by Ruth Owen
“You’re staying here.”
“But—”
“You’re staying,” he said, his eyes locked on hers.
Melanie’s resolve melted. Those gilt-edged, honey-laced eyes held her heart just as a puppet master holds the strings. She lifted her hand from the handle and laid it demurely in her lap. “Okay, I’ll stay,” she said, having little option but to agree.
A corner of Chris’s mouth twitched. “Wise choice. For a minute there I thought I’d have to make you walk the plank,” he said, and started for the shop.
Some pirate, she thought glumly as she watched him disappear into the building. Leaves his victim alone while he buys suntan lotion. Blackbeard must be turning in his grave.
Chris’s desertion was temporary, but it reminded her of how much she’d come to depend on him during these last few weeks. It wasn’t only the help he’d given to Einstein. Chris’s good humor, his instinctive business sense, and most of all his outrageous sense of fun had opened a window in the dark and dingy attic of her life. The thought of being without him, even for a few minutes, started a cold and lonely ache inside her.
Get used to it, warned her logical side. In less than a week her partnership with Chris would be history. She had tried to turn it into something more and failed miserably. Next Wednesday he’d give their presentation to the board. If everything went as smoothly as she logically anticipated it would, she would have her funding, and he’d have his promotion. They’d both get what they wanted. Wouldn’t they?
She shifted in her seat, finding the soft leather suddenly uncomfortable. But a new position couldn’t take away the ache inside her. Why couldn’t Chris have turned out to be the cold, heartless playboy she’d first supposed him to be? Why did he have to be the sweetest, most considerate, and the hands-down sexiest man she’d ever known? Why did she have to go and fall head over heels in—
No! She would not let herself fall in love with him. She wouldn’t. Loving him would make the pain of his leaving unbearable. Only foolish mathematicians tackled problems that had no solutions. “Two times two is four,” she mumbled, clinging to the cold equations as if her life depended on them. “Two times three is six.”
She finished the two-times table, and the three-times table after that. She looked at her watch. Ten minutes had passed, and Chris was still in Ron Jon’s.
“We haven’t got all day,” she growled, using anger to mask her misery. What was he doing in there? What was so important that it couldn’t wait until after Einstein’s tests?
There was only one way to find out. Risking the plank, she left the car and walked up to the glass front of the store. She glanced through the window on her way to the front door—and froze.
Chris was standing at the counter with his arm around a young, extremely attractive blonde. His back was to Melanie, but from the way he was holding the woman she doubted he’d have seen her even if she were standing right in front of him. Melanie watched as he bent down and whispered something intimately into the woman’s ear. The blonde dissolved into charming giggles, and Melanie felt a knife go through her heart.
A minute later Chris came out of the store and found Melanie waiting in the car just as he’d left her. He tossed the small, securely wrapped package he carried into the backseat and opened the driver’s door. “Don’t ask me what’s inside,” he warned her as he got in. “It’s a surprise.”
“I think I’ve had enough surprises for one day,” she answered dryly.
Her tone puzzled him. Chris looked over, but Melanie had turned away, apparently studying the passing scenery. He shrugged, reasoning that she was probably still sore at him for making her stay in the car. He thought about the present he’d bought for her, and smiled. He’d change her mood. Chris intended to change a lot of her attitudes before this day was over.
They drove on in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Chris turned his car off the main highway and onto a private road that wound like a twisting ribbon along the edge of the beach. Several simple but elegant beach houses lined the waterfront, spaced far enough apart so as not to disturb the wildlife of the area. Melanie looked out at the dunes and rye grass, occasionally catching glimpses of the gleaming water beyond. Sea gulls wheeled overhead, crying to each other in their shrill, oddly melodic voices.
Despite her mood, Melanie smiled at the off-key symphony. It had been months since she’d visited the beach, and she’d almost forgotten how much she loved it.
