Читать книгу She's Got the Look - Leslie Kelly - Страница 11

WHEN MELODY FELT she’d pulled herself together as much as she was able, she emerged from the ladies’ room and returned to the table in the café. Nick was watching her closely, his expression serious. “Are you all right?” he asked when she sat down.

Oh, great. She’d been in the ladies’ room having a meltdown, and he’d been sitting here thinking she was throwing up. Lovely.

“I’m fine.”

As for whether or not she was really okay? No, she wasn’t. She was losing it. She’d been spinning whimsical fantasies in her mind about this poor, wonderful, wounded soldier she’d met this morning, when, in reality, he’d been dressed like a criminal, hanging around doing heaven-knows-what in her neighborhood.

The possibilities had filled her mind during her time-out in the bathroom. She’d gotten past his hero qualities enough to wonder what the heck he’d been doing that day. Who he really was…a real cop? Or had that been another one of Rosemary’s embellishments. “Why were you parked by my building that week?” Keeping her anger—and her concern—in check, she leaned in. “Did my ex-husband hire you to spy on me? Is that why you were in a disguise? Are you one of those detectives…guys who get a badge off the Internet then go out and spy on people?”

It was his turn to look shocked, even a little indignant. “No, of course not. It had nothing to do with you.”

“So what did it have to do with?”

He leaned in over the table, as well, until their faces were only a few inches apart, right above their cups. His coffee was hot, steamy and fragrant, recently freshened up. Her cup was still empty. She could have hit him just for that.

“I’m with the Savannah-Chatham PD’s Crime Investigation Unit. Didn’t Rosemary tell you why I was undercover? Didn’t you hear about your neighbor, the drug importer?”

A real undercover cop. And she had heard something about an arrest near her home. The relief flooding through her couldn’t be denied. “I’m sorry.” She tugged her ball cap off her head and tossed it onto the table, suddenly feeling a headache coming on. “I didn’t know for sure who you were.”

“So who did you think I was when we were talking a few minutes ago?”

She sighed, wondering what to say. About him, the list, his fifteen minutes of fame. Before she had to decide, he spoke again.

“It’s okay, I think I get it. Rosemary spun some kind of story to get you here, right?” He shook his head. “That woman sure loves to pull people’s strings, doesn’t she?”

Melody seized on the explanation. “Rosemary. Yes, of course.” Forcing a laugh, she added, “She is rather outrageous.”

“How do you know her?” he asked. Waiting for her to respond, he leaned back in his chair, kicking his legs out in front of him and crossing one foot over the other.

Those long legs. Those big feet. Which instantly had her trying to remember what they said about big feet.

Then he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Those thick arms. Those big hands. Which also got her wondering about the whole big-hands, long-fingers thing.

God, she had to get out of here. Because now he was even more dangerous to her peace of mind than he’d been before, when she’d thought he was just the guy from her list.

Now he was the guy who’d helped her move into her new place. The one who’d risked his own undercover assignment, somehow seeing the desperation Melody had thought she’d been doing a pretty good job of hiding, and helped her when she was most in need.

He was gorgeous. He was sexy. He was a hero. And she was in way over her head.

Because even if she did something unthinkable, like go for it with a man she’d once named on a list, he wouldn’t be one she could do it with. Nick wasn’t the kind of man a woman could have and then forget. He was completely unforgettable; she knew that already after their two brief interactions. Which kind of defeated the purpose of the list, didn’t it? Joke or no joke.

“You still breathing over there?” he asked, a teasing look in his twinkling brown eyes.

Before she could respond, the waitress came over to their table. “He took the dregs, and said to get you a nice fresh pot,” the woman said, giving Melody an impersonal smile.

Oh, no. He’d done something kind again. Something thoughtful. She really needed him to stop doing that if she was going to be able to maintain any willpower at all around the man.

