Meltdown (13 page)

Too bad he hadn’t thought to stock his refrigerator with oysters on the half shell and spicy sauce.

* * *

Chris paced his living room like a caged tiger. He’d spent three hours alone with Melanie—three hours of trying every method short of physical assault to get her attention. And for three hours she’d been glued exclusively to Einstein’s terminal, staring at that collection of amps and wires as if it were God’s gift. He’d never felt so frustrated.

He tried not to take it personally. Melanie had devoted several years of her life to her computer; he’d devoted two weeks. Naturally she’d want to check the test results, to make sure Einstein’s remote functions would be perfect for the presentation to his father and the rest of the board on Wednesday. But the only time she acknowledged his existence this morning was when she needed him to replace a wire, or realign the audio pickup, or perform some other, equally trivial task. She treated him as if he were some menial stooge, incapable of doing anything that required thought or skill.

Despite himself his doubts resurfaced. He’d spent a lifetime enduring that kind of attitude from his father. He didn’t need it from Melanie too.

Sighing, he stopped pacing and looked over at her. Her back was to him, giving him ample opportunity to take in the soft, rounded lines of her figure. Even dressed in a shapeless blouse and an ankle-length skirt, her body had the power to stir him.

Physical assault was beginning to look very attractive.

“Chris?”

What did she need this time? A new transistor? A restrung wire? “Yes?”

“I think I’m finished.”

Finished
. Chris had been waiting all morning to hear that magic word. From now on the day was his.
He’d planned every minute of it during the long silence of the morning. There was so much he wanted to share with Melanie, things he hadn’t shared with anyone in a long time. He wanted to show her the gulls’ nests in the Audubon Sanctuary and the rock jetty where the bright fish schooled. He’d show her the ancient tide marker where he’d carved his initials as a child, the wandering sandbar, and the—

“And now that I’m finished, you can take me home.”

“Home? But, you can’t leave yet.”

Melanie paused, looking at him over her glasses. “Why not?”

Why not? Because there’s a world I want to share with you
, Chris thought.
Because I want you to see me as a man, not as the Sheffield executive, or Einstein’s parts supplier
.

Chris drew a deep breath, striving for balance. “Melanie, it is a beautiful day outside. It would be … illogical to waste it. We ought to go swimming. Or something.”

Melanie looked out of the picture window at the luminous blue of the sea. Her wiser senses argued against staying, but she did love the ocean, and it had been a long time since she’d been to the beach. “It
is
lovely outside,” she agreed. “But I’m afraid I can’t go swimming. I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”

“Not a problem,” Chris said.
This
situation he’d planned for. He picked up the package he’d bought at Ron Jon’s and tossed it to Melanie. “Surprise.”

Melanie turned the package over in her hands, looking at it with undisguised distrust. “What is it?”

“If I tell you, it wouldn’t be a surprise,” Chris said, baffled by her actions. Anyone would think he’d handed her a poisonous snake instead of a present. “Just open it, will you?”

She did and pulled out the swimsuit he’d bought for her at the beach shop. Paula had assured him that it was simple enough to please the most conservative taste. Melanie, however, continued to look as if he’d handed her a smoking gun.

Enough was enough. “Okay, genius. What gives?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“The hell you don’t. The temperature in this room just dropped below freezing. What’s wrong?”

She turned her face away from him and started to trace the letters on E’s keyboard. “Nothing’s wrong. You’re imagining things.”

Einstein’s screen flashed to life.
Disagree. Voice modulation indicates 87% chance of fraudulent response
.

“What is this? A conspiracy?”

For once Chris was grateful for Einstein’s presence. “E’s just concerned about you. So am I.”

“I’ll bet.”

The resentment in her voice took him by surprise. What did she have to be angry about? He was the one who’d been ignored. “Would you mind telling me what the hell’s going on? What’s bugging you?”

Melanie turned to him, her dark eyes flashing with rage. Chris’s throat contracted. Animated by anger, his little mouse was one powerfully beautiful woman.

“Bugging me? I’ll tell you what’s bugging me. I didn’t stay in the car at Ron Jon’s. I looked through the window and saw you.”

