Oh, yeah. She felt it, all right. All the way down to her smoldering toes. Mutely, she nodded.
"Then let's go. 'Cause as much as I love you in that skimpy skirt, I can't wait to get you out of it."
Again Melanie simply nodded. Who the heck was she to argue with logic like that?
~~~
The fifteen-minute ride to his condo was an exercise in agony for Chris. God, he couldn't wait to get his hands on her. Touch her soft skin, feel her pressed against him. He'd missed her so damn much, he'd wanted to fall on her the moment he'd seen her, but he knew he couldn't or they'd never make it to the tennis courts. Now the match was over, and she was all his. Thank God.
But for how long?
Glenn had told him that his inquiries revealed that an eatery called Spaghetti Loco was indeed scheduled to open across the street from the Pampered Palate-- information that had been included in the review and that Chris suspected would sway the bank's decision concerning Melanie's loan. Would she blame him if the bank turned her down? And if she did, would he lose her?
No. Damn it, he wouldn't allow that to happen.
Needing to touch her, he held her hand the entire way home, and the instant the condo door closed behind them, he pulled her to him, kissing her with a heated desperation unlike anything he'd ever felt before. His hungry lips trailed a hot path down her neck while his restless hands slid up her thighs, under her skirt
"I don't think we're going to make it to the bedroom," he whispered against her mouth. He slipped his fingers into the waistband of her tennis panties and tugged them down over her hips.
"I don't think we're going to make it out of the foyer," Melanie agreed in a breathless voice, her fingers busily working on his shorts.
"How do you feel about the floor?" he asked, jerking her top from her skirt.
"Works for me."
~~~
"This floor is damn hard," Melanie moaned fifteen minutes later. "I feel a killer cramp coming on."
Chris, lying flat on his back next to her on the hardwood, grimaced in clear agreement. "Next time let's at least try and make it to the sofa, okay?"
"Agreed. At the very least you need a rug in here. I just want to know which one of us is going to get up and call the paramedics for the other one."
He chuckled. "Hey, we kicked some serious butt on the tennis court. Thanks for helping me put Dave in his place. I'm going to rename you Maria Sharapova."
"Thank you, Roger Federer." Melanie raised herself on one elbow and gazed down at him. He looked happy and tired, but unless she was mistaken, and it appeared obvious she wasn't, he was on his way toward full-blown arousal again. A half-laugh, half-groan escaped her. Looking pointedly at his groin, she asked, "Good grief, is that what I think it is?"
Lifting his head off the floor, he looked down at himself. "I'm afraid so." Moaning, he rolled to his feet then helped her up. Brushing her hair out of her eyes, he said, "C'mon, Ms. Tennis Ace. Let's wander into the bedroom and you can finish paying off your debt of honor. Then, in keeping with our getting-wet-on-every-date tradition, we'll take a shower. After that you can teach me how to cook. How does that sound?"
How did that sound? "It sounds like heaven."
~~~
They didn't get around to their cooking lesson until late Sunday afternoon.
Dressed in shorts and her favorite T-shirt with Kiss the Cook emblazoned across the chest, Melanie forced herself to concentrate on the lesson, but it was darn hard to do when her pupil kept nuzzling her neck.
"Behave yourself," she scolded in her best schoolmarm voice. "What kind of student are you?"
"I'm just following directions," Chris said. He brushed his fingertips over her breasts. "It clearly says right here to kiss the cook."
"If you don't knock it off, I'll have to take this shirt off."
"Great! Boy, this cooking sure is fun!"
Melanie grabbed a wooden spoon and brandished it like a sword. "Don't make me get rough with you."
He grinned. "This gets better and better."
Planting her hands on her hips, she said, "Back off. Cooking is serious business. No fooling around until we're done."
"Then let's hurry up and get done 'cause fooling around sounds like a hell of a lot more fun than cooking. Carry on, fearless chef. What are we making?”
"I call it ‘The Only Sauce You’ll Ever Need.’ You can use it for dozens of things, it's very simple to prepare, and you don't have to use exact amounts of any of the ingredients."
