Melinda Darling let out a squeak as she hit bottom turning into the pothole-infested gravel parking lot of the Irish Town Pub.
“Please, please, please don’t need any repairs,” she muttered to her car. “I just had you in, and I can’t spend another dime until payday, so please, please, please.”
Slowing to a crawl, she made her way toward the front door of the old warehouse-turned-pub. The only thing the least bit Irish she could see was the color and the name—Kelly green covered the entire metal box, and there was a shamrock over the “i” in Irish—but the metal stairs leading up to the enclosed porch screamed “warehouse entrance” not “friendly neighborhood pub.” Not that Mel had ever been to Ireland to see what a real Irish pub looked like in person, but she had seen The Quiet Man and Darby O’Gill and the Little People, so she knew what a pub was supposed to look like, and this place simply did not mesh at all with what she had imagined for an Irish pub. Nor did the rows of beefy motorcycles lining the front of the building. Mel groaned once more as she brought her compact car to a stop next to a rusty blue van.
“What am I doing here?” she cried.
But of course she knew very well what she was doing here: Trying to save her job is what she was doing here. Fresh out of college with a master’s degree in music business, she had charged onto the country western scene in the Music City ready to discover and manage the newest and greatest bands Nashville had ever seen. Then reality had set in, as she learned that, like guitar players, Nashville was simply crawling with agent wannabes, and she had been forced to settle for an entry-level job with an established firm. Her “boss from hell,” Kitty Konstantine, kept all her minions out late at night, seven nights a week, trolling the small-time venues for the best and brightest new musicians and bands she would then “discover.” Fat bonuses and promotions had been promised to those minions who delivered, but in reality, following the “Konstantine Rules” barely allowed Mel to pay the rent and keep the lights on.
“But why did they have to come here?” she moaned. “Couldn’t they have been seen hanging out at a pizza joint or a Mickey D’s?”
The “they” in question were the members of a country western band she had heard the night before in a little dive down on Belmont Boulevard near her old haunts from her university days. They called themselves The 4 Saints, which had seemed a little weird until she’d learned the four members were brothers with the last name of Saint. Their music had absolutely enthralled her. Traditional in style, as they all played acoustical instruments only—guitar, double bass, mandolin, fiddle, and drums—they had a new, different sound when they sang, because there wasn’t a tenor among them. All four sang bass or baritone, and their voices had blended in a way that only siblings who had sung together all their lives could. They performed all their own songs, which had been a happy mix of up-beat tunes and ballads; hilarious and solemn; family-friendly and sexy.
When she’d first walked in, they’d been singing a song about animals on a farm that had had the audience rolling with laughter, but by the time she’d taken her seat at the bar, they’d switched to a love song, a ballad that had nearly broken her heart. There had been something about all of the brothers that had left her feeling as though they’d been singing directly to her, and at one point, the lead singer—the guitarist—had met her eyes across the room, and she’d almost melted on the spot. She’d told herself later that of course he hadn’t been singing that song to her, personally, but when she closed her eyes, she could still see him.
Those eyes were not something she was likely to forget any time soon, for even from a distance that deep golden color had seemed to look right into her deepest places. All four young men were big—tall and straight, with broad shoulders, slender waists, and muscular arms and legs. Their costumes were nothing more than worn jeans and flannel shirts over white t-shirts, as though there was nothing special about what they were doing. Every brother had dark, rich, wavy hair that varied in color from mink to beaver, and all but the youngest had a distinctive five-o’clock shadow. After watching them for a time, she realized they all shared the leader’s golden eyes, too, a fact that had tickled something at the back of her mind, but after a time, she’d dismissed it as unimportant. She’d had to remind herself to breathe more than once throughout the evening, and if she hadn’t been called away by a text message from Kitty, she would have stayed right where she was until they’d turned out the lights.
The really frustrating part was that Kitty had had another, totally inane errand for her to run, and by the time she’d gotten back to the bar, The 4 Saints had been gone. It was the bartender who had told her that they liked to play pool at a place called the Irish Town Pub south of the airport, so here she was, desperately hoping they were here this evening. She hadn’t told Kitty about the band; there was no way she was going to give anyone the chance to steal this discovery until after she’d had a long talk with them. They were good enough that getting them on her side might make the difference between getting real credit for her discovery and taking a back seat to The Boss once more.
“Courage is being scared to death...and saddling up anyway,” she quoted softly.
That was all well and good for John Wayne, she supposed, but as Mel stepped out of the car, she was more than a little aware of the fine line between courage and pure foolishness. It was one of those scary still nights, when even the summer “peepers” seemed to be alert and waiting for something to happen. She crossed the rough parking lot warily, careful to miss the muddy puddles and wishing she were wearing flat shoes instead of the three-inch heels Kitty insisted her minions wear in public. The night was hot and humid, not at all unusual for early June in Nashville, and she hoped the air conditioning in the pub wasn’t so high that she’d end up freezing once she was inside. Somehow she didn’t think the cardigan sweater she always carried in her car would make much of an impression if she pulled it on over her skinny black dress.
Mel climbed the concrete steps and paused only long enough to check her reflection in the polished steel door. She saw clearly what everyone else saw: Miss Average—average height, average figure, clear complexion dotted with freckles, and shoulder-length, curly auburn hair, which had been the bane of her existence since the first grade. Running her hands through her hair one last time in an attempt to flatten it down in spite of the humidity, she told herself to relax, opened the door, and stepped inside.
* * *
Mel hesitated as the door closed automatically at her back, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim light which was little improved over the dusk enshrouded parking lot. As her surroundings became clearer, she saw a long wooden bar on the left and pockets of light fanning out on the right, where steel pendent work lights hung over a collection of bare round tables with beat-up metal chairs. There were blackout blinds on the wide front windows, and decorations were limited to car and motorcycle parts and posters. It took her only a moment to realize everyone in the bar was staring at her. Her second thought was that they were mostly men, rough-looking men, who were running their eyes along her slim form from head to toe as though undressing her. Suppressing a shudder, she took a deep breath and smelled cigarette smoke, beer, fried food, and sweat. The men all seemed to be dressed in leather, their heads wrapped in colorful bandanas. When she looked closer, she saw there were a few women present, but most of them wore leather, too, though theirs had fringe and sometimes sparkling beads. Swallowing hard, Mel turned toward the bar, where she noticed two other women dressed in matching shorts and tight blouses that highlighted their ample breasts. They carried trays with glasses and beer bottles.
One of the waitresses took a step toward her.
“You lost?” she asked, her voice raspy, probably from cigarette smoke, since this bar obviously ignored the city’s recommendations on indoor smoking bans.
Mel had to clear her throat before she could speak.
“No,” she managed. “I’m actually looking for someone.”
“You a cop?” a huge man wearing a dirty Titans cap asked belligerently from a table near the front.
His question was met with guffaws from around the room.
“If she’s a cop, then I’m a hooker,” another huge, burly man said.
“If you’re not a cop, ya got no business in here,” another man said, as he turned back to the card game he had been playing with four other men, including Titans Cap.
