Emmett (4 page)

“They're getting up,” he muttered, sitting.

“I'll warm everything when they get in here.” She busied herself washing the dishes and cleaning the sink until the boys came out of her room, dressed. Then she escaped into the bedroom and closed the door. Emmett's stare had been provokingly intimate. She'd felt undressed in front of those knowing eyes and she wondered why he had suddenly become so disturbing to her.

Seeing him without his clothes had kindled something unfamiliar in her. She'd never been curious about men that way, even if she did daydream about love and marriage. But Emmett's powerful shoulders and hair-roughened chest and flat stomach and long, muscular legs, along with his blatant masculinity, stuck in her mind like a vivid oil painting that she couldn't cover up. He hadn't even had a white streak across his hips. That was oddly sensual. If he sunbathed, he must do it as he slept: without anything on. He looked very much like one of those marble statues she'd seen photographs of, but he was even more thrilling to look at. She reproached herself for that thought.

She looked at the rumpled bed where Emmett had lain with the boys and her pulse raced. Tonight she'd be sleeping where his body had rested. She wondered if she'd ever sleep again.

After she was dressed, she went to the kitchen and warmed the food before she put it on the table. The kids all ate hungrily, even Guy, although he wouldn't look at
Melody. He was just as sullen and uncommunicative as ever.

But now, Melody was avoiding looking at him, too. Guy noticed her resentment and was surprised that it bothered him. He was guilty about the cat, as well. It had been an ugly cat, all scarred and big and orange, but it had purred when he petted it. His conscience stung him.

He had to remember that Melody was responsible for his mother's departure. He'd loved his mother. She'd gone away, so it had to be because of him. He'd given her a hard time, just as he'd been giving Melody one. He'd been much more caring about his father since his mother left, because he knew it was his fault that she'd run away with that Randy Cartman. If he'd been a better boy, a nicer boy, his mother would have stayed. Maybe if he could keep his father single, his mother would come back.

Blissfully unaware of his son's mistaken reasoning, Emmett smiled at the boy. He was a bit curious about Guy's behavior. The boy and Melody were restrained with each other. Melody's eyes were accusing, and Guy's were guilt-ridden. It wasn't a big jump from that observation to the subject of the cat.

He could ask Guy about it, but it would be better to let the boy bring it up himself, when they were away from here. If it was true that Guy really had let the cat out…

He was sorry that he'd spent so much time avoiding his children. Adell's betrayal wasn't their fault. If Adell genuinely loved Randy, and had left only because of that, no one was to blame for what had happened. Least of all the kids.

Emmett felt better about himself, and them. He had
a lot of omissions to make up for, and he didn't know where to start.

The kids finished breakfast and went to watch television. Emmett insisted on helping Melody clean up.

He dried while she washed and rinsed. “Tell me about the cat,” he said.

Her face stiffened.

“Come on.” He prodded gently.

She sighed heavily. “I found him last year in an alley,” she said finally. “He had a string tied around his neck. He was thick with parasites, and half-starved. It took him a long time to learn to trust me. I thought he never would.” She washed the same plate twice. “We've been together ever since. I'll miss him.”

“He may still turn up,” he told her.

She shook her head sadly. “It isn't likely. There are so many streets…”

“If he was a street cat when you got him, he's street smart. Don't give up on him yet.”

She smiled, but she didn't reply.

“What you said about the kids,” he began, glancing toward the living room to make sure they weren't listening. “I guess maybe I've been negligent with them. I thought they were adjusting to my being away so much. But this concussion has made me apprehensive.” He stared at her quietly. “Adell isn't likely to be able to handle all three of them with a stepfather, even if she wouldn't mind visitation rights. They'd be split up, with no place to go.”

“Adell loves them, you know she does,” she replied.

“She gave up when I refused to let her see them. I never would have given up.”

“Adell isn't you,” she reminded him. “She isn't really a fighter.”

“That's probably why she said yes when I proposed to her,” he said angrily. “I was overbearing, because I wanted her so much. If I'd given her a choice, she'd probably have turned me down.”

“You have three fine children to show for your marriage,” she said softly.

He looked down into her quiet dark eyes and something stirred deep inside his heart. He began to smile. “You've been a surprise,” he said absently.

“So have you,” she replied.

He noticed that she'd thrown away a box of cat food. “Did you mean to do that?” he asked, lifting it.

She grimaced. “Well, he's gone, isn't he?” she asked huskily.

She turned to put away the plates and he moved, but she caught her foot on a chair leg and tripped.

He caught her easily, his reflexes honed by years of ranch work. His lean hands on her waist kindled exquisite little ripples on her skin. She looked up into his eyes and her gaze hung there, curious, a little surprised by the strength of the need she felt to be held close against him and comforted.

