Love Means Nothin'

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Love Means Nothin' Page 10

by Markee Anderson


  She was sure he was overreacting. “So I have nightmares. Why are you here in my bed?”

  “In case you have more nightmares. I want to be here for you all the time, even when you’re asleep.”

  “Thank you, but ya really don’t have to. I feel stupid.”

  He pulled her back to the bed and stroked her eyebrows, then her cheek. “Go back to sleep. I promise you’re safe and your dad’s not going to find you here.”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” she said. “You don’t know my dad.”

  “No, but I’d like to meet him some day.”

  Was he insane? “No way. Never. Hunh-uh.”

  “Oh, we’ll see,” he said, his arm going over her waist. He was asleep again in no time.

  Melody stared at the man in her bed. This was definitely the oddest situation she’d ever had to deal with her whole life. She never slept with anyone in her bed, but it felt good, almost too good.

  The bed was huge, but he slept right up beside her, protecting her. He smelled of his aftershave, making her close her eyes and inhale his scent. She felt loved, and knew he cared about her as much, if not more than she cared about him. Yes, she had to admit she did care about him. But, she didn’t want to admit she was also infatuated with the adorable man sleeping beside her, or that she was falling in love with him.

  She lay awake and studied all his features, so perfect, yet so masculine. She wanted to touch his face, then continue on from there, but knew if she started, she wouldn’t be able to stop. Instead, she reached over and turned out the light, then tried to sleep. It felt so right to her with his arm over her, that she snuggled up to him and closed her eyes.

  ~~~~~

  “Melody.” The sound of her name seemed to be right beside her ear, then she realized she was hugging something warm. She opened her eyes and peered right into John’s face, inches from her own. Her arm was over his chest and her knee was thrown over his thigh.

  “Uh.” She moved away from him and hopped off the bed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

  John laughed at her. “It’s not a problem. You can go back to sleep. Dennis just woke me and I’m late to practice.”

  “Dennis woke you—and I was sleeping—oh my!” She covered her mouth and felt her face heat up.

  “He knows it’s innocent, and so do I. Get over it. Now, I have to go practice.”

  “But you never sleep in,” she said. “You told me that yourself.”

  “You’re right, and that was, by far, the best sleep I’ve had in years. Thank you so much.”

  “But I almost slept on top of you!”

  “Yep. Better than a blanket.” He turned and walked out of the room, but before he closed the door, he faced her. “Go back to sleep. It’s only five in the morning, and we don’t leave for two more hours.”

  She held her temples, feeling a headache threatening to give her the pain of a lifetime. “Oh wait. It’s all coming back to me. Your mother.”

  “That’s right, sweetheart. Oh, and act like you love me or my mother will think you’re just a groupie.”

  “Act? What are you talking about?”

  “She thinks we’re getting married. Bye.” He closed the door and she could hear him laughing in the hallway.

  “Married?” she said. “I’m not getting married!”

  “Yes, you are,” he yelled from down the hall.

  She stormed out of the room and down to the door on the far end. The door was closed but she didn’t care. She opened it wide with a bang.

  There, standing before her, was John without a shirt. He was wearing boxer briefs, but that was all.

  His lips turned into a wide grin, with a silly smirk on his face. “So, you came to help me get dressed?”

  “No. I came to talk about this marriage thing.” His muscles were well defined, with the most incredible six-pack abs she’d ever seen, even on the covers of magazines. Every muscle in each leg was toned, and she could swear there wasn’t an ounce of fat on the man.

  “Do you like gawking at me?” he asked.

  “You’re stunning, but that’s beside the point.” She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze, feeling every ounce of her red-haired temperament filling her face. “I’m not getting’ married, and you’d better tell your mother, or—”

  “Or what?”

  “I’ll leave and you’ll never see me again.”

