“Can’t blame a girl for trying?”
That’s when Melanie noticed the fabrics Perrin was working with today. A pure silk Duchesse satin that breathed with the faintest pearlescent sheen and a medium-weight silk crepe back satin in the palest, most perfect sky blue. She couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to stroke the materials.
“Soft, huh?”
“Oh my god, Perrin. Aren’t these like forty dollars a yard?”
“Fifty and fifty-five, wholesale. Sometimes a dress calls for the very best.”
“Well, it is a lucky woman who will be wearing this dress.”
“She won’t let me help her even measure it,” Tamara came in and dropped her school bag under the counter. She was a sharp contrast to her new mother, dark curly hair flowing to her shoulders versus Perrin’s short golden blond. Their skin was a sharp contrast as well, Tamara a permanent sun-kissed gold and Perrin almost as pale as the silk spread across the table.
Perrin hugged Tamara hard in greeting and Melanie was glad to see it was fully returned. She felt a dozen different pulls inside. The pull of a mother and daughter who clearly loved one another and were happier together than apart, the exact opposite of her own maternal relationship. And the pull of mother with child. Melanie had never pictured herself with a child, but watching the two of them together, she could almost see it.
“You,” Perrin leaned down to kiss Tamara on top of the head before letting her go, “can spend the afternoon on a project here if you promise to do your homework tonight.”
Tamara offered an indifferent shrug, exactly as you’d expect from a teen.
Perrin winked at Melanie before continuing. “First you have a clothing line to start designing.”
“I do?” Any affectation of disinterest evaporated in that instant.
Melanie did her best to hide her smile, but sliding on her model shield couldn’t suppress it. Tamara’s eyes had gone wide.
“Yes. I showed your sketches to one of the best professionals in the business,” Perrin smiled at Melanie.
Tamara’s jaw dropped as she turned to face Melanie for a moment then turned back to look up at her mom.
“And she said that they were a great start, really pretty, and you needed your own youth line. You get to name it, brand it, and design it. I’ll help you with all of that and the business.”
“TJPW!” she blurted out. “That’s what it’s called. Tam, Jasp—my little brother is named Jaspar,” Tammy told Melanie as if they didn’t already know each other. “P is for Perrin, and W for dad. I know. I know. Everyone calls him Bill. I thought about TJBP and got an oil company, the other way around I got Peanut Butter, so he gets W for William. The weird acronym will be cool. I’ve got a design for the logo at home. I really get my own line?” At the last she went from an effervescent rush back to breathy disbelief.
At Perrin’s nod, the girl leapt into Perrin’s arms.
Melanie had to look away from the sheer power of such joy. What might she have become with even that little bit of encouragement?
A gentle touch on her arm drew her attention back. Tamara stood close beside her. She mouthed a silent thank you and hugged Melanie gently. Melanie returned it the best she knew how.
Then, with a cry, “There’s so much to do!” Tamara turned back into a thirteen-year-old whirlwind, digging a sketchbook out of her pack and flipping to pages filled with more sketches. Without hesitation, she moved to the fabric wall, grabbed a pair of scissors and began trimming samples off the corners of different colors and materials to tape down beside her designs.
Perrin leaned in close to Melanie and added a kiss on each cheek to add to Tamara’s thanks. “So much to do, she isn’t kidding.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Melanie had thought the moment had eluded her again, but instead it had returned reinforced. The time was now.
When Melanie pulled out the file folder of letters and e-mails, Perrin grimaced. Then, she sat on the stool beside Melanie, close enough that their knees were brushing. Melanie was reminded of her lunch with Joshua and let that help her confidence.
“Okay,” Perrin took a deep breath and tried to offer her a smile. “Okay. How do I survive what’s happening to me?”
“Bon. At least you see the problem.” Melanie pulled out her notebook that she’d worked on at Elliot Bay Bookstore and Joshua’s notes of a few strategic enhancements.
Chapter 10
“What are you working on? And what is that divine smell?”
Joshua jerked back up from typing, inhaling like a diver emerging from the depths after his air tank had run out. Once again he’d missed Melanie’s entry into the condo.
He could only watch in stunned amazement as she crossed from the front door over to where he was set up on the dining table. She always walked like magic, every motion was a joy. But there was something more today. A lightness in her step, the damn woman shone like the springtime outside.
That she came directly to him and hit him with a kiss as powerful as any Taser, left him stunned speechless.
“Joshua? Melanie to Joshua? Hello. Anyone there?”
“Uh-uh.” Definitely not. He didn’t trust himself to try words yet, even mustering up a grunt was a hard-won victory.
She moved over to inspect the oven. His eyes continued to track her even if his brain couldn’t. He knew he was reacting badly, like some gobsmacked schoolboy, but he couldn’t stop.
One of the most beautiful women on the planet had just greeted him as if they hadn’t spent last night curled up together. Or rather she greeted him as if that’s exactly what they’d done. He still couldn’t believe it.
She squatted down and eased open the oven to peek. It was a fluid motion that sent heat rippling along his body. His mouth had gone dry and neither swallowing hard nor taking a slug from the long since gone warm lemonade sitting beside his computer helped in the slightest.
