had grabbed her, not to mention a scratch on her inner thigh.
She definitely looked a little rough around the edges, like she’d been rode hard and put away wet, like she didn’t care about herself and where she’d been.
And as that sank in, her eyes filled. Idiot. What she’d done last night had been stupid and careless and dangerous. And it could have had an extremely unpleasant ending.
Yet she’d known all that and had done it anyway.
The restroom door opened and she turned her head, expecting Danny, expecting to have to put a smile on her face and pretend all was well, that she was “fantastic” as always, knowing she needed to thank him.
But it wasn’t Danny at all. Mel stormed in, and Dimi prepared for a lecture, to be berated about her bad choices, to feel an inch tall.
But Mel didn’t even glance at Dimi. She went straight to a sink, cranked on the cold water and bent. Dimi watched in surprise as Mel closed her eyes and slapped water on her cheeks. “Mel? What’s the matter?”
She didn’t answer for so long that Dimi thought maybe she wouldn’t. Finally, she straightened, water dripping off her nose. “Men suck.”
Dimi laughed. “Well, I agree with you there.”
Mel stared at herself in the mirror, then at Dimi. And it was a huge testament to how upset she must be that she didn’t mention Dimi was still wearing yesterday’s clothing and looked like shit. “It’s possible I’m going to kill him.”
Dimi blinked. “Who?”
“Bo Black. Who else?”
Dimi pushed Previously Gorgeous Guy far out of her head and went from pissed to panic. Again. “What did he do now?”
“You mean besides being born?” Mel closed her eyes. “He kissed me.”
This was so far from what Dimi had expected, it took her a moment to process. Mel hadn’t kicked Bo Black’s most excellent ass out, but she’d kissed him. “Okay, you win the bad-morning award.”
“Gee, thanks.” But Mel didn’t look like it’d been bad at all, and Dimi took a closer look. “You really let him kiss you?”
“It wasn’t a planned thing, believe me. It started out this stupid dare-”
“What? He got you on a dare? Jesus, Mel, the guy wants to take over our world and you let him goad you into-”
“Did I start out this story with ‘hey, a great thing happened to me this morning?’” Sounding extremely grumpy, Mel reached for a few paper towels to dry her face. “And anyway, he’s busy now, looking at some Stearman.”
“He’s got the money for that?”
Mel shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“So…” Dimi had to ask. “Are the old rumors true? Can he make a woman orgasm with a single touch?”
Instead of laughing, as Dimi had expected, Mel turned away. “It was just a kiss.”
Which didn’t answer the question, Dimi noted. More panic. It jangled inside her belly. “You going to turn into me now, Mel, and fall for the wrong guy?”
“Okay, repeat after me,” Mel snapped. “Just. A. Kiss. And believe me, it won’t be repeated.”
“I don’t know…” Dimi watched her oldest friend pace, which didn’t make her feel any better. “They say that once he kisses you, it’s like a drug. You have to have him again. And again.”
“Whoever ‘they’ are, they’re wrong.”
“Good, because he’s a Black, Mel.”
“Yeah.” Mel rubbed her temples. “I know.”
“He’s been making himself at home, working from here.” She let some of her panic show. “Acting like he has the right. He really believes that deed is real.”
“I know.” Mel closed her eyes. “He has got to go far, far away.” She tossed the paper towels into the trash.
If Dimi had had herself together, she’d have opened her purse and offered moisturizer, but as things were, she didn’t have either her purse or her wits.
“Okay, let’s try this again.” In the way that Dimi had admired for years, Mel drew herself up straight and tall.
“Try what again exactly?”
“The whole damn day. And trust me, if Bo so much as looks at me, he’ll regret it.” With that, Mel stormed out of the bathroom in much the same way she’d stormed in.
Dimi looked in the mirror. “She’s going to need you,” she told herself. “Which means you have to be the strong one for once.”
Her reflection looked worried.
Mel worked her tail off, struggling to stay one step ahead of North Beach’s needs, their customers’ needs, her employees’ needs.
Of Bo Black.
But everywhere she turned, things seemed to go wrong. The morning after the kiss-she refused to think in plurals when it came to the incident, though it had been plural kisses, heavenly plural kisses she’d dreamed about all night long-she came into work and found the front door of North Beach unlocked. Dropping her things, she rushed through the airport, but nothing looked touched. Nothing missing. Nothing bothered.
And yet later, sitting at her desk eating a donut from Char, she’d have sworn someone had been through her things.
Paranoia?
Or reality?
With nothing missing, she had no idea. And still nothing from her attorney on the deed.
At least her e-mail box remained empty of vague threats.
The next morning, the fourth since Bo had shown up, they had a scheduled five thirty AM incoming. Mel had come in early-tired from still dreaming of Bo’s body buried in hers-only to find herself devoid of linemen. Pissed, Mel called Ritchie, and got no answer. She dialed Kellan.
“Yo, dude,” he said groggily. “This’d better be good.”
“Yo, dude,” she shot back, with some sarcasm added in because it was early and she hadn’t had any caffeine yet. “There’s an incoming, and you’re not.”
“Ah, shit.” This was followed by a rustling noise, probably the kid falling out of bed. “Shit,” he said again, breathless.
“Shit on your own time.”
“Yeah, Mel-I’m sorry-”
She hung up. He was sorry, and so was she because she could hear the plane now. Once again she dropped her own job and found herself racing through the lobby, grabbing an orange vest and directing the aircraft herself, a beauty of a Raytheon King Air. She handled the tie-down, greeted the pilot and his guests, then stayed on the tarmac for a moment, enjoying the sun rising in the chilly, purple-blue dawn.
“So do you do every job in this place by yourself?”
She turned and faced the outline of a man as he came toward her, the sun in her face. Didn’t matter. She’d have recognized him from the way he walked, confident, of course, with a carefully banked bad-assness in every line of his tough body, a body he’d pressed against hers. The taste of his kiss came back in a flash, hot and sweet. The feel of his hands on the skin of her back, where he’d skimmed beneath her shirt and-
Stop. Don’t think about it…Try not to think about it every living moment of every single day…
Was he thinking about it, too?
Unable to see Bo’s expression, she lifted her hand to block her eyes and watched his long, sleek shadow move closer. His face seemed to have as many strong lines and angles as the rest of his tough, lean form. His hair had been finger-combed at best. Against the early chill, he wore jeans, and a soft, worn leather jacket, and looked a little rough, a little edgy.
And a whole lot sexy.
“You work too hard,” he said gruffly. “And half the time, it isn’t necessary. You have linemen.”
Nope, he was definitely not thinking about The Kiss. “Kellan overslept.”
