Right Before His Eyes (14 page)

Bart lost himself in kissing her back, in opening up a heart that had forever held itself apart from the women with whom he played and flirted, danced and frolicked.

This was not a playful kiss. This one was serious and unnerving to him, as well. Love was nothing he'd ever counted on, never desired for himself. Love made you stupid, made you rash and kept you from protecting yourself—witness what his mother had suffered because she'd given her all in the name of a love that hadn't been returned.

But here was Mellie, so sweet, so vulnerable, so open in this moment of terrible beauty and aching vulnerability.

Maybe love did make you defenseless, but if this small woman, so tender and breakable, could open herself to him, could he do any less in return?

So Bart hugged Mellie close to the body that was aching to make her his, to bind her to him as he'd never considered doing with a woman before. Then he turned the kiss from tender to torrid.

Mellie flew right along with him. He could have easily laid her down right there. He was so hot for her, so ready—

Bart grabbed ruthlessly to the reins of self-control and forced himself down from the half-mad beast driven to claim his mate. His heart was pounding nearly out of his chest as he uncurled his fingers, one by one, until he'd relaxed the savage hold he had on her.

But he didn't let go. Instead he held her close, his much larger frame shuddering from the force of his need for her. “I'm going to count to ten, sweetheart,” he murmured to the woman clasped tightly in his arms. “And somehow, I'm going to manage to make myself
let go, at least long enough to get us the hell out of here and into a proper bed.”

Her fingers dug into his back. “Okay,” she said against his chest, and the heat of her breath nearly undid all his resolutions. “We can do this.”

Bart found himself, of all things, smiling. “Yeah, maybe,” he said into her hair. “But oh, babe, you have no idea how much I want to make love to you right here and right now.”

Another press of fingers, and Bart had to force his eyes open and stare at the bulkhead across from them, reminding himself that the crew was outside the plane. He just barely managed to restrain himself.

He wanted time—lots of it—and privacy for what would come next. “Okay, ten…nine…”

Mellie giggled, of all things, then joined him. “Eight…seven…”

It helped his ego that she seemed to be having as tough a time as he was prying her body from his.

The second they said “one” in unison, he grasped her hand, grabbed his bag and said, “Let's scram.”

Mellie grinned and raced to catch up with his long stride.

 

T
HEY NEVER MADE IT TO DINNER.

Bart could not have cared less. As he laid Mellie down on his king-size bed, all he was hungry for was her.

She watched him with wide eyes, her moves at first hesitant as though she truly were inexperienced, but somehow that only made him feel more tender toward her, more resolved to see that he treated her to all the pleasures possible. He teased her with soft kisses, taunted her with skilled fingers, made it his business
to drive her beyond the point where that busy brain could keep thinking, to where she could only feel, only want, only need.

Where she was as crazed for him as he was for her.

Bart resolved that this was only the beginning of who they would be together. He would bind her to him with glorious pleasures, and she would never again shy away from his touch, from the ecstasy he could give her.

One day soon, he vowed, she would bare that frightened heart and give it into his keeping, too. Then Bart himself quit thinking and planning and abandoned himself to the sheer splendor that was Mellie.

And if, for a moment, a niggling sense of something unexpected nearly made him stop, the sheer joy of her passionate response quickly tumbled him back into the magic that was Mellie.

M
ELLIE CREPT FROM
B
ART'S CONDO
before dawn, grateful that she'd insisted on following him in her car. She'd cast one last glimpse at him, sprawled in his bed, and it was all she could do not to weep.

The night had been beyond anything she'd ever imagined. In her wildest dreams, she'd never had a clue why people lost their minds over sex.

Though this hadn't been just sex, not for her. If she'd been halfway in love with Bart before, that had only been because fear had been the brake.

But now that she knew what it was like to give herself completely to another, to feel that abandon returned…

Maybe he didn't notice. They say a man can't always tell.

Idly she wondered exactly who
they
were as she drove back to her apartment, thankful that she had a few hours before she had to pick up Lily.

How would she know if Bart had realized this was her first time? And what would she do if he had? He would rightly want answers she wasn't prepared to give—couldn't give and keep him from being hurt by his father's actions.

How she wished she could talk to someone to help her sort out her feelings! Sheila was the only person she could remotely imagine discussing them with, though,
and Sheila was walking around in a fog of misery after her breakup with Gil.

Bart had been so tender, so caring. No woman could have ever had a better, more beautiful first time. Bart was so much more than his handsome exterior.

Had she given him the kind of night such a generous lover deserved? He'd been clear how much he wanted her, but would this night make him happy or complicate his life?

