Chapter Nine

Mel bit into her turkey-and-Swiss sandwich at lunch on Monday and chewed as she scrolled down the page on her computer screen. Adam still hadn’t called, but she wanted to be ready when he did. And her search for clubs in Indy had been quite interesting. She remembered several of the names from conversations between her brother and Adam, and there was one in particular…

The Tipsy Wench. That’s the one she’d heard about most. That’s where she’d ask Adam to take her the next time she talked to him. Whenever that might be.

He’d been acting squirrely again when he’d left her parents’ house yesterday. Wild and wary and way too cagey. She’d let him go, of course, because what else could she do with her mom and dad and James all listening in nearby. But man, oh man, she’d wanted to go after him. Especially after the way he’d kept staring at her butt in those jeans and how his gaze had flickered down the front of her top whenever she’d leaned over to hand him something.

Yep, he was definitely interested, even if he was too stubborn to admit it.

She hit print on the name and address of the Indy pub she’d chosen, then walked over to their ancient secondhand printer to grab it. The automatic doors at the library entrance swished open. She spoke without looking over to see who’d come in. “Welcome to the Point Beacon Public Library. Please let me know if there’s anything I can help you find.”

“How about my sanity?” Adam’s voice had her whirling around fast, clutching the printer paper to her chest.

Eyes wide, Mel forced a smile she hoped didn’t look as nervous as she felt. Adam had never come to her library before, at least not that she remembered. “Hey! This is a surprise.”

She was going for easy and nonchalant, but the words sounded jittery instead. “I thought you were going to call.”

He shrugged, drawing her attention to his broad shoulders, the play of muscle beneath the soft dark cotton of his T-shirt. “Figured face-to-face was better.”

Face-to-face was way better and gave her all sorts of naughty ideas. She swallowed hard around the lump of want in her throat. The room seemed warmer than it had moments earlier, and the atmosphere in the library changed from subdued to sizzling. Her gaze moved from his shoulders to his biceps as he ran a hand through his hair. The hint of a tattoo peeked out from under the edge of his sleeve, the United States Army insignia. James had the same one, same spot, too. There was a trace of grease under Adam’s nails and streaks of dirt on his faded jeans, which only highlighted his strong thighs and trim hips. And those eyes. They seemed bluer today, his small smile sexier, if that were possible.

God give me strength not to jump him right now.

Mel licked her lips and didn’t miss the way his gaze tracked the tiny movement.

Because they’d been short a volunteer or two today, Mel had stayed in for lunch and eaten at the circulation desk to make sure they were covered for any patrons who might need help. Technically, food or drinks weren’t allowed in the library, but a girl needed sustenance.

Adam glanced at her plastic containers and frowned. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt your lunch.”

“It’s fine.” She gave another look around to confirm she and Adam were alone. “What did you need?”

“I, uh…” He seemed a bit flustered, which only made her heart flutter anew. He shuffled his feet, then peered at her computer screen. “Are you looking up the Tipsy Wench?”

“Yeah. I remembered you and James talking about it.” She turned back to minimize her computer screen and felt Adam come up behind her. Only staff were usually allowed behind the circulation desk, but Adam had never been one to follow the rules. The hint of forbidden made Mel shiver with need. He rested his palms on either side of her on the edge of the counter, caging her in again like he had that night at the bar. His warm, solid front pressed lightly against her back, and his clean sandalwood scent surrounded her once more. Mel’s breath quickened, and she nearly swooned at the thought of him pressing against her, skin to skin.

Yep. She’d been reading way too many romance novels again.

“Is this where you want me to take you?” His warm words tickled the shell of her ear.

It took Mel a minute to realize he was asking about the bar and not…other things. She’d never look at the circulation desk the same way again. Not trusting herself to speak, Mel nodded.

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

Was it her imagination, or had his hips pressed against her more firmly when he’d said that? She closed her eyes, breathing deep to calm her raging pulse. “Yes. I’m ready.”

He didn’t respond for a couple beats, and she turned slightly to look at him over her shoulder. The move must’ve caught him off guard because his lips brushed her cheek, they were standing so close.

