by Diana Palmer
It wasn’t a terribly ritzy place to eat. The food was very good and moderately priced, but Melody didn’t have to worry if her clothes were good enough to wear to it. The thought made her smile.
Emmett cocked an eyebrow. “Private thoughts?”
“I was just glad that I’m properly dressed for this place, without being underdressed,” she confessed on a laugh. “I don’t have the wardrobe for those French restaurants where they don’t even bother to put the prices on the menus.”
He chuckled. “I’ve eaten in a couple of those,” he replied. “I never felt very comfortable in them, though. My idea of a good lunch is a McDonald’s hamburger.”
“Good old Scottish cooking,” she mused, tongue-in-cheek.
He laughed with her as he sampled his rare steak. “You’re remarkably good-humored.”
“Oh, I like laughter,” she told him. “Life is too short to go around with a long face complaining about everything.”
He studied her over a bite of nicely browned steak. “You manage to work for my cousin without complaints?”
“Well…not many,” she said. “And he’s my cousin, too, you know.”
His eyes grew somber and they fell to his plate. “So he is.”
“You look so remote.” She hesitated. “Oh, I see. You were thinking that Adell was related to him by marriage, and she’s still related to him because she’s married to Randy—” She broke off, flushing.
He put down his fork. His appetite had gone. He’d thought he was getting over Adell’s defection, but apparently the wounds were still open.
“I’m sorry,” she said with a grimace. “I’ve ruined it all by bringing them up, haven’t I?” She laid down her own fork. “It won’t work, Emmett,” she said suddenly, without stopping to choose her words. “There are too many scars for us to be able to get along. You’re never going to be able to forget about Randy and Adell.” That was true—and he didn’t even know what she did, either, about Adell being pregnant. She felt guilty.
He lifted his eyes to her face. It made him angry that she’d assumed that he was romantically interested in her. It made him more angry that he’d actually been thinking along those lines until she’d dragged Randy and Adell into the conversation.
He lashed out in frustration. “Aren’t you taking too much for granted? My God, this was only a dinner invitation, not a proposal of marriage!” he said angrily. His eyes calmed. “Or is that what you thought I might be considering by asking you out?” He smiled at her embarrassment without humor. “Do I really seem the sort of man who can’t wait to get married a second time?”
She had to force down the hopes she’d been nursing since his invitation to this meal. He obviously had cold feet about any relationship between them, and he was hiding it in sarcasm. She knew that as surely as if he’d told her so.
“Of course not,” she lied. “That isn’t what I was thinking at all. I only meant that taking me out isn’t a good idea.”
“For once, we agree on something.” He lifted his coffee cup to his firm lips, averting his gaze. He must have been out of his mind to have come up to Houston in the first place. Asking Melody out had been another temporary mental aberration. He had enough trouble already without rushing out to search for more.
“Are you finished?” he asked when he’d drained his cup.
She was glad she hadn’t wanted dessert. He seemed to be in a flaming rush to leave. She was eager to oblige him. The evening had been an unmitigated disaster!
He drove her back to her apartment in a furious silence, without even tuning in a song on the radio to break the tension. Melody didn’t feel any more inclined toward conversation than he seemed to.
She rode up in the elevator beside him without looking to the side. He paused at her door, sighing angrily.
“Thank you for an interesting evening,” she said tightly.
“It was gratitude for keeping the kids,” he said, his words as clipped as her own. “That’s all. It was a belated thank-you for kindnesses rendered.”
“And accepted in the same vein,” she said. “No complications wanted.”
“That’s right, and you remember it,” he said through his teeth. “You’re the last damned complication I need right now!”
“Did I offer to be one?” she asked, aghast.
“Whether you did or not is beside the point! I’ve got kids who can’t get along with anyone because they don’t get any love at home. Their father doesn’t give a damn about them and their mother ran away with your damned brother!”
