Just Can't Forget You: Oakland Hills Short Story 2 (Oakland Hills #3.5)(7)

“Hi,” Melissa said.

Jody glanced at Simon, her smile tightening, and everyone fell silent.

“So, I’m so surprised to see you here,” Jody said. “What are you up to?”

“I work here.”

Eduardo noticed Melissa had paused a moment, and there was an edge to her voice. Simon stood off to one side, his hands in his pockets.

“Here?” Jody asked. Then she stretched out her arms. “Are you kidding me? That’s fantastic! I thought you were still in Las Vegas.” She enveloped Melissa in a bear hug, and after another awkward moment, they broke apart.

Melissa came over and stood close to Eduardo, brushing her elbow against his and plastering a huge smile on her face. “You two look good. Long time no see, Simon.”

Thinking she should have a little support, Eduardo hooked a possessive arm around her shoulders. Much to his satisfaction, he felt her fingers slip around his waist. His blood heated.

Simon took his hands out of his pockets and stepped forward, offering one. “You look great, Melissa.” His gaze darted to Eduardo, who stroked the curve of her shoulder. When her own fingers, still clutching his waist, began exploring the contours of his hip, he stopped caring about what the blond surfer yuppie had done to her long ago, turning his thoughts instead to what he’d like to be doing to her himself.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were here,” Jody said.


“I’m sorry. I’ve only been here a few weeks, but I should have,” Melissa said. “I’ve just been so busy.”

“I can see that,” Jody said, smiling.

Eduardo slowly moved his hand down her arm to her waist, hoping the awkward conversation would go on a little longer. She felt lush and sexy, sweet and warm.

To his disgust, she dropped her hand from his hip and offered it to Simon. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Simon’s face relaxed and he shook it with obvious eagerness. “It’s great to see you, too, Melissa.”

“We have to get going,” Melissa continued, returning to Eduardo’s side, “but let’s talk tonight. Promise.”

The women squeezed hands and waved and repeated their plans to catch up, and then Melissa and Eduardo strode out the back gate to the street.

With their arms around each other.



Melissa forced herself to pull away from Eduardo as soon as they were out of sight behind a billowing Cecile Brunner rose that blanketed the chain-link fence. Her car was parked at the end of the street, and she planned on studying drip irrigation for the next several hours until her emotions had cooled.

Which would be impossible in Eduardo’s arms. Cooling was the last thing that was going to be going on if he kept stroking her shoulder like that.

“Thanks,” she said, wiggling away from him, “but they can’t see us anymore.”

“I don’t care if they can see us or not.” He held her gaze. “Do you like Spanish?”

“You mean the food?”

The corner of his mouth curved up. “Yes. The food. Tapas, paella, sangria, that sort of thing.”

“I don’t think I’ll be very good company right now.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” he said.

“Seeing them was kind of a shock. I need time to process it.” Ten years ago Simon had hurt her badly, but now he was hooked up, apparently in a serious way, with one of her oldest friends.

“Process it with me.” He caught her arm and entwined her fingers with his.

She turned, caught in his warm grasp, and felt her stomach dance like a broken sprinkler.

He was both familiar and mysterious. What would it be like to have him? Or be had…

“I can’t. You’re my client.”

“I’m much more than that.” He paused. “We’re old friends.”

She rubbed her eyes. Not exactly. Sharing a group therapist wasn’t quite the same thing as a normal friendship. “I just started working here. I can’t get involved with a client.”

“Then I’ll wait,” he said.

Her willpower wavered. It wasn’t like they paid her very much…

No. She’d just moved hundreds of miles to work here, reconnect with old friends, build a meaningful life. She wasn’t going to chuck it for a handsome guy from her past who had more sex appeal in one muscled forearm than the sum total of every other man she’d ever…

“I can’t,” she repeated.

But he didn’t release her. His thumb, strong and warm, continued to caress the racing pulse at her wrist.





7


MELISSA THOUGHT IN A WILD panic that he was going to pull her into his arms and kiss her—she stopped breathing, bracing herself—but instead he released her hand and walked over to his sleek black motorcycle parked at the curb.

“All right,” he said, taking a helmet out of a case behind the seat. “Will I see you in the morning?”

Her relief wasn’t as strong as it should’ve been. “The morning?”

“To work on the garden.”

Her mind cleared. The garden. “Around eleven. Can you be there then to let me into the back? I have some errands to run.” Sunday morning she had reserved for worshiping at the coin-op laundry. Working in the earth was hell on the wardrobe.