A Hopeful Heart and A Home, A Heart, A Husband Page 13

  By six o’clock, Melanie was beginning to doubt her intelligence in agreeing. Here she was swathed in black silk, and Mitch hadn’t even come home yet, let alone showered or changed. She flicked through the channels on his big-screen TV three times before tossing the remote onto the sofa.

  By quarter after the appointed hour, Melanie had decided to change into jeans and a T-shirt and forget the whole thing. It was a mistake to court trouble. She knew what Mitch was like. Unreliable came to mind. As did pushy and stubborn.

  It was just that he was the best kisser she had ever met. Unbidden, the images floated through her mind of the first time he had visited her apartment and the way that evening had ended. And then at work, she remembered his comforting arms and the gentle coaxing kiss that had caused such internal uproar.

  Firmly, Melanie dislodged the picture. She had no defense when his lips touched hers. And defenses were what she would need. She wasn’t going to be swayed into a relationship with the man simply because they shared an apartment. Even if he was inordinately handsome and had allowed Hope to stay without saying a word of reprimand.

  There was a strong smell of roses, and Melanie sniffed. Opening her eyes, she found Mitch squatting in front of her, holding out a beautiful bouquet of barely opened yellow roses. Melanie reached out to take them, burying her face in their sweet fragrance.

  “You,” she breathed, looking into his electric blue eyes, “are late.”

  “And you are welcome.” He grinned his seductive smile. “You could thank me properly,” he teased, pulling her out of the chair and into his arms. His hands pressed into the curve of her waist, belted above her jeans. He glanced down and his blue eyes widened to indigo orbs of admiration.

  “Wow.” He whistled. “You look very, uh, nice.”

  Melanie burst out laughing. He was trying, she would give him that. She curtsied. “Thank you, sir.”

  When his eyes darkened appreciatively, Melanie avoided his eyes and moved away to pull the silk wrap across her bare arms. Carefully she slipped her feet into the black heels she had chosen especially for tonight. A tiny black bag completed her outfit. She turned to face Mitch.

  “I’m ready if you are.” Her voice was husky as she took in the mouthwatering view of Mitchel Stewart in a black tuxedo. Long, tall and lean, he suited it perfectly. Even the black cummerbund at his waist and the pristine bow tie suited him.

  “I think I might whistle myself,” she murmured, wrapping her arm through his. He flashed his white teeth in a smile guaranteed to knock her socks off before brushing the ever-present lock of dark hair off his forehead.

  “When did you get home?” she demanded. His behavior made her reverse all those terrible convictions she’d been reciting.

  “Oh, I’ve been around, waiting for you.” He had the look of a fox about to pounce on a poor innocent little mouse, she decided, mesmerized by his electric eyes. “Shall we?” he asked and Melanie strolled with him through the door and down to his waiting car. She eyed it with distrust before sliding in.

  “I don’t have my tool kit. Are you sure we’ll get there in this thing?” she asked, gingerly doing up her seat belt. “That’s the problem with these cars. They’re all looks and no stamina.”

  He frowned down at her.

  “Just because there was one little problem with my car does not mean you have to—” He stopped abruptly when Melanie raised her hands.

  “I surrender. White flag. Sorry.” She grinned at him, winking. “Let’s call a truce. Just for tonight. Battle lines resume tomorrow.”

  And they did manage to discuss a few personal topics during the evening without coming to blows.

  The restaurant was a new one, and Melanie eyed its sumptuous interior with wide eyes. The huge room glowed romantically in the subtle lights, silverware gleaming and immaculate linen perfectly folded. Handsome young men stood waiting on the sidelines in their black suits with crisply pressed shirts. In the background, a pianist added to the general ambience.

  Melanie sighed in satisfaction as she pushed away her plate much later.

  “I will never eat again,” she pledged solemnly. “The salmon was excellent. And those tiny potatoes. Mmm.” She smiled across the table at Mitch. “Everything was perfect.”

  Her plate was whisked away. Seconds later Kramer, their waiter, returned with a dessert tray that swept away all her good intentions. Mitch immediately chose the French silk pie while Melanie took her time drooling over everything before deciding on the lemon pistachio cheesecake.

