Sweet Southern Comfort Page 5

  Melanie narrowed her eyes. “Why would she do that?”

  “Could it be she wants you around? How can you have so much power over her?” What he really meant was how could she exert so much power over him?

  Sparks ignited in her eyes. “Power? Simply because I spend time with her? Listen, I’ve had enough of your criticisms. Get out of my house.”

  But he couldn’t leave. Before his mind had time to register his actions, he’d swept Melanie into his arms and covered her lips with his. For a moment she stood immobile. Then her lips melted beneath his, her body curved against his length. The feel of her lips on his, of softness against him sent shock waves of pleasure through him. He couldn’t prevent a deep moan of pleasure.

  And then she was pushing at him. Dropping his arms to his sides, he backed up.

  “You call me a cheat and you kiss me? Am I supposed to be flattered?”

  “Do you think I like this…this attraction that’s between us? I know you feel it as much as I do. Let’s not play games. You want me as much as I want you.”

  “I’m not going to do a thing about it. You can’t call me dishonest, think negative things about me and expect me to welcome your advances. I don’t play that.”

  “Do you think I like the way you’ve intrigued me from the moment I met you?”

  “I rest my case.”

  He massaged the tense muscles in his neck and for a moment he studied her intently. Her fiery angry look reminded him of the night she’d hunted him down at his house. He wanted to see her brown eyes gaze with a completely opposite emotion. He wanted the humor, the warmth she’d impaled him with in the hospital. He wanted…

  What the heck am I thinking?

  “You drive me crazy, you know that? You’ve got half the people here eating out of your hand.” Including him. “How do you do it, Melanie? Do you weave some kind of spell over them?” Before she could respond, he opened the door and disappeared into the night.

  He’d totally lost control. She had to be a witch to have him feeling as if he wanted to go back in and haul her into his arms, take her to bed and spend the night there. He wanted to feel her soft curves beneath his body. Crap.

  What is she doing to me?

  Outside, he welcomed the stark darkness with only the stars glowing their brilliance above as his companions. Only they witnessed how foolish he felt.

  The dewy night air touched his skin and cooled his ardor. He heard the rush of the tides against the lake’s shore. He’d just been swept away by the moment. That was it. A momentary aberration. But he lived and worked in a controlled environment. Lack of control wasn’t in his nature. Yet, he’d lost it with Melanie. And he hated it. Damn her.

  He felt as awkward as a teenager. She turned him inside out. How was he ever going to get her out of his system?

  Chapter 4

  When the door thumped shut behind Monroe, Melanie felt as if an electric shock had blasted through her system. On shaky legs, she fell into a chair and drew in quick breaths.

  It had taken a lot for her to maintain her composure in front of him. Feeling breathless from his kiss, she’d almost wilted like a flower in the evening dew. Rubbing her forehead with the palm of her hand, she waited for her heartbeat to settle to a normal rhythm.

  Gosh, that man could turn her on like a key in an ignition. Had her motor started and roaring. The desire shooting through her was sharp and immediate—and strange and, darn it, unwelcome—especially for somebody like him. He called her a cheat, then kissed the living daylights out of her, and she had the nerve to respond like some needy featherbrain who couldn’t get enough.

  At least she’d sent him packing, but not soon enough. Not until after his soft lips had covered hers, not before she’d wanted to hold on to him and never let go.

  He must be very satisfied with his performance.

  She’d seen the anger in his eyes when she’d thrown him out. But she’d seen something else, too. Was the brief flash of pain in Monroe’s eyes before he’d left a figment of her imagination? Don’t be silly. Of course there was no pain. She was reading him all wrong.

  She wasn’t about to get tangled with a man who not only distrusted her, but disliked her. She shivered, a chill racing across her skin at the memory of the look he’d given her in the bookstore the week before.

  Unfortunately, the memory of that brief kiss crept into her mind just as easily.

  She finally left the chair and headed to the kitchen. At the sink, she wet a paper towel and pressed it against her hot cheeks. It didn’t stop the tingling need from raging through her system.

