Читать книгу A Match Made by Cupid - Tracy Madison - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Hours later, Melanie let herself in at her mother’s house and went to start dinner. They’d developed a routine over the years, one that included eating a meal together at least once a week. More often when one of them needed extra support.

Sure, the weight of that “extra support” landed more often on Melanie’s shoulders than vice versa. But that didn’t matter. They were a team. Had been ever since the day David Prentiss decided that family life didn’t agree with him and walked out on his wife and daughter, never to look back. Melanie had been seven. Old enough to have memories of her father but young enough to get used to life without him.

In her mother’s seventies-era kitchen, Melanie grabbed a box of dried pasta and a jar of tomato sauce from a cupboard. She’d found her mom in here that morning, she recalled, sobbing over a half-eaten toaster waffle. Loretta had cried for the better part of a year, though after that first morning, she’d attempted to hide her tears from Melanie.

But closed doors, running water and a loud television weren’t enough to cover the sounds of grief. Nor did the layers of carefully applied cosmetics mask swollen eyes.

Late one night about eight months into it, Melanie crawled into bed with her mother. She’d wrapped her arms around her, holding her tighter than she ever had before, and they’d cried together. As far as Melanie knew, that was the last time her mother had shed a tear over David Prentiss. She knew for certain it was the last time that she had.

Melanie glanced at the clock. It was Tuesday, which meant Loretta closed shop at six and would be home by six-thirty. After filling a large pot with water, Melanie set it on the stove to boil. She unscrewed the jar of sauce and dumped the contents into a saucepan before preheating the oven for the garlic bread. A few minutes later, she was chopping vegetables for a salad.

She wasn’t expected to prepare dinner, but sitting around and waiting for her mother to come home and cook seemed wrong. With the salad ready and in the fridge, the pasta boiling and the sauce simmering, Melanie dropped into a chair to relax. Hopefully, the evening wouldn’t be another rehash of her mother’s newest failed relationship.

Melanie had lied to Jace earlier when she said she’d never suffered from broken-heart syndrome. Her heart ached every time her mother’s did. It killed Melanie to see the pain her mom went through. Maybe, she thought, this would be the last for a while. Maybe she’d be able to convince Mom to take a hiatus from dating.

Lost in thought, she jolted when her cell phone rang. Probably Mom, calling to see if she needed to stop and pick anything up. Without looking at the display, Melanie said, “We’re all set unless you want dessert. And dinner should be on the table in like ten minutes, so I hope you’re on your way.”

The words were barely out of her mouth, when she heard the front door open.

“Dinner, eh? I thought you’d never ask, darlin’.” Jace’s deep voice emanated through the line. “Sounds great. Where at?”

Ugh. What was he calling her about? “Obviously, I thought you were someone else. And you’re not invited to dinner. Sorry for getting your hopes up.”

Loretta entered the kitchen and smiled in greeting. “Who wants to come to dinner? Is it Tara?” she asked, speaking of Melanie’s best friend. “Have her join us!”

Before answering, Melanie gave her a quick once-over, searching for any signs of distress. Her gray-blue eyes were clear, so she hadn’t cried on the way home. And, Melanie noted, she’d had her medium-brown hair cut into a wispy sort of bob that suited the fine features of her face. She looked good. Happy, even. Which meant she was well on her way to recovery.

“Hello?” Jace said loudly. “Did you hang up on me, Mello Yello?”

Loretta appraised Melanie with a speculative gleam. “That very masculine-sounding voice can’t possibly be Tara. Who’s on the phone, dear?”

Uh-oh. Sensing a danger zone rapidly approaching, Melanie covered the phone with one hand. “It’s no one. Just a guy I work with.” Into the phone, she said, “I haven’t hung up on you. Yet. You’ve got five seconds, Jace. What do you want?”

“That’s a leading question, Mel,” Jace said in a light, almost teasing tone that caused her heart to skip a beat. “But seeing how I promised to avoid any and all types of sexual innuendo, I’ll get right to the point.”

“Jace as in Jace Foster? I read his columns all the time,” Loretta said from Melanie’s left side. “Why does he want to come for dinner? Oh! Are you two dating?”

“No,” she said to her mother. To Jace, she said, “Yes, please. Getting right to the point would be—” The sizzling sound of water boiling over stopped her midsentence. “Actually, hold that thought.” Slamming the phone down on the table, Melanie raced to the stove and pulled the pot of pasta off the burner.