Once the waitress had filled her cup and left, Mel answered Nick’s question. “Rosemary and I met as kids. She and Paige, the woman who was helping me move in that day, were my best friends from fourth grade on.” She smiled, remembering how it had felt to have a normal kid life for the first time. “Then Tanya burst into our lives. A strong-willed, feisty black girl who had no idea the kind of crap that could go on in the genteel South. The three of us rallied around her because some of the stuck-up white kids in our private school were so rotten to her.”

“Rosemary wasn’t one of them?” He sounded skeptical.

“Rosemary’s spoiled and is from a rich Southern family, but she’s definitely not a racist.” Chuckling, she added, “The two of them love to harass each other. They’re a riot when the one-liners start flying—the pampered Southern belle and the tough, proud, African-American woman. They are a perfect foil to each other. I guess, when you think about it, all of us complemented one another pretty well, which is why we got along from day one.”

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “So are you like Rosemary? A real-live Southern belle?”

“I was born in Florida. My mother and I moved here when I was ten and we rented a place in this area.”

She didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to know that they’d moved to Savannah precisely so her mother could play Southern belle. Or that the place they’d rented had been a gorgeous estate a few blocks from the river. Or that the money Melody had been making as the most popular kid on just about every TV commercial on the air and almost every kiddie show on PBS had paid for it.

That was all on a need-to-know basis. And this man didn’t need to know anything more than the three spots on Melody’s body that could give her an almost-instant orgasm.

In five-and-a-half years of marriage, Bill had found one of them. Sort of. But she’d bet this guy could zone in on all three in under five minutes if they ever got naked.

It’s not happening. The list was a joke!

“You’re not a native,” he said. “Me neither.”

“You’re not from Georgia?” she asked, surprised since that’s about all she’d ever known about her Time magazine hero.

“Yeah, but not here. I moved here after high school. I’m from the northwest part of the state, a place called Joyful.”

Joyful, Georgia. “Sounds quaint and sweet, like a picture-postcard small town.”

“It’s hell with white picket fences,” he replied matter-of-factly, indicating that subject was closed. “Now, come on, tell me. How’d Rosemary get you here?” he asked. “And why?”

Uh-uh. No way was she going into detail on either of those questions. “Doesn’t matter. She was obviously playing a joke on both of us, so I think I’ll get my check and go.”

His eyes narrowed. “Not so fast. I think it does matter. She got me here with some story about you knowing of a link between a murder in Atlanta and the death of a local restaurant owner.”

Though her heart skipped a beat, Melody managed to keep her expression serene. “Really? How strange.”

He stared for a moment, then slowly asked, “So you’re saying you don’t know anything about the death of Charles Pulowski in the kitchen of his own restaurant?”

She gaped. “Pulowski? His last name was Pulowski? And he owned a restaurant named Chez Jacques?”

“So you do know him.”

Shaking her head, she said, “No, but I’ve heard of him. I lived on his chocolate volcano cake during finals in college.”

He didn’t react at all. Some men would have made a comment about the cake not hurting her figure. Some women might have been fishing for such a comment. But he wasn’t such a man. And she wasn’t even going to think about whether she was such a woman.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Detective Walker murmured, his voice steady, that soft drawl low and warm but strictly business…as if he wasn’t the least bit distracted by any thoughts of her appearance.

This man was so different from most of the men she met. So completely the opposite of her ex-husband, whose smooth delivery back when they were dating had made his incessant compliments and comments about her looks seem almost charming, instead of piggish. Now she knew better.

Detective Walker seemed to have flipped a switch. From self-deprecating charmer when he’d arrived, to no-nonsense cop now.

His current disinterest was…unsettling. Not that she was drop-dead gorgeous or anything. She’d always been more of a fresh-faced, wholesome, big-smile model rather than a classically beautiful one…which was why the Luscious Lingerie thing had been such a fluke. And an embarrassment.

She’d put on a few pounds after she’d quit modeling. And she’d eaten her way through her divorce, needing to sample every form of chocolate ever invented. So she was nowhere near her size-four model days. Several sizes from it, in fact.

