Need You Now (Love in Unknown)

chapter 7





Caine took a long swig of beer. Days like today merited a beer or two for the busy mayor of Unknown. Not only had a water main broken near the elementary school, but the preservation society had gotten it in their heads to hound him about an old building downtown being converted into a town museum. A museum? The town needed a museum about a much as he needed the migraine that had started to pound his brain before he could get the first beer in his system.

Sprawled on his comfortable leather couch, he had all of the lights out and the Rangers game on the plasma TV. He just wanted to wallow here in the comfy hole he’d worn in the middle cushion. At the top of the eighth, he looked at the clock. Jesus, it was already well after eleven. Stupid West Coast games. They always messed with his time perception. Looking at his phone, he saw no missed calls or texts. Hell. He should have heard from Mel by now.

Punching her number on the touch screen, he took another drag on his beer while he waited. After five rings, she picked up. “Yes?”

“Hey you. Get back from your date okay?”

Her voice sounded clipped when she finally responded. “Oh yeah. I just walked in a few minutes ago. It was great. Just super.”

Warning bells started going off in his head. “Is he still there? If I’m interrupting—“

“You’re not interrupting anything. I wouldn’t have picked up otherwise.” The edge in her voice had him getting to his feet.

“Everything okay at the apartment?” He walked to the kitchen, searching for the keys to his truck.

He heard a derisive snort. “God, you’ve turned into a little old woman. I’m fine, Caine. There’s not boogeyman waiting outside or under my bed or in my closet. Good night.”

Driving through the dark, empty streets, Caine made it from his house on the edge of town to Mel’s apartment in seven minutes flat. He pulled in behind her car, relieved that nothing appeared out of the ordinary. The new paint job covered up the damage, but it didn't erase the memory. Spurred by residual anger and fear from his last visit here, he took the steps two at a time.

He barely had time to pound on the door once before Mel pulled it open. She wore floaty pajama shorts and a camisole, her hair still in loose curls from her date. Even in the pale porch light, he saw that her eyes were glassy. She slouched against the door in a pose that sent one silky strap off her shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he lied. “Just thought I’d see for myself that you were all right.” He pushed his way inside, pulling her with him. Standing on her doorstep spelled nothing but trouble. He knew she’d use it against him if she ended up on Merna’s Matches because of him, linked to him. Gossip about dating in Unknown was bad enough; anything remotely romantic in Caine’s life was more heavily scrutinized than an a-list celebrity’s. All it took was for one busybody to be out late and they’d never hear the end of it. Although being in her apartment might not be much better.

She leaned against the door, one foot braced on it, accentuating the sleek curve of her thigh as her shorts rode up. She let out a resigned sigh, shoulder sagging a little. “I’m fine. Just another night where a guy didn’t live up to my expectations. Except you, of course. You never fail to do exactly what I think you will.”

“You knew I would come over here tonight?” He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Okay, you were right. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I worry about you, Mel. You sounded off on the phone and with everything that’s going on, I needed to see for myself that you’re all right.”

“I’m fine. Really. Just a rough night.” Reaching out, she grabbed his hand to pull him closer.

He moved in, his thigh bracketed by both of hers. This close to her, the faint odor of alcohol was undeniable, mixing in the scent of wildflowers and antiseptic, the perfume that was uniquely hers. “So you came home and got tipsy?”

A wry laugh escaped her sardonic mouth. “Well, I got a head start at dinner.”

“Really.” Being this close to her played hell with his ability to concentrate. Attempting to take control of the situation, he tugged on her hand now, pulling her toward the living room. “You were out with Kevin again, weren’t you? I thought you liked him. He sounded nice in a stuffy, lawyer sort of way.”

Mel snorted, flopping onto her back on the couch. “Says the Harvard Law grad who moonlights as town mayor. Kevin was nice, but he’s just so boring. I tried to get him to talk about books, but he just looked at me like I was an idiot. Who doesn’t know enough about books to at least make small talk? When I asked if he’d read Lord of the Rings or A Song of Ice and Fire, you would have thought I was speaking elvish. Apparently, girls who go to whatever third rate school he went to didn’t read fantasy novels.”

