by Anne Oliver
Five years ago he’d figured her words had just bruised his ego, but right now they damn near drew blood.
Last night had meant something to him.
And while he was trying to come up with what that elusive ‘something’ was, she opened her eyes and looked at him. Looked at him as if she could see inside him.
He looked back, searching for answers. ‘Have you ever wondered what sort of relationship we might have if there was no sex involved?’
She blinked, long lashes framing her eyes, which looked too large and too dark against her pale skin. ‘No sex?’ She shook her head. ‘Our relationship’s based on sex. That’s what it is.’
Was she right—was sex the only attraction? Did she believe that? Because he wasn’t so sure that skin to skin was enough any more. He was tired of living alone, he wanted someone to come home to, someone to share life with at the end of a long day. He’d wanted that for a long time. He just hadn’t realised it till now.
‘Go home, Luke. Your family comes first, go and get reacquainted with your parents again. I’m on night duty for the next few days and the Rainbow Road committee’s meeting to discuss our next fund-raising project. And I promised to help with—’
‘Why do you push yourself so hard?’ Almost as if she was trying to leave herself no free time. Or was she only trying to leave no time for him?
‘I’ve been doing it for the past five years—it keeps me focused.’
No, it keeps her distracted, he thought, remembering the girl he’d known who’d played the occasional hooky from work to play with him. She was using work to shut out whatever her problem was.
Her rejection, and the fact that she hadn’t opened up to him, disturbed and irritated him and he stepped away. He couldn’t suppress the tension in his fingers as they curled into fists against his sides, nor the tightness in his voice when he said, ‘Fine. Go and have your sleep.’
Without a backwards glance he let himself out. But he stood on her doorstep for several moments watching the winter sun sink slowly behind the shadowed apartment buildings, feeling the chill of the wind slice through his shirt.
What had happened in the past few years that had changed her?
* * *
‘Let Ben do it.’ Carissa’s hand waylaid Melanie as she rose to help him clear the table.
‘But he cooked, it’s only fair…’
‘You’ve got to work tonight and Ben loves washing dishes.’ She batted her eyelashes at him and smiled sweetly. ‘Don’t you, my love?’
Ben skirted the table with an armload of dirty crockery to give Carissa a kiss. ‘You forget we have a dishwasher.’
‘I didn’t forget, but you’re not going to put my eighteen-carat-gold-rimmed china in the dishwasher, are you?’ she stated firmly.
‘Wouldn’t think of it.’ He swapped a conspiratorial grin with Melanie and disappeared into the kitchen.
Carissa hauled her very pregnant form out of the chair. ‘Excuse me a moment…’
A moment—no, Melanie checked her watch—several moments later, she was still waiting. She finished off her half-glass of wine, her limit for a working night. She could hear the two of them talking in the kitchen.
The talking ceased for a bit, then she heard Carissa laugh—or more precisely, giggle. And a very masculine, very turned-on groan.
Melanie squirmed on the polished mahogany chair. Since Luke’s return into her life her libido had sprung out of hibernation and hit the ground running. Thank God she’d been working the night shift. She’d punished her body by doubling her daily jog and had fallen into bed exhausted.
Another giggle drifted on the air, cut off abruptly, as if someone, or something, had stifled it. Like a mouth.
Picking up her glass, she marched to the kitchen and glared in mock annoyance at the clinched pair. They were in lock-down mode, hard up against the dishwasher, with Carissa’s T-shirt pushed up and her bare stomach between them.
Lost in each other. The phrase echoed in her head. That was what Luke had said about the two of them the other night. Deliberately blocking the memory, she cleared her throat. ‘Ben, you’ll give that baby palpitations. Go find something else to do, I’ll finish up here. You’ve monopolised your wife quite enough, it’s my turn.’
‘Sorry, Mel.’ He grinned at her, rubbing circles over Carissa’s belly. ‘Got a little carried away.’
‘Go,’ a thoroughly kissed Carissa ordered and pointed the way to his studio. ‘I told you she’d find out your dirty little secret.’ She turned to Mel, her face flushed, eyes shining. ‘He’s developed a fetish for pregnant women’s bellies.’
