Meltdown (11 page)

She got no farther. He caught her hands in his, pulling her to him with a force that took her breath away. “Don’t play games with me,” he warned.

She shook her head, trying to cope with the sensory overload from so much of his body touching hers. Every inch of her burned with living electricity. She swallowed, barely able to speak the words. “I’m not playing.”

He looked at her, his hungry eyes searching her
soul. How could she have ever thought them soft? He lifted his hand and traced her jaw with his index finger, the light touch trailing a line of fire across her sensitive skin. He turned her head and pulled her to him, laying his cheek against her hair with a tenderness that counteracted the hard strength of his arms.

“That makes two of us,” he whispered.

They moved in unison to the slow rhythm. More couples crowded onto the dance floor, but it might have been empty for all Chris noticed. Nothing mattered but Melanie—holding her, feeling her, breathing in the deeply erotic scent of her. Holding her was like holding smoke, and he wasn’t at all certain she wouldn’t dissolve at the first puff of air. Impossible to believe this changeling creature was his straightlaced business partner. He rubbed his cheek against her hair, drinking in its deep forest scent, and whispered, “Who are you?”

She reached up and twined her arms around Chris’s neck. “Whoever you want me to be.”

His eyes looked deep into hers, robbing her of the last of her caution.
It’s a dream
, she thought, a fantasy like all the others.
I’ll wake up soon. But, please, please, God, not yet. Not just yet
.

“Melanie,” he said, his word a caress. He brushed his fingers against the side of her neck, feeling the warm, frantic pulse of her heartbeat. Softly he lowered his lips to hers. “You’re driving me crazy.”

That makes two of us, she thought as she opened her lips to his. She felt hot and ripe, and so ready for him she could barely breathe. Underneath his gentle caress she parted her mouth and brushed her tongue enticingly against his lips. At the same time she pressed herself against him, her fingers making small circles around the small of his back. Shameless, the reserved part of her condemned. She
couldn’t have cared less. She was throwing herself at him and she knew it, but all that mattered was the aching desire in her body.

Chris kissed her again, his lips ravishing her with subtle magic. He moved to her neck and placed his hot mouth against the vein, drawing a gasp of pleasure from her. He tugged back her collar, attempting unsuccessfully to expose more of her throat. For a moment she thought he was going to tear it, and wished he would.

Instead, he stopped abruptly and pulled her toward the edge of the dance floor. “We’re getting out of here. Now.”

His tone invited no argument, an unnecessary precaution since she was in no condition to protest. His kiss had left her speechless. That kiss, the music, and the wine had created a strange alchemy within her, blurring her sense of reality. The solid world retreated into shadows, and her vision began to fray at the edges. She blinked, trying to dispel the fog that was creeping into her mind. Only Chris seemed real.

Time skipped and she was settling herself into the seat of Chris’s convertible, watching him close the door behind her with an unnecessarily loud thump. As he walked over to the driver’s side she sank into the comfortable seat, enjoying the feel of the supple leather against her skin. “Feels nice,” she purred.

Chris slid into the car. He watched her stretch her lithe body against the seat, his abdomen contracting with her every move. Her enticing movements were pushing him dangerously close to the edge of control. He wanted her, yes—but he didn’t intend to let their first time together happen in some dingy parking lot. He looked away, concentrating on finding his keys. “Put on your seat belt, Melanie.”

She looked around. “Can’t find it.”

Dutifully Chris reached over to pull out the belt, realizing too late he’d have to straddle Melanie’s body. Her hand covered his own, guiding the belt across her hips in an extremely intimate fashion. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to remove his hand and sit up.

“Melanie—” he warned through gritted teeth.

She smiled sweetly. “I’ll help you with yours,” she offered.

“No, you won’t,” he commanded. “Now get back on your side like a good girl.”

Melanie sighed, leaning back against the seat. “You’re no fun,” she intoned glumly.

Chris smiled. “Don’t be too sure,” he said as he turned on the ignition. “The evening’s just beginning.”

Melanie stretched like a contented cat. “Oh?”

“Don’t ‘oh?’ me. You wanted to get out of there just as much as I did. I can still feel that kiss.”