“Okay, you saw me in Ron Jon’s. So what?”

Melanie looked at him as if he were mentally deficient. “I saw you with that salesgirl.”

The pieces began to fit together in Chris’s mind, but he was still a long way from solving the puzzle. “You saw me and Paula. Like I said before, so what?”

“So what? So you were hugging her. You were
laughing together, and whispering things in her ear—” Melanie stopped a beat to collect herself. “I may not have much experience with men, but I do know when I’m being made a fool of.”

The puzzle came together in a rush. It all made sense—her sudden anger, her cold, distant behavior.
Lord, I’m an idiot
, Chris thought. “Melanie,” he said, smiling for the first time since they’d arrived at his house, “you’re jealous.”

“Jealous?” Melanie sputtered. “Why you conceited, egotistical … I might have known you’d say something like that. It’s just what I’d expect from a man with your reputation.”

“Reputation?”

“I’ve heard the stories,” Melanie said, her hands bunching and rebunching the swimsuit material. “Working at Sheffield you can’t help hearing them. You go through women like … like a hungry dog at a meat counter. Well, that approach may work with women like Lily and that little bimbo at Ron Jon’s, but it doesn’t impress me in the least.”

Chris’s smile died. “You believed those stories?”

“I believe the evidence of my own eyes,” she stated. “You delayed Einstein’s testing to make a pass at that Ron Jon’s salesgirl. I think that pretty well sums things up.”

“Not quite,” Chris countered, his voice tight with anger. “Sorry to contradict that superbrain of yours, but I wasn’t making a pass at that salesgirl. I wouldn’t. She’s my cousin.”

Melanie’s jaw dropped. “Your—”

“Cousin,” repeated Chris. “My
married
cousin, in case you have any remaining doubts. She’s about your size and helped me pick out that suit.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so angry. He’d spent the whole morning doubting himself. And why? Because of Melanie’s insecurities.

Melanie opened her mouth to speak, but Chris cut her off. “I don’t want to hear it. All I want to do now is get out of this room and go for a swim. You want to go home—call a cab. No doubt you’d feel safer with some taxi driver than with a ‘hungry dog’ like me.”

He dove into the surf, relishing the shock of cold water against his too hot skin. His eyes burned with the sting of salt, and his tongue tasted the sea’s bitter edge. He raced out toward deeper water, stretching every muscle to its physical limit to get away from the land. Away from Melanie.

He’d been hard on her. Too hard, perhaps. He knew what the office gossips said about him, how he had the sexual morals of a stallion in heat and changed women more often than he changed ties. All he had to do was say hello to a girl, and the gossips had him in bed with her. They didn’t know that he hadn’t looked at another woman in months. They didn’t know it had been over a year since he’d invited a woman to his home. No, they just made up stories about him and passed them on as gospel truth.

He could understand how Melanie had gotten the wrong impression about him. That didn’t mean he forgave her.

His arms were getting tired. He turned back, thinking ruefully that there wasn’t much to go back to. Not anymore. By now Melanie’d be halfway home, probably using the quiet of the cab to make a mental inventory of his faults. No doubt insincerity would be high on the list, followed closely by stubbornness.

The day couldn’t have turned out worse if he had planned on it. He’d brought Melanie to his house to let her know how special she was to him. Instead she’d seen him with Paula, and jumped to the conclusion that she was just another weekend conquest.
The stories she’d heard supported that conclusion.

Still, she should have had
some
faith in him. She should have trusted him enough to know he wasn’t a wolf out on the prowl. She might have to listen to the gossips, but she didn’t have to believe them. They didn’t know him as she did.

Chris’s feet touched bottom. He walked to the edge of the water and collapsed onto the warm, yielding sand. He threw his arm across his eyes, trying to relax, but his mind kept spinning. He kept seeing the hurt in Melanie’s eyes when he’d sarcastically called her “superbrain.” Damn those gossips, he thought, his mouth forming into a tight line. And damn Melanie for believing them.

“Chris?”

She hadn’t left! His spirits rose, but he quickly suppressed them. She could be sticking around just to continue their argument, and the last thing he wanted was another confrontation. He didn’t move or answer her. Maybe she’d think he was asleep.