“You came home and got drunk because he didn’t agree with your taste in books?” Caine knew she was too rational for that to be the real reason. Mel always did things for a reason. The reason might not make sense to him or anyone else, but it would to her. Still, which alcohol added into the mix, all of his senses were on alert.

She might have actually growled at his question. He wasn’t sure. “No! Of course not. That’s just a symptom of the problem. And it’s the same problem every other guy I’ve ever dated ended up having.”

“Even me?” He sat down, drawing her bare feet into his lap. He loved how, even though she hated frilly, girly things, her toes were always perfectly polished.

“Not you. Because you are the problem, Caine Maddox. You and your perfectly perfect charm and dreamy, stormy blue eyes and adorable smile and gorgeous hair. You've been the problem since my brother brought you home after school when y'all were six." She covered her eyes with her forearm and groaned. "Did I really just say that?"

He reached out and took her hand in his again, forcing her to meet his steady gaze. The hair on the back of his neck stood up a little. Something wasn’t quite right. She wouldn’t have said that otherwise. “Yes, you did. And I know enough about you and your liquor to know that you meant it."

For a second, he thought she would run or lash out at him. But tonight, there was no predicting what she'd do. "Sometimes, on nights like this—even when you annoy the hell out of me—I miss us. What we had. Everything was easy and...sweet. I miss that—God, that awesome high that comes from being with your first lover. I've never felt that fantastic in all the years we've been apart. Being a doctor, there's a high, but it doesn't come close. But we can't really get that back, can we?"

She looked at the hand around hers for a moment, a little bit of heat growing in her eyes. Unable to move, still processing her confession, he watched as she brought his fingers up to her mouth and placed an open-mouthed kiss on his knuckles. Maybe it was just his very vivid imagination, but he could have sworn he felt her tongue flick out to dart over one knuckle. He knew he wasn't imagining things, though, when she lightly bit the tip of one finger.

White hot desire zinged through him. Before he had time to think, he jerked her into a sitting position and crushed his mouth to hers. Too long. The words flashed through his brain, bigger than a Broadway billboard. It had been way too long since he’d tasted his woman, the sweet and spicy combination that could only ever belong to Melody. He'd almost forgotten the feel of her Cupid's-bow mouth under his.

He nipped at her full bottom lip, earning him one of those sexy little moans that only made him hotter for her. Time turned back. At that moment, he wasn't a thirty-two-year-old man. No, he was a twenty-two-year-old college student, making out with the first girl he’d ever given a damn about. God, he'd been a horny bastard back then. And he couldn't get enough of her now. Granted, she was just as insatiable. All of that seemed to be right where they’d left off.

His hand automatically found the curve of her waist, settling just below the hem of the silky camisole and onto hot, bare skin. Although she was skinnier because she forgot to eat regularly, her hips were fuller than they had been last time he’d touched her. From where he sat, the only weight on her lithe body came from the full breasts that his free hand reached up to caress. Without a bra to contain them, her nipples pebbled against the camisole, sending an almost painful bolt of arousal through him. The tight globes he'd worshipped on the eighteen-year-old girl had grown into the full blown lusciousness on the twenty-eight-year-old woman. In that moment, all he wanted to do was rip away the flimsy cloth that separated his mouth from her breasts.

Even as he reveled in her breasts plumped against his chest, he knew he should stop. Under the wonderful taste of Mel, he caught the notes of strong red wine in her mouth. As much as he wanted to keep going, he had to stop. A sober Mel wouldn't let him do this. Not yet, anyway. She’d slap his face and tell him to back off. She definitely wouldn’t let him into her apartment at eleven o’clock at night while she wore next to nothing.

“No.” He pulled away, his entire body throbbing with frustrated need. "We can't do this. Not tonight. Not with you like this."

A little pout made her swollen bottom lip even more enticing. “But it’s so much fun. Remember how much fun we used to have? Come on, we can be friends with benefits again.”

“Fun? Sure.” He rested his forehead against hers, his breath coming in heavy pants. His groin ached to an almost painful degree. "But I want more than fun from you, Mel. And when a bottle and a half of cabernet isn't messing with your head, you wouldn’t suggest going back to the arrangement we had in college. We’re adults and you’re important to me. I don’t want to just be someone you scratch an itch with.”