He lifted his hands and backed off. ‘Okay, I’m gone.’
‘I sincerely hope that’s singular, as in “woman”.’ But Melanie already knew that without a doubt. ‘How is my little niece or nephew doing in there?’ She crossed the floor and put her own hands on Carissa’s belly.
A sense of wonder filled her, and tonight she also felt the familiar keen sense of loss. The baby kicked against her hands at that moment; she looked up and met Carissa’s eyes.
‘Mel…’ Further words were unnecessary. The dulcet strains of Ben’s guitar floated through the closed door to the studio, a poignant piece that seemed to echo the moment.
‘It’s okay, Carrie. I’m okay. And I’m so happy for you and Ben.’
Carissa nodded, placing her hands over Mel’s. ‘I can’t believe it’s happening again so soon.’ She straightened up, arching backwards and pulling her T-shirt down at the same time. ‘Let’s go back into the lounge.’
‘But these dishes—’
‘Can wait. Ben’ll do them when you’ve gone.’ She snagged Melanie’s arm on her way and brightened her tone. ‘I want an update on your love life. All the gory details. I remember when it used to be you asking me. What’s been happening?’ She plonked herself on the sofa and patted the space beside her.
Melanie couldn’t sit. She wandered to the window and looked out into the darkness. Then told her sister about the night she’d spent with Luke and the arrival of his parents.
‘I nearly told Luke about the baby, Carrie, when he came by after, but I couldn’t. I don’t even know how long this thing between us will last this time. Or if there is an “us”.’
Carissa snorted. ‘You couldn’t have been paying attention to the way he was looking at you in the pub that night. Everyone else noticed.’
The words made her heart do a funny little tap-tap, but she said, ‘What’s the point of—’ she nearly said ‘falling in love’ ‘—a relationship if he goes overseas and I never see him again?’
‘Did he tell you that?’
Melanie shook her head. ‘It’s just a gut feeling.’
‘You could go with him.’
‘If he asked me like he did last time?’
‘He bought an apartment,’ Carissa pointed out.
Melanie shrugged. ‘An investment.’
‘Okay, leaving all that aside, how do you feel about him now?’
Mad, passionate, head-over-heels. Crazy. ‘The same. And different—I look at him and see the man I loved. The man who fathered my baby.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘The only man I’d ever want to father my baby.’
‘The man who doesn’t know,’ Carissa said softly.
‘I tried telling him five years ago but it didn’t happen. What good’s it going to do now?’
‘That’s a cop-out, Mel. And it’s not being fair to him. I know because I thought the same thing about Ben. Figured he’d be better off. If he finds out for himself…’
‘Not likely—I don’t keep contact with the crowd from those days.’ But Melanie sighed, knowing Carissa was right. Knowing she’d tell him. Not knowing the consequences.
He’d made it clear what he thought of their relationship. She couldn’t allow herself to fall in love…or was it already too late?
* * *
Luke was caught up with his parents for the next few days. He resisted the urge to call Melanie. He
wanted to surprise her and he wanted to do it right. A call to Adam gave him the information he needed. Tonight she got off at nine p.m. and she wouldn’t be on duty till three p.m. the following day. A simple supper, then.
Candlelight. He set the squat jasmine-scented candles on the polished wooden table. Women went for candles. And nice crockery. He’d had a devil of a time picking out the china. He frowned at the two settings. Had he thought simple? He almost laughed. He couldn’t see himself eating off the dainty rose-sprigged plates, but he’d bought a set anyway, putting his black octagonal back in the cupboard. The new silverware gleamed; the crystal flutes sparkled.
He’d hired a chef to cook the supper—Vietnamese spring rolls with dipping sauce, a salad plate of cucumber, bean sprouts, spring onions and coriander. Caramelised pineapple and citrus fruits with spiced Muscat cream to follow. All chilling in the new stainless-steel refrigerator.
He checked the time, and with a last satisfied glance over the arrangements, he grabbed his keys.
