Aussie Rules

Chapter 15

With difficulty, Bo tore his gaze off Mel’s extremely hot, extremely wet body and closed his mouth so he didn’t start noticeably drooling. He stepped over the threshold of her cottage and looked around to distract himself.

Her place was tiny, but well cared for. An overstuffed loveseat faced the small woodstove with a potted fern on either side. There were pictures on the walls, Al’s no doubt; some prints, some actual photographs, all of airplanes except the personal photos, though there were few of those. She had one of herself and Dimi mugging for the camera inside a biplane. Another of Charlene and Al painting Sunshine Café, both covered in yellow paint. And yet another of the woman who’d changed Bo’s life forever.

Sally. Dark-haired, blue-eyed, smiling, gorgeous, vivacious, suck-’em-in-and-kill-’em Sally. With a tic in his jaw, he turned away. If he was being fair, he could understand that Mel didn’t know the real Sally. And in that same fairness, he also understood that once he gave her the proof of the real Sally, she wasn’t going to be happy with him for showing her that the only woman who’d ever been there for her, the only positive adult influence she’d had as a child, was a criminal.

Throw rugs dotted the scarred wood floor. There was lace at the windows, which surprised him. She’d made herself a home here away from the airport, probably her first. “Look at that,” he murmured. “You have a secret Martha Stewart thing going on.”

She rolled her eyes, but it didn’t hide her blush.

God, she was sweet. In a sort of porcupine way. And she was also so damned sexy scowling at him, he could hardly stand it.

“Any idiot can go to Target or Wal-Mart,” she muttered.

“Don’t ruin it for me.” He smiled, which was almost unbelievable considering why he’d come. “I like picturing you as a homebody. You pining away for a hubby and kids, Warrior Mel?”

“Shut up.” She tightened her towel and stalked toward the bathroom, from which wafted steam and the scent of bubble bath. “I’ll be right-Hey!” she squeaked as he snagged her by the back of her towel and slowly but inexorably pulled her back against him.

“Hey yourself,” he said softly, enjoying very much the feel of her backside as she wriggled, which had the predictable effect, and when she felt it, she went still as stone.

Oh, yeah, darlin’, he thought. That’s exactly what you think it is. He tossed the file down to the couch to wrap both arms around her, holding her stiff spine to his chest as he put his mouth to the sweet spot on the back of her neck and nuzzled. “You smell good.”

“I-” This broke off with a low, sexy moan that escaped her lips when he gently sank his teeth into the side of her throat. “Stop that.”

“Okay, I’ll stop that.” He turned her around and tugged off the ridiculous shower cap, ignoring the shaving gel soaking into the legs of his pants as he ran a finger down between her breasts to loosen her towel.

She slapped at his hand, but weakly, he noted. “Don’t look at me. I have conditioner in my hair and I need to shave.”

“Call the fashion police,” he said. “What’s the punishment, do you think? The rest of the night in bed without dinner?” Christ, what was he doing? He’d come for something else entirely but now this was all he wanted. She was all he wanted.

“Bo, stop. I mean, look at me, I’m a mess-”

“I’m looking. I don’t see a mess.” She was gorgeous. He captured her fingers in his and brought them up to his mouth.

“This is ridiculous,” she whispered, then staring at his mouth as he sucked on one of her fingers.

“You didn’t think it was stupid the other night.”

“It’s just some sort of physical thing.”

“No kidding, it’s physical.” He was currently hard enough to pound nails, and she hadn’t even touched him. And she smelled like heaven. To get more of it, he bent his head and sniffed at her like a puppy. He dragged his mouth over her bare shoulder, touching her skin with his tongue.

Her fingers dug into his arms as a low but undeniable moan escaped her. Thrilling to the sound, he sank his teeth into her.

“Bo,” she hissed.

“Right here.”

She lifted her head and for one beat they stared at each other. “Bo,” she said again, and moved toward him at the same time that he caught her up, their mouths connecting as if they could inhale each other. Bo certainly meant to inhale her. He freed her towel, leaving her just as he wanted her-nude. Yanking her up and against him, he had one hand in the center of her back, one palming her extremely palmable ass, spreading his fingers to touch as much of her as he could. “Christ. Christ, you’re so hot. Why am I still dressed?”

“I don’t know.” She had both hands fisted in his hair now, once again doing her damnedest to make him bald, but it only turned him on all the more because she was already out of control, panting, writhing against him as if he was the best thing since sliced bread.

And in that moment, here with her, he felt like it. She transcended him, made him feel like Superman, and goddamn if that wasn’t the most arousing thing ever.