Her hazel eyes darkened with an emotion much more dangerous than desire. Eyes narrowing, she shoved his chest, sending him sprawling across the arm of the couch and almost hitting his head on the end table. "You always do this."

“Do what?” He tried to reach out, to stop her, but she'd already moved off the couch to pace the living room.

She grabbed the side of her head, pulling at her hair in exasperation. "This. Controlling me. Making decisions that you think are best for me, but are really best for you. Never even considering that maybe I know good and well if I want to screw you tonight or not, even though I've had a little more to drink than usual."

“What the hell are you talking about, Mel? I've never made decisions for you. I'd like to see someone who could."

“Bullshit, Caine." She looked ready to throw something at him. The pacing quickened in tight, frantic circles, almost like a rider trying to ease a spooked horse. “When we were sleeping together, you always assumed I’d be there when you wanted to mess around. That I’d drop everything the second you showed up and deigned to take me out in public.”

Frantically, he wracked his brain, trying to connect the dots. That headache he'd almost got rid of earlier came back in full force. He pinched his nose, trying to get control of his ping-ponging thoughts. He vaguely remembered dropping by her dorm room whenever he felt like it. She had a single room and he shared with one of his frat brothers so it was easier to be with her that way. “Anything I did back then was so I could spend as much time with you as possible. I never wanted anything but to be with you, Mel. You're the one who ended things, remember? Hell, you didn’t even have the guts to do it yourself, you let your dad do it for you.”

“Of course I remember. Do you know why I did it?" Her body hunched in on itself, as if she was trying to block out the memories of that awful summer day.

His mind flashed back to that day. He stood in the Carrs’ living room and listened to the man he thought of as a father tear him apart for breaking his promise to protect Mel from guys who would use her. Ethan said he was a distraction, that she needed to focus on her school work. That she deserved better than to be treated the way Joseph Maddox treated his mistresses. The words hit home, but Caine knew that wasn't the real reason Ethan was warning him away.

“Because you were scared," he shot back. "You were actually starting to have feelings for me and your stubborn, independent genius brain couldn't make sense of it. So instead of taking a chance on me, you ran to your dad because you knew he’d shut it down. You were so scared you even transferred to a school in a different state.”

This time she did throw something at him. The throw pillow from the chair flew at him, hitting him square in the face. At least they'd taught her not to throw like a girl. "Scared? That's rich, even from you. I did have feelings for you, Caine. I'd been so goddamned infatuated with you for years. All I wanted was to be with you."

“That’s a load of crap and you know it. If you wanted to be with me back then, we might be married now with two kids." Caine tossed the pillow on the couch before bracing his hands on his hips. The blood that had been boiling five minutes ago was now pounding through his body in a different primal rhythm. Ten years later, and he still couldn't understand this woman and the reasons why she’d left him. “I was going to tell you that day that I was sure, Mel. But you weren't. You were scared shitless to rely on someone back then and you're even more afraid now."

Mel collapsed into the chair with a bitter laugh. “Caine, I was eighteen. Eighteen! You were the first guy I slept with. My childhood crush. Dad was right to split us up. We were on different paths. Do you know what your friends' girlfriends spent every night for the last three months of your senior year talking about?"

“How the hell should I know that?" He sat down on the sofa. He'd only paid enough attention to his friends' girlfriends to know that he was damn lucky to have Mel. They were all idiots who cared more about reading couture labels than books. That point had been abundantly clear after the trip he went on with all of them before he came back to Unknown that summer.

“Any time we went out with them, you know what I had to hear?" She barely paused for breath. She closed her eyes, as if fighting back the emotions he could practically see spewing out of her. "While you and your buddies talked about cars or 401k plans or whatever you rich men of the world talk about, I had to listen to those girls plan their lives as trophy wives. Trophy wives! They thought I was a cute little girl that you would get sick of and dump for a richer model once the novelty wore off.”

