Up In Flames Page 4

“Deadline for what? Oh, look. These will do nicely as a bandage.”

  Appalled, Adam growled, “I’m damn well not wearing my underwear on my head!”

  “Oh, for goodness sake, I’ll rip them up. They’re white cotton and will work perfectly.”

  He shook his head. “Hell, no.”

  “Adam...”

  “If you’re so set on underwear, let’s use yours.”

  Her eyes widened, and she sputtered. “I’m wearing mine!”

  “So take them off.”

  She looked ready to smack him. “Mine won’t do.”

  “Why not? You said underwear was perfect and I’d damn sure rather it be—”

  “Mine aren’t white and they aren’t cotton,” she blurted, then he watched, fascinated, as her face turned bright red.

  He was still cad enough to love seeing a woman’s blush, especially Mel’s. “Do tell.”

  She wouldn’t look at him. “Stop trying to distract me.”

  “I was distracting myself.” Not that it would take much with her standing there still damp, her skin dewy, her skirt and halter clinging to her body. She was as thin as she’d been in high school, her ribs visible below the halter top, but she looked so soft, too, so damn female.

  He cleared his throat. “All right. We’ll skip undies altogether. Find something else. This’ll do.” He lifted out a black T-shirt he’d brought for the trip home, to wear with his jeans. Once the business meeting ended, he’d planned to get comfortable again. He positively hated suits.

  Mel shook her head. “Black isn’t good because it’ll be harder to see if you’re still bleeding.”

  “It’s either this or your panties. Take your pick.”

  She took the T-shirt. “You always were a rotten bully, Adam Stone.”

  “So you ought to be used to it, right?” He was done trying to convince her he’d changed. What difference did it make, anyway? When all was said and done, they were still separated by a background that would never alter.

  Adam drew his key ring from his bag. It had a small but lethally sharp pocketknife attached. He attacked the shirt with a vengeance.

  Staring at the knife, Mel asked, “Why in the world are you carrying that?”

  “Old instincts are hard to shake. I got the knife when I was sixteen, when we still lived by the river.” He glanced at her, saw her appalled expression and shook his head. “I’ve never gutted anyone, honey. I’ve just kept it for protection. And because now I’m used to carrying it.”

  “Good grief, do you still have your leather jacket, too?”

  He grinned. “As a matter of fact, yeah, I do. But it’s too small for me to wear anymore. My mother bought me that jacket by taking in sewing. It means a hell of a lot to me. Of course, if she’d known what a redneck I felt like wearing it, she probably would have taken it back.”

  She laughed. “You did have your moments of mischief.”

  Adam tipped his head and studied her. “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  He tweaked a dark, glossy curl by her ear. “You still got those Minnie Mouse combs you used to wear in your hair, one on each side?”

  She looked surprised that he remembered; he could have told her there was little he’d ever forgotten, at least about her. He remembered the cute little dresses she used to wear, how serious she always looked, how alone.

  His heart twisted in a familiar pang, and he cleared his throat. He didn’t have the material things she’d had, but he’d had a close group of friends and always knew his family was there to give him as much moral support as he needed. “Do you still have them?”

  She dipped her head to hide her face. “I do. I bought them myself when I turned fourteen. My mother thought they were frivolous, but I always loved them.”

  “Worth a lot, huh?”

  “Worth a lot to me, but not to too many other people.”

  Adam felt like they were suddenly on dangerous ground. He knew Melanie had never had the best relationship with her parents. They’d loved her, there was never any doubt of that. But their expectations had always been pretty high. She wasn’t allowed to be a regular kid, with regular faults. She was supposed to be better than that. Maybe those silly little combs had been her first attempt at independence.

  Adam abruptly changed the subject. He didn’t like seeing her so melancholy. He’d take her temper any day. “So what are we doing here? Do you want to use this damn shirt or not? Or are you just waiting for me to bleed to death.”

  “You said you weren’t bleeding that much anymore!”

  He shrugged, which only annoyed her more. He handed her the sliced-up T-shirt, then suffered through her efforts.