“It’s,” he managed in a lame croak. “It’s lasagna.”
She turned to grimace at him, then tried to cover it for his sake.
“No. No carb-laden pasta. Instead I used thin slices of roasted eggplant, low fat cheeses, and homemade red sauce. There’s a tossed salad in the fridge, just needs some avocado sliced over it right before I serve it.”
“Oh my god that sounds amazing.” Melanie flowed back to the table.
“I…” his pulse jumped significantly as she settled in the closest chair. “I cheated. I used Angelo’s red sauce, mine takes a couple days to meld flavors properly. So does his, but he always has a large batch of it going. I actually stole his recipe.” Babbling again. Since last night, her smell was such a part of his memory that he could pick it out despite the aromatic kitchen.
“What are you working on?”
“An article for Angelo. Did you have a good day?” Do you have any idea how constantly I was thinking about you?
“I did. I sat with Perrin and showed her the business plan we wrote up. It took away some of her fear, but she hasn’t bought in the whole way yet. Which is not a bad thing. The plan is still very rough and she has more than enough common sense to see that. I’m not sure what is missing, but we made progress.”
Joshua nodded and tried some more lemonade.
Melanie smiled at him coyly.
Joshua tried to remember how to breathe, because his autonomic systems had just shut down.
“It would be a shame to waste such a meal.”
“Waste? Why would it be wasted?”
Melanie took his hand and pulled him easily to his feet.
He stumbled after her as she returned to the kitchen, leading him like a puppy on a leash.
She turned off the oven and the timer. Then she led him toward the bedroom. Her bedroom.
“No. Wait. No!” His brain finally cut back in and he dug in his heels, her fingers almost slipping from his.
She looked at him in surprise, “Don’t you want this?”
“Like I want a glass of Cô
tes de Rhône after eating Robuchon’s Steak au Poivre,” Josh swallowed again. “That means yes, desperately. But you don’t want me.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking?”
“Oh. Okay, I don’t. I’ll admit that.”
“Excellent,” she tugged on his hand, but he resisted.
“You don’t want me. No, scratch that. Speaking for you again. I. Me. I don’t want to do this.”
“And yet you said, Oui, désespérément.”
“And I meant it.” He pulled his fingers from her grasp so that he stood some chance of thinking coherently. “But I’m a mess.”
“So you keep assuring me. And I’m not any better. I simply know that I want you in my bed and you are now the first man to ever tell me no.”
She reached for him, but he backed off. Dragging his hands through his hair did nothing to help.
“Melanie,” he tried to sound calm and rational. “I don’t want you as my rebound lover. I don’t want to bring my feelings of hurt and betrayal from my ex-wife into your bed. You deserve so much more than that. So much more than…me.”
Melanie laughed at him. She actually laughed at him. “Cassidy was so right about you.”
“Cassidy? What does she have to do with this?”
“She said,” Melanie took his hand again and once more led him, “that you were one of the most decent and charmant men she’d ever met. She was right.” She stopped just inside the bedroom and closed the door behind them.
He felt as if he was now on the wrong side of the bars around a lion’s cage. Lioness’ cage.
“Joshua, just answer me one question. Honestly.”
He looked into that perfect blue of her eyes and nodded, “Always. That’s what I’m trying to do is be hone—”
“Shh,” she rested a finger across his lips. “One word answer: yes or no. Okay?”
He nodded, not wanting her to remove her finger.
“Do you want to be with me?”
“Gods yes. So much—”
“One word, Joshua.” Her laugh sparked his own smile to life. “Just one, Mr. Writer.”
There was only one answer to the question. He pulled her into his arms, buried his face in her hair and held her tightly against him. So tightly that he never wanted to escape.
Melanie had never met such a man. He didn’t grab, grope, pinch, didn’t even kiss her. For a moment she half feared it might be a hug and then a “no.” But it wasn’t. It was a man holding her so close simply because he wanted to. As if the holding was more important than the lovemaking. It was, but no man ever understood that.
In turn, she simply wrapped her arms around his neck, rested her head on his shoulder and hung on. A gentle swaying motion came over them, building to a slow dance in which their bodies rubbed, nestled, warmed, heated, and finally burned.
When at last he kissed her, any sign of the gentle lover had vanished. Joshua was replaced by a man with need. Désespérément indeed. His hands roved over her, not grabbing, but rather studying, learning, memorizing. Such strong hands, as if custom-made to appreciate a woman’s shape. Her shape.
Though the bed was a bare two steps away, that was too far. He pushed her against the door as she wrapped herself about him. Most men were too rough, and she had to warn them to take care as she bruised easily. Not Joshua. Without holding back, he perfectly judged where pleasure soared without harm.
Except that his kiss was overwhelmingly powerful. For all he was doing to her body, their kiss had yet to end. He swallowed her purr of raw pleasure and his deep-throated moan in response vibrated right down her body.
She had unleashed the wild beast inside the gentle man.
Melanie gave herself to him to be consumed.
