Good Guy Heroes Boxed Set

by Julie Ortolon

  But that didn’t seem to be the case with Chris. He and Nana were yakking away like they’d known each other for years. His smile and easygoing manner certainly seemed genuine. He couldn’t really be such a nice guy, could he? All that male pulchritude and nice? Nah. Impossible.

  He laughed at something Nana said, and Melanie shook her head in wonder. If he wasn’t nice, he was doing a damn good imitation of it. Darn it! He had to be a creep. She wanted him to be a creep. She needed a reason to tell him to get lost so her hormones would sit down and shut up.

  He and Nana burst out laughing again, and Melanie swallowed a groan of dismay. Her common sense told her this was bad. Exceedingly bad. Her hormones broke out into a rousing chorus of “Our Day Will Come.”

  “Did you say something, dear?” Nana asked.

  Melanie blinked out of her reverie. “Huh?”

  “You were mumbling. Something about hormones.” Nana peered at her over her bifocals. “Are you okay? You look flushed.”

  Melanie grabbed a doughnut. “I’m fine. The coffee’s making me hot.” Yup. The coffee’s making me hot. That was her story and she was stickin’ to it. She wasn’t wondering what he looked like naked at all.

  They polished off the doughnuts in record time. Chris helped load the dishwasher, a gesture that sent Nana into a near swoon. When they finished cleaning up, Nana enfolded Chris in one of her famous bone-crushing hugs. “Any man who brings doughnuts and loads the dishwasher is okay in my book. You’re welcome at Casa Gibson anytime, young man.” She turned to Melanie and said in a whisper that probably the neighbors could hear, “Don’t let this one get away. He’s a real honey. Great legs, too.” She patted her frizzy hair. “Well, I’d better go fix myself up. See you young folks later.”

  Melanie breathed a sigh of relief and pretended her cheeks weren’t on fire. Five more minutes and Nana would be hinting about something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.

  Chris leaned his hips against the gleaming granite countertop. “Your nana is quite a character.”

  Melanie’s hackles rose. No one insulted Nana and got away with it. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “Character? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He held up his hands in surrender. “No need to evil-eye me. It means I think she’s great. Very funny. I like her a lot.”

  She uncrossed her arms. Drat. He liked Nana. Didn’t think she was a pest. And Nana obviously liked him. Why couldn’t he have said what her last date said? Something insulting to the effect that Nana was a crazy old bag. Then she could have sizzled him with a withering glance and told her hormones to take a hike. Her wandering eyeballs gave him a quick once over. Jeez, he was beautiful. Damn it, she needed a cold shower.

  “You like her even though she says whatever pops into her head? Even though her whisper is more like a shout?” Melanie asked. Those two traits of Nana’s had particularly irked Todd.

  “Far as I’m concerned those are two of her best qualities. Especially the shouting whisper.” He grinned and shot her a wink. “She thinks I’m a real honey and have great legs.”

  Okay, time out. As if his smile wasn’t enough to melt knees, a man who looked like him should not be allowed to wink. Ever. Jeez. There oughtta be a law.

  “So, do you want to observe while I look at your car,” Chris asked, “or are you going to whip up some dessert?”

  “Dessert? We just ate breakfast!”

  “I meant for the cookout.”

  She stared at him. “What cookout?”

  He stared back at her. “The cookout at my mother’s house. Today. At two o’clock.”

  She shook her head. “I’m drawing a blank. Am I supposed to know about this?”

  He reached out and laid his hand on her forehead. “Hmmm. No fever, but your short-term memory is shot.”

  Melanie stepped back from his far too distracting touch. No fever? Coulda fooled her. She felt like she was melting from the inside out. “Refresh my memory.”

  “My proposition. I fix your car, and you come with me to the family cookout. I need a date so my mother doesn’t try to fix me up with every single woman within a fifty-mile radius.” He paused. “And we need to bring dessert.”

  Melanie cocked a brow at him. “Wow. What a romantic invitation. Be still my heart.”

