Page 56 of Captive Heart

Melody huffed out a breath and folded her arms in front of her protectively.

"I needed a spanking," she mumbled, staring down at the sturdy industrial grade carpet as her face flushed.

"And why couldn't you come to me about that?" Micah asked broodingly, his shoulders hunched, and his lips pressed together in a thin line.

"Because I maybe wanted something more as well, and you made it quite clear that you were opposed." No way she was admitting to anything more other than that. He could put two and two together for himself.

"I never said any such thing!" He scowled, folding his powerful arms over his muscled chest and stretching the fabric of his shirt across his broad shoulders in a way that made Melody's mouth water. The involuntary reaction made her feel cranky.

"You didn't have to!" she exclaimed. "It was obvious from the way you kept your distance after the last time." She didn't mean it to sound accusatory, but Melody knew it had come out that way. God, she wished they didn't have an audience for this conversation. It was embarrassing enough as it was!

"What? So, you thought you'd just swan off into the club and pick up some stranger who has no idea what you've been through?" Micah retorted, obviously having no such problem with anyone else listening.

Melody flinched at the criticism but gave back as good as she got. "Of course not. Trinity gave me some names and told Laurel to introduce me," she retorted with a huff.

"Who?" Micah demanded, swinging his angry gaze toward Trinity, who was eyeing his overly protective stance with a keen interest.

"Master Flynn and Master Cameron," Trinity told him with deceptive innocence.

Micah's face darkened, and he pursed his lips as he looked back at her. "And what 'more' did you want from them?" he asked, raking over Melody's appearance with flinty eyes.

"I'm not discussing that right now," Melody retorted, balling her hands into fists at her sides. "It isn't relevant."

"I'll decide if it's relevant or not," Micah countered, but Melody pressed her lips tight together and the two of them came to a standoff.

"Ahem!" Andy Storer cleared his throat deliberately from next to them. "As entertaining as all of this is, what is relevant are the details of what happened downstairs and what we are going to do about it," he declared, taking the wind out of each of their sails.

After that, Melody spent ages going over everything she could remember with the detective. He insisted on probing any little thing she could think of, while Trinity went back out to oversee the club and make some discrete enquiries, and Micah hovered around her like a brooding, overprotective guardian.

What did he look like? Could she provide an accurate description? How tall was he? Were there any distinctive markings, scars or tattoos that might be used to distinguish him by? What was he wearing, did she notice anyone who might have been accompanying him, either male or female? Did he appear familiar with the surroundings? Did she get the impression he had been there before? Where, exactly, in the club had the incident taken place?

The questions seemed to go on forever.

She got a brief reprieve when Detective Storer turned his attention on Micah, wanting to know if there was any possibility of the perp being caught on one of the security cameras. But as soon as Micah agreed to have all the feeds checked, his concentration settled back on Melody, and he resumed his questioning again.

It went on and on until her head hurt, and she could no longer think straight. It was only then he let up, albeit with the promise to return the following day to see if anything else had shaken down in her memory. Although Melody didn't believe anything could possibly have been overlooked.

She was feeling wrung out and antsy when he finally took his leave. This evening had not played out at all how she had imagined, and now she was carrying even more guilt at going to the club behind Micah's back.

Not that she needed his permission for anything, but that was still the way she felt, and it irritated her all the more, because he could not have been clearer, in his withdrawal, that he didn't want the responsibility of spanking her.

By the time Micah and Trinity finished closing up the club for the night, Melody had showered in the tiny staff washroom and changed into a pair of comfortable, fuzzy pyjamas which were about as alluring as a tea cosy. She was done with trying to look sexy. That had gotten her precisely nowhere, and now she just felt like a fool for even bothering. The memory of Micah's critical gaze, even though he'd thought she wasn't aware, adding to her feelings of utter deflation. What the hell was she doing with her life?

Jesus Christ, that was a laugh, wasn't it?

What damn life?

She didn't have one. She never had.

Not one she could call her own, where she followed her own path and made her own decisions. Good or bad, it didn't matter. It only mattered that they were hers.

Well, just look where that had gotten her, Melody thought dejectedly.

Micah had ordered her to stay put in the staff room, and that was fine with her. She had no desire to go looking for any more trouble, and that seemed to be the only thing she was capable of attracting.

So, curling up on the couch, Melody gave in to the heaviness of her eyes. She'd just rest them a minute. She was tempted to fold out the sofa bed Micah used in here and climb into it, but no doubt he'd take that entirely the wrong way.

Everything between them suddenly seemed to be out of sorts. She was lusting after him, and he was avoiding her. Cause and effect; she supposed that said it all.

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