To Catch a Falling Star (13 page)

I set the plate on the kitchen counter and observe Tarry and Ella. She hauls him into the living room where her guitar lays next to the old piano. Tarry’s tall build fills the room.

“Mom is going to teach me, but she hasn’t had the time.” She hands him the guitar. My heart contracts when I hear the comment. I did promise her, but I’ve been working so many hours.

“Maybe I can teach you a few things I learned to play at your age.” Tarry lounges on the couch and strums a few chords.

“Cool, can I tell my friends? Mom says that I shouldn’t tell people about you or Aunt Portia. She said some people like to say bad things about you because you’re famous.”

Oh, God, what else is Ella going to tell him? I need to get her to bed.

“Oh, yeah, is that what your mommy says?” He smiles.

“Yeah, mommy said that you’re very nice, but some people are jealous that you’re handsome and a good singer.”

“Is that so?” He glances my way.

“Hmm-hmm. When can we start the lessons?” she asks.

“Well, right now, you’re going to bed, missy.” I intervene.

“OK. Bye, Uncle Tarry,” she mumbles and pouts.

“Bye, Ella, I’ll set up a lesson with your mom, okay?”

“Yay, that’s cool.” She jumps on him and kisses his face. “Mommy, can I at least tell Courtney?”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay. Now let’s go brush your teeth.” I turn to Tarry. “Give me a minute, I’ll be right back.” I smack her butt lightly as we climb the stairs.

I WATCH THEM go up the stairs. Ella’s giggles are adorable. She is a smart kid. And a perfect excuse for my return.

As I wait, I study the room. It’s a small house, but it radiates warmth. Mel likes colors. The living room has a red and inviting couch. Picture frames embellish the yellow walls. I stand and examine the photos. The majority are snaps of Ella. But there are dozens of pictures of intimate moments between Mel and Tim.

I study him. He was good-looking. A pang of jealousy stings my chest. The pictures show an easy demeanor that would make you want to meet him. In addition, he is a goddamn hero who died for this country. I immediately recognize a gut-wrenching mixture of jealousy and admiration.

After a few minutes, Mel is back. I don’t hear or see her, but the air becomes thick with her sensual presence. I glance over my shoulder to see her silently peering at me.

I smile, hoping I don’t look as pathetically lost as I feel. “You two made a perfect couple.”

“Thank you. It was a long time ago,” she says with grief lacing her voice. A crushing desire to embrace her overwhelms me.

“I want to propose a truce,” I say.

“Sorry, but you have me at a disadvantage. I’m unaware of us being engaged in warfare.”

“Oh, but we’re,” I say and my voice is raspy. I clear my throat. “And so you know, I don’t engage in any battles I don’t intend to win.”

“Get to the point, Tarry,” she snaps.

“For the duration of my being your chauffeur, I promise to avoid kissing you.”

“You must be kidding.” She puts her hands on her hips. Oh, those tattooed hips. The thought almost makes me retract my proposition. She frowns with an outraged expression. I need to bring the big guns to convince her.

“Also, I’ll keep your misfortune with Baby Honey a secret,” I explain.

“Are you trying to be funny? What do you think I am, thirteen? Listen, pal, I couldn’t care less if anyone knows my car is momentarily indisposed.”

“Okay. I’ll relay your unconcern to Will, when I fill him in tonight.” I shrug.

Mel hesitates. She sighs, and I see thoughts reeling inside her adorably stubborn head.

“No flirting, just a ride to work and back, and I have your word that you’ll keep it from Dad and Will.”

“Scout’s honor.” I cross my heart.

“Why do I have a feeling you were never a Boy Scout,” she says and treads to the kitchen.

“Because I wasn’t.” I follow her.

“I’ll warm up a plate of dinner Mom fixed me. You want some? I’m sure there is more than enough for both of us.”

“Yeah, sure,” I reply quickly, not because I’m hungry, but because it’ll prolong my time with her.

Mel navigates through the narrow kitchen and thrusts a dish inside the microwave. A small island separates the blue kitchen from the living room. I sit on the barstool facing her.

“Want something to drink? I have water, apple juice, milk,” she offers, opening the fridge. These mundane tasks make me feel comfortable, sort of at home.

“What the hell, you only live once. Apple juice it is, on the rocks.” I smirk.

“How did your therapy go?”

“Your dad is very unconventional.” I put it lightly.

“Yeah, he is. Maybe that’s what makes him so good at what he does. Dad has helped many people, Tarry. Give him the chance,” she says, sliding a tall glass of juice on the counter. I watch it stop right next to me, the amber liquid rippling on the rim. My thumb catches the overflowing drops, and I bring it to my lips. Out of the corner of an eye I see Mel swallowing hard. Oh, Miss Prude is definitely infatuated with me. Good, I need the reassurance. For the first time in my pathetic existence, I want to have someone, but have doubted my skills of seduction.

