by Anne Oliver
His eyes slid to her mouth and back. She felt the impact flow through her blood and pool deep inside. Too late to withdraw her offer now. He blew gently on the spoon, dipped his thumb in the chocolate. ‘The cook first.’ And smeared it slowly over her bottom lip.
Oh. Good. Lord. Hot and sweet. Delicious. The texture and pressure of his thumb. His eyes alive with the same rich, dark…promise? But before she could melt into the contact and absorb the flavour of his skin, he lifted his thumb to his own mouth and sampled the residue. ‘Nice.’
She sucked in her chocolate-glossed lip, nodded. Did he mean the chocolate or her? She had a feeling if she tried to speak just then her words would come out garbled.
Her legs felt weak and she slumped back against the counter for support. He leaned forward. Oh, God. He was going to kiss her, she thought, her body swaying forward to meet him, her eyelids drifting to half-mast.
Her heart thumped in her chest. She was aware of her lips opening slightly, anticipating his, the sensation of his breath against her heated cheek. A moan quivered in her throat, her own breath stalled…
Then whooshed out as Adam poked his head around the door. ‘When it’s convenient, Luke. Some time before midnight would be appreciated.’ But his voice was light with humour.
Luke didn’t take his eyes off Melanie as he picked up the beer bottles and gave her a rueful half-smile. ‘Better take these in.’
‘Ah, Mel…’ Adam appeared again, his hand curled around the door jamb, a dare-you glint in his eyes. ‘Welcome-back drinks for Luke at the Park on Friday night. You coming?’
‘Oh…’
‘Marie and Sophie’ll be there.’
She felt Adam’s jab as keenly as if he’d prodded her with a hot fondue fork. Marie might be a friend but she was also a guy magnet. And Marie knew it. So did Adam.
Which was worse? Melanie wondered, looking into Luke’s eyes—watching Marie make a play for him or staying home and torturing herself by imagining it?
She’d be there. ‘I’ll try to make it.’
‘Mel, are you seeing anyone at present?’ Luke said when Adam had gone.
The question, casually asked, took her breath away. ‘Why do you ask?’
He shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. ‘Perhaps we should see if what we had still packs the same punch. Nothing serious, we both walk away…appeased, shall we say. At least it would erase the bad feeling we parted with last time.’ He walked to the door but turned back to her at the last moment, his eyes darkly intense. ‘Just clarifying one point however, I don’t share.’
Without waiting for an answer he left her standing alone in the kitchen.
Of all the… ‘Neither do I,’ she muttered, but didn’t know if he heard. Indignation flared inside her as she stirred.
His condition aside, though, in a way his suggestion made some sort of sense, she thought, pouring the sauce over the ice-cream. Rewriting the end, as Carissa had said.
She shook her head, unable to believe she was actually thinking of going to Luke’s welcome-back do. Even worse, considering his unexpected and dangerous suggestion that they see each other again. So much for not rushing into anything.
* * *
The following day in the Sydney Tower’s revolving restaurant with the city and harbour spread like jewels below, Luke and Adam talked over old times, swapping stories and discussing mutual acquaintances.
‘So how’s the pathologist’s love life?’ Luke said over his liqueur strawberries.
‘Alive and well.’ Adam grinned, scooping hazelnut mousse into his mouth.
‘Living with Mel doesn’t make it awkward?’ he asked, when what he really meant was, Have you and Mel ever hit the sheets?
Even though he knew Luke and Mel’s relationship was purely platonic now, the thought of his best friend and ex-lover together that way stirred up a volatile brew of jealousy and misplaced anger that he had no right to feel. Dammit.
But Adam was astute enough to read him. ‘No on both counts.’
Luke nodded, took a long draught of his beer. But his relief was only partial. He stared out at the ever-changing view of high rises, the inlets and bays with their flowing curves of blue as the restaurant turned. There was a world of guys out there. ‘So…does she date?’
‘Yeah, but not with the same guy more than a couple of times.’
A deep hole opened up in the pit of Luke’s stomach. Did that mean she went through men like a drill through sand?