  Actually suffer was a very apt word. Despite her new pique, she didn’t hurt him. But she was so gentle when she cleaned away the rest of the sand and smoothed his hair, when she held the wadded bandage in place then wrapped a strip of the shirt around his forehead like a headband. Her scent enveloped him again, and twice he felt her breasts brush his shoulder.

  Oh, hell. He was wearing no more than snug boxers, and his interest would be blatantly obvious if he didn’t distract himself and quick.

  “So what were you doing on this trip, all alone? Very few people vacation without a companion.”

  She carefully knotted the wrap. With a shrug in her tone, she said, “I’m used to being alone. And it makes it easier for me to think.”

  “To think about what?”

  She finished with his bandage and sat back on her heels. The skirt pulled tight over her long thighs and smooth knees. That held his attention for several heartbeats, and when he finally looked at her face, he decided she looked uncertain. Adam thought she’d refuse to answer, but she lifted one shoulder and said, “About what to do with myself for the rest of my life.”

  “You couldn’t figure that out back in Brockton?” Adam closed his bag and stood.

  She stood also and dusted the sand off herself. “There were...distractions at home.”

  He took her hand with his free one and started them down the beach again. Mel didn’t object, and he enjoyed touching her. Her fingers were so slender, her hand so tiny in his large one. “What kind of distractions?”

  “Oh, family, friends...an ex-fiancé.”

  That last distraction caused his stomach to tighten. Trying to sound only mildly interested, he asked, “Family?”

  “Surely you remember my mother and father. They’re a bit...overwhelming. And they like to try to run my life.”

  “I remember they did run your life. They pretty much chose your friends, your clothes, your first car.”

  She nodded. “But that was before college. I came back a different woman.”

  She looked at him, and he could tell his reaction mattered to her. He smiled. “If what I’ve seen so far is evidence, I’d say you’re very different.”

  “Yes.” She let out a breath, satisfied. “But they didn’t like it much. They’re constantly trying to make my decisions for me, especially about who I marry. I needed time away from their campaigning.”

  “What about your friends?”

  “They mean well, but they don’t understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  “Me.” They walked several yards before she added, “They thought I should go back to my fiancé, that we’d make a perfect couple. Jerry is well established, influential. They all thought he worshiped me, but...”

  Again his stomach clenched and his heart thumped awkwardly. The man she described was everything Adam would never be, the perfect cultured mate for a woman of her breeding. Adam had always known when Mel married, it would be to someone exactly like that.

  He’d hated it then, and he hated it now.

  The rain had stopped, but the humidity was almost choking. He felt he couldn’t get a deep enough breath. “So what happened?”

  “I didn’t love him. And he didn’t love me.”

  A warmth surged through Adam, making his muscles ripple. He clenche
d her hand a little tighter. “Your parents and your friends don’t think love matters?”

  “They thought I’d grow to love him.”

  She looked out over the ocean, avoiding his gaze. But Adam didn’t mind. Just seeing her profile was nice. He liked the upward tilt of her nose, the way her long lashes cast shadows over her cheeks. He even liked her ears.

  Damn. “Do you think it’s possible you would have?”

  Blue eyes darted his way, incredulous. “No. Not ever.”

  “Then you made the right decision.”

  “I know. But now what?” With her toes pointed, she kicked up sand and swung his hand just a little. “I mean, I need to find a job of some sort and get my life together.”

  Frowning, Adam asked, “You need to find work?”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh! I don’t mean that I’m broke or anything like that. But you see, Jerry is a lawyer, and I was his secretary. After I broke my engagement, it didn’t seem right to work for him. And I wanted to do something new, anyway. Besides, work shouldn’t only be about money.”

  Adam shook his head in disbelief. “Only the rich could have such an attitude.”

  “That’s not true.” She frowned at him. “Don’t you want to enjoy your work? To have goals to reach for and take pride in? Don’t you want to make a difference somehow?”

