Melting Into You (Due South Book 2)

by Tracey Alvarez

  “Bree, as our local artiste, you have the most impeccable taste. What do you think about this…smut?” Mrs. Taylor asked.

  Kezia’s gaze flicked up to Ben, watching her intently from across the table as he sipped his beer.

  “I think we shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.” Bree’s voice contained a note of cool detachment. “Perhaps we should save our opinions until after we’ve read it?”

  “Hear, hear. Though I won’t read mine in the staffroom during lunch hour,” Rhonda said.

  “Or me behind the counter while I’m waiting on customers.” Caroline Russell drained the last of her wine. “That cover’s H.O.T.”

  Holly snickered and nudged Caroline’s arm. “Go on, some of our customers could do with a thrill.”

  Erin stood and passed out copies. “Smut it is, then. Enjoy.”

  Mrs. Taylor harrumphed but tucked her book into her voluminous knitting bag.

  “Where’s Ben’s, eh?” Ford sidled up to the table and rested his elbow on Ben’s shoulder.

  Ben shrugged it off and sent him a death glare.

  “You should totally read it, Ben,” said Holly. “Better than the alien conspiracy crap Ford reads.”

  Ford chuckled. “Hey, little green men are more likely to probe Ben’s ass than some hot chick with a horsewhip.”

  Ben’s elbow jabbed out and Ford danced back a step.

  “Or yours, for that matter.” Holly adjusted her strategically mussed hair—this week colored a rich, coppery brown with a strip of lime green on one side. As well as working in Russell’s, Holly moonlighted as Oban’s unofficial hairdresser.

  Kezia cut the other woman a glance, absently noting the two spots of color high on Holly’s razor-sharp cheekbones.

  “Now, kiddies…” Rhonda stood and gathered the empty glasses. “I’m sure one of us can lend the men a book once we’ve finished. As Betsy said, it’d be interesting to hear a male perspective on a romance novel.”

  “Agreed.” Mrs. Taylor thumped her walking stick. “Ben and Ford can be honorary members for the next meeting. Kezia, give your copy to Ben once you’re done. Holly, you drop yours off to Ford, since his mother reads like a snail—no offense, dear.”

  Denise grinned. “None taken. I’m sure the men will be converts afterwards.”

  “Converts,” Ben muttered. “Converted into bloody women. Might as well hand in our man cards now. See what you’ve done, Ford?”

  “Lighten up, brother.” Ford slugged his arm and sauntered off, calling over his shoulder. “Maybe you’ll learn something new to add to your repertoire.”

  Ben slumped down in his chair and grabbed his beer.

  Mrs. Taylor had a hand on his knee before anyone could blink. “There now, ignore him. Women appreciate a widely read man, don’t they, Kezia?”

  “Yes.” Too many warm bodies crammed in a small space must be the reason her internal temperature rocketed into the hot zone. She tugged her merino top away from her neck.

  Mrs. Taylor leaned forward and batted her lashes at Ben, her bejeweled fingers sliding higher up his thigh. “Young Ford’s right—a man might learn something about a woman’s deepest and most secret fantasies from the pages of a romance novel.”

  “Good point.” Ben jerked upright, forcing Mrs. Taylor to let go of his leg or topple off her chair. He pinned Kezia with a panty-melting smile. “Women expect us to read their minds and know what they want—even when they keep changing the rules. Some tips to unravel a woman’s secret fantasies sounds…educational.”

  Kezia stood, chair screeching. Her head pounded as if she’d fallen asleep in the summer sun and awoken with heatstroke.

  “Are you all right?” Ronda touched her arm. “You’re a bit flushed.”

  Ben’s smile grew wider. Smug bastard. Was I want him etched on her forehead like a tattoo?

  “I’m fine. I just need to dash to the ladies.” To dunk her face under the cold water tap. “Excuse me.”

  Kezia left the table without tripping over her feet. The air in the hallway leading to the public restrooms was cooler, thank God, and she slammed open the door. The pink-cheeked, disarrayed woman staring back at her in the restroom mirror accused her of the truth.