“I’m actually looking for someone,” Mel said, hoping there was at least one person here who would help her.
“I guess you found someone, sugar,” a tall, greasy looking man sneered, straightening from the bar. He was dressed in a stained western shirt of indiscernible original color. His flashy belt buckle might have once been a hubcap.
“No! I mean I’m looking for someone specific. The Saint brothers.”
“Ain’t no saints in here, lady,” one of the women said, eliciting more laughter.
“No, I don’t mean men who are saints. I mean a group of men whose name is Saint.”
There were more crude comments and laughter, and she almost gave up, until the bartender caught her eye and gestured toward a door at the far end of the bar.
“Back room,” he said, wiping down the bar with what looked like a very dirty rag.
Mel swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
She headed that way only be stopped by the oily man.
“Whatcha need them for?” he asked, reaching out to take her arm.
“Please, sir,” she said, fighting to keep fear from her voice. “I’m here on business.”
The man grinned. “Well, I can give you plenty of business, girly.”
Mel tried to shake off his hand, but he reached for her other arm and pulled her to him, turning in such a way as to pin her against the bar.
“What? I’m not good enough for ya, girly?”
He shoved her back hard enough that she knew she would have a bruise across her back. She fought him, calling for help, but the others just laughed and egged him on. When he released her with one hand to grab painfully onto her breast, she managed to twist and drop as she had once been taught in a self-defense class, and brought her elbow up into his groin, but he twisted at the last second, and she only got his thigh.
“Try to castrate me, will ya?” he shouted, grabbing the bodice of her dress with one hand and backhanding her with the other.
Her bodice tore, and she went flying; the back of her head hit the hardwood bar front with a sickening “thunk.” Blackness danced at the edges of her vision as she slid down to the floor. Then the man was on her, tearing the rest of her dress away.
Mel thought she screamed but couldn’t be certain. Then there was a ferocious-sounding roar and the man on top of her disappeared. More screams followed, and Mel struggled futilely to see what was going on, but all she saw was a chaotic mass of dark shadows throwing people around. Shouts and screams were so loud they hurt her head, and she finally closed her eyes, resigned to whatever fate brought.
Then suddenly, a single male voice reached her.
“Easy now,” he said, and the voice was low-pitched with a hint of a rumble.
When hands lay on her shoulders, she tensed in anticipation of another blow, but these hands, though big, were gentle as they steadied her. Light fingers reached around to feel the back of her head, and Mel cried out in pain.
“Sorry ’bout that,” he said, as she felt him lightly searching through her hair. “The skin’s not broken, but you’ve got a helluva lump coming on. Can you look at me, now?”
Mel managed to open her eyes and found herself staring into familiar deep golden eyes. She couldn’t stop trembling. After a long moment of studying her, the man finally smiled.
“How many fingers,” he asked, holding his hand in front of her face.
Mel blinked hard and tried to focus on his fingers.
“Two,” she said, surprised somewhat that her voice actually worked.
Unable to meet his eyes again, she glanced down and stared in shock. The man who had attacked her had ripped the top of her dress away, and since she hadn’t been able to wear a bra with that clingy black sheath, she was completely naked from the waist up.
“Oh, my God!”
She felt herself blushing deeply as she fumbled with the tattered remains of her dress in a frantic attempt to cover her nakedness.
“Here. Take this.”
The man quickly pulled off his flannel shirt and helped her into it. She’d never felt so embarrassed or so helpless. He had to guide her fumbling arms into the sleeves, and when her uncoordinated fingers couldn’t manage the buttons, he brushed her hands away and buttoned it up for her. When he had finished, she hugged the shirt close to her. The flannel was soft and warm and smelled of something musky but not unpleasant.
“We need to get you outta here,” he said. “Do you think you can stand?”
Mel nodded then wished she hadn’t. “I think so.”
“Okay. Here we go.”
His strength left her dazed as he pulled her effortlessly to her feet. When she wobbled and would have gone down, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close against him. She could feel the hardness of him through his t-shirt, and while strong men normally made her very nervous, for once she was content to rest her head against a sturdy shoulder.
“Your kind ain’t welcome here,” someone growled.
Mel managed to look up and see it was the bartender who had spoken. He held a baseball bat in his hands and looked as though he was ready to use it on someone.
“Hey, we’re not the ones who tried…”
An older man, who had the same build, coloring, and eyes as her rescuer, laid one big hand on the shoulder of a younger man who was obviously related, effectively silencing him.
“We won’t be back,” the man said, reaching into his pocket and laying a wad of cash on the counter.
“See that you don’t,” the bartender spat, scooping up the money.
“No worries.”
The big man patted the younger on the shoulder, and they turned toward her.
“You need any help?” the man asked.
She felt the man holding her shake his head. “I have her.”
“Good. Let’s get out of here.”
As they were leaving, Mel managed to look around the room. All the tough-looking bikers were just standing around, staring at her rescuers and looking uneasy. No one said another word or made a move to stop them. Then she saw the man who had assaulted her. He was lying on the floor, moaning. His shirt was in tatters, as though it had been ripped apart by claws, and there was blood everywhere.
Dear God…
She felt the man helping her tighten his hold when she hesitated.
“Don’t look,” he whispered for her ears only. “The bastard only got what he deserved.”
Okay, so she wasn’t quite willing to argue with him about it, but his strength made her tremble all the harder, and she wondered if she was going into shock.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire? She had to wonder when the warm night air closed in about her as they left the bar, her escort all but carrying her down the stairs and across the parking lot, the other men with yellow eyes watching their backs.
* * *
“Where are your car keys?” the man asked.
“In my—my purse! Where’s my purse?”
“Got it right here,” one of the younger men said, producing her small evening clutch. “I figured it was too fancy for the other ladies inside,” he added with a grin as he handed it to her.
“Good call,” someone said.
Mel fumbled with the latch, and finally the older man stepped in to open her purse, pull out her keys, and hand them to the man holding her.
“Where are we going?” she asked weakly, as he used the remote to unlock the door then helped her into the passenger seat.
“I’m taking you home, as soon as you tell me where that is,” he said, reaching for her seatbelt.
“Think we’re gonna have trouble with that crowd?” one of the others asked, and Mel looked up to see the five men staring at the front door of the pub.
“Not too likely,” another said. “It’s not like the guy didn’t have it comin’ to him. Besides, they won’t want the cops crawlin’ all over the place, considerin’ how much illegal gamblin’ they got goin’ on.”
“There’s that,” the older man said. “Let’s back straight out, though,” he added. “No need to give ’em a look at our plates.”
“Got it,” her rescuer said.
“Where do you live, darlin’?” the older man asked, and for a moment Mel wondered how on earth they knew her name until she realized it was just an endearment to the man.
She hesitated. Did she really want these men to know where she lived?
“We’re either takin’ you home or to a hospital, darlin’,” he said. “I gotta figure you’d prefer home.”
Mel took a deep breath. “A little north and east of downtown, in a place called Lockeland Springs.”
“Good choice.”
He turned to her rescuer. “You remember where that is?”