"Sounds good to me. As you know, the only things I know how to make are steak, potatoes, and martinis."
"Not anymore. The first thing you do is coarsely chop about a dozen plum tomatoes." She demonstrated, using deft strokes of a sharp knife.
"That looks easy."
"Then we're in good shape because that's the hardest part." She continued her lesson, adding chopped onions, minced garlic, olive oil, chopped fresh basil, and salt and pepper to the bowl of tomatoes. "That's it," she said, stirring the ingredients with a wooden spoon.
"You're kidding."
"Nope. It's so easy, it's almost laughable."
Chris peered into the bowl. "What do you do with it?"
For an answer, Melanie opened a bag of Mexican-style tostado chips. Dunking one into the sauce, she held it up to his lips.
He bit and chewed. "Hey, that's great."
She nodded. "At the Pampered Palate we call it 'Italian Salsa' because of the basil. If you slice and toast Italian bread and pour this sauce over it, you'll have a delicious bruschetta appetizer. For a main course, heat the sauce, toss it into a bowl of pasta, sprinkle with Parmesan cheese and you're all set. It's also great on salads instead of dressing, and it turns an ordinary omelet into a masterpiece."
"I can see why you call it 'The Only Sauce You'll Ever Need.' "
She handed him a recipe card with the Pampered Palate's logo printed in the corner. "I guarantee you'll impress whoever you make this for." The instant the words left her mouth, she regretted them. Stupid, stupid! How long before he stood in his kitchen, preparing her recipe while nuzzling some other woman's neck?
She wanted him to say something like "I'll never make this for anyone but you." Instead, he dipped another chip and said, "I'll be the most impressive guy in town. Thanks, Mel."
Clenching her hands, she fought the spurt of hot jealousy shooting through her and sternly told herself to get a grip. Affairs end. Sooner or later, she and Chris would part ways. He'd move on to the next woman, continuing his bachelor lifestyle, while she … while she what?
Focused on her business? Yes. But while she easily envisioned Chris entertaining a different supermodel type every night, she couldn't imagine herself with any other man.
And that's when she knew that in order to save herself from a shattered heart, she needed to end this affair.
Just end it. A clean break. The longer this went on, the more impossible picking up the pieces would become. She did not want to be in love, and by damn, she was going to get herself out of love. Right now. Even if the effort killed her.
And she suspected it would do just that.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Melanie prepared herself during the ride back to her house. As soon as they arrived, she'd recite her breezy "Thanks, it's been great, have a nice life" speech, then skip into the house. Easy as pie.
It was the heartache she knew that lurked around the corner that scared her silly.
He parked the Mercedes in her driveway but before she could speak, he asked, "What's troubling you, Mel Gibson? You're awfully quiet."
Clasping her clammy hands together, Melanie drew a resolute breath. "Chris, we need to talk."
He frowned and nodded. "Yes, I guess we do."
His serious tone sent a shiver down Melanie's spine. Women everywhere knew that tone. It was the it's-been-fun-but-now-it's-over tone. The I’ll-call-you-but-he-doesn't voice.
So he would end it. She should have been thrilled. It saved her th
e awkwardness of doing the deed. Yippee.
Her heart felt like she'd ripped it out with a rusty pitchfork. Damn it! This love crap really sucked.
Chris reached out and touched her hand. "Our… relationship hasn't really gone the way I expected it to."
Pasting on what she hoped passed as a devil-may-care expression, Melanie nodded and braced herself for his next words. Words that needed to be said. Had to be said. But would nonetheless break her heart.
"I love you, Melanie."
Melanie blinked. The loudest silence she’d ever heard echoed between them. She had no idea how long she stared at him, stunned and speechless, but it was long enough for his expression to turn concerned.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
What the hell kind of question was that? Okay? No! How dare he say something like that to her! So maybe she was falling in love with him, but she didn't want to!