Mel startles at the ding of the microwave. She retrieves the dish, places it in front of me, and hands me an empty plate.

“Help yourself.”

I stare at the food and hear my stomach growl.

“What is this?” I scoop a long stripe of something yellowish.

“Fried plantains.” She smiles. “You don’t need to eat it if you don’t like it. It’s Colombian food at its core.”

“After yesterday, I can pretty much guarantee that I, too, am a worshiper of your mother’s food from her homeland.”

“Yeah, it’s a rich cuisine, especially when Mom is the cook.” She slides on the barstool next to me. Her thigh slightly skims mine. Her warmth entraps me.

“The company greatly increases the experience,” I say, and she stiffens at my side. Jeez, chill, Mel.

We eat in silence. Surprisingly, I finish my plate and scoop the rest of the beans and rice Mel has left on hers.

Mel gathers the plates and brings them to the sink. She rinses them and slides them into the dishwasher.

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” she asks.

“Sure, I would like one very much.” No, not really. It’ll keep me up all fucking night. But, if it gives me a reason to stay here longer, so be it. What’s a night of sleep, compared to spending more time with her?

I grab one of the mints from a bowl and pop it in my mouth. Resting my chin in my hands, my eyes follow her graceful movements. I bring the empty glass to her.

“Thanks,” she says. She turns her back to me and clumsily rinses the glass.

“Thank you for feeding me,” I say. Unable and unwilling to suppress my need for her, I stand behind her and place my hands on the counter, at each side of her hips. She squirms uncomfortably and her gorgeous ass brushes against my hard cock.

“Tarry, you, um, the truce.” She turns, facing me, and presses her back against the counter. Her breathing hikes. I remove the tie from her hair. Wild curls drape sensually over her shoulders. She glances at me. Her eyes are lost. She’s striking beautiful and broken.

“The rules of engagement are only in effect tomorrow. So right now, Mel, I’m going to kiss you.”

MY ENTIRE BODY trembles under his touch. I vainly will my weak flesh to be still. My body, betrayer, refuses to listen to me. I’m almost positive Tarry can hear my loud and stupid heart pounding in my chest.

With his eyes burning into mine, Tarry has imprisoned me. Like an enchanted fool, I open my mouth anticipating the touch of his tempting lips.

As if sensing my desperation, he delays the kiss. His lips hover over mine, tantalizing me. His tongue lightly strokes my lips. Oh my, does he have to torture me, on top of making me beg under his blazing silver-gray eyes. Why does he have to be so handsome and carnal? I swallow hard. Every pore of his body emanates sensuality.

His lips glide gently over mine. Tired of fighting the crazy animal attraction I have for him, I surrender to the warmth of his mouth. My fingers run through his silky and disheveled hair, clenching him closer. Noticing my sudden angst, he deepens the kiss, and a growl rises from his throat.

Instinctively I press my body against his, allowing his yummy body to enclose me. Tarry tangles his fingers on my hair and kisses me deeply. He tastes of apple and mint.

His other hand cups my ass and squeezes. He thrusts his erection against my abdomen and rolls his hips sensually. My knees weaken.

“Damn, girl. What did you do to me?” He moans in between kisses, sending a jolt to my core. His touch makes me feverish and I melt inside his embrace. My mind is foggy and all I can think of is how to cling to his body and get under his skin.

The coffee machine sputters, snatching me from the cocoon of his embrace. Tarry straightens and pulls back.

I feel immediately bereft of his towering body.

He must have sensed my crestfallen reaction. He stares deep into my eyes for an instant and says, “God, Mel, I can’t kiss you for a second longer and be able to stop.” He runs his fingers though his hair.

My wit deserts me, and I simply nod. Silently, we stare at each other.

Finally, I’m able to say, “The coffee is ready.” My lips still burn from the scalding heat of his mouth. I pour the dark liquid into mugs. I hand one to him.

His massive presence is overpowering. I feel at his mercy. My body desperately cries to me demanding more of him. It is confusing because it conflicts with the desire I have that he should leave.

Tarry sips from his mug. His eyes regard me. He doesn’t mutter a word, but there is a strange glint of hurt in his eyes.

I say a silent plea, begging God, to make him leave. Either God answers my prayer or Tarry notices my internal battle.

“It’s getting late, and you have to be up early tomorrow.” He puts the cup on the counter. “What time should I come for you?” He approaches me and, for a moment, I think he is going to kiss me. My body stiffens under a tug-of-war of fear and wanton desire.

“Eight thirty,” I murmur.