Aussie Rules (27 page)

She was not going to cry again; earlier today had been enough to last her years. She should have been mortified at that, but Bo had made it okay. What was it about him that always made it okay?

She'd always thought of herself as work. All work. But she was coming to understand there was more to life, and also, more to her.

And that no matter what happened, she was going to be okay.

But a little part of her couldn't help but wonder, what would it be like if Bo wanted to stay at North Beach? With him in her life, she'd do much more than fly, that was certain now.

She'd love.

The thought knocked her back a few breaths, and then the soft knock on her door startled her further. Padding to the door, she frowned. “Dimi?”

“Try again.”

Bo.

Everything within her reacted to that unbearably familiar voice. Everything within her wanted to throw open the door and jump him, but she set her forehead to the door and told herself that she had to give him up at some point, the sooner the better. She'd probably have managed to resist him if he hadn't knocked again.

M
el closed her eyes.
Resist
. She could do it.

She
had
to do it, because this was much more than a physical want. This was the kind of ache that couldn't be assuaged with just another quickie, amazing as that quickie would be, and Bo couldn't,
wouldn't,
offer more.

He was leaving.

Damn it, hadn't she given herself enough disappointments?

He didn't knock on the front door again, and she breathed a sigh that she told herself was relief, which backed up in her throat when another knock came.

The back door, this time.

She saw him through the glass. Lightning flashed, revealing his face, his eyes, which glittered with a whole host of things she couldn't begin to guess at.

“Mel.”

She stared at him. Shook her head. She felt too weak, too vulnerable.

“Open up.” He spread his hand on the glass.
“Please?”

Ah, hell. It was the please, uttered in that Australian drawl, in that low, husky voice that followed her into her dreams. She pulled open the door, let him slip in, then walked away from him, back through the living room to her large picture window.

Putting her hands on the sill, she stared out into the dark night, extremely aware of the man behind her in the dark, silent. Waiting.

The wood floor creaked beneath his feet as he came close in the charged silence. Around her the awareness heightened, and she drew a shaky breath.

Still, neither of them spoke.

The rain hit, slashing at the windows. Bo came closer still, moving without a sound but she didn't need to hear him,
she felt him,
with every fiber of her being.

Go away. Please, go away
.

Don't go
.

With her mind and body playing tug-o-war, she felt a little off center. “I can't do this, Bo.”

“I haven't asked anything of you.”

His voice came out of the dark. Disembodied.

But not distant. Never distant. She had a feeling she could be in a coma and just hearing that low, whiskey, Aussie voice would bring her out and awake.

And aroused.

Without looking at him, she pressed her forehead to the window. Looking at him would be bad, like looking at an open box of donuts.

Irresistible bad.

Gotta have one bad.

Can't stop at just one bad.

In fact, if she looked at him and he spoke, the combination would probably cause her to spontaneously combust.

From behind her, he touched her hair.

So close. He was so close she could feel the strength of him, his breath at her temple. “Mel.”

“It's late,” she whispered, still pressing her forehead to the glass.

“I know. I was in bed, staring at the ceiling.”

“Ah.” She felt the reluctant smile tug at her mouth. “A noble bedtime activity.”

“I can think of a better one.”

Her entire body tingled, reacting in the predictable way as she squeezed her eyes shut. “Is that why you came?”

He touched her again, trailed a finger over her neck, nudging her oversized T-shirt off one shoulder. Simple touch. Complicated feelings. “Bo.”

“I was lying there.”

“Studying the ceiling.”

A huff of breath escaped him. “Yeah. Picturing you here. Devastated from today.”

She craned her neck to look at him now, the low light casting his face in bold relief. “So you drove over here to what, make me undevastated?”

A grimace crossed his face. “It sounded good from flat on my back.”

Flat on his back. She wanted him flat on his back, with her straddling him. She turned back to the window, set her hands on the wood-lined pane and desperately took in the sights.

Ocean pounding the shore.

Sky unleashed.

“Mel.” He set his hands on her shoulders, which he began to knead with such a knowing touch, the first moan escaped before she could stop it. “You've got a rock quarry going on here.”

“Yeah. Listen, Bo…I called Matt and asked him to run Sally for more aliases.”

“I'm searching, too.”