“Is this Jace Foster?” She heard Mom say behind her. “This is Loretta Prentiss. Melanie’s mother? I’m a huge fan of your ‘Man About Town’ column.” She gave a delighted laugh. “Really! I’ve always read the Gazette—even before Melanie started working there.”

And there she goes, Melanie thought with a great deal of humor. Mom, she knew, would chatter about anything and everything if given the chance. That was fine. Mom could talk to Jace while Melanie cleaned up the pasta mess and finished getting dinner ready. If she was lucky, he’d beg out of the conversation and Melanie wouldn’t have to talk to him until tomorrow.

“You should come for dinner, Jace,” Loretta all but gushed. “I’ll give you the address. Do you have something to write with?”

“Mom! No!” Melanie said loudly. Maybe too loudly. “Give me the phone back.”

“Please excuse me for a second, Jace. My daughter is trying to talk with me. Yes, I know she can be quite stubborn.” Turning toward Melanie, she said, “What is it? And why didn’t you tell me you were involved with someone?”

“Because I’m not. Did he tell you we were? We are not dating.” She held her hand out palm-side up. “The phone, Mom.”

Disappointment gathered in her mother’s eyes. “I guess I should’ve known better, but you can’t blame a mother for hoping. And I don’t see why he can’t join us for dinner.”

Melanie lowered her voice in the hopes that Jace wouldn’t hear her. “I spent all day with him. I don’t want to spend the evening with him, too. Besides, this is supposed to be time for you and me. Remember?”

Loretta gave her a considering look, but nodded. “I think there’s more to it, and you’ll explain every bit of it to me later.” Pressing the phone back to her ear, she said, “I’m very sorry, Jace. It seems my daughter requires some mother-daughter time tonight. Perhaps we can plan something for the future?”

“Thank you.” More relieved than she ought to be, Melanie removed the garlic bread from the oven and turned off the stove burners. Then, ready to discover why Jace had called to begin with, she went to reclaim her phone.

Her mom was pacing the length of the kitchen as she talked. Melanie waved to get her attention. Mom gave her the “one more minute” sign, saying, “Isn’t that sweet of you? If that’s the case, you’ll definitely have dinner with us.”

This couldn’t be happening. “Mom? I thought we agreed—”

“No, no, don’t worry about that. We’ll keep everything warm until you get here. It isn’t a problem at all, especially with you going out of your way and all.” Mom shot her a warning glance before rattling off the address. “Okay, Jace. We’ll see you soon.”

Melanie stared at her mother in disbelief. “What just happened?”

“Don’t you look at me that way, Melanie Ann. I didn’t have a choice.” She walked around Melanie and returned the bread to the oven. “But I’m sorry if you’re upset.”

“What just happened?” Melanie repeated through gritted teeth as her mother stirred the sauce, turned the burner on again and covered the pan with a lid.

“He’s doing you a favor,” Loretta said briskly. “The least we can do is offer him dinner for his troubles.”

“Uh-huh. I’ve had enough of Jace Foster’s favors for today.” And somehow, he’d talked her into a ridiculous bet that she wished she’d never agreed to. “What is it this time?”

Pouring the pasta into a large bowl, Loretta said, “He’s returning your laptop, which you apparently left in his office today.” She let the weight of that sit for a good thirty seconds. “What was I supposed to do? Tell him he could drop it off but not invite him in? And if he’s going to visit for a while, we might as well feed him.”

Oh, hell. Melanie couldn’t fault her mother’s logic. Or, for that matter, Jace’s actions. Even if she hadn’t remembered until now that she had forgotten her laptop. “Yay, we’ll hold dinner for him. How thrilling,” she muttered under her breath.

Leaving the dinner preparations, Loretta came forward and pulled Melanie into a hug. She smelled like the salon. A combination of fruity and floral shampoos, hair sprays and the chemicals from the hair treatments she’d given that day. In other words, she smelled like Mom.

“You seem really upset over this, sweetheart. I don’t understand why, but how bad can one little dinner be?” Mom said as they separated. “How about if I plead exhaustion after we eat? That will have him on his way in no time.”

The balls of stress that had begun to tighten in Melanie’s muscles relaxed. “That would be perfect. Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“Yesterday, as a matter of fact. But I can never hear it too often. And I love you, too.”

