Miss Goody Two-Shoes: Contemporary Romance Page 5

  Kane traced her mouth with his thumb, following the bow-shaped upper lip and testing the full bottom one. They were the color of ripened peaches. Finally, because he couldn’t resist tasting them, he ducked his head and pressed his own lips to them.

  The kiss started out innocently enough, but shattered his calm the second their mouths touched. He’d forgotten how good a woman could taste, how sweet. He moved his mouth over hers, at first caressing, then devouring its softness and sinking his tongue inside. The sensation was like sucking on hard candy all day and finally reaching the juicy center. He could lose himself in the taste and texture of those lips.

  The kiss deepened, becoming hot and urgent.

  At first Mel was too surprised to do more than let him kiss her. Curiosity, and that ever-present feeling of restlessness, had induced her to part her lips when his tongue pressed against the seam of her mouth. She wasn’t sure when the kiss got out of hand, but it did, and before she knew it, he was grinding his lower body against hers. She tried to push him away. It was like trying to move a concrete wall. Fear touched her heart.

  Kane snapped his head up when he felt her resist. He took a step back and raked his hands through his hair. He was afraid, not of being slapped or reprimanded, but of losing control.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, noting how hard and eager his body was. He yearned for the parts of her that he had not yet explored. He wanted to kiss her until she forgot about her prim upbringing and returned his affections. But he wouldn’t. He could no more force himself on a woman than he could speak Chinese. “You’d better go,” he said at last.

  Mel didn’t miss the warning in his words. Without hesitating, she slipped out the door and stumbled down the stairs on trembling legs. She didn’t stop until she’d reached the safety of her own room.

  Chapter Five

  Kane sat on the edge of his bed in his underwear and tried to convince himself there was enough air in the attic. Prison had made him claustrophobic, and he hated it because he considered it a weakness. It was bad enough he had this problem dealing with anger. Why did he have to be afraid of tight spaces as well?

  He tried to think of something else. He wondered where Mel’s room was, wondered if she was asleep or if she was having trouble drifting off, too. He hadn’t stopped thinking about that kiss. As innocent as it had started out, he knew he would have preferred to keep on kissing her. And that kind of thinking was dangerous. Not only because he wasn’t ready to deal with a woman at the moment, but because that woman was already spoken for. He didn’t need the complications. What he did need was to get his own life together before he involved anyone else.

  Those weren’t the only reasons he was reluctant to start a relationship, he knew. While his body would have eagerly welcomed a soft, sweet-smelling female, he was not prepared for it emotionally.

  Prison had taught him not to feel or care about anything or anybody. If a prisoner was being raped in the basement, it was best just to block it out, rather than to try to do something about it and get a shank in your belly. If the warden demanded a full-scale body search, it was best to pretend it was happening to somebody else. He’d learned long ago, as far back as his dealings with his old man, not to let the next guy know what he was thinking.

  It was important to survival.

  Kane continued to sit on the bed, even as his mind began to play tricks on him. No, the room was not shrinking, and, yes, there was more than enough oxygen. He could leave any time he felt like it. He was not locked in. He stood and walked to the center of the room where the ceiling was highest.

  He took a deep breath.

  He remembered again his last conversation with the warden.

  “A man fitting your description robbed a Memphis convenience store … confessed to a number of crimes, including the one for which you were convicted. His story checked out. He knew things …”

  Kane hadn’t responded right away. He’d merely stroked his beard and fixed the man with a glacial stare. In a world where everything had a price and must be bargained for, his long poker face had served him well and earned him grudging respect from some of the most hardened criminals. “So what are you saying?” he’d asked after a brittle silence.

  “I’m telling you, Mr. Stoddard, that as soon as we process your paperwork, you’re a free man.”