Right. Of course.

“Stop thinking, Mel,” he said softly. “At least for tonight.” He had magic hands, talented fingers…both of which she already knew. Beneath them she nearly slid into a pool of boneless putty as he drew out each and every tense muscle in her neck and shoulders and arms, concentrating in silence, until finally she sagged back against him.

His chest brushed her back, his thighs hard and tough to her softer ones. She hadn't taken a good look at him on purpose, but she could feel his T-shirt against her shoulders, absorbed his soft denim jeans against her bare legs. Because she was weak, very weak, she rocked her bottom, wriggling just a little.

The sound that escaped him managed to perfectly convey his desire, as did the hard bulge she felt pressing into her bottom. She'd told herself they weren't going to do this, but then his hands slid up her sides and down, gripping her hips when she helplessly arched into him again. Still holding on to the wood for dear life, she murmured his name.

His hand skimmed up her belly, taking the hem of her T-shirt with him, higher, slowly higher, exposing her breasts to the night air, and then to his fingers.

“I dream of this,” he said a little hoarsely. “Just about every night. I wake up hard and aching for you.” He slipped a hand inside her panties, let out a rough sound of pleasure when he found her wet, and slid a finger inside her.

God. She pressed his hand against her, needing more, which he gave by adding another finger. He kissed her shoulder, her neck, the sweet spot right beneath her ear; hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses that went in tune with his clever fingers.

She opened her eyes and caught her own reflection in the glass. Hair, wild. Face, hungry. T-shirt shoved up, one breast bared, nipple hard and pouty, the other covered by Bo's big hand. Her belly rose and fell as if she'd been running. His other hand, between her legs, was still moving, the sight so erotic she almost had to close her eyes but she blinked rapidly, trying to watch, wanting to watch, because she'd never seen herself like this before.

Then she looked up and caught Bo's reflection. He wasn't looking in the glass, but at the real thing, his head bent as he took in her body and what he was doing to her. His expression curled her toes. “Bo.”

His thumb flicked over her and she couldn't help it, she bowed back, body tight and quivery. As she shifted, a breast brushed the cold glass, making her gasp.

He stroked her again.

Her mind shut down, reduced to nothing but sensation. Hot fingers inside her. Cold glass against her breast. Bo's mouth on her throat, his erect penis pressing into her bottom.
“Please,”
she managed.

That was all he seemed to need to hear, and in the next moment, he dragged down her panties and opened his jeans.

Something hit the ledge and she looked down. A condom packet.

So they weren't going to compound their errors.

And then she couldn't think at all because he'd dipped down a little, his thighs on the outside of hers, and slid inside her with one powerful thrust.

She cried out, and so did he as she pushed back against him for more. Please more.
“Bo.”
She couldn't stay still, couldn't, but when she wriggled, desperate, his hands gripped her hips, his voice low and rough in the dark. “Don't move. Christ. Don't move—”

But she couldn't help it. He was huge inside her, filling her to bursting, and when his thumb pressed over her again, she began to come. At her first shudder, he groaned, his fingers digging into her hips, gripping hard as he began to move, too, thrusting into her again and again, so that she burst once more, or maybe that was
still
. She didn't know, didn't care, as long as it went on and on…And then he came, pulsing powerfully inside her, sinking to the floor with her as if his legs could no longer support them.

“So,” she finally managed, flat on her back. “We ended up ceiling-watching here, too.”

He let out a strangled laugh, and still breathing hard, rolled to his side, hauling her into the curve of his body. “It's better with you.”

“I went off like a bottle rocket.” She was a little embarrassed, actually, at how fast she'd come.

“Twice.” He grinned down into her face.

“You counted?”

“I didn't have to, you screamed it to the moon.”

“Did not.”

“Did, too.”

She felt herself blush, and he laughed again. “What, you're shy now?”

“Did I really scream?”

“My name,” he said, looking quite pleased with himself.

Yeah, well, all he had to do was touch her and she went up in flames. Hell, he
looked
at her and her body temperature soared off the damn chart.

Truth was, she could get overheated just thinking about him.

And yeah, he'd made her scream. She shook her head and struggled to her feet. “Okay, time for you to get out of here.”