‘What are you doing here?’ Melanie came to a halt on the hospital’s linoleum floor, her heart fluttering at the sight of the man she least expected to see on her ward at nine-fifteen p.m. blocking her way. And looking gorgeous and wildly sexy with his come-away-with-me eyes.
‘I might ask you the same question.’ Those eyes narrowed as he rocked back on his heels. ‘They told me you were off duty—’ he checked his watch ‘—fifteen minutes ago.’
A thread of annoyance wound through the surprise. So now she had to account for her whereabouts? What had happened to the no-strings clause? ‘We’re busy tonight.’ He didn’t need to know she’d volunteered an extra hour every night for the past few days because she didn’t want to see him. Didn’t want to think about him.
Especially not his full lips with their signature almost-smile. But from a few feet away she remembered how those lips had felt against hers. His taste spun through her head, that smoky turned-on tone of his voice raced through her veins.
He wore the black leather jacket he’d worn to Luna Park and she knew just how it felt against her fingers. Warm from his skin, soft as whipped cream. She wondered what would happen if she took those few steps closer and relived those few moments.
If she burrowed into that tempting strip of exposed T-shirt beneath the jacket and walked her hands beneath its hem— She jerked her gaze away, curled her fingers around the tray of medication she held.
‘One of my little patients isn’t settling well tonight and I’m sitting with her. I was just getting her something to help her sleep.’ She adjusted the medication on the tray.
‘What time do you expect to get off?’ he asked, with the confidence of a man who expected things to fall into place just because it suited him. Or was it because he had a free night and they hadn’t had sex in four days and—she did a quick calculation—eleven hours.
‘An hour,’ she lied. ‘Or two.’
A furrow formed between his brows. ‘That’s not true. The staff at the desk informed me you’re only helping out, and I’ve made plans for the evening.’
‘Plans?’ It sounded tempting, especially spoken in that low, rumbling voice, and a perverse part of her wanted to toss away the medication along with her soft-soled shoes and skip out with him. ‘Why didn’t you ring first?’
‘I wanted to surprise you.’
‘Well, you did.’ She started walking, moving to one side to pass him, but he stepped in front of her, his smooth coat-sleeve brushing her bare arm, a whiff of fresh masculine soap greeting her nostrils. She jerked her chin up to glare at him, but softened when her gaze connected with his. How could she turn him down? Even if seeing him would make it harder later, to let him go? ‘Sorry, I’ve got to get this to Judy.’
‘I’ll wait.’ He jammed his hands in his pockets and stepped aside.
She felt his eyes on her as she continued down the corridor until she turned the corner. When he could no longer see her, she stopped, leaned a hip against an unoccupied gurney.
Her pulse raced, she had to steady her breathing. The spine-tingling, heart-grabbing thrill of seeing him there, as if she’d summoned him up by thought alone, raced through her body. What was this all about? She’d heard nothing from him since the day his parents had arrived. Now he’d turned up at her place of work with Plans.
‘Melanie.’ A senior staff member approached, tapping her watch—obviously in cahoots with Luke. ‘You’re off duty as of fifteen minutes ago.’ She took the tray from Melanie’s hands and smiled at her over her spectacles. ‘Visiting hours are over, young lady, and there’s an attractive man waiting impatiently at the nurses’ station. Go home.’ She winked. ‘Better still, go home with Mr Tall Dark and Handsome.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘I’M NOT dressed for an evening out.’ Melanie huddled in her old purple sheepskin as Luke drove them through the city. She’d worn denim and a baggy old windcheater intending to go straight home tonight.
He glanced at her, his eyes glittering with promise in the dashboard lights. ‘You don’t need to be for what I have in mind.’
She had an all-too-clear idea of what that was. But a voice of caution whispered through her veins and over the impatient drum of her heart. Now that his parents had settled in, she was being invited back into his life. For how long?
Each time she looked into Luke’s deep dark eyes, would it be her last? She directed her gaze ahead and watched Sydney’s shimmering lights bleed into the road’s surface in strands of liquid colour as a rain-shower swept over the city.
