the hired help sleep in the main house and refer to the property as theirs? And just where the hell is my father?”
Cody stretched himself to his fullest height. His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched in a hard line. “You’ve got quite a mouth on you, kid.” He continued to stare at her, refusing to give her any quarter. She certainly did have quite a mouth on her—it was full, lush and very sensual. Just the type of mouth that needed to be kissed—long, hard…and often.
“I’m hardly a kid and I certainly don’t appreciate your arrogant attitude. Besides, that doesn’t answer my question.” She adopted a condescending air as she continued to question him. “But if a two-part question is too difficult for you, we can skip the first part and go right to the second.” Then, without warning, the hard edge again surrounded her words. “Where is my father? What have you done with him?”
“You weren’t concerned a year ago, so why should you be concerned now?” Again he gave her no leeway. He refused to back off or give her any room to maneuver.
The conversation had taken a totally unexpected turn in direction. Something was wrong…terribly wrong. The anger drained from Melanie, to be replaced by an unsettling jitter that started in the pit of her stomach and quickly spread throughout her body. Was she too late? Had her decision to resolve the estrangement with her father and attempt to bridge the huge chasm between them come too late? Her voice no longer held the antagonism that had been there just moments earlier. It now told of the new fears that had immediately invaded her consciousness. “A year ago? What happened a year ago?” She swallowed a couple of times in an attempt to put down her rising fear. “What do you mean?”
He instantly caught her change in attitude. Was it possible that she did not know? Had she returned for some reason other than to hover around a dying man in order to be on hand when it came time to cash in on her inheritance? “Buck’s been sick for some time now.” He weighed his next words carefully as he studied her reaction to what he said. He saw the shock cover her face and a hint of sadness come into her eyes. He was not sure whether to try to cushion the blow of what she apparently did not know, or give her what he believed she deserved by not sparing her feelings.
Mel stumbled backward and plopped into a chair. Her father had been suffering from a lengthy illness? “I…I didn’t know.” She tried to collect her thoughts. This was not at all what she had expected to find. She had mentally prepared herself for the inevitable string of ongoing arguments with her father, but not for this. She looked up at Cody. “How can this be? He’s always been as strong as an ox, never sick a day in his life.” She saw it in Cody’s eyes. He was not able to hide the deep concern that he felt. “How…what…” Her words trailed off. She was afraid to ask the ultimate question, so she said nothing.
Cody was torn between her genuine surprise and unexpected concern and his resentment of her for the anguish she had put her father—his close friend—through for the past ten years. He steeled himself against the warm spot deep inside that seemed to want to reach out toward her need. “I sent you a letter last June. Since nobody knew how to get in touch with you, I mailed it to the publication that had just printed one of your articles, with a notation for them to forward it to you.” Even though he was determined not to make things easy for her, he still inwardly flinched at the bitterness he heard in his words and tone of voice.
Her response was almost a whisper. There was a slight quaver to her voice. “I never received it.” She held his steady look for a long moment before she broke eye contact with him. She could see his disapproval, and for some reason it bothered her. That this arrogant, antagonistic, unpleasant stranger seemed to disapprove of her actually bothered her. As she glanced away her gaze fell across his taut, well-toned upper torso with the ugly red gouges.
She recaptured his eye contact and he continued to stare at her. His posture and body language still challenged her and her right to have entered the house. She looked away again, and this time her gaze traveled around the living room. It was mostly as she had remembered it with one notable exception. A new recliner occupied a place of honor in the corner, replacing what had been her father’s favorite chair.
The old chair had been worn out for as long as Mel could remember. Her mother had bought him a new chair for Christmas one year, but he refused to use it and she had eventually donated it to charity. Apparently the ratty old chair had finally given out and her father had replaced it. Why had he not done it while her mother was still alive? Why had he not shown even the slightest bit of appreciation for her mother’s efforts or concern for her mother’s feelings? The old hurt flooded into her consciousness. She had thought she was distanced enough from the old memories to be able to handle them. She blinked away the tears.
Cody saw the tears fill her eyes and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. He relaxed his stance. “Is something wrong? I didn’t hurt you when I knocked you down, did I?”
“No…no, you didn’t hurt me. I’m exhausted, that’s all. I’ve driven all the way from Los Angeles without any sleep.” She stifled a yawn, as if to reinforce her claim.
She looked in his direction again and gestured toward his bare chest. “In fact, it seems I did the damage to you. I’m sorry.”
For the first time Cody noticed the scratches on his chest. It had all happened so quickly he had not been aware of them. The only thing clear in his mind was the moment he had discovered it was a woman he had tackled—the moment his hand closed over her breast. “That’s all right. I guess you’re entitled to defend yourself, even if you’re the one who’s the intruder.” He had expected some sort of rebuttal from her, but he did not get it.
Mel heard his words but was unable to respond to his accusation. There were too many memories, too many old feelings, all clamoring for her undivided attention. She looked up at Cody again. His stance had softened, as had his expression. “Where’s my father?”
“He’s moved from his bedroom into the parlor. Not only is it a much larger room, it’s also a bright corner room with lots of windows that give him the morning sun. He seems to be more comfortable there. He’s asleep now and I don’t want him disturbed.” Those last words carried the sound of absolute authority, again challenging her right to be there.
“But I’m his daughter—”
“Yes, the daughter who hasn’t sent as much as a postcard in nearly ten years.” The hard edge returned to Cody’s voice as he spoke through clenched teeth. “The daughter who broke his heart.”
Mel jumped to her feet. She would not tolerate any more insolence from this stranger who seemed to have appointed himself Lord of the Manor. The angry words spewed out before she could stop them. “How dare you presume to make judgments about me and my relationship with my father? You weren’t here. You don’t know what happened!” She fought back the tears. Her voice dropped to a mere whisper as she forced the words. “You don’t know anything about it.” She quickly regained her composure, her indignation once again taking command. “Besides, it’s none of your business!” She felt the heat color her cheeks and the angry tears sting her eyes.
The old grandfather clock struck five times, drawing Cody’s attention away from Mel. If he were not already standing in the living room, it would be time to get up. He became aware of the cold air against his chest and his bare feet. He did not answer her challenge. He wasn’t sure how to answer it. Perhaps he had been out of line in what he said, but he certainly had no intention of apologizing. He turned and went to his bedroom to finish dressing.
Mel watched as he walked down the hall and entered the first room on the right, closing the door behind him. Maybe he was through with the conversation, but she was far from finished with him. She charged down