‘And if you’re looking for anything more specific,’ Adam went on, ‘I can’t tell you. It would be betraying a confidence, and that part of her life is none of my business.’ He paused a beat, sucked on his spoon. ‘We dated too, a few times.’ A moment of silence followed, broken only by the hum of conversation around them and the clatter of cutlery on china. ‘But she didn’t let me past first base.’
Which meant…he’d tried. Luke had to force himself to block out the disturbing image.
‘Still, we got on well without the skin-to-skin thing,’ Adam continued. ‘I needed a flatmate, she wanted a place. I had no idea she and you…’
‘Does she ever talk about that time?’
Adam shook his head. ‘Closed book.’
‘She’s not into thrill sports—like skydiving or bungee jumping?’ He shrugged at Adam’s raised brows. ‘She was always into something involving speed and height and thrills.’
‘Which one were you?’ His grin sobered when Luke didn’t smile. Or answer. ‘Not that I know of,’ Adam said. ‘She spends time with her sister and puts in hours of voluntary work at the hospital. She has a close bond with the kids, especially the very young ones.’ Adam looked thoughtful. ‘She’s almost obsessive. I don’t know what drives that.’
‘Damned if I do either.’ Melanie had never been a baby person, whereas Luke loved kids. Thing was, he could see Melanie with a baby. His baby, with Melanie’s black hair and grey eyes. More disturbing, he could imagine getting her that way.
He shook it off, set his empty glass down. He didn’t want to dwell on something that wasn’t going to happen. He didn’t even know if she’d consider his suggestion that they get together again; he’d gone a little crazy when he’d tossed the idea out there, now he had to wait.
‘Enough about Melanie,’ he said. ‘I’ve found the accommodation, now I need someone to help me shop.’
He almost winced at the word. Thing was, he’d never had to shop. He’d always lived in furnished apartments, went online for anything else he needed, or purchased on impulse.
Adam rose, shrugged into his jacket. ‘Better get going, then. Furnishing an apartment from scratch could take a while. We’ll start with the basics and move on from there.’
A bed was the first item that came to mind—and why did that particular item have to come complete with an unsettling image of Melanie wearing nothing but a smile? Luke frowned, pulled out his wallet. ‘Let’s go.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
AT THE Park Tavern Melanie perched on the edge of her seat with her second glass of chardonnay. Sophie and Marie had joined her and Carissa a short time ago.
‘Bathroom,’ Carissa said, pushing up, and barely squeezing her pregnant belly past the table. ‘Do you know how many times I’ve emptied my bladder today?’
Melanie grinned. ‘Not a clue.’
Carissa shook her head. ‘Neither do I.’
Melanie watched her sister make her way towards the powder room, then her grin faded as her eyes veered towards the band and the tiny dance floor packed with couples. Usually Melanie loved dancing—anything from ballroom to jive to techno-funk. She’d even taken a belly dancing course.
Tonight wasn’t one of those nights.
Not when she knew Luke would turn up at any moment. To settle the butterflies in her stomach she took a healthy gulp or three of wine and let the sensation buzz through her veins while threads of conversation drifted around her.
‘Hey, Adam’s here with his mates,’ Sophie said su
ddenly, waving to a knot of guys entering the bar.
And from the sound of their laughter it would seem they’d been imbibing elsewhere well before they’d arrived. Melanie’s pulse accelerated. She didn’t turn. Couldn’t. She didn’t want to let her girlfriends see how Luke affected her.
But Marie, always first to eye off the talent, wouldn’t have noticed. She smiled. ‘Well, well, well! That must be the friend. Check out that body. Yum. And tall! I wonder if the face lives up to the rest of him.’
Despite her resistance, as if pulled by strings, Melanie’s head swivelled. She blinked as her eyes focused on the details. That tanned strip of neck between short dark hair and broad shoulders. The familiar blue jumper. The way his jeans hugged his firm backside.
Her body tightened, her palms sprang with damp. She held her breath as he almost disappeared from view amongst the group. All she could see was his hair and that sexy band of flesh.
‘He’s mine,’ Marie said, slipping out of her jacket to reveal a black see-through top and red lace bra. She rubbed her hands together and licked her red glossed lips. ‘I need another drink and I think I know how to get it.’