  Kane’s eyes registered disbelief. Freedom, it was the sweetest word he knew, and he had dreamed of this moment for nearly three long years, thirty-nine endless months. It was too good to be true, a damn miracle. But miracles didn’t happen to people like him. Suddenly, his mind raced with strange and disquieting thoughts. Was he being set up? Did somebody want something from him? He didn’t have a clue in hell what it could be. Maybe he was being paranoid, he told himself. If the warden wanted information, he would simply try to strike a deal. But then, the warden knew from experience Kane Stoddard didn’t strike deals or snitch, even when it served his purpose, even when it meant sure punishment not to.

  “Are you sure?” he said at last.

  “I’m sure, Mr. Stoddard. I wouldn’t have called you in here otherwise.”

  Kane’s thoughts were already headed in another direction. The system had made a mistake. “So that’s it?” he asked. “What about the fact that I’ve been screwed out of three years of my life? Am I just supposed to pretend it didn’t happen?”

  The warden tugged at his shirt collar as though he suddenly found it too tight. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and upper lip.

  “It’s up to you if you want to obtain legal counsel, Mr. Stoddard,” he said.

  Kane gave a snort of disgust. “With two hundred and fifty bucks in my pocket?” he asked, knowing that’s all the money they were required to give him when he left. That, and the clothes he’d had on his back.

  The other man took off his glasses and began to clean the lens with a tissue. He held the glasses to the light and inspected them. “I did not prosecute you, Mr. Stoddard, but one only has to look at your record to understand why a jury had no problem finding you guilty. You’ve been in and out of trouble all your life.”

  Kane would have enjoyed shoving those glasses down the man’s throat. “And I paid for every offense,” he said, his chest growing tight with anger. That same anger had been the focus of most of his visits with the prison psychologist. “This time I paid for something I didn’t do.”

  The warden put on his glasses once more. “I’ll admit our legal system isn’t perfect. You’re not the first man to be wrongly accused and convicted of a crime. But I had nothing to do with that. My job was to offer you the best conditions in which to serve your time. Which is exactly what I did, what with the counseling and educational benefits you received.” He paused. “But we can’t change your attitude, Mr. Stoddard, and if you don’t lose that attitude, I’ll give you six months before you’re back.”

  His rage hit with lightning-quick speed. Kane had clenched his fists at his sides, fighting the urge to punch the man square in the jaw. This man, in his polyester gabardine suit, had no idea what it was like to live in that prison. “I’ll see you in hell first,” he’d replied.

  Now, as Kane stood in the tiny attic, the warden’s warning echoed in his head. “I’ll give you six months.”

  The thought of going back to prison turned his blood cold. He would prefer death to that, which was another reason he’d chosen Hardeeville, Mississippi, for his new home, instead of returning to Memphis and his old friends, who would, indeed, probably land him in jail before long.

  No, he would never go back. And one day, hopefully soon, he would be able to rise in the morning without thinking about it, and he would be able to lie down at night without dreaming about it.

  Kane raked his hands through his hair and tried to think of something else. Anything else. He spied the stack of photo albums near the wall and couldn’t resist picking one up. He carried the album to his bed and opened it. The photos were old and faded, some having yellowed with age. Kane recognized no one.
He turned the page. A young woman, no more than a girl actually, stared back at him from a tattered newspaper clipping that announced her engagement to Wilton Abercrombie. Mel’s mother, he thought, studying the picture for some signs of resemblance. He decided she looked more like Blair. At the bottom of the page he found that same young woman standing beside a man he recognized as a younger, thinner version of Wilton. He noticed the age difference immediately. Wilton had taken himself a child bride. The next page showed her being wheeled out of a hospital with a baby in her arms. He grinned at the pictures that followed of Melanie Abercrombie, a plump baby wearing a spit curl in the center of her head. He followed her progress on the next few pages: her first Christmas, her first birthday. There were pictures of Mel in the bathtub, Mel taking her first steps, and Mel using the potty.

  He chuckled at the sight. Melanie Abercrombie would have a fit if she knew he was looking at her baby pictures.

