Need You Now (Love in Unknown)

by Lunsford, Taylor M.

  His hand automatically found the curve of her waist, settling just below the hem of the silky camisole and onto hot, bare skin. Although she was skinnier because she forgot to eat regularly, her hips were fuller than they had been last time he’d touched her. From where he sat, the only weight on her lithe body came from the full breasts that his free hand reached up to caress. Without a bra to contain them, her nipples pebbled against the camisole, sending an almost painful bolt of arousal through him. The tight globes he'd worshipped on the eighteen-year-old girl had grown into the full blown lusciousness on the twenty-eight-year-old woman. In that moment, all he wanted to do was rip away the flimsy cloth that separated his mouth from her breasts.

  Even as he reveled in her breasts plumped against his chest, he knew he should stop. Under the wonderful taste of Mel, he caught the notes of strong red wine in her mouth. As much as he wanted to keep going, he had to stop. A sober Mel wouldn't let him do this. Not yet, anyway. She’d slap his face and tell him to back off. She definitely wouldn’t let him into her apartment at eleven o’clock at night while she wore next to nothing.

  “No.” He pulled away, his entire body throbbing with frustrated need. "We can't do this. Not tonight. Not with you like this."

  A little pout made her swollen bottom lip even more enticing. “But it’s so much fun. Remember how much fun we used to have? Come on, we can be friends with benefits again.”

  “Fun? Sure.” He rested his forehead against hers, his breath coming in heavy pants. His groin ached to an almost painful degree. "But I want more than fun from you, Mel. And when a bottle and a half of cabernet isn't messing with your head, you wouldn’t suggest going back to the arrangement we had in college. We’re adults and you’re important to me. I don’t want to just be someone you scratch an itch with.”

  Her hazel eyes darkened with an emotion much more dangerous than desire. Eyes narrowing, she shoved his chest, sending him sprawling across the arm of the couch and almost hitting his head on the end table. "You always do this."

  “Do what?” He tried to reach out, to stop her, but she'd already moved off the couch to pace the living room.

  She grabbed the side of her head, pulling at her hair in exasperation. "This. Controlling me. Making decisions that you think are best for me, but are really best for you. Never even considering that maybe I know good and well if I want to screw you tonight or not, even though I've had a little more to drink than usual."

  “What the hell are you talking about, Mel? I've never made decisions for you. I'd like to see someone who could."

  “Bullshit, Caine." She looked ready to throw something at him. The pacing quickened in tight, frantic circles, almost like a rider trying to ease a spooked horse. “When we were sleeping together, you always assumed I’d be there when you wanted to mess around. That I’d drop everything the second you showed up and deigned to take me out in public.”

  Frantically, he wracked his brain, trying to connect the dots. That headache he'd almost got rid of earlier came back in full force. He pinched his nose, trying to get control of his ping-ponging thoughts. He vaguely remembered dropping by her dorm room whenever he felt like it. She had a single room and he shared with one of his frat brothers so it was easier to be with her that way. “Anything I did back then was so I could spend as much time with you as possible. I never wanted anything but to be with you, Mel. You're the one who ended things, remember? Hell, you didn’t even have the guts to do it yourself, you let your dad do it for you.”

  “Of course I remember. Do you know why I did it?" Her body hunched in on itself, as if she was trying to block out the memories of that awful summer day.

  His mind flashed back to that day. He stood in the Carrs’ living room and listened to the man he thought of as a father tear him apart for breaking his promise to protect Mel from guys who would use her. Ethan said he was a distraction, that she needed to focus on her school work. That she deserved better than to be treated the way Joseph Maddox treated his mistresses. The words hit home, but Caine knew that wasn't the real reason Ethan was warning him away.

  “Because you were scared," he shot back. "You were actually starting to have feelings for me and your stubborn, independent genius brain couldn't make sense of it. So instead of taking a chance on me, you ran to your dad because you knew he’d shut it down. You were so scared you even transferred to a school in a different state.”