Taking three plates and three bowls out of the cupboard, Melanie started to set the table. Jace. Here. For dinner. She almost felt as if the entire universe was working to put them in the same room as often as possible. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I have a professional relationship with Jace. Could we keep anything too personal out of the dinner conversation?”

“What constitutes as too personal?” Loretta asked with more than a tinge of humor. “Be exact, dear. You know how I am.”

“Anything that has to do with Dad, for one thing.” Dumb, maybe, but Melanie did not want Jace in on the whole “my father abandoned us and never looked back” story. “Oh, and anything to do with your love life or my dating history.”

With a snort, her mom said, “What dating history? The boy I had to bribe you to go to senior prom with? Or the blind dates that Tara convinced you to go on? Or—”

“Right. All of that.”

“Because I don’t know about anyone else you’ve dated.” Her mom’s razor-sharp gaze zeroed in on hers. “I don’t even know if you’ve ever had sex!”

“Mom! Jeez, that’s what I’m talking about. Don’t you think that’s a little too much information between mother and daughter? Even as close as we are?”

“I’ve never had an issue discussing sex with you,” Mom pointed out. “You’re the one who shies away from any talk of intimacy.”

“Because for most people, intimacy is private. But for the record, so we never have to have this discussion again, I’ve had sex.” Melanie grabbed a handful of silverware. “And why are you bringing this up now, moments before my…um…coworker arrives?”

Her mother, naturally, ignored that question and asked a new one. “Well, have you ever had really great sex?”

Melanie gurgled a non-reply and continued setting the table. She was not, under any circumstances, going to answer that question.

“That’s a no,” Mom said, adding a drinking glass to each of the place settings. “Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry. Every woman deserves a few nights filled with great sex.”

“It is not a no or a yes,” Melanie countered. “More like an ‘I don’t want to talk about this, so I’m not going to.’”

“How did I raise a daughter so afraid of intimacy?”

And that was another question that Melanie was not going to answer. Ever. “I’m not afraid of intimacy, Mom.” She didn’t consider herself afraid, anyway. Careful, maybe. And intelligent. There was nothing wrong with either of those traits. “I like my life the way it is. Whether or not I’ve had great sex has nothing to do with my life. It is a nonissue for me.”

“Hmm,” Mom murmured. “That, my darling daughter, is how I know you’ve never had great sex. Because if you had, you wouldn’t be so quick to call not having it a nonissue.”

It was at times like this that Melanie wished desperately for a sibling. She wasn’t picky. Either a brother or a sister would do. All she needed was someone to divert Mom’s attention every now and then.

“You know what we should do?” she asked in an effort to change the subject. “We should visit a few animal shelters this weekend and find a lovable dog or cat for you. It must get lonely here sometimes.”

“Don’t be silly, Melanie. I’m not home enough to properly care for a pet.” Leaning over, she plopped a kiss on Melanie’s cheek. “And I have you.”

“Just think about it, okay?”

“Sure. If you think about getting yourself some great sex.” The doorbell rang, announcing Jace’s arrival. Mom nodded in the general direction of the front door. “And perhaps you should consider having that great sex with him. He seems like the type of man who knows—”

Melanie grasped her mother’s shoulders lightly, interrupting her. “Mom, I need you to stop talking about sex right now. Especially sex with Jace. Okay? Please? I’m begging.”

“I knew it! You like him.” Her mother smiled and patted her cheek. “Stop worrying, Melanie. I’ll behave. We wouldn’t want to scare him off, now would we?”

“There is nothing to scare him off from.” Melanie turned on her heel and went to let Jace in. Never again, she promised herself, would she ignore a bad-day vibe. The next time a day began with something as foretelling as burning her own hair, she’d jump back into bed and hide until the sun rose again.

Her ill-fated decision not to do so that morning had led her from one fiasco to another, and she had a feeling that the ramifications were going to keep on coming until she put Valentine’s Day—and working with Jace—behind her.

But first, she had to get through dinner. And, thanks to her mother, try to have a normal conversation with Jace without thinking about sex. Great sex, at that.

Melanie opened the door, and the earth shook beneath Jace’s feet. Metaphorically speaking, of course. He hadn’t yet decided if the sensation appealed or scared him witless. Maybe a bit of both, depending on the day.

