Bringing Home a Bachelor

by Karen Kendall

  Reynaldo’s small black eyes gleamed with malice. “Did I ask you what you think, Pete? No, I did not. I asked you to pass along a message to her, one that comes straight from the producers.”

  “And I’m telling you that I won’t do that, Rafi. It will hurt her unnecessarily and I refuse.”

  His boss’s face turned a mottled red, almost purple. “I’m giving you a direct order!”

  Pete saw his career flash before his eyes. He thought about the horrible economy and how long it might take him to find another decent job. He thought about the possibility that when that job offer came, he might have to move out of Miami to take it.

  Then he thought about Melinda, whom he’d already devastated. He pictured her face as he delivered the message from yet another source that she needed to lose weight in order to please someone. And he made his decision.

  “That’s a direct order that I must respectfully decline to accept.”

  “You are making a very big mistake, my friend.”

  “So be it.”

  “Then you’re fired, Pedro. Comprendes? Fired. Get out.”

  Pete nodded. “I’ll pack my things. And for the last friggin’ time, don’t call me Pedro.”

  Reynaldo picked up the phone on his desk, hit zero, and barked into the receiver. “Security! I need you to escort a man from the premises.”

  Pete opened a couple of desk drawers and removed some personal items. He took the photos of his mother and his college friends off the windowsill. He dropped everything into his computer bag and left the laptop itself on the credenza.

  “Not necessary, Rafi. I’ll leave under my own steam. But just to let you know? I wouldn’t tangle with Ms. Edgeworth and her contract. You may find that she didn’t agree with certain clauses in it, and struck them out.”

  * * *

  MELINDA SAT, POLEAXED, outside Pete’s office as he put an end to his career at Playa Bella—for her. That hadn’t been Mr. Customer Service in there. Not Mr. Professional Suck-Up. Not Mr. Nice Guy.

  That had been a man standing up for the woman he loved, just as he’d stood up for her against her family at Sunday dinner.

  She couldn’t even speak as he walked purposefully out of the room without looking back, his computer bag slung over one shoulder. He never saw her, and she didn’t know how to call him back or what to say.

  But she realized in that moment that he was the One. The man she’d been waiting for all her life had been teasing and tormenting her since junior high. He’d called her names and buried her in the sand and trapped her in a tree house. And somehow, that terrible kid had grown into a good man, and he’d developed true gallantry.

  As Mel watched her white knight make his exit, she could hear the dragon he’d slain for her still floundering around his office. She smiled to herself as she heard him pick up the phone and bark at his attorney to review her contract.

  She stood up as two uniformed security guards surged toward the door. The dragon needed to hear what she had to say.

  Mel walked into Pete’s former office, her head held high. “Mr. Reynaldo, I’d like to say something to you.”

  He gave her a black look. “Not now.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Now. You need to know that I will not change the paint colors or the logo I’ve chosen for the bakery here in Playa Bella. You should also know that I am perfectly satisfied with my looks and my weight, and my opinion is the only one that matters. I will not go on a diet for the cable TV program. I won’t go on a diet for anything, or anyone, except myself—if and when I decide to do so. Are we clear, Mr. Reynaldo?”

  The security guards hovered at the door. Mel was quite sure she’d be leaving between them, each man gripping one of her upper arms and propelling her down the hallway. She waited for Reynaldo to order her off the premises.

  But he simply pulled the cigar from his mouth, growled something under his breath and gave her a blank stare. “Perdón, Ms. Edgeworth, but I do not know what you’re talking about. I do not know what you think you heard, but it wasn’t about you.”

  Melinda should have known. Without an employee to bully and to hide behind, the man was all talk.

  “Why should you lose weight?” Reynaldo asked her, giving her an oily smile and gesturing with his cigar. “You are a lovely young lady with impeccable taste, and we are very fortunate to have you working with us here at Playa Bella.” He took her elbow and escorted her into the hallway, ignoring the security guards. “Walk with me, eh, and let us discuss a few details of your upcoming baking program…”

  26

  PETE HADN’T LEFT the premises. Melinda knew that because his car was still in the parking lot after she finished her nauseating little chat with Reynaldo. Thank God she wouldn’t have to interact with him every day—she’d have her own space and run it as she saw fit. She had a feeling that thanks to Pete, Reynaldo’s lawyer was going to tell him to back off.

  If Pete wasn’t in his office and he wasn’t in the parking lot, then that left two other possibilities. He was either in the bar or walking on the beach.