And she certainly didn't want him to fall in love with her. She knew where love led, and she was terrified to stumble down that rocky path again. This was supposed to be an affair. Nothing more. He couldn't possibly love her. He was a confirmed bachelor, for cryin’ out loud! It was just his over active hormones talking.
"Chris-- "
He forestalled her words by placing a finger over her lips. "You don't have to say anything," he said in a quiet voice. "I didn't tell you so you'd feel obligated to say it back. I only told you because… well, I couldn’t not tell you. Besides, I have to fly to LA tomorrow morning and I didn't want to go away for three days and not have you know how I felt. So don't panic, okay?"
Panic instantly set in. Ohmigod. That didn't sound like hormones talking. Full-fledged, stark-raving, cold-sweat, heart-pounding panic gripped her. One word screamed through her brain: escape.
“I have to go," she said, grabbing her purse. "Look. There's Nana at the door. She's probably wondering what the heck we're doing out here."
"You spent the weekend with me. I think she knows what we're doing."
"Still, it's time for me to leave." She opened the car door but before she could scurry away, he stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.
“You’re looking panicked, Melanie.”
She took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. "I’m not,” she lied. “But I’m… surprised. And unsure of what to say. And of how I feel.”
“I understand.” His dark blue gaze probed hers. “But I’m sure. And I just wanted you to know.” He leaned over and brushed his mouth over hers. “I'll call you tomorrow from LA.”
"Okay. Safe trip. 'Bye." She hopped out of the car and sprinted across the lawn as if the devil himself pursued her. After entering the house she slammed the door, then leaned back against it and tried to catch her breath.
"Where's the hunk?" Nana asked.
"Gone."
"He must be some kisser. You're flushed and all out of breath."
Melanie opened her eyes and wiped the back of her hand across her overheated forehead. "I ran into the house."
"Seems to me you've got to be nuts to run away from a man like that." She peered at Melanie over the tops of her bifocals. "You want to talk about it?"
Hot tears filled Melanie's eyes. "No."
"He do something to upset you? 'Cause if he did, even though I like him and he's a hunk and all, I'll pound that sucker into the ground."
Tears dribbled down Melanie's cheeks. "He said he loves me."
Nana rolled her eyes. "Good night nurse! I guess I'd better get my rifle and shoot him dead, that no-good scoundrel. What nerve."
"I'm serious, Nana. He said he loves me."
"Then it seems to me you should be tap dancing on the roof, not standing there with big tears rolling down your face."
"But I don't want him to love me!" Melanie wailed.
"Horse feathers. Of course you do. What woman in her right mind wouldn't want a man like that? If I were a couple years younger, I'd wrestle you for him."
A sob she couldn’t contain escaped Melanie and she covered her face with her hands.
"Good grief, honey," Nan said, her voice filled with concern. "I guess this is serious. You come on into the kitchen and I'll make you a nice cup of tea. Then you can tell me all about what’s troubling you.”
Melanie nodded and followed Nana into the kitchen. She composed herself while her grandmother brewed chamomile tea. After taking a few sips, Melanie felt a little better.
"Now, what's got you so tied up in knots?" Nana demanded, sitting in the chair opposite Melanie.
"I don't know where to begin," Melanie said with a sigh.
"How about at the beginning?”
"The beginning? Okay. I knew that man was trouble the moment I laid eyes on him.”
"Trouble like he just got out of jail and we should hide the family silver?"
"No. Trouble like the silver's safe, but my heart isn't."
Nana stirred sugar into her tea. "And that's bad because… ?"
"Because I've clearly lost my mind." Unable to sit still, Melanie rose and paced around the kitchen, ticking reasons off on her fingers. "I had no intention of getting involved. I don't have time for him-- or for any man-- but especially not a man it would be so easy to lose my heart over. I've been in love. Love stinks. It hurts. I don't like it."
"Melanie. Are you in love with Chris?"
Melanie stopped pacing and plunged her fingers through her hair. She wanted to say no, to deny it, but she couldn’t. Even if she could fool Nana-- which she couldn’t-- she couldn’t fool herself any longer. "Yes. But I don't want to be. How can I make it go away?"