“You bet.”
“Then we’ll follow you. Get the details as we go. I wanna get out of here.”
Her rescuer nodded, and checking to see that her door was clear, he closed it softly and headed for the drivers’ side. The others all piled into the rusty van she had parked beside. For once her car started without a hitch, and he backed slowly toward the road, leaving the headlights off until they hit blacktop. The lights in the van came on behind them, and she wasn’t certain of whether that made her feel better or worse.
“You with me?” the man asked.
“I’m here.”
“Good. I’m still thinkin’ it might be a good idea to get you to a doctor on account of that bump on the head you took.”
“No doctor, please.” She was certain she couldn’t afford the copay on an emergency room visit. “I’ll be fine, I promise. Thanks to you.”
She laid her head back against the seat and turned to watch him. The lights from the dashboard only emphasized his chiseled features. She remembered the stage lights had done the same to him and his brothers. They were a fierce-looking group, their physical similarities echoed by the deepness of their voices. The older man had both looked and sounded much the same, and she was almost certain he must be related, too.
“Mr. Saint…”
“Matt,” he corrected, shooting her a smile with a quick glance.
“All right. Matt.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know quite how to thank you for what you did back there.”
He seemed to consider. “I guess you could start by tellin’ me who you are and what the heck you were doin’ there in the first place.”
“My name is Melinda Darling.”
Matt grinned. “So Uncle Bart was right to call you darlin’?”
She cringed. “I prefer Mel.”
“Okay, Mel. So what were you doin’ in the Irish Town Pub?”
“I was looking for you.”
At his sharp glance, she backtracked. “I was looking for you and your brothers, that is. I heard your performance last night.”
He seemed puzzled for a moment then turned to look at her with a broad smile that reached his eyes.
“You’re that woman at the bar,” he said, as though finally remembering where he had seen her before.
“There were a lot of women at the bar last night.”
“Yeah, but you were the only one I noticed.”
Mel felt herself blush and was thankful for the dim light.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s true, all the same.”
Someone tried to cut them off, and Matt had to slam on the breaks to keep from hitting the idiot. Mel held her breath then let it out in relief when Matt simply backed off instead of needing to prove his manhood to the other driver.
“You weren’t there when we finished,” he said, as though their conversation had not been interrupted.
“No. I was called away. By the time I got back, you and your brothers were gone, but the bartender told me you liked to play pool at that place.”
He cursed under his breath. “I can’t believe you went there alone.”
“Not one of my brighter moments,” she admitted.
“So why did you?”
“You’ll want to turn right here,” she directed, avoiding his question, “then take an immediate left onto Clearview.”
He followed her instructions, checking his rearview mirror to make sure the van was still with them.
“So why did you?” he repeated.
“Turn left at the third traffic light—on Fourteenth Street—then look for Gartland Avenue and turn right.”
“You’re gonna have to tell me sooner or later, you know.”
“Later,” she said, “so I can tell you all at once.”
Matt didn’t look happy about it, but he stopped asking questions and continued to follow her directions.
“Here’s my street, but keep going—there’s an alley behind the house, and a small parking lot. You guys won’t be able to leave your van there overnight, but it’ll be fine for now.
They turned left and found a bright security light marking the small gravel lot behind an old three-story house. Mel directed him to her parking spot then had to wait for him to come around to help her out of the car, because, she didn’t think she’d make it on her own. The van pulled in behind them and after turning around, took a spot on the far end of the lot, just off the street. As Matt helped Mel out of the car, she saw the big, burly shadows that were his brothers approach, and her mind flashed back to what she didn’t want to believe she’d seen at the bar.
In for a penny, in for a pound, as her grandmother used to say. She decided her questions would have to wait until she was sitting down.
“I’m on the third floor,” she told them, as she used her key to let them into the back door.
Chapter 4
The Lockeland Springs historic neighborhood was a gentrified turn-of-the-20th-century area. The houses had all been preserved and renovated, with a few of them—like hers—turned into multi-family housing. Though she’d never be able to afford to buy a place here, the rent on the smallest of this historic home’s three apartments was just within her reach—if she watched what she spent on everything else and kept the AC turned up in the summer and the heat turned down in the winter to keep her electric bills down.
One thing this house didn’t have was an elevator, and once she had struggled as far as the first landing, Matt gently lifted her into his arms and carried her the rest of the way. Mel didn’t put up even a token protest, which she was certain told the men all they needed to know about how bad she really felt. When they entered her apartment, she directed them to the front, where the combined kitchen/living room sat overlooking the street. Matt carefully set her down in the kitchen, and she gratefully sank onto one if the wooden chairs at the round corner table.
“You got any aspirin around here?” Matt asked.
Mel had to think a moment. “I have some generic acetaminophen. It’s in the upper cabinet to the left of the sink.”
Matt got it down and opened it for her. “Water okay, or you want something else.”
“Water’s fine.”
Matt poured her a small glass he found in the same cabinet then handing her the glass, sat beside her at the table. Mel swallowed the pills then laid her head in her hand. Matt gently rubbed her back and neck until she finally looked up at them.
“Won’t you sit down?” she asked. “There are a couple more chairs in the next room you could pull up.”
“I don’t need to sit down, darlin’,” the older man said. “I only need some answers.”
“Introductions, first,” Matt said, continuing to rub her back. “Mel, these are my brothers—John, Mark, and Luke.” He indicated each of the three younger men in turn. “And this is our Uncle Bart. Everybody, this is Melinda Darling. Mel, she likes to be called.”
“Uncle Bart’s here to keep us out of trouble,” John, the youngest, said as he pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down across from her.
“And I got you all into trouble tonight,” Mel said, hugging Matt’s flannel shirt to herself. “I’m so sorry.”
Bart shook his head, looking resigned, but he took the chair next to her. “These yahoos don’t need any help gettin’ into trouble, ma’am, but I’d sure like to know what tonight was all about.
“She tell you anything on the way back?” he asked Matt.
Matt shook his head. “Only that she heard us play last night, and she needs to talk to us.”
“Hey, that was you at the bar last night!” Luke said. “I just knew I’d seen you someplace.”
“And you were playing the mandolin and fiddle,” she said, attempting a smile.
“That’s right.” He leaned against the wall, between the front windows, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
Mel glanced around and marveled at the presence of these five huge men in her tiny little apartment. Then she thought about what she’d imagined she’d seen at the pub and felt herself go suddenly still.
“What did the barman mean when he said, ‘your kind’ isn’t welcome here?” she asked softly.
Matt’s hand faltered on her back for a moment then began moving again. She glanced up and saw Matt and Bart exchange looks. The others were looking to Bart.
“What do you remember, exactly,” Bart asked. He kept his gravelly voice low, she supposed, so he wouldn’t alarm her, but it had the opposite effect.
She took a deep breath. “I’m not certain. That…man had me pinned up against the bar, then he hit me, and I went down. I thought I was going to pass out, but then I heard…something. It was like a loud, well, roar, I guess, then the man who had attacked me was pulled away, and…”
“All hell broke loose,” Mark said, snagging her kitchen stool with a foot and dragging it over to sit on.