  In the last two years Melanie had focused on making a life for her daughter. Any desire, any need was ruthlessly channeled into her work. By the time she’d left her husband, the last thing she’d wanted was another man trying to guide her life. Although she’d been asked out on dates, the drive to get a man just wasn’t there—until now. Now, when the most unlikely man turned her on. Go figure.

  Enough of that. There was plenty of work to do. Melanie went to the back of the garage to the utility room where the washer and dryer were located. She gathered the clothes she’d left in the dryer that morning, put them on the table and began to fold them.

  “Mama?”

  “I’m out here in the laundry room.”

  Courtney came outside, her sour face wreathed in a frown. “We’re going to lose another game tomorrow. I don’t feel like playing. Do I have to go?”

  “You can’t let your team down, honey.”

  “We haven’t won any games. It’s not that we lose that’s so bad, it’s that we lose so bad. They won ten zip the last game. We were losing so bad the umpire wouldn’t let us play the whole game.”

  “Honey, things will get better. Trust me. You can’t win them all.”

  Nobody revealed disappointment like a child. Melanie rubbed Courtney’s arm, wishing she could do something to help.

  Courtney’s demeanor changed. “A coach who knows soccer would help.”

  “Mr. Roberts is doing his best. You should appreciate his generosity.”

  Courtney looked disgusted. “Mom, you always say good things about people even when they’re terrible.”

  Melanie wasn’t feeling favorable things about Monroe right then—or herself for that matter. Fortunately for her, Courtney couldn’t read her mind.

  “Mr. Roberts gives his time because you girls want to play. You have to be grateful he’s willing to coach.”

  “I should have known better than to talk to you.” Courtney stomped back inside.

  Well, that went well. Although Melanie had to admit, it had to be daunting when you lost every game as badly as the girls did. But at least the Carson and Hicks girls played together. Well, maybe not together. Their positions had been chosen by the family. Hickses played fullback. Carsons played forward. Melanie shook her head. She wished she knew soccer well enough to coach, and she wished the girls would mingle better. But Joe Roberts wasn’t about to breach the feud. The town was too small to support two soccer teams.

  Melanie spent the rest of the time she folded clothes thinking about what was really important—not Monroe’s lips, or the feel of his arms around her. Not the strength of his warm body pressed against hers, or the aroma of his enticing cologne.

  The important issue was how on earth was she going to convince him not to sell the plaza?

  But her mind couldn’t help tripping to the bleak expression in Monroe’s eyes just before he’d left her house. He’d looked so alone, so…She couldn’t describe him. She didn’t know his story. Only that his wife had left him. She wondered if bitterness had resulted from the divorce. And if the renters at the plaza were paying the price for it.

  How should he ever prove how sorry he was? Monday morning, on his way to the lawyer’s office located in Summer Lake’s tiny excuse of a downtown, Monroe stopped in front of the cut-flower area of the hardware store. The town was too small for a stand-alone flower shop. Tucked in a little corner was
a counter and a refrigerated flower case. The gardening area was nearby and hardy perennials and annuals were set out on skids ready for sale.

  For the last two nights, Monroe had tossed and turned, thinking of Melanie’s soft curves beneath his hands. Tasting the sweetness of her lips was better than chocolate, and memories of those lips had stolen his sleep.

  He’d expected to see her in church Sunday, but she’d been suspiciously missing. Coming to a decision, he strolled to the counter where the smiling clerk assured him any flower arrangement he chose would be delivered to Melanie before noon.

  With that done, he left and soon entered his grandmother’s lawyer’s office. The secretary immediately sent him into Trent Townsend’s office.

  Monroe knew Trent from summers spent at his grandmother’s. Monroe had hung out with Trent’s older brother, Evan.

  “Good to see you, Monroe. You’re making a stranger of yourself.”

  “I wish. Unfortunately, the people here won’t let me.”

  “You were always the loner. Evan had to drag you away from the computer and out of the house when we were kids.”