  “I wanted to make a difference to my mother. She deserves some peace now, some time to take it easy. And I wanted to give my brother a chance, lots of chances, to do the things I didn’t get to do.”

  Very tentatively, she asked, “You say all that as if it’s impossible now.”

  “No. I’ll get to that point eventually. But it should have been today.” He released her hand to run his fingers through his hair, only to encounter the makeshift bandage. His fist dropped to thump against his bare thigh. “If I hadn’t gone overboard, I’d be on Marco Island right now, buying a small resort. My mother and Kyle are probably sitting by the phone, waiting for my call this very minute.”

  “Adam...”

  He heard her concern but couldn’t bear it if she felt sorry for him. He shook his head, dredging up lost control. “Forget it, Mel.”

  “But if you have the money to buy one resort, then surely you could just get another.”

  He laughed at her, more aware than ever of the differences in their outlooks. “This particular resort was dirt cheap because it needs a lot of work that Kyle and I could have done after it was ours. Unlike you or your family, I’m well used to working up a sweat. I could have turned the resort around. But the agent, Mr. Danvers, was clear that if I missed the deadline, it would be sold to the next bidder, who was only slightly below me. I scrambled around for two weeks getting things in order—only to fall off the goddamned boat.”

  Adam abruptly shut his mouth, disgusted with the situation and with himself. Why had he opened up to her like that? The details of his real estate deal were none of her business. Hell, he’d wanted to impress her, not drive home how shaky his financial position still was.

  “Tell me about your family, Adam.”

  He scrubbed at his face, then twisted to see her. She knelt in the sand beside him, her expression sincere, curious. Adam shrugged. “Kyle is totally different from me, more like my mother. He smiles all the time, and nothing gets him down. When we were younger, and things got rough at home, I’d always end up in trouble, fighting with someone or mouthing off at school. Not Kyle. Everyone likes him.”

  “And your mother?”

  “She’s the strongest person I know.” His eyes narrowed and he looked out at the endless expanse of sea. “Even when Dad died, she held up, doing what had to be done, getting through each day. As soon as I could make enough money, I moved them away from Brockton, so we could all have a new start. We didn’t go far, even stayed in Ohio, but now they were looking forward to Florida.” His jaw tightened and he threw a fistful of sand. “Damn, I hate to let them down.”

  Mel’s hand touched his, and she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  Her soft apology made him realize what a heel he’d been. It wasn’t her fault he’d lost his balance, but he let her believe he’d jumped in to rescue her. Oh, hell.

  “I fell in, Mel.”

  She touched his shoulder. “I know. Trying to save me.”

  He glared at her over his shoulder. “Didn’t you hear me? I fell in. Yes, I made a grab for you, but no, I did not leap in to rescue you. Hell, that would have been an idiotic thing to do. If I hadn’t lost my balance I would have just told the captain to turn the stupid boat around.”

  She looked confused. “You lied to me?”

  “No, I didn’t lie. You just assumed.”

  “And you didn’t correct me!”

  Shrugging, he said, “You were so anxious to...comfort me. I didn’t want to miss the experience.”

  She fumed in impotent silence for three seconds, then kicked sand at him and stalked off.

  “A repeat performance, Mel!” he shouted to her retreating back. “You keep playing the same scene—get mad and walk away. Only here, there’s no place to walk to.”

  “Go to hell,” she yelled without turning.

  She took off at a furious trot, and she was nearly out of sight around a cove heavy with mangrove trees when Adam decided he’d have to apologize “Mel? Come on, Mel, wait up.”

  No answer. Grabbing his bag, he headed after her, calling her name. “Mel!”

  The sun hung low in the sky, a heavy red ball turning the water in the cove crimson with its reflection.

  He picked up his pace, his injured head pounding with every step, then almost ran into her when he rounded the bend she’d taken. “Damn it, you could have...”