Adam stepped back, crossing his arms. “I’m still not sure this is a good idea, Mel. The Tipsy Wench isn’t exactly an upstanding kind of place.”

“You promised to help me hook up. Where do you suggest we do that? The frozen food aisle at the grocery store?” She matched his guarded body position, not giving an inch, desire still thrumming through her veins. “If you don’t want to go with me, that’s fine. I’m sure I can talk Lilly into it.”

“No.” Adam shook his head, his frown deepening. “You’re not going there with Lilly.”

“Huh.” She made a show of considering his statement. “Last time I checked you weren’t my boss.”

“You’re right. I’m your partner in this damned project, and that means I should have a say in how we progress.” His blue eyes turned stormy. “I don’t like the idea of you in some bar alone.”

Adrenaline and anger surged through her bloodstream. Mel closed the distance between them, irritation rising. She was tired of him denying the chemistry between them and tired of trying to live up to what everyone else thought she should be. Mel wanted to do what she wanted for once. “Yeah? Well, if you’re so worried, then I’d suggest you come with me.”

To her shock, he gave a curt nod. “I will.”

Her stomach went into free fall. After days of dancing around each other, he gave in that easily? What the heck?

Before she could ask, he continued. “I’ll be your silent protector, keeping the riffraff away. We can play some darts, have a few beers. It’ll be fun.”

Ugh. Fun. Mel groaned and turned away. “Forget it. Watching paint dry sounds more exciting. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“No, you need advice, right?” Adam dipped his head to catch her eye. “C’mon, Mel. It would make me feel better knowing someone was there to watch over you.”

“Why? Because James asked you to?”

“No. Because I want to be there.”

“Seriously? Since when? Yesterday you couldn’t get away from me fast enough. Same thing Friday night when we kissed. Look, I get you and my brother are friends, and the last thing I want to do is cause problems between the two of you, but—”

“Don’t worry about James and me. This will all be over by the time he gets home anyway. He’ll never have to know.”

The truth of his statement dampened her enthusiasm a bit, but she refused to let this go. He’d agreed to take her out. To a bar. Not officially a date, but closer than they’d gotten so far. The thought thrilled her way more than it should. “Okay. We’ll go to the Tipsy Wench together.”

Adam’s tense posture visibly relaxed. “When?”

“This Friday,” Mel said, butterflies swarming inside her. “Pick me up at six. I think we should probably get hotel rooms for the night, too. It’s a long way home, and it’ll probably be late by the time we’re done. Smarter to stay in Indy and return the next morning.”

He nodded and walked out without another word, leaving her to stare after him.

Friday could definitely not come soon enough.

…

The classic cover band in the bar rocked out their version of “Enter Sandman” by Metallica, and Adam took another swig of his dark lager, torn between staying and leaving. While he’d come to the Tipsy Wench on occasion with James before they’d enlisted, and now with the guys from Victory Vets, this wasn’t his usual type of hangout for dates. It was a bit too rough and trashy for polite conversation—or conversation at all, really. It used to be a cool neighborhood hangout, more pub than club. Now, though, it was a trendy dive-bar nightmare, filled by hipsters with man buns and tight jeans, wannabe Goths, and metalheads in heavy spikes and chains, lots of fauxhawks and black clothes and eyeliner. So. Much. Eyeliner.

Mel sat beside him on a stool, taking it all in like a kid on their first trip to Disneyland. She’d wanted Adam to stay out of sight in a corner, but he’d insisted on being at the bar where he could keep an eye on everything. Yes, he was supposed to be here as her coach, but the idea of one of these guys approaching her—or worse, her approaching them—made his head pound. He might not be an actual scary biker, but he could sure as hell fool these idiots into thinking he was. And if that kept some random dude from messing with his Mel, so be it.

“What about him?” she asked, pointing toward a guy across the room with hair that stood at least two feet high and a painful-looking fishhook through his lip. “He seems interesting.”

Adam could think of another word for it but didn’t go there. Instead, he shook his head. “Not him. He’s wearing more makeup than you.”

“Oh.” Mel frowned. “He’s kind of cute, though. Besides, I do like a bad boy.”

He grunted, swallowing the words that teetered on the tip of his tongue.

Then you’ll love me.

