A Match Made by Cupid (Harlequin Special Edition) (16 page)

Oh, hell no. She hadn’t just thought that, had she?

Yep, she had. She blinked, grabbed her water glass and took a long swallow. Was she really falling for
the
Jace Foster, playboy extraordinaire? Every logical and anal-retentive gene in Melanie’s body screamed “No!” but her heart begged to differ.

“You okay, Mello Yello?” Jace asked from her left side. “You look a little pale.”

“Yes, fine. Just enjoying this fantastic dinner,” she said brightly. “It really is wonderful, Karen. I wish I could cook like this.”

Karen beamed at Melanie. “Thank you! I’m glad you’re enjoying the meal. Though, if you ask John, he’ll tell you I couldn’t boil water when we were first married.”

“True enough,” John piped in. “And I was equally as useless in the kitchen. We ate a lot of cereal and frozen dinners back then.” He grinned at the memory. “One day, I came home to find Karen sitting in the kitchen, crying her heart out with a pile of cookbooks surrounding her.”

“I found out I was pregnant with Grady that morning,” Karen explained.

“And she had it in her head that unless she learned to cook
that day,
she was doomed to being a horrible mother.” John leveled his gaze with Karen’s, and Melanie knew he was seeing her as he had back then. Young and scared, and probably so very beautiful. “So we learned how to cook together, and by the time Grady came along, no one was starving in this house.”

Melanie couldn’t stop the rush of gooey, sentimental emotion from sweeping in, nor could she stop herself from saying, “I think that’s the most romantic story I’ve ever heard.”

Jace started in surprise next to her, but wisely kept his mouth shut. If he hadn’t, she probably would’ve kicked him in the shin.

“Well, John has never been a flowery, poetic man,” Karen said. “But don’t let that fool you. This man is a romantic through and through.” She nodded at her sons. “He’s passed that trait on to our boys. All three of them.”

Grady and Jace fidgeted in their chairs at the same instant, which caused everyone else to laugh, including Melanie. She liked this family. A lot, even. And she wouldn’t mind having the opportunity to spend more time with them.

Suddenly, the atmosphere grew heavier. So heavy that Melanie could almost feel the weight of the air pressing against her skin.

“Okay, so I heard from Kurt about the drunk-driving article. About Cody’s article,” Jace said quietly. “He wants me to make a couple of small changes, check a few of my facts, but other than that, he’s approved the article to run. It should be in next Monday’s edition. I need to know if any of you are having second thoughts.” His gaze swept the table, landing on his parents first but stopping on Grady and Olivia. “If so, this is the time to tell me.”

Melanie had no idea what article Jace referred to, but she also wasn’t about to ask. Not when everyone looked so somber.

Olivia blinked rapidly, as if trying to hold back a sudden onslaught of tears. “I haven’t changed my mind, Jace. I meant to thank you right off. The… What you wrote about Cody is beautiful and perfect and… Well, what I mean to say is thank you. Just thank you.”

“We all feel the same, son,” John said. “We’re damn proud. I hope you know that.”

Jace coughed to clear his throat. When he spoke, there was a thick quality to his voice that hit Melanie hard. “It was something I had to do. For all of us.”

Without knowing why, she reached under the table to grasp his hand, to offer him comfort. He squeezed back. Everyone stayed quiet for a few minutes, then Grady broke the silence by asking Melanie, “Have you seen the article?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t…I don’t know what this is about.”

“I haven’t told her about Cody,” Jace said. “I thought everyone should meet first.”

Grady nodded, looked at his wife. “You okay if I do this?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “Talking about him is good.”

So Grady shared a story that broke Melanie’s heart into pieces. About his and Olivia’s son, Cody, about the tragic car accident three years earlier that had stolen the child’s life and how Jace had written an article that was part human-interest, part informational, but that his goal was to “get people to think.”

Would this man ever stop surprising her? Somehow, she didn’t think so. The real question was whether she was capable of giving what he seemed to want from her.

She didn’t know. But maybe she was ready to find out.

Jace watched Melanie fish her keys out of her purse, hoping she’d invite him in but not about to ask. The evening had gone well, and he knew his family adored her. Even now, his mother was probably talking his father’s ear off about someday grandbabies and how she’d worried that Jace would never find a woman he’d want to settle down with.

Or maybe not. Maybe his mother had always known it would take a special woman to steal his heart. A sarcastic, quick-witted woman who had no inkling of what she did to him, of the beauty she held. A woman like Melanie.

And she had liked his family. He didn’t have to guess on that one; she’d told him straight out during the ride to her place. She’d also agreed to use Grady and Olivia for the article and had suggested they consider using his folks, too. Their story had really gotten to her.

So, yes, the night had been pretty damn perfect.

Melanie unlocked the front door and pushed it open. He watched her back straighten and go rigid before she faced him. Uh-oh. An edge of worry sank into his gut.

She gave him a determined, hell-hath-no-fury type of look. “So, I’ve been thinking about what you said at the Breckenridges’.” Her nostrils flared, showing a hint of her temper. “You cannot simply decree we are dating and make it so. You are not king.”

“Whoa there, Mel.”

“No.” She inhaled a sharp-sounding breath. “You
whoa
and let me speak. I should have said this earlier.”

Hell. He’d hoped that tonight might have helped her see him more clearly. Now he had to wonder if she was about to give him the boot.

“We are two people, Jace.
Two.
And that means that I get a fifty-percent vote in anything to do with us. But you seem to keep forgetting that.”

Us? Maybe this
wasn’t
going where he thought. Smiling, he gestured for her to continue.

