Love for Beginners: An Under the Hood Novella Page 9

  She closed her eyes and gripped the front of his shirt.

  “Mel?”

  “I thought you weren’t going to kiss me again.” Her voice sounded husky. When she opened her eyes he was staring at her with indecision in his eyes.

  “Friends kiss.”

  She pulled in her bottom lip, and watched his gaze flicker to her mouth. Slid her hand up his chest and over the stubble of his jaw. “Yes, friends kiss.” She kissed him back, then took a step back. “You know, I was thinking—you’re going to be out here for hours. It’s only a half hour walk back to the pickup. It makes sense for me to leave you here and come back for you later.”

  “Now that I know where it is, I can walk you back,” Heath said.

  She shook her head. “No need. It’s an easy run.” She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket. “Walk down to where we left the truck at seven. I’ll pack up our stuff and pick you up there.”

  Heath brought the camera to his eye and took a shot as she walked from the shack and disappeared from view. He’d been so entranced by the paintings in the shack, so grateful to Mel for finding them for him, that he’d been compelled to touch her. To kiss her.

  Not as a friend, but as a lover would.

  She hadn’t called him on it, but his actions had been totally at odds with his words earlier. And damn, just like last night, the urge to follow her out into the light was strong. I really have to concentrate. His photographs couldn’t just be good, they had to be brilliant. His friend Chris was a talented writer who’d worked for months on a project to submit to National Geographic. Heath had an editor’s interest, but needed to knock it out of the ballpark if he had any hope of being the photographer accompanying Chris into the Amazon.

  He forced thoughts of Mel from his mind, set up his camera on a tripod, and crouched behind the viewfinder again.

  …

  The sun was setting when he met Mel on the path, hours later. The pickup was stacked with their belongings and she leaned over and pushed open the door when she saw his flashlight’s beam cut through the half light.

  “Good day?” she asked as he climbed into the truck.

  “Great.” He reached into the back and stowed his kit carefully behind his seat. “There should be a picture or two I can use out of the thousands I took. You drove here—do you want to switch places, and I’ll drive back?”

  Even though she’d done nothing all afternoon but lounge around, the prospect of being driven was attractive. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. Switch.” He climbed out and walked around the truck.

  Heath turned the pickup around and drove down the path again to the main road.

  “You’re going to have to tell your family, you know,” Mel said. “About this project.”

  “I know.” He’d been thinking about it all day. He needed to come back out to the cabin again and try to capture some wildlife shots, and couldn’t keep hiding his intentions from Alice and Mark. Being a professional photographer was all he’d ever wanted, and there was no putting it off any longer. “If you guys can spare me, I’ll fly back in a couple of weeks and tell them.”

  She covered a yawn with her hand. “Sorry, I’m exhausted. Must be the night air. That’s fine, we’ll be able to manage without you for a couple of days.” She’d have to get used to the fact that he was going to leave anyway. Next week could act as a trial run.

  Mel’s eyes drooped closed as the steady hum of the engine lulled her into sleep.

  …

  “We’re here.”

  Mel floated up from sleep at the sound of Heath’s voice. She’d been dreaming of him. About the brief kiss he’d planted on her lips outside the shack. She opened her eyes. Night swathed Meadowsweet in its dark embrace as the truck pulled up outside her house. Heath carried the boxes into the house. Their time alone was over.

  He stood in the hallway.

  He’d kissed her despite himself. She’d wanted to slide her fingers into his hair, to deepen the contact, but knew doing so would shatter the moment, would force him to justify his actions and pull away again. Her idea was still a good one—she hadn’t given up on it—but she needed to tread carefully, so she’d headed down the mountain and left him to his work.

  She smoothed her palms over her sides. “Good night.”

  His gaze settled on her mouth, considering.

  For a longing moment she wished he’d give her one of those “friend kisses” again. He didn’t. His gaze flickered up to hers. “We’re good, then.”

  Her head jerked up and down like a bobblehead toy.

  Heath stepped back.

  She stepped aside, pulled the door open wide, and watched him walk away.

  Chapter Ten

  Four nights later, Mel had kicked off her shoes after a hard day at work, eaten dinner, and settled on the sofa in front of the TV with a pint of ice cream and a large glass of wine. The past few days had been beyond frustrating.

  She’d finally lost her temper with her mother, who had been shoving unopened utility bills in a drawer instead of either paying them or handing them over for Mel to pay, causing her power to be cut off. Now as well as the bill, there was a reconnection fee to settle. Mel had spoken plainly for the first time in years. She’d told Marcia she wouldn’t keep bailing her out. Was sick to death of being the responsible one in their relationship. Her mother had been struck dumb in shock by Mel’s outburst, and Mel felt pretty wobbly after it herself.

  And despite what she considered some fairly serious flirting on her part, Heath had remained frustratingly aloof.

  He ate out every lunchtime. Every night, he’d bolted from the garage the moment the clock showed five thirty. It was almost as if he was doing everything in his power to avoid being alone with her.

  She dipped the spoon into the ice cream again with a sigh.

