by Inara Scott
She put her hands on her waist, turned from one side to the other. Then she turned to Estalyn. “I want something silk. Bias cut. Sleeveless, but not spaghetti straps. Maybe a cowl neck.”
Her mother’s friend nodded. “Yes. Something that drapes—you have the perfect figure for it.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully, and then smiled. “I have just the thing.” She hurried off to the other room.
Melissa turned back to her mother. “Now, about Garth.”
Phoebe crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t care if it does hurt your feelings. I’m not going to stand aside and watch while you make another terrible mistake. He isn’t right for you. I have no idea how you ended up with someone so cold and thoughtless. You deserve much, much more.”
Melissa held out her left hand. “See this ring? He picked it for me.” She held out the other hand, with its tiny, winking pea of a diamond. “And this one? He picked this one for me, too. And for Nan. The grandmother he loves. Did you know the man you think is cold and thoughtless would put himself through hell to make his grandmother happy? Did you know he was bullied terribly as a child? Did you know how painful it must have been for him to come to brunch the other day, when he hates socializing with strangers—but he did it for me, because you’re my parents and he knew it was important?”
She took a deep breath, feeling her blood pounding. “Damn it, I love him—do you understand? It may not be smart or logical, and he will probably break my heart. But I’m still going to love him. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me. So this time, you can either support me or lose me, because I’m not going to let you make me question myself any longer.”
Chest heaving, Melissa turned to grab her clothing. Her own words rang in her ears. She did love him. She loved Garth Solen and in exactly three days, when he got a clean bill of health for Nan, he was going to ask for his ring back. He was going to walk away, and pretend like this entire interlude had never happened.
But that didn’t matter one iota.
Love didn’t ask permission. It wasn’t sensible or logical. It did as it wished, and damn the consequences.
Phoebe stared, her mouth hanging open in shock. “But…but…”
“I’m serious,” Melissa warned. “Back off the complaining and the doubting, too. Because once he does break my heart, I’m going to need you.”
“Honey, I don’t understand—”
“Melissa?” Estalyn had returned, holding a rich, ivory satin gown in front of her. The simple garment had a fitted bodice, sheer cap sleeves, and a plunging neckline.
“Ohhhh.” Melissa breathed out slowly. “Oh, it’s perfect.”
“You’ll have to wear pasties,” Estalyn warned. “It shows everything underneath. Can’t do a bra or undies. I only suggest this dress for women with a perfect body—like yours.”
Melissa barely heard her speaking. “Can I try it?”
“Of course. Let me help you.”
Melissa moved back in front of the mirror. From that vantage point, she watched as her mother grabbed the hanger from Estalyn and stomped over.
“No one is helping you but me,” Phoebe muttered. “I’m your mother, damn it. And if you want to wear this dress, I’m going to be here to help you put it on.” She grabbed Melissa in a quick, fierce hug, and then pushed her back onto the daïs.
Melissa smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”
Phoebe grimaced. “Now put your arms up so we can slip this nightgown on you. But leave your bra on. I’m not watching you try on a pasty. Whatever that is.”
Chapter Twenty
Melissa was standing in her bedroom, peering into the mirror over her dresser and carefully applying her last coat of lip gloss when the buzzer rang from the outside door to her apartment. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. Five forty-five. Garth was early.
Damn.
She set down the rose wand and trotted over to the intercom in the living room. She wore a brand-new dress she’d just bought from Estalyn. It had been a bridesmaid gown, but was perfect for the auction. The evening blue gown was cut in a similar style to the wedding dress she’d fallen in love with, but was gathered at the hip in a series of pleats that gave a little extra curve to her figure. She wore it with a pair of strappy golden heels, long earrings, and gold necklace. Her hair hung in loose curls around her neck and shoulders.
Melissa felt beautiful and sophisticated, and knew with an absolute certainty that Garth would do everything in his power to ignore her.
She’d left her mother at the wedding dress boutique just an hour before with a hug and a promise to call the next day. Amazingly enough, her tough words with Phoebe seemed to have broken down an unspoken barrier that had stood between them for years. Even though her mother didn’t like Garth any more than she had before, at least she understood Melissa’s choice, and was committed to doing whatever she could to support it.
The anticipation of seeing him after her outpouring of love to her mother had Melissa’s palms sweating and her throat clutching shut. She couldn’t help but wonder if he would see it in her face. Did “I love you” leave a visible marker on her lips or in her eyes?
“Come on up!” She pushed the front door buzzer without waiting for a response. She hadn’t yet decided what her tactic would be for the night. She wanted to talk to him about her feelings but wasn’t sure if she could without getting overly emotional. And she had no idea how he would react if she did.
Well, no, that wasn’t entirely true. She had a really good idea what he would do. He would shut down. Turn off. Refuse to listen.
But surely there was some way to make him listen. She didn’t know how deep his feelings for her went, but she knew he cared about her. She had to find a way to persuade him to take a risk on that emotion.
If only she knew how.
A knock sounded sharply at her door. She checked the keyhole as a matter of habit and sucked in a breath.