He stared at her, not sure what to say. If she'd stabbed him with one of her scalpels, he doubted he could hurt more than he did right at that moment. Old pain mixed with new. How on earth could she think that of him? "Mel, I would never, ever expect you to be a trophy wife. I saw what that did to my mom and her friends. I was with you because you were nothing like those girls. I was stupid back then, but I wouldn’t have dumped you for someone like them.”

“That was part of the problem," Mel retorted. "Like it or not, you're a Maddox. You're freaking Texas royalty. To be the kind of man your parents expect you to be, you need a trophy wife. Someone who can stay at home and plan parties and network with other trophy wives. That's not me. Dad knew what that would do to me, so he saved me from my stupid hormones.”

Angry bile stuck in his throat. He wanted to cross the room and shake her until she stopped with this nonsense. "Where do you get off deciding what I need? You bitch me out for being controlling? For making decisions for you? I know what I need, Mel, and it sure as hell isn't one of those bimbo wives. I told your dad that, too, not that he’d listen to me. My mother's pushed enough of them at me over the years and I've been bored to tears with every one of them. I choose the women I date. I chose you back then and my choice hasn't changed no matter how stubborn you are."

Her jaw dropped a little. She stared at him in silence for a few moments. He held his breath, hoping that she'd let her guard down, that she'd let him in for real this time, instead of because she wanted to have sex. Slowly she stood, teetering a little. "I'm going to bed. Nothing is making sense right now and I just... I need to go to bed. You can see yourself out."

He probably should have left after he heard her bedroom door close, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Caine made himself comfortable on the soft, girly sofa, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared up at the ceiling. He might look back at this night and call himself a total idiot for talking about feelings when all she’d wanted was sex. He'd lay a bet on it. But he and Mel had been through too much for him to throw it all away by letting history repeat itself with a round of drunken sex and morning regrets. He meant every word he'd said to her. He’d chosen her and he hadn't changed his mind.

He’d just drifted off to sleep when he heard footsteps in her bedroom, followed by the distinctive sound of puking echoing from the bathroom. Right on schedule. He remembered Mel's first serious encounter with alcohol. They'd only been dating a few weeks and he'd taken her to a party at one of the fraternity houses. Being an Ivy League party, there'd been cheap wine to go with the cheap beer.

Mel only had maybe two plastic cups full, but she’d started puking on the way back to her dorm. Rather than leaving her to the tender mercies of a resident advisor, he'd taken her back to her dorm room and held her hair as she spent a few hours draped over the toilet of her postage-stamp bathroom. When she finally wore herself out and emptied every ounce of fluid from her stomach, he’d made her drink a little water and take an aspirin. Then, he held her in his arms until she finally fell asleep. Looking back, that might have been the night he’d lost the battle to keep her out of his heart.

He found Mel hanging over the toilet, her body wracked with spasms as it fought against the wine. She let out a ragged groan and pulled back far enough to rest her forehead against the cool porcelain. "Never, never again."

“You’re never going on a date with the stuffy lawyer again? I like the sound of that," he said lightly, taking a seat next to her.

She glared at him under her arm. "I thought I told you to leave."

He smiled. “I was there the first three times you and wine tried to be buddies. I wasn't going to leave you alone when I knew you'd get sick."

“Why did I think it would be a good idea to drink wine? I know it's been over nine years, but I shouldn't have forgotten." She moaned, sounding miserable.

“I vote we blame it on your boring, non-book-reading date." She started to laugh, but it quickly turned into another round of puking. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he used his other hand to hold her ponytail away from her face.

After she subsided a little, he grabbed a washcloth from the edge of the bathtub and rewet it in the sink. Caine draped the cloth over the nape of her neck, hoping to cool her overheated skin. When she spoke again, her voice was rough and scratchy. "Why are you being so nice to me? I've been such a bitch to you since I got back. Especially tonight."

“You haven't been a bitch, sunshine. You've acted like...an ex-girlfriend." He pressed his lips to her temple. Even ragged from a nasty hangover, she was still one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. "And I'm being so nice because the 'ex' part was never my idea."

A lot of things had happened between them, in the past and tonight. But when it came down to it, nothing mattered more than being here right now to make sure she knew she wasn't alone.