But she still turned heads on occasion when she made the effort. Then again, she hadn’t made much of an effort this morning, doing nothing more than yanking her hair into a ponytail and scraping some lipstick across her lips. So maybe that explained it. Mental note: start making an effort. You never know when you’re going to run across somebody from your sex list.

Realizing he was still waiting for an answer, Mel finally said, “I can say with perfect honesty that I have never met this Charles Pulowski, and unless he disguised himself as a waiter and delivered my chocolate volcano cake, I have never even laid eyes on him.” Perfectly truthful. And as much as he needed to know.

“I don’t think he’d have gone incognito as a waiter without you noticing him.” He sipped his coffee, then added, “He was seventy years old and weighed almost four-hundred pounds.”

Gulping, Melody sent up a quick thanks that she hadn’t met the man and that the list had been a joke. Besides, even if Rosemary thought it hadn’t been, the list was still only a guideline…she was allowed to hop into bed with any of the men on it. That didn’t mean she was required to. At least, that’s how she interpreted it.

She wasn’t so sure Rosemary would say the same. Especially after today. Then again, Rosemary might still be dead by the end of the week, depending on how much she groveled over this ambush, so who cared what she thought?

“Well, then I definitely never met him,” she replied.

He didn’t appear entirely convinced, but didn’t press. “So it was a scam. Why is Rosemary trying to set you up?”

Again, no flattery. No smarmy comment like Bill might have made when trying to pick up a woman he’d just met about how ludicrous it was to think she’d need someone to set her up.

A part of her wondered briefly if he wasn’t flirting simply because he wasn’t interested in her. But she quickly put that thought under a sharp stiletto heel in her brain and ground it out of existence. Considering she’d wanted him with every molecule in her body at first sight, she’d have to get violent if she thought he felt absolutely nothing in return.

She doubted that. He might not be flirting or sizing her up, now, but he had earlier. Besides, there was an intensity about the way he watched her that made her think he was every bit as aware of her as she was of him.

“She have some idea that you need to hop back on the horse because you fell off the marriage wagon?” he asked.

“Something like that, I guess,” she admitted. “She’s determined to throw me kicking and screaming into—” your bed “—the dating pool. But one thing I do not need is a date.”

No, she merely needed an orgasm. Or a hundred.

“So why does Rosemary think you do? Or is it just her being her spoiled puppeteer self, deciding to pull your strings the way she tries to pull everyone else’s?”

Ooh. He didn’t like Rosemary. There was a point against the man. If he said he hated cats, she’d have to scratch him off her list altogether. That’d been her first real indication that Bill was a jerk—he’d hated her cat. Which was why she’d gotten another one a couple of years ago.

Since this guy was destined to be delisted, anyway, given her way-too-unmanageable-and-dangerous response to him, she considered mentioning her two felines, Oscar and C.C. Instead, she answered his question with a pointed stare. “Rosemary is my best friend. She was my maid of honor.”

“How long were you married?”

“Almost six years. The divorce was final a few months ago.”

“That’s tough. I went through it several years ago.”

“Is that why Rosemary’s trying to set you up?”

Nick—she was mentally calling him Nick now, instead of Detective Walker, which probably wasn’t too smart but she couldn’t help it—rolled his eyes. “No, she’s doing that because she’s a pain in the ass.”

Sharing his rueful grin, because it was true and because his voice held a hint of amusement rather than dislike, she murmured, “She can be.”

“And,” he continued, “I suspect she thinks if I get distracted by someone, I won’t have as much time to corrupt Dex.”

“Dex?”

“My partner.”

Melody nearly fell out of her chair. In fact, it actually did wobble a bit because she instinctively reared straight up on the rickety old seat. It almost went over backward, and probably would have if not for the grace of God and the luck of fools.

“Partner?” she whispered.

He nodded. Confirming he had a partner. Holy shit on a shallot, this guy—her fantasy guy—was gay?

Reality immediately set back in. Not gay, dummy. A cop…all cops had partners, right? He had to be talking about his partner on the police force. Had to be. Because a man as masculine, rugged and sexy as this one being gay would be a crime against humanity. Well, half of humanity. The half that didn’t pee standing up.

