Lost Melody (12 page)

It took some doing to manage the
screen and front door with his bundle, but at last, he settled her
onto the bed. By the light spilling in from the hallway, he removed
her shoes and covered her with the quilt folded across the foot.
She sighed and turned onto her side, pillowing her face onto her
hand.

Damn.
She was so sweet lying there. He had no idea what kind of
things disturbed her sleep, but standing there watching her all
curled up and innocently seductive, he had the overwhelming urge to
crawl in beside her and hug her tight against him. If demons crept
into her dreams, he wanted to be there to slay them. But she
wouldn’t appreciate his efforts—not yet anyway. So, he placed a
gentle kiss on her temple and left before he did something she
would never forgive him for.

He drove the few blocks to his
father’s house and let himself in without knocking. Henry was
engrossed in a documentary on the History Channel and barely noted
Hank’s arrival.

“There’s coffee,” he said, without
taking his eyes off the television.

Hank helped himself to a cup and
stretched out on the sofa. Betty Boop ambled over for some
attention. He rubbed her behind her ears and she plopped at his
feet. He waited for a commercial break before he spoke.

“Dad.”

Henry found the remote and muted the
television.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“About what?” his dad
asked.

“I think I may be falling in love with
Melody Ravenswood.”

“I didn’t know you knew
her.”

“Don’t give me that crap. You made a
donation and arranged for her to write the article about it. I
wondered why you had me come over to review your tax returns so
early in the morning. It didn’t take me long to figure it out,
especially when you didn’t come home on time.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been found
out.”

Hank shook his head. His father didn’t
sound the least bit contrite about meddling in his son’s personal
life.

“Well, thanks. For once, you may have
done me a favor. Did you know who she was before you set me
up?”

“Yeah. You know I’ve always been a fan
of RavensBlood. When I heard her name, I thought it sounded
familiar, so I did a little digging.”

“You researched her on the
Internet.”

“Yep. It’s amazing what you can find
there.”

Hank groaned. “Well, she doesn’t want
anything to do with me. She has a lot of baggage, and I don’t know
if I’m strong enough to carry it all for her.”

“Sure you are. She’ll come around. I
suspect she came here to have a life, a real life. You manage it
pretty well, so I figure you can show her how to do it,
too.”

“What makes you think she came here so
she could have a life? Did it ever cross your mind she may have
come here for some other reason?”

“Like, to get an interview with you?
You don’t believe that any more than I do.”

“Why doesn’t she move to England? She
owns a castle or some-such there.”

“Maybe she wants more than to live
like a prisoner, no matter how luxurious the prison. What kind of
life would she have there? She’s young. And she must have led a
pretty sheltered life to have stayed out of the tabloids all these
years. Maybe she just wants to be normal, average.”

“And you think I’m normal and average?
I only fit the image when I’m in Willowbrook. I’m Hank the Hammer
when I’m on the road, her worst nightmare come to life.” The
epiphany hit him square between the eyes, and he sprang from the
sofa. “Oh shit! Nightmares. She has nightmares, Dad.”

He paced the small room. He’d never
been a demon slayer before, but the instinct was there, and he
couldn’t ignore it.

“Her father died when she was just a
kid. And tragically at that,” his dad said.

“Yeah, that would mess with your head,
for sure. I remember when it happened, and I didn’t even know the
man.”

“It was all over the news for
days.”

Hank sat back down, trying his best to
remember the details from so long ago. “Tell me what you remember
about how Earl Ravenswood died.”

* * *

Mel woke Monday morning in her own
bed, wearing the clothes she had worn to Dallas the previous
day—minus her shoes. She propped against the headboard and tried to
piece together her ragged memory of the night before.

She remembered leaving Dallas and
telling Hank she needed a nap. After that…nothing. He must have
carried her into the house and put her to bed. How else would she
have gotten here? She glanced at the clock and realized she had
slept for almost twelve hours. It was more sleep than she usually
managed in a week. Exhaustion had never been the answer before, so
what was different about last night?

She hurried through her shower,
already late for her day with Hank. She stopped at The Donut Hole
to get a chocolate and sugar infusion, and to see her
friend.

“Hi, girl!” Cathy greeted her. “Nice
party on Saturday. Thanks for inviting me. It was a great impromptu
class reunion.”

“All the thanks go to Hank. It was his
idea. He thought it would be easier for me to hear all the stories
in one place, rather than tracking everyone down. I think it may
have backfired somewhat. The stories got more outlandish as the day
went on. I’m not sure I believe half of them.”

“Smart girl. Some of the folks got a
little carried away. I can help you sort through them to get to the
real story.”

“Thanks. You read my mind. It’s not
too much of an imposition?”

“Not at all. Just tell me when. By the
way, congratulations.”

“For what?” She frowned.

“For snagging Hank Travis, of course.
He never looked at me the way he looks at you. If he had, I might
have accepted his invitation for a roll in the back of his pickup
when we were in high school.”

“He asked you to…uh, you
know?”

Cathy laughed and passed Mel’s usual
order across the counter. “Don’t get your panties in a wad. It was
a long time ago, and I turned him down flat. He has knobby knees,
remember?”

She told herself it wasn’t any of her
business what he had done when he was in high school, and the event
obviously meant nothing to Cathy. She pasted a smile on her face
and quipped, “Knobby knees, I remember. I should have some free
time on Sunday. Why don’t you come over, and we can go through all
the stories and try to sort fact from fiction.”

The date was set, and she headed for
the farm. Hank was in the utility room when she arrived.

“Do you always do your own
laundry?”

