No one sent her flowers. The people she knew might bring them to her personally, colorful things they’d picked from their garden and arranged in a homemade bouquet. No one thought to use a florist.
She wondered if it was a mistake. “That’s me.” She eyed the box. “Who are they from?”
“It’s on the card,” he told her wearily. “Sign here, please.” He shoved the clipboard into her hand, tapping the first space. When she finished, he traded her the box for his clipboard. “Have-a-nice-day.” The words dripped from his mouth mechanically as he walked out again.
“Open it, open it,” Joy urged. When Melanie didn’t move quickly enough to satisfy her, Joy eased the other end off for her. “Oh, wow. Look at them.”
“I am,” Melanie murmured. Half a dozen longstemmed yellow roses sat nestled in green tissue paper. They looked so beautiful, she almost didn’t want to disturb them.
“Well, who’s it from?” If they’d been for Joy, she would have torn into the envelope already. Didn’t Melanie have any curiosity?
Melanie moved the tissue paper around, looking for a card.
“I haven’t the vaguest idea.” She removed one rose from the others and sniffed it. Pleasure embraced her. Whoever had sent them had asked for the scented kind to be delivered. She loved the smell of roses.
Joy took a guess. “Maybe it’s Bradley, apologizing for running out on you last night. Maybe he wants another chance to get together.” She looked at Melanie hopefully. According to Greg, Bradley’s income was in the-six-figure range. It would have been nice for Melanie if a little of that was spread around here. “If he talked to Greg, he knows you don’t have a boyfriend.”
This was one of those few times she didn’t mind raining on Joy’s parade. Not when she was the drum majorette. “If he knows that, then he knows I made the whole thing up. And, if he’s as smart as he kept telling me he was, I think he’s figured out why I made the whole thing up.” Finding the card, she took it out and read it: “‘I’m sorry I yelled at you last night. Lance.”’ She tucked the note into her skirt pocket, curling her hand around it.
Joy’s mouth dropped open. “He yelled at you?”
A small detail she hadn’t mentioned. Melanie dismissed it now with a wave of her hand. “Things got a little emotional.”
Joy looked at the roses again. Maybe this fire breather wasn’t such a bad guy after all. “Obviously.” She spread the paper back on either side of the box. The next move was Melanie’s. She raised her eyes up to her friend. “So, what are you going to do?”
Melanie picked up the box and carried it to her office. “First, I’m going to put the roses in water, and then I’m going to thank him for his flowers.” Her eyes met Joy’s. “In person.”
“Sure you know what you’re doing?”
Melanie set the box down on her desk. There was a vase around here somewhere, she thought. All she had to do was remember where. “I’m sure.”
“That man isn’t going to know what hit him.”
“Yeah, he will.” Melanie smiled at the photograph she had on her desk. Her aunt smiled back at her. Aunt Elaine, she knew, would have understood what was going on perfectly. “If I do it right.”
Chapter Seven
She knew she was taking a chance hoping to find Lance in. Given the nature of his work, he could be out anywhere. The sensible thing would have been to call ahead. But if she did that, he would have made a point of not being around.
It made her smile to realize she was beginning to understand the way he operated.
So she took the chance. Maybe she’d be lucky.
The key to getting to someone like Lance, Melanie thought as she parked her car in the rear lot behind the fire station, was the element of surprise. That way, she might just be able to wiggle in and get close to him before he knew what was going on. Before the protective shields he kept around him had a chance to go down and lock into place.
At least it was worth a shot.
She tugged her hem down into place as she got out of the car and closed the door. The display did not go unnoticed. One of the firefighters broke away from the group gathered near the entrance and crossed over to her just as she walked in.
She recognized him as the man who’d given her Kelly’s new address. Wide shouldered and about six foot four inches, Ed Thompson moved with more grace than she’d have thought possible for someone so big.
“Hi.” He flashed her a wide grin. “Heard from Kelly yet?”