“Bo.” She fastened her mouth on his throat, not exactly gentle, and in return he tugged on her dripping hair until her head fell back enough that he could kiss her again; hard, wet, deep, while his fingers slid between her legs and dipped into her creamy heat, making him stagger, groan, then stagger again, until he fell back with her onto the couch.

Thank God for Target, he thought dimly, sinking into the soft, giving cushions with this unbelievably hot, wet, naked gorgeous woman straddling him.

She was trying to strip him, making little frustrated sounds as she tore at his clothes. Lending his own hands to the cause, together they pulled his shirt over his head. She let out a little hum of pleasure at the sight of his bared torso, then leaned forward and kissed a pec. “I can’t even remember why you’re here,” she whispered, and for a moment, the words brought him out.

Because despite being more turned on than he’d been in a good long time, he remembered why he was here. When he told her, when he showed her what he’d brought, she was going to get that cold, distant look in her eyes and not want to see him. Not want to talk to him.

And certainly not want to-oh, God-lick him. He opened his mouth, honesty warring with lust, but then she tugged open his jeans and slipped her hands inside.

And just like that, lust won. He’d been touched plenty but for some reason, her hands felt different, her kisses felt different. Gliding his hands up the backs of her thighs, he urged her closer over him as he kissed her again, and again. His fingers still playing in their wet heaven, he dragged his mouth from hers, making his way down to a full curve of a breast. Her nipple was pebbled up tight, going even tighter when he sucked her against his tongue. Pulling back, he blew out a soft breath on the tip as he sank a finger deep inside her.

She cried out, the sound drenched in pleasure. Her head fell back, her hair falling over her shoulders and breasts, which were still wet from his mouth. She looked gorgeous, like a goddamned goddess, and he could only stare up at her, awed, as he added another finger, slowly grazing his thumb over her clit.

Another gasp, the sexiest sound he’d ever heard. “Bo.”

Had he ever heard his name uttered like that? Like in that moment he was her air, her sustenance, her very life?

He wanted to hear it some more. Lots more. Leaning forward, he put his mouth back on her breast, not losing the rhythm of his thumb on her center, urged on by her rocking hips and soft cries.

“Bo-”

“Come,” he said against her nipple. “I want you to.”

“I can’t-”

“Can.” He watched her intently, taking the cues from her pumping hips to see how hard to press, how fast to take her. With another surprised cry, her head fell back again, her throat a lovely arch, her eyes tightly closed.

Beautiful. She was so goddamned beautiful he could hardly stand it. Her hands came down to hold his in the right spot, as if desperate to make sure he finished her off now that she was so close, as if she was afraid he’d disappoint her. But he had no intention of disappointing her, and he carefully tended to her body, groaning at the sight of her straining against him.

And then, with a darkly erotic sound, she burst. She was still shuddering in pleasure, his fingers still deep inside her, when the doorknob on the front door wriggled.

They both froze.

Still breathing hard, dewy from her orgasm, Mel gripped Bo’s arms and yanked, and they both fell off the couch to the floor.

“What the hell-”

Before he could finish that thought, Mel slapped a hand over his mouth, holding him down with shocking strength for a completely naked woman who’d just exploded all over him.

“Shh,” she hissed, and pushed his head farther down and out of sight.

Which is how he found his mouth an inch from a still-erect nipple. He stared at the beautiful sight as the front door opened all the way.

“Mel?” called a female voice, a Southern female voice.

Char.

She was probably bringing dinner, because Char had more mothering genes in her little pinky than Bo had good sense.

“Honey,” she called out. “I brought a plate of chicken enchiladas. Al loved them, so I thought…Mel?”

Out of sight, on the floor in front of the couch, Bo turned his head and met Mel’s light brown eyes. In them was a promised retribution if he so much as breathed.

Nope, not going to breathe. Instead he opened his mouth and licked her nipple like she was his favorite flavor of lollipop.

She jerked.

The nipple hardened all the more.

And Bo smiled.

“Mel?” Char called. “Damn it, did you go for your run already?”

Mel shot Bo more daggers. Poisoned daggers, by the looks of them. They still lay tangled on the floor, Mel completely naked, him not so much. Given the heat blazing from the woman’s gaze, she’d figured out exactly how vulnerable her situation was. To make sure of it, he slid a finger back inside her.

A strangled sound escaped her. In fact, Bo could have sworn her eyes crossed with lust.

Above and behind them, Char let out a long-suffering sigh, set something down on the kitchen table, and exited.

The moment the front door shut, Mel catapulted into action, shoving Bo away, leaping up to her feet. Grabbing her robe, she shoved her arms into it. When she realized the robe was on inside out, she growled.

Bo laughed, and she rounded on him, pointing to the door. “Get out.”

“Oh, is the fun over?”

“Yes!”

