CardsNeverLie

by Heather Hiestand

  Rob took a deep breath. He had to be persuasive. Spreading out his hands to indicate he hid nothing, he said, “We have the product ideas now, but we still need customers. You’re advertising for us when you go out looking so well. And of course we’ll get to the details.”

  Melanie pursed her lips. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’d better not be promoting me to company model.”

  “Think of all the men who will hit on you! You can give them business cards!”

  Melanie threw up her hands in mock horror. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation! Are you trying to pimp me or what?”

  “No.” Rob put his hand lightly on her arm and caressed the silky purple fabric. “You know I’d rather keep you all to myself. And besides,” he said, feeling emotion thickening his voice, “I can’t help it. No time we’re together is ever going to be simply about our work.”

  “And what do your feelings have to do with my promotion?” Melanie asked slowly.

  “Nothing.” He smiled. “Absolutely nothing. My grandfather made a brilliant suggestion with no input from me. I agreed and am now implementing that suggestion.”

  Hopefully no one at the company would think otherwise. “And no one is going to think my sudden rise to power has anything to do with our relationship?”

  Rob slid his hand up to her shoulder. “First, I’m thrilled to hear you say we have a relationship. Second, in the end, it’s the quality of work that counts. No one is going to care what we do as long as we keep their jobs secure.”

  “Maybe,” Melanie said, tapping her foot. “I’m starving, Rob. I didn’t have anything to eat today. Can we go now?”

  Rob held out his arm and after hesitating for a moment, she took it. Feeling how tentative her grip was, he didn’t push it and wrap his arm around her. While they walked down the hall, he had a blissful fantasy of them wrapped in each other’s arms under his sheets only a couple of hours from now. Luckily, no one walked by and saw the silly grin on his face.

  At Masala, they ate spicy food in dim light while tantalizing Indian music played. Rob watched dreamily while Melanie recounted her many ideas for reinventing LeatherWorks. He finally had to hold out his hand.

  “Melanie, you’re going to give yourself a heart attack. Calm down!”

  Melanie bounced in her chair. “It’s just so nice to be believed in again!”

  Rob glared at two Indian men dining together who had been checking Melanie out. They looked away as he remembered he had encouraged Melanie to wear the sexy outfit that brought their eyes to her. “I believe in you, Melanie. Thoroughly.”

  “So?” She looked at him expectantly.

  Rob toyed with his chicken vindaloo. What did she want—a compliment? “So what?”

  “What am I being promoted to?”

  Oh that. How could he think business in this heady environment, the air filled with aromatic spices and with an intoxicating woman seated across from him at the table? “Design Director,” Rob said, pulling a title out of thin air. “As we grow, we’ll have to hire more staff, so you’ll eventually have direct reports.”

  “Good,” Melanie said, drawing the last of the garlic naan through mint sauce. “That basically gives me my old job back.”

  “You were only a manager before,” he reminded her, but felt pleased by her ambition.

  Melanie tilted her head. “That’s true.” She swallowed the last of the aromatic bread and licked her fingers. Rob watched the movements of her lips, mesmerized. There was no poetry to express how much she meant to him.

  Any thought of her bestowing herself upon anyone else horrified him. He didn’t want to her so much as look at another man. He had to make his feelings clear now. “Tell me, any thoughts about making this a personal relationship as well as a professional one?”

  “What do you mean?” Melanie fixed his eyes with her baby blues.

  He tried to clarify. Women always wanted details. “I mean us, forming a partnership.”

  “Like marriage?” she said blandly.

  Rob couldn’t gauge her interest in reentering that institution but felt himself breaking into a cold sweat at that solemn word. “Sure. Someday I’m going to own a big chunk of LeatherWorks. Think of how motivated you would be as a part owner.”

  Melanie raised her eyebrows until her smooth forehead wrinkled. “That’s what you call a proposal?”