It wasn’t just the idea of the man sitting across from her being gay that bothered her. It was the idea that the man she’d once had such long, torrid fantasies about—in the early days of her less-than-satisfactory marriage—could be.

She’d allowed her Time magazine marine to slip out of her mind sometime over the past few years, when she’d been so focused on pain, failure and betrayal. So she’d forgotten the many long, sleepless nights she’d lain in her bed and wondered about the stranger, picturing his dark brown eyes and the grim, intense expression on his face. She remembered now, though. And she feared it wasn’t going to be so easy to forget him again.

There was one way to make sure of his leanings. “Uh, I take it you mean your partner on the police force. Not your partner…in life?”

Lowering his coffee cup, he stared at her. Hard. “Yeah. My partner on the police force. Were you thinking…”

Her face grew hot. And probably twenty shades of red. But there was only one way out of this and that was to brazen through it. “Well, only for a second.”

He chuckled. “That’s some friend you have there, if you think she’d set you up with somebody who didn’t even like women.”

She wouldn’t put it past Rosemary, who probably wouldn’t see anything wrong in having a one-night stand with someone who was a little, um…open…in his preferences. Maybe that was because Rosemary hadn’t had a close brush with a venereal disease. Unlike Melody. Who’d learned from her enraged ex-husband that the reason he hadn’t had sex with her during their engagement was because he’d been afraid he’d give her an STD and she’d never marry him.

Uh, yeah, that’d been a pretty good bet.

Thank God the prick with the drill had been so scared of getting busted that he’d always used condoms—using the too-soon-for-kids excuse. Then, typical of men who collect things, he’d quickly tired of her and had moved on to other conquests. Mel had been tested a number of times and, like most of her money, a sexually transmitted disease was not among the things she’d taken with her when she’d left her marriage.

“It was just a brief thought,” she said with a smile.

“An incorrect one.”

“Okay. I’m convinced.”

“You sure you don’t need proof?”

Heat rose in her face as she imagined the kind of proof he could offer. As if he could read her mind, Nick started to laugh.

She blushed some more, she could feel it. In comparison with some of the other ways she’d humiliated herself in the past few years, this really wasn’t so bad. So she’d kind of accused a big, gorgeous, hunky former-marine-turned-cop of liking men. Not a huge deal in the scheme of things, right? She really shouldn’t be feeling so utterly mortified.

But she did. She really wanted to sink under the table and crawl out of here on all fours. That was another reason to forget about the man, along with the fact that he disliked her best friend. He could mortify her. That was a very bad combination and one Melody wasn’t about to allow.

“Dex, my partner in the Criminal Investigation Unit, has been dating Rosemary on and off for over a year,” he explained, still looking amused. “Hasn’t she told you about him?”

She hadn’t. Not in any detail. She certainly hadn’t mentioned that she was dating a Savannah cop. That was very unexpected for Rosemary, who, to be honest, was expected to marry into some old, rich, Southern family like her sister had done. If she ever settled down at all.

“I’ve been sort of distracted with my divorce,” Mel finally said, figuring that was the reason Rosemary hadn’t been any more forthcoming about her romance. She wondered if Paige and Tanya knew Rosemary was involved with the marine hero’s partner, but figured not. Paige couldn’t keep a secret longer than six-and-a-half minutes. And Tanya would never have let Rosemary get away with this morning’s setup. “I knew she was seeing someone but never knew who. I’m sure she figured I had enough to think about.”

“Ahh.”

Then, curious, she said, “You’re not freaking out that I thought you were gay.”

“No, I’m not.” He sipped his coffee, not quite successful in an attempt to hide a chuckle. “Unlike you.”

“I was embarrassed,” she mumbled.

That cocky look returned as he smoothly seized the chance to take the upper hand. “You were upset at the idea, Melanie, admit it. Upset and disappointed.”

“My name’s Melody.” Somehow, down deep inside, she grabbed hold of a bit of strength. Giving him a look of disdain that had reduced international designers to stammering little boys, she added, “You’re very amusing, but I absolutely was not upset, or disappointed. Now, I do have to go.”