“Umm,” Melanie agreed, brushing her lips with the back of her hand. “A very satisfactory solution to my equation.”

“Equation? What equation?”

“This one.” She bent over and kissed him. A soft, lingering kiss full of promise.

Chris was shaken to the core. Melanie’s barest touch ignited him like a match to dry tinder, and his self-control was almost burned away. Some equation, he thought as he watched her settle back in the seat, forcing himself not to touch her. The woman was more dangerous than dynamite. “So, Miss Rollins,” he said, backing the car out of the parking space, “are there any more ‘equations’ you’d like to share with me?”

She made a small, noncommittal sound.

“No comment, eh? Well, I think I should warn you I’ve got a few equations of my own.”

Melanie didn’t answer. When he glanced over in her direction, he saw why his last comments had received no response.

Melanie—vibrant, enticing Melanie—was curled up against the far door, fast asleep.

Someone was building computers in her mind. Melanie’s head resonated with each fall of the hammer as it pounded the modular units into place. Her mouth tasted stale from the metallic wire shavings.

I know manufacturing space is limited
, she thought with a sleeper’s logic,
but couldn’t they have picked a better place to set up shop?
She turned over slowly, trying not to disturb the tiny workmen banging away in her brain. But disturb them she did. The hammers beat out double-time, threatening to break right through her fragile cranium. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling of her bedroom, waiting for the pain to stop ricocheting through her tender tissues. “Ow,” she mumbled, “I can’t take much more of this.”

“Trust me, it’ll pass.”

Great. Now one of the workmen was talking to her, imitating Chris’s voice to gain her attention. “Go ’way,” she told him. “And stop sounding like Chris.”

The workman chuckled. “Who should I sound like, genius? Einstein?”

It couldn’t be. But it was. Melanie peered over the top of her comforter and saw Chris standing at the foot of her bed. His sleeves were rolled up and he was casually wiping grease from the end of a screwdriver, as if being in her room were the most normal thing in the world.

“Wh-what are you doing here?”

“Installing a modem,” he answered. “We’re testing
E’s remote today, aren’t we? Besides, it’s the least I could do after what happened last night.”

“Last night?” Melanie searched her memory of the night before. Except for a few scattered images, her mind registered a disturbing blank. She remembered the warm, glowing wine, the unpalatable oyster, more wine, low-cut Lily, more wine, dancing with Chris, kissing him.… Kissing him!

Suddenly the pounding in her head seemed the least of her worries. She was afraid to ask him what happened, and afraid not to. More questions, more panic. More panic, more pain. She moaned low, pulling a pillow over her face. “Please. Just go away and let me die in peace.”

She expected some sarcastic reply. When none came, she lifted the pillow and looked toward the doorway. It was empty. “Just my luck,” she muttered, absurdly disappointed. “The one time he takes me seriously is the one time I don’t want him to. When will I learn to keep my big mouth shu—”

“Did you say something?”

She jumped. Chris hadn’t left at all but had just stepped over to the other side of the room near her bureau. Warm relief replaced disappointment. “I thought you’d left.”

His smile reached straight down into her heart. “Since when do I do what you tell me to?”

He retrieved a foam cup from her bureau and brought it to her bedside. “This will make you feel better.”

Melanie eyed the covered cup suspiciously. “What is it?”

Chris sighed. “It’s toxic waste.” Then, at Melanie’s surprised expression, he added, “It’s orange juice, genius. To raise your blood sugar. Just trust me, will you? I’ve cured enough hangovers to know what I’m doing. Relax.”

Relaxing was not an option. Chris settled down on the bed beside her and helped her to a sitting position. Every muscle in her body pulled taut at his touch. She was far too aware of him, of the way her mattress bent under his weight, of the solid yet gentle strength of his arms as he cradled her. Sugarcoated dynamite.

Some women have all the luck, she thought sarcastically as she sipped the cool, sharply sweet liquid. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d fantasized about having Chris Sheffield in her bed, but not one of those fantasies involved him force-feeding her orange juice. Champagne out of a crystal goblet maybe, but not orange juice out of a throwaway cup. The absurdity of the situation struck her, and she smiled.