He was shaking his head before she straightened. “I'm not leaving town yet, not with you still getting threats. Not with this whole thing unresolved.”

She stared down at him. She'd meant for the night, but that his leaving the country had been forward enough in his mind to assume she'd been talking about
that
…

She crossed her arms, suddenly extremely aware that she was naked. “I, um, meant it was time for you to leave my house.”

His lazy, satisfied, cat-in-cream smile vanished. “Mel.”

No. No, she didn't want to hear it, and she whirled away.

“Shit, you're a genius,” she heard him mutter to himself as he got to his feet, but she sped up as she headed toward her bedroom.

“Mel—”

She shut the door, and in the dark went straight for her dresser, planning on putting on clothes. All of them. She needed armor, she needed—

A lock on her bedroom door, apparently, because Bo walked right in, still butt-ass naked. “Mel—”

“It's late,” she said in the coldest voice she could muster, which wasn't very cold with him standing there looking like some kind of pagan god.

“I know. Mel, about me leaving the States—”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Mel—”

“Seriously. Don't want to talk about it.”

“I was careful not to lead you on,” he said quietly. “I never led you to believe I was staying—”

“No. You were careful,” she agreed. “Now please go.”

He looked at her for a long moment, during which she tried to remain cool and, more important, not lose it.

“I'm guessing this is nonnegotiable,” he said.

“Give the man an
A
.”

F
or the first time in memory, Mel's inner alarm clock didn't go off and she overslept. By the time she entered North Beach, she was fifteen minutes late and found herself the target of a handful of gazes, all staring at her in shock.

“What?” she asked a bit defensively to everyone sitting around the café bar still eating their donuts. “I'm a little late, so what?”

“Two times in as many weeks,” Char said, concern all over her face.

“Yeah, did hell freeze over?” Kellan asked.

Ritchie snickered, then sucked it in at the glare from Mel, who grabbed a donut and lifted her chin. “So I slept in, no biggie.” On second thought, this was a two-donut morning, and she snatched another, double-fisting, before stalking off to her office.

Neither the lemon pastry nor the jelly-filled donut appeased the hole in her gut. She sat at her desk organizing her flight schedule, trying not to think about last night in Bo's arms, and how for one glorious moment she'd completely lost herself in him. She also tried not to think about the day before, flying to Mexico to find Sally, finding instead more information that had only made her feel worse, and then nearly getting shot in the process…

Tried not to think about any of it…

It didn't help that as the day passed, she realized something else. Morale seemed to be up at North Beach, and bad attitudes down. People were happy. Content. Char was singing at the top of her lungs to Bon Jovi. Nothing new, but she'd hugged everyone three or four times today already. Al, out of the doghouse, had sold some photos, and also had a gallery interested in his work.

Oh, and Dimi was smiling.
Smiling,
answering phones, charming customers…

Mel would have suspected alcohol but she knew Dimi had given it up.

Even Kellan and Ritchie seemed different. They'd been on time and awake. A miracle in itself.

And then there was Ernest. He hadn't moaned, groaned, complained, or so much as set a spider jar on her desk, not once the entire day. And he'd even offered to bring her lunch.

She'd nearly fallen off her own chair at that one. Ernest, offering his own money up for lunch.

How was it possible that everyone around her was getting cheery again, feeling excited and hopeful, and she'd lost all taste for it?

Oh, yeah. Because Bo Black was going to walk out of her life.

Shortly after noon, Char popped into Mel's office.

Mel's nose twitched at the delicious-smelling something in Char's hands, and perked up slightly. “I hope it's carbo-loaded.”

Char set down a tuna melt, with the cheese and tuna squeezing out the sides of the thick French bread. “For you? Always.”

Mel took a bite and moaned. “You are a goddess.”

“Yeah. A pregnant one.”

Mel stared at her as the food stuck in her throat. “What?”

Char sank into a chair and put her hands on her belly. “Got myself knocked up. Think Al's going to kill me?”

“If it's the delivery boy's.”

Char laughed, but grew serious quickly. “He's going to think I did this on purpose, but I didn't. Remember last month, when we went camping?”

“You mean when you guys went for the overnighter specifically to ‘do it in the woods'? Yes, I distinctly remember the feeling of my brain matter coming out my ears as you told me how great it was.”

