EDGE (18 page)

Mel felt her ground rules slip away. She’d never been kissed like this before.

His lips worshipped her.

Garrett had been a good kisser, but Cache...these feelings that he stirred up in her were magnetic.

“There’s something you need to know.” Cache moved his mouth to her neck. Goose bumps erupted down her back and arms. Her nipples stood to attention, saluting the man in front of her.

“I wasn’t in the Middle East taking pictures of lizards.” He nudged aside her shirt and it fell to the floor leaving her wearing the little white tank top, which was so thread-bare her bra showed through it. “I’m glad you hide behind these flannel shirts. Otherwise, I’d have to fight every man here to get at you myself.”

“They’re just breasts. Mammary glands.” She desperately wanted to get back to the touching and kissing. This man’s foreplay was potent enough it alone might have her finally reaching a climax with a man instead of having to use Mr. Happy.

He brushed his hand over her breast. She groaned and arched into his palm. “Just mammary glands, huh?”

“There might be more to them than that,” she conceded.

Cache pulled her top over her head, leaving her covered in her simple white bra. “Let’s find out.”

The bra quickly went the way of the flannel and tank top, leaving her covered in just her jeans. The cold of the room had her wanting to hug herself for warmth.

“God, you’re beautiful.” Cache traced the tattoo of a phoenix inked over her heart. She’d had it put there years ago as a statement of her survival and to cover the deepest of her scars. Her breath hitched in her chest as his fingertip gently trailed along the image. “I like this.” He locked eyes with hers. “I like you.”

His palms cupped her breasts, and Mel surrendered to the thrill shooting straight to her very core. He bent and took a nipple into his mouth, and Mel knees shook. He caught her up in his arms, swiveled, and laid her on the bed.

Following her down, he rubbed himself against the juncture of her thighs. “Yes.” She groaned, arching her hips into his.

“Cache!”

What the hell?
She hadn’t yelled his name, though at any moment she’d hoped to.

Cache swore and raised his head from the wondrous job he’d been doing on her mammary glands, as someone pounded on the door. His gaze was hot with need and frustration.

The knock sounded again.

“Go away,” Cache growled.

“I’ve got to talk to you.” It sounded like Tom.

“Get away from here, Tom,” Cache said, clarifying the identity of the idiot.

“I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Cache said.

“Not if I get to him first.”

Tom knocked again and rattled the doorknob. Mel stiffened.

“Don’t worry. I locked it.”

“Pretty sure of yourself, weren’t you?” She pushed against his chest and reached for her clothes.

“It wasn’t like that, Mel. I didn’t want to be disturbed.”

She turned to him with her bra in her hands. “Right. How was I to get the wrong idea?” she asked, sarcasm heavy in her voice.

“Christ.” Cache ran his hands through his hair. Then vaulted off the bed when Tom knocked again. He swore again when his bad leg took his full weight. He had to grab the bedpost to stay upright.

He pointed his finger at her. “Don’t move.” She had her tank top ready to pull over her head and paused at the angry tone of his voice. Then she yanked it over and shot her arms through the armholes. How dare he tell her not to move? As if she was going to stay, half-dressed, like a well-trained dog while Tom banged at the door. The mood had been broken like ice during spring break-up.

Cache opened the door a crack. “This had better be good or you’re a dead man.”

Tom looked past Cache to Mel, flushing when he took in her mussed state.

“Can we talk out here?” Tom asked, glancing again at Mel.

This was about her.
Why else would Tom interrupt them, sending guilty looks her direction?

Cache faced her. “Don’t go anywhere. We have unfinished business.”

Damn right, they did.
Unfortunately, common sense was returning the longer Cache didn’t have his distracting hands and lips on her.

She had no business cavorting with him. He’d be leaving in a week and a half. Then where would she be? She already cared more for him than she should. If she allowed this to continue what kind of shape would she be in when he left?

“What the hell is so important it couldn’t wait?” Cache asked, in a low voice even though he wanted to yell and slam Tom up against the wall.

“You can’t tell her who you are,” Tom said, keeping his voice equally low. “I was talking with Emily, and if Mel finds out who you are, you’re history. Remember that picture you took of her when she was found? Well, she blames that picture and the photographer,
you
, for exposing her to the world. In her mind, you’re as much of a monster as the guy who kidnapped her.”

Cache fell back against the door.
She blamed him?
The picture had garnered awards and worldwide attention, but he’d never thought she would lump him in with the man who’d kidnapped her. He should have. That picture had stripped her bare for the world to examine, dissect, judge.

“Cache?” Tom asked, bring him back around.

How many people had he done this to with a simple click of the shutter? “I need to think.” He was sick to his stomach.

“Okay, we’ll talk tomorrow.” Tom scampered down the hall.

Cache turned and stared at his closed door, bowing his head.

All this time he’d only been thinking of himself, what taking that picture of her had meant to him. Success, achievement, recognition, and God forbid, money. To her it meant terror, degradation, vulnerability, and exposure.

Cache took a deep breath, held it, and then released it. What the hell was he going to do? He had to return to his room…to her. He twisted the knob and entered. There she was. Disheveled and sexy as hell. He’d done that to her. He took in her clothed state and her look of determination.

