Chapter Nine
Melanie stared at the firehouse, nervous sweat coating her back. She was anxious about what she was about to do, especially after the kiss she’d shared with Knox.
She swallowed hard as she opened the car door.
You can do this, Melanie. She had to talk to him. Make sure she’d be allowed to safely leave town for her art show in Chicago in two days.
She stood outside the door to the 901 for a few seconds, took a deep breath and entered.
Inside the garage, some men were washing a fire truck while others were rolling fire hoses. When they noticed her they stopped to stare. Now Melanie knew what animal’s felt like at the zoo. All eyes were on her.
An older man walked up to her and smiled. “Can I help you?”
“I'm looking for Knox Manning.”
The smile instantly left his face and he grimaced. Had she said something wrong? Why would he react so negatively to her question?
“Brent,” the older man hollered behind him. “Tell Manning there's a lady here to see him. Make sure he knows it's not my daughter.”
Melanie caught the hostile edge to the man's words and wondered what Knox had to do with the man’s daughter.
Maybe Knox was dating her and the older man thought Melanie a threat. The idea made her stomach tighten. She never considered he might have someone in his life. That he was spending his nights in someone else’s arms while she dreamed of him in hers. If that were the case, why kiss her?
Melanie heard footsteps on the stairs. She looked up and saw Knox starting down them.
Her heart did a back flip and sped out of control. The memory of the kiss they’d shared returned. The pressure of his lips. The taste of his tongue. The mere thought had her nipples beading beneath her blouse. He was the most appealing creature she’d ever seen. If given enough encouragement, she’d jump him in front of all his buddies and not give one thought to how it looked. And she wasn't the exhibitionist type. Heck, sex had been no big deal until she'd laid eyes on him. Knox Manning had changed her so much in a short period of time. The whole thing scared her.
“Ms. Sharp, what can I do for you?” Knox asked, his question bringing her back to the reason she was there.
Her mouth went dry and she twisted her hands, uncomfortable that all eyes were on them, the older man's boring a hole into Knox's back. There was something going on there, but what? More importantly, why should she care? She had her own problems. Yet she didn't like the older man's obvious animosity toward the man she found intriguing.
Knox looked around them and pointed to the exit. “Let’s talk outside.”
He didn’t have to ask twice. She’d be happy to leave all the prying eyes behind.
Once they’d left the firehouse Melanie breathed a little easier.
“So, what did you need?” he asked, leaning against the outside of the station.
“I—”
“Look, Melanie. I’m sorry about what I said the other day. I didn’t mean to insinuate that you were a, ah…well, you know.”
“That’s not why I came,” Melanie said, the replay of his comment making her uncomfortable. “I have an art show in Chicago in two days and I need to make sure that I won’t be arrested for leaving town.”
“How long will you be gone?”
Was that disappointment she heard in his voice at learning she’d be leaving? Why should he care where she went as long as she didn’t leave the country?
“Two days at the most? Why?”
He shifted against the wall. “I don’t see a problem with that.”
“Great. That’s all I needed to know.”
Melanie turned to head to her car. His hand snaked out and grasped her wrist. “I was serious about what I said before, Mel. I don’t think bad about you.”
His remark left her with mixed feelings. He’d called her Mel, which was music to her ears. Did he think she was innocent of torching Dean’s house, though? He hadn’t said as much.
She turned to face him again. “What does that mean, Knox? That you don’t think I’m a slut or an arsonist?”
His green eyes turned dark. “I believe you when you say you didn’t know Grainger was married.”
The slim hope Melanie held on to vanished. “Thanks, I appreciate that. Now let go of my arm.”
He frowned. “What did I say wrong now?”
“It’s not what you said.” Melanie pulled free of him. She turned and raced to her car.
She didn’t need any man who thought her capable of horrible things, no matter how attracted she was to him.
As he approached the rear of the vehicle, she jumped into the car and slammed the door.
Knox stood next to the driver’s side door. “Mel, please talk to me.”
Melanie rolled her window down a crack. “I think you’ve said enough.”
She started the engine, put it in gear and took off. Tears clouded her vision. She forced them away. No way was Knox Manning going to make her cry. Not this time—he wasn’t worth the trouble.
* * *
Knox stared at the cars whizzing below his apartment window. Frustrated, he laced his fingers through his hair. His confrontation with Melanie replayed in his mind. She’d come to the firehouse to get his okay to go to Chicago, only to leave angry with him, the last thing he’d wanted.
When they’d stepped outside, he’d been hoping to ask her to dinner, unfortunately their conversation had quickly turned sour.
Knox should’ve never brought up his previous nasty words. To insinuate she was a tiger in the sack and that’s why Grainger wanted her was totally unforgivable. And to bring it up again only fueled her anger.
Why did you call her a whore? That was her take on it.
How was he ever going to get her into his bed now when he was sure that was the last place she wanted to be? Hell, he couldn’t blame her. Not one bit. From the moment he’d met Melanie he’d been a real jerk—stuck his foot in his mouth with every conversation they’d had.