Oh, how she hoped not. He was kind and smart and funny…to say nothing of scorching-hot sexy. A part of her desperately wanted to be back in that bed with him, but he'd stripped her heart open and made her want so much more with him—more time to be selfish with him, a future she had no right to long for—and she needed to think, away from the potent distraction he presented.

First, she had to get herself together. Quit mooning over a man she couldn't have.

One who had too much on his mind already. If she'd had an ounce of self-control, she would have resisted him last night, for his own good.

But what red-blooded woman could possibly resist a beautiful man like Bart Branch?

She was so confused. Mellie parked her car behind the diner, grateful that even Al wouldn't have arrived yet. She would go up the stairs, grab a shower and fall into bed for a couple of hours before she had to face the day.

Even if she really didn't want to wash away the traces of the most magical night of her life, not yet.

She would sleep first, she decided. Then maybe she would awake refreshed and know what to do. She stuck her key in the lock, but the door sagged open before she could turn it.

Mellie stood frozen on the landing as she tried to absorb the sight before her, the carnage, the devastation.

They've found us,
was all she could think.
Whoever they are. It's happening again.

Then she began shaking.

 

B
ART SLAMMED INTO HIS TRUCK
and threw it into gear.

She'd lied to him…and run. In the clear light of morning, he'd understood his momentary hesitation last night. And the night's magic had vanished in a cloud of disillusionment.

You can run, Mellie, but you won't get far. I deserve an explanation.
He drove with his mind focused only on the trip, the blocks to be spanned before he got to her. He was angry, yes, to a degree he had only experienced before at the hands of his slimeball of a father.

And just as with his father's stunning betrayal, the true source of his anger was hurt.

The woman he'd felt so protective about, had worried over, however much he'd tried not to, had lied to him, too. At the crucial moment last night, it hit him now, when his head was clear, there had been more to Mellie's reactions than simple shyness.

There was nothing Bart Branch hated more than a lie.

His gut had been trying to tell him something his mind just couldn't wrap itself around. Puzzle pieces were falling into place in a way he would have never expected. Jake's most recent call had said the girls were in North Carolina somewhere.

Don't think. Just drive. Wrecking your truck won't help.

But he had to know, however sick he felt, so he plowed
ahead. In minutes he was turning the corner of the block on which the diner stood and spotted her car. Good. He wheeled into the lot and didn't bother parking inside the lines. All his control had to be saved for confronting the woman who'd made a mockery out of what had started out as the most astonishing night of his life.

He pounded up the stairs. “Mellie!” he called out. “I want answers—”

He halted as the door canted on its frame, and fear replaced fury. “Mellie?” Every sense on alert, he eased inside, his gut roiling at the devastation he saw. “Mellie, where are you?”

Anxiety beat a tattoo on his heart.

Then he spotted her standing in the middle of the tiny living area, one hand over her mouth as her shoulders shook.

Every drawer lay open, every cushion slashed.

“Are you all right?”

She gasped and whirled at his voice, her face bone-white, her eyes glassy with shock. She spoke too low for him to hear, only a few halting words.

He crossed the distance, stepping over and around piles of destruction. “What is it? Are you okay? Stay here. Let me make sure they're gone.”

He scanned the tiny bedroom and the adjoining bath, but the place was empty. He returned to her side and gathered her close, but she was limp as a rag doll, shaking like a leaf and chanting a few words over and over again until finally he could make them out.

“They've found us. It's happening again.”

Suddenly she jerked from his grasp and raced to the bedroom, yanking a suitcase from the closet and grabbing clothes, tossing them in, heedless of any order.

“What are you doing? Mellie, we have to call the
cops. Don't disturb anything so they can find out who did this.”

“I can't wait.” Grimly she reached for a pillowcase and began stuffing items of hers and Lily's inside, then froze and grabbed for her phone. “Lily. I have to call Louise and be sure—”

Before she could dial, Bart captured her hand. “It's barely dawn. A ringing phone at this hour will scare Louise and Al half to death.”

“I don't care. I have to be with Lily. Get out of my way.” She grabbed the overloaded suitcase that was half her size and dragged it off the bed.

It fell from her grip with a thud.

He grasped her shoulders. “Mellie, stop this. What's going on? Do you know who did this?”

She looked up at him, her face bleached to parchment. “Not really.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Bart, please. Just go. I'm leaving today. Right now. I'll wait outside Louise's until she and Al are up, but then I have to… We can't stay.”

“Where will you go?”

Her gaze skittered from his. “I'll figure it out.”

“You can't just take off without knowing. I won't let you.”