Oh, that had sounded good. Perfect. Just the right tone and the right expression and now she could exit stage left and forget this disconcerting conversation had ever taken place.

Only, something funny happened. Funny strange, not funny ha-ha. Because instead of looking deflated or resigned, Nick Walker was smiling. A big, huge, good-ol’-boy smile that lit up his amazing eyes and brought out two enormous dimples in his cheeks.

God, what a smile.

What a smile? The question should be why a smile! She’d insulted him.

“Melody, huh? A very unusual name. And you’re Rosemary’s best friend?” he said, laughter in his voice. “I should have known.”

Her heart rate kicking up a notch, Mel whispered, “Why?”

“Well,” he replied with that boyish grin still glued to his face, “because I’ve heard about you. Rosemary does like to throw her parties, and yes, indeed, I do believe your name has come up a time or two when I’ve been at her place.”

Dead? Did she say Rosemary was dead? That wasn’t good enough. Eviscerated…that might do. For a start.

She didn’t want to know, even though the curiosity was gnawing at her stomach with painful intensity. Slowly rising, she gave him a noncommittal smile. “Really? How funny. Well, it was nice meeting you, and I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

The man didn’t rise. He just sat there, looking up at her. Then he slowly shook his head and tsked. Actually tsked!

“What?” she snapped.

“Seems to me,” he said, “you’re going about this all the wrong way. Getting up and running isn’t exactly going to get you what you want.”

She closed her eyes briefly, willing him not to mean what she suspected he meant.

“Because, honey, if you’re supposed to be working on me, you really ought to stick around.”

Her jaw clenched. “Working on you?”

Slowly—as if intentionally drawing out her torment—he rose from his chair, unfolding himself with unconscious grace and simmering sexiness. He stepped closer, around the table, until they stood toe-to-toe. Nearly hip to hip. Almost chest to chest and definitely breath to breath—if, of course, she ever remembered to start breathing again.

Then he laughed—a low, sultry sound that slid across all her nerve endings—and said, “Well, yeah, we haven’t even named the place yet.”

Dread filling her mind as much as his sultry, masculine scent was filling her head, she bit out, “The place?”

He nodded, stepping even closer until their chests did meet and her nipples tightened in a sudden, instinctive response. “You know,” he said softly, for her ears alone. “For us to get workin’ on that list of yours.”

Oh, God.

“After all,” he continued, “if I’m the number-one man on your sexual-fantasy list, I think we’d better go someplace a little more private.”

NICK COULDN’T REMEMBER the last time he’d been so amused, aroused and intrigued by a woman all at the same time. Melody…this friend of Rosemary’s with her sassy ponytail and her pouty, kissable lips and those deep blue eyes…she amused him for sure. And she aroused him nearly out of his mind.

As for intriguing him? Well, she’d been doing that for ages, since long before he’d ever set eyes on her. Now that he knew who she was, he had the feeling there wasn’t going to be any way to shake off this hunger except by giving them both what she’d once claimed to most desire.

“You’re deranged,” she whispered hoarsely.

“Uh-uh. I’ve seen your list.” That was entirely true. He had seen her list—he just hadn’t realized it was hers until a moment ago when she’d revealed her actual name.

Melody…not Melanie. Not a name he’d soon forget. After all, it wasn’t every day you learned a woman had named you her number-one fantasy man. That’d been the intriguing part.

“You’ve seen it?” Her jaw dropped. He reached up and touched her chin with his finger, stroking the soft skin there the tiniest bit as he tipped her mouth closed. Her face was incredibly soft, perfectly smooth. Sensual to the touch.

Melody’s eyes widened even more as she stared directly into his, not having to tilt her head back too far to do so. Reminding him that she was tall. Perfect. They were so very close. He could lean a few inches and catch that mouth in the kind of kiss that would make them both weak in the knees.

If only they weren’t entirely surrounded. But they were, and that knowledge gave him the strength to step away.

