“Not as handsome as you. That’s quite a dress.” He gave her an approving eye, tilting her hips to meet his in their embrace.
“You like?” she teased. She was sexy and flirty in the dress she’d claimed she’d bought at a thrift store. It was slinky and black, hugging her newly toned curves and falling to just past her knee. She’d accentuated the dress with silver heels that made her legs look longer than they really were. Her hair fell down her back in tight ringlets she told him Jasmine had taught her to tame with some new hair gel, and she’d used red lipstick instead of her clear gloss just for tonight.
“I definitely like. I say we talk about how much I like at my apartment after dinner—what say you?”
Mel shivered against him. “I say let’s get dinner over with. Don’t linger. Ixnay on the appetizers.”
Drew pulled the etched-glass door open with a chuckle. “Not a stuffed mushroom shall pass these lips. After you.”
The maître d’ greeted them with a dramatic bow. “How can I help you?”
Mel smiled into the dimly lit interior of the pricey steakhouse when Drew placed a hand on her hip. “We’re meeting Jackie Bellows.”
The maître d’ turned sharply on his heel. “Right this way.”
“This is pretty fancy for some steak,” Drew muttered behind her.
Mel waved a dismissive hand. “That’s Jackie for you. She always says Frank has money for a reason. The reason being her. She once told him, if she can find a way, she’ll spend his money in the afterlife. Jackie makes no bones about the fact that she’s rich, it was one of the first things I liked about her. She has no pretense.”
Right. Jackie was her rich friend from L.A. He tried to remember all the information Mel had given him in a rush on the phone when she’d asked if they could swap their date at the diner for Jackie’s surprise visit dinner.
“So who’s she married to again?”
“Frank Bellows. Big Hollywood producer. More money than Onassis. But none of that matters. Jackie’s one of my best friends and she wants to meet you.” Mel paused halfway to the table and whispered, “Gird your loins.”
Jackie jumped up when she saw them, giving Mel a hug. Her blond hair was platinum; her skin lightly tanned with a healthy California glow. She wore an abundance of rings on the fingers that squeezed Mel’s, mostly diamonds. Her red silk blouse and black, slim-fitting skirt screamed money. She elbowed Mel.
“So introduce me to the hunk.”
Mel grinned, slipping her arm through Drew’s. “Hunk, meet Jackie. Jackie, hunk.”
Jackie winked, pulling Drew into a hug, too, patting him on the back. “Wow. When Mel finds a boyfriend, she finds a boyfriend. Nice to meet you, Drew. I’ve heard so many good things about you. Now sit.” She pointed to the red vinyl booth behind a round table with a pristine white tablecloth. “Prove them to me.”
“Drew Hunk McPhee. Good to meet you, and I love a good steak with some pressure on the side,” he joked, allowing Mel to sit and sliding into the booth beside her.
The waiter arrived with their menus, and while Jackie ordered a bottle of wine he knew was expensive, he ordered a beer.
“A beer drinker,” Jackie commented with a grin. “Nothing says man like beer. It says solid and simple.”
“Simple.” The word grated on him. In Sherry’s circles he’d been called simple a time or two. He buried his face in the menu, wincing at the prices while gritting his teeth. Jackie appeared perfectly nice.
There was no reason to cast his aspersions of the rich and privileged on her before she’d proven otherwise.
“So what do you do for a living, Drew? Mel said something about you two working together.”
He had no shame about what he did. It was honest, hard work.
“I’m the on-site handyman, for lack of a better word, at Westmeyer where Mel teaches.”
Jackie pinned him with hawklike eyes. Her spiky hair bobbed when she nodded her head. “Like I said. Solid. I bet you rock a tool belt. And a little birdie told me, you don’t like to dance? How can this be when that’s what my Mel’s all about?”
“I like to watch Mel, if that’s any consolation.”
Jackie patted him on the arm from across the table. “Good answer. So you have a son?”
Drew smiled, relaxing a little. Nate was easy to talk about. “Nate. He’s twelve.”