  “Do you come here often?” she asked, closing her eyes as her taste buds reacted to the sensational flavor.

  When there was no answer, she opened her eyes to find him staring at her. Melanie tried to fill the silence gaping between them.

  “I can see why you swim if you drop in here frequently. There have to be about seven thousand calories in this sliver.” She shrugged. “And it’s worth every one.”

  “No, I’ve never been here before,” Mitch answered. “And I know what you mean. I don’t think thirty laps is going to kill off this pie.” Suddenly he grinned. “We’ll have to think of something else.”

  Melanie’s face colored as she considered kissing those lips again. Not that she would, but it was an interesting thought. Still, she refused to be baited into voicing those very personal thoughts.

  “You mean dancing?” she asked innocently.

  Mitch kept grinning. That, of course, prompted thoughts of the two of them together as a couple. To her dismay, that wasn’t such a terrible picture at all.

  “You seem to have settled into the apartment okay,” he said quietly.

  “Do I?” She laughed nervously. “I have to tell you, I still feel strange. It’s a bit like lying to get something and then watching everything you say and do so you don’t trip yourself up. That’s the part that keeps bothering me.” She shifted uneasily. “If there was another way to get that money for Sunset, believe me, I’d take it. Besides, they did say we were winners and sent the letters out, so I’m not trying to swindle anyone.” She sighed.

  “It is strange, though. The entry form said Sunset’s address for both of us. I can’t imagine how I made such a mistake.”

  “It’s baffling, all right, but then the whole thing has been downright bizarre from the very beginning.” His voice was low and full of something. What was it? Humor?

  They lingered over coffee, enjoying the hauntingly familiar music and the mellow flavor of perfectly roasted Colombian beans. Melanie sat gazing at the couples moving slowly around the shining parquet floor before Mitch finally asked the question she’d been waiting for.

  “Would you like to dance?”

  “Yes.” She rose from her chair with alacrity. “Remember, though, I’m not very good at dancing. Still, it shouldn’t be too difficult. Everyone is just swaying to the music.” And holding their partner in their arms, her subconscious whispered.

  “Not difficult at all,” he murmured as he pulled her a little closer against his chest. Melanie drew in a breath of air and held it as his hand slid down her back.

  They moved slowly around the dance floor, brushing occasionally against the other couples. For once Melanie allowed herself to relax and enjoy the sensation. After all, what could happen with all these people around?

  Which was probably how she came to find herself cradled in Mitch’s strong arms as they swayed together on the terrace. She could smell the fragrant lily of the valley blooming in the pots nearby. And the delicate scent of gypsophila in full flower, growing wild around the edge of the brick patio, carried its heavy perfume through the night air.

  “Isn’t it a beautiful night?” she whispered, gazing at the star-studded sky. “It’s nights like this when it’s difficult for me to believe that anyone would think God doesn’t exist. You can see so much beauty in His creation.”

  She felt Mitch’s hands in her hair.

  “There’s beautiful and then there is beautiful,” he murmured, sliding the ebon
y combs that held the upswept curls in place. With a swish they fell in a cascade of russet, tumbling wildly around her bare shoulders. One fat ringlet curved against the end of his index finger and clung there.

  “You have beautiful hair, Melanie. It’s so soft and silky.” He buried his face in the gleaming tresses as his hands raked through the curls. One finger gently lifted a lock, and he replaced it with his lips.

  “Your skin is like satin,” he murmured, trailing a path upward to the pulsing cord in her neck.

  Melanie couldn’t say a word. Her breath was trapped somewhere between her throat and her mouth as she stood silent under his tender caress.

  When at last his lips covered hers, she answered his question with all her pent-up longings, holding him closely as she ran her fingers down his hard, smooth back.

  “Ah, young lovers. How sweet.”

  The mocking tones of an elderly woman watching them from the terrace grated on her nerves, and Melanie pulled away from Mitch abruptly. His body shielded her from their visitors, and Melanie used the opportunity to gather her hair in some semblance of its earlier style. Her fingers shoved the combs in roughly, stabbing her scalp with their sharp points.

