A Little Less Conversation Page 5
Clearing his throat, Mark took a long swallow of beer, and said, “What was that, honey?”
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Carlos set their hot tortilla chips on the table with a side of freshly made salsa, and Melanie took a salty chip as she gave her best effort at a grin and said, “Just remember you asked for this.”
“I sure did,” he drawled with a slow, meaningful smile that had her blinking at him, her cheeks flushing with another wave of heat. And I’ll be asking for a hell of a lot more, when you’re finally ready, he silently groaned, wanting to ask for everything right then, at that very moment. Instead, he sat back and listened as she began telling hilarious stories about the places she’d traveled, Kyra’s possessed computer in the office, and how much she enjoyed living on the coast. Within no time at all, they were laughing and eating and drinking their beers, enjoying themselves too much to worry about being nervous or shy or horny. Well, he was still horny as hell, but Mark suspected that would be a condition that he’d always suffer in her presence, and damn, but if he didn’t look forward to it.
They finished their meals, eating off one another’s plates with the intimacy of longtime lovers, as the restaurant became crowded and the noise level around them grew, while strings of tiny dazzling lights sparkled overhead, swaying in the breeze.
There was a brief scuffle over the check, as he steadfastly refused to let her pay and she called him a chauvinistic bully, only relenting when he threatened to buy her a serenade from the smiling trio roaming among the tables. Then, with the sun preparing for its breathtaking finale on the horizon, they took off their shoes and headed for the cool, crisp, golden sand.
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Chapter Four
Side by side, they walked in the surf, with the cold Pacific frothing around their ankles while the sun-warmed breeze tossed their hair, and Mark found himself telling Melanie Green things that he’d never told anyone else. Certainly not any of the women he’d known, no matter how intimately. They talked of his childhood, growing up with his dad and Cain, his mom having bailed out when he was only four and Cain was nine. He told her about his Dad’s attempts to keep him and Cain on the straight and narrow, and how he spent a nightmare summer at a boy’s disciplinary camp after borrowing his Dad’s car for a joyride at fourteen, nearly killing himself, but thankfully not harming anyone when he wrapped the car around a tree.
Melanie listened with genuine interest, as if she honestly cared, never judging when he was honest about mistakes he’d made as a hotheaded know-it-all in his younger years, and yet not making excuses either. She was steady and real and warm at his side, and it took some prodding, but she finally opened up to tell him more about growing up in a small town in Northern California, with a close-knit family that still got together for holidays. He asked about school, and before long she was recounting more hilarious tales of mishaps during the two years she’d spent at community college, before finally settling on her career and getting her degree in Hospitality and Tourism, because of her love for travel.
And with those gentle openings, Mark felt himself falling farther into another person than he’d ever thought possible. Deeper and deeper, until feelings that had been wrapped up in lust and hunger and keening physical awareness began churning with more emotional want, as if everything inside him was bleeding together, and the raw-edged power of absolute need for this woman became sharper. More defined. More alive. Something he could all but taste on the air, sense through the coursing of his 41
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blood. Emotions and desire became tangled into intricate, spellbinding knots, so that it was difficult to determine one from the other, and he marveled at the strange closeness pulling them together. Closer…and then closer, until finally her side was pressed to his, his arm looping around her lower back, securing her against him as they walked through the lapping surf beneath the glittering stars and rising moon, her sandals hanging loosely from one hand.
Mark had known from the start that what he felt for this woman was special, but now he understood its permanence upon his soul, and the fear of screwing it up became a tangible thing.
When the sun finally fell and the breeze blew cool off the vast expanse of the endless Pacific, he steered them back up Main Street, the old-fashioned, newly restored gas lamps lighting their way, setting the shadows of the night alight with a flickering, golden glow. As they neared the open windows of his bar, they could hear the live blues band that played every Friday night, accompanied by voices and laughter, flowing into the cool breeze that surrounded them.
With a sly smile, he took Melanie’s hand and pulled her over to the open window that looked into the bustling workspace behind the bar. Nodding his head toward the long, gleaming length of hand-carved wood, its opposite side packed with locals and tourists sipping on everything from wine to beer, many even dining on the tasty fare he offered from his kitchen, Mark lowered his mouth to the dainty shell of her ear and whispered, “What do you think of my handiwork, Miss Green? Does it live up to its reputation?”
A teasing glint danced in the burnished depths of her eyes, and he found himself looking forward to her response with a warm, vivid rush of anticipation.
And she didn’t disappoint him.
“You know,” she said thoughtfully, pursing her lips, “I’m tempted to say that when you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.”
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“Ooh, you’re brutal, sweetheart.” He winced dramatically, though the effect was ruined since he couldn’t stop the choked laughter rumbling up from his chest.
“Although, to be fair,” she mused, head tilting slightly to the side as she put on a show of studying the gleaming bar, “I should point out the rather obvious fact that yours does seem significantly larger than others that I’ve…er…examined.” Mark raised his brows, the corners of his mouth kicking up in a purely wicked grin of satisfaction, refusing to make a comment on that one, certain he’d find himself issuing her an offer guaranteed to get him into a shitload of trouble. Especially in light of the fact that he was determined to be on his best behavior with her tonight.