  A newborn Blair appeared about midway through the photo album, and from then on the pictures consisted of two girls and a young mother who looked tired and frazzled much of the time. Kane finished looking through that photo album and went for another. This time the girls had entered elementary school. He followed their progress, then realized when he was almost to the end of the album that he hadn’t seen their mother’s picture for some time. There were pictures of Wilton and various other faces, but the young woman who’d given birth to the little girls was nowhere to be found. Kane closed the album. He didn’t want to have to think about the hurt Mel had suffered over her mother’s abandonment. Not tonight, when there were so many other things he had to worry about, such as finding a job and a place to live. Not when he had so many bad memories of his own.

  Finally, the attic got to be too much for him. Kane knew he had to get the hell out of there or go crazy. He shrugged on his clothes and dug through his duffel bag for his old sneakers. A moment later, he tiptoed down the stairs and slipped out the back door of the house.

  He stood on the back steps, sucking in the night air like one who’d been deprived of oxygen for a long time. The sky was littered with stars. It was exhilarating to know he could step outside any time he wished. Using the light of the full moon, he walked around to the front of the house and started for the road. He was tense all over.

  He began to run. The air was cool, fanning his face. His muscles were stiff. He’d missed his daily run since he’d gotten out. His counselor had taught him several years ago to use his anger and frustration in ways that would help him instead of hurt. As a result, he had taken up jogging and weight lifting. Not only had it relieved tension, he was healthier today because of it.

  There was a big difference between jogging on the prison track and running along the open road with the wind in his face. That made him determined never to return to prison. He would find a job and a place to live, and he’d keep his nose clean because freedom was more important than anything else.

  Kane ran for another fifteen minutes, then turned back for the Abercrombie house. His breathing was measured, his pace steady. A sense of euphoria swept over him, and he felt he could run forever. He didn’t see the hole in the road. All he knew was that when his foot came down, it didn’t make contact with the asphalt. Instead, it landed in a pothole. He tried to break his fall, but he twisted his ankle so badly, it popped.

  The pain was excruciating, and at first he thought he might throw up. He muttered a mouthful of obscenities and wondered how he was going to make it back to the house on one foot.

  # # #

  Mel gazed down at the sleeping man and wondered what had possessed him to leave the attic and sleep outside on her father’s hammock in the backyard, when it was obvious the mosquitoes had had a field day with him. His face bore the evidence of several welts. Looking at that handsome face made her think of the kiss they’d shared, the same kiss that had caused her to lie awake half the night and stare at the dark ceiling. She let her gaze take in the rest of him, the broad shoulders, the strong muscular body, his powerful thighs. She gasped at the sight of his swollen ankle.

  “Kane,” she shook him gently.

  Kane’s eyes flew open, and he bolted upright with a start, looking for all the world as though he were ready for a fight. He winced as pain shot through his ankle. “What do you want?” he demanded, his mood sour from spending the night in a hammock, lack of sleep, and offering up his flesh to every mosquito within a five-mile radius.

  “What are you doing out here?” she asked. “And what on earth happened to your ankle?”

  Kane glanced in the direction of his feet and saw the ankle had grown worse during the night. It had hurt like the devil all night long, but he hadn’t wanted to wake anyone in the house. He figured the hammock would be more comfortable than the attic. Still, he hadn’t fallen asleep until shortly before dawn.

  “I sprained it,” he said, noting how fresh Mel looked in a straight denim skirt and white blouse. He explained how he couldn’t sleep and had decided to go jogging.

  “In the dark?”

  “Yeah.” He’d already told himself he was dumber than cow dung for doing it.

  “Can you put any weight on it?”

  He shot her a pained look. “I suppose I could. But somebody would have to put a gun to my head to get me to do it.”

  She chuckled. “Just stay put for a minute. I’ll get Daddy out here.”

