All They Need(40)

Staring out the taxi window, he thought about the calm, serious way she’d watched him as he’d told her about his parents. She had a very warm, real presence. He’d felt…safe with her. Maybe that was why he’d spilled his guts so unceremoniously.

Or maybe you wanted her to hold you to that spectacular bosom of hers and offer you a different kind of comfort.

He shifted again, but there was no denying the fact that he was very attracted to Mel. His mouth thinned into a grim line. He’d like to think he had a little more finesse than to try to whinge and whine his way into a woman’s bed, but the evidence was definitely stacked against him.

He was still brooding when the taxi pulled up in front of his town house in Kew. He handed over the fare and was sliding out of the cab when his phone rang. He took the call as he pushed the car door shut.

“Hi. I feel like such an idiot— I forgot to give you your keys.”

It was Mel, her voice low and slightly breathless over the line. “Keys. Right.” He patted his pocket, and sure enough there was no telltale bulge beneath his hand.

Damn.

He was vaguely aware of the taxi driving off into the night as Mel spoke again.

“You left them in the Aston Martin and I locked it up and brought them home with me and meant to give them to you…?.”

He turned and considered the locked door to his town house. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But you’ll need your house keys, won’t you? I can bring them up to you. Give me your address and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“You’re not making a two-hour round trip to bring me my keys. I’ve got a spare with the neighbors, and it wasn’t as though I was going to be able to drive the Aston Martin into work tomorrow, anyway. I’ll organize a courier to pick them up in the morning.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m the one who ran off like a moron. I’ll give you a call tomorrow to let you know when to expect the courier, okay?”

“All right.”

He hesitated, tempted to apologize for the gut-spilling and associated other self-indulgences of the evening. Then he decided that he should quit while he was ahead.

“I’ll see you later, Mel,” he said.

He ended the call and glanced at his neighbor’s window. There was a light on downstairs. With a bit of luck they’d be home. Otherwise he’d be forced to catch a cab to his parents’ place for the night.

Luck was with him and he was soon letting himself in with his spare key. He sent Mel a quick text, just in case she was worrying. She responded immediately:

Phew. Load off. Will get keys to you tomorrow.

He started composing a return text and then caught himself. He’d imposed himself on her enough for one day. Time to give the woman a break.

It didn’t stop him from thinking about her as he got ready for bed.

The way she’d thrown her car keys at him with no questions or caveats.

Her sympathetic patience as he’d talked about his father.

The admiration in her gaze as she looked over the design he’d sketched for her.

That moment this morning when she’d been adjusting the harness on the cutter and her fingers had brushed his belly and she’d looked up, straight into his eyes.

Mel Porter was one out of the box. Funny, smart, kind, generous—and, of course, sexy as hell.

Last night he’d decided that she wasn’t fling material because there was a vulnerability in her that demanded patience and commitment that he simply didn’t have to offer at the moment. But it hit him suddenly that he’d gotten it completely ass-about. The reason Mel wasn’t fling material wasn’t because she was vulnerable, it was because she was a keeper.

One night with her would never be enough.

It was the last thought he had before he drifted off to sleep.



MEL WOKE IN muffled darkness, covered in sweat. Her legs were bound, she couldn’t breathe…?. She flailed and kicked and suddenly was fully awake, in her bed, the sheets wrapped around her legs, the quilt over her face. She batted it away, kicked her legs free and reached for the bedside light. Golden light shone up the wall and she blinked. Her heart was pounding away, her pulse vibrating in her neck. She moved to the edge of the bed and stood, shivering in the cold with her clammy skin. She grabbed a towel from the ensuite, stripped off her pajamas and rubbed herself down. She found a fresh pair of pajamas in the chest of drawers and pulled them on. She straightened the covers, then got into bed on the opposite side, where the sheets weren’t damp from her panicky sweat.