Shaking his head, he glanced down at the socks on his feet, then remembered he’d left his muddy boots on the porch when he’d come in from the storm last night and found the power had gone out. He also realized his shirt was still unbuttoned. The memory of Melanie’s soft hands on his chest, her fingertips sliding over his skin, made his jaw tighten.
He narrowed a glance at the kitchen door. Forget about last night?
Right.
Buttoning his shirt, he headed for the kitchen, found Melanie at the counter, cracking eggs into a clear glass bowl. Butter sizzled in a frying pan on the stove, and he heard the sound of running water coming from the downstairs bathroom. Kevin was singing a tune from that kid’s show about purple dinosaurs.
“Morning.”
She turned at his gravelly greeting, and based on the rise of color on her cheeks, it appeared she hadn’t forgotten about last night, either. Small satisfaction, but right now, he’d take whatever he could get.
“Morning.” She glanced quickly away. “Coffee’s ready.”
A large black mug sat beside the coffeepot, and he helped himself to a cup, then leaned against the counter, watching her. She must have showered already, he thought, taking in the damp ends of her shiny, dark hair that fell in soft waves around the collar of her deep blue blouse. His gaze skimmed down her back to where her black jeans hugged the curve of her bottom and long slender legs.
He’d seen a great deal of that curvy body last night under her robe, touched her smooth, silky skin and full breasts. He felt a sharp twist in his gut.
She was right. He did need to forget.
“I fell asleep on the sofa.” He’d be damned if he’d apologize for it, either.
She merely nodded, dumped the eggs into the frying pan, where they bubbled and popped. “Not the most comfortable night you’ve spent, I’m sure.”
No, he thought, but that had nothing to do with the sofa. He shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”
She arched one brow, reached for a pepper shaker. “Oh?”
“The bench in Reese’s tavern after an all-night celebration of my brother Callan and Abby’s marriage was hardly a night at the Ritz,” he said, still not quite sure how he’d ended up twisted on that booth seat. But it had been a great party, that much he remembered. He smiled at the memory. “That was three months ago, and I’ve still got a kink in my knee.”
Melanie smiled, and Gabe tried not to think about what her soft mouth had felt like against his last night.
“Then there was the all-nighter in Lucian’s sports car,” he continued. “A seven-year-old would have been cramped in that little two-seater, let alone two six-foot-four men.”
She looked at him, questioning.
“We were taking turns sleeping and watching Cara’s apartment in Philly,” he explained. “She’d been a private investigator at the time, and there’d been a couple of attempts on her life. We just wanted to make sure we were around if there were any more.”
Her eyes widened with surprise. “Someone wanted to kill Cara?”
He nodded. “Turned out to be Ian’s cousin, but that’s another story for another time. How about you?” He took a sip of hot coffee, leveled his gaze at her and carefully asked, “You ever slept in a car?”
His question wasn’t subtle, nor had he intended it to be. She stilled, then reached for the spatula on the stove and flipped the eggs.
“Melanie.” He moved closer, tightened his hand around the mug in his hand. “I’m sorry, but I need to know.”
She looked up at him, and he saw the wariness in her gray eyes. If a man wasn’t careful, he could lose himself in those eyes. He had to remind himself to be careful. Very careful.
“Why?” she asked softly. “Why do you need to know anything about me and my son? Why does it matter to you?”
“It beats the hell out of me,” he said honestly, then reached up and touched her jaw with his fingertips. She stiffened, but didn’t pull away. “I just do, and it just does.”
He felt the warm breath of her sigh on his hand, tried to ignore the bullet of desire that shot straight through his body.
“Kevin and I haven’t been sleeping in the car, nor have we missed any meals,” she said quietly, then smiled as she eased away from him. “We’re fine, Gabe. Really we are.”
“Like hell you are,” he said, but without accusation. “You’ve got a problem, lady. And pretending it doesn’t exist won’t make it go away.”
