by Inara Scott
“Because you’re leaning against the wall.”
He started, surprised to find that the wall was, indeed, pushing against his shoulder. He righted himself and headed for the stairs. Left foot. Right. Left. He pretended his feet were soldiers and he was ordering them into battle.
Onward, brave soldiers!
“What’s so funny?” Melissa asked.
He chuckled. “Ah, it’s really a private joke.”
She snorted. “I suppose it’s good to see you laughing.”
“Nan used to call me Mr. Silly Pants,” he told her gravely. “When I was younger.”
“I hope it wasn’t last year,” Melissa said. She steered him around a landing and up the next flight of stairs. “I have to admit, I can’t imagine you being silly.”
Garth pushed back his nose and crossed his eyes. “How’s that for silly?”
Melissa laughed. He started to do the same, but the movement cost him his balance and he had to grab the railing to keep from tumbling down the stairs. “Whoa!”
“Whoa is right. Let’s keep the jokes to a minimum until you get in bed, Mr. Silly Pants.”
Still chuckling, Garth pulled himself up the railing. “You’re cute when you laugh.”
“So are you.”
They got to the top of the stairs. He turned around and pulled her into his arms. “Cute and sexy.” He kissed her deeply. She responded to him for a moment, then pushed at his chest, breaking the contact between them.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she said.
He studied her. She had a small halo around her head, perhaps because of the light behind her, or perhaps because he was squinting hard to keep her from turning into three identical twins.
“What’s not a bad idea? Sleeping with me?” he cocked his head, confused. “Haven’t you already done that?”
A smile brushed across her face. “Yes, I have. More than once.”
He pulled her more tightly into his arms. “Well, then, it’s a bit late for second-guessing, isn’t it?”
She laughed, and he felt something tug inside his chest. Why couldn’t he make her laugh more often? Why did this have to feel so strange and comfortable, all at once?
“You were the one who left me,” she said, poking a finger at his chest.
He knit his brows together, trying to imagine what would have caused him to do such a ridiculous thing. He had a vague memory of her brothers, Ross and…somebody or other, glaring at him. And her father and mother, disappointed.
The memory hurt his head, so he pushed it aside. Clearly, it was time to change the subject. “Did you know women are aliens?”
Melissa laughed. “How can you be sure?”
He paused, and then said, with an air of conspiracy, “I figured it out in college.”
“I see. Was there any particular woman who led you to this conclusion?”
That was easy. “Samantha. She was definitely an alien.”
“Who was Samantha?”
This question seemed odd. Didn’t everyone know Samantha? “My girlfriend. Or I thought she was my girlfriend, but she said I was crazy. I told her I loved her and she laughed. But she kept the necklace. She said the diamond was pretty.”
The conversation was making his stomach ache. He didn’t want to think about Samantha, or women, or diamonds. In fact, he’d started drinking precisely because he didn’t want to think about any of these things. “I think,” he declared, “that we should stop talking about this, and get in bed.”
“Subtle.” Melissa gazed up at him, but she wasn’t smiling any longer. This bothered him, so he kissed her, and the sweet taste of her lips eased whatever discomfort he had started to feel. He did it again, running his hands down her body, relishing the feeling of her. He took one of her hands and laced his fingers through hers, bumping against a thick ring band as he did.
She belongs to me.
The voice in his head startled him, and he tried to ignore it and focus on more kissing. More touching. But each time he moved he brushed against that ring, which started a chorus of voices, repeating themselves over and over:
Mine mine mine…
She had a ring on her finger that he’d put there. This seemed to clarify any confusion that might arise. Melissa was his now, and no one could take her away.
“Bed,” he whispered.
“Yes.” She smiled again, but this time it looked sad. Which was all wrong. But he would make it right.
If he could only get his balance.
…
Melissa watched as Garth’s mouth fell open and he began to snore. She had wrestled him into his bed—no small accomplishment in and of itself—just in time for him to pass out. Now, as the sound of his breathing filled the room, he sprawled on top of the comforter in a position of utter relaxation.