He didn’t want Mel loving him. Didn’t want love at all.

Right?

Bad enough she’d crushed on him all these years. What she needed was a nice, quiet, boring guy who’d keep her safe and secure at home. Maybe an insurance salesman or an accountant. Unfortunately, that type was nonexistent in this place. Adam drained the rest of his lager and set the bottle on the bar. “Since there aren’t any good prospects at the moment, how about a lesson instead?”

“In what?”

“Small talk.”

“Small talk?”

“Yeah. Banter. Flirting. Verbal foreplay.” Okay, yeah. Maybe not that last one. He mentally punched himself for going down that road, but it was too late now. “You’ll have to talk to this mystery man at some point to get him into your bed, right? Unless you pay him.”

“Funny.” The flat look she gave him said the exact opposite. “Fine. Teach me to flirt.”

“Well, first off, glaring at your target is a definite turnoff,” he said, chuckling.

Mel pressed closer to him and batted her eyelashes. “How about this instead?”

“Uh, coming on too strong is almost as bad.” He straightened to put some space between them. At this point, she could do just about anything and he’d find it irresistible, but that wasn’t helpful, so he focused on the task at hand instead, ignoring her disappointed look. “You said you wanted to learn. So, no throwing yourself at guys, unless a hookup is all you really want.”

With a sigh, she plopped back onto her stool and crossed her arms. “Go on.”

Adam steeled himself for what was ahead. “Great. Now look at me like you’re interested. Five-second rule.”

She frowned. “The what rule?”

“The five-second rule. Basically, when you find someone you’re attracted to at a party or whatever, you hold their gaze for five seconds. If they come over, they’re interested. If not, then they aren’t into you or they’re married or taken.”

Mel stared at him, more zombie than hot-chick-looking-for-a-mate, her expression blank.

“And that brings us to the next pointer. Smile. Makes you look more confident.” He gestured to the bartender for another lager, then took a swig. “Plus, you have a great grin. Brings out your adorable dimples.”

“You think I have a great grin?” she said, her whole face lighting up, going from pretty to gorgeous. “That’s so sweet.”

Heat prickled up from beneath the collar of Adam’s shirt, and his pulse raced. “Uh, yeah. You know you’re beautiful, so just stop.”

“Ha! Worked!” She winked at him, and Adam felt another one of the barriers around his heart crumble even though he’d walked right into that one. Mel nudged him with her elbow. “Next flirting tip, please.”

“This one might be harder for you, since you seem set on changing your persona, but be who you are. Don’t pretend to be dumb or something you’re not to make him like you. The right guy will love your intelligence and drive and strength, not be intimidated by them.”

Mel gave him a pointed stare. “I’m not changing myself for a man. I’m changing myself for me, thank you very much. If the right guy happens to come along with the package, fine. And I refuse to play dumb for anyone. I’ve got the mountain of student loan debt and a graduate degree to prove it.”

It was his turn to frown. “Sorry. I didn’t mean any offense.”

“None taken. Just don’t assume you can tell me what to do. I get enough of that from James. We’re partners in this, remember?”

“Understood.” He tipped his bottle to her. “Moving on. If you find a guy and you think he’s the right one, don’t be afraid to take charge. Make it clear you’re interested and get his number. If you say you’re going to call, then call. And don’t shy away from physical contact. Touch his arm, put your hand on his shoulder, brush legs with him under the table, that sort of stuff.”

Mel shifted on her stool, running her foot up the side of his ankle, the caress going straight to his already overactive libido. She gave him an innocent look. “Like that?”

“Uh, yeah,” he managed to squeak out, several octaves higher than his usual baritone. “That’s it. Maybe a little subtler, especially at first.”

“Sure.” She leaned closer and stroked his bare forearm, light touches that had him biting back a tiny groan of pleasure. It had been so long, too long, since anyone had touched him like that—softly, tenderly, reverently. Then she broke the spell. “Time to practice. What about him?”

Mel pointed to a new dude who’d walked in. He was standing near the corner of the room, playing darts with two other guys with more piercings than Adam could count. They were dressed in low-slung jeans and faded concert T-shirts and sported ink on their hands and cheeks. Adam had seen the same designs on a couple of guys in his platoon. Prison tats. Based on the ill fit of new arrival’s suit jacket and the company he kept, he’d bet money the dude had just come from a court appearance.