You’d think he was some adolescent kid vying for his first back seat action—not a thirty-two year old man who’d done at least sixty of the one hundred positions he knew.
For whatever reason, Melanie made him unsure of himself every time he got within a few feet of her. He’d never experienced that with any other woman.
What was he going to do? If she were in town, he’d drive over to her house and talk to her. She wasn’t. She was in Chicago for her show—a city he hadn’t visited in ages—and at a ritzy gallery to boot. A white-collar affair. Snobby people. He hated those kinds of things. He’d gone to a few with Sandra, and had the most boring time. Though this was Melanie's art show, a definite draw in his eyes.
A spark of a plan grew.
Maybe he’d drive to Chicago to see her show. Later take her to a romantic dinner. Somewhere intimate where he’d entice her, show her how charming he could be.
A wicked smiled curved his lips.
Nice plan. Would it work? Could he charm her into bed? A week ago he’d have said yes. Since, his confidence had been bruised. The only way to find out for sure though was to go to Chicago.
He jumped up and went to pack. She’d be surprised to see him. Hopefully, once she realized he’d come for her, she’d warm up to him—and with enough encouragement, heat up his bed.
* * *
Melanie downed a glass of champagne for confidence, and headed out of the gallery’s office. Her time had come—her chance to shine as an artist. She prayed her work would be well received.
Collin Fitzpatrick had assured her that her art was wonderful and that most of it would sell tonight. She prayed he was right. These were a collection of her best pieces. If they didn’t get rave reviews, she might as well hang up her easel and stick to ice sculpture.
In the hallway, she studied her reflection in the long mirror on the wall. The green, bohemian dress she’d chosen clung to her slim curves, and actually flattered her non-existent chest. She turned to get a glimpse of th
e back.
“You look hot,” Collin said, standing at the end of the hall. “Now remember, you’re mine after the show. Dinner and dancing.”
Melanie smiled at him. “I’ll remember. Dancing sounds wonderful.”
Collin was nothing like Knox. He had sophistication, and was educated in art and culture. Making love to him would be done on a bed of silk, with champagne and caviar.
Knox was more the “me Tarzan” type. Let’s swing off to my tree and rattle some limbs, with brewskies and beer nuts to follow.
Why did Melanie suddenly have the urge to sip a Budweiser under a shade tree?
And why did that hunky firefighter always have to invade her thoughts? Even standing next to the most eligible bachelor in Chicago didn’t extinguish Knox’s image. He was permanently etched in her brain.
“Are you ready?” Collin’s question drew Melanie’s attention back to him and what was about to happen. Make or break time. Her art show.
“I’m nervous.”
“Just be yourself, Melanie.” He squeezed her shoulder for reassurance. “Everyone will love you.”
Two hours later, Melanie leaned against a wall and sighed. Her throat hurt from talking. She took a sip of champagne, hoping it would help. Almost every painting had sold and Collin spouted to all that she was the next big thing.
He came up to her, grasped her arms and leaned in to brush his lips to her cheek. “Someone just bought your last painting.”
Melanie smiled, excited. “Really?”
“Yes, a tall, dark-haired guy. I’ve never seen him before. He says he knows you.”
Melanie’s mind raced. No way. He wouldn’t have come, would he? No. Don’t be stupid. Why would he come to your art show? “Where?” Her gaze darted around the packed room.
Collin pointed to the far left-hand corner.
Melanie watched people move aside, like the parting of the Red Sea. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him. He stood next to a landscape painting, his eyes on her.
Knox.
She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. Why was he here, and why had he bought one of her paintings?
Melanie found herself lost in his handsome features, and even from a distance she read his desire. For her. Her knees just about gave way.
“Who is he?” Collin asked in a clipped, undeniably irritated tone.
“Knox,” she responded almost breathless.
“A lover?”
His question wasn’t surprising. Not with the way Knox looked at her. To any observer it would appear that way.
Melanie glanced at Collin, then returned her attention to Knox. Like a man on a mission, he headed toward her, his mere presence electrifying the room.
When he’d reached them, he took hold of her hand and without uttering a word, led her in the direction of the exit.
“Where are we going?” she asked, trying to dig her heels into the gallery’s beige carpet.
He glanced over his shoulder. “I need to talk to you alone.”
Once outside and away from the people milling about, he turned to face her.
“You’re an amazing artist, Melanie. I wanted you to know that.”
“Thanks. Do you know anything about art?”
He smiled at the question. “Only what I like.”
Why did the man’s grin always make her feel as if butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach?
“Go to dinner with me?” The baritone of his voice sent a tingle all the way to her toes.
“I can’t. Collin and I already have plans.”
He frowned. “Collin?”
“He’s the curator here. He’s always believed in me as an artist. Stuck his neck out to get me this show.”
“Can’t you cancel?” His fingers brushed against her bare arm, and her skin tingled at the contact. “I came here to be with you.”
“I…ah.”