She thought about the pain that must have sent him into that bottle tonight and his discomfort at her parents’ house. Then she imagined cruel Samantha, taking his innocent gift and laughing at his naïveté.
And her heart broke right down the middle.
“I guess you showed her,” she murmured, gently arranging his hands at his sides and centering the pillow under his head. An incredible home, successful business, his pick of beautiful women to share his bed.
But did it matter, when the damage had already been done?
She thought about the way Garth had tensed when Howard and Yolanda Fendle had approached them at Seesaw. And she vowed that if she ever saw Howard again, she would punch him right in the middle of his smug, self-satisfied face.
When Jess had called earlier that evening, she wasn’t entirely sure what to do. She knew Garth hadn’t wanted her around tonight—meeting her parents had triggered something dark in him, and he obviously wanted to be alone. But when Jess said he was drinking, and seemed upset, how could she stay away? At least for a little while longer, he was her fiancé. And she wasn’t going to let him suffer alone.
Now, feeling like the worst sort of interloper, she stole back downstairs. She grabbed her small bag of clothes and toiletries, which she’d left in the front hall when she first arrived. By the time she returned to Garth’s bed, having put on her pajamas and brushed her teeth, he had rolled over onto his side. She debated wrestling him out of his clothes. He still wore a leather belt, and the silver buckle looked like it was cutting into his stomach.
“Great. Now I’m going to feel guilty if I don’t get this thing off you.” She bit her lip, trying to imagine how she could remove it without waking him. Realizing he was probably deeply asleep, she carefully unbuckled the heavy metal and began pulling the other end through the loops on his pants. When the belt stuck underneath his body, she sighed and pushed against him. Finally, she worked the leather loose and threw it on the floor.
She leaned over to kiss him one last time before going to the spare bedroom down the hall. Unexpectedly, his hand shot out and caught her waist, dragging her down on top of him.
“Don’t leave.”
He had not even opened his eyes, and within seconds, his breathing had returned to a soft snore. Melissa lay still, captured under his arm. She thought about fighting him, and wrestling loose from his grasp, but only for a moment. Then she sighed and reached for a pillow. She tucked it under her head and snuggled into the curve of his body.
I don’t want to leave.
Not ever again.
Chapter Seventeen
Garth cracked open one eye. White light stabbed him with its intensity, and he closed his eye just as quickly. Was it morning already? A quick squint at the clock beside his bed demonstrated that it was, indeed, nine o’clock. Meanwhile, sometime during the night a drummer had taken up residence in his head and even now was assaulting him with a relentless pounding.
Cautiously, he surveyed his body. He was still wearing his dress shirt and pants from the day before. A cup of water sat on his bedside table. Two small white pills lay beside the cup. He checked the tiny letters on the white surface and realiz
ed that some kind soul had anticipated his pain and left him some aspirin. He took the pills and drank deeply from the glass, but it did little to erase the feeling that someone had shoved a wad of cotton in his mouth. He felt…hung over.
Hung over?
If he focused hard enough—which, he discovered, was an extremely painful undertaking—he could conjure a vague memory of a bottle of Glenfiddich whisky, his study, and a woman helping him to his bed.
That was it. No idea when he’d started drinking, though the why of it returned a few minutes later.
Melissa. Her parents. Two brothers. The world’s worst brunch.
He groaned. Why had he ever agreed to meet them? He should have simply put his foot down and refused. Small social engagements were always a disaster. The pressure of the unexpected hug, the enforced social laughter, and the need to conjure up some sort of playful, entertaining façade was simply too much for him.
He rolled back into the pillow. He must truly be losing his mind, because he thought he smelled a hint of her perfume. He wondered if she’d ever speak to him again.
Hopefully not.
No, scratch that. They needed to keep up the charade for another couple of days. Natalie Orelian had agreed to meet with him on Tuesday morning to discuss investment terms. As soon as the contract was signed, they could call this whole thing off.