“No one knows better than I do what exists and doesn’t exist in my life. But I believe that’s my concern, not yours.” She picked up a plate on the stove, scooped the cooked eggs onto it. “Breakfast is just about ready, and I’m sure you’d like to use the bathroom and wash up.”
“Melanie—”
“And since it was you who created the monster,” she said lightly as she turned toward the kitchen table, “why don’t you go in there and see if you can drag Kevin away from washing his hands. He’s been at it for the past ten minutes and—”
“Something sure smells good,” a deep, male voice said from the back door. “Hope you’ve got extra.”
With a squeak, Melanie whirled at the sound of the man’s voice. The plate in her hand fell to the floor and shattered.
Lucian looked down at the mess and winced. “Guess not.”
“Dammit, Lucian, do you have to sneak up on people like that?” Gabe snapped.
“I knocked on the front door and there was no answer, so I came around the back.” Lucian’s gaze swung back to Melanie, and his smile was contrite. “Sorry I scared you.”
He’d done more than scare her, Gabe thought. He’d terrified her. Her face had gone pale, and her eyes were wide with fear. What the hell was going on with this woman?
Someone was after her. He felt it in his gut. Someone who wanted to hurt her. Why else would she act this way?
His jaw tightened at the thought. He couldn’t ask, not now. She’d back away for sure, maybe even run if he pushed.
But he’d find out. One way or another, by God, he’d find out.
Melanie blinked then, and a bright pink rushed in to color her white cheeks. “No, I—I’m sorry,” she stammered. “You just startled me, that’s all.”
She bent toward the floor at the same time Gabe did, and their knees bumped. She steadied herself with a hand on his thigh, then quickly pulled her fingers away and gathered the larger pieces of broken plate.
“You must be Melanie.” Lucian grabbed a roll of paper towels from the counter and picked his way through the jagged pieces of plate and smooshed egg. “Gabe told us that you and your son are staying here.”
“Just for a few days,” she said carefully, “while I catalog the contents of the house.”
“We’ll take care of this.” Gabe took the broken pieces of plate from her hand, ignored the burning sensation left by her touch on his thigh only a moment ago.
She hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll get some more eggs started while the pan’s still hot.” Melanie stood, then looked at Lucian and smiled. “Over easy all right with you?”
Much to Gabe’s annoyance, Lucian grinned. “Any way they turn out is just fine by me.”
“Was there something you wanted, Lucian?” Gabe wrapped the bulk of the mess in several paper towels, then dumped the lumpy bundle in Lucian’s hands. “Besides a meal?”
Lucian’s grin widened. “The painting crew will be here in an hour. Just thought I’d double-check the supply list you gave me last night.”
Gabe frowned at his brother. He knew exactly why Lucian had come over here. It had nothing to do with supply lists or painting crews and everything to do with a certain dark-haired mystery woman. Last night, at the tavern, Gabe had casually mentioned Melanie and Kevin to his brothers. They would have found out soon enough anyway, and it would have looked strange if he hadn’t told them that the woman and her son were staying here for a while.
But what was strange to Gabe was that he hadn’t wanted to tell his brothers about he
r. He hadn’t wanted them coming around the house. Which was ridiculous, of course, Gabe knew. Even though he was in charge of the Witherspoon project, both Callan and Lucian would be involved from time to time. And Reese would be by just because he was nosy. The idea of a single woman in town whom he hadn’t put the make on yet would be too much of a challenge to resist.
But ridiculous or not, it didn’t seem to matter. He still didn’t like it.
And he sure as hell didn’t like the look in Lucian’s eyes at the moment. Gabe had seen that same look zero in on more than one unsuspecting female. It just had never bothered him before. He’d never taken it…personally before.
“Hey, bro.” Brows raised, Lucian glanced down at the socks on Gabe’s feet. “Better watch where you step.”
Gabe narrowed a look at his brother. “I was just going to say the same to you, Luc.”
Lucian’s grin split his face. “I’ll finish up here while you go wash up. I’ve got a comb and razor in the truck if you need them. You look a little…rumpled this morning.”