He should have looked silly, but the fact that he was tall enough to see over the table, even though he was sitting on a low stool, only emphasized how big they all were.
“Please tell me what happened.”
Bart glanced around at the others and took a deep breath. Then he nodded at Matt.
“You must have heard stories,” Matt said, “about how sometimes some people, well, change into something else.”
Mel started. She stared at Matt then around at the others. She was suddenly very conscious of their deep, golden eyes as they watched her. She had noticed their eyes last night, but now she saw that Bart, too, had them.
“You’re…?”
“The word you’re lookin’ for is ‘Shifter.’ We are. All of us.”
“It sort of runs in the family,” John said, sounding awfully cheerful about it. “At least on Pop’s side. Our Ma never Shifted, and our sisters don’t, either.”
“It’s usually the male line,” Mark said, “though there’ve been a few women along the way.”
“So what, you just…become…something else? Whenever you feel like it?”
“Bears,” John said. “In our clan, it’s always been bears.”
Mel raised her eyebrows in surprise. The youngest Saint seemed too cheerful about it all.
“And it’s not whenever we feel like it, exactly,” Luke explained. “Well, when we’re kids, when we’re just comin’ into it, we tend to Shift whenever and wherever, which can be pretty darn awkward.”
“But once puberty hits,” Mark said, “we become pretty good at controllin’ it.”
“Unless we feel threatened,” Bart explained. “Shiftin’ is all about survival, so if we feel threatened—or if someone we care about is threatened—we sometimes Shift without thinkin’ about it.”
“That’s what happened tonight,” John said. “Matt went in to get us some more beer, saw you bein’ attacked, and he just instinctively Shifted.”
“And then when we heard him,” Luke said, “we had to jump in to protect both of you by keepin’ that nasty crowd back while Matt dealt with the lowlife who had you.”
“But you don’t even know me,” Mel said, looking at Matt.
John snorted. “Our big brother’s always stickin’ up for the little guy or gal against bullies. I mean, it’s in his DNA.”
The others laughed, but Matt just continued to massage her neck gently with his powerful fingers. She could feel the calluses caused by his guitar strings on her bare skin and shivered. He smiled, then, as though he knew what he was doing to her.
“That takes us back to the first question,” Bart said. “What the heck were you doin’ in that bar tonight, young lady?”
Mel had to work to bring her gaze away from Matt’s. She took a deep breath as she fought to bring her mind back to where it belonged.
“I work for the Konstantine Talent Agency. My job is to visit as many night spots as I can, looking for promising bands and other performers for the Agency to represent. I got called away last night when my boss texted me, and by the time I got back, you guys had already packed up and left. So I asked around, and the bartender told me where you like to play pool when you’re in town.
“I know it sounds ridiculous, now, but the bartender said it was your last night performing there, and he didn’t know where you were going next or if you were even going to stay in Nashville. I just didn’t want to take the chance that I couldn’t find you again. My job depends on finding great artists, and I haven’t been having a lot of luck lately, so I decided to take a chance this once.
“Looking back, it was a pretty foolish thing to do, but I was desperate, because I just knew if I didn’t bring you in, someone else would find you and take all the credit. I couldn’t take that chance. I’m skating on pretty thin ice with my boss as it is these days, because I haven’t found anyone worthy of her notice as yet. If I don’t find something soon, she’ll probably fire me, and I won’t be able to pay next month’s rent.”
“Your boss sounds like a real piece of work,” Bart said, “expectin’ a young gal like you to take chances like that.”
Mel shook her head then wished she hadn’t. “It’s just the way things are in the business. It’s really cutthroat. And there aren’t that many jobs available these days. I can’t afford to lose this one.”
Bart sighed. “Okay.”
They were all quiet for a moment, thinking—she assumed—about her foolishness.
“Well, no real harm done,” Matt said. “Why don’t I put you to bed, Mel. We can talk about this in the mornin’.”
“What?”
“You’re beat, and I’ll bet your head feels like it’s about to fall right off. Let me get you into bed, so you can get some sleep. The others can go back to our hotel for the night then come back in the morning, and we’ll figure out what to do about your boss.”
“But you can’t stay here,” Mel said.
“Either one of us stays, or you’re goin’ to a hospital,” Bart said, standing up. “No arguments, young lady. We don’t take any chances with head injuries.”
“But…”
“Don’t worry,” Matt said, getting up, too. “I can sleep on the couch. Won’t be the first time.”
Mel wasn’t certain of when she had lost control, but the next thing she knew, Matt’s brothers and uncle were stomping down the back stairs, and Matt was leading her into her bedroom.
* * *
“I really am perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” she said testily then gave herself away when she had to grab for the foot of the bed to keep from falling on her face.
“Of course you are, darlin’,” Matt said cheerfully. “Don’t mind me. I’m just here in case you need a hand with somethin’. Now, why don’t you tell me where you keep your nightgowns?”
Mel looked up sharply. “What makes you think I don’t sleep in pajamas?”
Matt narrowed his eyes and seemed to study her closely.
“Nope. I got five sisters, and you’re definitely a nightie kind of gal.”
Mel sighed and gave up. “The top drawer, on the left.”
Matt headed for her dresser. Mel was relieved when he simply took the long sleep shirt that was on top.
He was grinning when he returned to her, though.
“You got good taste, darlin’.”
He had picked up her denim-colored, full-length, Winnie-the-Pooh night shirt, and she could tell he was pleased with her bear connection. When she reached for it, he set it beside her on the bed.
“Let me help you with those buttons,” he said, reaching for the front of his shirt.
“No!”
“You still nervous around me?” he asked, looking perplexed.
She swallowed hard and dropped her eyes. “Look, I know you’ve already seen me naked once tonight, but I…”
He reached his hand out to her cheek and raised her eyes to his.
“This time I won’t look. I promise.”
“But…”
“Look, I know you’re still scared of me, but if you’re wonderin’ if I’m gonna jump you, don’t even think it. I’m not the kind of guy who’s gonna try to take advantage of a gal whose hurtin’ and scared. Like I said, we have five sisters, and we all lived in a three-bedroom, one-bath house growin’ up, so I’m real good at dealin’ with women on a lot of levels.”
He grinned then. “I promise I won’t try to compromise you—at least not until your feelin’ a lot better than you do right now.”
Her head reeling from the now throbbing pain, Mel conceded defeat and dropped her hands. His were both gentle and impersonal as he helped her out of his flannel shirt and dropped the night shirt over her head then pulled what was left of her dress away. Then he helped her to the bathroom and shut the door behind her for privacy. Mel stood clinging to the counter and stared at herself in the mirror.
Not any reason at all to worry about Matt’s intentions tonight, she thought. Not when you look like this.
Her night shirt revealed bruises on her arms and neck where her attacker had man-handled her, and her cheek was turning a sickly yellow color where he had punched her. One eye was a little puffy, too, and she wondered if she would end up with a black eye by morning.
