Melt For Me (Against All Odds Book 3) (5 page)

“Go on.”

“You realized after graduation that I was right—not sure how you didn’t catch that sooner—and chose music over baseball.”

He chuckled again, and the sound sent a shiver of warmth through her chest. Warmth that wasn’t the kind of heat she needed right now.

She cleared her throat and refocused. “You went on one of those reality music competition shows—I don’t remember which one—and won, and your band quickly rose up the charts. You now live the carefree life of a rock star, with a different girl every weekend, properties all over the world, and probably as many drugs as you can handle.”

“Yeah, me and those drugs. I think last week’s tabloid said I was in my fourth stint at rehab.”

“Fifth,” she corrected. Though she hated to think there was even a frisson of truth in those stupid stories. The Tate she’d known hadn’t touched drugs. A beer now and then, but even those had been few and far between. He’d cared too much about baseball to risk ruining his body.

When he didn’t answer, nerves rumbled in her belly. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Pretty close. Though you missed a few key points.”

She knew he was baiting her, but she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “Like?”

“Well, to start with, I did go back to college and finish my degree, but I didn’t go back to baseball.”

“You didn’t?” She sat up a little straighter. “Your senior season was coming up.”

“I know. Let’s just say my heart wasn’t in it anymore.”

He’d quit baseball? He’d loved baseball.

“I did form a band,” he went on. “And we played the college circuit for a while, then did an audition for a reality show and made the cut. But we didn’t win. Came in third.”

She’d known that. She’d watched every episode the season he’d been competing. She just couldn’t let him know she knew.

“And we didn’t shoot right up the charts,” he went on. “Took a while. A record label signed us after the show, but we definitely didn’t hit it big. We played a lot of small venues, then finally got signed to open for Sacred Asylum. That’s when we really started to get noticed.”

But he had hit it big. Or had been on his way to making it big. She’d been to that concert. Or she’d been…near…that concert.

“Yes, I do own several homes now,” he went on. “But no, I’m not into the drug scene at all. Kinda surprised you’d even think that. As for a different girl every weekend… Well, let’s just say the tabloids report what they want to report.”

“Meaning they’re photoshopping you into all those pictures with scantily clad women?”

He chuckled again, and she closed her mouth quickly, realizing she’d pretty much given away the fact she kept close tabs on what he was up to.

“I date casually, mostly because I have functions I have to go to. It’s easier to go with a date than to go alone. But that doesn’t mean I’m involved with any of them.”

Involved with
and
sleeping with
were two very different things. But Ella wasn’t about to say so. Besides which, she didn’t care who he slept with. Right?

Yeah, keep telling yourself that, missy.

“So now it’s my turn,” Tate said in the dark.

Ella was too distracted by the pressure in her chest to realize it was time to protest.

“So after you pretty much kicked my ass to the curb,” he said, “you went to art school in Rhode Island, as you planned. I know from talking to your mother that you didn’t finish school, though. Why didn’t you finish, Ella?”

Nerves jumped in Ella’s stomach all over again, and she pressed her back firmly against the cool wall. She was going to kill her mother. Why had she even talked to him? “I lost interest.”

He was silent in the darkness, and she knew he didn’t believe her. But she couldn’t exactly tell him the truth, now could she?

“So you left college and came to Holly, where you met a guy who owned a bar and decided that was your life goal? To run a bar in the middle of nowhere? How does that even happen?”

He wasn’t playing this game the way she wanted him to play it. He was asking rather than guessing. And her skin tingled because she didn’t know what to tell him. “There’s nothing wrong with running a bar.”

“No, there’s not,” he said carefully. “If you aren’t already an incredibly talented painter.”

“Maybe I don’t like painting anymore. Maybe after studying it in college, it just wasn’t fun anymore. Did you think of that?”

“No, I—”

“Maybe sometimes life doesn’t turn out the way you plan, and you have to improvise,” she went on. “I know you think a couple of years is a long time to struggle, but some people struggle a lot longer than that. Life isn’t all about fancy parties and limos and yachts and celebrities, you know. Sometimes you end up in places you never planned. But that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with that.”

“I know,” he said softly. Close. Closer than he’d been before.

In a daze, she realized his hand was on her arm and that he was gently touching her. But her heart was beating too fast, her chest was rising and falling with her quick breaths, and she was trapped in all this plastic, so she couldn’t easily move away from him. And part of her didn’t want to move away from him because the feel of his hand on her arm was good…so good…even if she was covered in garbage bags. Which, in and of itself, was downright crazy.

“I wasn’t trying to upset you,” he said. “I just noticed that you don’t have any of your work hanging in the bar. And I was curious about why. You’re gifted, Ella. Makes me a little sad to think that you gave it all up.”

Her heart rate slowed, and her breaths evened out. But she still didn’t pull away from his touch when she knew she should. Because her thoughts drifted to the sketch she’d done of him sitting on that beach nine years ago, and she wondered if he still had it.

Probably not. Why would he have kept it? He’d moved on with his life. Even if he wouldn’t cop to being involved with anyone right now, she’d
seen
how he’d moved on.

His arm slid around her shoulder, and the movement was enough to jolt her thoughts back to the moment. She stiffened and leaned away. “What are you doing?”

“You’re shivering and, frankly, so am I. Our best chance to keep from freezing to death is to use body heat.”

A tremor ran down her spine, and she realized he was right. She was shivering. She’d just been so focused on her stupid thoughts and emotions, she hadn’t realized it. Though that didn’t mean she was okay with “body heat.”

“Come on, Ella. I don’t bite. Anymore, that is.”

A whisper of heat rushed through her as a memory flashed, of the two of them cuddling around a fire he’d made on the beach. His hands around her waist as she leaned back into him and stared at the flames, his lips moving gently along her neck. Her soft hum of approval when he’d licked a sensitive spot, then nipped at her skin until she’d moaned.