  A devilish gleam sparkled in his eyes. He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed his mouth over the backs of her fingers. “You want romance?”

  “Yes. I mean No! I mean stop kissing my hand.” She tried to snatch her hand away, but he held on, his eyes glittering with unmistakable mischief.

  “Nana seemed to like the idea,” he said. “She can’t wait to go.”

  “Nana?” Melanie croaked. “My Nana? When did she agree to this?”

  Chris shook his head. “It’s terrible how the heat affects some people. I told you in the foyer. Before breakfast. Nana and I discussed the plans while we were eating. Where were you?”

  “I was, er, preoccupied, I guess.” With convincing myself I don’t like you. Yeah. And imagining him naked.

  “Well, you seem lucid now. So what do you say?” He dipped his head and looked up at her with a beseeching expression no breathing woman could possibly be immune to. Including her. “C’mon. Nana already said yes. And you’d really be doing me a favor.”

  “Favor? Well, guess I owe you one. Probably two, if you’re the scorekeeping sort.”

  He ran his index finger along the bridge of her nose, skittering a shiver of delight down her spine. “I’m the scorekeeping sort, and you owe me three.”

  “Three? How do you figure that?”

  “One for blocking in my car, one for my ruined suit, and one for jump-starting your car. That’s three.”

  “I gave you chicken, so you’re down to two.”

  “I gave you a ride home. Three.”

  “I invited you in for breakfast. Two.”

  “I brought Boston cream doughnuts. Three.”

  “Oh, all right Three. Sheesh. You sound more like a lawyer than an accountant.”

  He shot her a woebegone look that reminded Melanie of a sad puppy.

  “Hey!” she protested, suppressing a grin. “Quit looking at me like that. I bet you practice that look in front of the mirror. No fair.”

  “I’m desperate. My mother wants to fix me up with some woman who has two heads, breathes fire, and could eat me in one gulp.” He chucked her under her chin. “Come on,” he coaxed. “It’ll be fun. And you’ll get your car fixed for your trouble.”

  Melanie narrowed her eyes. “If, and I do mean if I save your sorry butt from the ‘dragon lady,’ then you have to call us even on the favor thing.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, Mel Gibson.”

  “Damn straight. And I have to be home early. I need to gather some papers for an appointment tomorrow morning.”

  He held out his hand. “Deal.”

  Melanie shook his hand and tried her best to ignore the zing of pleasure that zoomed up her arm at his touch. “Deal. Now haul it outside and fix my car.”

  He offered her a smart salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.” He brushed past her, then paused in the doorway. “About dessert— Nana said she wanted to bring her own contribution and she’s baking a cheesecake, so anything chocolate you wanted to make would be great.” After flashing her a big grin and another one of those darn winks, he left. The front door closed several seconds later.

  Melanie collapsed in a chair and waved her hand in front of her face in a hopeless effort to cool off.

  Yup. She was in trouble for sure.

  *

  AN HOUR LATER , Melanie stepped outside into the oppressive heat carrying a frosted mug of lemonade. Laughter bubbled up in her throat at the sight that greeted her eyes. The only part of Chris that was visible were his legs. The rest of him was under her car. As much as she didn’t want to, Melanie couldn’t help but admire those muscular, tanned male legs.

  Walking up to him, she tapp
ed his Reebok with her flip flop. “I brought you something to drink.”

  He scooted from beneath the car, moving sideways like a sand crab. When his head was clear, he stood up and wiped his dirty hands with an equally dirty rag. In spite of being sweaty, rumpled, and sporting a smudge of something black on his jaw he looked good enough lick. The fact that his not-so-white-anymore T-shirt was molded to his broad chest and impressive abs definitely upped the sexy quotient. Uh huh, like he needed to look more sexy.

  He took the proffered lemonade and drained it in a series of nonstop gulps that drew Melanie’s attention to his strong, tanned throat. When he finished, he touched the cold mug to his forehead. “Thanks. I needed that.”

  “Want some more?”

  He shook his head. “Not now, thanks.”

