“Sorry to interrupt,” Mark said, not sounding sorry at all.
Chris lifted his head. Mark stared down at them, his face split with a wide grin. Zoey stood next to him. Chris shot his brother the Death Stare.
Mark backed up a step and held out his hands. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. The sisters told me to remind you it’s time to go. They left a few minutes ago and were giggling and whispering over the goings-on in the pool. I told them you were just doing your bachelor thing... ” His gaze shifted to Melanie and he shot her a sheepish grin. “Oops, sorry Mel. Just kidding .” He returned his attention to Chris. “Anyway, expect the Inquisition some time tonight. See ya back at the house.” He slung an arm over Zoey’s shoulders and they headed toward the exit.
Melanie thunked her head back against the side of the pool. “Jeez, how embarrassing was that?” She pressed her palms to her flaming cheeks. “I know I’m blushing. How can I face them? What will they think of me? I was ready to strip you bare right here in the pool. Good thing Mark came along or I would have done just that.”
Chris mentally cursed his no-longer-loved brother and vowed to take him out of his will.
“Seriously, what is wrong with me?” Melanie continued in a stricken voice. “I never behave this way. And certainly not with a guy I barely know. And in front of his family.”
“You were going to strip me bare?”
She lowered her hands from her face and shot him a look that was clearly meant to set him on fire. Huh. Good thing they were still in the pool. “That is not a good thing, Chris.”
The hell it wasn’t. In fact, as far as he was concerned it was a great thing. He brushed a single fingertip over the hectic color blooming on her cheeks and found himself completely charmed. He didn’t know women still blushed.
Something inside him squeezed tight. Damn it, he was in deep trouble. No woman had ever affected him this way before. Not even close. It was as if she’d reached inside him and grabbed his heart with her fist. He had a strong suspicion that an emotional minefield hovered just around the corner. He should run, not walk, in the opposite direction to avoid being blown to bits, but he couldn't seem to help himself.
This woman was putting a real kink in his swinging bachelor plans.
In fact, his swinging bachelor plans were looking more and more unappealing with each passing minute.
Damn, damn, double damn.
CHAPTER FIVE
Back at the Bishop house, Melanie used a guest bedroom to change her clothes. Once she was dressed, she spent a few minutes looking at the framed photos on the dresser and bookcase. The pictures represented milestones in the Bishop family-- weddings, graduations, family vacations. One photo in particular caught her eye and she picked it up. It depicted a teenaged Chris holding a racquet and posing with what was clearly his high school tennis team. He wore a huge smile and stood next to a giant trophy engraved with the words State Champions.
Yikes. He was handsome even in high school. Melanie imagined a corp of coeds fighting over him. She replaced the picture then studied the one next to it-- another of teenaged Chris, this time wearing a black tux, his arm around a pretty girl in a pink formal. Obviously a prom. Again he looked incredible. Lucky girl. Melanie’s senior prom date held no fond memories. She'd gone with John Klingerhammer, a boy she'd known since fourth grade who went by the unfortunate nickname of Itchy. He'd panted and pawed her all night until she'd finally jabbed him in the eye with her corsage. She hadn't spoken to Itchy since. He was probably doing time for assault.
She picked up another picture and smiled at the image of Chris and Mark standing on a beach, both suntanned, soaking wet, and laughing. Mark's fingers made devil horns behind Chris's back, and Chris was giving Mark a head noogie.
She replaced the photo, trying to banish the vivid image of Chris in his bathing trunks at the pool this afternoon, but it was impossible. His broad shoulders tapered down to abs that looked stolen from an underwear ad. Seriously, how did Calvin Klein not know about this guy? A sprinkling of dark chest hair arrowed down to bisect those perfect abs then disappear into his trunks. She'd had an incredible urge to pull out the waistband of his board shorts a few inches and see where that enticing line led. He was lean, muscular, and sent everything that was female in her into an immediate frenzy.
And then there was that kiss. Whooooeee. She waved her hand in front of her face in an effort to cool the blush heating her cheeks. Being kissed by Chris when he was fully clothed had left her breathless. Being kissed by him in the pool, his skin warm and wet, his body hard and urgent, with nothing between them but their swimsuits had practically killed her. God help her if she ever saw him naked. She'd have a stroke for sure.