“Of course, from its size,” she drawled, her expression one of pure innocence, even though her eyes were shining with mischievous delight, “I can only gather that you must be exceptionally good with your hands. And it looks so well cared for. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that you…um, stroke it down a good ten to fifteen times a day.”
“Oh shit.” This time he couldn’t keep the deep rumble of laughter inside, shaking his head at her outrageousness. “You win that round, you little minx.”
“Well, you started it,” she grinned, fluttering her lashes at him. “What is it they say about, ‘If you can’t stand the heat’?”
“But I’m already going up in flames,” he murmured so softly, he wasn’t entirely certain that she’d heard him, until she ducked her head, a small smile playing at the edge of her mouth. A heavy, charged silence pulsed between them for the span of a single second…then two, three, four…until Cain finally finished filling an order of cosmos for a group of locals. Mark snagged his attention when he looked in their direction, thankful for the distraction. “Two Heinekens, old man,” he called out with a shit-eating grin.
Cain mouthed a “fuck you” at him, and then sent his killer smile at Mel, the one that made most women go all gooey inside, and she smiled back, sending a strange shaft of possession through Mark’s blood that he’d never felt with another woman.
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Damn, and he’d sure as hell never been jealous of his brother before, but this was pushing it close. Too close. He captured her hand again and squeezed her fingers in a gentle hold, pulling her closer to his side while Cain grabbed their drinks, a knowing look in the bastard’s deep blue eyes that made Mark want to clobber him.
But then there was Mel kind of melt
ing against his hip, and the sudden flare of jealousy was lost beneath a savage surge of satisfaction, even when Cain started walking toward them and she was still sending the handsome ass that sweet smile that never failed to make Mark want to fuck her. Hell, who was he kidding? All she had to do was breathe and he was aching and ready to take her to the first available surface for a long, hard, mind-shattering ride.
“Hey Mel,” Cain called out, his voice booming and loud to be heard over the pulsing beat of the smoky music as he neared the window. “What do I have to do to convince you to ditch my baby brother and run away with a real man, beautiful?” Mark sent a warning look at Cain, but Melanie just laughed, squeezing the arm he had secured around her waist as she tilted her face up to his, her smile reaching her eyes with a luminous shimmer of warm, heart-melting humor. “What do you think, Mark? Should I ditch you for an older man?”
Cain smiled, saluting her with a bottle before setting them on the window ledge.
“Men are like wine, sweetheart. We only improve with age.” A slow grin curved her mouth as she reached for her beer. “If only women were so lucky,” she murmured dryly, then gave his brother an appraising gaze, much like the one she had used on his bar, and in a husky purr that had both men blinking in sensual surprise, she said, “Your offer does sound interesting, though. Especially seeing as how Mark has decided to save his amorous affections for all the other lucky gals in Foggy Bottom Beach.”
Her tone had been teasing, and yet, Mark had noted a sharper edge to the words that gave him pause. Had Melanie totally misread him earlier, when he broke off that mind-drugging kiss in the hallway at Caza’s? Shit. He’d only been trying to prove that 44
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he was looking for more than a meaningless fling with her. Trying to make it clear that he wasn’t just looking to work his way into her pants—even though he wanted in there so damn badly it was making him crazed, like he had some kind of wicked jungle fever that he couldn’t shake. But she sounded as if she didn’t believe he was interested in her at all. Fuck.
Cain sent him a questioning look, but there didn’t seem to be a damn thing he could say at the moment, especially with his older brother watching him like a shark. A flare of male disgust flashed through Cain’s sky blue gaze, and he snorted, cutting his baby blues back to Melanie. “I was always smarter than this little runt, anyway, sweetheart.
And I can promise you that interesting is only the beginning,” he drawled with more charm than Mark had ever seen the conniving wolf use on a woman. “Just think of the vast experience I have on Marky boy here.” Her eyebrows arched, cheeks going pink at the all-too-carnal look glittering in Cain’s eyes, and yet she didn’t cower or try to rush off, and Mark realized that she was more than comfortable holding her own with his brother. Obviously she was at ease talking to men, and her awkward shyness only came with him, which made him want to crawl inside her mind to find out why. Did it mean that she wanted something more from him? That she might actually be interested in wanting a whole hell of a lot with him? Damn, he wished like hell that he knew what was going on inside that beautiful little head of hers. And the irony of the situation didn’t escape him. He was used to being able to read a woman’s needs without effort—it was second nature to him—but trying to read Melanie was like attempting to translate a foreign language that he didn’t speak. She was a mystery, multifaceted and brilliant, her tender innocence and provocative allure combining to create a devastating blow to his system.
“How… tempting,” she replied, the word rolling off her tongue in a tone that perfectly matched Cain’s teasing one. With an impish grin, she added, “No wonder all the ladies taking classes down at the station are in love with you. All that experience must make you a wonderful instructor.”
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Cain threw back his head and roared with laughter, while Mark found himself muttering, “Over my dead body.”