Chris turned down a brick-lined drive and pulled up in front of a white, single-story structure. It was a newer home and its clean lines echoed the simplicity of the sea. White wood trim framed the tall windows, while the bright morning sun glinted off the panes.
“We’re here,” he announced.
Melanie looked at the house, thinking how easily it blended into the natural beauty of the landscape. Its owner had taken a great deal of care with its design. “Whose house is this?”
There was no mistaking the pride in his voice when Chris answered, “Mine.”
“Yours?”
“Yes, mine,” Chris repeated. “What’s the matter? Did you think I’d live in some high-rise bachelor pad?”
“Well, yes.”
“You’ve got a lot to learn about me, Melanie Rollins,” he told her, fastening his golden eyes on hers.
“And the first is that I don’t bring just anyone to my home.”
Melanie swallowed. His words implied a volume of possibilities, possibilities that would have set her soul on fire half an hour ago, before Chris’s visit to his beach shop playmate. But she knew the truth now and was determined not to make the same foolish mistakes she’d made last night. With hard-won discipline she schooled her features into a pleasant smile. “It’s very nice.”
“Nice?” Chris repeated. “Melanie, I’ve brought you to my home. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
Half an hour ago it would’ve meant a great deal to her, when she still believed Chris was beginning to think of her as something more than Einstein’s inventor. Damn, she thought, I wish I’d never looked through that window. But she had looked through it, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t get the image of Chris and the pretty salesgirl out of her head. Last night she had let her desires make a complete fool out of her. She wasn’t going to let it happen again.
“Mean anything? Well, I suppose it means this is where we’re testing Einstein’s hardware. Shouldn’t we get started? Otherwise we’ll be here all day.”
“And you wouldn’t want that, would you?” Chris said with a sigh. He got out of the car and walked over to open her door, wondering what it would take to get her mind off that blasted computer. There had to be a way. Somewhere under that electronics-wiz camouflage was the woman he’d met last night, the woman who had driven him almost crazy with desire. He remembered Melanie’s computer file and took heart.
Too bad he hadn’t thought to stock his refrigerator with oysters on the half shell and spicy sauce.
* * *
Chris paced his living room like a caged tiger. He’d spent three hours alone with Melanie—three hours of trying every method short of physical assault to get her attention. And for three hours she’d been glued exclusively to Einstein’s terminal, staring at that collection of amps and wires as if it were God’s gift. He’d never felt so frustrated.
He tried not to take it personally. Melanie had devoted several years of her life to her computer; he’d devoted two weeks. Naturally she’d want to check the test results, to make sure Einstein’s remote functions would be perfect for the presentation to his father and the rest of the board on Wednesday. But the only time she acknowledged his existence this morning was when she needed him to replace a wire, or realign the audio pickup, or perform some other, equally trivial task. She treated him as if he were some menial stooge, incapable of doing anything that required thought or skill.
Despite himself his doubts resurfaced. He’d spent a lifetime enduring that kind of attitude from
his father. He didn’t need it from Melanie too.
Sighing, he stopped pacing and looked over at her. Her back was to him, giving him ample opportunity to take in the soft, rounded lines of her figure. Even dressed in a shapeless blouse and an ankle-length skirt, her body had the power to stir him.
Physical assault was beginning to look very attractive.
“Chris?”
What did she need this time? A new transistor? A restrung wire? “Yes?”
“I think I’m finished.”
Finished. Chris had been waiting all morning to hear that magic word. From now on the day was his. He’d planned every minute of it during the long silence of the morning. There was so much he wanted to share with Melanie, things he hadn’t shared with anyone in a long time. He wanted to show her the gulls’ nests in the Audubon Sanctuary and the rock jetty where the bright fish schooled. He’d show her the ancient tide marker where he’d carved his initials as a child, the wandering sandbar, and the—
“And now that I’m finished, you can take me home.”
“Home? But, you can’t leave yet.”
Melanie paused, looking at him over her glasses. “Why not?”