‘I reckon she does,’ Sophie said wistfully as Marie walked away with speedy purpose.
Something swift and hot plunged through Melanie as she watched Marie make a beeline towards the group. Towards Luke. Marie’s up-front approach had always amused Melanie.
She wasn’t amused now. She felt nauseous.
‘Don’t you want to…?’ Melanie heard Carissa’s voice trail off.
Or maybe she just stopped listening.
Marie tapped Adam on the arm. The group seemed to open up at the edge and swept her inside like some sort of hungry beast eager for a hot meal. Or a hot woman.
Someone laughed and she watched Luke’s profile, watched the way his cheek bunched—smiling. No doubt at something Marie said, because he dipped his head as if listening to someone shorter than him. Which included most of the patrons in the room, she reminded herself. Luke Delaney stood out in a crowd.
Barely a minute later Marie was hauling him off to the dance floor. Her heart thumping, Melanie gulped the rest of her wine, then reached for what was left of Marie’s discarded strawberry daiquiri. Well, of course he’d go with her. Who wouldn’t go for Marie’s classic beauty? Her sexy outfit that would only look cheap on Melanie, but stunning on Marie? And why couldn’t she drag her eyes away?
Suddenly his head turned, eyes scanning the room.
Then he saw her.
The force of his gaze arced across the room, hitting her right between the eyes and pinning her immobile to her chair.
His smile faded. She watched his mouth move. Was he speaking to someone in particular or the group in general? Then he started towards her.
Every muscle in her body locked. She held her breath as her heart jumped into her mouth. It was like watching a tsunami approach. All that power coming towards her in one testosterone-packed surge.
Marie said something and touched his arm but he didn’t give her so much as a glance. His eyes were fixed on Melanie. A man on a mission.
And that mission was her.
If Melanie had been standing she probably would have fallen—or fled.
He didn’t stop until he was an arm’s length away. Until she could see the pinpricks of stubble on his chin, the faint sheen of perspiration on his upper lip as he said, ‘Hi. You made it.’
There was a hint of something more in his tone, as if he was remembering the other night when he’d suggested that they explore what they’d had five years earlier.
Before he’d walked out of the kitchen without waiting for an answer.
Was he going to expect that answer tonight?
That thought jolted her out of the sensual thrall and she blinked as the tavern’s sounds and people around her came into focus again. She forced her lips into a smile. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t?’ She patted her sister’s shoulder. ‘You remember Carissa?’
‘Yes. Hi, Carissa, good to see you again,’ he said, stepping nearer, smelling of something spicy and cool, a startling counterpoint to the heat emanating from his skin.
‘Hello, Luke.’ Carissa’s blue eyes searched Melanie’s face, returned to Luke. ‘Mel told me you were back.’
Luke’s gaze met Melanie’s as if to say, What did you tell her?
Ignoring it, she introduced her friend. ‘And this is Sophie. Sophie Watson—Luke Delaney.’
‘Hi, Sophie.’
‘Hi.’ Sophie’s brow puckered in thought, then cleared. ‘Luke Delaney. You’re the guy who won the getaway. The one Melanie—’
‘So you two know each other.’ Marie sidled up beside Luke, giving Mel an eyebrow-lift that said, Why didn’t you tell me? ‘Why don’t you join us, Luke? I’m sure we can find another chair.’
Her red lacquered nails danced over Luke’s hand. The large tanned hand he’d laid on the table in front of Melanie. The one that had stroked across her bare flesh…
‘Thanks, that won’t be necessary.’ Luke curled his other hand around Melanie’s upper arm, pulling her gently but firmly to her feet. ‘Excuse us,’ he said to the group in general, his eyes locked on Melanie’s. He leaned down so his breath stirred the hair at her temples. ‘Let’s dance.’
She didn’t have time to look at Marie, or Carissa. A jitterbug was already doing a dance in her belly. It didn’t help that he kept that proprietary hand around her arm as he led her onto the dance space and into the throng of dancers.
It definitely didn’t help when the band chose a slow bluesy number as they got there.