“I know you’re not asleep,” she said, spoiling that idea.

He heard her pad across the sand and kneel down beside him. “Some pirate you are. Telling your victim to take a cab home.”

He didn’t want to smile. He didn’t want her to be so important to him, emotionally and physically. Even now he could feel the warmth of her, smell her rich, feminine scent. The woman worked like a drug on his senses, drawing him to her in spite of his better judgment. He sighed. “What do you want, Melanie?”

“I want to apologize.”

He lifted his arm from his eyes and turned his head to face her. She continued, running her words together as if she couldn’t get them out fast enough. “I acted like a jerk. I had no right to say what I did. I
mean, even if you were dating that girl it was none of my—Chris, are you all right?”

“All right” was a relative term. Melanie had put on the swimsuit he’d bought for her, and what she did to it defied description. Following his instructions, Paula had picked out one of the store’s most discreet styles: a black, simply cut one-piece with bright yellow panels on either side. A matching yellow zipper down the front was the only decoration.

The suit was appropriately conservative. There was just nothing conservative about the body in it.

“Melanie, you look … great.”

“Do I?” she said, smiling shyly. “I wasn’t sure. I looked in the mirror, and I think it bunches up a little around the—”

“Trust me, you look great.”

Her smile deepened. “You know you’ve been saying that a lot lately.”

Chris returned her smile, also remembering their earlier conversation. He’d told her he’d keep on saying it until she believed it. True, she’d fallen short of trusting him. But he hadn’t carried through on his promise either.

He reached out his hand and traced the line of her jaw. “Do you trust me now?” he asked.

Melanie’s heart constricted. Chris’s eyes, so cold before, now burned with unmistakable desire. Her whole body ached to return that desire and the invitation of his simple, teasing touch. Mesmerized, she nodded.

“Good,” he said softly, “because … the last one in makes lunch.”

By the time he heard her sputtered oath he was halfway to the water.

“You cheated.”

“Did not. I was just using every available means to attain my objective.”

“In other words, you cheated,” Melanie said, continuing to dice the luncheon ham. Chris watched as she pushed back the sleeves of her loose blouse, the one she had put on when they’d come in from swimming. The disguise didn’t fool Chris. The sight of Melanie’s enticing figure was burned into his mind. A tent couldn’t have concealed her desirable curves from his memory.

He reached across the counter and helped himself to a piece of cheese from the julienne salad she was making. “Umm. This is pretty good for a scientist. You should make lunch more often.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” she said dryly.

Chris grinned. Teasing Melanie was quickly eclipsing golf as his favorite sport. She tried to appear so annoyed, but she couldn’t quite manage to keep that one corner of her mouth from twitching. Much more fun than golf. He reached out his hand to steal another tidbit.

Melanie had just finished putting another handful of luncheon meat on the salad. Their hands brushed accidentally, the brief contact tantalizing Chris with promises of things to come. It wasn’t enough. Greedily he reached out and captured her hand, stroking his thumb across the warm, sensitive base of her palm. He could feel the erratic beat of her pulse, which matched the heady pounding of his own heart. Something was happening inside him—inside both of them. Absently he remembered there was one sport he enjoyed even more than golf.

“I … I guess I’m done with the salad.”

Chris heard the unspoken message in her words. Caution. Confusion. Emotions out of balance. Inwardly he smiled.
Good
. The more out of balance he kept her, the more likely she was to forget about that damn machine of hers. She’d checked Einstein twice since they’d come back from swimming, and would’ve checked him again if Chris hadn’t threatened to unplug him.

Gently he released her hand. They had the rest of the afternoon ahead of them, and he’d promised himself he wasn’t going to rush her. If it killed him, he wasn’t going to rush her. “Let’s dig in,” he said, picking up the bowl and carrying it out to the dining room. “I’m famished.”

He neglected to add for what.

Melanie watched him turn away, using the private moment to steady her trembling nerves. She leaned her head against the cool surface of the refrigerator, hoping the temperature change would shock some sense into her. It didn’t. The heat of Chris’s touch melted through her like liquid fire. Hopeless, that’s what she was. A pushover for the seduction technique of Casanova Sheffield.