She swallowed hard. Knew she was playing with fire being this close to him. Tried to scoot away. But his arm was like a solid band of steel, keeping her close.

“I’m too tired to try anything tonight, anyway,” he said around a yawn. “Besides which, if I did, I wouldn’t put it past you to clock me with another bottle.”

That was true. She would. A little of her anxiety ebbed, and she relaxed against his arm. “I did get you pretty good, didn’t I?”

He chuckled, but the sound shifted, and she sensed he’d leaned his head back against the wall. “You did. I’m almost afraid to see the bruise.”

Her thoughts jumped to visions of his bare chest and strong shoulders and what he must look like now. And just that fast, her pulse sped up again.

“Close your eyes,” he said softly. His big hand landed against the side of her head and gently tugged her closer. “Hopefully, by the time we wake, someone will be down to rescue us.”

Ella didn’t have any choice but to lay her head against his chest. But as she drew in his familiar scent and felt the heat of his strong body seep into hers, she realized that even when they were found, there was no one who could rescue her. Because no matter how hard she’d tried to keep her heart locked off these last few years, one night with Tate Kendrick had suddenly kicked the stupid thing right into overdrive.

CHAPTER THREE

F
ingertips drifted over Tate’s bare shoulder and down his arm, then brushed his ribs, sending a shiver of heat all across his torso. He sighed and tipped his head to the side, wanting more of that warmth, more of that tantalizing touch, loving the soft glide of skin against skin and the way it brought his entire body to life.

Something smooth skimmed his abs, then a heavy weight pressed over his leg. He drew in a deep whiff of honey and vanilla. Two scents that told him he was dreaming. Two scents that made him desperate for more.

He grappled in the dark. Wrapped his hand around solid flesh. And shifted the fantasy around until she was cradled on his lap. A soft moan slipped from her lips. He grew hard and hot and achy beneath her. He nuzzled her neck, drawing in her scent again, getting lost in the familiarity of a dream he’d relived for nine long years.

Another moan. A shift of her weight over his. Then she was straddling him and breathing heavily against his neck, the heat between her legs settled right over his erection, begging him to rock up against her.

He wrapped his arms around her waist. Pressed his lips against her throat. Rocked just until he heard her moan again. Groaned himself when she pressed down against him. And loved this dream. Wished like hell it were real.

Shuffling echoed from above. Followed by a female voice saying, “Did you find her?”

The fantasy plastered against him stiffened.

Footsteps sounded against wood. Then hinges groaned. And another female voice, this one clearer, called, “Ella?”

The fantasy pushed against his shoulders. And as Tate blinked into the sliver of light coming down the stairs, he realized it hadn’t been a dream. Ella was straddling his hips in the dark, looking down at him with shock and confusion and the same damn arousal he felt deep in his bones.

“Oh my God.” She scrambled off him, stumbled, but found her footing. “Y-yes,” she called up the stairs, looking quickly away from him. “We’re down here!”

“Ella?” Kelly Evans exclaimed, moving down the old stairs. “What the heck happened last night?”

That was exactly what Tate wanted to know. He shifted against the wall, unable to stand because of how tight his jeans were at the moment, so he didn’t even try. Though it was too dark to see much, there was just enough light coming down from the open door to illuminate the garbage sacks strewn across the floor. Garbage sacks he didn’t remember pulling off him or Ella.

Ella brushed the auburn hair back from her face with stiff arms and tight shoulders that told Tate she was flipping the hell out over what they’d done. Or almost done. Right here on the cellar floor. “I’m fine. Everything’s okay. The power just went out and…”

Dressed in the pub’s standard uniform—black pants and a fitted white top—Kelly turned at the bottom of the stairs and reached for Ella’s hands. “When I came in and saw what happened upstairs, I went looking for you, only you weren’t in your apartment.”

“No,” Ella said. “I came down to— Wait. What do you mean about upstairs? What happened?”

“You didn’t see it last night? Oh, of course you didn’t. You didn’t go outside.”

Footsteps sounded on the stairs again, and Tate looked up to see another woman, this one with shoulder-length, straight blonde hair, dressed in hip country boots, jeans, and a loose sweater, descending into the cellar. “Ella? Are you okay?”

Ella let go of Kelly and stepped toward the stairs. “Faith? What’s going on?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.” Faith gave her a quick hug. “I came over to grab the ladder you borrowed for the new lights, and Kelly told me what happened and that she couldn’t find you.”

Tate’s brow dropped as he slowly pushed to his feet and eyed the three women, his arousal long gone.

Ella lowered her arms to her sides. “Would someone please tell me what’s going on?”

Faith finally noticed they weren’t alone. Her gaze skipped to Tate’s bare chest, and she stiffened.

On Ella’s other side, Kelly slowly smiled. “Well. At least now we know you were safe. And most definitely warm.”

A shiver ran down Tate’s spine, and for the first time since he’d awoken, he was aware of the cool air. He was also keenly aware of the way Ella’s shoulders tightened again.

“Um, Faith Nicholas,” Ella said, “this is Tate Kendrick.” To Tate, she said, “Faith runs the hardware store in town. He”—she looked back at Faith—“was staying on the third floor, thanks to someone”—her gaze skipped to Kelly—“who might not get her Christmas bonus this year. Tate came down just after I did to check on the power outage.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Faith flashed a curious smile.

Kelly focused on Ella. “It wasn’t a power outage.”
 

“I know.” Ella ran one hand through her long, dark hair. “One of the fuses is blown. We just couldn’t find a new one down here in the dark. Kendrick let the door shut and trapped us in here.”

“It’s not a blown fuse either,” Kelly said. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. I noticed it when I parked and came in this morning. The lines that run into the building are cut.”