  This time she did throw something at him. The throw pillow from the chair flew at him, hitting him square in the face. At least they'd taught her not to throw like a girl. "Scared? That's rich, even from you. I did have feelings for you, Caine. I'd been so goddamned infatuated with you for years. All I wanted was to be with you."

  “That’s a load of crap and you know it. If you wanted to be with me back then, we might be married now with two kids." Caine tossed the pillow on the couch before bracing his hands on his hips. The blood that had been boiling five minutes ago was now pounding through his body in a different primal rhythm. Ten years later, and he still couldn't understand this woman and the reasons why she’d left him. “I was going to tell you that day that I was sure, Mel. But you weren't. You were scared shitless to rely on someone back then and you're even more afraid now."

  Mel collapsed into the chair with a bitter laugh. “Caine, I was eighteen. Eighteen! You were the first guy I slept with. My childhood crush. Dad was right to split us up. We were on different paths. Do you know what your friends' girlfriends spent every night for the last three months of your senior year talking about?"

  “How the hell should I know that?" He sat down on the sofa. He'd only paid enough attention to his friends' girlfriends to know that he was damn lucky to have Mel. They were all idiots who cared more about reading couture labels than books. That point had been abundantly clear after the trip he went on with all of them before he came back to Unknown that summer.

  “Any time we went out with them, you know what I had to hear?" She barely paused for breath. She closed her eyes, as if fighting back the emotions he could practically see spewing out of her. "While you and your buddies talked about cars or 401k plans or whatever you rich men of the world talk about, I had to listen to those girls plan their lives as trophy wives. Trophy wives! They thought I was a cute little girl that you would get sick of and dump for a richer model once the novelty wore off.”

  He stared at her, not sure what to say. If she'd stabbed him with one of her scalpels, he doubted he could hurt more than he did right at that moment. Old pain mixed with new. How on earth could she think that of him? "Mel, I would never, ever expect you to be a trophy wife. I saw what that did to my mom and her friends. I was with you because you were nothing like those girls. I was stupid back then, but I wouldn’t have dumped you for someone like them.”

  “That was part of the problem," Mel retorted. "Like it or not, you're a Maddox. You're freaking Texas royalty. To be the kind of man your parents expect you to be, you need a trophy wife. Someone who can stay at home and plan parties and network with other trophy wives. That's not me. Dad knew what that would do to me, so he saved me from my stupid hormones.”

  Angry bile stuck in his throat. He wanted to cross the room and shake her until she stopped with this nonsense. "Where do you get off deciding what I need? You bitch me out for being controlling? For making decisions for you? I know what I need, Mel, and it sure as hell isn't one of those bimbo wives. I told your dad that, too, not that he’d listen to me. My mother's pushed enough of them at me over the years and I've been bored to tears with every one of them. I choose the women I date. I chose you back then and my choice hasn't changed no matter how stubborn you are."

  Her jaw dropped a little. She stared at him in silence for a few moments. He held his breath, hoping that she'd let her guard down, that she'd let him in for real this time, instead of because she wanted to have sex. Slowly she stood, teetering a little. "I'm going to bed. Nothing is making sense right now and I just... I need to go to bed. You can see you
rself out."

  He probably should have left after he heard her bedroom door close, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Caine made himself comfortable on the soft, girly sofa, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared up at the ceiling. He might look back at this night and call himself a total idiot for talking about feelings when all she’d wanted was sex. He'd lay a bet on it. But he and Mel had been through too much for him to throw it all away by letting history repeat itself with a round of drunken sex and morning regrets. He meant every word he'd said to her. He’d chosen her and he hadn't changed his mind.

  He’d just drifted off to sleep when he heard footsteps in her bedroom, followed by the distinctive sound of puking echoing from the bathroom. Right on schedule. He remembered Mel's first serious encounter with alcohol. They'd only been dating a few weeks and he'd taken her to a party at one of the fraternity houses. Being an Ivy League party, there'd been cheap wine to go with the cheap beer.