  …

  Heath stood on Mel’s doorstep and rang the bell. Four long days, he’d tried to keep away from her, tried to remember why that was so important. Every day, she smiled at him, brushed against him when they passed in the narrow door into the workshop, licked powdered sugar from her lip from the pastries at the morning meetings. Driving him slowly and steadily out of his mind with desire for her.

  Every night he’d gotten out of there as soon as was humanly possible to resist spending time with her. This evening, he’d bitten the bullet and broken the news of the changes he was making in his life to Alice, and afterward—there had been only one place he wanted to be. He couldn’t resist her anymore.

  He pressed the bell again, looked down, and noticed a dark break in the center of the light bleeding from under her door. He peered at the peephole.

  “I know you’re in there. I just need to talk to you.” For a moment he feared she wouldn’t open the door, then it swung open.

  Mel stood in the doorway, one hand on her hip, the other holding a carton. There was a trace of ice cream on her upper lip. He couldn’t help but track her from head to toe, lingering on the wide expanse of leg showcased by her pajama shorts. “I’m up here.”

  His gaze snapped back to hers. “You were in bed?”

  “Not yet. I have a date.”

  He angled back and tried to look behind her.

  She held up the carton of ice cream. “With rocky road.”

  Warmth spread through his chest, and he felt his mouth curve into a grin. “You almost had me there. Can I come in?”

  “I totally had you.” She stepped to one side. “Sure. What’s this about?”

  He walked into the sitting room and sprawled on the sofa. “I told Alice and Mark about my plan to give up working for the family.”

  She pointed at the open bottle of wine. “Well, that’s worth celebrating—you want a drink?” Without waiting for his answer, she fetched a glass from the cabinet next to the dining table and put it down in front of him. “Help yourself.”

  There were two places she could sit. On the armchair a couple of feet away, or right next to him. She picked
up her glass and settled down on the sofa. “I haven’t seen you much this week.”

  “I’ve been taking pictures. Thousands of pictures. I talked with Mark’s grandmother and she introduced me to some old people who remembered Martha—that’s our hermit’s name—Martha Massey.”

  “Oh.” She was staring at his arms, and her gaze was kinda unfocused.

  He knew how she felt; she was so close, with every inhale he breathed in the faint scent of lemons that probably lingered from her shower. He wanted to reach out and smooth a hand over her long, bare legs.

  She caught him looking and stretched them out.

  He swallowed. “You have damn good legs.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Is that the sort of observation a friend might make?”

  Heath didn’t have the strength to keep playing that particular game. “I guess a friend who can’t stop thinking about you might make such a statement,” he muttered. “A friend who’s regretting a decision he made to stay away from you.”

  “Ah.” Her throat moved in a swallow, and she clasped her hands together in her lap. “I thought you said that sex wouldn’t be a good idea?”

  “That’s before you opened the door to me dressed like that.” He waved a hand at her body. “I’m only human.”

  Mel chewed on her bottom lip, and he couldn’t look away, wanting, needing to touch her.

  “I’m only human, too.”

  He reached out and trailed a hand across her cheek, brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “You’ve been flirting with me all week. My resistance is worn away.”

  “Oh, you noticed that?” She smiled. “I didn’t think you…”

  He leaned in close. “Oh, I noticed all right.” His head angled to the side. “Friends kiss, right?”

  “I think we already established that they do.”

  “Thank God.” At last his lips met hers in a kiss so blistering in intensity his entire body burned with it. When they finally broke apart, both were breathing heavily. At some stage his arms had slid around her back, and his palms were flat against the soft cotton of her pajama top. Her eyes were dark with arousal as she levered up and straddled him on the sofa.

  “I just want you to know…” she whispered with a smile as she unbuttoned her pajama top, “that this won’t change anything. I’ll still respect you in the morning.”

  Heath’s heartbeat was rapid. His hands moved to her stomach, and slowly he opened her shirt to reveal her nakedness. “Where’s your bedroom?”

  …

  Heath left in the middle of the night. Not because he didn’t want to stay, but because he didn’t want to have to face questions from Alice and Mark when they realized he’d spent the night in someone else’s bed rather than his own.

  She’d been drowsy, lying on her side away from him with the entire long length of her back bared to his gaze before he’d left.

  He’d pressed his lips to her nape and heard her sigh.

  “I wish I had my camera with me,” he whispered.

  In the half light, he imagined a series of black-and-white tasteful nude pictures, like those taken by Man Ray in the 1920s. Ones that celebrated the dips and curves of the female form.

  “Would you let me photograph you?”

  She turned in his arms and nuzzled into his chest. “I couldn’t,” she murmured sleepily. “I’d be too embarrassed. Too awkward.”

  Before she’d fallen asleep he’d told her he would leave, but he still felt like a thief in the night as he kissed her sleeping cheek and crept from her bed.

  He’d done his damnedest to keep away from her all week. Had made sure he was always busy whenever she came into the workshop. Had tried to not be so aware of her the whole time, but nothing worked. He’d told himself that sex with Mel was on his mind precisely because it hadn’t happened yet—had persuaded himself that if she were willing and knew the score, they could banish the itch by scratching it.

  So why had he hated leaving her bed to drive home? And why was he missing her warmth as he slipped between the cool sheets of his bed half an hour later?