He pointed to the big, fat file he’d brought, the elephant in the room. The thing was still perched on the edge of the couch, the sexual storm somehow having left it utterly untouched.

Mel stared at him, her hair beginning to dry in long, fiery waves around her face. He could tell by her expression she’d completely forgotten, and that she couldn’t quite believe it. “Just tell me.”

“I found old accounting records, and-”

“Found?”

“Okay, let’s say liberated.”

Her mouth went grim but she said nothing.

“I still haven’t located records of the Beechcraft, but this set of books was very interesting.”

“How so?”

“It’s clearly a second set of books for North Beach, and I’m betting it doesn’t match the first. Want to take that bet?”

Mel hugged her robe tighter to herself, as if she hadn’t just been butt-ass naked in his lap, panting his name as she came. “Lots of people keep two sets of books.”

“With huge deposits unaccredited to any source? Deposits that were probably never actually entered into the official set of North Beach’s books, or at least into the set the IRS saw? Deposits that add up to a staggering million dollars?”

“What?”

“All dated just before and during the years that my dad was involved with Sally. Which begs the question: if Sally is the one who got ripped off in all this, why did all of my father’s money vanish, and Sally’s bank account swell?”

She frowned, then turned her back to him.

“Oh, no you don’t.” He pulled her back around. “We’re talking about this.”

Her jaw hardened and so did her eyes. Beneath that robe she might be naked and still quivering, but on the outside she was the strong-headed, strong-willed woman she’d been from too young an age. “I’d like you to leave now.”

“You can’t ignore this, it’s not going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere-”

“Yet.”

“What does that mean?”

She licked her lips. “You’re not going anywhere yet. But you are eventually. You’re going back to your life. While mine, and everyone else’s here, will never be the same again.”

Her quiet devastation staggered him. Before he could formulate a response, she dropped her forehead to his shoulder, and surprised, he pulled her in, hugging her close for one minute before she gathered herself and stepped away. “I’d like to go through the paperwork.”

“Of course.”

“By myself,” she said.

“Mel-”

“Please.”

God, the look in her eyes slayed him.

“Myself,” she repeated.

He pulled on his shirt, then moved close, running a finger over the dark smudges beneath her eyes. She seemed exhausted, and all he wanted to do was tuck her against him and take her to bed. But she’d never allow that now and he knew it. “We need to talk about this. Soon.”

She glanced over his shoulder, back toward the couch, where the file sat. Whatever she was feeling, she kept it to herself. “Good-bye, Bo.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good-bye,” she said again, and practically shut the door on him as she pushed him out into the night.

The next morning, Bo showed up early at the airport in hopes of catching Mel alone, but she appeared to be a no-show.

In fact, for the first time in the week since he’d been there, the coffee-donut gossip ritual at the café began without her.

Ritchie and Kellan couldn’t wait to tell everyone about their double date with twins. “They’re athletes,” Ritchie reported in awe. “Gymnasts.”

Al whistled. “Bet they’re flexible.”

“Oh yeah, we got wild, dude-” Kellan broke off at Char’s glare. His wicked smile faded. “I mean, it was tender and respectful. Very tender and respectful.”

“Enough.” Ernest gestured with his donut toward Danny. “I got a complaint. You need to stop using aerosol anything in maintenance. I found a dead araneae in there.”

“A what?” Danny asked.

“A spider! You’re killing them.”

Char sighed. “Okay, let’s talk about me. I’m cranking down the AC from 78 to 68 degrees, and I don’t care how much it costs, I’m too damn hot all the time!”

Al wisely refrained from saying a word, but he looked like he was thinking at least a few.

No one spoke of Mel’s absence.

Finally Bo had to ask. “Where’s your fearless leader?”

Char looked at Al.

Al looked at Ritchie and Kellan.

Both of whom looked at Danny.

Danny looked at Dimi.

Dimi quietly sipped her herbal tea. “Hmmm? Oh, Mel. She’s running a bit late this morning, that’s all.”

Bo would be willing to bet that Mel had never been late to anything in her entire life. Just as he’d be willing to bet she’d stayed up late going through that file he’d brought her, and was now either still formulating her response to what she’d found, or plotting his murder.

The airport began hopping with its usual morning business. Bo himself had an appointment to look at a Douglas A-24 in Los Angeles, which he reluctantly left for, but not before pulling Dimi aside. “I want to see Mel later,” he said. “Tell her I’ll only be a few hours.”

Dimi smiled at him noncommittally. Bo grated his teeth and piloted his flight to LA and back.

When he returned, Mel had come in, but was now on her own charter flight to San Francisco, forcing him to cool his heels for the rest of the day, which he spent tracking down a Piper for a customer.