It wasn’t Garth.
She blinked, took a deep breath, and peered through the hole again.
The vision did not change. Standing on her doorstep was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a bump in his nose and the trademark Bencher blue eyes. And he was scowling hard enough to break glass.
“Brit?” Melissa stepped back from the door, her hand clutching instinctively at her chest. “Oh dear God, no.”
“Open the door, Melissa,” he ordered calmly.
Melissa actually felt a wave of dizziness pass through her. She sucked down a lungful of air.
No, no, no, no, NO.
He would ruin everything.
Orelian. ThinkSpeak.
Reporters.
The auction. Press. Pictures.
She forced her body into action, throwing open the door and grabbing his arm. “So what are you doing here?” she hissed as she dragged him inside.
He shook off her hand. “I want to know what the hell you’ve been doing. And where I can get my hands on that asshole.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. That was when Melissa noticed his rumpled button-down shirt and wrinkled khakis, and the line of exhaustion etched around his eyes.
“When did you get back to New York?” she asked.
He glanced at his watch. “Twenty-five minutes ago. Tori’s getting us coffee. I told her I needed a few minutes alone with you.”
“So you had time to dispose of the body?”
“So I could figure out what could possibly possess you to lie to your entire family, and most of the free world.”
His voice had taken on that eerie, quiet quality he only used when he was absolutely furious. “You have no right to talk to me this way.” Melissa injected as much confidence as she could into her tone.
“I disagree.” Brit ran his fingers through his hair. It had grown long, curling over his ears in a thick black wave.
“You shaved,” she realized with a start.
“What?”
“Tori told me you were growing your beard. I wanted to see it.”
Brit
looked slightly shamefaced. “It was silly. But fun.”
Melissa studied him more closely. He looked different, though what exactly had changed was hard to identify. The dark shadow on his jaw was familiar, but the tan on his face, the relaxed attire—the shirt open at the neck, khakis sitting low on his waist—the thick gold band on his finger…
She squealed and grabbed his hand. “Wait, what is this?”
Brit dropped his eyes. “It’s…well…”
“It’s a wedding band, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “Tori and I got married a week ago.”
“You eloped?” Her mouth dropped open. “Seriously?”
“You know how Mom is,” he said, almost pleading. “And Tori doesn’t have any family to worry about. She really wanted you all to be there, but I didn’t want to get everyone in a tizzy over it, and we just fell in love with Scotland.”
“You are in so much trouble,” she breathed happily, thrilled to have the attention turned away from her own failures as a daughter. “Mom is going to kill you!”
“Oh, stop it,” he snapped. “We’re going to have another ceremony in a few months so she can do her whole crazy Phoebe thing. Besides, you’re the one who’s apparently faking an entire engagement, which I had to find out because our photographer had apparently been following the story of ‘America’s Sweetheart Steals the Heart of The Human Computer.’ So let’s talk about that again, shall we?”
Melissa crossed her arms over her chest. “Let’s not. It’s my business.”
Brit glowered. “You’re my sister. It’s my business, too.”
“Actually, I’m pretty sure that familial tie doesn’t give you any right to meddle around in my affairs.”
“Really? Even if they’re singularly crazy? Even if you’ve been pressured by some jerk to pretend you’re engaged? Even if you’re lying to our parents and brothers, all of whom I called before I came, all of whom insisted this whole thing was real?”
Melissa stuck out her chin. “Yes. To all of that. My life. My crazy. Not yours.”
“I’m going to kill him.”
“You’re going to leave,” she said, “and then you’re going to go home and sleep for the next twelve hours. After you wake up, you will pack, get on a plane and go to Aruba, or St. Croix, or wherever you and Tori want to spend the rest of your honeymoon. In a few days, you will discover that my engagement is over. You will roll over, apply a little more sunscreen to your wife’s back, and go back to reading whatever gruesome serial killer novel is popular right now. In a few weeks you’ll return and the whole thing will be over.”
“If you think I’m going to let him get away with this, you’re even loonier than I thought.” Brit’s hand formed a fist. “Tori told me everything. I don’t care if you did start the rumor—he had no right to force you into this.”
“He didn’t force me. I walked into this of my own accord.”
“Right,” Brit said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “He’s your boss, Melissa. You would have done whatever he told you.”
Her blood pressure rose. “Actually, brother dear, I happen to have both a brain and free will. I created this situation and I decided to help fix it. And yes, it might be more than a little strange, but you don’t know Garth. He would do anything to protect his grandmother, and now that I’ve met her, I would, too.”
Brit gritted his teeth. “This conversation is getting us nowhere. I’m going to kill him and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” He finally seemed to take in her outfit. “Why are you dressed like that, anyway? I’ve never seen you in that sort of a dress.”