He seemed to understand that need in her eyes, because he reacted to it immediately. Taking the clean colorful plastic plates from her hand in a silence broken only by the blaring television, he set them on the table. Then he pulled her quite roughly into his arms.

She shivered with feeling. Never, she thought, never like this! She was frightened, but she didn't pull away. She let him hold her, closed her eyes and delighted in the security she felt for this brief moment. It made the ache in her heart subside. His shirt smelled of pleasant detergent and cologne, and it felt wonderful to be held so closely to his warm strength.

“The cat will show up,” he said at her ear, his voice deep, soothing. “Don't lose heart.”

She had to force herself to draw away from him. It was embarrassing to allow herself to be comforted. She was used to bearing things bravely.

She managed a wan smile. “Thanks,” she said huskily.

He nodded. He picked up the plates and handed them back to her. “I'll get the kids packed,” he said.

He moved out of the kitchen. He was disturbed and vaguely aroused. He didn't want to think about how his feelings had changed since his concussion. That could wait until he was more lucid and out of Melody's very disturbing presence.

Guy had noticed the embrace and he remarked on it when Emmett joined the children in the living room.

“Losing the cat upset her,” Emmett said, and that explanation seemed to satisfy Guy. At the same time, the boy's face went a little paler.

Later, Emmett promised himself, he was going to have to talk to Guy about that cat. He had some suspicions that he sincerely hoped were wrong.

He and Guy weren't close, although they got along well enough. But lately the boy was standoffish and seemed to not want affection from anyone. He bossed the other two around and when he wasn't doing that, he spent his time by himself. He didn't ask for anything, least of all attention. But as Emmett pondered that, he began to wonder if Guy's solitary leanings weren't because he was afraid to get attached. He'd lost his mother, whom he adored, to a stranger. Perhaps he was afraid of losing Emmett, too.

Emmett could have told him that people don't stop loving their children, whether or not they're divorced. He'd
done his kids an injustice, probably, by not letting Adell near them. He began to rethink his entire position, and he didn't like what he saw. He'd been punishing everyone for Adell's defection. Perhaps he'd been punishing himself, as well. Melody had said some things that disturbed him. That might not be bad. It was time he came to grips with the past, and his kids. Fate had given him a second chance. He couldn't afford to waste it.

I
t only took her reluctant houseguests a few minutes to pack and be ready to leave.

“You could stay another day if you need to,” Melody told Emmett and her dark eyes were worried. “Concussions can be dangerous.”

“Indeed they can,” he said. “But the headache is gone and I'm not feeling disoriented anymore. Believe me, I don't take chances. I'm all right. I'd never take the kids with me if I wasn't sure.”

“If you're sure then,” she said.

“Besides,” he added ruefully, “we've given you enough trouble. Thank you for taking care of those kids for me. And for your hospitality.” He opened his wallet and put two twenty-dollar bills on the table. “For groceries,” he said.

“They didn't eat forty dollars' worth of food,” she returned angrily.

“The babysitter cost that much for two hours, much less two days,” he said, putting his wallet away. “I won't argue. I don't want to be under any obligation to you. In my place, you'd feel exactly the same,” he added with a smile when she started to protest again.

She
would
have felt the same way, she had to admit. Reluctantly, she gave in. “All right. Thank you,” she said stiffly. “I hope you'll be all right,” she added. She couldn't quite hide her worry for him.

Her concern touched him. “I will. I've got the world's hardest head.” He guided the kids out the door. “We'll get a cab,” he added when she offered to drive them.

“I'll miss you, Melody,” Amy said sadly. She hugged Melody warmly. “Can't you come with us?”

“I've got a job,” Melody said simply. She smiled and kissed the little girl's forehead. “But I'll miss you, too. You could write me, if your dad doesn't mind.”

“Me, too?” Polk asked.

She smiled. “You, too.”

He beamed. Guy didn't say a word. He stuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans and trailed after Amy and Polk.

“I'll say goodbye, then,” Emmett said quietly. He searched Melody's eyes, feeling oddly disconcerted at the thought of not seeing her again. He scowled, his expression steady and intent, and a jolt of pure pleasure seared through him as he let his gaze fall slowly to her mouth. It was silky and soft looking, and he wondered how it would feel to smooth her body against his and kiss her blind.

He dragged his gaze away. He must still be concussed, he decided, to be considering that! Any such thoughts were a road to disaster. She, of all women, was off-limits. He would never forget Adell and Randy. The
past would destroy any thought of a relationship with Melody.

“Goodbye,” he said stiffly, and followed the kids into the elevator. Guy looked over his shoulder, and there was something in his eyes that mingled strangely with the hostility. He looked as if he were about to say something, but Emmett's gentle hand on his shoulder guided him out the door.

