"Good idea. I'm starved." He took her hand and led her to the kitchen. She spent the next twenty minutes helping Chris's mom, who insisted on being called Lorna, with the final dinner preparations. Lorna was very impressed with Melanie's culinary expertise, and before long they were exchanging cooking tips. The kitchen was lively and fun, with Chris's sisters joining in and teasing her about her name.
"We almost fainted when Chris said Mel Gibson was coming over," they reported with a laugh.
Their banter carried on all through dinner. After consuming a veritable wagonload of hamburgers, hot dogs, and salads, everyone sat in lawn chairs under the shade of a huge weeping willow. They were just finishing dessert when Nana leaned over and poked Melanie in the ribs.
"Who's the hunk?" she whispered out of the side of her mouth, jerking her head in the direction of a distinguished gentleman walking toward them.
Melanie shook her head. "Don't know."
The "hunk" turned out to be Bernie Sinclair, the Bishops' next-door neighbor. He pulled up a chair, and Melanie was amused to notice how adroitly Nana maneuvered her chair around until she and Bernie sat next to each other. Within ten minutes they were chatting like old buddies. Within an hour, Nana and Bernie rose, announcing that they were leaving.
"Bernie knows a great little place that plays forties tunes and serves two-for-one margaritas," Nana declared. She thanked Chris and his family for their hospitality and said her good-byes. When she hugged Melanie, she whispered, "Don't wait up!"
"Actually, I should be going, too," Melanie said to Chris after Nana left.
She thought she detected disappointment in his eyes, but he said, "Okay."
After gathering her things, Melanie said good-bye to Chris's family. His sisters hugged her, and little Amanda attached herself to Melanie's leg like a burr. Lorna kissed both her cheeks and enveloped her in a Chanel-scented bear hug. When Lorna invited her to come back anytime, Melanie blinked back the tears pricking her eyes. They were all so nice and had made her feel so welcome.
But her one date with Christopher Bishop was over.
And she knew she'd never see any of them again.
Twenty minutes later, after a car ride filled with awkward silences, Melanie breathed a sigh of relief when Chris parked the Mercedes in front of her house. Now all she had to do was say good-bye to him. That was the plan. No problem. Piece of cake. She turned to bid him a fond adieu, but before she could open her mouth he said, "Looks like Nana's found herself a boyfriend."
Diverted from her plan, Melanie asked, "Bernie isn't married, is he?"
Chris shook his head. "Widower. His wife passed away three years ago after a long illness. He's a great guy. He's lived next door for as long as I can remember. Since his wife's death, he's been very lonely."
"My Grandpa Will, Nana's husband, died eight years ago. Nana's so lively and vibrant. And alone. It would be great if she could find a nice man to spend some time with."
"And what about her granddaughter?" Chris asked, his eyes dark and probing. "Is she looking for a nice man to spend some time with?"
Melanie looked at her lap. This was her opportunity to tell him. Tell him that she had no room in her life for him. She raised her gaze and forced herself to say the words.
"Look, Chris-"
"Uh-oh. That doesn't sound good."
"You're a great guy, and I had a lot of fun today, but-"
"I don't think I'm gonna like what comes next. Stuff that comes after 'but' is generally not good."
She raked her hands through her hair. "I just don't have time for this. For you. For anyone. The Pampered Palate already takes all my time and energy, and I'm planning to expand. I'm determined to see my business succeed. All my money, all Nana's money is tied up in it. I can't afford to fail.
"To be perfectly blunt," she continued in a rush, "I don't want my attention diverted by a relationship that will eventually die from lack of attention. Then I'll not only have a failed business, but a broken heart on my hands. I've already had my heart broken once. Believe me, once is enough."
"I can understand that," he said in a quiet voice. "My schedule is bad, too. I have to travel a lot, and I've been putting in twelve-, fourteen-hour days for so long, it seems normal. And since I made partner, it's even worse." He reached across the seat and squeezed her hand. "But I'm willing to make time for something important." His eyes probed hers in a way that sent her pulse skittering. "I'm willing to make time for you."
Her heart flipped over in her chest. He wasn't supposed to say these things. He was supposed to say fine, great, gotta do my bachelor thing, see ya, have a nice life.
"There are only so many hours in a day, Chris."
"I know. And since I met you, you've been on my mind every single one of them. I didn't want it, I can't explain it, but there it is." He squeezed her hand and smiled at her. "Hey, relax. All I'm suggesting is that we get to know each other better. Go out. Have some laughs. Nothing serious. No strings."
Aha! Nothing serious. No strings. That was his male bachelor reflex kicking in, no doubt. She shook her head to clear it. "There are a hundred reasons why we shouldn't pursue this… this whatever-it-is."
He raised his eyebrows. "Really? I'd love to hear them, 'cause I've been trying to convince myself of that very thing and I'm coming up blank. Name one."
Okay. One should be easy. There were easily a hundred. Or at least a dozen. So why the heck couldn't she think of one? Probably because of the way he was looking at her, his handsome face serious, a lock of midnight hair falling across his brow. It lulled her brain into a completely dormant state.
Her thought processes suddenly kicked in and relief washed over her. "Okay. Here's one. We have absolutely nothing in common."
"That's not true. We have a lot in common."
"Such as?"
His gaze roamed slowly over her from head to toe, igniting small bonfires all over her skin. When their eyes met again, his gleamed with mischief. "We both have belly buttons."
A breath she hadn't realized she held whooshed from her lungs. "Belly buttons? Oh, Brother."
His lips curved in a sexy half grin. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."
"I'll bet. Are we still talking about belly buttons?"
"Of course."
Her gaze unconsciously drifted down to his abdomen. She nearly swallowed her tongue when she saw the unmistakable bulging evidence of his arousal.
Clearing her throat, she said, "It would appear you have an 'outie.'"
"Constantly. Ever since I met you."
Good grief. Now she knew they weren't talking about belly buttons anymore. She somehow managed to force her gaze away from his fascinating "outie." Gazing into his amused eyes, she tried to recall what on earth they'd been talking about. Oh, yes. The hundred reasons why they shouldn't pursue a relationship.
"Okay," she said. "Here's another one. I know all about guys like you." Ha. So there.
A frown appeared between his brows. He looked puzzled. "Guys like me? What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know. Good looking, er, accountant types. Oh, you might appear harmless, but you're all philanderers."
"I'm a lot of things, but I am not a stamp collector."
"Not a philatelist. A philanderer. Someone who engages in casual affairs."
"Excuse me?"
"Fickle-hearted. Love 'em and leave 'em. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am…" her words trailed off as she noted his expression. All signs of amusement had vanished. In fact, he looked genuinely hurt.
He grew still, his eyes serious and unflinching. "That's what you think of me? What have I done to make you think so badly of me?"
Nothing. Damn it, he'd been nothing but kind. And he scared her to death. He rekindled desires and needs she'd ruthlessly buried when her fiancé had dumped her. Worse, this man made her feel things she'd never felt before, and that was reason enough to run and hide.