Why not? Because there’s a world I want to share with you, Chris thought. Because I want you to see me as a man, not as the Sheffield executive, or Einstein’s parts supplier.
Chris drew a deep breath, striving for balance. “Melanie, it is a beautiful day outside. It would be … illogical to waste it. We ought to go swimming. Or something.”
Melanie looked out of the picture window at the luminous blue of the sea. Her wiser senses argued against staying, but she did love the ocean, and it had been a long time since she’d been to the beach. “It is lovely outside,” she agreed. “But I’m afraid I can’t go swimming. I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”
“Not a problem,” Chris said. This situation he’d planned for. He picked up the package he’d bought at Ron Jon’s and tossed it to Melanie. “Surprise.”
Melanie turned the package over in her hands, looking at it with undisguised distrust. “What is it?”
“If I tell you, it wouldn’t be a surprise,” Chris said, baffled by her actions. Anyone would think he’d handed her a poisonous snake instead of a present. “Just open it, will you?”
She did and pulled out the swimsuit he’d bought for her at the beach shop. Paula had assured him that it was simple enough to please the most conservative taste. Melanie, however, continued to look as if he’d handed her a smoking gun.
Enough was enough. “Okay, genius. What gives?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“The hell you don’t. The temperature in this room just dropped below freezing. What’s wrong?”
She turned her face away from him and started to trace the letters on E’s keyboard. “Nothing’s wrong. You’re imagining things.”
Einstein’s screen flashed to life. Disagree. Voice modulation indicates 87% chance of fraudulent response.
“What is this? A conspiracy?”
For once Chris was grateful for Einstein’s presence. “E’s just concerned about you. So am I.”
“I’ll bet.”
The resentment in her voice took him by surprise. What did she have to be angry about? He was the one who’d been ignored. “Would you mind telling me what the hell’s going on? What’s bugging you?”
Melanie turned to him, her dark eyes flashing with rage. Chris’s throat contracted. Animated by anger, his little mouse was one powerfully beautiful woman.
“Bugging me? I’ll tell you what’s bugging me. I didn’t stay in the car at Ron Jon’s. I looked through the window and saw you.”
“Okay, you saw me in Ron Jon’s. So what?”
Melanie looked at him as if he were mentally deficient. “I saw you with that salesgirl.”
The pieces began to fit together in Chris’s mind, but he was still a long way from solving the puzzle. “You saw me and Paula. Like I said before, so what?”
“So what? So you were hugging her. You were laughing together, and whispering things in her ear—” Melanie stopped a beat to collect herself. “I may not have much experience with men, but I do know when I’m being made a fool of.”
The puzzle came together in a rush. It all made sense—her sudden anger, her cold, distant behavior. Lord, I’m an idiot, Chris thought. “Melanie,” he said, smiling for the first time since they’d arrived at his house, “you’re jealous.”
“Jealous?” Melanie sputtered. “Why you conceited, egotistical … I might have known you’d say something like that. It’s just what I’d expect from a man with your reputation.”
“Reputation?”
“I’ve heard the stories,” Melanie said, her hands bunching and rebunching the swimsuit material. “Working at Sheffield you can’t help hearing them. You go through women like … like a hungry dog at a meat counter. Well, that approach may work with women like Lily and that little bimbo at Ron Jon’s, but it doesn’t impress me in the least.”
Chris’s smile died. “You believed those stories?”
“I believe the evidence of my own eyes,” she stated. “You delayed Einstein’s testing to make a pass at that Ron Jon’s salesgirl. I think that pretty well sums things up.”
“Not quite,” Chris countered, his voice tight with anger. “Sorry to contradict that superbrain of yours, but I wasn’t making a pass at that salesgirl. I wouldn’t. She’s my cousin.”
Melanie’s jaw dropped. “Your—”
“Cousin,” repeated Chris. “My married cousin, in case you have any remaining doubts. She’s about your size and helped me pick out that suit.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so angry. He’d spent the whole morning doubting himself. And why? Because of Melanie’s insecurities.
