Meltdown (8 page)

But as he arranged the last of the transparencies on Mrs. Hardcastle’s desk, he remembered again that friendship with someone like Miss Rollins wasn’t an option. He’d spent dozens of hours on this presentation, foregoing sleep, meals, even his morning shave to get it completed. But was she likely to appreciate his monumental effort? Hardly. The woman functioned like a dedicated circuit, totally focused on that jumble of wires and processing chips she’d created. Einstein’s future was the only thing she cared about. Everyone else was, in the words of the computer age, strictly a peripheral.

Not that it mattered to him. Once he showed the
board how valuable Einstein could be to the company, they’d appoint him head of Product Research. Then he could wash his hands of Miss “Should have been born a computer” Rollins once and for—

“Chris?”

“Miss Rollins,” he began, turning toward the office door. He was ready to face the efficient businesswoman, to endure her “strictly business” attitude and the chilling condemnation in her words. He was not prepared for this slight, fragile creature staring at him with wide, questioning eyes. She’d removed her glasses in a quick, uncertain gesture. Without them her hard-edge image had softened into appealing and completely devastating vulnerability. His carefully rehearsed speech died on his tongue.

She stepped into the office and closed the door behind her. “What are you doing here?”

For a moment Chris himself couldn’t remember. His mind focused on other things—her slim arms tapering to graceful hands, the soft fall of her hair around her shoulders, the strong set of her jaw absurdly at odds with the rest of her features. And her lips. Always those lips. Mentally he gave himself a shake. “I, er … wanted your opinion. On my presentation.”

He waved his hand toward the literature displayed on the desk top. She barely gave it a glance, “Oh, Chris, why did you have to come here? Couldn’t you have called me up to your office?”

His mouth hardened. Two seconds in the same room and she was already complaining. The package had changed, not the contents. “Well, excuse me for trying to be a gentleman,” he said, his temper rising. “I thought you’d prefer me coming down to your office than being summoned upstairs like some office vassal. And what difference does it make to you where we meet?”

“It’s not me I’m thinking of. It’s them.” She nodded toward the glass wall of the office. “It makes a difference to them.”

Chris saw what she meant. Beyond the wall dozens of bright, eager eyes focused on the interior of the office. He sat down on the corner of Mrs. Hardcastle’s desk and ran his fingers through his hair. “Now I know how a goldfish feels. What do you think they’re expecting us to do?”

“God only knows,” she answered miserably, staring helplessly at the ceiling.

“Commit murder?” he suggested. “Or perhaps robbery?”

Her gaze returned to his, looking directly into his eyes with a candor that caught him off guard. “I didn’t mean that, Chris. I was just trying to get back at you for eavesdropping. I’m sorry I said it.”

Honesty wasn’t something Chris dealt with on a regular basis. His sales successes depended on figuring out what the other person
wasn’t
telling him as often as what they did. His social relationships regularly mirrored his business experiences, with his dates going to great lengths to hide what they saw as the faults in their natures.

Melanie had her faults, but she never tried to hide them. She faced the world with dead-arrow honesty, a trait she’d passed on to her embarrassingly forthright computer. Ashamed, Chris realized he’d been less than honest with her. “You were right. I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping. And I shouldn’t have just left like I did—”

“Don’t be silly. You had every right.”

“Genius,” he said, smiling, “you’re going to have to learn not to interrupt me. Especially when I’m apologizing. Now tell me what’s been going on. How’s Einstein?”

Melanie’s cautious smile faded into concern. “I’m
worried about him, Chris. He’s not acting at all like himself. He’s becoming more obstinate every day. He argues with me all the time. I don’t know what to do with him.”

Chris remembered his own parents using the exact same phrases to describe him. “Sounds like he’s having growing pains. Just cut him some slack. He’ll come around.”

“You’re probably right, but I wish you’d have a talk with him all the same.” She paused, staring intently at a threadbare patch in the carpet. “He’s missed you a lot.”

“Well, I’ve missed … Einstein a lot,” Chris said. It was half the truth. Why did he find it so difficult to tell the woman he’d missed her too? “I promise to have a long talk with him as soon as I get back.”