Jackie rolled her eyes and cackled. “Christ. You don’t know how you lucked out. I have three damned girls and every one of them pushing those teen years. Only one reasonable boy in the lot and he’s in college now, so far gone, I’ve forgotten how little pain he inflicted. Do you have any idea what you’ve escaped by having a boy?”
Drew laughed, pulling Mel’s hand into his to run circles along her wrist with his thumb. “I’ve heard the horror stories from my sisters.”
“Oh, they have lobster!” Mel blurted, then covered her mouth, giving them both a look of shame. “Sorry, but do you have any idea how long it’s been since I had lobster? Thank God for rich BFFs,” she crowed. Clearly, Jackie’s money wasn’t a forbidden subject.
“Oh, hush. In no time at all, you’ll be eating lobster every day if you want to.”
Drew’s head popped up from the menu he’d been only absently staring at.
Mel’s did, too. “Right. Teachers can’t afford lobster, Jackie. They can’t even afford to read the word.”
Neither could handymen. He wasn’t poor, but he didn’t have the kind of money Stan had.
Jackie’s face beamed, her high cheekbones sharper when she smiled at Mel. “That’s why I’m here, kiddo. We have some talking to do. But you have to promise to keep it hush-hush. Both of you.”
“I promise to only sell the information if it means college money for Nate. Ivy League’s going to kill me. I think, in all fairness, leaking information is a sin that should automatically get a pass under those circumstances.” he joked.
Jackie nudged Mel. “I like the hunk. He has a great sense of ha-ha. Anyway, guess who has a new gig?”
Mel feigned surprise. “Shut up. You got a job? Is this a Frank life lesson? Like the time he made Jaynie work to pay off the water bill by weeding all nine million of your gardens because she was taking forty-minute showers?”
“Hah! Good times, right?” Jackie reflected then shook her head.
“No life lessons for me. I have a job. Those damn hellions he impregnated me with. It’s work.”
Drew wondered how much work it could be with nannies and maids.
“I don’t know how you do it without help,” Mel said.
Jerk. You’re a total shit, McPhee.
“Millions of women do it without help, and I do have a live-in. No way I could attend all those charity events and parties if Melda didn’t help clean the toilets for me, but I’m grateful for her, and she knows it. She has a weekend house in the valley bought and paid for because I love her so much. But what I’m really grateful for is that Frank’s rich enough to allow me biweekly visits to a therapist. Jesus knows I need one with three girls left to raise.”
“So who got a new gig?” Mel asked, her eyes bright with interest.
Jackie leaned into her like she had a secret. “Frank.”
“Ah, another blockbuster movie?”
“Nope, TV, believe it or not.”
Mel gasped, nibbling on a piece of bread. “Frank’s stooping to TV? I thought that was all beneath the big honchos who made box-office smash hit movies?”
“Not when it’s the kind of cash cow Celebrity Ballroom is.”
Mel squealed her delight. “The Celebrity Ballroom? You’re kidding me?”
“Would I kid you? That’s part of the reason I’m here.”
Mel groaned. “If you tell me this was a trip designed as a heads-up because Stan’s remotely involved in this, the minute I have two extra pennies to rub together, I’m coming to L. A. and kicking Frank’s sorry ass. Friendship is null and void.”
“Oh, no, my pretty ballroom dancer. This tr
ip has to do with you.”
Drew watched Mel’s face grow confused. She sipped her wine.
“Me?”
Jackie’s smile was sly. “Yeah—they need a new judge. Linda’s contract’s up, and she’s never been very popular with the audience, so when her contract negotiations came up, they canned her.”
Mel frowned. “But how does that involve me? I’m no Linda Little.”
“Was Linda Little Linda Little before Celebrity Ballroom? No one knew who she was except those of you on the dance circuit. She was just an ex-champ. But now they need another expert in Latin—someone just like you, toots.”
Mel’s eyes shone with excitement. “I don’t get why anyone would even mention me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t think Frank’s got your back? He threw your name in the ring, honey.”
“Seriously?”
“Oh, I’m very serious. You could be the next judge on Celebrity Ballroom.”