  She wanted Ben, wanted him badly. If she didn’t deal with him soon, if she avoided the inevitable, he’d continue to chase her. And she’d continue to want him to.

  Kezia tried to reign in her galloping pulse by splashing tap water on her face. No longer a case of if she’d sleep with him, but when. Until they sated this lust they’d accidently developed, there’d be no peace.

  One night would be enough—for him. A man’s interest waned once he caught his prize. It would have to be enough for her. One night no one else could know about—a chance to be a woman first and a mother second. One night to be touched by a man who made her melt from the inside out.

  Kezia patted her face dry with a paper towel and smoothed her hair. She’d go back out with her head held high, wait until the other women left, and then ask to speak to him in private. Keep it light, casual-like.

  She winked at the mirror. “Hey there, big guy, want to seal the deal?”

  Her nose crinkled. Gesù, that was awful. She was so out of practice—beyond out of practice. She’d never propositioned a man in her life. Her Mamma and Papà would spin in their graves.

  She cocked a hand on her hip, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Tried again, injecting a sex-siren purr to her voice. “You did me, now it’s my turn to do you.”

  Her reflection poked a tongue out. Yuck.

  Last attempt. This time ensuring he wouldn’t need mind-reading abilities.

  “Ben Harland.” She gripped the sink edge and looked straight into her own dark eyes. “I want you to make love to me.”

  The ladies’ bathroom door banged open. Her head whipped around to meet Ben’s hot gaze.

  “Kezia Murphy, I thought you’d never ask.”

  ***

  Ben had some moves.

  Maybe not be the smoothest moves, but he worked with what he had.

  He scooped Kezia off her feet and pinned her to the restroom door before she could utter more than a surprised squeak.

  Not smooth, just very, very effective.

  Ben slid her up until they were face to face, cupping her sweet bottom in his hands. She wrapped her legs around his hips and sighed out his name. Angling his lips on hers, he tasted white wine and a sweetness that was pure sunshine. Pure Kezia.

  The touch of her tongue spurred him to press closer, molding their bodies together. He slid a hand under the clingy top that’d been driving him nuts, toyed with the silky flesh of her side between her jeans and the bump of her ribs. Fingers threaded through his hair and tightened, a sharp tugging that would’ve hurt if he hadn’t been calculating the distance to West’s office desk—the nearest piece of horizontal furniture.

  He skimmed kisses along her jaw. Sampled the cool, damp skin of her cheekbones, touched his tongue to a missed droplet near one shell-like ear, and nibbled a fleshy lobe.

  “Please—” She wriggled, the inseam of her jeans rubbing a hard-on that could almost support her bodyweight unaided.

  A helpless groan tore from his throat and his hand, still on the curve of her ass, squeezed. “Sweetheart, you’re killing me. Stay still.”

  Ben buried his face in her neck and breathed. Inhaled her so deep into his lungs his eyes crossed. Melting into him, her breasts shifting in delicious friction every time she sucked in a breath, Kezia stroked the back of his neck. Every hair on his nape rose, begging for her attention. His hairs weren’t the only things begging for her touch.

  He was lust drunk. Disoriented, fuzzy-minded, incapable of sensible action—like getting out of the women’s restroom.

  Bona-fide lust drunk.

  She petted him again, and his gaze lifted to her kiss-wet lips.

  “Kezia.”

  The trail of her fingers up to his jaw had him shivering. Her thumb brushed his lower lip, ho
oking another moan out of his throat from the depth of his guts. She silenced the sound with a short, sweet kiss.

  “I asked you to make love to me,” she whispered. “But I didn’t mean here—now.”

  His heart jackhammered inside his chest. “You meant it though.”

  She shut her eyes, sagging a little as she rested her forehead on his. “Yes.”

  And didn’t her admission shoot another round of feel-good-fire down south? Feel-good-fire accompanied by something else—tenderness, and the urge to hold on.

  “Good. That’s good. I hoped you weren’t talking about some other guy when you mentioned sealing the deal.” He stroked his knuckles down her face, and they bumped over the apples of her cheeks as she smiled.

  “Just practicing my come-on lines. I didn’t know you were skulking outside.”