She found his smile infectious and wondered if he and Lance ever got together. Lance could stand a little of that easygoing manner rubbing off on him, she mused.
Melanie nodded in reply. “Just a few lines.” She’d gotten the note yesterday, surprised that Kelly had responded so quickly. She’d sent him a parting gift. A vase used on the set of one of the MGM musicals in the fifties that he’d admired every time he’d come by the shop. “He’s having a great time fishing. His wife isn’t as thrilled as he is, but John figures she’ll come around to his way of thinking.”
Thompson laughed, the sound rich and deep. “Same old Kelly.” He made an educated guess why she was here. “Looking for Reed?”
When she nodded, he could only marvel. The contrast between the two was like comparing the light and dark side of the moon. How did a guy like that merit a woman like her?
“Thought so. You’re in luck. He’s in. Popular guy this morning,” he commented. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some chili to make hot.” Winking, he backed away, going down the long hallway to the station’s kitchen.
Was Thompson just being cryptic or was there someone in Lance’s office with him? She knew Lance wouldn’t appreciate her popping in like this if he was talking to someone but it couldn’t be helped. Besides, if he really didn’t want to see her, he wouldn’t have sent the roses. He would have just let it end without any further communication—other than maybe another citation, she thought.
Turning the corner, she made her way to his office. It was the last door before the rear exit. Perfect choice for him, she thought. It gave him the opportunity to come and go without being noticed.
There was someone in his office, Melanie realized, looking through the glass door. Sitting in front of his desk, the woman’s back was to the door. Struck by the carefully styled, soft, gray hair, it took Melanie a moment to notice the cane leaning against the arm of her chair.
For the space of a heartbeat, Melanie debated quietly retreating. But she hadn’t come this far, egging herself on, just to fade away without a word. Besides, the next time she might not be so lucky. The next time she came by, he might not be in.
Making up her mind, she rapped once. Without waiting for a response or an invitation that might not be forthcoming, she opened the door. “Hi, I don’t mean to interrupt.”
Lance looked up sharply at the sound of her voice. For a second he thought he was imagining her. The way he’d imagined her all through breakfast this morning, and all through his sleepless night the night before. She’d been preying on his mind ever since he’d kissed her. He cursed himself and her for it more than once in the past twelve hours.
It was only because he’d felt guilty about losing his cool and his control that his mind kept returning to her. That was the bill of goods he’d tried to sell himself, but as of yet, he still wasn’t buying into the excuse a hundred percent. For that he needed time and distance. If having her show up here was any indication, she wasn’t about to give him either.
Didn’t mean to interrupt, he thought, silently mocking her apology. The hell she didn’t. She enjoyed setting his world on its ear.
“Yeah, you did.” The sigh that escaped his lips sounded almost resigned, and that worried him. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have knocked. You would have turned around and gone home when you saw I was busy.”
The woman in the chair had turned around as soon as Melanie spoke. Recognition on Melanie’s part was instantaneous. It was the woman in the photograph on his desk.
Bess gave her nephew a fleeting frown. “Lance, that’s no way to speak to a lady.” The reprimand was tempered with humor. There was unabashed interest in the gray eyes as they swept over Melanie, taking measure of the young woman who seemed to be so familiar with Lance.
“That’s all right,” Melanie told her as, to Lance’s mounting dismay, she walked in, “he sends roses when he’s been rude.” Her face seemed to bloom with pleasure as her eyes met his. “And I love roses.”
The information that Lance had sent someone roses was immediately digested. There was no small show of mystification and delight on the round, genial face as Bess turned toward Lance.
“You sent her roses?”
Lance shifted uncomfortably. She was going to make a big deal out of this. “I—”
He got no further, not that he knew what he was going to say if he had been allowed to speak. Other than the fact that sending roses to a woman shouldn’t be a cause for rampant speculation as to motive and intent. What it was, was a mistake. He’d known it was a mistake the minute he’d hung up the phone after placing the order.