The anger she’d felt was suddenly gone as she saw through the furious words to the hurt beneath it. He was wounded. She wondered if he knew how obvious it was, and decided that he didn’t. Her dark eyes lost their glare and became gentle. She reached out with unexpected bravery and took one of his big, lean hands in hers.
“Come inside and have some coffee, Emmett,” she said gently. “You can tell me all about it.”
He must be daft. He kept telling himself he was as he let her lead him like a lamb into the softly lit kitchen.
He perched himself on her tallest stool and watched broodingly while she filled the coffeemaker and turned it on.
She sat down at the counter next to him, her mantilla and purse deposited on the kitchen table until she had time to move them.
“What’s wrong with the children?” she asked.
He sighed heavily. “Polk won’t try to do his math. Guy can’t get along with his teacher. Amy can’t get along with anybody, and her teacher sends me this damned note that says she doesn’t get enough attention at home.”
“And you’re doing the best you can, only nobody knows it but you, and those words hurt.”
He lifted narrowed, wounded eyes to hers. “Yes, it hurts,” he said flatly. “I’ve done my best to provide for them. All I’ve had since Adell walked out is a housekeeper. Now, I’m trying to put things right, but I can’t do it overnight!”
She smoothed her fingers gently over the backs of his strong, lean hands. “Why don’t you write Amy’s teacher a note and tell her that,” she suggested. “Teachers don’t read minds, you know. They have to be told about problems. They’re people, too, just like you and me. They can make allowances, when they know the situation.”
He relaxed. His tall, broad-shouldered form seemed to slump. “I’m tired,” he said. “It’s a shock. New surroundings, new people, a new job with more responsibilities than I’ve had in years and the kids on top of it. I guess I got snarled up in it all.”
“It’s perfectly understandable. Don’t the kids like it better, having you home?”
“I don’t know. Guy’s still standoffish. I’ve tried to get him interested in things around the ranch, but he’s shying away from me. He’s not adjusting very well to school, because the teacher wants him to mind and he won’t. He can’t seem to conform, and his temper is his worst enemy. Amy and Polk aren’t much better, but at least I can handle them when they’re not driving school officials batty.”
“Better them than you?” she teased.
He chuckled reluctantly. “Not really. I’ll have to bone up on fractions and spend some time with Polk. Maybe I just haven’t found the right tack with Guy yet. He likes ranching, but we don’t have much in common outside it.”
“Emmett, hasn’t it occurred to you that these problems could be nothing more than pleas for attention?” she asked. “Randy and I used to get into all sorts of trouble when Dad got too wrapped up in Mother’s illness to notice us. It’s a child’s nature to want to be loved, to have proof of that love.”
“Not only a child’s, Melody,” he said unexpectedly. His eyes searched hers from much too close. “Even adults can go off the deep end when no one gives a damn about them.”
“You know the kids love you.”
“I know.” His chest rose and fell heavily and his eyes grew intimate, holding hers for much longer than necessary, making her own pulse race.
“The, uh, the coffee�
�s ready, I think,” she said. Her voice sounded husky, even shaky. She dragged her eyes away from his and went to get the coffee.
She took down cups and saucers from the cabinet, and while she got the coffee service together, Emmett moved around the living room, restless and unsettled. His eyes searched out the books in her bookcase, the framed prints on the wall. He seemed to be noticing everything, taking inventory of her likes and dislikes.
He was thumbing through a volume of poetry when she put the coffee things on the dining-room table.
He put the book down and joined her at the table. She put cream and sugar into hers. He left his own black.
“I’ve got some cookies around here somewhere,” she offered.
“No need. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth,” he said. He stared into his coffee. “How did you know?” “Know what?”
He looked up with a rueful smile. “That I needed to talk about the kids.”
“You picked a fight for no reason,” she murmured dryly. “I used to have a friend in school who did the same thing. She never said what was bothering her. She picked fights until I made her tell me.” She fingered the rim of her coffee cup. “Or maybe you didn’t exactly pick a fight for no reason,” she added sadly. “You aren’t over Randy and Adell, really.”
