But she couldn’t. She didn’t dare. She had no regrets about last night, but it would be different now. He already had her heart, but if they made love again, he’d have her very soul. She’d never be able to leave him then.
And she had to leave, for his sake, as well as Kevin’s and her own.
“If he’s dead,” Gabe asked, “then who the hell are you running from?”
If she told him everything, her real name, about Louise Van Camp and Vincent Drake, she knew that there was no way Gabe would let it rest. He would want to take care of it for her. And she couldn’t let him do that, wouldn’t risk any harm coming to him.
“Don’t ask me that, Gabe,” she said softly. “It’s the one thing I can’t tell you. But I will tell you that Kevin and I need to start over. Just the two of us. It’s the only way we’ll ever be safe.”
His face hardened. “There’s always another way.”
She shook her head, felt her eyes start to droop as the adrenaline rush she’d been on began to wane. “I’ll be here for another week, until Kevin is better. Right now, let’s just take each day as it comes.”
She knew he wanted to argue, she saw it in the narrowing of his eyes and the tight press of his lips. But he wasn’t going to. Not now, at least, and even though she knew it was because of Kevin, she was extremely thankful for the reprieve.
He pushed away from the counter and moved toward her. “Come on—” he gently took hold of her shoulders and lifted her out of the chair “—let’s go upstairs.”
In spite of her exhaustion, she pulled away from him. “Gabe, I can’t—we can’t, I mean—”
He shook his head and sighed. “I mean all of us, Kevin and you and me. It was a long night, and a rough morning. We’re both too exhausted to think about anything but sleep right now. I just want to lay down and hold you.”
He pressed his mouth to her temple, and she closed her eyes at the soft touch of his lips on her skin. Her shoulders sagged in his hands.
“Okay?” he asked, then slid his finger over her cheek and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
How long had it been since someone—a man—had wanted to just hold her? Melanie wondered. Maybe never, she realized, and felt tears burn her eyes again, not certain if they were tears of joy or anguish.
Both, she decided as she gazed up at him and whispered, “Okay.”
The painters finished the exterior of the Witherspoon house on Monday, cleaned up and were gone by Tuesday, and by Wednesday afternoon a crew of landscapers had mowed and edged the lawn, pruned all the shrubs and replanted the front and back flower beds with warm fall colors.
The place looked good, Gabe thought as he walked the perimeter of the house. Damn good, in fact, if he did say so himself. There was still work to do inside; paint the walls and refinish the wood floors. But those things, plus the other odds and ends repairs that he needed to do, would have to wait until after the auction on Saturday. Most of the contents would be sold then, and whatever was left and couldn’t be used at the center would be boxed and carted away.
And then the house would be empty.
He dragged a hand over his face and frowned darkly.
Gabe had kept a careful distance from Melanie these past few days. He was afraid that even the slightest, most innocent touch might push him over the edge, and he’d lose control. Take her to the closest bed and make love to her the way he desperately wanted to.
Of course, a child in the house seriously forestalled any action that Gabe might have wanted to take in that department, not to mention workmen all over the place. But he could have come back at night, late, when it was quiet, when Kevin was sleeping. He could have come to her then, kissed her until she trembled in his arms the way she had before.
But he hadn’t. He’d gone to the tavern every night instead. Shared a beer with Reese and Lucian, watched a couple of games, argued over who would go to the World Series and who was better looking, Lucian or Reese. The same old nonsense he’d enjoyed his entire life. Only it felt different now.
It felt…hollow. Flat.
For the first time in his life he wanted more. He wasn’t certain what “more” was, but he knew it involved Melanie and Kevin.
She might think that he had accepted her leaving, that after she’d explained her asinine, controlling husband and his family that he would understand her need to break all ties with that life and be completely independent now.
But she was wrong. He most certainly hadn’t given up. And though he knew there was more she wasn’t telling him, he hadn’t pushed that issue, either. He’d find out soon enough. It was taking a little longer than he’d expected, but armed with what little information they had, Ian would have a file on Melanie before the week was over.