  In an effort to break the tension crackling between them, Melanie glanced at her watch, searching for something mundane to say. She was stunned to see it was already eleven.

  “Good gracious.” Her voice sounded suddenly breathless. She wondered if he knew she had been daydreaming about them. “I’ve got to get in early tomorrow. Would you mind if we left now?”

  Reluctantly, Mitch guided her to their table. He shoved his credit card into his wallet before lifting her shawl from the chair.

  “How much earlier do you have to get up?” he asked dourly, obviously envisioning being awakened in the wee morning hours. “You’re already up before the birds.”

  “Don’t worry,” she told him gaily as he wrapped her shawl about her shoulders. “I won’t wake you.”

  “Yeah, right.” It was very faint, but Melanie clearly heard the muttered response. She wisely left the remark alone.

  They rode home silently, except for the soft jazz sounds playing on the car’s CD. For once Melanie didn’t mind the music, letting it flow around her like a blanket. As they neared the apartment block, Melanie turned toward Mitch.

  “Thank you again for a lovely evening,” she told him sincerely. “I think I understand that legal brain of yours a little better now after listening to some of those college stunts.”

  Mitch snorted derisively. His dark eyes widened as he grinned at her.

  “Somehow, I think that is a dubious compliment from a woman who rigged a wheelchair to collapse while her instructor demonstrated its use.”

  Melanie shrugged, widening her eyes to stare innocently up at him.

  “Can I help it if I’m mechanical?” Her tones were the sweet, honeyed ones she used in the boardroom. They hadn’t gained her much sympathy there, either, she reflected as Mitch’s derisive tones followed her.

  “Poor little thing!”

  Mitch unlocked the apartment door and ushered her inside. Hope was nowhere to be seen. Melanie slipped out of her heels and curled her toes in the plush carpet. Suddenly the silence between them gaped uncomfortably.

  “Uh, well, good night. And thanks again.” Even to herself, Melanie knew she sounded like an embarrassed schoolgirl.

  “Melanie.” Mitch’s deep voice urged her to stay even as his hand on her arm stopped her flight. Dark and brooding, his eyes moved across her face.

  “I enjoyed being with you, Melanie. I’m glad we could share tonight.” His voice was softly sensuous in the quiet apartment. “I want you to know that I enjoy having you as my roommate.”

  Mitch slid his hands up her arms slowly. His voice continued to surround her like a thick, numbing fog.

  “I’m sorry I’ve been such a bear to live with. Forgive me?” He bent his head low enough to press a tiny kiss to the rapidly pulsing cord along her neck.

  Melanie gulped, searching for the right words. It was hard to think with Mitch’s spicy after-shave tickling her nose, reminding her. She finally muttered, “I like you, too,” but her voice was squeaky. Probably because his hands were tangling in her hair, massaging her tingling scalp in a way that made Melanie’s knees go rubbery. That misty voice was covering her in a haze of longing that begged for more of his touch.

  His soft lips pressed a tiny caress to the corner of her mouth as Melanie felt his arms go round her. Then he was kissing her harder. And she was kissing him back.

  It was crazy, Melanie thought. She couldn’t get involved with this man. She had things to do. A mission. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let herself relax just a bit. “This can’t be so wrong, can it?” she asked herself.

  “I have wanted to do this for so long,” Mitch told her. His hands slipped over the smooth skin of her arms, transmitting little sparks all along the way. “You have beautiful hair,” he breathed, his hands moving up to luxuriate in the strands he’d loosened.

  “Oh, Melanie,” he murmured, “I knew a date with you would be sheer torture.” His lips took hers once more in a kiss that threatened to send Melanie to outer space.

  And somewhere, in her deepest thoughts, she relayed a message heavenward. Oh, Lord, if this is wrong; if You don’t want this, please tell me now.

  Eons later—or was it only seconds—Melanie became drowsily aware that Mitch had stopped the gentle, tender movements of his hands. She lifted her head when he moved away from her, chilled by the cool air of the apartment on her skin. Dimly she heard a buzzing sound, but her befuddled senses couldn’t seem to identify the source.