Any way you looked at it, he needed to extricate himself from this whole painful situation. As soon as possible.
…
“Are you sure you aren’t getting cold, Nan?” Melissa asked. She picked up the small rubber ball Han Solo had deposited at her feet and tossed it into the yard. The tiny dog raced after it. Chewbacca raised his head for just a moment before settling back into Nan’s lap with a sigh. Luke sniffed around in the grass a few feet away.
“That nurse put so many blankets on me you’d think I was getting ready to go climb Mt. Everest.” Nan wore a thick fleece bathrobe, and had two blankets draped across her lap. Her face looked pale and drawn, and she still coughed more than Melissa would have liked, but a twinkle in her eye and relaxed breathing seemed to signal improving health. “Besides, Chewy is keeping me warm.”
Melissa smiled. “No one wants to see you catch a chill.”
Nan coughed into the back of her hand. Melissa was relieved that the sound didn’t reverberate through her body the way it had when they’d first met.
Han deposited the ball back at her feet and sat down expectantly, his tongue lolling out of his mouth at a jaunty angle.
“How old are your dogs?” Melissa asked. “They seem like puppies.”
“Four years old,” Nan replied. “And really, they’re not mine. They belong to Garth.”
Melissa cocked her head. “That’s not what I heard. He said you rescued them.”
Nan laughed. “I rescued them,” she said, dabbing a handkerchief across her mouth. “Garth kept them.”
“What do you mean?”
“The puppies were in bad shape when I got involved, but we had any number of offers to give them new homes. Garth turned them all down. Once he gets attached to something, it’s hard for him to let go.”
“Like with me?” Jessalyn set down a tray that held a bowl of oatmeal, silver coffee pot, and variety of fruits on a table beside Nan’s wheelchair. She poured a cup of coffee for Nan, and one for Melissa.
Nan tsked. “Don’t underestimate yourself, Jessalyn.”
“When Nan brought me here,” Jess said to Melissa, “I was a horrible cook and a worse housekeeper. Garth kept me around because I needed help, not because I was good at my job. Now, at least, I make a damned fine cup of coffee. But I still burn his casseroles every now and then. Speaking of which, unless you need anything else, I should go see to dinner.”
Melissa shook her head. “I’m all set. Thank you, Jess.”
“Yes, thank you,” Nan said. “I promise to eat all my oatmeal.”
Jess gave her a mock glare. “You see that you do, young lady. I’ll be back to get your tray in a bit.”
Nan waited until Jess had disappeared back into the house before she continued. “Garth doesn’t open up easily, but when he does, he cares fiercely.” She smiled at Melissa. “But that’s not news to you, is it?”
Melissa shook her head, trying to mask the sudden rush of jealousy she felt for three little white dogs and pink-haired housekeeper. “I guess I’m a lucky girl.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Nan said. “I wasn’t sure if he’d ever find someone to unlock that heart of his, but now that I’ve met you, Melissa, I’m not the least bit surprised he finally did.” She reached over and patted Melissa’s hand. “You know what a hard time he has opening up to people. Finding a woman he could trust is a blessing I wasn’t sure I’d ever see in my lifetime.”
“We still have our differences,” Melissa said, a shiver of guilt racing through her at Nan’s happy tone.
“Of course,” Nan said. “He’s a proud man, and he doesn’t like to admit when he’s wrong. You’ll learn to work through those things. It just takes time.”
Melissa sighed and leaned back in her chair. “How long were you married, Nan?”
“Sixty years.”
“What was your husband like?” Melissa asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Oh no!” Nan smiled. “Arthur was a lot like Garth. He worked too hard, and was a bit of a loner. He relied on me to set up all our social engagements. He always said that after he died, he’d wait outside the Gates of Heaven for me, so I could introduce him around.”