“Rosemary wouldn’t have…”

“I don’t think she meant to. She was digging for hers to annoy Dex and yours kinda fell out. It was sort of an accident, and I only caught a little glimpse.”

“An accident? How can someone accidentally show the world her best friend’s sexual-fantasy list?”

Ahh. He had her. “So you admit it?”

Her jaw tightened. “I’m not admitting a thing.”

“You said you were mad at Rosemary for talking about your sexual-fantasy list.”

“That was a ‘just supposing’ type of thing. As in, just supposing I did have such a list—which I don’t—there’s no way my best friend would share it with anybody, much less you.”

He shrugged. “But she did.”

She looked ready to growl, but before she could say anything, a loud throat clearing interrupted. That’s when he realized they’d stopped talking in whispers.

“You are a jerk,” she muttered.

“And you are a liar.”

Her jaw clenched. “Well, then it’s a good thing we’ll never be seeing each other again.”

Shaking his head, he shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that.” Finally, unable to keep teasing her, he laughed. “Come on, ease up, I’m giving you a hard time. I know the list is a joke.”

Some of the tension eased out of her body. “You do?”

“You really think I believe women sit down on the night before they’re getting married and give themselves permission to cheat?” Then, thinking of his own ex-wife, he qualified that. “I mean, normal women?”

“It was a stupid game,” she mumbled.

“I know.”

“Never intended to be taken seriously.”

“More’s the pity.”

That got her attention. She lifted one brow.

“I said I know it was a joke,” he said with an unrepentant shrug. “Not that I’m glad it was.”

Her shoulders stiffened again, and Nick almost chuckled at how easy she was to rile. So unlike the sad-looking, life-weary woman he’d met a few weeks ago, struggling to be strong but unable to hide the truth of her desperation.

He much preferred this Melody, the one whose eyes were sparkling, not tearing up.

“Are you the type of guy who’d do something like that?”

“You don’t have to sound all judgmental,” he said, not denying it, even though her accusation wasn’t true. “You were the one who wrote the list in the first place. What’d you call it? Your Men Most Wanted? I gotta say, I’d really like to hear more about how I was lucky enough to win first place.”

This time, he thought he heard her spine snap as she straightened up. Good. Definitely no more quivering lip, no more lowered eyes, shaking hands or sad expression. Now her mouth was moving a little, as if she were telling him off under her breath. Her whole body was so stiff and indignant, as if she were ready to pound him…or jump on him. Yessir, he was definitely enjoying seeing another glimpse of this redhead’s temper. “So how about we sit back down and talk about this list of yours?”

“How about you take your breakfast and shove it up your—”

“Ahem!”

This time the throat clearing came from a frazzled-looking mama with a toddler in a high chair and a wide-eyed preschooler beside her. Tsking, he murmured, “Not very ladylike.”

Melody didn’t reply. Instead, giving a quick, apologetic look to the woman with the little ones, she swung around, her purse smacking him in the arm on the way by. She didn’t say another word as she stalked through the restaurant.

“Nice meeting you, Melody,” he called after her, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice.

Her response made him laugh even more. Without turning around—without a word—she lifted her hand up and shot him the finger over her shoulder as she blew out the door.

Apparently the mama with the little ones didn’t mind non-verbal insults, because she was grinning, too, once Melody was gone. “I don’t think that went well,” she said.

“I think that went just fine,” he replied, still chuckling.

Yeah. It’d gone very well. He’d say their relationship was off to a rousing start. They’d talked and flirted, taunted and argued. Most of all, they’d pushed each other’s buttons.

She had awakened something in him—something he hadn’t felt in a good long time, if ever. It wasn’t merely lust. The sex-list thing had been a joke, he knew that. He’d simply liked teasing her with it to see the way her eyes snapped with fire, her chin jutted out and her sexy mouth turned mulish.

No, it wasn’t because of any list that he couldn’t wait to seek out Miss Tanner again. It was because for the first time in a number of years, he’d met a woman who’d gotten in the last word and left him practically begging for more. That, and because he was genuinely interested in getting to know her.