Not that she was thinking along those lines. Oh, no. Seeing Chris naked was the absolute farthest thing from her mind. Anyway, she knew what a naked man looked like. Seen one, you've seen 'em all. Nope. The words naked and Chris would never be in a sentence that passed her lips. Starting right now.
Besides, after tonight she had no intention of seeing him again. What would be the point? They'd be even on their favors, and although she found him attractive-- okay, wildly, desperately attractive-- she wasn't going to get involved. Her career plans had already been nearly derailed by her last disastrous romance. No way was she going to set herself up for something like that again. No way in hell. She'd have to make that crystal clear when he drove her home tonight.
And he’d be fine with that, she was certain. He’d undoubtedly waste no time resuming his-- what had his brother called it? His bachelor thing-- as soon as he dropped her off. Clearly, getting rid of him would be easy. And that was good. Yup. Very good. That resolved, she exited the guestroom to head back to the kitchen.
She’d just entered the hallway when Chris’s deep voice sounded behind her. “There you are." Before she could turn around, his arms came around her waist and his lips touched the side of her neck. "Hmmmm," he murmured against her ear, "you always smell so good. What is that?"
A shiver twittered down her spine. "Chlorine, I would imagine."
He laughed softly, and his warm breath tickled over her skin, pulsing her nerve endings into red alert. She closed her eyes and prayed for strength. The man was going to make her lose her mind. This called for drastic action. Immediate retreat. She drew a deep breath and forced herself to step away from him.
"I’m on my way to the kitchen to offer my services," she said, proud that her voice sounded so steady.
"Good idea. I'm starved." He took her hand and led her to the kitchen where they, along with Nana, spent the next twenty minutes helping Chris's mom and sisters with the final dinner preparations. The atmosphere was lively and fun, and Melanie couldn’t recall the last time she’d enjoyed herself so much. Chris’s family was warm and friendly and made her laugh ‘til her sides hurt. Too bad she’d never them again.
Their banter carried on all through dinner. After consuming a veritable wagonload of hamburgers, hot dogs, and salads, everyone sat in lawn chairs under the shade of a huge weeping willow. They were just finishing dessert when Nana leaned over and nudged Melanie’s arm.
"Who's the hunk?" she whispered out of the side of her mouth, jerking her head in the direction of a distinguished gentleman who Melanie judged to be around Nana’s age walking toward them.
Melanie shook her head. "Don't know."
The "hunk" turned out to be Bernie Sinclair, the Bishops' next-door neighbor. He pulled up a chair, and Melanie was amused to notice how adroitly Nana maneuvered her chair around until she and Bernie sat next to each other. Within ten minutes they were yakking like old buddies. Within an hour, Nana and Bernie rose, announcing that they were leaving.
"Bernie knows a great little place that plays forties tunes and serves two-for-one margaritas," Nana declared. She thanked Chris and his family for their hospitality and said her good-byes. When she hugged Melanie, she whispered, "Don't wait up!"
"Actually, I need to leave, too," Melanie said to
Chris right after Nana left. “Busy day tomorrow.”
She thought she detected disappointment in his eyes, but he said, "Okay."
After gathering her things, Melanie said good-bye to Chris's family. His sisters hugged her, and little Amanda attached herself to Melanie's leg like a vine. Lorna kissed both her cheeks and invited her to come back anytime, an invitation that had Melanie blinking back tears. They were all so nice and had made her feel so welcome.
But her one date with Christopher Bishop was over.
~~~
Twenty minutes later, after a nearly silent car ride, Melanie breathed a sigh of relief when Chris parked the Mercedes in front of her house. Now all she had to do was say good-bye to him. That was the plan. No problem. Piece of cake. She turned to bid him a fond adieu, but before she could open her mouth he said, "Looks like Nana's found herself a boyfriend."
Diverted from her plan, Melanie said, "Bernie seems like a nice man."