He moved restlessly in the chair. “It’s going to take time.”
Her eyes lifted to his. He didn’t know that Adell was pregnant. How was she going to tell him? How could she tell him?
He saw that curious expression and scowled. “There’s something,” he said slowly. “Something you’re holding back. What is it?”
She averted her gaze to the coffee cup. “Nothing.”
“Now you sound like one of the kids.” He moved her coffee cup out of her reach and caught her hand in his over the small table. “Out with it. You made me talk when I didn’t want to. It’s your turn.”
“Emmett…”
He nodded reassuringly. “Come on.”
She winced. Her big, dark eyes were full of sadness, sorrow. “Adell…is pregnant.”
He didn’t react at all for a minute. He let go of her hand and sat back in his chair. He let out a long, rough breath. “Well.”
“You’d have found out sooner or later. I didn’t want to have to be the one to tell you.”
He looked at her. “You didn’t? Why?” he asked, letting the shock of what he’d learned pass over him for the moment.
“You resent me enough already because of my brother,” she said miserably.
His eyes searched her wan, sad face. “Do I?” he wondered aloud. It didn’t feel like hatred. No, not at all.
He drained his coffee cup, and she took it, and hers, into the kitchen. She felt terrible. Working helped sometimes, so she busied herself loading the dishwasher. There wasn’t much, but she’d saved last night’s pots and pans to make a load. Behind her, she felt Emmett’s eyes and could only imagine the torment he must be feeling. She wanted to console him, but she didn’t know how.
After a minute, Emmett got up and poised himself against the kitchen counter to watch her work. He didn’t want to think about Adell being pregnant by her new husband. He wasn’t going to let himself do that now. Later would be time enough.
Melody was graceful for such a tall woman, he thought reluctantly, watching her hands as she put the dishes into the dishwasher.
She noticed the look she was getting. It made her tingle. He’d long since taken off his dinner jacket and tie and Stetson. His long-sleeved, pristine white shirt was partially unbuttoned and the sleeves were rolled up. He looked elegant and rakish, and Melody was surprised that he seemed to find her so interesting. He’d been married, and she knew very well that women still chased him. He had more experience than any man she’d ever dated. It made her nervous to remember how vulnerable she was with him, how easily he could overrule her and take anything he wanted. She hoped her unease didn’t show too much.
“You’re efficient,” he remarked.
She smiled. “Oh, I’m very domestic. I had to learn early. My mother was an invalid for years before she and Dad died. Randy and I would have starved if I hadn’t been able to cook.”
His face closed up at the mention of his ex-wife’s new husband.
Melody put detergent into the dishwasher and started it running. Her eyes flicked to Emmett and away. “Yes, I know, you hate my brother as much as you hate me.”
His green eyes were completely without hostility for once as he studied her. The black dress she was wearing suited her fair complexion. Its fit emphasized her full breasts and hips and small waist, and the milky-white softness of her shoulders with their scattering of freckles. He liked what he saw when he looked at her, even if it was against his better judgment.
“I don’t hate you,” he said quietly.
“Pull the other one, Emmett.”
She’d turned and was starting out the door when he moved with surprising speed and blocked her way. “I like the way you say my name. Say it again.”
His arm was across the doorway, almost touching the tips of her breasts. She tensed at the sensual threat of it. “This isn’t wise,” she said seriously, meeting his green eyes levelly.
One eye narrowed. His gaze on her face was intent, curious. “Isn’t it? Maybe not. We’re years apart—almost a generation. Funny, I always thought you were older. I don’t know why. You seem very mature for a woman just barely out of her teens.”
“I had to grow up fast. May I get by, please?”
He could see her breathing quicken. “Why are you afraid of me?”
Her eyes darted up and down again. Her cheeks colored. “Am I?”
He reached out and caught her by the waist. He tugged, pulling her slowly to him, so that her mouth was poised just under his.