Melanie opened her mouth to speak, but Chris cut her off. “I don’t want to hear it. All I want to do now is get out of this room and go for a swim. You want to go home—call a cab. No doubt you’d feel safer with some taxi driver than with a ‘hungry dog’ like me.”
He dove into the surf, relishing the shock of cold water against his too hot skin. His eyes burned with the sting of salt, and his tongue tasted the sea’s bitter edge. He raced out toward deeper water, stretching every muscle to its physical limit to get away from the land. Away from Melanie.
He’d been hard on her. Too hard, perhaps. He knew what the office gossips said about him, how he had the sexual morals of a stallion in heat and changed women more often than he changed ties. All he had to do was say hello to a girl, and the gossips had him in bed with her. They didn’t know that he hadn’t looked at another woman in months. They didn’t know it had been over a year since he’d invited a woman to his home. No, they just made up stories about him and passed them on as gospel truth.
He could understand how Melanie had gotten the wrong impression about him. That didn’t mean he forgave her.
His arms were getting tired. He turned back, thinking ruefully that there wasn’t much to go back to. Not anymore. By now Melanie’d be halfway home, probably using the quiet of the cab to make a mental inventory of his faults. No doubt insincerity would be high on the list, followed closely by stubbornness.
The day couldn’t have turned out worse if he had planned on it. He’d brought Melanie to his house to let her know how special she was to him. Instead she’d seen him with Paula, and jumped to the conclusion that she was just another weekend conquest. The stories she’d heard supported that conclusion.
Still, she should have had some faith in him. She should have trusted him enough to know he wasn’t a wolf out on the prowl. She might have to listen to the gossips, but she didn’t have to believe them. They didn’t know him as she did.
Chris’s feet touched bottom. He walked to the edge of the water and collapsed onto the warm, yielding sand. He threw his arm across his eyes, trying to relax, but his mind kept spinning. He kept seeing the hurt in Melanie’s eyes when he’d sarcastically called her “superbra
in.” Damn those gossips, he thought, his mouth forming into a tight line. And damn Melanie for believing them.
“Chris?”
She hadn’t left! His spirits rose, but he quickly suppressed them. She could be sticking around just to continue their argument, and the last thing he wanted was another confrontation. He didn’t move or answer her. Maybe she’d think he was asleep.
“I know you’re not asleep,” she said, spoiling that idea.
He heard her pad across the sand and kneel down beside him. “Some pirate you are. Telling your victim to take a cab home.”
He didn’t want to smile. He didn’t want her to be so important to him, emotionally and physically. Even now he could feel the warmth of her, smell her rich, feminine scent. The woman worked like a drug on his senses, drawing him to her in spite of his better judgment. He sighed. “What do you want, Melanie?”
“I want to apologize.”
He lifted his arm from his eyes and turned his head to face her. She continued, running her words together as if she couldn’t get them out fast enough. “I acted like a jerk. I had no right to say what I did. I mean, even if you were dating that girl it was none of my—Chris, are you all right?”
“All right” was a relative term. Melanie had put on the swimsuit he’d bought for her, and what she did to it defied description. Following his instructions, Paula had picked out one of the store’s most discreet styles: a black, simply cut one-piece with bright yellow panels on either side. A matching yellow zipper down the front was the only decoration.
The suit was appropriately conservative. There was just nothing conservative about the body in it.
“Melanie, you look … great.”
“Do I?” she said, smiling shyly. “I wasn’t sure. I looked in the mirror, and I think it bunches up a little around the—”
“Trust me, you look great.”
Her smile deepened. “You know you’ve been saying that a lot lately.”
Chris returned her smile, also remembering their earlier conversation. He’d told her he’d keep on saying it until she believed it. True, she’d fallen short of trusting him. But he hadn’t carried through on his promise either.