She forgot the press of bodies as couples jostled for room. Her head spun with the wine she’d drunk and Luke’s proximity, her heart throbbed in her ears, frantically out of sync with the slow beat of the music.
She curled her fingers in front of her in an effort to control the space between them, but he propelled her closer with a subtle press against her spine.
Oh, help. Her pumpkin halter-neck top allowed ample exposed flesh for his hands as they shimmied over and down her bare back.
‘Your friend’s a threat to mankind,’ he murmured against her ear.
‘Is that why you were in such a hurry to dance with me? Are you a coward, Luke Delaney?’
‘I wanted an excuse to put my hands on you.’
Her pulse leapt at the intimate admission. Her own hands—where could she put her hands? On his waist, not round, just on. Barely. But she could still feel his body heat through his jumper, the hard muscle beneath.
He noticed her hands-off-the-merchandise thing. Smoothing her hair behind one ear, he leaned down. ‘Are you a coward, Mel?’ he said, echoing her own words over the mellow sound of the clarinet.
She felt his breath, the touch of his lips and the whiskey-edged voice against her earlobe and shivered as the sensation whispered over her skin and ribbon-danced through her body. But she leaned back so she could see his face, jerked her chin higher. ‘I’m dancing with you, aren’t I?’
He grinned, pulled her back against him and said, ‘How’s your week been?’
‘Busy.’ Slow. ‘How about you?’
‘Same. I’ve bought my own apartment. In Double Bay.’
‘Double Bay?’ One of the most exclusive suburbs in Sydney?
‘Can’t go wrong there—great views, close to the city. Outdoor entertaining area and spa.’ His voice deepened. ‘Huge master bedroom with a view of the harbour.’
‘I didn’t think you were staying that long…?’ Was he?
‘What gave you that idea?’ he said, expression inscrutable, but for a flicker of something behind his eyes.
‘Adam said…’ She trailed off. ‘Do you have a job here, then?’
‘Not yet.’ The coloured lights played over his face, a kaleidoscope of pink and green and gold, but his eyes dared her to dance another kind of rhythm, to take another kind of risk. ‘Put your arms around me properly.’
O…kay… Still watching him,
she drew in a slow breath and slid her arms around his back, watched his eyes darken and loved the fact that she could still turn him on. She felt his muscles tense as she walked her fingers up each vertebra. ‘Like this?’
‘Exactly,’ he murmured in that same rumbling voice.
Yes. Exactly. She gave up trying to pretend to herself that she could resist. Her nose brushed against his jumper. Right in that familiar little hollow below his breastbone. Where the air mingled with the scent of fabric softener and warm, masculine skin.
It seemed like for ever since they’d danced. And so familiar it seemed like yesterday. She settled in, turning her head so it rested against the hard pillow of muscle. The music faded into the background as his hands cruised down her spine, over her hips, increasing the pressure until her breasts were flat against his chest, her thighs pressed intimately to his.
Heat. Everywhere heat. From the top of her head where his cheek lay, to the soles of her five-inch-stiletto-clad feet.
It took a moment to register that the music hadn’t faded. It had stopped. And they were still clinched together on the dance floor knee to knee, breast to chest, while couples eddied past them as they made their way back to their tables.
She reared back, away from the soft feel of his jumper, the intimate way he was sliding his fingers over her nape beneath her hair.
The scorching intensity of his eyes as he trailed a fingertip across her brow and said, ‘You don’t have a headache, do you?’
‘Why?’
‘Because right now I want an excuse to take you away from here.’
Her blood turned to syrup and pounded through her body. It wasn’t her head that was aching. She wanted to say he didn’t need an excuse, until she remembered—‘Aren’t you the guest of honour here tonight?’
‘I’ll speak to Adam. We’ve been drinking since five, it’ll be okay. I’ll tell him something came up.’ His eyes sparked with devilish humour.
Melanie stifled a girlish giggle. That ‘something’ had been nudging her stomach for the past few moments. ‘I’m with Carrie, Luke. I can’t just leave her here.’
‘She’s not alone. I’m sure she won’t mind, or we can give her a lift home first. But we’ll check.’