  He pulled on a t-shirt and shorts. “I think I can find you. You can’t run away from me, and you know it.”

  “Watch me.” She turned, ran back to her room and started to pack.

  Just as she zipped up the suitcase, she felt warm hands on her shoulders. “Stop.”

  Turning, she faced him, seeing he was now wearing a blue t-shirt.

  She wasn’t worried about anything for once in her life. She was hardly timid. “Why? So you can use me to get your mother off your back?”

  “What are you talking about?” he said in a quiet voice.

  Melody threw her hands on her hips. “Your mother wants you to get married, doesn’t she?”

  “Not really. She doesn’t think I’m ready for such a thing, and I have to get this tennis stuff out of my system first. You being in town has been quite a shock for her.”

  “Who told her about me? Your father?”

  “Yes. He’s the one who told her I was marrying you. I had nothing to do with it. Before I came upstairs last night, I called to thank him for taking care of the problem at the hotel.” He lowered his hands and his eyes. “That was shocking enough for him.”

  “Why?”

  “Dad and I don’t get along. I don’t think we’ve ever said thank you to each other. Ever.”

  She felt sad yet confused. Why would someone treat a family member like that? “That’s very sad. It’s time to fix that.”

  “I agree,” he said, lifting his eyes again. “Now, as for Mom—”

  She crossed her arms. “Fix that, too or I’m outta here. I’m not getting married and I don’t intend to be thought of as a groupie.”

  “I understand. So who are you to me?”

  “A friend of your friend’s future wife.”

  He shook his head. “Chuck’s not my friend and she knows that.”

  “Don’t mention his name. I’m here to be a bridesmaid and that’s the only reason I’m in town. You know the groom, and leave it at that. Now why am I going to meet your mother again?”

  “Because I love you?” he asked.

  “Not a good answer. Try again.”

  “You’re tough when you want to be.” His sigh was loud. “Let’s see. You wanted to see the Hamptons?”

  “Better answer. I can deal with it. Now you said two hours. You have to go practice and I need a shower, if that’s okay.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, laughing. He turned, but then quickly spun back around. “Hey, want to design my logo for me?”

  “I’d love to. Now out.” She pushed him out the door and closed it behind her. She could hear him laugh the whole way down the stairs, making her chuckle.

  She took some clothes with her into the bathroom, thinking of things she could do for a logo for him while she showered. She loved to draw, and if she just had the money, she’d have gone to college for art. After that, she’d try to get a job in her field, but knew she had to know someone to make it in art. It was a dream, anyway, so it didn’t matter.

  After getting dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, she went outside and sat down on the chair. She got out her sketchbook and a pencil, and watched him play tennis against an automatic ball machine.

  “You don’t have a practice partner today?” she asked.

  “He’ll be here in a few minutes. I had to cut the treadmill short today because I overslept.”

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  His face broke into a silly grin. “I’m not. It feels great.”

  “Am I dressed okay to see your mother?” she asked, looking down over her outfit.

  “Why do you care?�
� he said with a grin, still hitting the balls being thrown at him. “She’s just another person to you, right?”

  “No, she’s your mother. I still have to be nice.” She glanced down at her outfit again. “These are the only clothes I have that are clean, after playing tennis with you.”

  “I’ll have the maid wash your clothes. I didn’t even think about it.” He kept hitting balls, and she started to draw.

  A man walked onto the court, dressed to play tennis. He was wearing expensive clothing for just practice, so Melody listened, wondering about the man. He walked over to the machine, which was still shooting balls toward John, and flipped it off. As he and John picked up tennis balls, John started up a conversation.

  “Do you feel better today?” John asked.

  “Sure.” The man glanced at Melody, but she tried to keep her eyes on her paper. “Who’s the pretty girl?”

