and Samantha’s car, Dominic had felt off-balance and out of control.
Walking around the side of the house toward the backyard, he tried to figure out exactly why he’d lost his equilibrium where she was concerned.
Maybe it had to do with the fact that he’d spent nearly twenty-four hours caring for her son. Maybe in holding, feeding, and cuddling Jamie he’d somehow cultivated a strange affinity with Jamie’s mother.
Or perhaps his heightened awareness of her came from the fact that he’d slept in her bed in the nursery last night. The sheets had smelled of her and he’d imagined the heat of her body lingering amid the bedding.
Godfather. There was a part of him that had longed to tell her yes, to bind himself to the child he’d helped birth. But there was another, stronger part that didn’t want to be tied, a part that knew that in tying himself to the child, he bound himself to the mother.
He frowned, irritated with himself and his wayward, dangerous thoughts. He focused on the bird feeders, removing the lids and filling them with the seed.
“I decided to join you.”
He jumped, startled by her voice, and spilled the seed on the ground. He looked up to see her standing nearby. She’d changed from her robe to a sleeveless floral shift that skimmed her breasts, then fell gracefully to the ground. “Where’s the baby?”
“Asleep.”
“I hope you brought a key, otherwise we’re locked out.”
She reached into a pocket and pulled out a key ring. “Taken care of.” She smiled and sank onto the concrete bench. “It’s a beautiful day. Summer is right around the corner. I just hope I’m here to enjoy it,” she added softly.
“You will be.” Dominic’s voice was gruff as he focused on filling the last of the feeders. He’d come out here to get some distance from her and there she sat, alluring and smelling as sweet as the flowers that surrounded them.
She stretched out her legs, her bare toes curling into the lush grass. She sighed, as if finding the action sensually pleasing.
A coil of heat unfurled inside Dominic, filling the pit of his stomach and rushing throughout his body. He slapped the lid back on the feeder and hung it on the pole, then carefully folded the top of the bag.
“Sit down for a minute, Dominic,” she urged him, patting the space next to her on the bench. Her gaze was guileless, innocent. She had no awareness of what she was doing to him. With a helpless sense of resignation, he sat next to her.
“I’ve got a pair of redbirds that stay here all year long,” she said, searching the trees as if looking for them. “They’re so beautiful. The male stands guard while the female eats, and they always come and go together.”
“Do they mate for life?”
“No. If something happens to one of them, the survivor finds a new mate. It’s like fate gives them more than one chance to be happy.” She shot him a sideways glance. “Do you believe in second chances, Dominic?”
“For some people. Not for everyone,” he replied. Not for me, he silently added.
She turned and looked at him, her eyes shining with fervor. “I have to believe in second chances. I have to believe that I’ll get a chance to be happy...after all I—” She broke off and bit her bottom lip.
“After all what?” Dominic urged.
“Oh, you know...after all this, Bill’s murder and the trial and everything.” She averted her gaze from Dominic, but not before he saw the dark shadows of secrets. Again he had the feeling that she was hiding something, protecting someone. But who? And why?
“Melissa, have you told me everything you can think of about that night...the night of Bill’s murder?” He held his breath, wanting her to tell him what darkened her eyes.
“Of course I have.”
Dominic felt an odd disappointment. Why didn’t she trust him? A silence grew between them, a silence charged with tension.
“So, have you always been a bird lover?” he asked to change the subject.
She nodded. “Always.” Some of the tension seemed to leave her. “When I was ten, a friend gave me a parakeet for my birthday. I set his cage on a table right in front of my bedroom window.” She leaned her head back and stared at the trees. “I loved that bird, but it bothered me that he was in a cage instead of outside flying free.”
She smiled at Dominic. “After about a week, I decided to give him his freedom. I opened my window, opened his cage door and watched him fly outside. He perched on the limb of a nearby tree, and for the first time he chirped happily.” Her smile faded. “Of course, my father told me how stupid I’d been, that the bird would probably not live more than a couple of days. But I didn’t care. I knew he was happy being free. Nothing except criminals should be caged up, either with real bars or imaginary ones. There were days when I was growing up when I wished I could just flap my wings and fly away.”
She stood suddenly, as if sorry she’d said as much as she had. “We’d better go in. It’s cooling off as the sun goes down and you don’t even have a shirt on.” Her gaze lingered on the width of his chest, and Dominic didn’t feel the cool evening air. He felt far too warm beneath the heat of her gaze.
Together they walked around the house to the front. “Why don’t you go on inside the front door and open the garage door for me?” Dominic said.
She nodded. It took her only a moment to disappear inside the house, and a few minutes later the garage door lifted.