Her grandmother laughed. "It's love, honey, not the flu."
"Feels just as bad," Melanie grumbled, flopping back into her chair.
"Now let me see if I understand this," Nana said. "You love Chris, and he loves you-- "
"He says he loves me.”
Nana raised her eyebrows. "You don't believe him?"
That brought Melanie up short. “I… I don't know. Todd said he loved me, and look what happened."
"You listen to me, young lady," Nana said, her eyes snapping. "That Todd was nothing but a horse's ass. From all I've seen, Chris is a fine, decent, honest young man. He doesn't strike me as the sort of fella who would tell a girl he loved her if he didn't mean it. But even if he was a crumb-bum, he wouldn't deserve to be compared to that imbecile Todd who turned out to be the flotsam below pond scum."
"But that’s just it, Nana. Todd didn’t start out being flotsam. I didn’t fall in love with flotsam. What if Chris is really flotsam wrapped up in a gorgeous package? I’m clearly not a good judge.”
“You’re a fine judge. And so am I. I’d bet my bottom dollar that Chris is not flotsam.”
“We barely know each other.”
"You've spent the last two weekends with him," Nana observed archly. "Seems to me you should know each other pretty well."
Heat flooded Melanie's race. "Not well enough to be in love."
"Honey, how long do you think it takes to fall in love? A month? A year? Three years?"
"I don't know. I don't trust myself. I thought I was in love before. I can't make that mistake again."
Nana reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "I'll tell you how long it takes to fall in love. It only takes a moment." A faraway look came into her eyes. "I took one look at your Grandpa Will and knew he was the man for me. Luckily, he felt the same way. We'd only known each other three weeks when we got hitched." Her expression cleared. "The only time there's a problem is when you love someone who doesn't love you back. That doesn't appear to be the case."
"You mean, you think he might really love me?"
"If he's half as smart as I think he is, I'm sure he does. He said so, didn't he?"
"And you don't think it's too soon?"
"How long did it take you to fall for him?"
Melanie huffed out a breath. "Only a moment."
"So don't you think the same thing could happen to him?"
"But he t
old me that he'd waited a long time to lead a bachelor life."
"Honey, a man who's determined to remain a bachelor doesn't tell a woman he loves her. It appears he's changed his mind. The question is, what are you going to do about it?" Nana regarded her steadily from wise eyes. "If you're really set on not being involved, you need to tell him. It wouldn't be fair to lead him on.”
But," she added, patting Melanie's hand, "if you decide to come out of your self-imposed exile and give love another chance-- this time with a real man instead of a lying scuzzbucket-- then you need to stop your cryin' and start celebrating. You've found yourself one helluva guy."
"That all sounds fine in theory, but… I'm scared, Nana."
"'Course you are. You should be. But don't throw love away just because it came calling and you weren't ready. Love is ornery. It likes to wait until you least expect it then it jumps up and bites you right on your unsuspecting butt. Never understood people who shy away from love because they might get hurt. So you might get hurt. Do you really think it’s better to feel nothing?”
Melanie pondered that for several seconds. “I suppose not.”
“Of course it’s not. If you wrap your heart in armor, sure you might miss out on some pain, but you’ll also miss out on life’s greatest joy-- love. Take it from an old lady who’s been around the block a few times. Love is like childbirth. It hurts like hell, but in the end it's worth it."
Melanie took a deep breath and pressed a hand to her stomach. She was in love. And it was okay. In fact, it was… wonderful! Chris was kind, honest, and loving. He would never betray her the way Todd had. Hadn't she already realized that she trusted Chris completely? Love didn't mean she had to give up anything. Only share. And sharing with Chris was something to look forward to, not dread.
She cringed, recalling how she'd panicked and practically run away from him when he’d laid his heart out for her. He must have been disappointed. God knows she would have been. And hurt as well. She wanted to call him and tell him she loved him, but she didn't want to tell him over the phone. She glanced at the clock. It was almost midnight. Too late to drive over. And he was going out of town tomorrow.
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