Gabe stopped, hands on his hips and looked out over the cornfields behind the house. The sky was deep blue overhead, the air warm, heavy with the scent of fall. The leaves would be changing soon, and the landscape would be a riot of reds and golds and oranges. He wanted Melanie and Kevin to see that, to share that amazing sight with him. But if he couldn’t change Melanie’s mind, if he couldn’t persuade her to stay in Bloomfield, then he’d be watching those leaves all by himself.
The thought made his chest tighten.
“What’cha looking at?”
Gabe turned at the sound of Kevin’s voice. Dressed in jeans and tennis shoes and his Batman T-shirt, he stood on the back porch, a baseball in one hand, a mitt in the other—a get-well gift that Gabe had brought him. Actually one of several presents he’d brought him, in spite of Melanie’s protests. Two hours in the toy section at the department store—hey, a guy had to play a little, didn’t he?—and three big bags later, he’d shown up at the house. Melanie had insisted he take everything back except for one storybook, then quietly told him that she didn’t have room for everything in her car. It was all he could do not to shake her and tell her she wasn’t going anywhere.
But to shake her would mean he’d have to touch her, and if he touched her, he’d have to kiss her, and if he kissed her, then he’d have to—
Well, hell. He didn’t want to have thoughts like that while her son was staring so innocently at him.
But the bottom line was, Gabe had taken the toys with him that night, and had been bringing them back, one or two presents each day. He knew that Melanie wanted to strangle him, he just didn’t care. The pleasure on Kevin’s face every day was worth it.
Gabe smiled at the boy. “I’m just looking at the cornstalks. How you doin’, partner?”
“I’m all better, but I still have to take that yucky pink medicine. My mom says I’m not supposed to bother you.”
“You’re not bothering me.” It’s your mother who bothers me, who I can’t stop thinking about. “I’m done working for the day.”
“My mom’s not.” Kevin tossed the ball up, tried to catch it, then scrambled after it when it dropped. “She found a boxful of old stuff in the basement and got all excited about it. She’s been typing at her computer ever since and talking to herself. Why are you looking at a bunch of corn?”
“Just remembering when I was a kid.” Gabe walked over, scooped Kevin up in his arms and walked to the edge of the field. The scent of ripe corn and damp earth filled the warm air. “My brothers and I used to play hide-and-seek in cornfields. Sometimes we’d each build a fort and play soldier. We’d fight each other, then bomb the forts with dirt clods.”
Kevin’s eyes opened wide. “My mom says I’m not allowed to fight or throw things. She says someone could get hurt.”
Oops. Gabe hadn’t quite gotten used to what he could or couldn’t say in front of kids. Mothers didn’t like their kids throwing dirt clods. Dads, of course, understood completely.
“Your mom’s right. We just did it once,” he lied, then told a partial truth. “Callan got hit in the head with a big one, and there was blood all over the place. My mom found out, we got in big trouble and she grounded us all for a year.”
“A whol
e year!”
“Something like that,” Gabe said. He thought it was actually a weekend. “We were just little kids, so we had to learn you shouldn’t do that.”
Kevin stared hard at Gabe. “Were you ever little, like me?”
“Sure I was. And my brothers were, too.”
Kevin stared at the cornfields. “I want to be big like you. I’d make him go away and not hurt my mommy.”
Gabe went still, then very slowly, very carefully, said, “Who would you make go away?”
“That bad man. He’s mean and ugly, and I hate him.”
Kevin’s eyes narrowed sharply, and it twisted Gabe’s gut to see a child possess such intense anger.
“How did he hurt your mommy?” Gabe asked gently, afraid of Kevin’s answer, but desperately needing to know.
“He held her arms and pushed her, and he made her cry.”