Melanie sent him a questioning look, while Cain braced his hands on the ledge and leaned forward. “Don’t let him scare you off, honey,” he said huskily, smiling as he sent her a devilish wink. “He’s just still sore over the cheerleader I snagged away from him back in his college days. I took pity on the runt, in the end, though, and shared some of the evil genius of my wicked ways with him. Thanks to me, he’s not a total lost cause when it comes to pleasing a woman.”
One slim golden brow arched in humor. “And that’s going to help me how?” she laughed. “Last time I checked, friends didn’t let friends…” Her voice trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.
“Well, if they don’t, they sure as hell should,” Cain laughed. “And if Marky boy here doesn’t measure up, you know where to find me, sweetheart.”
“Enough,” Mark gritted out. “Stop poaching on my date, damn it.”
“She said you were just friends,” Cain answered defensively, the look in eyes daring him to disagree.
“Cain,” he said in a low, warning rasp, “shove it.” The irreverent ass grabbed her hand and pressed a slow kiss to the inside of her wrist, precisely over the point of her pulse, and Mark choked on a growl when he saw her slender fingers curl into her palm from the sensation. Then the smug bastard winked at her as she laughed, and he found himself grinding his back teeth.
“I’ll be back later to help you close up,” he practically snarled, all but dragging a laughing Melanie away as Cain snickered knowingly behind them, heading back to the customers at the bar.
“Your brother’s a riot,” she said into the quiet stillness of the night, as the music faded behind them. The flickering glow of the gas lamps softly punctuated the thickening darkness, while the distant surf churned softly, the sea-salty tang of the ocean washing over them in the gentle, sultry breeze.
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“He is that, all right,” he agreed with a wry twist to his lips. “Not to mention a royal pain in the ass.”
“I think he just likes picking on you. Kyra does the same to me.”
“Yeah? Then maybe we should get the two of them together.”
“God, they’d kill each other,” she laughed. “And anyway, you know he loves you,” she said with a smile, still holding his hand, and he tried not to grin like a loon over that simple action. Tried not to lose it at the sweet touch of her fragile, feminine flesh against his own. All the intimate details of her, the little things he’d taken for granted with other women he’d known, worked to undo him, making him feel shaky and pumped up on the steady surge of adrenaline spiking through his system. His heart pounded, pulse racing, from nothing more than the sheer delicacy and tender strength of her lithe female body moving in step beside his tall frame. It was a maddening thing, the way he wanted to ravage and shelter her all at once, making his head feel thick—his cock feel thicker.
Trying to distract himself, Mark focused on her words. “Yeah, I suppose he does love me, in his own warped way.”
A soft, thrumming tension trembled through her as she said, “Mark, may I ask you a question?”
He steered them down a side street, knowing it led toward the little walkway behind her apartment, nowhere near ready to relinquish her company, and yet, not sure how much longer he could trust himself to be close to her tonight. “Sure. Shoot.” She looked around, seeming to lose her train of thought as she noted their surroundings. “Are you walking me home?”
“Uh, yeah. I better get back to the bar and help out or it’ll be a nightmare when Miller opens tomorrow.”
“He’s the new bartender you hired, isn’t he?” she asked, taking a sip of the Heineken she still clutched in her free hand. “The big scary-looking guy?” 47
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“Yeah, though I don’t think he’s all that scary,” he said with a low laugh, “so much as intense.”
“I accidentally ran into him on my way out of Roy’s the other morning, and he looked pretty scary to me.”
He sought her eyes
in the mellow darkness of the night. “Was he rude to you?”
“No, he just didn’t look overly friendly. But maybe you’re right,” she said with a small shrug. “It was probably just that whole intense look he has going. He’s got the dark brooding thing down to a T.”
“He’s a hell of a worker though. I was up to my ass in that place until he came on to help me out. And Cain still pitches in from time to time, like tonight.”
“You should be really proud, Mark. You’ve done amazing things with the bar. It’s popular with both the locals and the tourist trade. I don’t think Kyra and I have ever been in when it wasn’t busy.”
His chest swelled with ridiculous pride at her praise, and he squeezed her hand, reluctant to leave her…and knowing that if he didn’t, he was going to end up taking her to bed. Christ, if he thought there was a chance in hell he wouldn’t ruin things by doing it, he’d already be in her pants, without a second thought. He wanted it—god, did he want it—but he couldn’t shake the feeling that if he followed through on the need, he’d be screwing his chance for more than a casual relationship. And he needed more. Hell, he needed all of it. He took another long swallow of his beer, enjoying the sharp chill against his dry throat, and finally said, “You’ll have to come in more. I’d like to see you in my place.”
“Yeah?” Her head tilted as she shot him a questioning look.
“Yeah.” As in all the time. He had a vivid vision of her laid out over his bar, his face buried between her splayed thighs as he licked and sucked up her drugging, delicate juices, and wondered how in hell’s name he was going to survive this waiting. “Why don’t you come in tomorrow and I’ll take some time for lunch?” he suggested, trying to sound casual. “We can kick back and talk, and I’ll show you around.” 48
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