Melt For Me (Against All Odds Book 3) (4 page)

In a rush, he realized the arm he was holding wasn’t bulky and masculine but thin and feminine. “Ella?”

She slowed her frantic struggling. “T-Tate? Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Oh my God. What the heck do you think you’re doing?”

“What am
I
doing? What are you doing swinging bottles at me? You could have killed me.”

“I thought you were a burglar.” She tried to wrestle her wrist free of his grip, but he didn’t let go, just in case she had another bottle ready to heave his way. “And what are you doing in my cellar?”

“I came down to flip the power back on.”

She slowed her struggling. “How do you know my power’s out?”

“Because I was upstairs reading when it went out. The other buildings around here aren’t dark, so I figured it has to be a fuse.”

She was silent for several seconds, but her pulse sped up beneath his fingers where he still held her wrist. And though he tried not to notice, he couldn’t miss the fact her skin was just as silky soft as he remembered. “Upstairs where?”

“Third floor. Kelly offered me a room since the highway’s still blocked from that landslide and the hotels in town are full.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” This time when she pulled back, she was strong enough to break free of his hold. “You’re not staying on the third floor.”

His patience hit an end point. Seeing Ella again had not gone at all as he’d planned. Not to mention that now a heavy ache radiated outward from his shoulder, he was tired, and he smelled like a still. “Well, it’s not your building, now is it? So I guess you don’t have much of a say in the matter.”

She huffed a sound that was both exasperation and annoyance, but Tate was too keyed up to care which.

Shit, there was broken glass all over the floor, and he was wearing nothing but socks. She probably was too if she’d come down here for the same reason he had.

“Stay back,” he said. “And what the hell did you hit me with?” He lifted his fingers and sniffed at the liquid still dripping down his arms. “Bourbon?”

“I don’t know. I just grabbed the first bottle I could reach. I didn’t know it was you.”

He wasn’t sure how to take that. Considering her chilly response earlier in the evening, it was highly possible she’d have picked a bigger, heavier bottle if she’d known it was him.

“Well, don’t move. There’s glass everywhere.” He knelt down and reached a hand out gingerly. Something sharp poked into his palm. “Dammit.”

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Trying to find my phone. I dropped it when you clocked me.”

“Are you wearing shoes?”

“No.”

“Of course you aren’t,” she muttered. “Okay, hold on. I have a flashlight somewhere. Don’t move.”

“Don’t…” Shuffling sounded, and his adrenaline shot up. “Be careful you don’t cut yourself.”

“Wait. I think… There it is.” A click sounded, followed by a rattle, then a weak beam of light illuminated the ground. “Shoot. I think this thing is going to go out soon.”

The light flickered as it shone over the wet ground, broken glass, and Tate’s soaking socks. One look was all he needed to confirm he’d slice up the bottom of his feet if he took a step in any direction.

“Stay where you are.” Ella moved back with the light, leaving him in darkness again. “I think there’s a broom somewhere down here.”

“Ella—”

She and her light disappeared around a shelving unit.

Tate rested his hands on his hips in the dark and sighed. He’d never been able to tell the woman anything. Why would now be any different? “Don’t mind me. I’m clearly not going anywhere.” Then, under his breath, added, “Or getting anywhere.”

She was back in a matter of seconds, flickering her light over his feet once more. Pushing the flashlight into his hand, she said, “Here. Aim this down so I can see.”

He pointed the light over the floor as she swept the glass into a pile against the wall. Cute little pink moccasin slippers covered her feet. When she angled the broom to his right, he shone it in that direction and spotted his phone on the cement floor, the screen completely shattered.

“Oops.” The broom stilled in her hands. “Sorry about that.”

Great. Now he’d have to waste time getting a replacement tomorrow.
If
any store in Holly even stocked cell phones. Maybe this plan wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done.

“There,” she said as she swept the glass into the corner of the room. “I think you’re okay to move now.”

Scowling, he carefully stepped over the puddle on the floor just in case she’d missed any glass, ready to be done with this bust of a night. “Just point me in the direction of the breaker box.”

She pointed toward the far wall. Moving around behind her, he handed her the light and tried to ignore the warmth of her body sliding over him as he drew near, but couldn’t ignore it completely. And this close, he could smell her, like vanilla and honey, the same scents he remembered from their days together on the beach.

Focus, dipwad. Scaring the crap out of her is not winning you any points. Get the power back on and get back to your room before you make things worse.

“You’re not, um, bleeding or anything, are you?” Ella’s voice cut through his reverie as he opened the box and fiddled with the breakers.

Tate rolled his shoulder where she’d hit him with the bottle. “No, not cut. Just sore. Think my shirt protected me.”

She exhaled. “Good.”

Was that worry he heard in her voice? His fingers hesitated against a breaker. A tiny place deep inside hoped so. That, at least, might score him lunch tomorrow. Or, if he was really lucky, an “I’m sorry” dinner. He flipped the last breaker that did nothing to the lights.

Frowning, he closed the box and turned back to face her. All he could see was the outline of her shadow, but he knew she was watching him, and a tingle of awareness trickled through him, one that didn’t help the situation, considering he knew she wanted him gone. “It’s not a tripped breaker.”

“Could it be a blown fuse?”

