A Creed in Stone Creek Part 19

By then they'd entered the kitchen, and Melissa gravitated straight to the dusty, wood-burning cookstove in the far corner. "Wow," she said. "I'm surprised some antiques dealer didn't score this a long time ago. My sister Ashley would kill to have it at the B&B. She'd probably even use use it." it."

Again, Steven smiled. "I take it Ashley's the domestic type," he said.

Melissa rolled her eyes. "You can say that again. That was her cooking we had last night at supper, remember. My My culinary repertoire is limited to deli salads and stuff from the freezer aisle at the supermarket." culinary repertoire is limited to deli salads and stuff from the freezer aisle at the supermarket."

"Mine isn't much better, I'm afraid," he told her. Sunlight streamed in through a dusty window and cast an aura around him. "We're having meat loaf tonight, you and I, but it's takeout from the Sunflower Cafe. Matt will probably be blown away by supper over at Brad and Meg's place-a decent meal, for once."

Melissa left the stove, overwhelmed by a strange, swift tenderness unlike anything she'd ever felt before.

She swallowed. So much for his being easy to talk to. "I think you take very good care of Matt," she said quietly.

"I try," Steven said, and she saw a flicker of sadness move in his eyes, quickly gone. "There's no denying that his mom and dad would have done a lot better job of raising him, though."

They were standing several feet apart, as they had before, out there in that bower of lilacs, but something electrical arced between them, undiminished by distance.

"What happened to them?" she asked. "Matt's parents, I mean."

For a moment, Melissa didn't think Steven was going to answer. When he did speak, he had to clear his throat first. "Jillie, Matt's mother, died of breast cancer close to two years ago," he said. "The grief got hold of Zack and it changed him. He was killed in a motorcycle wreck when Matt was four. I was named in both their wills as Matt's guardian."

"You must have been good friends, you and Jillie and Zack, if they trusted you to raise their child."

Pain moved in that handsome face, the features rugged and aristocratic, both at once. "We were good friends," he confirmed, after a long time.

She wanted very much to touch him then, not s.e.xually, but to offer comfort, one human being to another. She was careful not to move. "You legally adopted Matt," she said. Judge Carpenter had told her that, the first day. The day everything changed for Melissa.

"I figured it made sense," Steven replied, "and Matt was all for it."

"It can't be easy, being a single parent."

"Oh, believe me," Steven said, smiling again, "it isn't. But, just the same, I'd be hard put to think of anything more rewarding." He held out his hand once more, and she crossed to him, took hold. "This place will be a lot different when the contractor and his crews get through with it," he added.

Melissa's throat tightened. "Don't let them change it too much, too much," she said, without intending to say any such thing. It was none of her her business what Steven Creed did to his house. business what Steven Creed did to his house.

Steven cupped her cheeks in his hands then, and she knew by the touch of his palms that, professional man or not, he was no stranger to physical work. "I guess I probably shouldn't kiss you," he mused, his gaze focused on her mouth.

"I guess not," Melissa agreed, but weakly.

He kissed her-lightly at first, and then thoroughly.

She moaned and slipped her arms around his neck.

"It's too soon," she said breathlessly, when the kiss finally ended.

"I know," Steven rasped in reply.

After the longest moment of Melissa's life, he stepped back, away from her, let his hands fall to his sides. He was breathing hard, and a muscle bunched in his jawline, then smoothed out again.

They stood there, just looking at each other.

It was Steven who finally broke the silence, and what he said surprised her. A lot. "Tell me something about yourself, Melissa."

"Like what?"

Steven chuckled, standing there in a shifting mist of sun-speckled dust. Spread his hands. "What you love-what you hate-whether or not you believe in G.o.d. That sort of thing."

A smile tugged at the side of her mouth. She was relaxing a little-in spite of herself. "Oh, that," she said. She considered the question briefly. "Yes, I believe in G.o.d. I don't see how a person could help it, looking up at a sky full of stars, or in the early spring, when the gra.s.s comes up green, or watching a baby take those first few steps-"

So much for relaxing. Heat suffused Melissa's face. Why had she gone and blurted out a loaded word like baby? baby? The man was going to think she was one of those women for whom all roads lead to marriage and children. The man was going to think she was one of those women for whom all roads lead to marriage and children.