  His words dropped off. Ahead of them, some hundred yards up the beach, was a house. Well, sort of a house, more like a ratty shack. It was almost in the ocean because of the eroded shoreline. Exposed pilings beneath the structure showed how precariously it stood, and to Adam’s mind exemplified the seriousness of their situation. If folks were anywhere about, they would have knocked such a dangerous eyesore down. Oh, they were stranded, all right. He wondered how often, if ever, people visited this damn island.

  He took a step forward just as Mel took one back, closer to his side. “Do you think anyone is around?” she asked in a whisper, and he realized she was nervous. And in being nervous, she’d automatically come to him. The man.

  He felt like Tarzan, ready to defend her against all predators. He wasn’t rich, but for now, he was all she had. He grinned with the image. “Come on. Let’s go exploring.”

  He led her to the front door of the house, but the steps were broken and separated from the main structure by the shift of the land. He set his bag on the sand and said in his best macho voice, “You probably should wait here.”

  “Adam, be careful.” She fretted behind him, twisting her hands. “You don’t know what could be inside there.”

  Wild boars? He grinned and glanced at her while shoving the door open—and got bombarded by a flurry of large flying insects.

  Startled, Adam yelled, then fell backward into the sand, hitting his head once again.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Melanie ran halfway down the beach before she realized what a coward she’d been. The bugs, giant roaches of some kind, were gone, their dark cloud moving far away.

  Adam still lay where he’d landed, and she grew immediately concerned. She sprinted toward him. “Adam!” She came to a rushing halt beside his prone body, accidentally kicking sand over his chest and shoulders. He looked like a downed warrior in his headband and dark, snug underwear, with the rest of his magnificent, tanned body bare. She took a moment to observe him unaware, grew even more breathless, then shook herself.

  Her pulse racing at Mach speed, she knelt gingerly beside him. “Adam?”

  He groaned.

  Her heart seemed to drop to the pit of her stomach. “Oh, thank God. Are you all right?” She cradled his head on her lap and touched his jaw. “Adam, can
you answer me?”

  He cocked one eye open, stared at her breast near to his face and closed his eye again. “Nice, Mel, real nice.”

  “Adam,” she warned.

  “No, don’t slug me. There’s already a rusty marching band playing on my brain.” He sighed, then added, “Oh, hell, I feel like a fool.”

  Stroking his jaw and chin, she asked, “Why?”

  “It was just a few bugs, Mel.”

  “Ha! They were giant cockroach-looking bugs, and I almost fainted!”

  “Yeah, well, having grown up by the river, I’ve seen plenty of bugs.”

  She shuddered. “Not me.”

  “I know.” He made a smirking face, as if it was a crime not to have lived with bugs. Then he added, “But don’t pass out on me here, because I’m not up to lugging your dead weight up and down this damn beach.”

  Only the very real pain she could see in his eyes kept her from dumping his head off her lap. That, and the picture in her mind of where Adam had lived. Once, when she’d been around sixteen, she’d snuck down by the river to spy on him. Driven by some inner demon, she’d wanted to look at him, to see him. He’d been especially provoking that day, and she’d had some far-fetched idea of finding out more about him so she’d be better prepared to deal with him.

  She’d gotten the shock of her life.

  The outside of the trailer had been as tidy as anyone could make it, almost hiding the fact that it was falling apart. Wildflowers had been planted around the skirt of the trailer in an attempt to hide holes. Melanie, in her misconceptions of the world, had wondered why they didn’t move. It wasn’t long after that she found out Adam’s father had cancer, causing him to miss more and more work.

  Some of the area residents had taken up a collection for the family, and she still remembered feeling ashamed when her parents donated so little, when she’d wanted to give so much.

  It was no wonder he’d always resented her.

  To hide her sudden discomfort and the pity she still felt, she quipped, “You know something, Stone? You’ve got worse mood swings than my mother when she went through menopause. And frankly, she was a royal bitch.”

  He chuckled. “That bad, huh? Well, considering I missed the most important meeting of my life, I spent an hour in the ocean using muscles I’d forgotten I had, my brains have been scrambled twice now, and I’m presently in a position I’ve fantasized over but can’t do a damn thing about, then I’d say I’m justified.”