From his wrinkled clothes, messed hair and morning beard, there was no doubt that Lucian had figured out he’d spent the night here. Gabe would straighten his brother out about that later. He sure as hell didn’t want Lucian or anyone else thinking that he’d slept anywhere but the sofa.
He glanced at Melanie who was busy cracking eggs into a bowl. Leaving her alone with Lucian was like leaving a lamb with a wolf. He sent his brother another look of warning, but Lucian just kept grinning like a damn fool.
He would strangle him later, Gabe decided and followed the sound of Barney’s theme song coming from the bathroom.
Melanie stared out the front window, watching Gabe and Lucian talk beside the black pickup parked in the front driveway. Lucian was smiling about something, but Gabe seemed irritated, kept shaking his head and frowning darkly.
Good heavens, but they were two stunning examples of masculinity. She couldn’t help but wonder about the other two brothers, Reese and Callan, if they were as handsome as Lucian and Gabe. She was surprised that only one Sinclair male—Callan—had been snagged into the web of matrimony. No doubt it wasn’t due to lack of effort on the part of Bloomfield County females, Melanie thought. She imagined that the women here had to take a ticket just to get in line for a chance with one of the Sinclair males.
She still couldn’t believe that she’d reacted the way she had when Lucian had walked into the kitchen and caught her off guard. He must think her a complete idiot, squeaking like she had and dropping that plate. But she’d thought, for one heart-stopping, horrifying moment, that he was Vincent.
Not that Lucian looked anything like Vincent. Vincent was shorter than Lucian, his hair longer and always worn slicked back, like black patent leather. Vincent’s skin was also darker and more coarse. But her nerves were shot. She was on edge, not only from the storm last night, but also because of what had happened between her and Gabe.
No one had ever kissed her like that before.
And she had never kissed anyone back like that, either.
It had taken her a long time to fall asleep after she’d gone back to bed, long after the thunder and lightning had stopped, long after the rain had ceased. She’d felt as if the storm had moved into her body, rolling and crashing around, pounding away at her insides.
Making her want things she couldn’t have.
Lying there in the darkness, she’d known Gabe was downstairs, that all she had to do was go to him and he would ease the ache inside her. If only for a little while, he could make her forget.
How easy that would have been. To make love with a stranger, to know that there would be no involvement beyond the physical. There would be nothing beyond the need. Nothing but pleasure.
But she wasn’t that naïve. She understood at some very primitive level there was more than simple lust between her and Gabe. There was some strange connection. And that was what had stopped her. Because she couldn’t allow that, couldn’t allow herself to feel that way about him or any other man. Not now, maybe not ever.
“Mommy.” Kevin tugged at her leg. “Can I play with Batman now?”
Turning away from the window, she scooped her son up in her arms and squeezed him until he laughed. “Of course you can, sweetheart. But you have to give me a kiss first.”
He rolled his eyes, then wrapped his short little arms around her neck, puckered up and gave her a big smack on her lips. “Now can I play?”
She hugged him again, then set him down, and he ran upstairs to the bedroom where he’d built a pretend Gotham City with his action figures and Batmobile.
He’d been quiet during breakfast, his blue eyes darting back and forth from Gabe to Lucian as they’d talked about the ball game last night and the painting crew, but he hadn’t seemed frightened. Since that incident four months ago, when Kevin had seen Vincent back her against the door in her apartment in Northern California, then “strongly encourage” her to move back into Louise’s house in Beverly Hills, Kevin had seemed to be afraid of men.
Until they’d come here. Kevin wasn’t afraid of Gabe or Ian, and he seemed fine with Lucian, too. In just the few days they’d been here, her son was much more like the happy, rambunctious little boy he’d been before Louise had forced her way into their lives and turned everything upside down.
At the sound of trucks pulling up in the front driveway, Melanie felt a knot tighten in her stomach. When she moved back to the window, she saw Gabe approach two pickups loaded with ladders and tarps and paint. If she was going to stay here, she knew she was going to have to get used to strangers coming and going.