Steven was gracious enough to ignore her embarra.s.sment, obvious as it was. "I agree," he said. "I'm convinced because of thunderstorms, the kind that seem to shake the ground itself. And because of the way little kids laugh, from way down deep in their middle, just because they're so full of joy they can't hold it in."

Melissa's eyes smarted, and her throat thickened, too. "Yeah," she managed to croak out, after what seemed like a long time.

Steven smiled, stretched out a hand to her.

Melissa hesitated only briefly, then took it. He led her out of the house, with its benign ghosts and soft, musty shadows, into the deep gra.s.s that was once a lawn.

With a sweep of his free arm, he indicated the surrounding countryside. "Now it's your turn, Melissa," he said, his gaze resting gently on her face. "Show me the Stone Creek Ranch you remember, the parts of it you loved the best."

The request quickened something inside Melissa. "Okay," she said.

They took his truck, since there wouldn't have been room for Zeke in the roadster and neither of them had the heart to leave the dog behind.

She directed him to the pioneer cemetery first, the place where generations of O'Ballivans were buried, along with her dad and Big John, her grandfather.

"Olivia and I used to come up here on horseback all the time," Melissa confided, with a slight smile. "We were hoping to see a ghost and absolutely terrified that we might get our wish."

Steven grinned. "You and Olivia? What about Ashley?"

"She didn't care much for riding horses," she answered. "And even less for ghosts."

He laughed.

She loved the sound of his laugh.

"So," Steven began presently, looking around that peaceful place, "did you ever get your wish? See a ghost?"

She knew her answer would surprise him. "Once or twice, I thought I did," she said softly, remembering. "But it happened in the ranch house, not here."

Steven arched an eyebrow, ever so slightly, and the breeze raised tendrils of his hair, as if offering a mischievous caress. And he waited for her to elaborate.

"A glimpse of a figure, out of the corner of my eye, that's all it was," she said. She'd been comforted, rather than frightened, by the experience.

After a few moments, during which the two of them tacitly agreed that it was time to move on, Steven whistled for Zeke, who'd gone exploring amid the tall gra.s.s, sheltered, like the graves, within the cl.u.s.ter of flourishing oak trees.

Their next stop was the high ridge, with its spectacular view of both Stone Creek Ranch and, in the near distance, the town as well. Melissa had hoped for a sighting of King's Ransom, the legendary wild stallion that sometimes put in an appearance, but that day, he kept himself and his band of mares and foals well hidden.

"There's still the house, of course," Melissa said, once she was settled in the pa.s.senger seat of Steven's flashy truck again, figuring the tour was complete, "but since it's occupied, that part will have to wait."

Steven smiled, looked back at Zeke to make sure he was settled, and started up the engine.

Something had definitely changed between herself and Steven, Melissa thought. There was still tension, of course, but the strange sense of urgency had pa.s.sed. Being together seemed only natural now, and easy.

Things just sort of unfolded after that, with no hurry and no fretting and no drama.

"What will it be, Melissa?" he asked her, very quietly and after a long silence, when they were back at his place, inside the tour bus. "Is it now, or is it never?"

"How about now?" Melissa murmured, realizing, as her heartbeat quickened and her breath caught, that she was completely lost. If the scent of lilacs had made her drunk, this man's close proximity affected her like opium.

Of course she could have cited chapter and verse on why she shouldn't go to bed with Steven Creed-they'd only been acquainted for a couple of days, and that was just the start of it. He could be six kinds of b.a.s.t.a.r.d and a few besides, for all she knew.

But she also knew-had known from the moment they met, actually-that making love with him, for better or worse, for heaven or for heartbreak, was as inevitable as the turning of the seasons. known from the moment they met, actually-that making love with him, for better or worse, for heaven or for heartbreak, was as inevitable as the turning of the seasons.

Melissa had only been inside her brother's fancy bus a few times-Brad had expressly forbidden any of his three younger sisters to consort with his band-but she knew where the main bedroom was. And knew they were headed straight for it.

Steven laid her down on the bed gently, his eyes at once troubled and hungry. "Are you sure about this?" he asked.

Melissa nodded, swallowed. "I'm sure," she said.

Like h.e.l.l.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, pulled off his boots, tossed them aside. Otherwise, Steven was fully dressed, just as she was.