  Kane opened his mouth to protest, but she was gone before he could get the words out. She returned a moment later with Wilton, who was wearing a checkered bathrobe. Kane was forced to repeat the story of how he’d stepped in a hole in the road while jogging.

  “He probably needs to see a doctor,” Wilton said, helping Kane up and positioning himself under one arm while Mel did the same on the other side. Together, they managed to get him inside.

  “It’s just a sprain,” Kane assured them as he took a seat at the kitchen table.

  Mel was already pulling an ice tray from the freezer. “I’ll put ice on it,” she said. “If that doesn’t help, I’ll call Dr. Hadley.”

  When Blair stumbled into the kitchen half-asleep twenty minutes later, Kane was sitting in one chair, his foot propped on another with an ice pack on it. “What happened to you?” she asked in a voice that suggested whatever it was, it had to be illegal.

  “Kane sprained his ankle,” Mel told her. “He went jogging and stepped in a hole in the road.”

  Blair went straight for the coffeepot and poured herself a cup. “So how’s he supposed to find a job with a bad ankle?”

  Mel saw the hard look Kane shot Blair and knew he was on the verge of erupting. Why did Blair have to push him? “I’m sure Kane didn’t sprain it on purpose,” she said. “Besides, with the proper care, it’ll heal in no time.”

  “It’s beginning to feel better already,” Kane said, his mouth pressed into a grim line. He tried to stand, then winced, wondering how he was going to operate the clutch on his bike. Still, anything was better than dealing with this snotty creature before him. “If y’all don’t mind, I think I’ll hit the road,” he said, his voice edged with anger.

  Wilton walked into the room at the perfect time and placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere till that ankle is better. Mel can fix up the sofa so you can rest there.” His tone of voice suggested there was no room for debate.

  Kane hesitated. Although he was in a hurry to escape the mouthy blonde and get on with his life, he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Mel just yet.

  “And I’ll drop by at lunch and fix you a sandwich,” she said, when Kane seemed to be weakening. She smiled brightly. “Please stay. At least until you heal.”

  His gaze locked with hers. When she smiled like that, he felt it right in the pit of his stomach. He wondered how two sisters had turned out so differently. “Thanks,” he said, promising himself he would try to be more tolerant of Blair. “I’d like that.”

  “What about me?” Blair said, drawing a look from all three of them. �
��You’re not going to leave me here alone with him.”

  “I’m afraid we have no choice,” Wilton said, then winked at Kane. “Call me at the store if she gives you any trouble.”

  # # #

  Petals-n-Things was located across the street from the courthouse and tucked between Nel’s Piece Goods and Mike’s Bikes. Mel pushed open the old-fashioned beveled glass door and sent the tiny bell above into a wild frenzy.

  “Be with you in a sec,” Mel’s assistant called out from the back room.

  “It’s just me,” Mel replied.

  Eunice Jenkins appeared in the doorway wearing knit leggings, an oversized blouse, and a crocheted vest. Her flame-red hair, which was teased out to there, looked as though it might crack under the weight of so much hair spray. She held a basket of pink and white African violets. Unlike her clothing, they had been tastefully arranged.

  “Guess what?” she said, her voice conspiratorial. “Ed Higginbothom called me at home, got me out of the bed, to order flowers for his wife. You ask me, I think he’s feeling guilty about those long lunches with his secretary. Only they don’t call themselves secretaries these days. They’re administrative assistants.”

  Mel set her purse on the counter. “What makes you think Mr. Higginbothom and his secretary weren’t discussing business during these lunches?”

  Eunice gave a snort of disgust. “Well, honey, I’ve been married three times. I reckon I know a little bit about men, and what I do know is most of them are scum and will cheat if given half a chance.”

  “Ed and Martha Higginbothom have been happily married for twenty years. I don’t know a couple more suited.”

  “How do you know they’re happy? How do you know they aren’t staying together because they’re mortgaged to their belly buttons? Or maybe they’re staying together for the sake of the kids.”