Well, then. Hear-hear to lobster every night.
Chapter 15
Dear Divorce Journal,
I really thought I was over the bitter where Stan’s concerned. So I’ll simply ponder this. Does it make me a spiteful bitch if I’m offered and take the job on Celebrity Ballroom just so I can gain access to the studio where Stan tapes Dude, You Can Dance and use it as a means for hunting his ass down and killing him while Yelena’s screams of terror ring in my ears? I know that sounds awful at this stage of the game—because I’m doing all of that finding myself, and I really like what I’ve found, but there’s still a small piece of me that wants to see his testicles ground to sand.
I think I still have some work to do.
“So Frank mentioned me? Oh, Jackie—I’ve always loved Frank, but after that kind of a recommendation for an unknown, I owe him at least one healthy male child.”
Jackie’s rings sparkled in the low light of the wall sconce when she shook her finger at Mel. “You can only sleep with my husband if it means you take the rest of the kids with you as part of the package. No way are you bagging me with your love child while you flit from party to party in Versace.”
Mel’s chuckle filled Drew’s ears, happier and lighter than he’d heard it since they met.
“Tell the hunk we’re just joking,” Jackie directed. “He looks positively green.”
Mel turned to Drew, her beautiful face full of mischief. “We’re just joking. No healthy male child. But I’d definitely sleep with him. Frank’s hot.”
Now both women laughed, leaving Drew to wrestle with the illogical, totally irrational anger filling his gut at Mel sleeping with this Frank. A man who was clearly happily married to this woman Drew couldn’t help but like, rich or not.
“So tell me what you know,” Mel prodded.
“I just know Frank was clear he wanted you. Not to mention, this would be incredible publicity for Celebrity Ballroom, seeing Stanislov Cherkasov’s ex-wife on an opposing network. Never forget, my husband’s a shark, honey. This isn’t totally altruistic, and you can always count on me to be honest with you about his motives. He was honest with me when he sent me here to ask you. The ratings would go through the roof and you’d never have to say word one about Stan. It’s like a subtle smack down. Something that schmuck deserves.”
Drew waited to see if Mel harbored the wish to make Stan pay, but if she was still holding a grudge, she was doing a fine job of hiding it.
“Well, that’s just Hollywood,” Mel replied easily. “It makes sense that Frank would make a decision based on ratings. Ratings I get. For the last year of our marriage, that was all Stan talked about. I don’t begrudge Frank that.”
“It’s one of the reasons he is where he is. I love where he is. It means I could eat like this every night if it weren’t for my spawn wanting all that nurturing I read about in books. Now, food’s here. No more business, let’s eat. I’m starving.” Jackie dug into her steak with passion, laughing and chatting with Mel while Drew listened attentively and participated when requested.
When the evening drew to a close, he was the first to jump up and usher the ladies out into the parking lot, opening Jackie’s car door for her. “You”—she pointed at Drew—”I like. You know when to talk and when to just let us run our big mouths uninterrupted. That’s a skill, Mr. McPhee, a skill finely honed. You must have been married for at least five years, right?”
Drew bit the inside of his cheek and forced another smile. “I was.”
“It shows,” Jackie said with a smile. “So you be good to my Mel—got it? I’m a tough old bitch. I’ll kick your ass if you even think about breaking my girl’s heart here.”
He tucked Mel to his side. “I’ll remember that with the appropriate fear in my heart,” Drew joked.
Jackie’s mouth opened in raucous laughter. “Oh, my God, I like you. Okay, kids, I’m out. I fly back early in the morning because my horrible children need love and someone has some kind of recital—or something that involved me making a costume with duct-tape and a glue gun. Mel? I love you. I’ll call you the second Frank has more details. Now gimme a hug and don’t get all whiny with the goodbyes. I hate crying.”
Mel gave Jackie a hard squeeze. “I miss you so much, and now that you see Jersey isn’t so bad, you’ll come back, right?”
“Hah! Not before I get you back to L. A. Love to your dad. Bye, guys.” She got into her car after one last hug and drove away.