“We got carried away before using a condom.” Char sighed. “But these things happen.”

Mel thought of yesterday, and how after facing down that gun in their faces, she and Bo had pulled over on some deserted Mexican road, and right there in the heat and the dust had ravished each other in order to remember they were alive.

They'd gotten carried away as well. “Yeah. These things happen,” Mel said weakly. Oh, God. What if it happened to her, too? “I thought you were getting hot flashes. Doesn't that mean you're done with all this stuff?”

“Apparently not.” Char smiled. “Look, we're married. We have a decent home and we love each other. Now we'll have something to show for that love, that's all.” She paused. “Did that sound good, or did I rush it?”

“Depends on Al's mood.”

“Yeah, well, let's hope it's a good one.”

“So, you happy?” Mel asked.

“Oh, yeah.”

Mel hugged her tight. “Then I'm happy for you.”

Char patted her still-flat belly. “Thanks, honey. Hey, you notice Dimi skipping around this morning? She didn't even light her candles or incense. And she was smiling. She looks so pretty when she smiles. Anyway, I'd say she must have gotten lucky, but you know what? I think in her case, it's the opposite. I think she's finally learning to make herself happy.” Char leaned in and hugged Mel. “One down, now only one to go.”

Mel frowned. “What does that mean?”

“You, honey. I mean you. You have to learn to make yourself happy.” And then she left Mel alone to wonder how exactly to do that.

 

At the end of the day, Dimi buzzed Mel in her office. “Line one,” she said. “It's
him
.”

Mel stared at her phone as if it was a coiled rattlesnake. She didn't have to ask who. It was Matt, with possible news on Sally.

“Tell me exactly what he says,” Dimi instructed. “Every word.”

“I will.”

“Unless it's bad news. Oh, God, do you think it's bad news?”

“Bad in comparison to what, Dimi?”

“Right.” Dimi drew a ragged breath. “Right. Maybe…I know this sounds crazy, but maybe he's calling to tell us he found out it's all some sort of mistake.”

Mel had no hopes left, false or otherwise. “What kind of mistake involves taking money and property that doesn't belong to you?”

“Yeah,” Dimi sighed. “Wishful thinking and all that.”

“I'm going to take the call now,” Mel said gently. “I'll just buzz you when I'm off—”

Before she'd even finished her sentence, Dimi opened Mel's office door and slid inside, breathing heavily. “Well?”

“Uh, I haven't taken the call yet,” Mel said dryly, then clicked over. “Mel Anderson. Can I help you?”

“How many aliases for Sally are you expecting?” Matt asked.

“Well?” Dimi whispered. “Is she alive?”

Mel held up her finger. “As many as you can find, Matt.”

“I've unearthed four without any effort,” he said. “I'm not a betting man, but you can be sure if it was this easy, there are more.”

Four aliases, minimum. If there'd been only the one, someone could argue that Sally had had a good reason for vanishing under a different name. Fear, danger…

But four.

Four.

“There's more,” Matt said. “The last alias on record, Tara Louise? She was married for two years to a man who just recently died in New Orleans. Suspiciously. She's wanted for questioning but has vanished.”

Mel gripped her phone tight. “Oh, my God.”

A man dead.

Until Bo had arrived, Mel had faced only a moral dilemma. Yes, Sally had vanished, but she hadn't done anything to Mel, at least nothing criminal. So what right did she have to dig?

But now…Now there were many reasons; for the rights of the victims, for one.

For Bo's father.

For Bo himself.

The thought came out of nowhere. Mel wanted answers for Bo, for that eighteen-year-old who'd lost so much, for the man who'd never lost his belief in his father.

And then there was the fact that Sally had instructed Mel and Dimi to act criminally without their knowledge.

“Melanie?” Matt asked. “You there?”

“Yes, thank you. I'll get back to you.” She hung up and stared at the phone.

“Four aliases?” Dimi sounded as dazed as she felt, and staggered to a chair.
“Four,”
she said again, stunned.

“Maybe more,” Mel told her. “Probably more. And let's not forget the coup de grâce: an ex, dead under suspicious circumstances.”

“Two,” Dimi whispered. “Two ex's dead, if you count Eddie. Do you think…my God…Do you think she somehow killed Eddie?”