  Mel headed through the marble-floored lobby with its colossal floral arrangement, past the grand piano and the fountain in the center of the rotunda, and into the dark wood-paneled bar with its leather stools and mounted trophy fish, where there was no sign of Pete.

  She pushed through the double doors that gave access to Playa Bella’s private beach, and there he was, walking along the shore barefoot with his pants rolled up to his knees.

  He’d rolled up the sleeves of his blue business shirt as well, and it flapped, untucked, in the ocean breeze.

  The warm, humid, salt-tinged air washed over her face and she took a moment to appreciate it, along with the sky so blue it almost looked artificial. Not a cloud was in sight, only a few gulls floating on the air currents and basking in the generous rays of the afternoon sun.

  Melinda slipped off her sandals and left them by the hotel doors. As she walked across the sand, her long, flowing skirt flew crazily in the wind, plastered against her legs one moment and lifting above her knees the next.

  There was something elemental about walking in sand; something that reminded her, as her toes slid in and out of it and her heels sank unexpectedly, that life was earthy and uneven, that she had to adapt and shift with it.

  Pete stood with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his gaze fixated on the horizon, and didn’t notice her approach until she reached out and touched his arm.

  “Mel!” he exclaimed, startled. “What are you doing out here?”

  She looked up into those steady, kind gray eyes of his. “Looking for you.”

  “Why?”

  She dug a toe into the sand and smiled. “To ask you to dance.”

  His breath hitched. Clearly he remembered the night of Mark’s wedding; the words he’d said to her on this very beach. He went completely still as his eyes searched her face. Then his own split into a grin. He took a step closer to her and settled his hands on her shoulders. “You forgive me?”

  She shrugged.

  “Mel, I never meant to say yes to that deal with your mother. I’m so sorry—you have to believe me—it wasn’t like that on my part. I figured she could think whatever she wanted, but I’d know the truth.”

  “I do believe you.”

  “And for what it’s worth, she didn’t do it to hurt you. She did it, however bizarre this sounds, to protect you from being hurt.”

  “I know that, now. She’s bent in some weird places, but she didn’t mean any harm.” She reached up to touch his bruised, abraded jaw. “I’m sorry that Mark did this.”

  “Ha,” Pete said. “He looks a lot worse.”

  The old “Have you seen the other guy?” line. Men. “I’m sure he does,” Mel said diplomatically.

  “I do owe you a huge apology, for even seeming to go along with your mother. I owe you one for not telling her to take her functions somewhere else. But the bottom line is that it was business, and my job was to get mo
re of it.”

  “I owe you an apology for assuming the worst,” Mel said slowly.

  They stood for a couple of moments, looking out at the water while the waves lapped at the shoreline. Then Melinda became aware that Pete was studying her. And judging by the bulge at his fly, he liked what he saw.

  She glanced quickly away from his fly, but not quickly enough; he noticed that she’d noticed.

  Pete gave her a wry grin. “What you do to me,” he murmured. “Only you.”

  “If we had somewhere to go, I’d offer to help you with that.”

  “I wish I had a room key,” he said. “But all I’ve got is a pink slip.”

  “I know. I was right outside your office. I heard everything.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Thank you.”

  “Melinda.” He rubbed the back of his neck with evident embarrassment. “That’s totally unnecessary. I hope you know that.”

  “But I need to say it. That’s twice now that you’ve been my hero.”

  “I’m no hero.”

  “To me you are. Pete, I’m so sorry about your job.”

  “I’m not,” he said firmly. “Reynaldo was out of line, he’s sleazy and I’m tired of being his yes-man.”

  She peered up at him, a little shy. “So…want to be mine, instead?”

  Pete laughed. “Is that an offer of employment or an indecent proposal?”

  “Definitely,” said Mel, “an indecent proposal.”

  “All right, then. I accept.”

  He slid his hands up into her hair and cupped her face as he bent to kiss her. She opened to him and welcomed him, pressing all of herself against him without reservation.

  “I love you, Melinda. I love your face, I love your body, I love your heart and your spirit. I even love the way you tore me a new asshole on Sunday night.”

  She let out an awkward laugh. “Oh, Pete. I love you, too.”

  He took her hand and they continued to walk along the shore, feet seeking a path through the shifting sand while the breeze picked up and the sun slipped lower in the sky.

  She could feel Pete’s love for her in the way he squeezed her fingers, the way he brushed flyaway tendrils of her hair out of her eyes, the way he kissed her, ever so gently, with the barest touch of his lips to hers.

  He really did love her.

  And for once, she couldn’t hate her mother for being right.