  “Well,” Rob cleared his throat, feeling panicked. Even his palms felt damp now and his heart pounded in his chest. He took a deep breath. “I’m not prepared. I don’t have a ring with me, but yeah. We could be partners. We should be. We’re good together. And I can’t take my eyes off you. I think of you constantly.”

  Melanie dropped her fork onto her plate with a clang. “I don’t think that’s love. You’re expressing a lovely mix of pragmatism and lust.”

  Didn’t she love him back? She wasn’t even trying to meet him halfway. “Men aren’t good at expressing themselves!”

  “Men are supposed to prepare for such an important moment,” Melanie shot back and placed her napkin on her plate too. Her eyes looked misty and her beautiful mouth was compressed into a pale line.

  Rob knew he had screwed up.

  The waiter popped out of nowhere to hand them their check. Melanie jerked back as he brushed her arm.

  Rob tightened his own lips and pulled out some cash, then stood and motioned for her to leave, waving off the waiter’s offer to box up their leftovers. This had gone all wrong. Badly wrong. Terminally wrong? What could he say to make things better? What magic phrase was she looking for?

  He opened the car door for Melanie as they went outside. A cool breeze came down Northgate Way as he rolled down his window. He felt like sticking his head out like a dog to get some fresh air. But stubbornly, he kept his eyes off Melanie and drove right to his house.

  “Where are we going?” she snapped.

  “We should talk,” Rob said, continuing in the path he’d set. He had to get her alone tonight or all was lost. He couldn’t drop her off at her place, all steamed up at him. She might quit or something. Thank God her mortgage woes ought to keep her there no matter how annoyed she might get at him.

  “Rob, this isn’t amusing.”

  “Please, Melanie.” Rob said. Didn’t she see how much he cared?

  She must have seen the longing in his eyes because she stopped talking after that and quietly followed him up the walkway to his door. He walked straight through the house and out to his rectangular lap pool. In the protected backyard, hidden from view by a tall fence, all was quiet and serene, covered by a blanket of stars.

  “Have a seat.” He gestured to one of the lounge chairs that were still out to soak up the last days of sun before the real Seattle returned, overcast and rainy. Now, under the romantic heavens, it was time for a rational conversation.

  Melanie sat, her hands rigid on the armrests of the mission-style deck chair. “Rob,” she said, only twisting her head toward him, the rest of her body stubbornly facing the pool. “I believe you care about me, I really do.”

  “Good,” Rob took her unresponsive hand in his. He tried to project his warm feelings for her into her cool touch. He had to say the words. “I’ve never felt like this before. I really want to get engaged.”

  Melanie didn’t drop his hand, but she didn’t warm to him, or smile or flirt or anything that would indicate she wanted him. “Would you be proposing so soon if it wasn’t for LeatherWorks?”

  “What do you mean?” It was kind of a stupid question.

  “How much of this quick proposal is about the company and keeping me around? I don’t want to have a job because I’m married, or to have to quit a job for the same reason. You’re treading on some scary areas for me.”

  “LeatherWorks has always been my life.” Would stating the obvious help?

  “It isn’t mine.” Melanie said. “What’s going to come first?”

  “A lot of people depend on me,” Rob reminded her. What did she want?
Some loser who bummed around the house all day waiting for his woman to bring home the bacon? “And I’ve got a lot of new responsibilities.”

  “Wrong answer,” Melanie said, pulling her hand from his grip. “I won’t be in another relationship where I don’t come first. It’s that simple.”

  “But I love you,” he whispered and cupped his hands around her face.

  She let him kiss her, at least she gave him that. But the kiss felt bittersweet.

  “What do you want from me?” he asked against her lips.

  She shook her head, her face moving softly like cream against his. “Everything, I guess.”

  “Then let me give it to you.” He put his arm under her knees and lifted her up, then took her back into the house.

  Their lovemaking deeply moved him. Their touches were slow and sweet, everything they were supposed to be when the woman was truly right. But in the morning, when Rob woke, Melanie was already missing from his bed.

  “Hey,” he said, following her into the bathroom, “you didn’t even kiss me good morning.”