“Don’t you think you should go after her?” the waitress said as she came by with his check.

He shook his head. “Too soon.”

“Suit yourself,” the woman said as she walked away.

The young mother apparently agreed with the waitress. “No, it’s not too soon.” She kept on talking even while doing that nasty spit-on-a-napkin-to-wipe-the-kid’s-face thing all mothers did. “You need to strike while the iron is hot.”

Nick caught the kid’s resigned look and winked. “Oh?”

“She’s all flustered now. Once she gets home and thinks about it, she’s going to forget how charming you were and only remember how you yanked her chain about that list of hers.”

Nick winced. The woman had heard every word they’d said.

“Listen, when you have babies you develop ears like a hawk. And your conversation was a mite bit more interesting than ours.”

He laughed, dropping his hand to the pre-schooler’s head to rustle his soft hair. “You got a smart mama, you know that?”

The little boy nodded. Then, lifting his hand, he said, “What does this mean?”

Nick knew the middle finger was gonna pop up about two seconds before it actually did. “Yikes, sorry,” he muttered.

The mother sighed heavily and waved a hand, shooing him off while she dealt with the child.

Nick didn’t plan to act on the young woman’s advice. He had a feeling Melody wouldn’t take kindly to being followed down the streets of Savannah. Besides, he didn’t need to follow her. He knew where she lived.

Glancing at the table they’d shared, he spied Mel’s half-empty cup. It was smeared with a bit of her lipstick, the rosy color shining brightly against the white mug. Strange, he could still almost see her slim hand curled around it and the way her lips pursed as she blew on it to take off some of the steam.

Crazy. He’d never been so focused, so aware of a woman before. Of her every movement, the way she lifted her hand to brush back an errant strand of hair. The hitchy little sound she made in the back of her throat when she was upset. That brilliant, full-lipped smile.

Still looking at the mug, he started to chuckle as he realized something. Even though she’d blown him off with a resounding silent hand gesture, he’d obviously gotten under her skin. Melody had been so flustered she’d forgotten to even pay for her coffee, leaving him stuck with the bill. His and hers.

He didn’t mind, he’d have wanted to pay anyway. But he’d bet anything she wouldn’t have wanted him to.

When he actually looked at the check, his chuckle turned into a full laugh. Because Melody hadn’t only walked out without paying for a cup of coffee. “Biscuits and gravy,” he read aloud.

Mel had left him with the bill for her breakfast, and she’d had his favorite. Somehow that made him like her even more.

And reaffirmed just how much he couldn’t wait to see her again.

AFTER HER SILENT parting shot, Melody hadn’t been able to get out of the restaurant fast enough. She’d almost tripped over a couple of people as she’d made her escape, but she didn’t think she’d have been able to stop if someone who’d eaten one too many cholesterol-laden scrambled eggs keeled over of a heart attack right in front of her.

“Too much,” she muttered as she stood outside in the hot Savannah morning a few moments later. She’d had to pause to make her heart stop pounding and to regain her calm.

Nick Walker was too much. She just couldn’t take him today. Or tomorrow. Or next year. Maybe when she was fifty she could handle a man like Nick, but until then, uh-uh.

Why, oh why had Rosemary done this to her? Setting her up, telling him about that stupid list? She’d thrown Melody to the wolves…at least one Big Bad Wolf…when Rosemary, better than anyone, knew how deeply Bill’s betrayals had hurt her.

A product of a home broken by infidelity herself when she was very young, Rosemary had been the one Mel had confided in during the last miserable months of her marriage. Before she’d gone to the billboard, before she’d made a laughingstock of herself, Melody had poured her heart out to Rosemary.

And this was how her friend had repaid her.

“Maybe that’s why she did it,” she admitted under her breath. Because on one or two occasions when the self-doubt had been overwhelming, she’d told her best friend about her deepest fear—that Bill’s description of her as a pretty, lifeless, sexless doll was true. Rosemary had been a quiet, comforting voice of support. But she’d also wanted to go find a voodoo priestess and have some juju put on Bill so he could never get it up again.