  His proximity was having a strange effect on her stomach. Stepping away from him, she asked, “How’s it going?”

  “Good. I just finished changing the oil. I gave you a complete tune-up and your battery is hooked up to my recharger. All that’s left is changing the spark plugs.” He indicated the opened hood with a jerk of his head. “Wanna watch?”

  “Sure, but I have to warn you: I know diddly squat about cars.”

  “That’s okay. I know diddly squat about making dessert.”

  Melanie followed him to the front of the car then watched him open a package of what she assumed were spark plugs. She wasn’t sure what fascinated her more— the ease with which he selected foreign-looking items from his toolbox, or the way his muscles bunched and flexed while he worked. Whatever it was, she was soon thoroughly engrossed, and surprisingly curious.

  She leaned over the engine with him. “How do you know so much about cars?”

  “My dad and grandfather taught me. Grandpa was a mechanic.”

  She pointed. “What’s that little do-flickit?”

  “The air filter,” he said, screwing a spark plug into place.

  “How about that thingamabob there?”

  “The carburetor.”

  “I’ve heard of that. What’s it do?”

  “It vaporizes liquid fuel and controls its mixing with air for combustion in the engine.”

  “Uh-huh. And the English translation of that is… ?”

  “It makes the car go vroooomm.”

  “Ah.”

  She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. “Whew. It sure is hot out here.”

  Chris snuck a glance at her and nodded in mental agreement. Hot as hell. And every time he looked at her, in those cutoffs that showcased her longs, slim legs and curvy butt— which was currently hoisted in the air as she leaned over— it got a little hotter.

  Her skin was the color of warm honey, and his fingers itched to touch its soft smoothness. Her reddish-brown hair was a riotous cap of untamed curls that begged to be messed with. Her eyes reminded him of sweet, gooey, yummy chocolate, and her mouth … whoa! Those plump pink lips had carnal thoughts racing through his mind, making it nearly impossible to concentrate on what he was doing.

  Her finger bounced back and forth, pointing at this and that, asking what everything was. He answered all her questions, falling more and more in lust with each passing minute. His mind tried to convince his hormones that this was not the woman they were looking for— this woman was more than a one-nighter and represented a serious threat to his bachelor freedom— but his hormones were having none of it.

  This is the one we want, his hormones informed him. This one right here, who doesn’t know an oil filter from a brake pad. The one who smells like fresh-baked brownies and stares at you with those big chocolatey-brown eyes. Now do something about it before we get nasty.

  She pointed to something else, asking what it was. When he turned his head to explain the intricacies of the wiper-fluid dispenser, they bumped noses. Chris froze and stared into her startled eyes.

  She was so close. And she smelled so good. And looked so good. God, so good.

  Before she could back away, and before he could change his mind, he did what he’d wanted to do since almost the first moment he saw her. He angled his head and brushed his mouth over hers.

  He’d expected to feel a tingle, but he wasn’t prepared for the electric sizzle that crackled through him. All thoughts of spark plugs, do-flickits, and thingamabobs drained from his head. He reached for her, pulling them both upright. Their heads smacked into the raised hood at the same time.

  “Ouch!” Melanie yelped, leaning back and rubbing the top of her head. “Wow. I feel dizzy. I bet I have a concussion.”

  Chris wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her close, and ran gentle fingers over the small lump forming on her head. “Me, too.”

  She gazed up at him. “You think you have a concussion?”

  “No. I feel dizzy. And it has nothing to do with hitting my head.”

  “The heat getting to you?”

  His gaze settled on her mouth. “You could say that.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, my. You’re going to kiss me again.”

  “That okay?”

  “I’m not sure. The first one almost knocked me unconscious.”

  He lowered his head. “Yeah,” he breathed against her mouth. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  *

  MELANIE DECIDED THAT if their first kiss almost knocked her unconscious, their second kiss— which just sort of melted into their third, fourth, and fifth kisses— blew her flip flops right off the soles of her steaming feet

  He kissed her gently at first, an experimental tasting of lips. When he glided his mouth over hers more insistently, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight. Good thing, too, because a few seconds later he slid his tongue into her mouth and her knees fell off.