  Mel only had maybe two plastic cups full, but she’d started puking on the way back to her dorm. Rather than leaving her to the tender mercies of a resident advisor, he'd taken her back to her dorm room and held her hair as she spent a few hours draped over the toilet of her postage-stamp bathroom. When she finally wore herself out and emptied every ounce of fluid from her stomach, he’d made her drink a little water and take an aspirin. Then, he held her in his arms until she finally fell asleep. Looking back, that might have been the night he’d lost the battle to keep her out of his heart.

  He found Mel hanging over the toilet, her body wracked with spasms as it fought against the wine. She let out a ragged groan and pulled back far enough to rest her forehead against the cool porcelain. "Never, never again."

  “You’re never going on a date with the stuffy lawyer again? I like the sound of that," he said lightly, taking a seat next to her.

  She glared at him under her arm. "I thought I told you to leave."

  He smiled. “I was there the first three times you and wine tried to be buddies. I wasn't going to leave you alone when I knew you'd get sick."

  “Why did I think it would be a good idea to drink wine? I know it's been over nine years, but I shouldn't have forgotten." She moaned, sounding miserable.

  “I vote we blame it on your boring, non-book-reading date." She started to laugh, but it quickly turned into another round of puking. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he used his other hand to hold her ponytail away from her face.

  After she subsided a little, he grabbed a washcloth from the edge of the bathtub and rewet it in the sink. Caine draped the cloth over the nape of her neck, hoping to cool her overheated skin. When she spoke again, her voice was rough and scratchy. "Why are you being so nice to me? I've been such a bitch to you since I got back. Especially tonight."

  “You haven't been a bitch, sunshine. You've acted like...an ex-girlfriend." He pressed his lips to her temple. Even ragged from a nasty hangover, she was still one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. "And I'm being so nice because the 'ex' part was never my idea."

  A lot of things had happened between them, in the past and tonight. But when it came down to it, nothing mattered more than being here right now to make sure she knew she wasn't alone.

  Chapter 8

  After her really, really stupid late night encounter with Caine, Mel did what she did best. She buried herself in her work and refused to see anything else. A few weeks had passed since the attacks on the clinic and her car, and the town seemed to be getting used to her, if not necessarily accepting of her. Sandra kept the snipes down to ten a day and Anna kept Mel sane. A rhythm began to form— albeit an insistent, some would say obsessive rhythm.

  Caine still called her every night at ten thirty on the dot. Since that night, she hadn’t gone on any dates, so she answered the phone, told him she was safely at home, and said good night. Many times, she’d just walked into the apartment from work when he called, but she didn’t need to tell him that. He probably wanted to talk about the night he spent at her apartment, but she had no desire to delve into that.

  Truth be told, she was surprised he hadn’t pushed his way into her office or apartment and forced her to deal with it yet. Maybe he wanted to ignore it as much as she did. Pausing in the middle of writing up, a patient’s treatment notes, she laughed at herself. Yeah, right. Caine was just biding his time. That’s what Maddoxes did best.

  God, she still couldn’t believe she let him come into her apartment, much less made out with him. She never got that drunk. Aside from a strawberry daiquiri or a hard cider when she went out with friends, Mel didn’t really drink. Medically, she knew that getting drunk not only dehydrated your body, it also lowered your mental response time. Which led to you doing really stupid things like making out with your ex-boyfriend and then yelling at him like a maniac.

  Groaning, she covered her face with her hand, resting her elbow on the desk. She wished—oh, how she wished— that she couldn’t remember what she’d said. Sadly, it was burned into her head as vividly as the memory of the hangover she’d had the next morning. Why had she touched red wine in the first place? Oh yeah. The lawyer. He’d tried to call her once or twice, but she hadn’t had the guts to call him back. He was a nice guy, but he didn’t seem like the type who would sit on the floor with her and hold her hair while she puked.