“Uh, that would be a definite nope.”

“Why?” Mel scowled. “He looks very professional.”

A professional criminal, maybe.

Adam snorted. “Not your type. Unless you like them from Cell Block C.”

Mel gave him a peeved stare. “Cut the crap. You’ve seen the guy one time from across the room. You don’t know anything about him.”

“I know his suit probably came from the thrift shop, based on how badly it fits. I know the tats on his buddies are symbols for how long their sentences were. And I know James would kill me if I let you get within five feet of that guy.” He stood and fished his wallet out of his back pocket. “Come on, Mel. Let’s get out of here.”

“No. I’m not ready yet.” She lifted her glass tumbler and waggled it at him. “I still have booze left, and I haven’t met my quota.”

“Quota?”

“Yes. I promised myself I’d talk to at least one new guy tonight.” She patted her hair, which she’d worn up, with a few loose strands hanging down around her neck to give Adam all sorts of ideas. He looked away fast.

Having her on his bike all the way here had been heaven and hell all rolled into one—the way her curves pressed against his back, the way her arms wrapped around his waist, the way her fingers gripped the front of his shirt as if she’d never let go. Adam shook off his forbidden lust and dropped back down on his stool. “Stop fussing. Your hair still looks perfect. Same as when we left your house earlier.”

One of the waitresses, a buxom blonde dressed in the standard Tipsy Wench uniform of leather mini and tight fuchsia tank top, strutted by, giving Adam a wink. Mel shot visual daggers at him again.

Jeez. Seemed he was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. Leaning his elbows back on the edge of the bar, he checked out the crowd. “I don’t think you’re going to find what you’re looking for in this place, Mel.”

“How do you know? Maybe I’m in the mood for a quick booty call.”

He busted out laughing. “Where’d you learn about booty calls?”

“I’m going to be twenty-five, Adam. Not two hundred and five. Just because I’ve never had one doesn’t mean I don’t know what they are. I read Cosmo.”

“I know you do. I saw the evidence on your coffee table the other night.” He went ahead and handed the bartender a fifty to cover a twelve-dollar tab. He could afford to be generous. He made good money at Victory Vets, and he rarely spent any of it. Too busy these days. Adam took another long swig of lager and watched Mel, enjoying the way her cheeks pinkened under his gaze. “Dang. I knew you wanted to change, but I didn’t realize you were a frisky girl at heart.”

“I’m full of all sorts of surprises.” She narrowed her eyes and nursed her gin and tonic. She’d originally tried to order wine, but this really wasn’t that kind of place, so Adam had changed it for her, telling her to drink it slowly to keep from getting hammered. She wrinkled her nose and set the booze aside. “Or maybe this place brings out my wild side. Rawr.”

Her cheeky growl was meant to be funny, but he couldn’t shake the awareness searing through his bloodstream, burning away his common sense. She leaned closer to say, “I’m glad you’re here. To be my wingman.”

He looked at her. “I’m your wingman?”

“Yep.”

Adam moved closer as well, so close his breath stirred the wisps of hair at her temples. “Then as your wingman, I’m telling you this place is dead. If you’re so determined to hook up, let’s try someplace else.”

Her shoulders sagged slightly. “I think you’re missing the potential—”

“There is no potential here.” He set aside his half-full second lager and stood once more, taking her hand. “C’mon, Mel. I know we’ve got a deadline on this project, but nobody here is even remotely good enough for you.”

Myself included.

Mel downed another gulp of her drink as the cover band started playing a sappy rendition of “Sister Christian.” She slipped her hand in his. “Oh, I love this song. One dance, before we go. Please?”

He should have said no, should have pulled her outside and onto his bike and headed for the safe, familiar confines of their separate hotel rooms. But instead, he let Mel lead him out onto the crowded dance floor. The small space was so full, they had no choice but to press together to avoid bumping into anyone else. That’s the excuse Adam was going with, anyway.