Melanie’s head snapped up. “You’re leaving?”

“A buying trip. Dad’s been approached by some fast-talking salesman from Abilene, and wants me to check out his merchandise.” He neglected to add that he’d almost come to blows with his father about having to go.

Melanie turned away, drumming her fingers unevenly on the desk top. “Of course. You must go and protect Sheffield’s interests. It’s only right.” She paused, brushing her hand over the papers on the desk. “It was decent of you to work up the presentation before you left.”

Decent?
Decent was about the last thing he felt at this moment. Melanie was within arm’s length of him, and her proximity jumbled up his insides like a Mixmaster. Tawny tendrils of her unbound hair curled softly around her neck, and he had the most irresistible urge to reach out and wrap one around his finger, pulling her against him with a slow, gentle pressure. He wondered what the data-entry department
would do if he followed his instincts. He wondered what Melanie would do. “Melanie—”

“Tell me about this presentation,” she said, interrupting him before he could finish the rest of his sentence. She put her glasses back on and started wholeheartedly to examine the transparencies. “This is the one you’re giving to the board, isn’t it?”

“Providing you approve.” He didn’t really want to talk about the presentation. He wanted to talk about Melanie, and the way he’d felt when she’d walked into the office. It was as if a broken part in him had suddenly switched back on. He’d missed her. Much as he hated to admit it, he’d honestly missed her.

“Chris, this is really good.”

“Think so?”

“Absolutely. You’ve covered all of Einstein’s major features, but you’ve done it in a way that’s both interesting and easy to understand. It’s incredible. You must have spent hours on it.”

He shrugged. “A couple.”

She gave him an incredulous smile. “You’re such a liar. No one works up a presentation like this in a couple of hours. You must have worked like a dog to get it done.”

“Careful, Miss Rollins. You’re coming dangerously close to complimenting me.”

There was nothing condemning in his tone. Yet her smile softened with a tinge of sadness. “Am I that bad?”

“No,” he said gently, taking her hand. “No.”

He meant the gesture kindly, as friend to friend. But her touch had a much more profound effect on his senses. Her warm, slight hand lay against his like a small bird poised for flight. Her every action echoed in him tenfold. She stilled, and a deep calm filled him. She trembled, and he felt an earthquake.

He stroked her wrist, lingering over the strong, hot
pulse at the base of her hand. Did she feel it, too, this incredible, instantaneous bond between them? Impossible to tell. Her face was shut tight against emotion, and her eyes were unreadable behind those awful glasses. He’d never known a woman so determined to make herself look undesirable. And who was so thoroughly unsuccessful at it. “Melanie—”

He stopped, unsure of what words to use for these strange emotions that filled him. But Melanie read an entirely different message in his pause. She withdrew her hand from his grasp. “You’re right, of course. We’re still on display. Anything between us will be blown out of proportion, even an innocent gesture like holding hands.”

Innocent gesture? There’d been nothing innocent about it as far as Chris was concerned. Apparently, he’d been mistaken. The deep bond he’d felt between them had been nothing more than a mirror of his own emotions. She’d felt nothing. Nothing at all.

His jaw tightened perceptibly. “Why don’t we just pull down the blinds? That would really give them something to talk about.”

Melanie looked at him, amazed. “How can you joke about this? If they even suspected we were romantically involved, I’d never have a moment’s peace. I’m already behind in my work. If I lose any more time, I’ll have to work extra hours, which means more time away from home, which means less time for Einstein.”

Einstein. He should have seen that one coming. Somehow or other her thoughts always came back to that damn computer.

“I’ve got an idea,” she said suddenly. She turned to him, her eyes sparkling as they always did when she fastened her mind on a problem. “Chris, you’ve got to yell at me.”

He’d expected something unusual, not crazy. The
woman was certifiable. “Mind running that one by me again?”

“Yell at me. Pretend to be angry with me.”

“Pretend?”
No acting required there
.

“Yes. Pretend you’re reprimanding me for something. Maybe the others will think you’re here on company business.”

“And maybe pigs fly.”