A moment of weakness was to blame. He’d done something wrong, and he’d wanted to make amends. Flowers were all he could think of. He knew how much Bess loved them. All women, he’d once been told, loved getting flowers. It seemed harmless enough at the time, and he had treated McCloud badly, and not just because he’d shouted into her face.
So he’d apologized by sending her flowers and inadvertently, he knew now, placed them on his own grave, as well.
Melanie felt the bond between her and Bess forming immediately. She warmed to her, almost from the moment she saw her. There was something in her eyes, in her smile, that reminded Melanie of Aunt Elaine.
“He did. The most beautiful yellow roses I’ve ever seen.” Melanie raised her eyes to his face. “No one’s ever sent me roses before.”
Bess didn’t bother hiding her surprise. “I find that difficult to believe. A lovely young lady like you?” She cast a side glance at her nephew. Good for you, she silently applauded.
Lance had no idea how to begin untangling the knot he watched forming in front of him.
If Melanie had learned nothing else during her unorthodox childhood, it was how to take a compliment graciously. She inclined her head. “Thank you, Aunt Bess. He obviously doesn’t get his manners from you.”
So, he’d talked about her to this woman, had he? Bess’s pleasure continued to increase. “You know who I am?”
In reply, Melanie crossed to Lance’s desk and turned the photograph around for Bess to look at. “He showed me this the first time I was here.”
Lance knew that pointing out that it was the only time she’d been here and that he hadn’t shown her the photograph, she had taken it and asked, was only going to fall on deaf ears. For some reason he couldn’t fathom, it pleased Bess to think that there was something going on between him and the energetic blonde.
One look at her eyes told him he was right. Bess looked as if she was barely suppressing her delight. “No wonder you haven’t had time to stop by lately.”
He had to set her straight now, before things became any more confused. “It’s not like that, Bess,” he protested with feeling. He groped for the right words. “She’s just, just—”
“Very happy to meet you,” Melanie concluded. Leaning over her, Melanie took Bess’s hand and shook it. “I’m Melanie McCloud.”
Bess and Elaine would have gotten on famously, Melanie thought. She could tell just by looking at the woman. She felt a pang, wishing her aunt could have met Bess.
“Lance tells me your favorite movie is Next Year, Paris.”
The amount of surprise ricocheting through Bess could have been measured on the Richter scale. Lance had always been closemouthed, even as a boy. She’d spent years worrying about him, about his finding someone who was up to the task of bringing out the man Bess knew in her heart still existed beneath the hard exterior the world saw.
Now it looked as if her prayers had been answered. If he’d told Melanie about her, about something so minute and trivial as her favorite movie, then he was finally opening up.
Casting a triumphant look in his direction, Bess said, “He told you that?”
Damn, this was getting worse and worse right in front of his eyes. He had to put a stop to it. Trying to get his aunt’s attention away from Melanie, Lance leaned over his desk and put his hand on her arm.
“Bess, I—”
She waved his hand away. “Hush, Lance, I’m talking to Melanie if you don’t mind. So, what else has my nephew told you?”
Making herself far more comfortable in his office than he had ever managed to, Melanie leaned a hip against the edge of his desk.
“Not very much.” She leaned closer to Bess. “You know how he is.”
Bess’s eyes were soft, warm, as they washed over Lance quickly. A potpourri of memories crowded her head. She loved him dearly, but that didn’t blind her to what he was. “Indeed I do.”
And obviously, so did this young woman who had popped out of nowhere. Bess couldn’t remember when she’d felt so pleased about something. There was a warmth about Melanie that had been conspicuously missing from Lauren. Bess had never felt easy about that match, but had said nothing because Lance had seemed so keen on her, and all Bess had ever wanted was his happiness.
When Lauren had walked out on Lance before he’d even been discharged from the hospital, Bess could have ripped the woman’s heart out with her bare hands. But even if she’d been able to do that, there was nothing she could do to undo the damage Lauren had caused by her callous act.