It was too terrible to even think about. “We have to face facts right now, Deem,” Mel said, her voice trembling. “
Together
. Sentiment doesn't have a place here. Sally's in big trouble and we both know we can no longer help her. But we can help the people she's hurt.”

Dimi reached for Mel's hand. “Don't worry. I'm not falling apart. And I'm all yours, at least for the duration of this disaster.”

“For the duration? That sounds a little…temporary.”

“Yeah.” Dimi stared at their joined hands. Hers were smaller, more delicate, with a perfect manicure and silver bracelets lined up her left wrist, jangling prettily. “You remember I told you about wanting to be a nurse.”

“Yes.”

“I've decided to go to a nursing school and the one I want to go to is in San Diego. I've registered, just today. Classes start in the fall.”

Just two months away. “I see.”

“Do you?” She scooted closer. “Do you really, Mel? You're not mad, upset, freaking out? Because I freaked out at first, the thought of leaving here, of being separated from you, but it's just…” She paused, her eyes misting. “Damn it, I don't want to cry.”

“It's okay, I get it. It's what you have to do.”

“Yeah.” One tear escaped and with a sound of frustration, she swiped at it. “But I'll be back. I want to work out of the hospital in town, only ten minutes away. That won't be so bad.”

“It'll be good,” Mel assured her, and they hugged hard, Mel feeling her own eyes go damp. “Shit.”

They laughed a little over the waterworks, then Dimi spoke. “See, so I'm not leaving you for long. Or Danny.”

“Danny?”

“We're going to try things out.” She smiled with her entire heart in her eyes. “It'll be from a distance at first, but that's okay. I need the time.”

“You and Danny?” Mel repeated, surprised.

Dimi's face closed a bit, her shoulders straightened. “I'm not going to hurt him, I wouldn't do that. Why do you think I resisted facing the truth about my feelings so long? The last thing I'd ever do is hurt—”

“Oh, honey, I'm not worried about
him
. He's a big boy, and he knows what he wants. I meant you. I'm worried about you.”

“You shouldn't be. I'm a little fragile, I know, but like I said, I need some time.” Dimi shook her head. “What Sally did sucks, and it hurts…” She pressed a hand to her gut. “Hurts like I didn't know I could be hurt. But with Danny, I just feel…
alive
. Like I haven't felt in a long time.” Her eyes were clear. Happy. “Whatever happens,” she said with intense pride, “I know I'm going to be okay.”

Mel nodded, understanding perfectly. She felt alive, too, vibrantly alive, and she had a feeling it had something to do with Bo. Everything to do with Bo. “I'll miss you,” she whispered, and they held each other for a long time. Mel didn't want to let go. For as long as she could remember, they'd been a team. A duo.

But it was the end of an era, and that was okay. Things changed. She'd live. When Dimi was gone, Mel stared sightlessly out at the tarmac, wondering what their future held. She'd always assumed that for her, it would be this place. North Beach.

Now…who knew?

“Looking pretty serious, mate.”

Mel's heart clutched. Her everything clutched as she turned and faced Bo. “What would you know about serious?”

With a cocked eyebrow, he shut her office door behind him and leaned back against it, arms and feet casually crossed as he smiled at her. “You're uptight again.”

“Let me guess. You have just the cure?”

“You know it.”

“Doesn't thinking with your dick ever get tiring?”

“Oh, I do more than think with it.”

Yep. And no one knew that better than she. “I'm busy. You need to get out.” She rubbed her temples and remembered the reason. Matt had called. She had to tell Bo. She owed him. “Damn it, I have to tell you something.”

The amusement was gone in a blink. “What's wrong?”

She laughed a bit harshly, and he frowned just as her computer beeped. Incoming mail. She glanced at it, then went still.

Bo took one look at her face and moved close. “Another one, then?”

Standing behind her as he was, he surrounded her, a hand on either side, gripping her desk. His chest brushed her back. His jaw was so close to her head that a strand of her hair stuck to the day-old growth of stubble there. She craned her neck so that her gaze met his. “A new one.” She could have hidden it, but no more secrets—well, except one. But she doubted he wanted to hear how much she'd gotten used to having him around. How much she'd begun to feel for him.