  “Yeah, waiting to pounce on you. Kind of a pervert, aren’t I?”

  “You’re no pervert.”

  “And you don’t need a line to get me in your bed.”

  Kezia unhooked her ankles and lowered one foot to the floor, watching him from beneath her lashes. “Easy, then.”

  He gave her a little space, unable to resist giving her ass one more squeeze. “A complete pushover. Willing to be used over and over for your sexual pleasure.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “But before I become your love slave, how about we go on this two thousand dollar date I owe you?”

  Her gaze cut left, and she held up a finger.

  “Whatever lame-ass lie you’re thinking of Kez, skip it.”

  Harrumphing, she folded her arms, tucking her hands down the sides of her breasts. He desperately wanted to follow her hands. With his lips. He jammed his fists in his jeans pockets, only to find his dick hadn’t switched to not doing Kezia against the bathroom door mode and there wasn’t room.

  A muscle worked in her throat. “Piper told you. I should’ve known.”

  “Hey.” He backed her up against the door again, boxing her in. “Remember when you said I wasn’t thick?”

  Her chin wobbled up and down.

  “I guessed, Kez. Piper would never betray your confidence.”

  “Oh.”

  “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” A brittle edge sharpened his tone, even though he’d aimed for light teasing. “Or are you afraid you can’t keep your hands off my bod in a public place.”

  “The second option, like you didn’t know.”

  Heat swept through him, melting the frost that had cooled his blood. “Makes the humiliation of being auctioned off like a stud horse a little more palatable.”

  “I think you would’ve fetched a decent price.”

  “Hell, yeah.” He shifted his palms braced above her head, slid them to down to settle on her waist. Swooped low for a quick kiss. “But I’m glad you bought me and not some other woman with amoral designs on my studly-ness.”

  Her breathing hitched, and she tilted her jaw. As if she wanted him to taste the soft skin of her throat. “My designs were innocent, I assure you.”

  Back to the act of gratitude. “Ah, yes. You thought you owed me something more than a thank you.”

  “I did owe you. Gav was completely out of control.”

  “You didn’t need to thank me with your check book.”

  She fisted a handful of his tee shirt bunched at his hips, and the accidental brush of her knuckles on his skin made him wish the ladies’ door had a lock.

  “Look at the way Zoe and I live. Do you think money dictates our lives?”

  He shook his head.

  “Callum’s life insurance sits in my bank account gathering interest. Mostly I refuse to touch it. I didn’t earn the money, and it’s earmarked for Zoe’s future, not mine. I was happy to help you out, but I’ve no intention of hanging a neon sign over my head announcing Kezia is loaded.”

  “In case the guys start wanting you for more than just your brains and beauty.”

  She laughed, letting go of his shirt and slapping his ass. “Oh, please.”

  Even better than slapping his ass? She left her hand there, sliding her fingers into his back pocket. Damn, but he liked the feel of her hands on him.

  “You realize I’ll repay you every cent.” And then some. She sure as hell wouldn’t be paying Ford to fix her plumbing next time she needed help.

  “You don’t owe me anything, Ben, especially since I’ve agreed to that hot date.”

  “I’ll do better than a movie and pizza.” He rocked gently into her. “I told you once that when I took a woman on a date, she’d know it.”

  “I don’t mind what you cook up, as long as everybody in Oban doesn’t hear. For Zoe and Jade’s sake.”

  “Because the girls will jump to the wrong conclusion.”

  She cocked her head. “I can’t speak for Jade, but Zoe would love us to be in a Disney movie where the widowed mom and solo dad get married and live happily ever after. One big, happy family.”

  He stilled, blood draining from both his groin and his brain, a thick, curdling sensation in his gut. The idea of marriage had always broken him out in a cold sweat. One woman, a lifetime commitment, the responsibility of providing for her every need and future happiness. He already had too many people in his life to let down. He didn’t need to add to that number.

  Kezia slid her hand out of his pocket and shoved his chest until he backed up. Her lips curved in a small smile, but something hard glittered in her dark eyes. “We’re pragmatists, you and I. We both know this is a one-time deal.” She opened the door. “One time, and no one—especially our girls—will get hurt.”