Chris nodded. "He’s a great guy. A widower-- his wife passed away three years ago after a long illness. He's lived next door for as long as I can remember. Since his wife's death, he's been really lonely."
"My Grandpa Will, Nana's husband, died eight years ago. Nana's so lively and vibrant. And alone. It would be great if she could find a nice man to spend some time with."
"And what about her granddaughter?" Chris asked, his gaze probing hers. "Is she looking for a nice man to spend some time with?"
Melanie drew a bracing breath. This was her opportunity to tell him. Tell him that she had no room in her life for him. "Look, Chris-- "
"Uh-oh. That doesn't sound good."
"You're a nice guy, and I had a lot of fun today, but-- "
"In my experience stuff that comes after 'but' is generally not good."
"Well, since you’re an accountant, I’ll just give you the bottom line. I simply don't have time for this. For you. For anyone. The Pampered Palate already takes all my time and energy, and I'm planning to expand. I'm determined to see my business succeed. All my money, all Nana's money is tied up in it. I can't afford to fail.
"To be perfectly blunt," she continued in a rush, "I don't want my attention diverted by a relationship that will eventually die from lack of attention. Then I'll not only have a failed business, but a broken heart on my hands. I've already had my career aspirations diverted and my heart broken once. Believe me, once is enough."
"I can understand that," he said in a quiet voice. "My schedule is bad, too. I have to travel a lot, and I've been putting in twelve-, fourteen-hour days for so long, it seems normal. And since I made partner, it's even worse." He reached across the seat and squeezed her hand. "But there’s more to life than work and I'm willing to make time for something important." His gaze searched hers. "I'm willing to make time for you."
Her heart flipped over in her chest. What the heck was going on? He wasn't supposed to say these things. He was supposed to say fine, great, gotta do my bachelor thing, see ya, have a nice life.
"There are only so many hours in a day, Chris."
"I know. And since I met you, you've been on my mind every single one of them. I didn't want it, I can't explain it, but there it is." He squeezed her hand and smiled at her. "Hey, relax. All I'm suggesting is that we get to know each other better. Go out. Have some laughs. Nothing serious. No strings."
A ha! Nothing serious. No strings. That was his male bachelor reflex kicking in, no doubt. She shook her head to clear it. "There are hundreds of reasons why we shouldn't pursue this… this whatever-it-is."
He nodded encouragingly. "Excellent. Please tell me what they are ‘cause I've been trying to convince myself of that very thing and I'm coming up empty.”
And just like that, her mind went blank. “Oh. Well, maybe hundreds was a bit of an exaggeration.”
“Fine. Name one.”
Okay. One should be easy. ‘Cause there really were hundreds. Or at least a dozen. So why the heck couldn't she think of one? Probably because of the way he was looking at her, his gorgeous eyes all serious, his gorgeous face cast in shadows, a lock of his gorgeous hair falling across his brow. How was she supposed to think when faced with so much gorgeousness? It had lulled her brain into a completely dormant state.
Her thought processes suddenly kicked in and relief washed over her. "Okay. Here's one. We have absolutely nothing in common."
"That's not true. We have a lot in common."
"Such as?"
His gaze roamed slowly over her from head to toe, igniting small bonfires all over her skin. When their eyes met again, his gleamed with mischief. "We both have belly buttons."
A breath she hadn't realized she held whooshed from her lungs in a shaky laugh. "Belly buttons? Oh, brother."
A sexy half grin curved his lips. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."
"I'll bet. And we’ve already seen them. At the pool today.” She raised her brows. “Are we still talking about belly buttons?"
"Of course.”
Before she could stop it, her gaze drifted down to his abdomen. She nearly swallowed her tongue when she saw the unmistakable-- not to mention impressive-- bulge tenting in his shorts.
She had to clear her throat to locate her voice. "It would appear you have an 'outie.' "
"Constantly. Ever since I met you."
Good grief. Now she knew they weren't talking about belly buttons anymore. She somehow managed to force her gaze away from his fascinating "outie." Gazing into his amused eyes, she tried to recall what on earth they'd been talking about. Oh, yes. The hundred reasons why they shouldn't pursue a relationship.