  “How are your parents and your brother?”

  “Dad’s enjoying his retirement, and Evan’s got a practice in California. Dad was talking about retiring to Florida until Mom convinced him South Carolina was as far south as she was going. She doesn’t want to move away from family.”

  “I imagine not.”

  “More likely, she’s hoping for grandkids. To her great disappointment, neither of us is married yet.”

  Marriage was Monroe’s least favorite subject, even as Melanie’s face popped into his mind.

  “So what brings you to my office?”

  “I wanted to discuss the rental agreement with Village Square tenants.” Even now, when she was cheating his grandmother, he couldn’t keep his mind off that woman. Had him hopping to the hardware store for flowers first thing in the morning. He remembered her taste, her scent, the soft texture of her hair and skin. He remembered everything.

  “Since your grandmother arranged for your power of attorney a while ago, I can discuss it with you,” Trent said, yanking Monroe out of his musings. “Exactly what concerns you?”

  Monroe switched gears. “I’m concerned about the amount they pay for monthly rent.”

  Trent nodded. “They can’t afford the actual fee at this point, at least most of them can’t. This is a small town, Monroe. Your grandmother felt they would have a better chance of success if she allowed them to pay a reduced fee for the first two years, to give them a chance to get on their feet. I made sure the conditions of the contracts protected your grandmother.”

  Monroe scrubbed a hand over his head. “Handling the building of the center, and now the maintenance and everything else, is too much for her. Probably gave her the stroke in the first place.”

  “She never was one to sit still. You know that. If she wasn’t involved in the plaza, she’d find something else to stir up. Maybe even run for mayor or something. You should have seen them in the city-council meetings. I thought she was going to attack the mayor.” Trent laughed, shaking his head at some image. Monroe could just imagine the show Eudora had put on. “She’s just a little wisp of a woman, but she yields a lot of power. I think she frightens the mayor. Are you going to stay a while and help her?”

  Monroe nodded. “I want to make sure she’s on her feet before I leave.”

  “Why don’t you come to dinner Sunday? Mom has been asking about you.”

  Monroe stood. He wasn’t in the mood to be entertained. “I’ll let you know.”

  Monroe left the office and stopped by the drugstore. Mrs. Seaborn had called him earlier, asking if he would pick up her medication. Her pressure was up, she’d said, and the doctor wanted her to take it easy for a few days. Before she’d hung up, she’d informed him about her swollen ankles, the low-grade headache and several other miseries and ailments. He shook his head. More info than he needed.

  When he opened the door, it seemed there were just too many people lolling about for it to be a Monday morning. He made his way to the prescription counter. The druggist hadn’t filled the prescription yet, so he perused the card section as he waited.

  Now that he’d made a complete fool of himself with Melanie—again—he’d have to apologize for calling her a cheat.

  He felt several people gawking at him. He spoke to the ones he knew. The thing he liked most about cities was anonymity. He found the nosy people in small towns hard to take.

  “Go over there and invite him to Sunday dinner,” Fanny Taylor told her twenty-one-year-old daughter. They were standing near the cold medicine.

  Monroe knew exactly who him was.

  “I am not. Besides, I’m going to be late for class. If Dorian divorced him, then something must be wrong with him. He’s old and grouchy.”

  “Power takes years off a man, girl. And he’s rich,” Fanny’s twin, Flossy, said. “With that kind of money you can put up with a few imperfections.”

  The Taylor sisters. The only twins in town, and although they were both married, when you saw one, you usually saw the other. Only Fanny had children, but each woman played the mother figure.

  “Plus he’s mean. He’s always scowling.”

  “Pearl Seaborn says he’s okay. She wouldn’t lie about a thing like that,” Fanny assured her. “She sees him nearly every day.”

  “His grandfather was a gentle man,” Flossy said. “The chip doesn’t fall too far from the block. Now, do like we said. Go over there and invite him to dinner.”

  “I’m not that desperate,” the girl said.