  He put his hands behind his head and rested his arms on his pillow. Every time he’d touched her she’d been so responsive it had turned his blood hot and his brain to mush. He knew he wasn’t her first, but he had been her first in so many other ways. The first person she’d sighed for, the first to make her scream out in the throes of passion.

  The first man she’d really wanted to make love with.

  Three times, they’d come together, then she’d fallen asleep in his arms. He’d never considered himself a snuggling type, but it had taken a monumental effort to ease away from her sleeping form, dress, and leave. Now, in the brief hours before dawn, he lay awake wondering why being with her was so different than it had ever been with anyone else.

  And wanting to repeat the experience.

  …

  The following afternoon, Mel had a meeting scheduled in her realtor’s office. The bank was getting antsy, and she desperately needed to close a deal as soon as possible. The pave-over-the-garden couple had made an offer after a second viewing.

  It fell pretty far short of Mel’s price, but the realtor was all for her taking it.

  Mel stared out of the realtor’s window as the woman fixed her coffee, all the time ranting away about how she was lucky to see an offer at all.

  If I have to hear another word about the bloody housing market…

  She was so tired, all she wanted was to go home and crawl back into bed. She had aches in places she’d never had aches before. Warmth filled her as she remembered the night before. Sex with Heath had been wonderful. She’d been wonderful.

  The Ice Queen had melted.

  Across the street, she spotted a familiar figure from the corner of her eye.

  Her mother. Dressed in a navy-and-white spotted dress, with a belt cinching in her waist and navy pumps on her feet. She stood at the bus stop, clutching her dressiest handbag. A dutiful daughter would go and see what on earth her mother was up to. A good daughter would offer to take her mother anywhere she wanted to go, rather than watch her waiting for a bus. Mel sat exactly where she was, watched the bus approach and her mother climb onto it.

  “So, Miss Swan, will you take the offer?” the realtor asked.

  She had to get the best price she could for the house—but couldn’t bear to feel as though pressure to settle had forced her to sell out cheap. “Tell them no.”

  When she got back to the garage, it was late afternoon.

  “Heath had something to do and left early,” Betty said. “But I’ve told him we’re all going out tonight.” She stuck a pencil behind her ear.

  “I didn’t know we were going out tonight,” Mel said. Although she’d been so distracted over the past few days, Betty might have mentioned something and she’d forgotten. “Did I?”

  “No, you didn’t.” Betty straightened a pile of papers on her desk and weighed them down with a large wing nut she kept on the desk as a paperweight. “Because I’ve only just decided.” She looked inordinately pleased with herself. “We’ve all been working hard, and I’ve missed our Friday night drinks. Do you realize we haven’t been out since Alice busted her foot?”

  With Betty in this mood, there was no denying her. And anyway, Mel liked the idea.

  Betty glanced at her watch. “Heath will meet us at Mike’s. Let’s lock up and go.”

  As usual, the bar was pretty busy, but they managed to grab a table toward the back. Betty ordered a couple of cosmopolitans from a passing waitress and leaned back in her chair to watch the action.

  “Now there’s a good-looking guy,” Betty said.

  Without being too obvious, Mel took a peek across the room to where Betty had been looking. A tall blond guy was leaning against a pillar drinking a pint of beer. As Mel had lived here all her life, and Betty was relatively new in town, it was up to Mel to help her friend out by putting a name to faces. “That’s Cole Cooper,” she said. “He’s a vet.”


  “I know.” Betty winked at Mel and then waved him over. “I met him yesterday.”

  Mel had been in school with Cole Cooper, although he’d been a couple of years older. He’d been the captain of the football team, every cheerleader’s crush, and what’s more now that he’d become a man, he was single, and cared for animals. He was pretty damned perfect.

  And he was walking over.

  “What are you doing?” Mel hissed.

  Betty grinned. “I’m fixing you up.”

  …

  Today was the day. National Geographic had reviewed the photographs and Chris’s proposal and called her in for a meeting. She’d promised to call the moment the meeting was over and tell him their decision.

  Unable to concentrate at work, he’d headed home, taken a long, leisurely shower, and dressed for the meet-up this evening. Hoping against hope he’d have good news to tell Mel and Betty when he joined them at Mike’s.

  He spread out prints on the coffee table and examined them. He’d had the pictures in his portfolio developed by a specialist house to make the very best impression possible, and had ordered a second set of the pictures of Mel to give her as a present. Tonight, when they left the bar and returned home, he’d give them to her.

  He might have to leave, but there was no way what was between them was over. It had only taken one night to show him without a shadow of a doubt that he wanted more than Mel was prepared to offer. Maybe after another night, he’d persuade her to give him—to give them a chance.

  The phone rang.

  “They okayed my proposal,” Chris said breathlessly. “And when they saw your latest pictures, they were impressed.”

  “Impressed enough to give me a shot?” He held his breath, wanting her to say yes so much it physically hurt.

  Christine laughed. “Yes! We’re spending four weeks in the Amazon and I need you to join me in Washington next week and meet the team.”

  …

  The music was pumping as Heath pushed the door open and walked into Mike’s.