But maybe there was something Melanie could do.
This one would stay no matter what, Bess thought, quietly regarding her. As long as Lance didn’t do something awful to push her away.
Bess shifted her rather ample frame in the chair and looked at her nephew accusingly. “Lance, why didn’t you tell me about Melanie?”
He threw up his hands in frustration. “Because there’s nothing to tell.”
To his mounting irritation, he saw his aunt and McCloud exchange knowing looks. McCloud shrugged carelessly. The gesture fairly shouted “You know how men are.” He should never have sent those damn flowers.
“Is there any reason you’re here now?” he demanded impatiently.
Her smile was a direct contrast to the expression on his face. “I just came by to thank you for the roses. They arrived this morning just as I opened up the shop.”
Bess latched on to this newest piece of information like a magnet sweeping over scattered iron filings. “You have a shop?”
Melanie nodded proudly. “It’s on Main and Thiel. I sell memorabilia. Props and costumes from old movies, autographs from celebrities, posters, lobby cards. Things like that.”
It was tantamount to telling a child that she worked at the North Pole as first assistant to Santa Claus. Bess’s eyes grew almost as round as Joy’s had this morning. “Really?”
Lance rose to his feet. Enough was enough. He couldn’t continue to just sit here and listen to this anymore. God only knew where the momentum was going to take the two of them. And him. Besides he needed to take an early lunch today.
“C’mon, Bess, I don’t have that long for lunch, and I’ve got a couple of appointments scheduled for this afternoon.” Putting Kelly’s work on hold, Lance was turning his attention back to his own thick file of work. The warehouse fire was looking more and more like the work of an arsonist. He had more important things to worry about than a blonde who kept popping up in his life at inopportune moments.
Lance rounded the desk and took his aunt’s arm, carefully helping her to her feet. He fully intended to put Melanie behind him, both physically and mentally. Just as soon as he aired out the office and got rid of that damned scent she wore.
Bess leaned on Lance’s arm, but her eyes were on Melanie. And her mind was busy making plans. “Would you like to join us for lunch?”
&nbs
p; Oh, no, he wasn’t about to break bread with Melanie twice. Once had had disastrous effects. “I’m sure she has other things to do, Bess.”
The smile on Melanie’s lips dashed his hopes of a clean escape. “No, I don’t.”
“There, you see?” Bess declared triumphantly. She had a good feeling about this, she thought, looking at Melanie. A very good feeling.
Didn’t she have work to do? Some place to be? “What about your shop?” Lance reminded her.
If he meant to chase her away, he was going to have to do better than that, Melanie thought, falling into step beside Bess.
“It’s slow today,” she told him. “Joy can handle it for a while.”
Joy might be able to handle whatever went on at the shop, but Lance had a feeling that he wouldn’t be able to handle what was happening here. Not when there were two women ganging up on him. Especially since one of the women was Bess.
He gave it one last try. “Bess, the reservations are for two.”
Bess had no idea why he was being so stubborn about resisting this. Melanie seemed absolutely perfect to her. “There’s always room for one more. We’re not going to a fancy restaurant, for heaven’s sake. We don’t need reservations. Don’t be rude, Lance,” she chided with a bit more feeling.
Her eyes bright with interest, Bess asked, “So, tell me how you and Lance met.”
“I wrote her up for several fire code violations,” he growled, hoping that put an end to any romantic misconceptions Bess was entertaining, although something told him he should have known better.
Bess looked over her shoulder at her nephew. “Yes, that sounds just like you.”
Rather than let Lance lead her out of the fire station, Bess hooked her arm through Melanie’s, leaning heavily on her cane with her other hand. “So, Melanie, tell me more about this shop of yours....”
The best thing about having Melanie come to lunch with them was that he didn’t have to talk much.
Lance judged that he didn’t have to talk at all if he didn’t want to. The upside of that was that he didn’t have to politely fend off Bess’s questions about what he was doing with his private life and the direction his life wasn’t going in.
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