Running Shorts jerked his head toward the counter. "You're next," he said to Chris, clearly oblivious to the fact that he was on the receiving end of a dark, angry stare.
After one last killer look, Chris placed his order, paid, and left before he gave into the temptation to do bodily harm and ended up in jail on assault charges.
Seated in the parking lot in the Mercedes, he gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. God damn it! He couldn't recall the last time he'd felt so unsettled and frustrated.
The idea of Ratty Sweats, or any guy, dating Melanie-touching her, kissing her, making love to her, tied his insides into hard knots and made him want to break things. He'd never experienced such hot, pulsing, jealous anger before, and he didn't like it. Not one damn bit.
This caring about a woman business was a major pain in the ass. He'd be much better off sticking to his carefree bachelor plan and dating a string of beauties. And that's exactly what he was going to do.
As soon as he got Melanie out of his system.
A couple of weeks of no-strings-attached fun and games, and they'd amiably part company. His inner voice yelled that that might not be as easy as it sounded, but Chris ruthlessly squashed the pesky voice.
After several minutes, he regained his composure and started the car. Muttering to himself about kicking some sweatsuit ass, he was halfway to Melanie's house before the other part of Ratty and Running's conversation worked its way back into his mind.
A new restaurant was scheduled to open right across the street from the Pampered Palate.
The ramifications of that information hit him like a bucket of cold water. Did Melanie know about this?
But more important, did the bank know? The fact that a competitor was opening so close by could and probably would influence the bank's decision on granting Melanie her loan. It was definitely information that should be disclosed in his company's independent review.
If the bank didn't already know… Chris groaned at the thought. If they didn't know, he'd have to tell them. Or at least inform Glenn so he could tell the loan officer.
Damn it! Technically, he supposed he could keep quiet about it. Who would ever know what he'd overheard? But his conscience would chew at him, even though it was a gray area.
Maybe the bank already knew. Was it possible Glenn or Bob Harris had found out and were already going to include the info about the new restaurant in their review? Or perhaps Melanie knew and had told Glenn and the bank. Maybe Chris's firm or the bank would investigate the empty stores to find out what kind of businesses were planning to rent them.
He wouldn't know all the facts until he spoke to Glenn on Monday. He briefly considered calling him at home but recalled that Glenn was away for the weekend. In the meantime, he'd ask Melanie a few discreet questions. If she already knew and had disclosed the info, there was no problem. If she didn't know… he pushed the disturbing thought aside.
And prayed he wasn't going to ruin her chances of getting her loan.
Chris rang Melanie's doorbell at exactly eleven o'clock, and Nana threw open the door.
"Well! If it isn't the hunk!" she said, her face wreathed in smiles. "And you brought those yummy doughnuts again." She looked him up and down over her bifocals. "Jiminy Cricket. You're a looker for sure."
Chris laughed. "Same goes, Nana."
She patted her bright red hair and blushed. "Now don't you go flirtin' with me, young man. I've got a beau of my own."
"Bernie's a lucky man."
"You're darn tootin'," Nana agreed with a wink. "Come on in. There's coffee brewing, and I just took a batch of double chocolate chunk cookies out of the oven."
Chris rubbed his hand over his stomach. "I love you, Nana."
Following Nana into the kitchen, Chris made himself at home in one of the chintz-covered chairs. He really liked this house, he decided, accepting a yellow ceramic mug filled with aromatic coffee. And he especially liked the women who lived in it.
He scooped a cookie from the serving tray. "Where's Melanie?"
"She'll be along. I heard the shower running earlier. Did you have fun last night?"
Chris bit into the cookie and moaned in ecstasy. He felt like an eight-year-old, sitting at the table after school, munching on home-baked cookies for an afternoon snack. "Last night was great. Melanie loved the motorcycle."
Nana raised her brows. "Motorcycle?"
"Didn't she tell you?"
"No. I, er, only arrived home two hours ago."
The bright pink blush creeping over Nana's cheeks amused him. So did the wicked gleam in her eye. "Nana! You devil."
She chuckled. "Ain't it the truth? Now, what's this about a motorcycle?"
Chris told Nana about Melanie's inaugural bike ride-leaving out the part where her granddaughter had all but seduced him in the parking lot. He'd just finished when Melanie walked into the kitchen.
"Good morning," Nana said, eyeing her granddaughter up and down.
Melanie mumbled something unintelligible and headed straight for the coffeepot.
Nana raised her brows and picked up her mug. "I'm outta here, kids. I'm gonna take me a nice long, hot bath. Bernie's taking me to Chili's for the early-bird special, then we're heading back to his place to watch the Braves game and drink martinis."
"Take my advice, Nana," Melanie said, easing herself into a chair. "Don't drink martinis. Ever."
"So that's why you're looking so peaked." Nana fixed her gaze on Chris. "Did you get my granddaughter drunk, young man?"
Chris lifted his palms in surrender. "No, ma'am. She did it all by herself."
She eyed him with interest. "You take advantage of her weakened condition?"
"Nope." A smile tugged at his lips. "She tried her darnedest to seduce me, but I wouldn't let her. I did the honorable thing and hauled her tipsy butt back home. The effort almost killed me."
Melanie glared at both of them, her hands wrapped around her coffee mug like it was a lifeline. "Would you two stop talking about me as if I'm not here?"
Nana hooted out a laugh. "Oohh, she's a prickly one this morning." She patted Chris's shoulder. "Good luck, young man. You're gonna need it." Waving her fingers at them, she left.
Chris stretched out his legs, helped himself to another cookie, and watched Melanie sip her coffee with her eyes closed. Damned if she wasn't adorable, even if she was kinda grumpy.
He wanted to ask her about the vacant store across from the Pampered Palate but decided to wait until he could casually toss his questions into the conversation. He wasn't about to spoil their day when there might not be anything to worry about.
She didn't speak until she'd poured herself a second cup of coffee. Then she cleared her throat.
"Ah… about last night." She looked at him with those big brown eyes and his insides squeezed together. "I think I may have had one too many martinis."
He watched, fascinated, as a peachy blush suffused her entire face. "How do you feel?"
She huffed out a breath. "Actually, I feel pretty good. Good grief, I slept like someone hit me on the head with a hammer. I woke up with a headache, but I took some aspirin and it's almost gone." She twisted her fingers together, then raised her gaze to his. "What I'm really feeling is embarrassed."
"Why?"
She stared at him as if he was nuts. "Why? How can you even ask? I threw myself at you. And if that's not bad enough, you turned me down. How humiliating is that?"
If she hadn't looked so distraught, Chris would have laughed. She thought he'd turned her down? Crazy woman. He stood and drew her to her feet. Tipping up her chin, he forced her to look at him.
"You have it all wrong, Melanie. I didn't turn you down. All I did was postpone the inevitable." He lowered his head and kissed her softly. She tasted like cookies.