Dominic placed the bag of seed back where he’d gotten it, then closed the garage door and entered the house. Melissa stood in the kitchen, as if waiting for him. He tensed as she walked toward him, stopping only when she stood mere inches from him.
“The whole time I was in that jail cell last night I was scared to death that I would never get out. That I’d never get to hold Jamison again, that I’d never sit in this kitchen and watch the birds outside the window.” Tentatively she reached a hand out and placed it on his chest. “And I was afraid I’d never be held again, never again be kissed by you.”
“Melissa.” Her name released from him in a half groan. He knew he should step back, move away from her touch, but his brain wasn’t communicating with his body.
“Just hold me, Dominic. Even if it’s only for a little while.” She didn’t give him an opportunity to deny her, but instead moved into his arms and pressed herself fir
mly against his length.
A myriad of reactions swept through him. A protest rose to his lips even as his arms enfolded her close. “Melissa.” He’d meant it to be an admonishment, but her name spilled out of him sounding like a prayer. The protest he’d meant to voice got lost amid the physical sensations that ripped through him as she leaned against him, molding her body tightly to his.
She raised her head and looked at him, her eyes the midnight blue he’d imagined they would be when lit with desire. The hunger that Dominic had been fighting from the moment she’d arrived home exploded inside him. He took her lips and possessed them, forcing rational thought and any remaining protests to fall away.
His mouth demanded and devoured hers, and she took and gave it back to him, her tongue darting to deepen the kiss while her hands stroked magic on the planes of his back.
He was intensely aware of her breasts against his chest. He guessed she wore no bra, as he could feel the pebble-like hardness of her nipples through the thin cotton of her dress. Blood surged through him at the thrilling sensation.
He broke the kiss and gazed down at her. She trembled in his arms, but he knew it wasn’t fear that made her quiver. “Melissa, I won’t lie to you. I want you.” He hesitated, giving her the chance to stop this now, to break away from his embrace and call a halt before things progressed further.
“I want you, too.” She spoke softly, but her words thundered in Dominic’s head. “Oh, Dominic, I don’t want to think about yesterdays or tomorrows. I just want you to hold me, touch me. I want to get lost in you.”
Her words snapped any lingering control Dominic might have possessed. He swept her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom where he’d been staying. He stopped at the edge of the bed and released her.
Lost. Yes, that was exactly what he was. Lost to her allure. Lost to her desire and to his own. And heaven help him, he wanted to be lost. Once again he wrapped her in his arms and claimed her lips, finding the scent of her breathtaking, the taste of her addictive.
She broke the kiss long enough to step back from him. She turned around and indicated for him to unzip the zipper that ran from her neckline to the top of her buttocks. He unzipped slowly, his mouth tasting each inch of her skin as it was exposed.
He heard the quickening of her breath with each touch of his lips, and his own pulse raced in mirrored rhythm. When the zipper was finally undone, she turned back to face him, her features obscured by shadows of the advancing night.
She shrugged, allowing the shoulders of the dress to drop down. For a moment, she held the bodice against her breasts in shy modesty; then, with a smile that stoked the flames of his desire, she allowed the dress to slide down her body and pool at her feet.
Just as he’d suspected, she wore no bra. Her breasts were high and full. Dominic had never realized before how sexy simple white cotton panties could be, but on Melissa they stole his breath away.
He picked her up in his arms and gently deposited her on the bed. He took off his jeans, then joined her, reveling in the feel of her flesh against his own.
Someplace in the back of his mind, he knew they were making a mistake. But as her mouth clung to his, and his hands found the soft fullness of her breasts, he told himself it was all right. She understood the rules; they both knew he was a temporary fix. He gave himself to the pleasure of getting lost in her, and she did the same with him.
He drank of her mouth, then moved his lips to taste the sweet skin of her neck, her shoulder, and finally her breast. She moaned beneath him, tangling her hands in his hair. Again, Dominic had the impression of a woman starved for human touch, aching with the need to be kissed and caressed.
Each flick of his tongue evoked a tiny cry of delight from her. And with each small cry, Dominic wanted to give her more, fill her with pleasure.
Her skin was soft, supple, inviting stroke after stroke of his hands, kiss after kiss from his lips. She was not merely a willing recipient, but an active participant. Her fingers danced across his naked flesh, exploring, evoking flames of desire each place they touched.
It wasn’t until he slid his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and felt the tiny ridges of stretch marks that he remembered she’d given birth about three weeks ago. There was no way he could turn her pleasure into pain by attempting actual lovemaking. Her mind might be willing, but her body wasn’t ready.
Still, he intended to give her all the pleasure that was in his power. He touched the marks again and she quieted beneath him, tensed. “The doctor said they’d eventually go away,” she said in embarrassment.