Sighing, Mel took care of business, brushing her teeth, carefully combing out the worst of the tangles in her hair, gently washing her face, and using the necessary. Matt was waiting for her outside, his flannel shirt back in place and buttoned up. He helped her to bed and tucked her in. When she sighed in relief, he reached out to touch her hair, now spread out on the pillow.
“It’s like sunrise on the mountain after the first hard frost,” he said.
Mel smiled. “And you’re a songwriter. This hair has been the bane of my existence ever since I first started school.
“It’s beautiful,” he insisted.
“Thank you.”
He leaned down, kissed her softly on her brow, and turned out the bedside lamp.
“Matt?”
“Yeah?”
She hesitated. “I’m glad you stayed, but…”
“What is it?”
“It’s just that…Well…Do you really only…Shift…when you’re in danger?”
Matt smiled. “We can Shift any time. It’s just that sometimes, when things happen—like tonight—we Shift without thinkin’ about it as the survival instincts just kick in without warnin’.”
“Could you…I mean, would you…Shift…now? Just so I can see you…like that…when you’re not…angry?
Matt’s smile broadened into a grin, which slowly morphed into something more, and before she knew it, he was a great big bear. His coat, like his human hair, was mostly dark brown, though the shades ranged from dark chocolate on his legs and belly to a lighter beaver color on his back and ending with a warm, sandy color on his long snout. His nose was big and black and looked cold and wet.
Mel knew she should be afraid. Good heavens, there was a bear in her bedroom! But somehow she didn’t feel afraid, for the twinkle she had seen in Matt’s golden eyes hadn’t gone away when he’d Shifted into his bear form.
“Thank you,” she whispered, awed by this truly handsome beast.
She heard a low rumbling that she could have sworn was a chuckle, and Matt laid his snout on the edge of her bed, nudging her lightly. Mel smiled sleepily and reached out to gently caress his face. Matt licked her fingers then turned away to head for the hallway. He rose onto his powerful hindquarters at the doorway and moved the light switch with his nose.
“Good night, Matt,” she called softly.
Matt glanced over his shoulder and snuffled.
Mel giggled, and turning onto her side in order to relieve the pressure on the back of her head, she allowed herself to fall asleep.
* * *
Mel woke slowly and turned to look at her clock, only to moan when the back of her head connected with the pillow. She tried to lie still, waiting for the pain to pass, but after a time, she heard voices coming from the living room.
“Please tell me I didn’t leave the T.V. running all night,” she grumbled.
Then she registered the tone of those voices and froze.
They’re back!
Throwing aside her blankets, she struggled to a sitting position and waited for the world to stop spinning. It didn’t take as long as she’d expected, and she managed to make it into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, she emerged from her bedroom, pulling a sweater on over the yellow camp shirt she had tucked into a pair of slender jeans.
“Hey there,” Matt said when she appeared in the kitchen.
“Good mornin’,” Luke said, making way for her at the table.
“I hope you don’t mind us borrowin’ your kitchen,” Bart said, as he flipped pancakes in one of her square frying pans.
“Not at all,” she said, surprised to find it was the truth.
“Uncle Bart’s famous for his flapjacks,” John assured her, reaching into her cabinet for another plate on which he placed some crispy bacon before handing the plate to Bart for some pancakes. He set the plate down in front of Mel.
“Uh, I don’t usually eat a big breakfast,” she said.
“Did you even take the time for dinner last night?” Bart asked.
Mel had to think about it. “I guess not.”
“Then eat up, darlin’,” he said. “We got a long day ahead of us, and you need feedin’ up for it.”
Mel couldn’t help but smile—until she noticed the kitchen clock.
“Oh, my God. I am so late.”
She tried to stand up too quickly, though, and Matt grabbed her before she could faint.”
“Easy, darlin’,” he said, carefully lowering her to her chair.
“You don’t understand. I’ll lose my job for sure, if I’m three hours late for work!”
“Now, how can you be goin’ into work, if you’re busy recruitin’ the Konstantine Talent Agency’s newest band?” Mark asked.
Mel looked around at all of them, a flicker of hope sparking as she saw they were serious.
“Do you mean it?” she asked.
“Well, there’re some stipulations that need to be met, before we sign any contract,” Bart said, lifting the last of the pancakes onto a plate and reaching to turn off the burner before joining her at the table with his own breakfast. “We’ve all seen what the ‘country western’ set has become, and the boys aren’t gonna go along with most of it.”
Mel swallowed her bite of pancake and eyed Bart closely.
“What do you mean?”
“He means we don’t hold with all the electronic stuff, flashing lights, pyrotechnics, or any of that crap,” Luke said.
“We play acoustical instruments,” Mark said, “and while we expect to need amplification in a bigger space, we’re not gonna be blastin’ our sound to kingdom come. It’s the music that’s important, and it doesn’t mean anything, if the audience can’t hear the lyrics.”
“Bart handles all our sound and lightin’,” Matt added. “He always has and always will.”
“I see.” Mel took a deep breath and sipped at the cup of tea that had magically appeared at her hand. “I’m not certain Kitty will go for that, but I will certainly do everything I can to make it happen.”
“There’s no choice, Mel,” Matt said. “You saw what can happen when there’s a big ruckus. You start shootin’ fireworks, flashin’ lights and smoke, all that crap, and we not only won’t be able to sing worth a damn, we may not even be able to keep from Shiftin’.”
“Oh.” Mel looked at each of them in turn, felt a jolt as she looked into those deep golden eyes, and realized they were not being difficult. While she had no intention of telling Kitty Konstantine of all people about their natures as Shifters, she knew she had to make her boss believe their way was the best way, the only way.
I can’t believe I have to even consider all this, she thought. Twenty-four hours ago, I’m not sure I even really believed Shifters exited.
Then she turned and looked into Matt’s golden eyes and remembered the way he had Shifted for her last night and took a deep breath.
“Well, then, that’s the way it will be.”
“Don’t worry about Uncle Bart not bein’ up to it,” John said. “He’s had real trainin’ in lights and sound.”
“Went to Las Vegas for it,” Luke added.
“He’s licensed in Tennessee, too,” Matt said, “so you don’t have to worry that some venue won’t let him handle their equipment.”
“That’s a relief,” Mel said, taking a bit of bacon and pausing to savor the smoky taste of it. Due to her very limited budget, she rarely splurged on things like bacon, and for some reason, it tasted particularly good today.
“Do you think this Kitty woman will go for it?” Bart asked.
Mel thought for a moment. “Do you guys have a CD?”
“Sure,” Matt said. “We got some out in the van.”
“In that case, we just need to be certain we get Kitty to listen to it, before she kicks us all out of her office.”
“It seems to me you’re riskin’ a powerful lot on what you heard the boys do the other night,” Bart said.
Mel took a deep breath. “Perhaps. But if we can’t sell Kitty on their talent, then I’m out of a job, anyway.”
“Would she really fire you?” John asked.
Mel nodded and glanced at the clock. “I haven’t checked in with the office in almost twelve hours, and I’m already three hours late for work this morning, so yes, she’ll fire me—unless I can sell her on what you can do. A new hit is the only thing that’s going to distract her.”