  She groaned and leaned into him, opening her mouth wider. She hadn’t been kissed in a long time. And boy, did he know how to kiss. In a way that made her want to drag him off to the nearest cave and have her wicked way with him. His bare legs brushed against hers ricocheting tingles to every nerve ending.

  His lips trailed a heated path down the side of her neck while his hands slid down to her butt and hauled her up tight against him. She plunged her fingers into his thick hair and pressed herself closer. Either he was in the habit of carrying a cucumber around in his pocket, or he was as shaken by their kiss as she was.

  She wasn’t sure how long they kissed— sorta hard to keep track of time when her insides were simultaneously melting and imploding— but he finally raised his head and ended the kiss. Darn him.

  With an effort she dragged her eyes open. And found him staring at her, looking as dazed as she felt. “Holy smokes,” she said when she could find her voice. “What was that?”

  “I think,” he said in a husky rasp that brought to mind satin sheets and hot sex, “that was spontaneous combustion.” He buried his face in her neck and breathed in. “God, you smell incredible. Like fresh-baked brownies and soap.”

  She gave a shaky laugh. “Yup. That’s one of my specialties. Soap brownies. You eat and wash up at the same time. It’s a real time-saver.”

  He touched his tongue to the side of her neck. “Sounds great.”

  “Glad you think so ‘cause I baked them just for you.”

  He lifted his head and she bit back a groan of protest at the sudden absence of his mouth against her skin. “Brownies? For me?” he asked.

  “Yes. For the cookout. You said to make something chocolate, and you look like the brownie type.”

  “What’s the brownie type?”

  The yummy, delicious, drool-inspiring, want-to-scarf-you-down in two bites and then go back for seconds type. “You’re a male. That makes you the brownie type.”

  He leaned forward and gently bit the sensitive skin behind her ear. Oh, yeah. That’s what I’m talkin’ about. “If they taste half as good as you do, I’ll be in heaven.”

  Yeah, heaven pretty much described the feel of him plastered against her. She inhaled a deep breath and trie
d to calm her frazzled, dazzled nerves, but it was hard to do with her hormones jumping up and down, giving each other high fives. “My toes feel like they’re being barbecued over a slow flame.”

  “I don’t even want to mention what part of my anatomy feels like it’s roasting over a flame.”

  “I have a pretty good idea. It’s kinda hard to miss, seeing how it’s poking me in the belly and all.” She knew she should step back, end this madness, but her feet refused to cooperate. Her feet were very happy right where they were. In fact, her whole body was perfectly content nestled against his.

  With obvious reluctance he stepped back and released her. Melanie settled a palm on the car to shore up her less than steady knees and hoped none of her neighbors had witnessed their make-out session. Or worse, videoed it. Just what she needed— to end up on You Tube.

  He cleared his throat then said, “I’m done with the car.”

  Car? What car? She managed to drag her gaze from him and saw her Dodge. Memory returned. Ah. That car. “Oh. Great.”

  “If you give me your key, I’ll try it out.”

  “Sure. I’ll go get it.” The instant she entered the house, she leaned against the wall, closed her eyes, and sucked in a long, deep breath. Holy smokes. That kiss had all but incinerated her. Her heart was still pounding and she doubted her nipples would ever unharden. She’d been absolutely right when she’d pegged this guy as dangerous. Dangerous to her state of mind. Jeez, she’d wanted to strip him bare right there in the driveway. Good thing he’d ended their kiss because her chances of doing so had melted away right along with her knees.

  Which, now that she thought about it, was pretty annoying. So he was a good kisser. All right, a great kisser. Okay fine, a fabulous kisser. Didn’t mean she had to lose her mind. She opened her eyes. It was no big deal. He’d just taken her by surprise, that’s all. She’d just been grateful for his help with her car. Yeah, that was all. Plus, given the fact that it had been so long since she’d been kissed, well, no wonder it had felt so good. So incredibly good her hormones informed her.