  The door hissed shut after her, leaving him staring at the scarred wood.

  Kezia was right. Nobody needed to know a fundamental Ben rule was to be broken. Limiting it to a one-time thing meant no entanglements or emotional demands afterwards.

  So, why did it piss him off a little that she suggested it?

  Because he was a moron. A moron who agreed to a single hook up, when his heart told him in no uncertain terms once wouldn’t be enough.

  Delusional, lust-hangover-talk. His heart didn’t know what the hell it was talking about.

  Ben squared his shoulders and yanked open the bathroom door—came face to face with Shaye.

  “Don’t ask,” he snarled, stalking into the hallway.

  “I won’t.” His sister slapped her hands on her apron-covered hips. “But you may wanna wipe Kez’s lip-gloss off your mouth.”

  Damn.

  Now he could taste her all over again.

  Chapter 11

  “Mrs. Willis says you’re doing well.” Ben stretched his legs under the dining table as Jade shut her spelling book.

  “Yep—and she gives me a chocolate at the end of each session. I like her.”

  In the two weeks since Jade’s first assessment and report of having mild dyslexia, he’d managed to get her in with the same specialist who’d helped him. Kezia also worked with her one on one, and she’d offered to give Jade a little support writing her first book report this evening. During both visits to Mrs. Willis on the mainland, Ben hadn’t broached the subject of his own dyslexia. Something held him back. Awkwardness? Pride? Fear of exposing his vulnerability? Whatever. His ego wouldn’t do Jade any good.

  He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “She helped me as a kid too.”

  Jade’s eyes widened. “She did?”

  “Yeah. I’m dyslexic as well.”

  He’d only ever admitted that out loud to Kezia. And now he’d told Jade.

  She played with her spelling book, creasing and un-creasing the corner. “Mum said I had her looks and my daddy’s brains. When she told me you were my daddy and not Simon, I figured you must be dumb like me.” Her clear hazel eyes bored into his, completely guileless. “But you’re not dumb.”

  Ben forced his lips to turn up into a smile, though it felt like someone had punctured his heart with a rusty pickaxe. “No. And neither are you. So your mum’s right—you’re pretty and smar
t.”

  She ducked her chin, but her mouth kicked up at the corners.

  “Did Marci ever take you to someone like Mrs. Willis?”

  “Nope. Mum argued with Mr. Edmunds at my old school. I got sent to his office a lot for being naughty.” She looked up at him from under her lashes. “She told him I was a problem child, but there was nothing wrong with me.”

  “She said that in front of you?”

  “I had to sit in the hallway, but I heard her. She was yelling.” Jade picked at the notebook some more. “Mum told me Blake is the smart kid, and I’m the pretty one who’s good at art. She says I don’t need to be smart to paint pictures and find a husband.”

  Ben’s gut clenched until her snarky tone and eye roll registered. Thank God the kid really had inherited some of his brains. She obviously could spot bullshit from ten paces.

  “What a crock. You can do whatever you like when you grow up, you know that, right?”

  She nodded.

  “And at eight years old—”

  “Nine soon—”

  He waved a hand. “And at nine years old, you’re too young to worry about getting married—I won’t even let you date until you’re twenty-five.”

  “As if.”

  “What? You like boys now?”

  Her nose crinkled. “No way—boys suck.”

  “Exactly. So about this dyslexia thing. Don’t stress it, kid. We’ll get you ready for vet school one day—if that’s what you want—with Mrs. Willis and Kezia’s help.”

  Jade twirled her pencil against her chin. “So you can read and do stuff okay now, Dad?”

  “Mostly. Some days the letters and numbers won’t behave, and I get really frustrated. But I’ve also been lazy, avoiding reading whenever I can.”

  “Kezia says you should read every day.”

  “Time for a refresher lesson from Mrs. Willis? Bet she’ll give me two chocolates at the end.” He wriggled his eyebrows.

  “No she won’t, ‘cause that’d be cheating. And Mrs. Willis is old and smells like talcum powder.”

  True. He couldn’t believe the old duck was alive, let alone still teaching. “What’s that got to do with anything?”