  John smiled. “Melody, this is Cody. Cody, this is Melody. She’s here for a friend’s wedding.”

  She lifted her head and grinned. He was finally learning that he shouldn’t be telling people they were dating, at least.

  Cody looked toward her with a grin. “I’d have guessed you’re the one getting married, from what I hear.”

  “What do ya hear?” she asked.

  “Oh, a southerner. No one told me you were from the south.”

  “Yes, sir, West Virginia. Now what did y’all hear?”

  “According to the papers, you and John are engaged and ready to get married.”

  “What?” she asked. “Where did you see that? It’s not true.”

  “If I had my way, it would be,” John murmured with a grin. He picked up a ball and faced Cody. “Ready?”

  “Sure.”

  John served and they began hitting the ball back and forth.

  “So are you engaged?” Cody asked John.

  “No. I wish. At least my parents think it’s true.”

  She sighed. He really had a one-track mind. “No, they don’t and you’d better not lead them on, either,” she muttered.

  John watched Cody with a grin, then nodded his head. “That would be fun, wouldn’t it?”

  “What are you drawing?” Cody asked Melody, while hitting the ball back to John.

  “Nothing much. I seem to be at an impasse.”

  “She’s good,” John said. “You should see some of the things she’s drawn. I’m having her make me a logo.”

  “A logo? Great idea. Once you win the Open, you’ll need it.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” John hit it past Cody. “Ready to play a game now?”

  “Sure.”

  They started to play for points and blood, or so it seemed, while Melody just drew. She had five ideas to start with, but only one stuck out as the best. Every time she started a new page, that one kept coming back to her.

  She watched them play for a while, realizing Cody was a better player than Nelson was. John was beating him, but not by much. He was working hard, and Cody was straining to keep up. At one point, they volleyed, going for so long, they both started to laugh. Finally, John turned it around and snuck the ball to Cody’s far right. There was no way he could get it.

  “I think that’s it,” John said. “We have to go see Mom, and it’s about a two hour drive from here. Thanks for coming over.”

  “You played better than I’ve ever seen you play,” Cody said. “You beat me every set.” He glanced over at Melody. “Is it because of her?”

  John nodded, and even though Melody tried to keep her head down to draw, she glanced up to see it happen. So she was the reason he was playing so well? It didn’t make any sense to her, but little did in John’s world.

  Cody left and John fell into the chair beside Melody. He was very sweaty, but she found it sexy for some reason.

  He reached over and picked up her pad of paper. “You did these?”

  “Sure. I’d have to clean them up a bit, but they’re the start of a logo.”

  “No cleaning. I like them just the way they are. Especially this first one.” It was a silhouette of him using a forehand on a ball, smashing the thing across the net—the one she liked.

  “It’s not quite right, though,” she said.

  “You’re right. It needs my signature.” He took her pencil and wrote over it on a slant, right across the legs of his silhouette.

  “Perfect,” she said with a grin. “You’re good.”

  “Can I have this?” he asked. “It’s exactly what I need when I win.”

  “What’s the chance you’ll win?”

  “Very good. I’m not seeded as highly as I want to be, but the people watching me at the tournament think I’ll win.” He studied her. “I need you here, though. You’re my inspiration.”

  She pointed toward her chest. “Me?”

  “Yes, you. You’ve done a lot for me, and I’d love to have you in the stands.”

  “But I have to go home tomorrow. Remember that part? Daddy needs me.”

  His blue eyes studied her face. “I’ll hire someone to take care of him.”

  “But I have to work.”

  He tilted his head, his gaze on her. “Where do you work?”

  She lowered her eyes. “I’d rather not say.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s a long story. Now are you ready to go face your mother? You’re kind of sweaty and I don’t think she’ll like that.”

  He smiled and kissed her cheek. “Yes, ma’am.” He helped her to her feet. “Put your dirty clothes in the hallway and the maid will take care of them. They’ll be done before the wedding.”