“Maybe. Where do you keep extra fuses?”

Ella looked around the dark cellar. “I have no clue.”

They could spend hours searching for a fuse down here in the dark. And while being alone with her held a note of interest, he was wet, cold, and now sore thanks to that bottle. His best bet was to start over in the morning. “Well, we’re not going to find it tonight. I say we look in the morning when it’s light.”

He stepped past her for the stairs. At his back, she said, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Back to bed.” He found the wood banister and placed one wet sock on the bottom step.

“And how do you plan to get there?”

“Through the door.”

“Good luck with that.”

He paused halfway up the stairs and looked down at her shadowy figure. The light flickered, casting shadows along the walls. “What do you mean?”

“I mean neither one of us is going anywhere. That door locks automatically, which is why I had it propped open. When you came in and let it slam behind you, you locked us in.”

Tate’s gaze snapped up toward the heavy wood door in front of him. “You’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not. Way to go, rock star.”

Tate skipped steps to get to the top and reached for the door handle. But the knob didn’t turn in his hand. He shoved his shoulder against it. Once. Twice. The thick old door didn’t even budge.

“It was almost four when I came down,” Ella called from below. “Matt and the lunch crew won’t be in until ten, which means we have roughly six hours to wait.”

“Six hours?” Tate stilled. He was soaking wet. No way he’d last six hours in the cold down here. He’d freeze to death before anyone found them.

“Yep. Six hours,” she repeated. “We should probably try to find some way to keep warm before the light goes—”

The flashlight flickered, then died, dousing the cellar in darkness.

“—out.” Ella sighed again. “So much for that plan. You got any bright ideas, Kendrick?”

The words “warm” and “plan” and “trapped” circled in Tate’s head.

Yeah, he could think of one way to stay warm and kill time, but something told him Ella wouldn’t go for it. Still…the thought of trying to convince her might just be enough to keep his blood pumping so he didn’t turn into a snowman down here in the dark.

E
lla managed to find a roll of plastic garbage bags on the shelf by feeling around. Twice she almost knocked over a fifth of some kind of alcohol, but righted the bottles before they were stuck with another mess on their hands.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself if you’re not careful,” Tate said in the dark behind her. “You can’t see a single thing.”

“Too late. I found them.” She turned back toward sound of his voice. “Hold out your hand.”

She fanned her hand through the darkness, searching for him. Her fingers grazed his arm, and her pulse jumped when she realized he was closer than she’d expected.

“Here.” She pulled off several bags for herself, then shoved the roll into his hands and moved back.

“Garbage bags, huh?”

Ella shook out one bag, reached inside and found the bottom, then punctured the plastic with her fingernails to make a hole. “I know it’s not exactly rock-star couture, but it’ll trap body heat and keep you from freezing until morning.”

He grumbled something about plastic not being his heat method of choice, but then plastic rustled, telling her he was playing along even if he wasn’t happy.

Lowering herself to the floor, Ella felt along the wall to make sure the space was clear, then leaned back. She pulled the plastic sack over her so it fit like a shirt, didn’t bother with armholes, then pushed her feet into another sack so it covered her legs up to her thighs. Finally, she laid a third sack over the tops of her legs, tucked all the loose ends under her, then tugged the sack around her torso down to trap her body heat.

Not perfect, but pretty clever, if she did say so herself.

Tate grumbled again, then plastic rustled as he sat somewhere to her right. “I’m still going to freeze to death down here.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I had to take my shirt off because it’s soaked.”

An image of his bare chest popped into her mind, sending a burst of heat all through her veins. At twenty-two, he’d been in amazing shape. At thirty-one, though, given how often he was in the spotlight and what she’d felt when he’d grabbed her in the dark, she could only imagine how ripped he’d become.

Ella cleared her throat and shifted her mind away from his body. “You’re still not going to freeze.”

He sighed, and several moments of silence filled the cellar. A bead of hope formed in Ella’s chest. Maybe he was going to sleep. That would save her from having to talk. Because talking would ultimately lead to reminiscing, and reminiscing would lead to feelings she did not need to feel.

“So we’ve got six hours,” he said, his husky voice breaking the peaceful silence.

Ella frowned. So much for sleep.

“Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to for nine years,” he finished.

Oh no. She did not want to talk about
that
. Her only chance was to turn the tables and keep the topic on him. “My nine years have been boring. College and work. Let’s talk about yours. Though anyone who follows the tabloids knows exactly what you’ve been up to.”

He chuckled in the darkness, and she had the distinct impression she was amusing him, when her comment had been meant as a barb to get him to back off. “Yeah, those tabloids. They always get things right. Tell you what, why don’t
you
tell me what I’ve been doing for nine years, and we’ll see if you get it right.”

Was he playing a game with her? Ella turned to look his way but couldn’t see more than pitch-black darkness. A tiny voice in the back of her head warned that talking about anything was a bad idea, but she ignored it. Just as she’d always ignored all common sense whenever he was around.

“Let’s see,” she started. “After you left me—”

“I didn’t leave you. If you recall, you’re the one who told me to go.”

“Semantics.” And she definitely wasn’t going
there…
ever. “You went back to college, finished your degree in California, and formed a band in your downtime.”