Dominic lowered his head and kissed one of the red marks. “It doesn’t matter if they do or not. They’re a small price to pay for Jamie.”
She relaxed, as if his words had stilled some inner fear. Dominic gently removed her panties, then touched her intimately. She gasped and arched up to meet him, her cries of pleasure pulling Dominic deeper into a vortex of swirling desire where no further thought was possible and there was only Melissa.
Some time later, Dominic lay on his back. Melissa slept next to him, one of her arms across his chest and her breathing a soft warm breeze against his neck.
They’d pleasured each other with hands and mouths, and Dominic felt that what they’d shared had been more intimate than actual lovemaking.
He was grateful she’d fallen asleep almost immediately. He didn’t want to talk, was too confused to discuss what they’d just shared. There was no longer any doubt in his mind. He loved Melissa. And he hated himself for loving her, didn’t want to be in love with her.
Melissa needed somebody in her life and Dominic was handy. She needed somebody to cling to, and Dominic had allowed himself to be her lifeline.
He was such a fool, so easily manipulated. However, there was one difference this time. Abigail Monroe had consciously manipulated him, used him when it suited her. But Dominic truly believed that Melissa wasn’t purposely trying to manipulate him. She was frightened, alone, and reeling from the secrets exposed about her husband.
Still, what bothered Dominic more than anything were those dark shadows that sometimes filled Melissa’s eyes. The shadows of secrets.
He turned his head and gazed at her. Her blond hair created a halo around her head and her features were achingly soft with sleep.
How could he love somebody he didn’t completely trust? She was holding something back, refusing to reveal something important.
He stared back up at the ceiling, a wave of desolation sweeping through him. He needed to make certain that what they’d just shared didn’t happen again. It only complicated things. She was facing a murder charge. And he had to figure out what he intended to do with the rest of his life. He knew his job with Samantha and Tyler was a temporary arrangement—his attempt to pay back his debt to them for defending him in Abigail’s murder. Both he and Melissa were in transitional stages of their lives. They would be fools to seek love amid such chaos.
Chapter 11
“Your husband lived in Canon Creek, Kansas, before coming to Wilford,” Matt said to Melissa.
“That’s right!” she exclaimed. “I couldn’t remember the name before, but the minute you said it, I knew it was right.” A week before, she would have grabbed Dominic’s hand in excitement, but ever since the night they’d made love, he’d withdrawn from her both emotionally and physically.
It had been a trying week, filled with meetings with Richard Wallace, discussions and debates about trial strategy. As distressing as the trial preparation was, the distance Melissa felt from Dominic since their night of lovemaking was as upsetting.
“I tracked him with his social-security number,” Matt continued. “Found out he worked at a gas station two years before coming here.”
“At a gas station?” Melissa frowned. “He never mentioned anything about working at a gas station.” She looked from Matt to Dominic, then back again.
“There’s a two-year window after that where I couldn’t find any plac
e of employment, no records to indicate he was working at all during that time. There’s something else, too.” Matt frowned. “He changed his name legally six years ago.”
“What?” Melissa stared at Matt in surprise.
“His name used to be William Newsom.” Matt shrugged. “I couldn’t find a reason for the change. There are no arrests or outstanding warrants under either name.”
“When did he start using the name of Bill Newman?” Dominic asked.
“When he moved here,” Matt replied.
“What about the photography business? Have you been able to find anything there?” Dominic asked.
Matt shook his head. “Nothing. Dano’s Photography Studio might have been in business eight years ago, but it isn’t in business now, and I can’t find any reference to it anywhere.” Matt pushed away from the table and stood. “I’ve got to get to the station. I’m supposed to be in a meeting in twenty minutes.”
Both Dominic and Melissa walked the officer to the front door. “I appreciate all your work,” Dominic said.
“I’m just sorry it took so long. I had to do most of the search on the computers down at the station and that meant. sneaking time when nobody was watching.” He looked at Melissa, then back to Dominic. “I’m not sure anything I found out is useful, but I did what I could.”
“Thank you, Matt,” Melissa added. As the two men walked out on the porch, Melissa went back to the kitchen. She stood at the window, staring out into the backyard, trying to make sense of the little that Matt had been able to learn.
Bill Newman hadn’t even been his real name. The man she’d married, the man who’d bound her to him through fear and intimidation, had been a figment of fiction. A man changed his name only because he was trying to hide from something—or someone. What had Bill been hiding? Something had happened after he left Canon Creek and before he moved to Wilford that had made him construct a new identity. What was it?
She turned as Dominic came back into the room. “We have to go to Canon Creek. The answers are there. They have to be,” she said.
Reluctant Dad Page 13