  That part of the other night still confused her. She’d thrown herself at Caine and he’d responded. That part made sense. Whatever their problems might have been back in college, chemistry hadn’t been one of them. Mel shifted a little in her chair, her body heating up at the memory of Caine’s hands on her. While she’d enjoyed what she thought of as healthy physical relationships with Daniel and Andrew, neither of them had set her on fire the way Caine did. He made her want to velcro herself to him and just live on his kisses the second his mouth touched hers.

  She would have slept with him that night if he hadn’t gone all noble on her. All it had taken in college was one drunken deflowering and he’d been in her bed at least three nights a week. Now, he was too honorable to take advantage of her. That hurt. More than she was willing to admit. After two and a half years of Andrew making sure she felt less than she was, being rejected by Caine wounded her more than it should have. Now, with a clear head, she appreciated that he’d stopped it, but as a woman, she wanted to know she still had the power to make a man lose himself. Not that she was likely to do that now. Not with Caine, anyway. Holding someone’s hair while they dry heaved for three hours tended to put a damper on any sort of physical attraction.

  Mel glanced at the clock. Eight at night already? Yikes. She looked at the medical book on her desk she’d been using for research for a tough case. There were only a few more pages in this section on childhood rashes. She could finish it up before coming home and grabbing some dinner.

  The office phone rang. Shit. After hours calls never ended well. Sighing, she picked up the phone. “Unknown Family Clinic, Dr. Carr speaking.”

  “Poor bitch. All alone in the big old house. Get out of town. Go far away from here. Someone might get hurt." The creepy, androgynous voice drifted through the line. Mel's body stiffened.

  “Who is this? What do you want?” No answer. “I’m not leaving town. This is my home and I’m staying.”

  Slamming down the receiver, she allowed herself a full body shiver. Maybe she should tell Gage about the calls. This was starting to go beyond creepy and into the realm of scary.

  It took a bit of effort, but she finally regained control of her thoughts and went back to work. Work. The one constant, comforting thing in her life. If she ever lost it, she’d probably go crazy.

  Halfway through the pages, a small cooler dropped onto her desk, causing her to nearly jump out of her chair. Her heart pounded like a racehorse’s hooves. She looked up, hand on her chest, trying to get a grip on her breathing.

  “Mom!”

  “I did knock, sweetheart.” Emma Carr stood on the other side of the desk, smiling at her daught
er. The understanding aura around her mother was a little disconcerting. “You were too wrapped up in your book, as usual. I swear, your father used to have to carry you out of your room to get you to come eat when you got into a book. When did you last eat a real meal?”

  “Um.” Mel shrunk back guiltily. “I think Anna grabbed something for us from the diner yesterday.”

  Emma made the chastising tsking noise she'd perfected during some of the kids’ less than stellar stunts. Mel seemed to recall that tactic was highly effective when Mama found out the boys convinced Mel to take all of their best mixing bowls to use as molds for clay army helmets. Only one of the glass bowls had survived. “Melody Elaine! I know you didn’t spend the past eleven years learning how to be a doctor only to totally ignore the basic steps of taking care of yourself. No wonder you look like a rail. You have to eat.”

  “I eat.” Mel gestured toward the small refrigerator set up in one corner of her office. “Look in there. Anna keeps it stocked with yogurt and string cheese and fruit.”

  “I’m not sure what kind of nutrition they’re teaching you these days, but I’m fairly certain that, healthy though they are, those things don’t count as a meal.” Emma opened the cooler. Tupperware clouded with steam replaced a few of the books that crowded the desk. “Your brother made some fabulous spaghetti Bolognese for dinner tonight with homemade garlic bread. Now put that book away and eat.”

  Mel sighed. The aroma of tomatoes and garlic didn’t take long to make her stomach roar with hunger. Mel might burn water, but Micah had inherited his cooking talent from both Emma and Ethan. After years of working in fancy kitchens, Micah’s skills had far surpassed their parents’. Mel began to salivate as she pried open the container.