Jill Shalvis - The Street Where She Lives

Dear Emily,

Your camping trip sounded like fun, maybe next time your parents would let you bring a friend. Like me!

Cool about Van, but don’t forget me, okay?

Beg your mom to let you take the bus to LA. Can’t wait to see you.

Your best friend,

Alicia.

MELANIE HIT the freeway, enjoying the sun and wind in her face courtesy of eighty miles an hour in the Miata, a car she could no longer afford since she’d lost her job this morning.

Talk about lousy Monday mornings. Worries started to creep in past the numbness, so she sped up.

A girl had to do what a girl had to do. And what she had to do was ignore the fact that she had no job, no rich husband and her thirty-fourth birthday looming around the corner.

How had she gotten so damn old? Craning her neck, she stared at her face in the rearview mirror. Great hair, artfully wild. Makeup emphasizing her still fab mouth and eyes. Clothes designed to make a grown man stand up and beg. She looked downright amazing, if she said so herself.

And she would have stayed home and proven that, if she’d had anywhere to go or someone to do it with, but the sorry truth was, most of her friends had long ago settled down, and the few that hadn’t were going barhopping, “slumming” as they called it, and quite frankly, she’d felt exhausted at the thought.

“Oh, God,” she muttered, gripping the wheel. “I am old!” Maybe she should turn around and do the barhopping thing, just to show she could still flaunt it. Maybe…ah, hell, she was already here.

Getting off the freeway at the first South Village exit, she ran into midmorning traffic. Then she had to circle Rachel’s block twice before she got a parking spot, so by the time she got out of her car, she was good and ready to rumble.

Halfway up the walk, someone called her name, and not just any someone, but a tall, dark and handsome someone with a voice that had haunted her dreams ever since New Year’s Eve. Garrett.

She could still hear his last words to her whenever she closed her eyes. A one-night stand isn’t going to be enough for me, Melanie. Not with you. If you ever want more, you know where I live.

She bared her teeth at him in the closest thing to a smile she had at the moment. “I don’t want more, in case you’re asking.”

He’d been raking his small front yard, wearing soft jeans and a T-shirt-both of which emphasized his long, muscled form-looking nothing like what she’d have pictured a stodgy dentist looking like on his day off.

But then again, there wasn’t a stodgy inch on Garrett, not a one. Setting the rake in front of him, he leaned on it and studied her. “I wasn’t asking.”

“Why not?” she let out before she could stop herself. Damn it, that question had come out sounding far too needy. Terrific. Well, chalk it up to a spectacularly bad day.

And why was she attracted to a man who’d called her a bad sister anyway? But attracted she was, and knew by the quiet heat in his eyes that she wasn’t the only one feeling it.

“I wasn’t asking,” he said, “because this is something you have to decide on for yourself.”

Her breath caught at the calm certainty in his voice. “Decide what?”

He tossed aside the rake and moved close. His big body should have intimidated her; instead, the way he stood so near felt…protective, even lightly possessive, and her knees wobbled.

“Decide when it’s time for the games to be over,” he said quietly. “So there can be an us.”

“Us?”

“Oh, yeah.” His fingers swept a strand of hair out of her face, and the touch to her cheek made her shiver. “There could be such a perfect us, Melanie. If you’d let it happen.”

Baffled, confused and extremely, humiliatingly close to tears, she ripped her sunglasses off and stared up at him. “Don’t mess with me, Garrett. Not today, it’s been a pisser.”

“I’m not messing with you.”

“But…you don’t even know me.”

“Don’t tell me you believe in lust at first sight, but not love?”

“Love.” The word choked her, she had no experience with it, none at all. “You’re insane, you know that?”

With another gentle, tender touch that made those burning tears spring to her eyes, he lifted her chin. “Tell me you don’t feel it, Melanie. That you haven’t felt it since that night.”

“That night we both agreed what we’d done was stupid.”

“I never thought anything of the sort. Never, ” he added firmly when she bit her lower lip. “I only wished we’d waited until you’d been ready for what really happened between us that night.”

“Which was?”

“The emotional connection. Look me in the eyes and tell me, and I’ll believe you.”

“I…” His eyes were deep, intense…and sincere. Oh, God, he meant it. And because he did, she couldn’t muster up a bravado smile or a lie, not to save her sorry soul.

“Say it. Say the word and I’ll walk away.”

“I…can’t,” she whispered, shocked.

He rewarded her by lowering his mouth to hers in a kiss that didn’t involve instant ravaging. No tongue, no teeth, no dirty words. Just firm, warm lips with so much emotion behind it, she found herself clinging.

And then he pulled away. “I only ask one thing,” he said a little huskily. “But it’s a deal-breaker if you can’t give it.”

Dazed, she looked up at him. Didn’t he know she’d give him anything? It shocked her to the very core, but it was the truth.

“I trust you. But in return, Melanie, you have to trust me implicitly.”

“What does trust have to do with anything?”

He smiled, and the sadness in it surprised her. “Everything. Take, for instance, the way you do everything in your power to make sure Ben and Rachel don’t get back together, even though you know in your heart that’s where they belong.”

“Wait a minute. I don’t-”

“Don’t you? Come on, Melanie. You must know in your heart they belong together, and yet you can’t quite handle the thought of Rachel being happy before you.”

“No, I-”

“You’ve purposely sabotaged her happiness because you’re not happy.”

My God, that was insane. She wouldn’t do that to her sister, she-

She’d done that to her sister.

Staggering back, she sat on the front step, ignoring the silk of her dress and how she couldn’t afford to replace it. “My God. I’m a bitch.”

“No.” Hunkering down before her, he took her hand in his. “You’re passionate and willful and a free spirit. I trust you to fix this. So, I guess the question is, do you trust me in return? To be there for you?”

In her book, trust was a dirtier word than love, and finding her pride, she yanked her hand free. “You’re right, that’s a deal-breaker.” She stood up. Her heart cried out at the prospect of walking away, but that’s what she was doing.

She’d hauled open the front door of Rachel’s house when he spoke again, his voice low and hoarse with regret. “Goodbye, Melanie.”

She opened her mouth, but her goodbye wouldn’t come. So she simply let herself inside and shut the door.

Then leaned against it and took a deep, shaky breath. A very small part of her feared she’d just ruined the best thing that might have ever happened to her.

The bigger part of her said screw the big jerk. She stormed the stairs and found Rachel in her studio. “Am I selfish?” she demanded.

“Well, hello to you, too,” Rachel said.

“Yeah, yeah, hello. Hugs and kisses.” Melanie put her hands on her hips and studied her sister critically. She wore nothing over her head today, and the soft fuzz had indeed grown into hair, albeit short, short hair. But somehow the way it fell against her face suited her. So did the peach lip gloss, which happened to be the only makeup she had on. Though she was still too thin, the cutoff jeans and tank top emphasized her small frame and the few curves she had. Rachel was, Melanie had to admit, still beautiful. “So am I? Selfish?”