Turning his head to look down at her, he smiled very slightly. "You knew this would happen," he said. The statement might have been a mere guess, it might have been an accusation.

It might have been both.

"So did you," Melissa replied, scooting over, so he could stretch out beside her, which he did.

"Some things," he agreed, in that same gruff voice, "are written in the stars."

She smiled up at him. "You're a poet on top of all your other charms."

He laughed. "Woman," he said, easing the skirt of her sundress up over her knees and then higher still, to the middle of her thighs, "poetry is the least least of my charms." of my charms."

She felt so crazy-happy, and the emotion was all the sweeter because she knew it wouldn't last. The real real Melissa was hardheaded and practical, and wherever she'd gone, she'd definitely be back. With a vengeance. "And you're Melissa was hardheaded and practical, and wherever she'd gone, she'd definitely be back. With a vengeance. "And you're arrogant, arrogant, too." too."

But his face had changed. He sat up, frowning, touching her with just the tips of his fingers.

Melissa remembered the cuts and bruises she'd sustained that morning, though she couldn't actually feel feel a single one of them. No, all she felt was Steven's caress, and the desire for more contact and then still more. a single one of them. No, all she felt was Steven's caress, and the desire for more contact and then still more.

"This happened today?" he asked. "When you were almost almost hit by a car?" hit by a car?"

Melissa bit her lower lip. "Yes," she said. "But-"

He met her gaze, his expression grave. "You're hurt," he said. And just like that, he was up and off the bed, moving away from her. He disappeared into the bathroom and returned almost immediately with a drugstore first-aid kit.

Still adjusting to the shift in mood, Melissa nearly laughed, out of pure nervousness, and started to shinny upright.

Steven stopped her, though, with just a look.

"You keep a first-aid kit handy?" she asked.

Stupid question, since he obviously did. But there it was.

"I have a five-year-old son," he reminded her.

He set the white plastic box aside, on the table next to the bed, and that was when she noticed that he'd just happened to bring a small, easily recognizable packet along, too.

A condom. Antic.i.p.ation returned, washing over Melissa in one great tsunami-like wave.

"Let's get you out of that dress," he said next.

And he simply whisked the whole thing right off over her head, without any sort of wasted motion.

Melissa had been undressed by a few men before, of course, but never in such a deft and matter-of-fact way. The yearning, strong before, pressed on her like a weight now, making it hard for her to breathe.

"That was-direct," she gasped, as a flush moved from her hairline to her toes. Goose b.u.mps rose in its wake.

"I'm nothing if not direct," Steven said. Then he began applying some kind of medicine to her injuries, lightly and with skill.

"I've already used ointment," she struggled to say. Her body wanted to rise to him, to the touch of his hands, her back wanted to arch and her legs to part.

"Well, now you're getting more," Steven answered.

Oh, G.o.d, Melissa thought desperately, as his fingertips moved like a whispering breeze over the tingling flesh of her thighs and her knees, then her arms and shoulders. Melissa thought desperately, as his fingertips moved like a whispering breeze over the tingling flesh of her thighs and her knees, then her arms and shoulders.

He gave another of those raspy chuckles she was beginning to recognize as a hallmark of his personality. "Oh, lady, as roughed up as you are, you are beyond beyond beautiful." beautiful."

Apparently, they were past the first-aid stage.

Melissa suppressed a moan of pure need as she watched Steven stand up, unb.u.t.ton his shirt partway, and then impatiently haul the garment off over his head.

His chest was broad, his muscle tone was good and a light dusting of hair, the color of brown sugar, caught the light.

"You're sure?" he asked again.

The longer she looked at him, the surer she was.

"Yes," she said. It was an ache, that simple word.

He didn't take off his jeans then, which was probably a mercy, Melissa figured, because she already wanted him so badly that she might have bolted right up off that bed and tackled him to the floor if she'd seen what was under them. Not that his erection didn't show, because it strained against that thin layer of denim.

The mattress dipped and he was beside her again, gathering her close, deftly unhooking her bra, so that skin met skin. Kissing her so deeply, so thoroughly, that she couldn't hold still any longer.

Her body flexed on the bed, already slick with need, and burning. Burning everywhere. She was on fire, and nothing had even happened yet.

She felt his thumb slide under the elastic on her panties, and then those were gone, too, as easily as if they'd dissolved under the heat of his hand.