Josh felt the moment of change. He wasn’t sure from which of them it had come, but it was change. One moment he’d been holding Melanie the gorgeous supermodel. The next he’d been holding a woman with no name; not that she was nameless or faceless, but rather that no single name could describe her or contain such a person. A woman who offered her very being for him to hold, to discover, to revel in. A woman who embodied desire and passion and joy.
He lost himself as well. There was no Josh. There was only a man who wanted to bring this woman pleasure like none she’d ever imagined. There would be no tender moment. Not this time. The need was too great, as if they were male and female genders personified and all passion, heat, and fire of the species must be expressed only through them.
At times she whimpered, at times he did. Clothing was shed or torn aside. There would be time to marvel at such skin, such curves later. Now there was only hunger. Beyond sex, beyond need, beyond desperation. Their bodies knew what they themselves couldn’t possibly. They simply belonged together in a state like none he’d ever tread before.
Somehow, somewhere, they stumbled to the bed and found protection. And when she took him from above, when she arched her head back and her hair had showered over her like sunlight, he wanted to unleash a cry of triumph that would rattle off the very heavens.
Melanie had died. She knew it for a fact. And she had slaughtered the best lover she’d ever had. She lay upon the chest of the dead man and listened to his heart continue to hammer just as hers did. She’d never felt such a release, had never so lost herself to the act of sex.
She almost blushed at the thought. Calling what they had just done “sex” was like calling Josh’s gourmet eggplant lasagna a Stouffers frozen dinner.
When making love, Melanie always had retained control, maintained command. Even when appearing submissive, she still stood a half-step aside to monitor, shift, or shape the moment. Not this time. Dieu! Not anywhere close to control. She’d thrashed like a wild woman, taking everything he could give and begging for more.
And now they were both dead. Had to be after that.
Impossibly, showing a muscle control she knew she lacked, Joshua placed a hand on her back and began slowly stroking up and down her spine. As he went, she could feel him slowly sorting her hair from the tangle it must be, finger-combing it back to some sense of order. They must still be alive. Heaven, even if it felt this incroyable, would never include Melanie having tangled hair.
“There’s no way we can ever repeat that.” She tried not to feel sad at the thought. She was glad to have been there even once.
He kissed the top of her head. “Maybe not, but we can sure try.”
She nodded. That was encouraging.
They ate a silent, candlelit dinner. Words would be too much, too big. Joshua had pulled on jeans without underwear, and Melanie had slid on one of her overlarge t-shirts that kept sliding off one of her shoulders. She kept pulling it back into place so that she could watch Joshua’s eyes go dark with heat each time it slid off again.
The only thing that kept her from completely fawning over the food was that if she started to talk about the amazing food, then she’d give voice to the incredible sex. And she liked that a man so full of words wasn’t able to speak in her presence.
But the pressure of the silence built. Finally it grew until it wrapped so thick and warm between them that it filled the condo wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling.
She set down her plate, removed his from his nerveless hands and set it on the table.
He didn’t move. He simply looked up at her with those wide dark eyes.
She straddled him in the chair and held on as he took her once again. This time with all the care and tenderness that had been lacking before. Their need had gone quiet and careful. The candlelight caught highlights in his hair, glimmered in his eyes, and made her feel understood and welcome.
He leaned her back to gain access to her chest. She rested her back on the rounded table’s edge, dug her fingers into his soft hair and hung on. He murmured his appreciation as he sucked the warmth, heating her womb, heating her chest, until it flooded over her and all she could do was hold him tight to her as her world shifted.
Joshua was not some casual lover. This was not a
night of shared sex and a few weeks or months later, c’est la vie. She’d always thought the phrase “life-changing sex” to be a naïve and unlikely phrase. Even if this sex didn’t change her life, it had certainly tossed out any previous standard she’d ever had.
When they’d both gone over the top as quietly this time as they’d roared over it before, they didn’t move. Joshua held her in his lap, resting his head on her shoulder, her own cheek on the top of his impossibly soft hair.
“So,” she whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the distant jazz music coming in through the open kitchen window. “Are you going to resist me in the future?”
“I don’t know why I was dumb enough to try the first time. Your slightest whim is my command.”
“Well, there is this flower that only grows in ancient Tibet—”
Joshua groaned, “I’ll wager that going there will not turn me into Batman, which is a pity. I’ve always lusted after his car.”
Melanie rewarded him with a kiss atop his head for understanding her joke. She’d gone to the movie to see Christian Bale, he was ever so enjoyable to look at. She used to do that, make obscure comments, but no one ever understood. It made people uncomfortable, including her. But Joshua kept getting her obscure jokes. One more piece of herself that she could be around him.
“Okay. Here I have for you une question that you have carefully avoided every single time I’ve asked. This time, you have to answer it.” It was fun to tease him with the French model, especially because he saw the real Melanie so clearly.
She could feel his nod against her chest. The motion almost made her drag him back to bed. It was so close and personal.
“What are you writing, and why is it making you so très misérable?”
“What makes you think—” Josh didn’t bother finishing the question. Even Russell had caught on that he was unhappy with his writing, which meant he was being pretty damned obvious about it.
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