She sipped her tea and refused to meet any of their eyes. Of course, she might just fire me, anyway, she thought, but she wasn’t going to tell the Saints that.
Bart reached out to lay his big hand on hers and give it a gentle squeeze. When she looked up to meet his golden eyes, he smiled.
“I guess keepin’ your job’s just gonna have to be one of the stipulations I mentioned before,” he said, as though reading her thoughts.
Mel raised her eyebrows in surprise and quickly scanned all their faces.
“Do you really mean that?”
“Sure I do,” Bart said. “If you’re not our contact at the Konstantine Talent Agency, then we’ll sign with somebody else.”
“Or not at all,” Matt added. “We’re not lookin’ to get rich. We’re just tryin’ to earn some money to send back home.”
“Don’t need ‘rich’,” Luke added. “Not when we got family.”
Mel smiled. “I’m beginning to really like all of you, Mr. Saint.”
Luke grinned. “That’s good, on account of we’re gettin’ to like you real well, too, Miss Darlin’.”
Mel laughed with them and began to gather up the empty dishes.
“Let the boys take care of that,” Bart said. “You and Matt and me, we need to sit down and plan some strategy.”
“All right.”
* * *
They settled in the living room while the three younger Saints cleaned up breakfast. Twenty minutes later, Bart nodded in satisfaction.
“Let’s do it.”
Matt reached out to touch her cheek, and when she looked his way, he smiled.
“You might want to get changed and do somethin’ about that shiner before we leave.”
Mel closed her eyes and suppressed a moan.
“There is no way Kitty isn’t going to notice it.”
“You must have one of those ‘power’ suits,” Bart said. “Dressin’ sharp is the first step to distractin’ anybody.”
“I guess. I don’t suppose all of you could…”
Bart grinned. “Don’t worry. We can clean up when we want to.”
Mel returned his grin and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as she stood and headed for her bedroom, relieved that for the most part, only a headache lingered. She stared at the contents of her closet for a full five minutes before she nodded firmly and reached for her favorite suit. Kitty always insisted her “minions” wear skirts and heels, but with Bart Saint to back her up, Mel decided it was time to make her own mark on the Agency.
She took a quick, very hot shower, dried, then spread an aloe-based lotion all over her body and face. She might not smell like a sexy beauty queen, but her bruises and scrapes certainly felt better for the treatment. Studying herself closely in the mirror, she realized that the bruise on her cheek had not invaded her eye socket, so there was no black eye to cover up. She wasn’t certain if she was relieved or sorry, but decided it was probably a good thing. Standing there in her panties and bra, she did all she could to mask her bruised cheek and get her hair into some semblance of sophistication. Finally satisfied she had done all she could, she reached for her suit.
The charcoal gray pinstripe was just the thing to add classiness and height to her otherwise average build. The suit had slacks rather than a skirt, but the addition of a scarlet silk blouse and black, high-heeled pumps took her from “this is business” to “I have a secret.” She debated letting what she had of cleavage show then decided the bruise on her neck and sternum would ruin the effect, so she buttoned it up to the high collar and added a shimmery, dangling broach that had belonged to her grandmother. For once, her hair was cooperating, and the tone of her blouse gave those wavy locks a deep auburn hue that took her from simple red head to stunning.
One last look in her full-length mirror, and Mel decided she would do—if only she didn’t lose her nerve. The bruise on her cheek wasn’t completely hidden, but she hoped Kitty would be so shocked by the outfit that her boss wouldn’t notice the heavy makeup that didn’t quite conceal it.
“Okay, champ,” she said, squaring her shoulders and taking a fortifying breath. “As Bart said, let’s do it.”
Without another glance at the mirror, Mel picked up her tote and headed for the living room.
The stunned expressions that met her entrance warmed her as nothing else could have done. If she blushed with pleasure, it only added to her appeal. Then she noticed Bart and let out a low whistle herself. His suit was coal black, as was his shirt and tie. Highly buffed dress shoes and sparkling cuff links and tie tack completed his transformation. Mel’s smile spread as she took him in.
“I think Kitty Konstantine will meet her match today,” she said.
“And we’re gonna double-team her,” Bart replied, offering her his arm.
Mel laughed as she took it. “The rest of you look pretty good, too,” she added, looking at each brother in turn. They had changed into clean, pressed jeans, tucked in their plaid flannel shirts and added jackets. They must have brought Matt his suitcase, because he, too, had changed.
“You ready, then?” Matt asked, crossing to her.
“Oh, yeah.”
Matt grinned. “Then let’s go.”
* * *
Because Mel’s apartment was located between downtown Nashville and Opryland, they were able to avoid the worst of the Monday mid-day traffic as they headed out. Since it was after noon when they arrived, parking near the front door of the Konstantine Talent Agency wasn’t a problem, as many of those who worked inside were out to lunch. Kitty would still be in, Mel was certain, as she stepped out of her car and waited for Bart to park their van. Her boss never took lunch meetings on Monday, and usually spent the day going over the reports from her minions on what they had “discovered” over the weekend. Mel signed in with the security guard at the front desk and had no trouble taking her “entourage” into the heart of the Agency. They certainly all looked as though they belonged there.
Mel felt eyes staring at her as she made her way through the lush interior of the Agency’s home office toward Kitty’s inner sanctum. The few who recognized her were shocked by her appearance, she knew. Those who did not recognize her were equally taken with her companions. Mel kept her shoulders back and her head high, knowing full well attitude was everything. Always walk into a place like you own it, Gran used to say, cause if you do, then someday you will.
Mel put a little extra swing into her stride as they passed her coworkers’ offices, just to be on the safe side.
Kitty Konstantine’s office was guarded by one of her “stud muffins,” as Mel thought of them—a series of very good looking, very young men Kitty hired as her secretaries. Kevin was the latest incarnation: tall, blond, and built like a model of men’s underwear, just as Kitty liked them. Mel had the satisfaction of the young man’s double-take when she sauntered up to his desk. His look of unabashed appreciation was replaced instantly by shock as his eyes rose above her shoulders and he recognized her.
“Where have you been?” he asked sharply. “Ms. Konstantine has had us looking all over for you!”
“I’ve been busy,” Mel said, “but I’m here now. I’ve brought some gentlemen to see Ms. Konstantine.”
“No, way, Ms. Darling. You know she doesn’t like to be disturbed on Mondays.”
“Well, Kevin,” Mel said, settling a hip on his desk and leaning close conspiratorially, “she’ll have to make an exception, won’t she? These gentlemen won’t wait.”
She saw Bart look at his watch, his face a mask of impatience. “It’s now or never, Miss Darling.”
Kevin eyed Bart nervously and visibly shrank back when their eyes met. He glanced nervously at the Saint brothers, but they weren’t paying any attention to him.
“You heard the man, Kevin,” she said, straightening. “Do you really want to be responsible for Ms. Konstantine missing this opportunity? Remember what happened the last time Duncan and Associates signed a new artist Ms. Konstantine never had the chance to get her hands on.