“Tonight’s not the night, is it?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Nope. This was another one of your bad ideas, Cache.” She attempted to smile but it wobbled.

“No, great idea, bad timing.” He brushed her hair back from her face. “I care for you, Mel.”

“Don’t.” She swallowed and her eyes narrowed. “Don’t say things like that. You’ll be leaving soon and then what?”

“I don’t know. I guess a lot of that depends on you.”

“I live here. This is my home.”

“I know.”

She looked at him, puzzled, and he leaned down and lightly brushed her lips. Her eyelids fluttered opened when he straightened.

“We’re two intelligent adults. I’m sure we can figure something out.”

“It’s time I left.” She walked to the door. With her hand on the knob, she turned back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Cache.”

He watched her as she opened the door and closed it quietly behind her.

What the hell was he supposed to do now?

C
HAPTER
T
WELVE

Ye are fallen from grace.

~GALATIANS 5:4

Nicole hummed, enjoying the peaceful moments in the evening when the kids were in bed. She’d returned to the lodge to whip up a batch of dough, and was in the process of kneading the dough when she caught the shadow of a man stealing pass in view of the window. David must be out for a late stroll, except the man didn’t move like David or any of the other men on The Edge. Must be the light casting shadows. Puzzled, she shaped the dough into a ball, and slapped it into a greased bowl.

Mel trailed into the kitchen and came to a quick stop. “Oh. I didn’t know anyone was still up.”

“I’m just finishing.” Nicole forgot about the guy outside when she caught the haunted look in Mel’s eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Mel ran a shaky hand through her long hair. “Have you seen Linnet?” she asked, clearly not wanting to talk with her.

Sisters should be able to talk. Share.

“I haven’t seen her since she helped me clear the dinner dishes. She might be with Sergei.” Nicole covered and set the dough in the refrigerator to slow the rising process for cinnamon rolls at breakfast. “You want a cup of hot chocolate?”

Mel looked like she wanted to bolt, but then seemed to think better of it. Probably because Nicole had mentioned chocolate. Amelia’s sweet tooth as a child had been something, but as an adult, it was legendary.

“Could you add a bit of caramel like you did the last time?”

“Sure.” Nicole grabbed the milk out of the fridge hiding a smile. She busied herself heating the milk, mixing in chocolate, adding in the sugar, humming all the while.

“That song, it’s the one Mom used to sing, isn’t it?”

Nicole turned. Mel sat at the table looking lost. Since they’d arrived at The Edge, she’d been the vision of strength. Nothing seemed to affect her, but tonight something was different.

“Yes, it is. Want me to stop?”

“No. It’s…nice.”

Nicole reached for the caramel and added a tablespoon to each of the mugs. When the milk was hot she filled them and stirred. Setting cups on the table she went back to the pantry and grabbed the container of shortbread cookies she’d made the day before.

They nibbled on cookies and sipped hot chocolate in silence until Mel set down her cup and looked across the table at Nicole.

“Did Mom…you know, suffer a lot, before she died?”

Nicole put down her own cup. “I don’t think so. Those last few weeks she wasn’t really there. They had her on so many drugs.” Nicole shrugged.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help.” Mel picked up her mug and took another sip. “Did she ever ask for me?”

“She didn’t ask for anyone. She just gave up.” Nicole felt the familiar anger over their mother’s death seep in. “Once the doctors told her she had cancer that was it. I hated her sometimes for giving in so easily.”

Mel nodded. “I wish she would have waited until I could have said goodbye.”

She needed to lighten the mood. They’d be adding whiskey to their chocolate if they kept this up. “You want to talk about what’s really bothering you?” Mel met her steady stare and then glanced away. “It’s Cache isn’t it?”

“Yes. No. Hell’s bells, I don’t know.” Mel sighed. “Have you ever met a man that could be
the man
, but you know it would never work between the two of you?”

“I married a man and lived with him for seventeen years, knowing he wasn’t
the one
the whole time. I’m not settling next time.”

“I could never live in New York.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t have to. Love changes people. If it’s the real thing, compromise is what it’s all about.”

“I don’t like to compromise.”

“Boy, don’t I know it.” Nicole chuckled. “Even as a kid, you always wanted things your way. Remember when you were ten and that phase you went through when you wore only black?”

“I remember plenty of times when you weren’t the perfect child, either. Sneaking out of the house to meet that guy in the band. What was his name?”

“Brad.” Nicole grinned over the rim of her mug.

“You broke your arm, trying to climb back into the house.”

Nicole shook her head and laughed. “Brad was so not worth a broken arm.”

“Is there a man out there who is?”

“I’d rather have a broken arm over a guy than a broken heart. Six weeks, you’re back to normal, but with a broken heart…” Nicole shook her head again and raised her cup to hide the emotion that suddenly choked her.

“I haven’t asked because I didn’t want to pry, but how are you doing with the divorce?”

“Better. Each day is better. I think I stopped loving the jerk long before I found out he was cheating on me. My heart was broken more over the loss of my marriage. The broken family my kids now come from.” Nicole stirred her hot chocolate realizing what she said was true. She wasn’t still in love with her ex, but rather, still in love with the idea of marriage.