  “I can wash them out myself in the sink,” she said.

  “Nope. You don’t have time.” He walked with her inside the house and into the dining room. “It’s time for breakfast.”

  “Breakfast? I don’t usually eat—”

  “You do today.” He forced her into a chair and walked away, then turned suddenly. “I’ll be right back. Feel free to start without me. As soon as Eugene gets here, we’ll leave.”

  “Eugene?”

  “The chauffeur.” He ran up the stairs, whistling, while taking two steps at a time. The chef entered the dining room, placed a plate containing French toast and fruit in front of her, then brought her a glass of juice and a cup of coffee. He was an older man with gray hair and a potbelly, but very well dressed.

  “Thank you,” she said. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Fred.” His face turned confused. “You know, no one ever asks me my name in this house.”

  “They don’t? Would you like to join me for breakfast?”

  He smiled. “I’ve already eaten, but thank you.”

  “Where are y’all from?”

  “Maryland. I came up here seeking my fortune on Broadway, but it never happened.”

  She was surprised that someone like him would be cooking for a tennis pro. “You’re an actor?”

  “Sure,” he said, grinning. “I loved doing Shakespeare.”

  “Were you ever in any plays?”

  He sighed. “Oh, just one, but it was so far off Broadway, it might as well have been in the East River.”

  She laughed and took a bite. “I’m sure it was a good play.”

  “It was okay. So are you going to marry John?”

  She lifted her eyes to face him. “No. The newspapers lie.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. I see the way you stare at him.”

  “Me? Stare?” She didn’t do anything to lead him on, she thought.

  “I’ve seen you out the kitchen window when you’re drawing. It’s not just for art’s sake, either.” He turned with a smile. “I can tell the lady’s in love.” He danced back into the kitchen.

  She started to laugh and within minutes, John walked down the stairs, kissed her cheek and sat at the end of the table. “Is it good?”

  “Yep. Fred’s a great chef.”

  “How do you know his name?”

  “He told me,” she said, then faced him. �
�Do you think I stare at you like I’m in love with you?”

  “Yep.” He took his napkin and put it on his lap. “And I’m not the only one who’s noticed, either.”

  “Who else?”

  “The entire wedding party. Except, of course, for Brandi.”

  “Brandi?”

  “The hair-pulling lady.”

  She took a bite and her face turned puzzled. “How do you know her name?”

  “I had the bodyguards investigate her. She’d been marked as a stalker since about three months ago, and they’re ready to put a restraining order out on her.”

  Melody felt her mouth drop open in surprise. “Holy smokes. I don’t think she’s dangerous, do you?”

  “You never know.”

  Fred brought John his breakfast, then winked at Melody. She smiled and lowered her eyes to her plate. He was a nice man, and she appreciated anyone who was nice, after having to deal with Ted.

  As they finished breakfast, a man, who was about the age of John’s father, entered the house.

  “Eugene, I’m glad you’re here,” John said. “We’re ready to go.”

  “Yes, sir,” he replied. “Are you staying overnight?”

  “No, we’ll be back before the wedding.” John glanced over at Melody and stood up, joining Eugene. “What time is that thing, anyway?”

  “Seven,” she said, turning toward him. “But I should be there early, probably about five-thirty.”

  He glanced at his watch. “Plenty of time.” He walked over to the stairs. “Dennis! We’re ready to go.”

  She heard someone running down the stairs. “Yes, John. I was showing the new guy, uh, girl the ropes.”

  “Girl?” Melody asked, standing up and walking toward John.

  Dennis walked down the stairs, followed by a young woman with muscles upon muscles, even though she was tiny. “Yes, girl,” she said, facing Melody. “My name’s Dawn. I’ve been assigned because of you, so don’t mess up or I’m out of a job.”

  “Oh, attitude,” Melody said, crossing her arms. “I don’t think I like that.”

  John smiled and put his arm over Melody’s shoulders. “Let’s go.”

  She stepped away from him and lifted a plate. “No, I have to take the plates out to the kitchen first.”

  “No, it’s Fred’s job. Otherwise, he won’t have anything to do today.”

 

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