He stuffed jeans into the washer,
measured liquid detergent into the machine. “I send out my shirts
and dress slacks. When I’m at home, I do the rest myself. I also
clean my own toilets, and vacuum.” He made a face. “Actually, I do
all the housework.” He sounded pleased with himself.

“Why not hire someone to do
it?”

“It goes back to paying my personal
bills. Why invite trouble into my home? I could probably hire
someone from Willowbrook, but there’s something about a stranger
handling my underwear that bothers me.”

She smiled. “You’re a man of many
talents.”

She followed him to the kitchen where
she’d added a bag of doughnuts and two hot chocolates to his boxes
of cereal on the table.

“No fancy breakfast today?” she asked,
motioning to the boxes of sugarcoated cereal.

“Just lazy today. I see you brought
your own food. Tired of my cooking already?”

“No. I stopped to talk to Cathy, and
she assumed I was there for my usual. We can save them for
later.”

He dumped a giant scoop of kibble into
Betty Boop’s bowl and brought milk and orange juice to the table.
“Frosted Flakes okay with you?”

“You bet. They’re my
favorite.”

Mel fixed a bowl of cereal for herself
and passed the box to Hank. Soon, all three of them were crunching
away. Mel smiled at the simple domestic scene that felt more
comfortable than she could have ever imagined.

“What about you? Do you clean house
yourself, or do you have a housekeeper?” Hank asked.

“I do my own for the same reason you
do. Privacy. I grew up doing chores around the house, so I don’t
really mind.”

He studied her for a moment then
returned to his cereal. “How did you do it? Move to Willowbrook I
mean, without anyone finding out who you are?”

She put down her spoon and crossed her
arms on the table. “My middle name is a pretty good disguise, like
your haircut, and I’m incorporated, MHR investments. I bought the
house in cash, through the corporation, sight unseen. I hired a
real estate management company to rent it to me, and I pay myself
rent every month.”

“Clever. I’ll have to remember that
one. It could come in handy sometime. Does anyone in town, besides
me, know about you?”

“My boss does. The IRS wants their
share of the pittance he pays me, so unless I wanted to change my
name, he had to know. Cathy Anderson knows.”

“Did you tell her, or did she find out
on her own?”

“I told her. Why?”

“Just wondering. You can add Dad to
the list. He knew before I did.”

Her stomach clenched. A wave of nausea
swept through her. She fought the panic welling in her gut. “How
did he find out? Who has he told?”

He put a hand on her arm. “Relax. He
hasn’t told anyone, I’m sure. He didn’t even tell me. He just
arranged for us to meet, and rightfully guessed I’d figure it out
myself.”

“Are you saying he made the donation
just so I would interview him?”

“It’s worse. He lured me to his house
and conveniently arranged to be late, giving us a chance to meet. I
have to tell you, he’s pretty pleased with himself.”

Cold shivered down her spine, and an
overwhelming desire to run as far and fast as she could raced
through her system. All her careful planning really had been for
nothing. The life she’d envisioned in Willowbrook was nothing more
than an illusion.

“Mel, it’s okay. He won’t tell anyone.
He’s always been a RavensBlood fan. Your name rang a bell with him,
so he did the same thing I did, he ran an Internet
search.”

She rose on shaky legs and took her
cereal bowl to the sink. Dazed, she rinsed it and stowed it in the
dishwasher, and turned to him. “What did he hope to accomplish by
throwing us together?”

He rose and crossed the room to her.
He braced his hands on the counter, trapping her between them. “I
think he’s hoping to get a couple of grandkids out of it.” He
brushed his mouth across hers. “What do you think his chances are?”
He kissed her again, harder, their lips the only
contact.

Her toes curled, and her heart did a
somersault. Heat replaced the ice in her veins. His lips were soft,
incredibly warm. Her body yearned to answer the invitation his kiss
issued, but a small grain of sanity gave her the strength to push
against his chest. She couldn’t do it, couldn’t give in to the
things her body wanted. If she did, any hope she might have of
building a normal life for herself would be gone. “I think he
doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell.”

He kept her imprisoned
against the counter a moment longer before he stepped back and
allowed her to slip away. She closed the cereal boxes and returned
them to the pantry.
Normal. If you act
normal, you are normal.
She was all too
aware of his gaze following her as she took his bowl to the sink
and returned the juice to the refrigerator.

“I have work to do,” he said. “Are you
coming out to the barn with me?”

She froze with her hand on the
refrigerator door while she wrestled with her conflicting emotions.
It was hopeless. Her life in Willowbrook was a sham. Out of
necessity, she’d told one person in town who she really was, and
now the number was up to four. Every minute she spent in
Willowbrook, and especially every minute she spent in Hank’s
company increased the chances the whole world would find out who
she was. So why wasn’t she running?

The answer stood behind her, lounging
against the kitchen counter as if he hadn’t just kissed her
senseless. As if he wasn’t a threat to her sanity and her
existence. Everything about him intrigued her—from his farm boy
attitude to his immense talent and good looks. He’d pulled her into
his universe, and she was helpless to break free of his
gravitational pull.

“I’m coming,” she said, turning to
follow him out the door.

Chapter Eight

He pulled an electronic keyboard next
to his desk and retreated into his own world, inaccessible behind a
headset connected to the device, which in turn connected to the
open laptop computer. Mel kept busy, writing out questions and
observations while he worked on his composition. He tried notes on
the keyboard, sometimes scribbling furiously on staff paper,
sometimes working on the computer. With his reading glasses on, he
appeared less like a rock star but still lethally sexy, reminding
her of the first time she’d seen him. He seemed oblivious to his
sex appeal, which made him even more appealing.