“Maybe intimidated is a better choice of words,” he murmured. His hands slid up her rib cage with slow sensuality, making her flinch at the sudden pleasure of their touch. “I know a hell of a lot more than you do about this, don’t I, little one?” His breath was warm on her parted lips. “Is that what’s wrong?”
“Yes,” she whispered breathlessly.
He looked at her mouth instead of her eyes. It trembled, pink and soft like some pastel flower, waiting to be touched. She was so young, he thought. She really was off-limits to a man his age.
But even as he thought it, his lips moved the scant inches necessary to bring them right down over her whispered gasp, and took possession of that petal-pink mouth.
She grasped his shirtfront and stiffened in surprise.
“Shh,” he whispered against her lips while he worked with sensuous mastery at parting them. “You’re safe. You’re perfectly safe. There won’t be anything to regret. Relax for me.”
She’d been kissed. She’d been kissed plenty of times, and even by him! There was certainly no reason why Emmett’s mouth should be so different from any other man’s.
But, it was. Her whole body felt as if it contracted while Emmett’s warm, strong arms enveloped her and his tongue slowly, tenderly impaled her mouth as it had once before. She stiffened again as the throbbing pleasure began to make her feel unwanted, unwelcome sensations. She fought them.
He felt the resistance, as slight as it was, and lifted his dark head.
“You’re still holding back from me,” he said, his voice tender if a little unsteady. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“It makes me feel funny,” she replied dizzily.
His nose brushed lazily against hers. “Where?”
“In my stomach…”
“Good,” he whispered. His lips eased back down and brushed hers apart, teasing them to make her mouth follow his in a sensual daze. His hands slid to her hips and contracted in a strangely arousing rhythm, pulling and pushing, brushing her legs against his.
She shivered. He felt that and lifted his head to search her wide, curious eyes.
“You’re so young,” he said quietly. He took a slow, steadying breath. “An
d so responsive that I’m likely to take advantage of it.”
Desire had her in its grip. She wasn’t afraid. She was hungry. “How?” she asked in a breathless whisper, and her eyes clung to his hard mouth as she spoke. “What will you do to me?”
His fingers eased up her rib cage and came to rest against the soft swell of her breasts. He nibbled at her mouth. One lean hand slowly cupped her and began to caress her with tender mastery. She started to stiffen until the dark delight of it made her go boneless in his embrace. She could have resisted his desire, but not her own. He was years beyond her in experience, and she reacted with helpless curiosity and need.
He nibbled tenderly at her lower lip. “I know. It’s forbidden territory, isn’t it?” he whispered into her parting lips. “Nice girls don’t let men do this. Except that they do, Melody,” he breathed as he drew her even closer. “This is part and parcel of being human.” His thumb drew suddenly, tenderly, across her taut nipple, a fiery touch that caused her whole body to clench. Her nails bit into him and she gasped. “If I hurt you, I want to know it,” he whispered. “Because it’s only meant to arouse, not to bruise.”
She shivered, but she didn’t back away. She felt as if she had pulses where she’d never suspected, throbbing and hot. “It didn’t hurt, Emmett,” she admitted huskily, although she was too shy to look at him. She closed her eyes and hid them against his shirtfront. “Do it again.”
He hadn’t expected this kind of honesty, or as much cooperation. It ate at his control. His hand swallowed her, making magic on her body. She gave in without a sound, and he felt ten feet taller. He paused just long enough to unfasten his shirt halfway down his chest and drag her hand inside it, against the damp tangle of hair over the warm, hard muscles.
The feel of his body like that made her pulse throb. “You’re hairy,” she whispered.
“I’m like this all over,” he whispered roughly. His hand moved down to her hips. The other one joined it. He pulled her into the blatant arousal of his body and held her there firmly but gently. “It’s all right. Be still,” he said when she tried unsuccessfully to pull away. He searched her face, finding shy curiosity there. “Have you never felt a man’s body in full arousal before?”