  Melanie lifted her damp face up from the sink. She wore his black bathrobe, which had been hanging on the hook behind the door. Facing the mirror, expressionless, she said, “You have to get to work. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  A lame excuse if he’d ever heard one. To cover his hurt, Rob grabbed a glass and shoved it under the tap for some water. “I appreciate your concern for my schedule, but one kiss won’t break me.”

  Her eyes seemed calculating to him. “You called me irresistible last night. Would one kiss have really been enough?”

  He drank some water and handed her the glass. She set it down without drinking. The night before she’d have turned it to make sure her lips drank from the same place as his. “That’s evening talk, Melanie. I’m just looking for some recognition here that I’m the man in your life.”

  Melanie laughed, a feeble, rusty sound. “There’s no doubt about that.”

  He’d learned something, she wasn’t a morning person. Giving her a disgusted look, he went downstairs for coffee, assuming she’d join him after she’d dressed.

  The next thing he heard was the front door closing.

  Jogging to the window, he saw Melanie getting into Brisa’s car. She hadn’t even said goodbye, but she’d apparently found time to make a call to ensure her escape. And instead of chasing after her like a man should, he had to get to a full day of meetings with wholesalers that couldn’t possibly be canceled. Didn’t she realize they had a revolution on their hands? He had to focus, but if she met him halfway, working would be fun. They would be building for the future.

  He ran his hand over his whisker-roughened face. How could he feel like he was a one-night stand when the woman he’d been with was Melanie? Watching the car drive away, he suddenly realized what the problem was. She didn’t care about LeatherWorks. She wasn’t vested in it. To prove his love, he would have to sacrifice everything for her, the way she had for her first husband. The problem of her distant attitude toward him had just been solved.

  He leaned his forehead against the window and ran his hands through his hair. Could he do it? Could he walk away from a multi-generation family business if he found another buyer? The timing was right. A sale would give him more time with the two people who mattered most to him, as it cost him the family he had grown to depend on. But in doing so, he would prove to Melanie for once and for all that she meant more to him than any job, than anyone. And the sale would provide plenty of money. He could take care of her, even if she lost her job in the sale.

  If he did this, he’d be lost. As the thought crossed his mind, Rob thought of Melanie’s rare smile and knew it would be okay as long as she stayed a part of his life. He wanted to see that smile someday on the face of their daughters.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Will you please take the call, Rob?” Tim said impatiently from his desk, the phone tucked into his ear as two hold buttons flashed. “Dick Porter has called five times so far today.”

  “So what?” Rob snarled. Tim flushed. “Sorry. I just have a hard time caring what Professional Massage wants these days.”

  “You never cared,” Tim corrected. “Only your grandfather did.”

  “And Jack.” Rob felt a headache coming on from the mere mention of his former friend’s name.

  “CEOs don’t make phone calls like this unless it’s important, boss. I’m not trying to tell you what to do, it’s just that I want you to know how important I think it is.”

  Despite the spiked dog collar accessory, Rob did take Tim seriously, so he nodded. “The next time he calls, tell him I’ll call him back at six o’clock tonight.”

  “Why so late?” Tim looked at his black rubber watch. “It’s only three-thirty and you just finished your last meeting.”

  Rob grinned maliciously. “It’s a power play, my man. Pure and simple.”

  A couple of hours later, Rob shut down his email. Forcing himself to stay late hadn’t helped him catch up with his workload. All that had been on his mind was Melanie. Of course, she was off fooling around somewhere and not even thinking about him.

  He thought back through last night. Had their lovemaking been good? Had she liked it? Had she come or was she faking? Nah, he decided, she had at least enjoyed herself. He hoped the emotion he had felt in their intimacy was real. Had his demonstration of love been good enough?

  He remembered her blonde hair spread over his pillow afterward, except the pieces glued to her face by their intermingled sweat. He had touched his fingers to her temple to brush them away and she had held his hand against her face, not talking, only touching. He could feel the fast pulse of her wrist slow under his fingers as she drifted into sleep. He had cuddled against her, smelled the sex and the coconut shampoo in her hair and found true bliss.