As the music played and Mel’s delectable body swayed in time with his, he did his best to hold on to his barriers, hold on to his long-held inhibitions, but felt them slipping fast. Her fingers twined around his neck and into the hair at his nape, making him shudder and swallow hard. He gripped the silky material of the sexy purple shirt she’d worn over a short black skirt.

This was wrong, so wrong. And yet it felt so, so right.

Another couple brushed past them, and Adam pulled Mel even closer to keep her from getting stepped on. She looked up at him, her eyes dreamy and soft, her full lips parted, and he couldn’t look away, not if his life depended on it.

Time seemed to slow as the space between them disappeared and his lips were on hers.

God help him, he’d wanted to kiss her again since that night in her foyer. One taste of her hadn’t been enough, would never be enough. The last of his defenses vanished as he tightened his arms around her and she relaxed into him, lifting her chin and opening her mouth to give him better access.

He shouldn’t be doing this, but he’d wanted nothing more all night. Hell, all week. He didn’t want to get involved with Mel, didn’t want to fall in love, but he couldn’t stay away. Every look, every touch drew him further and further under her spell. Her fingers slid upward, clutching his hair and making him imagine how she might use those hands on him elsewhere…

Her soft moan sent a fresh wave of desire through him, and he had to break away for fear of taking things too far, too fast. His breath was heavy, and his hands were shaking with need, but he had to stop. They had to stop. Not because he wanted to, but because he didn’t want Mel’s first time to be in some dark corner of a seedy bar. She was far too precious for that.

Adam licked his lips and tasted her there—sweet liquor and sinful desire. She reached for him again, to pull him in for another kiss, but he caught her and pulled her forehead down to his chest. He wanted seconds on that kiss, man did he want seconds. Thirds, fourths, and fifths, too, truth be told. Her panting breaths only encouraged him to go for it, but he wouldn’t.

Not here. He didn’t want an audience.

Mel pulled back and looked up at him, her expression an odd mix of want and confusion.

He couldn’t help running his thumb over her bottom lip. Big mistake. Her eyes darkened, and her lashes fluttered, and for a moment he forgot where he was, forgot who he was, forgot everything except her, in his arms.

Mine.

He’d never been an alpha sort of guy before, but damn if Mel didn’t bring out that side in him. He didn’t want her dating other men, test-driving them, and he certainly didn’t want her sleeping with anyone else. And yeah, he’d promised James to watch out for her, but he’d deal with that situation later. Right now, all Adam cared about was Mel. If she wanted to learn how to please a man, he’d do the job.

Mel was ready; so was he. Both of them were willing, and both of them were adults.

Still, he needed to be sure.

Adam gently placed one hand on her shoulder and used the other to tip her chin up until she met his gaze. “Mel, I want to take you to bed. Is that what you want, too?”

In answer, she kissed him again, deeply, her body melting into his. His hands slid from her shoulders to her lower back to finally cup her butt. She smiled into their kiss, and this time he was the one melting.

At last, Mel pulled back. “There’s only ever been one man in this room I wanted, but I didn’t think you wanted me—”

He leaned back far enough to see her face. “Believe me, Mel. Wanting you was never the problem.”

She nodded, her lips parted. “What changed?”

“I don’t know.” The music ended, and the dance floor started to clear. “It started that night at the Black Dog, then the makeover, then the kiss, now tonight. I’ve either made up my mind or I’ve lost it completely.”

Her seductive laugh coiled inside him, tightening the knot of tension aching in his gut. She felt so warm and soft and perfect in his arms, and it had been so, so long since he’d had more than a meaningless one-night stand. He’d had well under his limit of lager tonight, but he felt drunk on her. Mel’s lopsided grin sent him over the edge. He pulled her in and kissed her once more—testing, tasting, teasing. She traced his jaw with one finger, a delicate touch that made him forget where they were and who he was. All he knew was he couldn’t take much more of this exquisite torture. His body ached with anticipation, and they needed to get back to their hotel. Fast.

She broke their kiss, gazing up at him with eyes full of promise. Never in his life had Adam wanted a woman as much as he wanted Mel. The thought both thrilled and terrified him. Before he could bolt, she smiled softly and took his hand. “Let’s go back to our room.”