Читать книгу The Texas Billionaire's Bride / The Texas Bodyguard's Proposal: The Texas Billionaire's Bride - Crystal Green, Crystal Green - Страница 13

When Melanie called Zane’s cell to tell him that her makeover appointment was done, he made sure Monty had all the toys Livie had purchased in hand.

Then, since Livie begged to go with Monty to the parked car where she could begin to tear into her new toys, Zane let her escape the tedium of the department store and headed there alone so he could settle the bill while their packages were carried to the valet station.

Hopefully, he thought after rapidly taking care of money matters and boarding the Up escalator, this shopping trip and makeover would improve Melanie’s mood. If so, he would look forward to getting back to the townhouse with a more chipper nanny, then prepare to say goodbye to her and his daughter in the morning.

A niggle got to him, but he didn’t pay any mind to it.

Yup, they’d be gone tomorrow, and life would go back to normal.

He came to the personal shopper’s boutique, where Melanie had evidently gone to put on one of her new outfits with the sales associate’s encouragement. When he got there, a few women were in front of the mirror, flittering about and doing what women often did over new clothes.

Zane had just opened his mouth to ask if his employee was set to leave when the women parted to reveal the nanny in the midst of them.

The words lodged in his chest, then began pumping like a conflicting heartbeat.

Melanie?

Her blond hair was swept back into a graceful chignon, which complemented the slim lines of a short jacket and long cigarette skirt worthy of Jackie O. Her makeup was elegant, bringing out the breathtaking blue of her eyes and the lovely heart shape of her face.

She fit the role of a princess, not a nanny, and for a taboo instant, he envisioned her on his arm at a charity event, shining like the brightest of stars.

Seconds must’ve passed. Maybe even minutes. And during each escalating heartbeat, he kept himself from saying something he would regret to this new woman, even if, under the makeup and clothing, she was still the same lady who’d hooked his attention that first day.

She just had an extra sparkle in her eyes, and that was what took his breath away.

She was staring right back at him with something that resembled hope as she folded her hands in front of her—a nervous gesture he was just starting to recognize.

Melanie, he thought. Not “the nanny.”

Not now.

“You…” He trailed off.

Surely he could find a comment somewhere in his brain. Any comment. Zane Foley was the last man on earth who should’ve been searching for words.

A couple of the sales associates laughed softly, and heat crept up Zane’s neck.

He pushed his hands into his suit pockets as he addressed his employee. “Looks as if you’re ready.”

His back-to-business tone seemed to bring Melanie—no, it had to remain “the nanny”—back to reality, too. But as she nodded at him, then thanked the women around her, he could tell that she’d lost the glimmer that had made her more beautiful than ever, and he hated that he’d done this to her.

But what was new?

He turned to leave, getting the hell out of there, and she caught up just as they were crossing the marble floors and coming to the baby grand piano near the escalators. The musician was playing that song from Casablanca.

He hoped she didn’t notice.

“But,” she said, “I didn’t tip them yet.”

“It’s taken care of.”

Without looking at her, he motioned for her to climb aboard the Down escalator before him.

Cold, he thought. Didn’t he have it within himself to be more than that?

She got on the conveyance, turning around to face him while holding the moving handrail. “But shouldn’t I—?”

“It was my treat. Besides, I know the owners and my credit’s good with them.”

“Oh.” She patted the side of her hairdo, as if not knowing what else to do. “Of course you know them. You probably know every top tax-bracket entrepreneur in the country.”

“I know them because I helped develop this center, among others that Westenra’s also uses.”

At the news, she went silent, as if he’d intentionally reminded her of his station in life and hers—and the chasm between them.

But he hadn’t meant to.

Even so, the sudden space between them bothered Zane. God knew why, because it wasn’t as if they would ever be close.

They got off the escalator and moved through the men’s shoe department toward the exit where Monty would be waiting. Zane couldn’t help noticing that the suit-and-tie salesmen were watching Melanie Grandy, and he wanted to take her arm and link it through his in a show of…

He stopped himself before he used the word “possession.”

Not him. Not for her.

Nevertheless, he didn’t appreciate the staring, so he shot the men subtle back-off looks, while approaching the doors to the valet and pickup area.

When they got out there, Monty hadn’t yet arrived, and Zane guessed it was because Livie was probably going through her new purchases and making it nearly impossible for the softhearted driver to get the packages in the trunk.

He would give them three more minutes before calling.

As they waited, a couple of valets were giving Melanie the eye, just as the guys inside had been doing. With one extra long look at them, Zane persuaded the boys to go back to being valets instead of slobbering dogs.

Melanie didn’t seem to notice any of it. She stood there, face forward, the silence deafening.

Luckily, she broke it.

“And how did Toys ‘R’ Us go with Livie?” she asked.

In spite of himself, a smile captured his mouth, and when it stayed, it surprised him a little. “She was really excited. They had a Ferris wheel in the middle of the store. We went on that thing three times.”

“Good.” A smile broke out over her face, too.

My, wasn’t she content about her schemes to get father and daughter together?

Her happiness would end soon enough when she realized that tonight wasn’t going anywhere beyond this.

He shifted under the weight of the thought—and under the heft of the tension that remained between them.

