Now here was a candidate for cloning, she decided, her gaze drifting down, over his muscle-ridged abdomen, lingering momentarily on his relaxed but still impressive manhood, then continuing down over his long, strong legs. Why the hell waste time cloning sheep when there were guys like Chris around? What a waste of medical science.
Her emotions had bubbled to the surface several times during the night, but she'd ruthlessly beaten them back. This was an affair. A temporary arrangement with no regrets. Yet one emotion had refused to be bludgeoned into submission. This man, her lover, who was as beautiful on the inside as he was on the outside, had made her feel something she'd never thought she'd feel again toward any man.
Trust.
She trusted him. Completely. When their affair ended, she could at least thank him for restoring her faith in the male species. He'd proven beyond all doubt that not all men were like Todd.
She wanted to reach out and touch him, but his deep, even breathing suggested that he'd dozed off. Besides, the mundane-mainly the need for food and drink-was intruding. Moving carefully so as not to wake him, Melanie scooted to the edge of the bed. She stood, stretched, and suppressed a groan.
Muscles she hadn't made use of in a long time tingled. A warm tenderness throbbed between her legs, and when she recalled the reason, a blush washed over her entire body. It amazed her that she still could blush. Heaven knew she didn't have any modesty left.
Instead of bothering with the wrinkled, lumpy mess that constituted her clothes, she opened Chris's closet and pulled out one of his dress shirts. Slipping it on, she made her way to the kitchen. The first thing she did was call home so Nana wouldn't worry. The answering machine picked up, which meant Nana was no doubt with Bernie. After leaving a message saying where she was and not to expect her anytime soon, Melanie opened the refrigerator.
True to bachelor form, there wasn't a whole lot on the shelves, but at least nothing appeared to fall into the science-experiment category. Humming softly, she set about preparing breakfast, her hands automatically chopping peppers and whisking eggs while her mind and her heart commenced a heated argument with each other.
Well, that was certainly a great evening, her mind commented. Great idea, using him for sex. Couldn't have picked a better lover. Hey, heart! You stayed in the other room, right?
Her heart pumped with indignation. No, I did not stay in the other room. I was right there, the whole time. Falling more and more in l-
Whoa! Hold it right there! mind interrupted. Don't even think of saying that. We had a deal. This is my gig. You're not supposed to be involved.
Too bad, said heart. I'm involved. Big time.
Mind rolled its eyes. Oh, that's just great. Well, I suggest you UN-involve yourself. Right now. Before you get hurt. Chris is a great guy, but you know he's not looking to settle down. He wants to lead the bachelor life. Besides, look what happened the last time you got all mushy. You broke into a thousand pieces. Why don't you just take a nice, relaxing vacation and leave Chris to me.
Heart shook its head. It's too late.
No! Mind yelled. It's never too late. You don't want a serious relationship anyway. I'm not going to let you ruin my fun! Go away!
I wish I could, said heart. Dear God, I wish I could.
Pull yourself together and just do it.
I'll try.
Atta girl.
Strong arms encircled her waist from behind, jerking her from her reverie.
"It sure smells good in here," Chris said, nuzzling the back of her neck with warm lips. "Whatcha' cookin'?"
A parade of tingles marched down her spine. "Your cupboard was sort of bare-"
"I am a bachelor, you know," he broke in, kissing the sensitive skin behind her ear.
Mind stuck out its tongue at heart and said, Nah, nah, told ya.
Melanie shook her head to shut mind up. "What we have here is my version of huevos rancheros."
"Wow. I love it when you talk French."
Melanie giggled. "That was Spanish."
He turned her around and laid one of those toe-curling, knee-weakening, slow, deep kisses on her.
"How long before breakfast is ready?" he asked, nibbling on her bottom lip.
"Why?"
He rubbed himself against her and Melanie realized he was naked. And fully aroused.
"Why do you think?" he asked.
Laughter bubbled up in her throat. "You can't be serious."
He leaned back and looked pointedly downward. "Do I look like I'm joking?" He started unbuttoning her shirt.
Melanie peeked down and gulped. Holy smokes. He was serious. "I thought you were hungry."
The shirt hit the floor. He bent his head and fastened his lips on her nipple. "I'm starved," he murmured.
The spatula slipped from Melanie's fingers and clattered on the ceramic tile floor. She somehow had the presence of mind to reach behind her and turn down the stove before he scooped her up and carried her back to the bedroom and gently deposited her on the rumpled sheets.
"I woke up and you were gone," he said, kneeling between her splayed thighs. He ran a single finger between her breasts down to her navel. "I missed you."
Melanie watched him, her heart speeding up as his finger continued on its lazy journey and played with the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.
"I thought you wanted breakfast," she murmured, hot desire pooling low in her body.
"I do. Later." He trailed his fingers up her thigh and tangled themselves in the curls at the apex. "Right now I want you."
"Oh, well, all right," Melanie managed to say, her eyes drifting closed when he caressed the moist, swollen flesh between her legs. "If you insist."
Thirty minutes later, once again clad in Chris's dress shirt, Melanie poked at the congealed mess in the frying pan.
"How do you like your eggs?" she called. "Black or brown?"
Chris walked into the kitchen, dressed in a clean T-shirt, a pair of navy shorts, and his Reeboks. He looked over her shoulder and whistled.
"Yuck," he said, shaking his head. "That looks like stuff you scrape off tires. Good thing I'm heading out to grab us some grub."
Melanie cocked a brow at him. "This would have been a perfectly respectable breakfast if certain people hadn't distracted the cook."
He patted her behind. "Couldn't help it. The cook was mighty distracting."
Melanie turned and found herself face to face with him. Dark stubble shaded his jaw, and his hair looked as if someone-namely her-had been running her fingers through it. He looked incredibly sexy and slightly rumpled, as if he'd just rolled out of bed, which, of course, was precisely the case.
"I think," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck, "that you are just easily distracted."
"Funny thing is, I'm usually not."
"Could have fooled me. As far as I can tell, you get aroused by a strong breeze. Not that I'm complaining."
He cupped her face with his hands, his gaze long and searching. "I get the impression," he said, a frown forming between his brows, "that you think what happened between us last night is a normal and frequent occurrence for me."
"Isn't it?" Melanie shook her head in disbelief at her own question. She held up her hands. "No, never mind. I don't want to know. It's none of my business anyway."
"None of your business?" he repeated, an incredulous note in his tone. "Oh, boy. Listen, we are going to talk about this. But later. I'm in serious need of sustenance. Why don't you put on some coffee while I'm gone." He dropped a kiss on her nose. "I'll be right back."