The apartment was quiet and lonely with everyone gone. Melody got her clothes ready for work the next day, but she did it without any real interest. With a sinking heart, she washed Alistair's bowls and put them out of sight. Tears stung her eyes at the thought of never seeing him again. She'd never dreamed that a child could be so vindictive.

 

Back at the hotel, Guy was totally uncommunicative until that night. After Amy and Polk went to bed, he sat down on the couch next to his father.

“Something's bothering you,” Emmett remarked quietly.

Guy shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

The boy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees in a position that Emmett often assumed.

“I let Melody's cat out.”

Emmett's head lifted. He wasn't really surprised. He'd suspected this because of Guy's behavior. “That was cruel,” he replied, “after she was kind enough to take care of all three of you. The cat was special to her. Like Barney is to you,” he added, mentioning the mongrel pup that Guy was fond of back home. “Try to think how you'd feel if someone let Barney out in the streets…”

Guy burst into tears. It was the first time in memory
that Emmett had seen that happen. Even when his mother left, Guy hadn't cried.

Awkwardly Emmett pulled the boy against him and patted his back. He wasn't too good at being a parent most of the time. The kids made him uncomfortable with their woes and antics, which was really why he spent so much time away from home. Now he wondered if he'd been needed more than he realized. The kids hadn't had anyone to talk to about their mother in two years, or anybody to lean on. He'd assumed that they hadn't needed that. But they were only children. Why hadn't he realized how young they really were?

“Why did you let the cat out?” Emmett asked Guy gently.

“Because I hate her! She helped Mom leave!” Guy choked. “She's nothing but a troublemaking witch!” He looked up, a little uncertainly. “You called her that!” he added defensively, because his father didn't look pleased about what he'd said.

Emmett groaned. “Yes, I did, but it was because I was hurting. Nobody made your mother leave. She went away because she never really loved me.” It was painful to say that, but now that it was out, it didn't hurt so much. “She did fall in love, but with another man, and she couldn't live without him. That's not your fault or mine or Melody's. It's just life.”

Guy sniffed, and pulled away, wiping his tears on the back of his hand. “Melody cried all night. I heard her. I thought it would serve her right, because of Mom. But it made me feel awful.”

“It made her feel pretty awful, too.”

“I know.” He looked up at his father. “What'll I do?”

Emmett thought for a minute. “Go to bed. I've got an idea. We'll talk some more tomorrow.”

“We're going home, aren't we?”

“Yes. Tomorrow afternoon. But first, in the morning, I want to make a few phone calls.”

 

He made eight phone calls before he got the information he wanted. His head had stopped throbbing and he felt much better. Leaving the kids with a babysitter—not the elderly one of two nights ago—he went downstairs and hailed a cab.

Melody was just hanging up the telephone when she heard the outer office door open. She looked up with a smile ready for the client coming in. But it wasn't a client; it was Emmett. And under his arm was a big, straggly-looking orange tabby cat.

“Alistair!”

She scrambled up from the desk, tears of joy streaming down her face. “Alistair! Oh, Alistair…!”

She took the cat from Emmett and kissed Alistair and hugged him and petted him and stroked him in such delight that Emmett felt even worse than he had when Guy told him what he'd done. Seeing Melody vulnerable like this touched him. It was as shocking as it had been to see Guy in tears.

“Where did you find him?” she choked, big-eyed.

He touched her cheek gently. “At the local pound,” he said. He didn't add that the shelter had been in a state of chaos and the cat had inadvertently been scheduled for premature termination. That wouldn't do at all. “I suppose you know that it was Guy who let him out.”

“I know,” she said.

“It's my fault more than his,” he murmured reluctantly. “I've blamed everyone for Adell, especially you.
I couldn't stand to admit that she left because of me, because she didn't love me. I stayed away too much. The kids and the loneliness killed our marriage.”

“Not the kids,” she replied, clutching Alistair. “Adell loves the children. She'd love to have them visit, but…” She paused.

“But I wouldn't let her near them. That's right,” he agreed tersely. “I hated her, too. Her, and your brother and you. Everybody.”

“You were hurt,” she said softly, her eyes searching his. “We all understood. Even Adell.”

His jaw went taut. He took a deep breath and looked over her head. “We're flying out this afternoon. I have to go.”

“Thank you for my cat,” she said sincerely. In a fever of gratitude and without thinking of the consequences, she reached up and touched her soft lips fervently to his chin.

Shocked at the look it produced on his lean, dark face, and not a little by her own behavior, she drew back at once.

He looked down at her curiously, stunned. When she began to step away, his lean hand caught her shoulder and stopped the slow movement.

