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Pulling her head to his shoulder, he stroked her hair, releasing the band that held it and using his fingers to winnow through the fragrant mass. “Sometimes doing the right thing is really hard.”
“How would you know?” The question was tart.
He rested his chin on top of her head. “My college roommate had a drug problem, but he hid it from me for almost a year. I was constantly bailing him out of jail and making excuses for him. Until the night I came home from a date with my current girlfriend and found Toby on the floor of our apartment. Dead. From an overdose.”
He recited the tale simply, even though the recounting jabbed at a spot in his heart that had never quite healed.
Mellie pulled back to look at him, her eyes wide and distraught. “Oh, Case. I’m so sorry.” She put her hands on his cheeks. “You must have been devastated.”
Her simple empathy reached down inside the hard shell he’d worn since his divorce and found purchase in a tiny crack. Emotions roiled in his chest, feelings he hated. It was much simpler when he saw Mellie Winslow as simply a potential bed partner. He didn’t want to know her innermost secrets. He didn’t want to care.
But he was lost...defeated. Almost before the battle had begun. “I want to kiss you,” he said raggedly, “but I can’t. I’m sick.”
Her smile was both wicked and reassuring. “Then I’ll kiss you,” she whispered.
Never in his life had he let a woman take the initiative. Though he didn’t mind an aggressive woman in bed if the mood was right, he liked to lead the dance. Even so, it was damned arousing to submit, even momentarily, to Mellie’s slightly awkward affections.
She started with his stubbly jaw, her tongue damp against his hot skin. The feminine purr of pleasure sent every drop of blood to his sex, leaving him hard and breathless.
“Mellie?”
She ignored him. Leaning into his embrace, she nuzzled his ear, kissed his brow, traced his nose with a fingertip. When her mouth hovered over his, he protested. “No.” It might have been more convincing if he hadn’t been dragging her against his chest. “I don’t need your pity.”
“But you want to kiss me.”
It was a statement, not a question. He shuddered, his arousal viciously demanding, relentlessly insistent. Take, take, take. “Of course I want to kiss you,” he said, the words sandpaper in his throat. Any living, breathing heterosexual male would want to kiss her.
Carefully, telling himself he was still in control, he slid a hand beneath the edge of her sweater and found the plane of her belly with his fingertips. Mellie’s sharp intake of breath spurred him on. When she didn’t move, not even a millimeter, he found her breast and palmed it.
Hell. Her curves were all woman. Beneath a layer of silky stuff and lace, he felt her heat, her life force. Wanting turned him inside out.
Moving slowly so as to not alarm her, he eased them into a reclining position, Mellie on her back, Case on his side—against the couch—his upper body sheltering hers.
She stared up at him, wide-eyed. “We can’t do this.”
He unfastened the button on the side of her skirt...lowered the zipper...exposed her practical cotton undies. “I know.”
“Wait.” She put a hand on his wrist. “Weren’t you supposed to woo me with champagne and strawberries?”
He was shaking. Either his fever was back or he was out of control. “Dessert,” he said, the words barely audible. “In a little while.”
His hand moved of its own accord, breaching the inconsequential narrow barrier of elastic on her bikini underpants and sliding lower.
Mellie whimpered. There was no other word for it. In that raw, needy sound, he heard every last one of his scruples and reservations spelled out. This was insane. He was insane.
He swallowed hard. “Shall I stop?” She would never know what the question cost him.
She held his hand against her body, gripping his wrist until her fingernails dug into his skin. The spark of pain drove his lust a notch higher. “Don’t you dare.”
When he found the moist cleft of her sex, they both groaned. As he stroked her gently, he felt her lift against his hand.
He was dizzy...hungover...and he hadn’t even popped the cork on the bubbly. “Close your eyes, Mellie.”
Mellie panted, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Why hadn’t he removed her sweater? Hell, he couldn’t stop now. It wouldn’t be fair.
“I want to see you naked,” he said urgently.
“Please, don’t stop...” The three words were raspy, but ended on a sharp cry.
Watching and feeling Mellie find satisfaction was humbling. No pretenses. No big show. Just a woman experiencing pleasure—deep, raw gratification.
When she could breathe again, he rested his forehead on hers. “I want you.”
She licked her lips, her expression befuddled. “You’ve been desperately ill. Maybe your heart’s not healthy enough for sex.” She dared to tease him.
“My heart’s fine,” he groused, not amused by her joking allusion to a television commercial. “And I don’t appreciate the reference. I have the flu, not ED.”
She curled her arms around his neck, smiling drowsily. “You’re gorgeous even when you’re sick. It’s not fair. And PS, I’ve never done it with a cowboy.”
“You still haven’t done it,” he pointed out, his disgruntlement tempered only by the fact that he felt like hell.
“They say anticipation is half the pleasure.”
“I’d like a chance to find out.”
“The first day you’re well, I swear. We’ll drink that champagne and go for it.”
“Cheap advice from a woman who just—”
She clapped her hand over his mouth. “Don’t be grouchy. Your time will come. In fact, if you think you’re up to it, I’m right here. Carpe diem and all that.”
He thought about it. Seriously. For about ten seconds. But a quick assessment of his head-to-toe misery settled the argument. “No,” he sighed. “I want to impress you with my carnal prowess.”
“Is that really a thing?”
“You’ll have to wait and see, now, won’t you?”
She frowned, examining his face, no doubt spotting the damp forehead and the sudden lack of color. “You need to be in bed,” she said firmly. “Alone.”
He wanted to argue. He really wanted to argue. But damn it, Mellie was right. “I don’t want you to leave,” he said. “You keep me occupied.”
“That’s one word for it.” She sat up, forcing him to, as well. When they were hip to hip, she took his hand. “I think it’s best if I put cleaning your house on hold...give you a week to recover without anyone underfoot. If you’re better by the end of the week, we’ll talk about resuming our original schedule.”