  No, she hadn’t left because of the sex. Her problem was LeatherWorks.

  This final stroke would prove how she really felt about their relationship. It would have to be good enough because it was the last thing he could do to win her.

  He picked up the earpiece of his phone so he could walk and talk and dialed Dick Porter’s number.

  “Porter here.”

  “Rob Black.”

  “I am so glad you called!” Rob was surprised by Porter’s friendly tone. He had been condescending in the past.

  “I believe you’ve been trying to reach me,” Rob said.

  “Yes,” Porter said with palpable enthusiasm. “I wanted to let you know we’ve completed our internal investigation here and have cleaned house.”

  “What does that mean to me?”

  “Your grandfather had a few well-chosen words to say to me about the type of company he wanted to do business with. He told me he knew Melanie Vanderpool and he thought we’d made a mistake. And I want to let you know your grandfather was right.”

  “Oh?” Rob shuddered involuntarily. They were going to take her back. Not now, oh please, not now. He needed to keep her close.

  “We’ve fired Tommy Joe Harriman, Al Plowman and Ms. Vanderpool’s former assistant, who were all involved in unethical activities. Ms. Vanderpool’s reputation has been cleared.”

  “I never thought one misstep was deserving of her fate,” Rob said.

  “No. Certainly we prefer to stay in the center of the ethical continuum, but we wouldn’t want to lose an employee as valuable as Ms. Vanderpool. I’ve spoken to her today and offered her job back. She told us she had been promoted to a higher position at LeatherWorks. I must say,” Porter said, clearing his throat, “I hadn’t realized she went to work for you after she left us. But we assured her the promotion would be taken into consideration and when we did business together, she could direct the creative activities of both companies.”

  “Ah.”

  “So there you have it. What is your feeling on reopening the issue of the sale?”

  Rob swallowed. Could he do it? The door opened in front of him. On this side, a comfortabl
e environment filled with friends and interesting work. The other held…Melanie? He paced for a moment until he stood in front of his closet, amazed how this second chance had dropped into his lap. But it was still hard. He unlocked the door and opened it. The bookshelf at the back caught his eye, specifically, a photograph of his mother. He shook his head. If Melanie left they’d be back to sex toys. If he stayed he wouldn’t win Melanie back. There was only one answer he could give.

  “Let’s reopen this issue, Dick.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “I’ll want full disclosure of your books. There are more jobs than Ms. Vanderpool’s at stake.”

  “Of course. That is reasonable.”

  “I’ll speak to my grandfather and we’ll set up a meeting for sometime next week.”

  “Excellent. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”

  “Of course. Have a good weekend.” Rob disconnected as a wave of dizziness crashed over him. He was saying goodbye to his life for a woman.

  For Melanie. Rob smiled.

  * * * * *

  On Monday, Melanie looked up from her worktable at the knock on her door. Annoyed at the distraction, she said, “Come in.”

  Tim stuck his head in. “Do you have time for lunch?”

  Melanie held up a bag of carrots. She wasn’t in the mood to socialize, she just wanted to do her job and go back to her lonely, but now financially secure, home. As it was, she had a hard time holding back the tears for her lost illusions about Rob, but she made a joke to hide them. “I put on a bathing suit this weekend and accidentally glanced at my thighs. This is my lunch.”

  Tim rolled his eyes and pulled out a chair across from her. “Your thighs look fine, Melanie.”

  “How would you know?” Melanie pointed out, nibbling on a carrot. Tim had never seemed to find her attractive. “You haven’t seen my thighs today.”

  “I saw them Thursday. They looked fine on Thursday.”

  She shook her head. His opinion didn’t matter even if he knew what he was talking about. “You didn’t see them Thursday. The purple shift was floor length.”

  Tim threw up his hands. “Rob doesn’t think you have fat thighs.”