Hmm…if the bastard didn’t stay out of her life from now on, Melody might just think about it.

Rosemary believed in action, not words. So Melody could almost hear her justifying today’s actions. Her friend had undoubtedly figured that the minute Melody recognized her Time magazine hero, she’d forget the list had been a joke, let her libido take over for her brain, and end up wiling away the rest of the day in this guy’s bed.

Finally realizing she’d better go before Nick came outside and assume she’d been waiting for him, she started walking back toward her place. “He’d probably think I was out here planning to pounce on him because of that stupid list,” she muttered.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t been tempted—the man was temptation on two legs. But she wasn’t ready for it. Sex with anybody required a level of trust she wasn’t sure she was capable of giving anymore.

And sex with somebody who could crush her with one bored look, or a lack of interest in a second round? No way. Her ego couldn’t stand it. She’d be better off going to bed with the unsexiest, most boring, unattractive guy she could find. That way, if she wasn’t inspiring enough to command a repeat performance, at least she wouldn’t give a damn.

With Nick, she’d give a damn.

She really didn’t deserve this, not now when she finally felt that things were coming together. Because Nick Walker made her feel anything but together. He confused her. Angered her. Amused her. Oh, Lord, definitely aroused her. But she didn’t have time in her life for any of that right now. Not confusion or anger, not distraction or embarrassment.

Not sex. Not him.

“Not sex with him.”

“Excuse me?”

She realized she’d spoken aloud when she glanced up and saw a man standing directly in front of her on the sidewalk. She’d almost barreled into him, paying attention only to what was going on in her head and not what was happening in front of her face. For a second she thought she’d just made an idiot of herself for about the tenth time in an hour in front of a complete stranger. But this wasn’t a stranger.

She wasn’t sure whether that made it better or worse.

“Uh, hi,” she said, clearing her throat. “I almost didn’t recognize you without salsa music or the smell of enchiladas.”

The Hispanic owner of the Mexican restaurant where Melody had hung out with her friends for years gave her a warm smile. “Believe it or not, this is my second favorite place to eat.” He pointed to the café she’d just left, which was only a few yards behind her. “I come here for grits and biscuits.”

The restaurant owner, who kept his few strands of overly shiny black hair brushed across his bald head in a blatant attempt to defy late middle-age, didn’t look like the grits-and-biscuits type. Though judging by the pendulous belly straining the buttons of his short-sleeved white dress shirt, Mel supposed he hadn’t been living on tortillas alone.

“You’re not with your friends this morning?” he asked, looking around as if expecting to see Paige, Rosemary or Tanya hiding behind a car parked at the curb. “I didn’t think you girls ever did anything without each other.”

She really hated the way some men called grown women “girls.” That was on her pet-peeve list. Along with men who called their cars their “ride” and their wives “baby.” Like her ex had.

“Not today. I’m all by myself,” she said.

He shook his head. “That is not good, señora. You shouldn’t be alone at this time. You should be with people…people who appreciate you and make you smile in that beautiful way.” His eyes glittered as he repeated, “Such a beautiful smile.”

His words were friendly, but something about the way he was looking at her made her uncomfortable. It was almost personal. Flirtatious. If he weren’t twenty years her senior and hadn’t been serving her and her friends chicken burritos since they were in middle school, she’d suspect the guy was coming on to her.

“I would give anything to see that smile every day.”

Okay, he was coming on to her. Eww.

Suddenly the idea of hooking up with an unsexy, unappealing guy for the sake of her ego became less palatable. Particularly when she, uh, pictured the possibilities with this one.

Nope. She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t have sex with someone who didn’t attract her, not even for the sake of her banged-up pride. Not for fun, not because of a list, not to get back in the saddle, not for anything. So, really, the only solution was to have no sex at all. Not for a long, long time. Years. Decades.

Then she pictured Nick’s face…his big hands, his hard body, his soft, sexy voice.

And wondered if she’d last the week.