“Feeling better?”

She raised her head and nodded, omitting the fact that her cure had more to do with his presence than the juice. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem. I picked up the OJ on my way over this morning. To tell you the truth, I needed a cup myself. Seven o’clock’s an early hour in anyone’s book.”

On his way over. Melanie breathed a small sigh of relief. Chris hadn’t spent the night. Her fears about the previous evening partially allayed, she took another sip of orange juice and nestled back against his arm. “Did I really say seven o’clock?”

“You did. I wouldn’t make something like that up.”

“No, I guess n—Hey!” Melanie’s eyes focused on her arm where her movements had caused the comforter to slip away. She was still wearing her blouse. “I’m still in my clothes.”

“Not your skirt.”

Melanie flipped back the bed sheet. Chris was right; she wasn’t wearing her skirt. Anxiety returned.
She didn’t want to ask the next logical question, but her analytical nature demanded it. “How did you know I wasn’t wearing my skirt?”

“Because I took … I mean, I saw it lying on the floor when I came in.”

It wasn’t the truth. A third grader could have seen through the lie, yet Melanie was grateful for it. Chris was trying to save her from feeling even more embarrassed about last evening. Whether his efforts were successful or unsuccessful hardly mattered. The fact that he tried was enough. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

She reached out her free hand and touched his cheek. “For lying.”

He took her hand, stroking warmth into the supple flesh of her palm. She noticed again what large hands he had, how her smaller palm disappeared into his. Yet his touch was infinitely gentle, and his strong fingers curled around her own like a warm memory around her heart. Heat, soft and comforting, radiated through her body, melting away the last of her anxiety. She closed her eyes and burrowed into the solid warmth of his supporting arm.
I could get used to this
, she thought absently.
I could definitely get used to this.

She didn’t get the chance. Abruptly Chris stopped his gentle massage and pulled away. Melanie felt as if the floor had fallen out beneath her. In the scant seconds it took her to recover he’d stood up and taken several steps toward the door.

“Chris?”

“Hey, look at the time. We’d better get started.”

“It’s not even eight,” she protested.

“Yeah, well, no sense waiting until the last minute.”

“No, I guess not,” Melanie said, trying to keep the
disappointment out of her voice. “I’ll meet you in Einstein’s room in fifteen minutes. Okay?”

He didn’t even answer. He just nodded once and left the room, disappearing down the hall with the speed of a nanosecond processor.

“Hell,” Melanie swore as she got out of bed. The oath wasn’t for Chris; it was for her own foolish self. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the reason for his sudden departure. He’d felt her respond to his touch, and was afraid it would lead to a repeat of last night. Her recollections of the night were still hazy, but she could easily imagine he’d spent the better part of the evening fending off her amorous advances. She felt like crawling under a rock!

Well, she wasn’t about to make that mistake again. She might not be able to change the way she felt about Chris, but she could certainly keep those feelings to herself. It was simply a question of mind over matter. In time it would become second nature. In time she’d be able to ignore the fact that his barest touch filled her with the warmth of a noon sun, or that his brandy eyes laced her soul with night desires.…

Some women had all the luck. But she certainly wasn’t one of them.

Chris leaned against the wall of the hallway, taking in deep, ragged breaths. He tried to think cold, sober thoughts, but his mind refused to cooperate. All he could think of was the way he felt when Melanie’s soft, sensuous body melted into his arms. Nuclear reactors had lower temperatures. Whatever havoc she’d stirred up in him last night had returned—with a vengeance.

He knew she’d accepted his caress because it was offered in the spirit of friendship, nothing more. Another minute and she’d have found herself in an
entirely different kind of embrace. It was all he could do to get out of that room before his animal instincts took over.

A half-dozen deep breaths brought his breathing under control, but left his mind in turmoil. His simple business deal had become far more complicated. Now Einstein wasn’t the only thing he wanted from Melanie.

He was crazy to even consider having a relationship with the woman. They were complete opposites. She liked structure, he liked excitement. She planned every step she took, while he leapt before he looked. Oil and vinegar had more chance of getting together than they did.