She wore the same jeans and T-shirt from earlier, but the muddied orange-red stain blobbed beneath her collar was new. Judging by the scents emanating from the house, he put his money on spaghetti sauce. Her shoulders were tense, her mouth firm. Signs that clearly said the lady was not happy to see him.

Oh, well. What else had he expected?

“Your laptop,” he said as he handed it over. “You left it on, so I saved your file before shutting it down.” Lifting the bakery box he held in his other hand, he offered that to her, as well. “You mentioned no dessert, so I stopped on the way and picked up a pie. Apple.”

“Why, Jace Foster, my hero as I live and breathe,” she drawled in an excellent Southern belle imitation. “I think I’m in love.”

“Gee, Mel, that was the easiest bet I ever won.” He stuck his thumbs in his pockets and leaned against the doorjamb. “And all it took was an apple pie. Good thing I already have our date planned. Free this weekend?”

Her tongue darted out to lick her lips. “You’re a funny man.” Tilting her head to the side, she said, “You might as well come in. My mother is beyond excited to meet you. Apparently, you’re the main topic of conversation at the salon she owns.”

“I got that impression.” He almost mentioned that his mother was just as excited to meet the “mystery woman from work that her son was interested in,” but chose not to. That information probably wouldn’t go over well. He started to walk forward, but stopped midstride. “Tell your mother I said thank you for her gracious invitation, but I’m going to take off. You don’t want me here, and despite what you seem to think, my goal is not to make you uncomfortable. I’d be happy to show Loretta around the paper, though, if she were to happen to come by.”

Melanie gave him a long, searching look and sighed. “Okay, that’s sweet of you, and I haven’t exactly been welcoming. I apologize. It’s been a long day, and I’m… Well, let’s leave it there.” Hefting her laptop under her arm, she continued. “But thank you for bringing this over. I’d have been worried once I remembered. It was a nice gesture.”

“I’m a nice guy.” Not that she believed that. But he was bound to prove it to her. “So, you have a good night, and we’ll get together tomorrow. I’d like to start interviews next week.”

“Oh, to hell with it.” She glanced over her shoulder, as if to make sure they were alone. “If you want to stay for dinner, I suppose that would be okay. And,” she said with a hesitant grin, “you’ll save me from endless questioning if you’re here.”

“Mothers love asking questions. Mine does, anyway. But she’s sneaky about it. Half the time, you don’t realize you’re being grilled until she’s sated her curiosity.”

Melanie laughed, and his heart sort of popped in his chest. “Mine doesn’t bother being sneaky. She puts whatever she wants out there and expects to be answered. I love her for that, though. I tend to be more restrained.”

He blinked. “Um, Melanie, I hate to point this out, but you’re the least restrained woman I have ever met.”

Shock and uneasiness washed out her complexion. “I…guess it depends on the topic. And maybe the medium.” She shrugged, as if doing so would dismiss the subject as meaningless. Jace wasn’t fooled. Melanie saw herself in a far different way than he saw her. He wanted to know why. “You should come in before I change my mind.”

Curiosity raged, but he set it aside. “You’re sure?”

“No. But come in anyway.”

He followed her in and glanced at his surroundings. The ranch-style house was small, so the front door led directly into the rectangular-shaped living room. Straight ahead, he guessed, was the kitchen, with the bedrooms and bathroom down the hall to the right. A simple home, but one that looked lived-in and comfortable.

The room they stood in held a long, country-blue-patterned sofa against the back wall, with a matching love seat on one side and two overstuffed chairs on the other. By the variety of plants scattered throughout, he’d say Melanie’s mother had a green thumb. Framed photos were clustered on the sill of the bay window, on the end tables, and a few hung on the walls.

“Did you grow up here?” he asked Melanie, giving in to his need to know more about her. “Or are you a Portland transplant?”

“Not a transplant. I’ve lived here all my life. Well, I have my own place now, but you know what I mean.” Walking into the kitchen, she deposited the laptop and the bakery box on the counter. “So,” she said from the kitchen doorway, a tiny frown marring her expression. “I’d say let’s eat, but I’m not sure where my mom went. I’m warning you, the pasta has been done for a while. It might not be all that appetizing by the time we get to it.”

“With enough sauce, anything is edible.”

“True enough. I should go check on her, see if she’s okay. Do you mind?”