“No,” he said hesitantly, searching her soft, dark eyes while his heart began to race in his chest. “Not yet, Melody.”

While she was getting her breath, he let his gaze drop abruptly to her soft, parted mouth and his big hand moved up to her chin, gently cupping it as he tilted her face up.

His thumb moved hesitantly over her full lower lip. “I've…wondered,” he whispered as his head began to lower. “Haven't you?”

She didn't get the chance to reply. His mouth slowly closed on hers with tender, confident mastery. It was firm, and hard and a little rough. She let her eyes close and stopped breathing. She'd been kissed, but just the touch of a man's lips had never been quite so vivid. It had to be because of the antagonism they'd felt for each other, she thought dizzily.

But her knees were going weak and her heartbeat went wild when she felt his teeth gently nip her lower lip. She heard his breathing change even as his head lifted a fraction of an inch.

“Open it,” he said roughly, his hand sliding into the thick hair at her nape. “Open your mouth…!”

His lips crushed into hers with sudden violence, hunger making him less considerate of her needs and more aware of his own. With a rough groan, he made her lips part to admit his, and his tongue probed insistently between them.

Shocked, her gasp gave him what he wanted—access to her mouth. He made a satisfied sound in his throat and penetrated the soft, warm darkness past her lips with slow thrusts.

She gasped and clutched at him as waves of physical pleasure buffeted her untried body. Her mouth pushed upward, to meet his ardor headlong. And Alistair chose that instant to insist physically on being put down, his claws digging into her arm.

She pulled away from Emmett, breathless and puzzled by the violence in his eyes. His hand let go of her hair. She looked away while she put the battle-scarred old tomcat on his feet and dazedly watched him leap into her chair and begin to bathe himself with magnificent abandon.

She took steadying breaths and slowly looked at
Emmett. He seemed as shaken as she felt. Her dark eyes stared up into his turbulent green ones with mute curiosity.

The delight he felt was far too disturbing. He could get in over his head here with no trouble at all. The chemistry was there, just as he'd known it was somewhere in the back of his mind. He was sorry about that. Of all the women he'd ever wanted, Melody was the first one that he absolutely could not have.

He forced himself to breathe normally, to pretend that it was natural for him to feel this aroused from a casual kiss. He had to force back the impulse to drag her against him.

He laughed a little angrily. “I'm glad the cat turned up,” he said when he wanted to ask how she felt, if her body was throbbing as madly as his own was. He had to keep his head, talk normally. “Thanks for the hospitality.”

“That's all right.” She could barely speak. She cleared her throat. “Thank you for finding my cat. He…he really is all I have.”

His throat felt tight. He had to stop looking at her mouth. His broad shoulders squared. “Guy's sorry for what he did. I'll make sure he doesn't do it again.”

“You won't…be mean to him?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I don't have a bullwhip.”

She flushed. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly.

He managed a short laugh. “I don't beat my kids. Can't you tell?”

She smiled at him, her lips still tingling with pleasure from the hunger of his mouth.

He smiled back. She looked delectable when she smiled. He wanted her. No! He couldn't afford to think like that.

“Well…goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” he said. He hesitated for an instant. She made him want things he'd forgotten he needed. There had been women, but this one touched him in ways no one else ever had. He wanted to tell her that, but he didn't dare. There was no future in a relationship between them. Surely she knew, too, that it had been an impulse, a mad moment that was better forgotten by both of them.

With a tip of his broad-brimmed hat, he turned abruptly and left without looking back.

Melody stroked her cat with a hand that trembled. “Oh, Alistair.” She sighed, cuddling him. “I've missed you so much!”

Alistair butted his head against her and purred. She laughed, imagining that he was telling her he'd missed her, too. She murmured a small prayer of thanks and carried him into the bathroom. He'd have to stay there until it was time to go home. Perhaps she could find him part of a sandwich and a saucer of milk later to keep him happy.

 

Emmett was set upon the minute he walked into the hotel room.

“Did you find him?” Guy asked impatiently.

Emmett put off telling him long enough to make him sweat. Object lessons stayed in the mind. “Yes, I found him,” he said, and watched the young face lose its pallor. “No thanks to you,” he added firmly. “He was scheduled to be put down.”

“I'm sorry,” Guy said tightly. He was trying not to hope for too much. Last night, his father had been approachable for the first time in memory. It had felt good
to be cared about. But now Emmett seemed distant again, and Guy was feeling the transition all too much.

Emmett turned away. He didn't see the wounded look on the young face, or the hope that slowly drained out of it. “You got a second chance. Most people don't. Remember how it felt. That way you won't be tempted to do such a cruel thing again.”

“You hate her,” Guy muttered. “You said you did,” he added defensively.