"Okay," she said. "Here's another one. I know all about guys like you." Ha. So there.
A frown appeared between his brows. "Guys like me? What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know. Good looking, er, accountant types. Oh, you might appear harmless, but you're all philanderers."
"I'm a lot of things, but I am not a stamp collector."
"Not a philatelist. A philanderer. Someone who engages in casual affairs."
"Excuse me?"
"Fickle-hearted. Love 'em and leave 'em. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am… " her words trailed off as she noted his expression. All signs of amusement had vanished. In fact, he looked genuinely hurt.
"What have I done to make you think so badly of me?"
Nothing. Damn it, he'd been nothing but nice. And he scared her to death. He rekindled desires and needs she'd ruthlessly buried when her fiancé had dumped her. That was reason enough to run and hide.
"I don't think badly of you.” She pushed her hair behind her ears and realized her hands were shaking. “I don’t know you well enough to think anything of you-- ”
“A situation I’m attempting to remedy, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I noticed. But it’s not going to happen. You're just too… too everything. Too handsome. Too nice. Too sexy. A boyfriend is the last thing I need. Relationships and I don't get along."
"I'm not him," he said in a quiet voice.
"Who?"
"The guy who hurt you. Melanie, I'm not him."
"I know." To her chagrin, hot tears pushed behind her eyes. Drat. She refused to cry. It was out of the question.
"Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked. "It might make you feel better-- clear the air."
She shrugged and forced away the tears. "There's not much to tell. I was engaged. The day before the wedding I dropped by my fiancé Todd's apartment to surprise him with a gift." She paused and took a deep breath. "I surprised him all right. Him and Missy, my maid of honor. Doing the wild thing right on the kitchen floor."
Chris winced. "Ouch."
"That's exactly what Todd said when I belted him upside his cheating head with my purse."
"I hope you gave him a lump."
A tiny smile touched the corners of her mouth. "A lump and a shiner, which helped my pride but didn't do much for my broken heart. I lost my fiancé and my best friend in one fell swoop. Not to ment
ion the humiliation involved in canceling a wedding with only a few hours' notice. Or the fact that the drama and heartbreak were time-sucks that royally messed with my career plans.”
He squeezed her hands then raised them to his mouth and pressed a kiss against the backs of her fingers. “I'm sorry something so hurtful happened to you. But at least you didn't marry the jerk."
"No, I didn't. But the experience made me careful. Very careful. I refuse to go through anything like that again.”
The half smile that tilted his mouth was at odds with the dead-serious look in his eyes. "I can promise you'll never find me boffing your best friend on the kitchen floor." He raised his hand. "Scout's honor."
"Chris, look-- "
"I don't cheat, Melanie," he said quietly, all vestiges of his smile and humor gone. "And I don't make promises I can't keep. I always try to be upfront with the women I date. I'm very attracted to you. I'd like to see where it leads. I'm only asking for a date. Who knows? Maybe we'll go out once and end up hating each other."
Fat chance. Melanie had a sneaking suspicion that she'd end up falling hard and coming up empty again. Her stomach cramped at the thought.
"The problem is you've come along at a really bad time,” she said. “I simply don't have time for you. I don't want to want you."
"If it makes you feel any better, I don't want to want you either. So how about dinner tomorrow night?" He leaned closer, clearly intending to kiss her. Her newly awakened erogenous zones leapt to life with a ferocity that left her bordering on panic. Self-preservation screamed at her to get away from him. Right now. Before her hormones won the war raging inside her.
She grabbed her purse and all but bolted from the car.
Chris turned off the engine and joined her on the driveway.
Feeling completely unhinged, she paced back and forth. "I can’t do this. Absolutely not.” She stopped in front of him and grasped for any excuse that would save her from this devastatingly sexy man who threatened the peaceful existence she'd carved out for herself. "I can't possibly go out with you. You're… you're an accountant, for crying out loud. I can't possibly date an accountant. Accountants are stodgy and boring. Nothing but conservative suits and ties. Numbers and flowcharts."
Kiss the Cook Page 8