“Of course not,” Jace assured her. Striding toward the sofa, he picked up a magazine from the coffee table. “I’ll look through this while I wait. Take your time.”

The worry lines in her forehead melted into tickled amusement. “Okay, Jace. You enjoy that copy of Cosmo while I track down my mother.”

He started to reply but stopped when a woman with the most dazzling smile he’d ever seen floated into the room. Even if he wasn’t in her house, he’d recognize her as Melanie’s mother. They had the same shape to their eyes, their mouths. Even the way they held their bodies was reminiscent of each other, though Loretta had a solid two inches of height on her daughter—even taking her high heels into consideration—and her hair was a full shade darker.

“Mom, what’s going on?” Melanie asked in a worry-laden tone. “You’re wearing a dress. We never…um…dress for dinner.” She shot Jace an apologetic look.

Loretta, ignoring her daughter, rushed over to Jace. Without an ounce of self-consciousness, she studied his face with complete and utter thoroughness. Strangely, he didn’t find it disconcerting in the least.

“I knew you were a handsome devil, but your photo in the paper doesn’t do you justice.” Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a business card and pressed it into his hand. “One of my customers is a photographer. Call her and get a new publicity photo taken. But first—”

“Ah…okay. Thanks.” Jace tucked the card into his pocket.

Squinting her eyes in continued appraisal, she gripped his jaw lightly. “Turn to the side, so I can see your haircut better.”

Not about to argue, he turned to the side. While Loretta fluffed and fluttered with his hair, he winked at Melanie. She held up her hands in the universally known gesture of “What can I do?” while mouthing the word “Sorry.”

Loretta clicked her tongue against her teeth, making a tsk-tsk sound. “Who styles your hair?” she asked in a disgusted huff. “And do they use scissors or a dull knife?”

“Scissors,” he replied cautiously. “As to who… Different people, I guess. I just hit a QuickCuts every so often.”

Melanie snickered from across the room. “Ooh, wrong answer. That’s about to change,” she said. “But Mom, as much as I hate interfering here, we did invite Jace to dinner.”

“That’s right, we did.” Backing off from Jace, Loretta placed her hands on her hips. “I’ll be doing your hair from here on out.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied instantly, knowing better than to argue with the mother of a woman he was interested in. “Whatever you say.”

“However, you two will have to get through dinner without me.” Loretta slung her purse over her shoulder and faced Melanie. “I got a phone call while you were talking with Jace, dear. It seems I have an unexpected date for the evening. Lock up when you leave, but keep the living room lights on. And don’t worry.”

Melanie darted a glance toward Jace before focusing on her mother. “You’re going out? Already? Don’t you think you need a little more time to recover?”

Jace couldn’t see Loretta’s face, but when she spoke, he heard the anticipation sparkling in her voice. “You’ve always been such a worrywart. But this is going to be a good night, so you can stop fretting. I promise I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.”

Every part of Melanie’s face crumpled. In concern or anxiety or a mix of both, he couldn’t say. “Be careful, Mom. I’ll… Call me when you get home if you need an ear.”

Mother and daughter hugged. Loretta whispered something that Jace couldn’t hear, but a scarlet flush appeared and spread like wildfire across Melanie’s cheeks. “You two have fun!” Loretta said before letting herself out.

Visibly rattled, Melanie sort of wobbled, sort of fell into a chair. “I can’t believe she’s putting herself through this already.”

“Putting herself through what? She seemed happy and excited.” Jace closed the distance between them and took a seat in the other chair.

“Love,” Melanie said with an extra-large helping of venom. “Not only is it the theme of our article, but it’s the theme of my mother’s entire life. A life that she’s spent searching—” Then, as if realizing she’d said more than she intended, she clamped her jaw shut. Hard.

Jace stared at her while warring with himself. Push Melanie into sharing whatever was going on in her head, or keep his mouth closed? If he could get her to open up anywhere, it would be here, in a place where she felt comfortable. And she was obviously distressed. He’d like to think he could be of help. On the other side of that, it should be up to Melanie to decide where—if anywhere—this conversation should go.

Every one of his muscles thrummed with the potent need to do something. But he didn’t know what something was the right something. What was his goal? Getting information or helping Melanie feel better? Both if possible, but if he were forced to choose? The answer hit him like an arrow to the chest.