“Oh, that’s right. You weren’t here, then. It was your predecessor who let that one get away.”
The implications of her words were clear, and Kevin took a deep breath. “This one’s on your head, Ms. Darling, he said, pushing the intercom switch.
“You bet!” Mel said cheerfully. She might have felt sorry for the guy, if he had spent less time looking at her breasts just now.
“Ms. Darling to see you, Ms. Konstantine,” Kevin announced.
They didn’t hear the boss’ response, but they could see Kevin wore an ear bud when he got up to open the inner office door.
Mel went in first, wondering if this was to be her last encounter with the woman who had been making her life miserable for the past six months.
“You seem to have forgotten, Ms. Darling, that I don’t take meetings on Monday,” she said, her eyes narrowed menacingly.
“Not at all, Ms. Konstantine, but these gentlemen need to see you.”
Ms. Konstantine seemed to notice Bart and the brothers for the first time, but she seemed unimpressed.
“That would be my fault, Ms. Konstantine,” Bart said, stepping forward to hand Ms. Konstantine his card. “I told the boys that this meeting wasn’t really necessary, since we already have an appointment with Timothy Duncan this afternoon, but Ms. Darling was so good about showing us around last evening and providing breakfast for us this morning, they insisted we give her agency a chance, first. If you’d rather we didn’t, then…”
“No, no,” Ms. Konstantine said, finally standing and coming from behind her power desk. “That’s quite all right, Mr…?”
“This is Mr. Bartholomew Saint, Ms. Konstantine,” Mel said. “He represents his nephews, The Four Saints. That’s Matt, Luke, Mark, and John.”
Ms. Konstantine shook hands with Bart and nodded to the others.
“And just what kind of music do you play?” she asked, leaning back on her desk.
“They have a CD, Ms. Konstantine,” Mel said.
“Of course they do,” Ms. Konstantine muttered. She didn’t quite roll her eyes, but she definitely was not happy as she took the offered disk from Bart. She wasn’t foolish, though. If she thought Tim Duncan was interested in this band, she couldn’t not listen to what they had.
“After seeing them perform on Saturday night,” Mel said, accepting the CD from her boss and heading for the sound system built into her wall of shelves, “I am certain you will enjoy it.”
Mel put in the CD and cued up the third cut, which Bart had suggested. In another moment, the brothers’ voices filled the room, and Mel smiled. It was the love song that had so taken her on Saturday night. It was a song about a man’s love of home and hearth, kids and family, but most of all, his love for his wife. She had to blink back tears before turning back to the room, knowing Ms. Konstantine could always hide her own response to music but hoping for some hint of approval.
Ms. Konstantine hadn’t moved from where she leaned on her desk, but her expression showed far more than polite interest. Mel smiled to herself. Even Ms. Machiavelli can’t stand up to it, she thought. Mel had wondered if their songs would lose their punch when heard in a recording rather than live, but she needn’t have worried.
Mel glanced toward Matt, and their eyes locked. The deep golden light of his made her insides tremble, and though it was only a recording, she knew he meant to sing this song for her.
When the song ended, Ms. Konstantine took a deep breath.
“All right, Mr. Saint. Let’s talk.
“That will be all, Ms. Darling,” she added to Mel, as she tried to herd the men to a seating area across from her desk.
“I don’t think so,” Bart said.
“What?”
“I understand this is your agency, Ms. Konstantine, but Miss Darling here did all the heavy lifting to get us here, and we’ll only do business with her. We’ve gotten to know her over the past couple of days, and we trust what we know. So if we consider your representation, it will only be with Miss Darling in the mix.”
Ms. Konstantine looked about to argue, but the CD had moved onto the next song, and Mel suddenly knew her boss wouldn’t give them up.
“All right. We’ll do this your way.”
Bart’s smile was predatory, but he sent a wink toward Mel. Mel had to suppress a giggle as she reached for her notebook. This was going to take awhile, but she didn’t doubt that Bart would have every one of his conditions met in the end.
* * *
Mel stepped into her apartment and slipped off her shoes. She had been in them for far too long today, but it had been worth every excruciating minute. Bart Saint had handled Kitty Konstantine like a magician handled a rabbit. Kitty hadn’t known what had hit her, only that she had to have The Four Saints in her stable of artists. She’d even unbent toward Mel at one point, promising that she would see a bonus in her next paycheck. Mel wasn’t going to spend the money until it actually appeared in her account, but she had confidence that Bart, whose control of Kitty throughout the meeting would have been unimaginable to Mel only last week, would see that she got her bonus.
“What’re you thinkin’, darlin’?” Matt asked, coming up behind her as she stared out the front window.
Mel smiled. “I still can’t believe how well Bart handled Ms. Machiavelli.”
Matt chuckled. “Uncle Bart can handle just about anyone ’cept his mama. Great Aunt Cecilia’s the only one who handles him.”
Mel laughed. “I’d like to meet her.”
“You will.”
She turned and stared at him, for his voice had turned serious.
“Will I?”
Matt nodded slowly as he crossed to her. Mel felt something move inside as his golden eyes locked onto her blue ones.
“You know I want you, don’t you?” he asked, reaching out to brush back a stray tendril of hair.
She swallowed hard. “I’d hoped you did,” she confessed, though she was suddenly very nervous. His golden eyes reminded her of the huge bear that had been in her bedroom just last night.
“You’re not afraid of me are you, darlin’?” he asked.
“Not exactly.”
“But?”
Mel reached out to lay both hands on his broad chest. She felt his heart beat through his flannel shirt.
“I guess I’m more afraid of me, of what I’m feeling,” she whispered. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and I didn’t expect I ever could feel this much for someone who…”
“Is a Shifter?” he asked, and she felt him withdraw.
“No,” she said, letting go of a huff of breath and stepping into him. “I never imagined feeling this way about a man who is so much larger than life in every way.”
She looked up and smiled. “I never imagined a man like you would look at me the way you do. Would want me the way you do.”
She turned away from him in an attempt to gather her thoughts. “I can’t say it doesn’t matter—that you’re a Shifter, I mean. It’s incredible. You’re incredible.”
She glanced back at him and shook her head in amazement. “I just can’t believe someone like you wants someone like me.”
“Believe it,” he said, stepping to her and taking her shoulders in his big hands.
“But why?”
He shook his head. “Maybe it’s only because you’re not afraid of me. You’re not put off by what I am, but you’re also not drawn to me, just because of what I am.”
“You mean, like a groupie? I’ve seen the kind that hangs around stage doors, but are there really Shifter groupies?”
His laughter this time had the low growl of the bear he could become. “Not exactly, but you know how some women seem to be drawn to scary men, just for the thrill of it?”
She considered. “I guess so. I’ve always thought women like that were a little bit nuts, though.”
“No question about it.”
She stiffened and glanced up quickly. “You don’t Shift while you…I mean, when you’re …” Thoroughly embarrassed now, she couldn’t quite say it, and she would have pulled away again, but he chuckled again and held her tight.