“Please, Chris,” she said, honestly disturbed. “We have to convince them you’re here on business.”

She stood close to him, close enough for him to see past the barrier of her glasses and into the smoky depths of her eyes. Velvet soft, those eyes showed that part of her she kept hidden from the world: A fragile, breakable part. The part he’d felt so vividly through her hands.

Sucker, he thought. Not that name-calling did a bit of good. “Okay,” he said with a sigh. “What do you want me to do?”

She smiled, cautiously, for fear their audience would see. “Just head for the door. When you open it, pretend you’re reprimanding me. The more official the better.”

Chris got up and walked toward the door, his lack of enthusiasm blatantly apparent. He didn’t give a damn what the data-entry operators thought. But Melanie did. The sober truth was that what was important to her was beginning to become important to him. Not wise, considering how little he meant to her. Perhaps if he showed up at her house wearing a few circuit boards and some wires …

“Psst. Chris. You’re smiling.”

“Sorry,” he said, schooling his expression back to a stern frown. This was insane. How could anyone seriously believe he could reprimand Melanie? He didn’t believe it himself.

“Remember, you’re supposed to be angry with me.”

“I
know
,” Chris said. She was so … what was the word she used to describe Einstein? Obstinate. What she needed was a good dose of excitement. And he was just the man to give it to her. He turned away from the glass wall and smiled brightly. A little too brightly.

Melanie caught the look. “Hey, what are you going to say to them?”

His smile deepened. He’d teach her not to think of him as a peripheral. He opened the door and said loudly, “You’ve been warned, Miss Rollins. I won’t tolerate any more of your reprehensible behavior. There are morals laws in this country. Not to mention the SPCA.”

Were there graphics?

“Yes, there were graphics.”

And colored transparencies?

Melanie checked the voltage calibrator and made note of Einstein’s load variance. “There were transparencies too. E, I’ve already told you all about Chris’s presentation.”

Tell me again. Must verify data
.

Melanie smiled. E had asked to “verify the data” at least twenty times. She rolled up the sleeves on her work blouse and attacked the hard-wired circuitry of the CPU tower unit and Einstein’s request at the same time. E’s mood had improved geometrically since she’d told him about the presentation two days ago. She’d barely been able to coax three words out of him before that; now he was chattering away like a telex machine. His newfound happiness more than made up for the tedium of his incessant questions. Chris’s presentation had done more to lift E’s spirits—and hers—than all the spare parts in the world.

Not that that let him off the hook. She’d spent the
rest of Wednesday and most of Thursday fending off questions from the people in the data-entry department. Everyone wanted to know what she’d done that was so appalling it could shock Casanova Sheffield. Thankfully, by Friday morning the hubbub had died down. But as far as Melanie was concerned Chris still had a lot to answer for. And she intended to even the score.

She closed the back of Einstein’s tower unit, wiping oil from her hands. Some of the oil spotted her blouse and skirt, making her regret that she hadn’t taken the time to change after work. Still, she couldn’t let it bother her. These clothes would join the rest of her ruined outfits in the back of her closet. They were a small price to pay for Einstein’s success.

She wondered what Chris would think if he saw her looking like this. He probably wouldn’t even notice. Chris thought of her as an extension of Einstein—if he thought of her at all. Besides, he was somewhere in west Texas, probably adding some little cowgirl to his long list of conquests. The thought brought an unexpected ache to her heart.
Come on
, she told herself.
You’ve got to get past this adolescent infatuation
.

Do you miss Chris?

“Like a toothache,” she said with more confidence than she felt.

Einstein took a moment to ponder her answer, then whirred his dish antennae in a quick circle.
I get it. Joke. Funny
.

“Not funny,” Melanie corrected, sitting down in front of the monitor. “And to answer your question. No. I don’t miss him at all.”

Bet he misses you
.

Melanie frowned at the message on the screen. Instinctively she glanced at Einstein’s status readout, checking to see that all his nodes were functioning.

“E, how long since we’ve done a maintenance overhaul on your transponders?”

You’re changing subject
, the computer accused.
You always change subject when talk about Chris
.