  “Listen here. I’m going to find you a good man if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Enough already. He couldn’t even go to the drugstore in peace. He couldn’t leave this town soon enough.

  When the youngster started toward Monroe, he glared at her until she backed up. She cut her eyes at him and marched away.

  Something caught Monroe’s peripheral vision. Melanie. She frowned at him. With a bag in her hand, she started walking toward him.

  “Just stop it. You don’t have to frighten her with your bad disposition.”

  The young woman had hastened over to her mother. The two women and the daughter were now glaring at him. She didn’t look frightened to him. She looked as if she’d rather take a crowbar to his skull than speak to him again.

  Melanie smiled at them. “Hello. On your way to school, Bridgett?”

  Bridgett nodded, but the sisters just glared at Melanie. She turned back to Monroe.

  “If you don’t want to be around people, why are you here?”

  “Picking up medication for Mrs. Seaborn.” His sigh was long. “You have a nice dish of crow for me to eat? I seem to always be on your bad list.”

  “Do I have to cook it or will you?”

  “Definitely you.”

  “And why are you eating crow?” Melanie asked.

  “I apologize for saying you cheated my grandmother. I talked to her lawyer.”

  “Well, good.”

  “And I apologize for kissing you the other night, although…” All he saw was that I told you so smirk on her face. And the V in her blouse showing just a sliver of her breasts, enough to keep his imagination running wild. Her gold necklace dangled just a bit above it. More than anything, he wanted to hold her.

  The prettiest velvet brown eyes he’d ever seen met his. “Although what?” she asked.

  For a moment he forgot what he was going to say.

  He started to say he wanted to kiss her again as much as he had that night, but he shook his head. “Nothing.”

  The woman at the cash register cleared her throat. “Mr. Bedford?”

  Monroe turned to her. “Yes?”

  “Mrs. Seaborn’s prescription is ready.”

  “I’ll see you later,” Melanie said. Monroe paid for the prescription, but by the time he’d done so, the Taylor sisters were bearing down on Melanie.

  W
hile Melanie was searching for rubbing alcohol for Courtney’s mosquito bites, the sisters cornered her.

  “I heard you’re spending time with Monroe,” Fanny said, her features pinched with concern.

  “Are you dating him?” Flossy asked, her hands on her narrow hips.

  “No…”

  “Good.” Fanny nodded and smiled. “Have a good day.” Pleased, they marched off toward the daughter.

  Melanie wouldn’t dare identify the twinge of jealousy she felt at the thought of Monroe dating Fanny’s daughter.

  “Hum,” Melanie heard an unidentified voice mutter just as she was about to go to the cash register. “I don’t know why she wants her daughter to marry him. He’s as evil as he can be. I wouldn’t want my daughter anywhere near him. He thinks just because he’s rich he can do anything he wants to. Isn’t that right, Melanie?”

  Melanie glanced at the woman. “No, I don’t believe he’s uncaring.”

  “He’s trying to put you out of business. I don’t see how you can defend him.”

  “He’s concerned about his grandmother. I really have to go.”

  Melanie didn’t believe in gossip. She headed to the cash register. Although she didn’t want her shop sold, she didn’t believe for a moment there was a sinister reason for Monroe’s selling. Maybe he was cold, but not sinister. He’d truthfully believed his grandmother was being cheated. While she chafed at being called a cheat, she couldn’t slander him, either.

  Melanie thought of what her daughter had said Saturday night. That she always tried to see the best in people. Maybe she was too forgiving for her own good.

  At eleven-thirty, Melanie was helping Gail choose a book for her niece when a woman came into the store carrying a huge vase of gorgeous flowers.

  “I had to bring these over myself,” she said.

  “Who are they for?” Gail asked.

  “For Melanie. Mr. Bedford stopped by this morning and picked them out for her. The most expensive arrangement in the store. You have some news to tell us?” She looked at Melanie expectantly.

  “No.”

  Gail’s eyebrows climbed high on her forehead. “Do you have something to tell me?”