  Epilogue

  EVER SINCE REYNALDO had thought about the money Pete made him, eaten crow, offered him a raise and asked him to stay, Pete and Melinda had seen blessedly little of the man. He’d moved on to yet another wife and was busy developing another luxury hotel, this one on South Beach.

  All of Mark’s wedding party sat, one year later, at a long white-clothed dinner table on the beach behind Playa Bella, enjoying the sunset, the feel of the sand between their bare toes, and the balmy breeze. The roar of the ocean behind them almost drowned out the congratulatory toasts.

  Pete’s voice held amusement as he said, “To Mark and Kendra on your one-year anniversary. God only knows how she’ll put up with you, Mark, for another year…”

  Mark had the grace to blush, and he caught his very pregnant wife around the waist. He pulled her in for a hug. “Have the rest of my lobster,” he urged her. “You’re eating for two now.” Then he stood up and raised his glass to everyone, while she took him at his word and dug in.

  “Kudos to Adam, our smartest groomsman, for graduating from medical school and getting an internship at M.D. Anderson! Maybe one day, sweet Nikki will make an honest man out of you.”

  “Thanks,” Adam said wryly, and brushed stray sand particles off the lenses of his glasses. “Thank you very much.”

  Nikki laughed, her corkscrew curls wild in the ocean breeze. She’d popped out of Mark’s cake at the bachelor party and into Adam’s life. “I don’t know. I’m pretty busy with my new business, but he could make a good starter husband. We’ll see.”

  “Starter? Starter husband?” Adam dug his fingers into Nikki’s ribs and she fell off her chair laughing and into the sand, as she tried to escape. “That’s keeper husband, babe.”

  “Right! That’s what I meant…”

  Adam released her and brushed off his pants. “Now, where were we?” He fixed his gaze on Devon, who had pulled Kylie into his lap. “Hey! Hands on the table, Dev. We’ll have none of that hanky-panky you’re famous for.”

  “Who, moi?”

  “Yeah, you. We’re all very pissed that you chose to elope to Greece to get married, depriving us of the spectacle of the century, and the bachelor party of the millennium. And we’ll never understand what Kylie sees in you, not ever. But we have arranged, this very night, to get you back for every terrible thing you’ve ever done to us.”

  “Everything?” Dev asked, a mocking grin playing around his mouth.

  “Yep,” Adam reiterated. “Everything. So stand up.”

  Dev stood, cocky as hell, not even bothering to be wary. “Hit me.”

  “Devster, you really need to pay more attention to things going on around you. Why is it, for example, that your wife is drinking ginger ale, not champagne?”

  Dev went a little pale. Then he raised an eyebrow and slowly turned to face Kylie, who aimed a beatific smile at him.

  “And why is it,” Adam continued, “that she has started not one, not two, but three educational trusts at Sol Bank in the last week?”

  Dev blinked. “Th-three?”

  Kylie nodded and held up the appropriate number of fingers.

  Under everyone’s bemused gaze, Dev produced a megawatt smile that displayed every tooth in his head. Then his eyes rolled up and he went over backward in a dead faint.

  “Got ’im!” Pete yelled. “Camera, someone! This is priceless!”

  Since Dev obviously wasn’t going to rise for the next toast, Mark had to fill in while Kendra, who had finished her dessert, ate his, too.

  “So, I want to say congratulations to Pete and Bug-Eyes—”

  Melinda threw her dinner roll at him.

  He ducked. “—oh, excuse me, Melinda—on their engagement.”

  “Hear, hear!” said everyone. “Show off the ring!”

  She obligingly displayed her one-carat, emerald-cut diamond.

  “You know that’s a CZ, Bug-Eyes,” Mark taunted.

  “I can assure you that it’s not.” Pete leaned down and kissed Mel before they both drank to the toast. He whispered, “Sorry, but you don’t get a bottle all to yourself tonight.”

  Mark added, “I’d offer to bake your wedding cake, Mel, but you wouldn’t like the results.”

  Everyone laughed.

  Pete glanced around. “I think that’s the end of the toasts, right? Thank you all for coming this evening…”

  Richard Edgeworth stood up. “Not quite. Jocelyn and I will be celebrating our thirtieth wedding anniversary this April, and we’d like every one of you to save the date.”

  Pete nodded and caught Mel’s hand in his. Her eyes were full of tears as she smiled at her parents and raised her glass. “That’s wonderful, Mom and Dad. So glad to hear it…”

  * * * * *

  ISBN: 9781459227149

  Copyright © 2012 by Karen Moser

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