But she still seemed to be in a positive mood. She even laughed a bit, yet it sounded more self-aware than anything.

“What is it?” he asked.

She gestured to her dress, her face and hair. “This whole night. Me getting made over at your pleasure.”

He almost coughed.

She caught herself. “That’s not exactly what I meant.” Sighing, she shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with…Well, I heard that you make sure all the Foley nannies have looked good to one extent or another.”

What was this about? “Meaning…?” he asked.

“Rumor has it that in the past most nannies were easy on the eye.”

That heat began its slow crawl up his skin again, from his neck to his face. “And who told you this?”

“You’re not confirming or denying my comment.”

He knew she wouldn’t give up her source, and even though that got to him, he also had to respect her loyalty. It was a decent quality for anyone to have. Besides, if he really cared about the mild gossip that much, he could narrow it down to one of a few other employees with whom she had regular contact.

“Pretty has nothing to do with it,” he muttered. “It’s never been a job requirement.”

And that was the truth. Even now, he couldn’t say if the other nannies had been good looking or not. All he knew was that Melanie Grandy affected him like none of the others had, and it didn’t sit well.

“If appearances don’t matter,” she said, “then why give me a makeover, even as a thank you?”

She’d turned to him in her direct manner. He faced her, too, and out of habit, he actually thought he might be able to make her look away if he stayed quiet long enough.

Yet she stood her ground, and he was the one at the disadvantage, overtaken by the depth and color of her eyes. There was a vivid strength in her gaze, like the undertow of the sea, and he’d noticed it even prior to the makeup bringing it out.

Before he knew what he was doing, he raised his hand and rested it on her cheek, where there had always been a natural blush, even without the aid of all these cosmetics.

Then, realizing what had just happened, he rubbed his thumb over the makeup as if to take some of it off.

“You don’t need all this,” he said.

And it was true. Achingly true.

Her eyes had gone wide. He’d shocked her, he knew, and he wondered if it was because of his brash move or because she could feel the same current that sizzled when his skin met hers.

He could see her throat working as she swallowed, and his breathing picked up.

What if he moved his fingertips down over her jaw, to her neck, where he could brush over the delicate, smooth lines? What would she do then?

What would he do after that?

Nothing around them stirred, the air seeming to hover in place, locking everything in to this one moment, this one touch. Locking them into each other’s gazes, where he could see a different world, a livelier one, hued with the laughter he’d heard on the roof of his townhouse a few hours ago.

But then he remembered how he’d put an end to the gaiety, just because he was Zane Foley—bad husband, bad father.

He’d promised he wouldn’t add any more “bad”s to his list.

Slowly, he removed his hand from her face and turned away, going for his cell phone to see where in tarnation Monty was.

As he accessed speed dial, he could feel Melanie beside him, awkward in the aftermath. And he hated himself for doing that to her—putting this otherwise self-assured woman in a place where she had no firm footing.

That’s right, he thought, once again Zane Foley’s made a mess of things.

But he was going to make sure it didn’t happen again.

Ever.

Melanie arose early the next morning, getting out of bed at the crack of dawn.

Since sleep hadn’t come easy—once again—she thought she might as well make the most of her last morning here. So she showered and threw on a sundress before going down to the kitchen, where she’d stored all the food she’d purchased from the market yesterday, including the makings of a meal that had been a hit with kids in the past—fluffy biscuit sandwiches teeming with egg, bacon and cheese. Hearty and filling.

As the biscuits baked in the oven, she began whisking the eggs, milk, garlic salt and pepper together, but all the while she kept looking toward the hallway that led to Zane’s study and bedroom.

Couldn’t she stop thinking of how he’d touched her last night? How her heart had nearly exploded at the feel of his hand on her cheek?

She stopped taking her frustration out on the eggs and fanned a hand in front of her face. Whoo. Maybe it was the heat of the oven, combined with the vulnerability of her skin after last night’s makeover facial.

Or maybe it was because Zane Foley had a power over her that no man had ever come close to.

Either way, he’d pulled away from her in the end, sending her belly sinking. Because…seriously?

She and Zane Foley—the billionaire?

Chuffing, she told herself that he’d just been wiping makeup off her face, and that was that. He was a control freak, and that obviously extended to making sure his nannies were just the way he wanted to see them, if anyone should ever get a gander.

But…

She closed her eyes. How about the desire she’d seen in his gaze? At least, that’s what she thought it’d been when it’d just about buckled her knees.

She opened her eyes again, wishing she could figure him all the way out.

Her gaze wandered to the living room, where he’d been looking at something in that chest the other night.

What if she took a peek, just in case it offered an answer?

Any answer.

Glancing around at the still house, with its blur of stained glass muting the morning, she put down the egg bowl before second guessing herself, then went to the living room, heading straight for the TV and the chest sitting on the shelves right beside it.

All while, she chided herself. Mel, think about what you’re doing.

But if this helped her to understand him, it couldn’t hurt, right?

She unlatched the chest—there was no lock, thank goodness—then eased it open to get a glimpse.

What she found made her close it and put it back the way she’d found it, her heartbeat strangled.

An urn.

Danielle’s ashes?

Feeling as if she’d intruded into someone’s most private secrets, Melanie retreated back to the kitchen to finish making breakfast.