Mel wiped a tear from her eyes as she stared down at her feet.
“Just give me a sec to get the sissy out of my system.”
Drew pulled her into his embrace, inhaling the scent of her raspberry shampoo. “Don’t make a mess of this suit with all that mascara. It’s the only one I’ve got,” he teased.
She sniffled. “I didn’t realize how much I missed her until just this second.”
“She’s quite a character.”
“She’s one of the best friends I’ve ever had.” Pulling away, she looked up at him. “She liked you. That says something.”
“Really? What does that say?”
“That she won’t hire someone to pick you off with all her lovely money.”
Drew chuckled. “Sooo…” he whispered against her ear.
Mel put her arms around his neck, tilting her head up. “Yesssss?”
“We’re still on for my apartment?”
“Where’s Nate?”
He loved that she was always concerned about his son. “At my mother’s. It’s Friday night, which means movies and ice cream. So we’re good?”
She gave him a coy glance. “Only if dessert’s involved.”
“Oh, I got your dessert,” he murmured against her lips.
She pressed a tender kiss against his lips. “Then what’s the hold up, slowpoke?”
He pulled her to his truck, helping her in. When the light from the dome in the ceiling illuminated her as she tucked her legs inside, Drew had to grip the door.
Her hair fell down her back in silky ringlets of dark chocolate, framing her heart-shaped face with a seductive curtain he wanted to bury his hands in. But it was her eyes that made his breath still for the briefest of seconds.
They were as dark as her hair, smoldering black with just a glint of amber in them, and he realized, he recognized that look.
It was the one he thought was reserved only for when she danced.
He’d seen it on more than one occasion while he watched her practice with the boys at school like some lovesick fool.
As his breath left his lungs—he knew.
Now he had to make sure she knew, too.
* * * *
Mel’s heart thumped in her chest with an uneven rhythm while Drew lit candles and put a disc in the CD player. Suddenly, she was nervous. Their last romp had been unexpected. She hadn’t had time to worry about what she looked like naked. Even after almost six weeks of Neil’s grueling workout regimen, she still had lumps.
Lumps she’d probably rather weren’t highlighted by his Glade scented
candles.
Mel clenched her cold hands together in nervous anticipation when Drew loosened his tie and took off his jacket to hang it in the small closet by his front door.
It gave her a moment to reassess his apartment, which was sparse in terms of furniture and any kind of decoration. Well, except for the picture of the waterfall.
Drew reached behind it and turned something on. “See? It’s just like real water, so sayeth Myriam. She told me I didn’t have enough atmosphere in the apartment for Nate—so she bought this for us when she was in Atlantic City.”
Mel watched the waterfall seemingly flow with real water, her mouth open in fascination. “It’s as riveting as a velvet Elvis painting. I can’t tear my eyes away.”
Drew approached her from behind. “Let me help you with that,” he whispered against her ear, wreaking havoc with her belly. Drew ran his hands over her hips, drawing her back to lean completely against him.
His muscled frame against hers, pressing into her flesh through her thin dress was intoxicating. They swayed for a bit, moving to the soft music on the CD player.
Mel’s eyes closed when a familiar tune came on, and she whispered, “Is that Tony Bennett?”
Drew’s lips slid over the sensitive skin of her neck. “It is.”
“I’d have never figured you for that type of guy.”
“Then you still have much to learn, grasshopper. I was raised on Bennett and Sinatra right alongside Tito Puente, to name a few.” He turned her in his arms, molding her to him, smoothing his hands over her waist.
“I have a confession.”
“Well, I know you’re not a man. What’s left?”
“Funny. I’m being serious here.”
“Confess,” he prompted, gliding his tongue over her lips.
“I’m petrified.”
He pulled his lips from hers, giving her a concerned glance. “Of?”
“Being naked.”
“That must make it hard to shower.”
“Again, being serious.”
He chuckled low and gritty. “Sorry. Being very serious, I can assure you, you have nothing to be petrified about.”
“Oh, please. You didn’t see me totally naked. It was dark the last time. Now we have all these stupid candles.”
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