“I have to be better by the weekend,” he said.
“Why?”
“The club is throwing a big party Saturday night to honor me as the new president.”
“Ah.”
“That’s all you have to say...ah?”
She cocked her head. “What do you want me to say?”
“You could at least act interested.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Mellie. You know I want you to go with me.”
She stood abruptly. “I most certainly do not. We’re barely acquaintances.”
“Aren’t you forgetting what just happened? When I rocked your world?” He smiled to let her know he was kidding about the world-rocking thing.
Mellie actually winced. “Aside from your Texas-sized ego, what you and I have been dancing around is the possibility of a fling, not any kind of official status. That’s crazy.”
“Why won’t you go with me? It’s a single social occasion, not a relationship.”
Her reluctance dinged his pride. It wasn’t boasting to say that any one of a large number of women in Royal would be pleased to attend the upcoming party as his guest. Mellie looked as if he had offered to take her to a funeral.
“I like my life just fine, Case. Other than the occasional run-in with my dad, I’m pretty happy with the way things have turned out for me. I own a business I love... I have a lot of interesting friends. I’m not interested in finding a man to take care of me.”
His temper started a slow boil. “We’re talking about a party, Ms. Winslow. It’s hardly a basis for what you’re thinking about.”
“True. But if we end up in bed together, I’d rather no one else know about it. That way when we’re done, there won’t be any messy explanations to deal with.”
When we’re done... Maybe if he hadn’t felt so rotten, he might have been able to understand why her blithe prediction about their future bothered him so much.
“Fine,” he said, his jaw clenched. “I won’t ask again. If you want me, you’ll have to say so. I’m done here.”
Eleven (#u047f3563-69a3-5384-8cea-74b4d0356db5)
If you want me, you’ll have to say so. Mellie replayed those words in her head a thousand times over the next four days. Her departure from Case’s house Sunday evening was not her finest hour. He had stormed out of the room, and she had left without saying goodbye.
She was ashamed of her behavior. Her only excuse was that, even sick, Case Baxter made her jittery and uncertain about things she had always seen as rock solid in her life. For one, her assumption that having an intimate relationship with a man was something she didn’t have time for.
Honestly, she worked so hard and kept so busy, she rarely thought about what she was missing. She dated now and then, but with only a couple of exceptions over the years, she’d never felt an inescapable urge to have sex just for the sake of having sex.
She thought about it. Alone at night. In the privacy of her bedroom. But her fantasy lovers were compliant and undemanding...exactly the opposite of Case Baxter.
What did he want with her?
By the time she closed the office for a late lunch on Thursday afternoon, she had brought her books up to date, signed contracts with three new clients and worked herself into a mental frenzy of uncertainty. Instead of heading home, she pointed her car in the direction of the diner.
She had to talk to someone, or she’d explode. Amanda was the logical choice.
Fortunately, the sheriff’s wife was in her usual spot, smiling and swapping jokes with her regular customers. Mellie had purposely waited until almost two o’clock, hoping that the noon rush would be over and Amanda would have time for a chat. Because of the subject matter, Mellie snagged the booth in the far back corner, hoping to talk quietly without being overheard.
When the other woman headed her way, Mellie waved a hand at the opposite side of the booth. “Do you have time to take a break? I need some advice.”
Amanda said a word to her second in command and slid onto the bench seat with a sigh. “Success is killing me,” she said. But the smug pride on her face told a different story.
“You love it,” Mellie said.
“True. What’s up, girlfriend? It’s not like you to drop by in the middle of the day.”
Mellie played with the saltshaker, feeling the tops of her ears warm. This was embarrassing. “I may have done something stupid.”
Amanda leaned in, her elbows on the table, hands clasped under her chin. “Do tell. Are we talking five-hundred-dollar-shoes stupid or forgot-to-thaw-the-chicken-for-dinner stupid?”
“It’s more of a personal matter.”
“Oh. My. Gosh. You’ve had sex.”
“No. Well, sort of. But not really. You’re missing the point.”
Amanda raised an eyebrow. “Do I need to give you a lesson about the birds and the bees? Was there nudity involved? Skin-to-skin contact? At your age, I’d think you’d be pretty clear about the definition.”
Mellie glanced around wildly, making sure no one was in earshot. “Lower your voice, please,” she hissed. “I’d rather this not end up on the evening news.”
“Who is it?” Amanda demanded. “The new wrangler over at Hartley Ranch? Or, no, it’s the dentist...right? He’s asked you out a half dozen times and you finally said yes.”
Mellie smiled, despite her turmoil. “It’s not the dentist. He kept wanting to whiten my teeth...not at all romantic.”
“Then who?”
“Back up,” Mellie said. “I didn’t have sex. Or at least not all the way. More like teenagers in the back of a car.”
Amanda appeared to be struck dumb, her eyes wide with astonishment. “It’s like I don’t even know you,” she said.
Mellie wondered suddenly if she should have kept things to herself. But she couldn’t move forward without at least an amateur second opinion. She decided to come at the situation from another angle. “I’ve been invited to the party at the Cattleman’s Club Saturday night.”
“Okayyyy... So what’s the stupid thing you did?”
“I said no.”
“Ah. And now you want to change your mind.”
“Maybe. But what if he’s already asked someone else?”
“Is that likely?”
“I’m not sure. He was mad when I turned him down. Said he wasn’t going to ask again. That I would have to tell him if I wanted to go.” She fudged a bit. That wasn’t exactly how Case had phrased it. He’d said Mellie would have to say she wanted him.
“I still haven’t heard a name.” Amanda’s brow creased.
“The who isn’t important. Because even if I decide to contact him, I don’t have a dress to wear.”