Dimi kept interrupting him with phone calls-creditors, salespeople, even one person asking if they sold model airplanes.

Finally he called Dimi’s desk. “What are you doing?”

“My job,” she replied sweetly.

“Do you forward all these kinds of calls to Mel?”

“Not anymore. You’re in charge now.”

He drew a deep breath, but patience didn’t come. “I hope you’re finding it therapeutic to take your anger out on me.”

“Actually, not as much as I’d hoped.”

He sighed. “Do you really give Mel this many phone calls a day?”

“Oh, no. For her, I screen them.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you think you could screen them for me?”

“Nope,” she said with that same cheer.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t like you.”

At closing time, when Mel still hadn’t come in, Bo went to Dimi yet again.

“Oh, dear,” she said with a little smile, bracelets jangling, as she set aside a book-a book? “Didn’t I tell you? She’s going straight from San Francisco to Seattle.”

“No,” he said through his teeth. “You didn’t mention that.”

“Sorry.” But she didn’t look it. “You did ask me to screen your calls, remember?”

Bo slapped his clipboard against his leg while he considered strangling her. But though Dimi had been obnoxious today, she didn’t look smug so much as…worried. Hell. Had Mel fallen apart at that file he’d left her? “Look, did she say anything about-”

Dimi shook her head. “Not a word about anything.”

He was not going to gain an inch here, but that didn’t prevent him from trying. “Sally hasn’t called yet, has she?”

“Nope.”

Really, he might as well just bang his head against the wall. “Thanks. You’ve been a big help.”

Now her smug smile made a flashing appearance. “I try.”

The next morning when Mel woke up she did just what she had done the one before: stared at the file Bo had brought. At the thought of what was in it, she groaned and rolled to her back, and had a new thought.

Two days ago, she’d let Bo get her naked, finger her to an orgasm, and he hadn’t so much as lost his pants. As it had ever since, the memory made her by turns hot and achy, and hot and humiliated.

She had to get a grip.

Maybe the trick was simply not to look directly at him. Yeah, she’d try that. It shouldn’t be so hard now that she had something new to obsess about.

She stared at the fat file again. God, Sally, what did you do?

With a sigh, she got out of bed, showered, dressed, and drove to the airport and, as was the norm-except for yesterday, when she’d needed to be alone-she was the first to arrive. Unlocking the front door, she flipped on the lobby lights. As they flickered to life, she noticed the jar on the front desk. Curious, she moved close, then stopped short.

In it sat a big, fat, hairy, spindly spider. Skin crawling, she grabbed the note next to the jar and took a big step back, reading while the spider stared at her.

Mel,

Here is proof why I can’t clean out the maintenance closet. This spider is a brown recluse, and they do have a bad rep, but they’re endangered. We need to preserve their environment for all of mankind.

– Ernest

P.S. Any more wonky e-mails you want to tell me about?

Mel gritted her teeth. No more “wonky” e-mails but the spider was seriously wigging her out. She picked up a pen and gingerly used it to push the jar away so she could check the flight schedule beneath. When she’d looked yesterday morning, there’d been only two flights there, now four were listed as incoming, and it looked like Bo had scheduled two of those himself.

For North Beach, that was booming business.

“It might take awhile to make this place worth what I actually lost,” said a male voice. “But apparently I have little choice.”

Mel whipped around to face Bo, who’d come in so quietly she hadn’t heard him. “What if you don’t ever make back what you lost?”

“I can always sell.”

The words stopped her heart. “I thought you didn’t have plans to do that.”

“I don’t. Yet.” He wore a pair of black Levi’s today and a white button-down shirt, with Black Aviation’s logo on the pocket, once again half-tucked in, half not, sleeves shoved to his elbows. His hair had been finger-combed at most, falling in untamed waves. His mouth, the one that had kissed her the day before yesterday until she hadn’t known her own name, was unsmiling. He watched her with those inscrutable eyes, the ones that gave nothing away, nothing at all.

“Is selling really a possibility?” she asked.

He just looked at her.

Yeah. It was. He could recoop at least a part of his losses and get revenge on Sally in one fell swoop, and they both knew it. Too bad the revenge would be on her, not Sally at all.

“Are we going to talk about it?” he asked. “About what you thought about the records I brought you?”

She thought her heart was breaking, how was that?

“Or maybe we should talk about those-what did Ernest call them?-wonky e-mails.”

Oh, God.

“What did he mean, Mel? Because it sounds like maybe you’ve been keeping more secrets, in which case, I’m just shocked.”

In the charged silence came the drone of an incoming engine.

Their gazes locked.

“Saved by the plane?” he murmured.

She ran to the door leading to the tarmac.

“You can run,” he called out after her. “But you can’t hide.”