  Mitch pushed the shiny auburn strands off her shoulders and pressed a tiny kiss to the corner of her mouth.

  “Someone has incredibly bad timing,” he muttered, frowning. “I guess we should be thankful it wasn’t Hope and that she didn’t burst right in.” Muttering dire predictions, he stalked to the door and swung it open, ready to lambaste the intruder. Instead his mouth hung open in amazement. Not a word left his lips.

  Their visitor, on the other hand, suffered no such affliction. She wedged her tiny jeans-clad form through the narrow opening Mitch’s body allowed and stood facing Melanie. Her gamine features were enhanced by the short, spiky black hair that framed her face. Deep blue eyes crinkled when she smiled, standing on tiptoes to kiss his chin.

  Then she strode to Melanie and thrust out her hand.

  “Hi,” she greeted her brightly. “You must be Melanie. I’m Sara. Mitch’s ex.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Oh, Father, I need Your help.”

  Melanie prayed desperately for the floor to cave in. Since it didn’t, she decided to brazen it out. If this was God’s answer, it was a pretty clear one. She felt disoriented, confused. She’d been on cloud nine. Now she slammed into old terra firma with a vengeance. She should have known better than to expect someone who looked like Mitch to be free and available, and indisputably she should have known he wouldn’t be interested in her, plain, boring Melanie.

  Melanie felt exposed, her desire for this man revealed for this interloper to see. It was humiliating to realize how much she had wanted him to be Mr. Right, and now to see how little she obviously meant to him.

  Although she knew her lips bore the imprint of his kisses, Melanie decided to leave the room with as much dignity as she could muster. She also decided to get out of her outfit. Maybe some of the embarrassment would fall away with a change of clothes.

  “I’ll leave you two alone, then,” she murmured, moving toward her bedroom. “Good night.” The quiet words took every ounce of pride she had left.

  “Sara,” Mitch exploded as soon as Melanie had closed the door. “What in the world are you doing here?” His tone was not welcoming.

  “Breaking up a cozy little tête-à-tête, by the looks of it.” Sara grinned unrepentantly. She shook one finger at him. “Living together? Mitchel Stewart, I am aghast and dis
mayed that you’ve dropped your standards.”

  Mitchel could have cheerfully strangled her, but he sighed deeply and decided instead to find out what had made this visit so necessary. Sara’s surprises were well-known. But first things first, he resolved.

  He’d watched Melanie’s face when Sara had dropped her bombshell, and Mitch knew he would have to talk to her. He had no intention of letting Melanie go that easily. Why, he wasn’t sure, but it was somehow important that she know he hadn’t been lying to her, that she was the woman he’d wanted to be with this evening.

  After settling Sara with a cup of coffee at the kitchen counter, he knocked loudly on Melanie’s door and then, when he heard her tell him to go away, disobeyed and opened it.

  She was standing in front of her closet arranging the black dress on a padded hanger. Her makeup had been removed, and her long hair hung in loose waves down her back. He noticed she was swathed head to toe in flannelette. The sight had a ridiculously unsettling effect on him. It was her face that caught his attention, however. It was pinched and white. Her huge green eyes stared at him, pools of color in her wan complexion.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea—”

  He cut her off. “Well, tough, because I do.” In two strides he reached her. Gently he fastened a hand around her arm. “Sit down for a minute, Melanie. I want to talk to you about Sara.”

  “None of this is any of my business,” she murmured, trying to pull away.

  Mitch wasn’t having any. He would blasted well nip this in the bud. He grimaced. Then maybe they could go back to where they were before Sara had thrown a wrench into things. Much as he hated disclosing his personal life, Sara’s arrival had left him little choice.

  “Melanie, Sara isn’t my ex-wife, she’s my ex-sister. Sort of.” He could see disbelief cloud the clear green of her eyes, and he rushed to explain.

  “My mother was married to Sara’s father when we were kids. They got a divorce before they killed each other, thank heavens. But when each of them got married again and we were split up, Sara was heartbroken.” He took a deep breath. It was still painful seventeen years later.