Could she enjoy what they had, content to live each moment with him to the fullest, and be happy while it lasted? Live the adventure, her inner voice whispered.
Only one way to find out.
* * *
Luke came to an abrupt halt in the dining room. They both stared at the china and crystal, the unlit candle, the clutch of violets he’d picked from the garden on a whim.
At the time the rose plates had seemed like a good idea. His neck burned and he shifted his shoulders, uncomfortable with the whole romantic set-up. He wished like hell he’d just booked a table in town like any other male he knew would.
‘Oh, Luke. Are we having an intimate supper?’
He felt Melanie come up beside him, but he couldn’t look at her. Stupid, he knew, but the scene was so damn…feminine. He cleared his throat. ‘I know. It’s…’
‘Romantic. And very sweet.’ He felt her hand on his forearm. ‘You even borrowed your mum’s china for me.’
‘Ah…no. That’s mine.’ By God, why had he gone and said that?
She blinked, obviously surprised. ‘O…kay.’
‘The sales girl told me women go for that sort of stuff.’
‘Most women do.’ She blinked again. ‘I do,’ she corrected quickly. Too quickly. Her hand tightened on his arm. ‘You bought crockery to please me.’
He shrugged, confused, embarrassed, and crossed his arms. ‘Hell, Melanie, I don’t know what pleases you. I don’t know where I am with you.’
And that had always been the attraction—and the dilemma. Melanie was different from any other woman he’d known. She never failed to surprise him.
She lifted her face and met his eyes. Her gaze melted into his, her lush lips puckered as she leaned closer. ‘You’re doing pretty well so far.’
He nodded, but stepped back, giving himself breathing space, because that was what the room seemed to be lacking at the moment—oxygen. ‘That’s the point of this exercise.’
‘Exercise?’ She straightened, a perplexed little frown forming on her brow. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I want to know you. I want you to know me.’
‘I thought we knew each other pretty well already.’
‘That’s just it—we know each other’s erogenous zones, but what else do we know? For instance, what’s my favourite movie? What’s yours? How do I feel about extra-terrestrial colonisation? Do you like walking on the beach in the rain?’
She looked at him as if to say, Why do we need to know this when all we really need to know is how many different ways can we pleasure each other?
Or perhaps she was simply reading his own mind, he decided as his eyes drifted to the loose top she wore and his fingers tingled… He cleared his throat. ‘Mel, tonight’s an experiment. No sex…’
‘No sex, huh?’ Her expressive eyes dimmed a little.
He reached out, traced the line of her jaw. ‘Honey, it’s only for tonight. Not because I don’t want it, but because I want to explore us in a different way. Can we do that?’
She nodded slowly, a dubious half-grin on her lips. ‘We can try. The question is why?’
He didn’t want to answer that because he wasn’t sure yet if he even had an answer. ‘Just play along with me, okay?’
An eyebrow arched. ‘Play? Okay,’ she said when he didn’t answer. The spark of challenge in her eyes seared him to the spot. ‘My favourite movie is Pretty Woman and I love walking on the beach in the rain. Yours is 2001: A Space Odyssey, and if you’d been fifty years younger you’d probably be the first geologist on the first manned mission to the red planet.’ She rubbed her hands. ‘So, now we’ve got that sorted, what’s for supper, Romeo?’
Luke’s jaw dropped open as he watched her saunter into the kitchen. Lucky guess? ‘Okay, what’s the name of the pet dog I had when I was twelve?’
‘Meteor. Face it, Luke, you’re well and truly trounced. Ooh, yum,’ she murmured as she opened the refrigerator and peered inside.
He propped his shoulder on the door frame and watched as she leaned over and in, the curve of her bottom bobbing in a way that made his whole body tighten. He instantly regretted his plans for a romantic, no-sex evening. He continued watching as she backed out and straightened with a slice of the sticky pineapple dessert between her fingers.
She held it up. ‘Have you become a gourmet cook in your absence?’
He pushed away from the door frame. ‘I wish I could take the credit, but I’m still a toasted-sandwich guy…’ Her tongue darted out to sample the toffee coating, and his own mouth watered.