“You can't stop me. Look, I know where I'm going, but I can't—I didn't want to tell you…” She began shaking again. “Please, Bart, just leave.”

“I'm not going anywhere. Didn't want to tell me what?” He had to know.

Her face was a study in pure misery. “I'm sorry—for everything. I didn't know, I swear it, and I couldn't tell you because it would hurt you, and I thought they were
gone, but—” Her eyes darted around the room. “I have to go to Texas. He has to help.”

“To…Texas? Why? Who has to help?” But the pieces were assembling into a picture that was a punch in the gut. She was barely in her twenties.

“Where are you going, Mellie?” he asked when she remained silent, his voice deceptively soft. “Tell me. Don't lie to me anymore.”

Mellie's shattered gaze rose to his, tears dripping from her eyes and guilt all over that delicate face. “I knew him as Hal.”

No.
Bart wanted to howl. “You
are
her. Amelia. And Lily, she's…” With a dull thud, his heart dropped to his feet.

He let go of Mellie and stepped back from her. “What a joke, huh? You must have laughed your head off.” He uttered a hollow chuckle. “I've been looking everywhere for you, and you were right under my nose all the time.” He loomed over her. “Lying to me every day since we met. Lying to all of us, everyone who's tried to help you.”

But she was staring at him in total bewilderment. “You were looking for me? But how could you know? How did you find out about us? I…Bart, I didn't tell you for your sake. I was trying to protect you. Hal—Hilton, I mean—he's hurt you so much. I didn't know he was your father, I swear, not until—”

“Protect me? Or look out for yourself?” His laughter was bitter. “Honey, if Hilton Branch is who you're expecting help from, prepare to be disappointed. That SOB has never helped anyone but himself in his entire life.” His eyes went to slits. “He says he doesn't know where the money is, but how do I know you're not in this with him somehow? Maybe he's lying, as usual, and
he does know where the money is. Are you partners? You retrieve the money, since he's in jail and can't do so?” Bart shook his head. “It would be just like him to take advantage of someone so young in order to keep Biscayne Bay from laying hands on the money.”

“What money?” She frowned. “What's Biscayne Bay?”

“Don't play coy with me now. It's too late for that.”

“I don't know what you're talking about, I swear it.”

Bart gestured at the wreckage around them. “That's who did this, a group of international criminals who had the poor judgment to loan my father millions. Now dear old Dad says he had a friend stash some of it for the second family he neglected to tell anyone about, and they believe you know where it is.”

Mellie sank to the mattress as though her legs wouldn't hold her. “I've never heard a word about any money. I came to North Carolina looking for Hal because of something my mother said before she died. I just needed him to help take care of Lily.”

“So why'd you stay around when you didn't find him here? Did you think you'd sucker me into taking care of you, since Hilton wouldn't?”

She reacted as if he'd struck her. “How could you think that?”

“How could I not?” Suddenly all the pressures he'd been under for weeks and the kick in the teeth of knowing she had indeed been playing him snapped something inside him. “Never mind. At least now I can call off the private investigator I've had looking for you out of some misguided notion my family has about finding two helpless girls in trouble.” He moved toward the door.

“Bart, I…please believe me that I never—”

He whirled on her. “Never what? Lied to me with every breath? Pretended to care about me? Let me, for God's sake, take you to bed without knowing your real name?”
And made me want to believe in love when I knew better?
“I can't talk about this. Stay where you are. I'm calling the police and then Sheila. You've put her livelihood in jeopardy, when she bent over backward to help you.”

“I never wanted to hurt anyone. Bart, just let me go. I'll leave and everyone will be fine.”

His head was spinning. There was too much to be sorted out, and he was exhausted. He didn't want her hurt, either. But knowing she'd lied to him changed everything. Lies had done too much damage to his family. Bart didn't have many absolutes in his life, but he could not tolerate deception.

He couldn't discuss this any more right now, but neither would he leave her vulnerable. “You can't go anywhere, Mellie—or should I call you Amelia?” At her stricken look, he forced his voice to gentle. “It doesn't matter. What's important is that these guys are bad news. You need help from the experts.”

“But I don't understand. I really don't know about any money, I swear it. Or why someone did this.”

Maybe she didn't. But he'd lost faith in his judgment. “I don't know what to believe anymore. Just please…stay right there.” He started for the door.

“Bart…I'm sorry.”

He closed his eyes but didn't turn. “Me, too. I knew better.”

At the broken door, he paused and glanced back. She looked too vulnerable perched there on the ruined bed,
her small shoulders bowed. He wouldn't leave her alone until help had arrived, but he had to get away from her. To think.

He went down the stairs outside and began punching in numbers.