Melissa grinned. She could see Garth making a joke like that someday. If he ever did get married. “Garth said you spent a lot of time at Seesaw, because you had more of a community there.”
Nan stroked Chewy’s head. “I did, and I loved my friends in Essex. But the real reason we stayed there was that I didn’t think the city was a good place for a child to spend the summer. Whenever school was out I took his mother, and later Garth, to Seesaw. I wanted them outside, playing and swimming. Arthur wanted to be with us, but his job was very demanding. He always came out for the weekends, though, or sometimes even just for the night.”
“Were you happy?” Melissa asked. “It sounds like that could have been very lonely.”
“I was very lucky to be able to spend that time with my family. It was only hard after Garth’s parents died.” Her smile fell away. “I tried to arrange for him to have lots of camps and activities while we were there, but after the accident…well, it was a difficult time for both of us.”
“I’m sure it took a while to adjust to the loss.” Melissa pictured Howard Fendle teasing Garth at his most vulnerable moment in life, and her hands tightened into fists.
“It did. To be honest, I don’t know that Garth ever really recovered. He had always been a serious boy, but after the accident, things got so much worse. And nothing that woman suggested even came close to helping him with his…”
“Melissa? What are you doing here?”
She spun around guiltily, wishing desperately for Nan to finish her sentence, but then her heart lurched at the sight of Garth, framed by the patio doors. He wore reflective sunglasses that covered half his face, and his mouth was set in a thin, impatient line.
“Garth, that’s no way to speak to your fiancée!” Nan chided.
If anything, the line of his mouth grew even narrower. “I have a headache. Forgive me. I thought I dropped Melissa off at home yesterday. I’m surprised to see her here.”
He stalked over to them, radiating annoyance. Even Han seemed intimidated by Garth’s dour mood. The small dog approached his master slowly and immediately flopped onto his back in submission.
“I, ah…” Melissa fumbled for an excuse for her presence. She hadn’t considered the possibility that Garth would completely forget her arrival last night.
“I called her,” Nan supplied, coughing gently behind her hand. “I needed a little company.”
Melissa flashed her a surprise
d look. Did Nan know what had happened the night before? Jess could very well have filled her in this morning, though Melissa wondered if she would have revealed the extent of Garth’s inebriation.
“Is that right?” Garth raised an eyebrow over the rim of his glasses. “You just arrived this morning, dear? How exactly did you manage that?” He leaned over and pressed a kiss on her cheek. The icy touch made her shiver.
“Don’t be such a grump,” Nan said, brushing past his question. “I sent a car to pick her up.” She fixed him with a piercing stare. For once, Melissa could see how the two were related. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Of course not,” he said after a pause. “It’s just a busy week. I’m surprised Melissa wanted to spend all that time in the car for a short visit. Or was she planning to take the day off from work and stay all day?”
Nan’s chin jutted out. “We’ve had a lovely visit already. I assumed you would take her with you into town.”
“Fine.” Garth’s words fell like individual icicles. “I’ll be leaving for the office in a few minutes. Melissa, are you ready to go?”
She nodded. Starting the morning driving to work with a pissed-off Garth wasn’t high on her to-do list. Then again, she’d lost control of that list long ago.
…
As soon as they pulled away from the house, Melissa braced for Garth to interrogate her about when exactly she’d arrived and why she had agreed to stay, but he didn’t. She wanted to rip the glasses from his eyes and demand that he talk to her, but by now she knew better than to try to budge him when he had made up his mind about something. So they rode in silence, and Melissa felt tears building up behind her eyes.
With every mile that passed, sitting beside him and feeling his presence became more and more painful. Because the moment she got into the car and looked at the unrelenting line of his jaw, and then at the shimmering aquamarine ring on her finger, she realized she’d done something stupid.
Something dumber than believing her noxious ex-boyfriend when he said he needed to pay an “emergency” visit to his computer lab at eight o’clock on a Friday night.
Something far more dangerous than making up a story about being involved with her notoriously reclusive boss.