He leaned closer and whispered, “I want to be alone with you, Mel.” His warm breath whispered across her cheek, turning her legs to rubber. Her heart beat at a frantic pace and she swore it was going to work its way out of her chest. Intense desire washed over her entire body, a desire that throbbed between her legs with the heat of a thousand suns. Was he saying what she thought? That he wanted to make love to her?
Melanie sucked in a breath, and slowly exhaled. She needed a clear head and right now all she heard was the thundering of her heart.
Maybe it was telling her something, giving off some sort of warning to steer clear of danger. In this case the peril came in the form of a huge, extraordinarily handsome man by the name of Knox Manning, a foe, a man who not only could send her to prison, but her heart into v-fib, only to flat line. Was she willing to risk such a thing for a night in his arms?
Chapter Ten
Knox wanted to pull Melanie into his arms and kiss her resistance away, but he knew it wouldn’t achieve his goal—luring her into his bed. He wasn't a damned caveman. He didn't think she'd go for being thrown over his shoulder and forced anyway. He wanted to hear her sighs of satisfaction when he touched her in just the right places.
Knox shook his head, frustrated at how his body ruled his judgment.
Before he met Melanie, he hadn't cared a whole lot about if he satisfied a woman. He never thought much about it. Melanie was different. When they did share an intimate relationship, he'd make damned sure she came before he did.
“Am I interrupting?” Collin asked, startling them.
“No.” Melanie turned toward the man. She actually looked relieved that they wouldn't be able to continue with their conversation.
“Yes,” Knox contradicted, angry that he hadn’t heard the man come up behind them. How long had he been listening to their tête-à-tête? More importantly, where did this stuffed shirt fit into Melanie's life? Knox knew she and Dean hadn't been to bed. What about this guy? Was she sleeping with him? Was there a so-called casting couch in the art world? Had Melanie spread her legs for her chance at becoming a famous artist?
“Melanie, we have a reservation at Stepheno’s at nine.” Collin glanced at his watch. “We have exactly twenty minutes before they give our table away.”
“I'll be right there” Melanie looked at Knox, her hand twisting the material of her dress. “I have to go. Thanks for coming to see my show, oh, and for buying one of my paintings.”
“So that's it?” Knox found it hard to believe she'd chosen a namby-pamby city boy over him. Yet another blow to his manhood. He didn't think he could handle another without losing part of it next time.
Hell, maybe the gods were trying to tell him she wasn't the girl for him—and sleeping with her would just make it harder for him to see that.
“If I'd known you were coming…” Melanie said, drawing his attention back to her.
“What? You would have made time to screw me, too? That's okay.” Knox turned and stalked away. Shit. What he’d just said was the kiss of death with Melanie. Yet she wasn't who he thought she was anyway.
Her hand gripped his arm, and she swung him around. Her strength surprised Knox.
The look she gave him had his stomach flying into his throat. Raw, undeniable pain radiated from her face. Tears clouded her beautiful, powder blue eyes.
“Why do you want to hurt me?” she asked through ragged sobs. The emotion in her voice tore at Knox’s heart. He’d done this to her. His cutting words had made her cry and all because she'd turned him down—made him feel less than a man. Well he deserved to feel that way. What kind of guy made a woman bawl? Tony Ansenee. Was he in the same league as a wife beater?
“Mel, I'm sorry.”
She swiped at her tears. “Are you?”
Knox closed his eyes. He needed to end this charade—had to explain why he said what he did. Jealousy was at its core, and it made him feel better to lash out at her.
“I don’t want you leaving with this guy.”
“Why? What do you want, Knox?”
The time had come. The truth had to be tol
d or she’d never forgive him. “I want you. In my bed.”
“Why?”
“Why?” he repeated, not sure what she was asking him.
“Why do you want me in your bed? I’m sure any woman would be thrilled to have you. So why choose me?”
“I wish I knew the answer to that.”
Melanie didn’t know what to say to Knox’s declaration. He wanted to sleep with her, though he wasn’t even able to tell her why. No way was it attraction, otherwise he’d have said as much. What was left? A fantasy of sleeping with a plain Jane? Or someone he thought started fires for fun. After all he was a firefighter, put them out for a living.
Melanie didn’t know what to think. But he’d come all the way from Barton to see her.
“Could we go somewhere? Talk a while?” Knox asked.
“I have plans, Knox. I can’t break them just because you’re here.”
He nodded to where Collin stood, watching them intently. “Can I ask if you’ve slept with the suit over there?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I haven’t. He’s just a friend. I haven’t been with anyone for a long time. What about you, Knox? I got the impression you were dating one of your officer’s daughter, at least that’s what I overheard at the station.”
His eyes narrowed. “No, I’m not dating anyone right now. What did this person say anyway?”
“He told one of the firemen to tell you there was a woman to see you and to make sure you knew it wasn’t his daughter.”
“The chief” He shook his head. “I did date his daughter. That was over a while ago. Chief Gallan didn’t take the break up too well. He’s made my life pretty unbearable for the last few months.”
“That explains the glare the man gave your back.”
“Melanie, we really have to go,” Collin hollered from the car, his tone sharper this time.
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