“That’s a different kind of heat, darlin’,” he told her, pulling her into his arms. “Don’t worry. When I’m with a woman, I stay a man, ’cause all that heat isn’t about self preservation.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Okay?”
She looked up again and a smile tugged at her lips. “I did wonder.”
“Why don’t I help you gather some empirical evidence to prove it?” he suggested, wrapping his arms around her. “That way you can be sure the next time.”
Her smile blossomed. “Why don’t you?”
But when he leaned down to kiss her, she suddenly laid her hand on his chest once more and leaned back in his arms so she could see his face clearly.
“Will there be a ‘next time’?” she asked, for the first time uncertain of where this was leading.
He seemed to understand her question.
“I know it seems kind of quick,” he said.
“Only two days,” she reminded him.
“The thing is, we Saint men tend to fall fast and hard, if you know what I mean.”
“I think so.”
He smiled. “We also tend to know, right from the get-go, who we want to spend the rest of our lives with.”
“Do you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Oh. Well. In that case…”
She reached up to take his face in her hands and stood on her toes so she could reach him. When their lips met she felt the proverbial fireworks going off inside her, and as their kiss deepened, she knew that she would soon be able to fly.
An angry car horn from the street below, brought her up short, and she pulled back just far enough to look around. They were standing right in the middle her living room windows.
“Uh, maybe we should move this to the back,” she said, her breathless voice sounding strange to her own ears.
Matt’s deep, rumbling chuckle was followed by a not-too-gentle nip on her jaw.
“Good idea.”
Mel laughed and pulled away, though she kept his hand clasped tightly in hers as she led him back to her bedroom, turning out the lights along the way.
* * *
Once they were safely inside her bedroom, with only the streetlight outside her window for illumination, she raised her lips to his once more, and their hands began to roam. Matt slipped her jacket off and tossed it toward a chair while she pulled the tail of his shirt free, unbuttoned it then sent both shirt and jacket to the floor. He reached for the zipper on her slacks while she reached for his belt, thrilled by what she could see in the front of his jeans. In moments they were both naked and rolling across her double bed, which was dwarfed by his size.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured between kisses as he explored every inch of her body with his callused fingers, which sent tingles coursing through her.
“I’m not really, you know,” she whispered, fighting to give as good as she was getting.
“I guess I’m just gonna have to convince you, somehow,” he growled low in his throat, as his lips traced her face and moved on to her neck and shoulders.
“I’m not very good at this, either,” she said, hating to admit it to him but somehow needing him to know.
“Who says?” he murmured, as he shifted to let one callused hand cup one breast.
She felt her world shift.
“Well, I’ve only done this once before,” she said, hating to have to break that news to him at this point. “I was a sophomore in college. He was a grad student, with all sorts of experience, I pretty sure, and he said I wasn’t any good. I guess he was right, because I never did…well, I never...I mean, of course I’ve heard about orgasms, but I’ve never had one.”
She felt herself blushing furiously, and when Matt stopped what he was doing to her, to take her face in both of his big hands, Mel had to force herself to open her eyes and face the music.
“Darlin’,” he said, his smile surprising the heck out of her, “if you never had an orgasm, then it was the man who was doin’ it wrong.”
“Really?” she asked, surprise overtaking her embarrassment.
He grinned. “Oh, yeah.”
He shifted once more, and the next thing she knew, those amazing lips were making a wet trail down to her breast, where he suddenly stopped and suckled.
Mel thought she heard a scream as she all but lifted them both off the bed.
She felt Matt’s laughter, as he wrapped his hands around her torso under her arms and lifted her up to feast on her breasts, first one then the other, until suddenly everything in her tightened and she felt wetness between her thighs as she was swamped with pleasure beyond her imagination.
Matt lowered her gently to the bed when she finally went limp, still not quite certain of what had happened.
“See what I mean?” he said, as he nuzzled her neck and ear.
“Oh, yeah,” she gasped.
Matt laughed and started to work on her again, but when she pushed at his shoulders, he rolled onto his back, allowing her to climb on top and straddle his thighs, so she could run her fingers through the thick curly hair on his chest.
“My turn, big guy,” she said, surprising herself with the sultry tone of her voice.
“Be my guest,” he said, reaching up to take both her breasts in his big hands.
Mel found herself moving rhythmically against him, as she ran her hands over his chest and down lower, igniting sparks in both of them.
“Careful, darlin’,” Matt said, when her hands found that part of him she had never seen before.
She wished the streetlight showed her more, because he felt huge in her hand, and she had a sudden premonition that things were not going to work quite as easily as she had experience her one previous time.
Matt didn’t give her a chance to change her mind but instead pulled her to him, flipped their positions once more, and went back to kissing her. This time, her legs fell open, allowing him to settle between them, and as he moved against her, she felt her own wetness lubricating him. Before she could decide how best to ask the question, she felt his fingers on her there, opening her to him, and in another moment, that part of him was slowing moving inside of her. She inhaled sharply, as she experienced his size in another way, but he was gentle and patient, pushing first in then pulling out, until her muscles relaxed enough to take all of him, and he was seated to the hilt.
In another moment, they were moving together, and Mel felt the pressure build once more.
“Matt!”
“Just let go again, darlin’,” he admonished her, and she heard the strain in his voice. “I’ve got you.”
“I can’t. Not again!”
But she was wrong, of course. Matt reached down to touch her where they were joined, and she shattered once more. His roar joined her scream in perfect harmony as together they both found their release.
Sometime later, Mel became aware of the world once more. Matt’s heavy weight pinned her to the mattress, but she never wanted to move again. She took as deep a breath as she could, and he shifted away.
“No!” she cried plaintively.
But he only rolled onto his back, carrying her with him, so that they remained joined. She felt him inside, not as big has he had been before, but still there, still a part of her. She wrapped her arms around him as best she could and hugged his thighs with her legs. She felt more alive than she ever had before and never wanted it to end.
“I didn’t use anythin’ to protect you,” he said after a long moment, as his fingers played softly with her hair. “Is there any chance we could’ve made a baby tonight?”
She felt the stickiness of his seed, and smiled.
“If we did, I won’t mind,” she said.
She felt him sigh, but she felt more than relief in it.
“Then I’m gonna hope we did, darlin’,” he said, confirming her guess as he nuzzled her ear, “’cause there is one thing I forgot to mention.”
“What’s that?” she asked, though she didn’t really care at this point.
“I love you.”
Mel went still, and when she pushed herself up far enough to look down at him, she knew those golden eyes could see her tears even in the darkness.
“What’s this?” he asked, gently brushing the dampness away with a tender caress of his thumb.
“No one’s ever said that to me before,” she whispered, afraid to break the spell.
“You’re just gonna have to get used to it, darlin’,” he said, suddenly serious.
“Okay.”
“Only okay?” he asked, frowning.
“I can get used to it, because I love you, too.”
He took a deep breath then his smile grew and spread until it lit his eyes.
“Okay, then.”
She giggled, but then he pulled her head down and went back to the serious business of kissing her. She contracted her muscles around him, felt him begin to grow hard within her again, and the world went away once more.