She watched Gabe as he pointed at the house and gave directions to three men. Slowly the knot in her stomach eased. Somehow, knowing that Gabe would be here, she felt safer, that she and Kevin would be fine.
Just a few days, she told herself. A week or two at the most. Then she’d have to move on. With Vincent looking for her, staying in one place too long might be dangerous. Because he’d find her. She was certain of that. Vincent was not the kind of man to give up.
But she wouldn’t think about Vincent now. Wouldn’t think about where he was or what he was doing. Or what he would do if he found her. It would make her crazy if she did.
And besides, she thought, turning away from the window and moving back into the living room, she had a job to do here. A big job.
Mildred Witherspoon’s house was approximately four thousand square feet, not including the attic space or basement. Six bedrooms upstairs, two full bathrooms—a large one upstairs, a small one downstairs—kitchen, dining room, living room and parlor. Every room seemed to be packed with a lifetime of “stuff.”
An opportunity to explore a house like this was a dream come true for any antique dealer. She felt like a child on Christmas morning, surrounded by a mountain of brightly wrapped presents.
Palms itching, she pulled the slipcover off the sofa in front of the fireplace. Standard 1940s design, a deep burgundy flossed fabric. Still in remarkable shape, but nothing to get excited about.
Until she remembered last night, lying on this very sofa in Gabe’s arms. Kissing him. Him kissing her, his hands on her skin. On her breasts. The memory made her pulse speed up.
She sat on the edge of the sofa and ran her fingers over the coarse texture of the fabric, felt the hard lumps in the cushions. When she’d come down the stairs this morning and found him asleep out here, his long, powerful legs draped over one end, his strong, muscular arms hanging from the other, she’d felt a twist in her stomach. He hadn’t looked nearly so serious in his sleep. If anything, he’d looked calm, younger somehow, and she’d had an urge to brush his hair off his forehead as she would do to Kevin.
But she hadn’t, of course. Even the slightest touch would be a dangerous thing. Just this morning, when she’d accidentally brushed her hand against his hard, muscled thigh, she’d felt her pulse skip. Her fingers still felt warm from the heat his skin had radiated through his jeans.
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br /> The front door opened, and he walked in. His gaze met hers, dropped to the sofa, then slowly lifted again. She knew he was thinking about last night, the same as she was. She felt the heat of her blush on her cheeks.
“The painters will be here for a few days,” he said evenly, holding her gaze with his. “They’ll be outside, but they may need to use the bathroom or speak to me occasionally.”
“If I’m in the way, you can—”
Frowning, he shook his head. “You won’t be. I just didn’t want you to be—” he hesitated “—surprised.”
He meant scared, she thought, disgusted with herself that she’d acted like such a frightened little mouse this morning when Lucian had unexpectedly walked in. Gabe was probably afraid she’d be breaking things every time she turned around.
Lifting her chin, she held her eyes steady with his. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“I’ll be working in the upstairs bathroom. If you need anything, just let me know.”
“Thanks.”
With a nod, he moved up the stairs. She watched him until he moved out of sight, then she glanced back down at the sofa.
If you need anything, just let me know.
A shiver ran through her at his words.
If only she could.
With a sigh, she turned her attention to the job at hand and got to work.
The bathtub plumbing proved to be as difficult as the sink. Gabe remembered to keep his language in check, but it took him over an hour to replace the corroded steel pipe with new copper fittings, then another hour just to remove the rusted fixtures. It probably would have taken him less time if Kevin hadn’t popped in a couple of times, once just to see what all the pounding was about, and once to show him the neat missile launcher on his toy Batmobile. With the press of a button, the sponge missile shot six feet up in the air.
And straight down into the open drain of the bathtub.
Fortunately a two-foot-long spring-loaded hose with a claw at the end saved the day, and Gabe became an instant hero in Kevin’s eyes.
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