The image of this faceless coward touching Melanie and scaring Kevin made Gabe’s heart stop. Never in his life had he felt such sheer, raw anger at another person. The desire to lash out overwhelmed him, but instead he reminded himself to breathe, to stay calm, to focus on Kevin.
“Do you know his name?” Gabe asked, knowing that Melanie would be furious at him for prying information out of her son. At the moment, he just didn’t give a damn. He had to be certain, he needed to know that this wasn’t something that had happened between Melanie and Kevin’s father.
“Vincent,” Kevin said fiercely. “His name is Vincent, and if he hurts my mommy again I’m going to kick him hard.”
Vincent. It was a name, at least. Something to direct his rage at later, when he was alone.
But who the hell was he? And why was he after Melanie and Kevin?
Gabe slowly set Kevin down on the ground. “If he ever hurts you or your mommy, you kick him as hard as you can. Do you think you can remember if I show you how?”
Kevin looked up at Gabe, pressed his lips tightly together, then straightened his little body and nodded tightly. Once again Gabe felt a surge of emotion rip through his body. He swore that no one was ever going to hurt this child or his mother again.
“All right,” Gabe said, and pointed toward his foot. “This is what you do….”
Chapter 10
Saturday dawned with the crisp, cool bite of autumn, but clear blue skies promised heat in the afternoon. The air was still, heavy with the tangy scent of maples and freshly turned earth, and the cheerful morning song of sparrows in a nearby oak tree greeted the truckloads of busy workers scattered across Mildred Witherspoon’s front yard.
Melanie stood at the upstairs bedroom window, half listening to the sounds of her son playing with his action characters in the next room, while she watched all the activity below. Several men and women—most of them volunteers from the center—scurried around as they set up a large, puffy white tent and plastic folding chairs, while several others began assembling the items to be auctioned behind a tall podium.
Excitement shivered up her spine.
She’d always loved the day of an auction: the crew setting up, the anticipation in the air, the competition between anxious buyers. They’d be coming soon; their sleek, fancy cars and glossy limousines would drive up the long, gravel driveway like thirsty cattle heading for the water hole. She leaned closer to the window, wishing desperately she could be a part of everything.
Simon Grill had arrived a little while ago, handsome as always in his tailored, steel-gray Armani suit, glossy black Ferragamo shoes and trademark red silk pocket scarf. His thick black hair, peppered with gray, was brushed back from his elegant face and piercing blue eyes. How she ached to run out and throw herself into his arms, to breathe in the scent of his familiar two-hundred-dollar-an-ounce cologne. He was a large man, tall and muscular, in his late thirties, an Ivy League sophisticate with a dry wit who openly disdained the wealthy, and bullied them into opening their pocketbooks with his blatant reproach. He’d fallen into auctioneering as a hobby and found he was good at it, better than good. Simon Grill was the best.
Not only as an auctioneer, Melanie thought as she watched him lovingly stroke a Duncan Phyfe writing desk with one large, manicured hand, but as a friend. He’d known about her trouble with Phillip, then Louise. He’d even offered to help, but she hadn’t wanted to involve him. Simon’s family had been longtime friends of the Van Camps, and it would have caused problems for him. And then after what had happened to Paul, and realizing what Vincent would do to anyone who helped her, Melanie had thought it best to just distance herself from everyone in the business. She couldn’t bear to see anyone else hurt because of her.
She watched Simon as he moved from item to item, checking his list, making notes, then carefully examining each piece. He knew his antiques, and Melanie knew that with the dealers and collectors they had coming today, and the remarkable items up for sale, there would be a whirlwind of bidding.
With a sigh, she turned her attention to the other man she’d been watching this morning. The man who occupied her mind not only every waking minute, but her dreams, as well.
Gabe stood in the back of his pickup, handing folding chairs down to Callan and Reese. He wore dress jeans today, shiny black cowboy boots and a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. She drank in the sight of him, watched the ripple of sinew and muscle across his arms and shoulders as he swung chairs over the side of his truck. Her gaze drifted down his lean hips and long legs, and she remembered the feel of those powerful, strong legs against her own.