“If by that you mean a beautiful, sexy number that makes me look fantastic, you’re right. I’ve never owned a dress like this before. And I’m going to the Autism Advocates auction with Garth. Which is why you are going home, and shutting the blinds, and doing whatever you have to do to keep your big fat mouth shut.” She poked him in the chest with her finger. “I realize I’ve let you push me around in the past, but it’s not going to work this time. I’m not going to let you hurt Garth, do you hear me? He’s in the middle of a very important deal right now, and I’m not going to have it all blown apart because my brother decided to make a scene.”
“I don’t understand why you’re protecting him,” Brit said. “He’s been treating you like a fool. You’ll never just walk away from this engagement.” He used finger quotes to demonstrate his disdain for the very word. “This story is going to follow you for the rest of your life. How is he going to repay you for that? I’ll tell you—he can’t. Which is exactly why I’m going to kill him.”
When some men got angry, they got loud. Brit got quiet. Now, his voice dropped to a silky, menacing promise. That, coupled with his bar-room brawl nose, not to mention his fighter’s stance, completed the picture of a man prepared to do exactly what he had said.
All of which had the odd, unintended effect of washing away Melissa’s anger.
“Of course he can’t repay me,” she said, placing her hand on her brother’s arm. “He doesn’t have to.”
Brit’s bossy, overprotective behavior was painfully familiar. Yet how could she stay mad at him for wanting to come to her rescue? This was Brit. The man who had been more like a father than a brother to her. The man who do anything to protect her—even risk a lifetime with the woman of his dreams.
She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug. “You’re a first-class busybody, you know that?”
He paused for a moment before returning the hug. His voice shook a little when she finally pulled away. “I won’t let any man hurt you again,” he said. “I didn’t keep Mark away from you like I should have. I can’t let it happen again. Not when you’re just starting to recover.”
She shook her head. “Brit, I know you’re doing this because you love me, but it’s not your job to protect my heart. That’s my job.”
The front door buzzer startled both of them. Brit walked over and pushed the intercom. “Tori, is that you?”
“Yes—but why are you answering Melissa’s door? Is she alive in there? You promised me you wouldn’t kill her. Melissa, I am so sorry! I wanted to call but Brit insisted we jump on a plane the second he found out and he was hell-bent on talking to you in person first. He was so mad that I hadn’t told him about this from the start that I agreed but I feel terrible and—”
She started to say something else but Brit pushed the button to unlock the door. He shook his head and leaned into the intercom. “Just come up,” he said.
Brit turned to Melissa and heaved a deep sigh. “That woman talks more than any other person on the planet.”
Melissa didn’t have the heart to be mad at Tori. Not when she knew just how difficult the other woman’s road to love had been. Not when her brother’s voice spilled over with such obvious affection. “And you love her for it.”
“I do.” He paused, and a tender look appeared in his eyes. Then gave his head a quick shake and focused again on Melissa. “But ’Lis, I don’t understand any of this. Can’t you explain, just a little?”
The confused, concerned note in his voice, following the moment in which his love for Tori might as well have been written across his face with a giant permanent marker, turned some internal spigot to “on” and tears welled up in Melissa’s eyes. She waved a hand in front of her face and sucked in a breath, trying for calm. “Oh, it’s just…the whole thing is absurd, really…” Her throat closed, and she had to stop to hold back a fresh wave of tears.
“Now you’re worrying me.” Brit touched her shoulder gently. “What’s really going on?”
“I’m in love with him, okay?” she burst out. “I love the stupid man more than I can possibly express. So you’re going to have to hold off on killing him. At least until I figure out what to do about it.”
Brit’s reaction—the first wave of realization and pity, and then slow build of anger and fear—hurt almost as much as the confession. She knew what he was thinking: what would happe
n to her this time? How bad would things get when she was rejected again?
But then she heard the sound of a quiet, feminine exclamation. Melissa turned to the door in horror. The door she’d left unlocked when she dragged Brit inside. The door in which Tori and Garth now stood. Tori, barely standing as tall as Garth’s shoulder, her curly hair loose and wild around her shoulders, looking happier and more relaxed than Melissa had ever seen—except for the look of shock on her face.
Garth, wearing his tuxedo, looking dark and distinguished, his jaw sharp, eyes steely.
Standing in the doorstep.
Watching.
And listening.
Chapter Twenty-one
They’d heard every word. Of course. Because really, in Melissa’s world, things didn’t just go wrong. They went horribly wrong. Horribly, spectacularly, fantastically wrong.
She didn’t just get cheated on by her boyfriend—she discovered her boyfriend making whoopee on her kitchen table with her only friend for three thousand miles.
She didn’t just lash out and make up a stupid rumor that a few people spread—her rumor ended up on the cover of a tabloid read by millions.
And she didn’t just fall in love with a normal man—she fell in love with the human computer, and then inadvertently confessed her love to him with her brother and his wife standing alongside.
“Sorry, Melissa,” Tori squeaked. “He walked up right as I…” She trailed off, her gaze darting between Garth and Melissa.
She couldn’t look away. Garth’s dark, fathomless eyes were locked on hers. No emotion, not a trace of sympathy, pity, or love passed across his granite features. Nothing. He was as rigid and cold as a statue. Finally, after an endless, interminable pause, he drew a breath.