Her skin suddenly felt hot and tight, her breasts ached.
With his truck unloaded, he jumped easily over the side, and when he hit the ground, a shock of thick, dark hair fell onto his temple. The need to comb her fingers through those wayward strands overwhelmed her.
She wanted to go to him, to slip her arms around him and pull him close, to press her body and lips to his and tell him that she loved him.
Gabriel Sinclair had completely stolen her heart. Longing consumed her, and she desperately wished that things could be different, that she could stay here with him.
Wondered, in moments of insanity, if maybe she could.
He’d kept his distance from her this past week, and she knew he was waiting for her to come to him. How she’d wanted to. It had taken every last ounce of willpower not to reach out and touch him, to slip into the warmth and strength of his arms, to hold him in the dark of night, when all was quiet and the demons that plagued her were at their loudest.
Before she’d come here, she was so certain what it was that she needed to do. But what had been so crystal clear to her before had now become cloudy. She was confused, and worse, she had doubts. The absolute had become questionable.
She’d been so careful, left everything behind her and severed all ties, meticulously covered her tracks all the way across the country. The only person she’d been in touch with at all had been Raina, and now even Raina didn’t know where she was or where she was going.
She didn’t know where she was going. With Vincent watching for her in Boston, she certainly couldn’t go there now.
She knew she was going to have to settle somewhere in the next few months. Did she dare stop so soon? Bloomfield County was a small town, exactly the type of place she would have chosen to live. She could find a job close by, something inconspicuous.
And Gabe was here. The ache in Melanie’s chest tightened. He was both a blessing and a curse. She’d already fallen in love with him, and she knew Kevin was crazy about him, too. But she knew if they stayed, that Gabe would want to take care of them. She couldn’t allow herself to become dependent on anyone. She might let her guard down, become too relaxed. All she had to do was make one mistake, one small error, and Louise would find them.
Vincent would find them.
She squeezed her eyes shut. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t stay here. Wishful thinking, that’s all this was. Foolish thinking.
Her breath caught as she watched Gabe approach Simon. Gab
e knew that she had worked with the auctioneer, that they’d been friends. She’d made it clear from the beginning that no one could know she was here—especially Simon—and now she worried if Gabe would respect her need for anonymity. It didn’t matter that Simon didn’t know her as Melanie Hart, a few questions from Gabe about a woman and her young son named Kevin and Simon would know instantly.
Her fingers curled tightly around the lace curtain as Gabe shook Simon’s hand.
As she watched the men speak, she relaxed her grip on the curtains and slowly released the breath she’d been holding. Gabe wouldn’t say anything. She knew he wouldn’t. The man might drive her crazy, but she was certain he wouldn’t expose her or Kevin to danger.
“Melanie! Where are you? Is this just too wonderful!”
Melanie turned at Cara’s cheerful greeting and watched as she flounced into the bedroom, carrying a brown leather suitcase.
“They’re already waiting to come in, and we won’t even be open for an hour.” Cara was flushed the same rosy color as the silk blouse she wore under her crisp navy suit. Excitement glowed from her face. “Ian and Lucian are standing guard down at the front gates to keep everyone out until we’re ready.”
“I hope they’re heavily armed,” Melanie said with a smile. “You never know when these crowds can turn ugly.”
Melanie’s smile faded slightly when another woman, a petite platinum blonde with short spiked hair and huge violet eyes, followed Cara into the room. The woman’s black skirt was long and snug, her spandex long-sleeved top cut high to expose a flat midriff. She was also carrying a suitcase.
“Melanie, this is Ivy.” Cara set her suitcase down. “Ivy, Melanie.”
“Hey,” Ivy said, the single word heavy with a New York Italian accent. She set her suitcase down, as well.
Melanie nodded politely. Both Cara and Ivy moved closer. “So what do you think?” Cara asked.
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