“Unless I am somehow mentally or physically incapacitated or I tell you otherwise, you don’t get to make decisions for me without my involvement.” Putting her hands on her hips, she narrowed her eyes. “Does this make sense to you?”

“Yes,” he said, readily admitting she had a point. Even that he might have pushed too hard. But damn, it seemed senseless waiting for her to come around to what he already knew. “I tend to see what I want and go for it,” he explained. “And it isn’t as if you’re the most forthcoming woman I’ve ever met. You tend to make me a little crazy.”

“The feeling is mutual.” She continued to stare at him, as if waiting for him to say more.

He racked his brain, trying to figure out what. Oh. “I’m, ah, sorry for decreeing that we were dating?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Telling! I’m sorry I played king. Totally sorry.”

Her stance softened a minute amount. “Apology accepted. Now—”

“Right. Go on in and lock up.” He said the words fast, not wanting to actually hear her telling him to get lost. He’d see her tomorrow. He could—would—fix this then. “I…I can’t leave while you’re standing outside this time of night.”

She blinked. “What?”

Confused, he gave himself a second to consider why she might sound annoyed. But then he got it. She’d just freaking told him to stop making decisions for her, and what did he go and do? Yeah. He told her what to do. Cringing, he backed up a few paces. “I need to know you’re safe before I leave. That’s all I meant.”

Comprehension flickered into being. “Did I ask you to leave?”

“No.”

“Then why are you leaving?”

“Because you’re, ah, angry with my kinglike attitude?” Whipping his fingers through his hair, he tried, oh, how he tried, to figure out what the hell was happening now.

“I’m not mad, Jace. Just setting some ground rules.” She rolled her bottom lip into her mouth. “We can date, but we take this one day at a time. One
step
at a time.”

A whoosh of relief, so strong it nearly knocked him on his ass, came over him. “I’m good with steps,” he said, going for calm, cool and collected. Inside, though, there was a friggin’ band playing and cheerleaders swishing their pom-poms in the air. “Does that mean I’m invited in?”

“For a man who’s spent most of his adult life seducing women, you’re pretty clueless about females, aren’t you?” Before he could respond, she pivoted on her heel and walked inside. Over her shoulder, she said, “Yes, you’re invited in. I’m going upstairs to take a long, hot bubble bath. Perhaps you’d like to join me?”

She didn’t have to ask him twice.

Chapter Ten

S
lightly past eight the next morning, Jace, wearing yesterday’s clothes, padded barefoot into Melanie’s kitchen to start a pot of coffee. He’d showered, but he’d have to go home for fresh clothing before their lunch date with Loretta and…what was his name? Oh, yes. Wade.

But he decided he’d wait and see if Melanie would join him. He had this notion of showing her his house, of all the work he’d done to the place. But at the moment, the lady was still curled up in bed, fast asleep. Good, he thought as he filled the pot with water. She needed her rest.

They’d kept each other awake long into the night until, somewhere around three, exhaustion had claimed them both. He woke with Melanie’s head on his chest, and her hair, soft and fragrant, clouding around him. He held her for a bit, waiting to see if she’d wake. She hadn’t, so he figured he’d shower, find his way around her kitchen and bring her breakfast in bed as a small example of the wooing he’d promised her.

Then he’d tell her the truth about “Bachelor on the Loose.” He wanted her to know that he wasn’t
that
guy, for his sake as much as for hers.

Another thought occurred and he groaned. Based on their conversation last night, he should come clean about the background search he’d instigated on David Prentiss. Jace hadn’t heard anything yet, but he’d put in the request over a week ago. It probably wouldn’t be too much longer.

How steamed would she be? Anxiety bubbled through his veins. Plenty steamed. The question was, would she forgive him? Would their “take this one step at a time” agreement hold through the storm? Hell if he knew.

His gaze landed on her laptop, which she’d left on the kitchen table, and an idea struck. Going with it, he powered on the computer. Fixing this was simple. All he had to do was send another email to the investigator, this one stating that Jace had changed his mind. If he never received any information about Melanie’s father, then he wouldn’t necessarily have to share his well-intentioned lapse in judgment.

Okay, a fine line, but an acceptable one as far as Jace was concerned. Or if he did give in to his need-to-share-all complex, then at least Melanie would know he’d listened to her and had acted accordingly. Yeah, either way it went, he’d come out better by stopping the investigation before it got started.

As soon as the laptop was ready to go, Jace pulled up his email provider’s website, typed in his username and password, and hit Enter. Scanning his in-box, he expelled a sigh of relief when he didn’t see an email from his contact. Awesome. Luck was on his side today. He composed the email quickly and hit Send.

There. Done.

Much more relaxed, Jace poured himself a cup of coffee before sitting down again at the table. Might as well go through his other emails before preparing breakfast. He wasn’t much of a cook, but if Melanie had eggs and cheese on hand, he could make a fairly decent cheese omelet. And toast. He could definitely manage toast.

Again, he scanned his inbox, this time looking at each individual email address, rather than simply searching for a specific one. Ah. Seth had written him.

After his impromptu visit with Seth’s friend, Rebecca, Jace had informed his brother that the woman was fine and that Seth shouldn’t worry. All true, as far as that went. But Jace hadn’t mentioned that Rebecca was also pregnant. Well, Jace
thought
she was pregnant, though he couldn’t say for sure. But he had to wonder if Seth was the unknowing father or if there was another man in her life that Seth didn’t know about.

Regardless, Jace refused to drop that news when his brother couldn’t do a damn thing about it. His brother’s focus needed to be solid in order to do his job, in order to stay safe. And it wasn’t as if Jace knew anything for certain. He didn’t. Of course, Jace would tell Seth every last detail once he was stateside again. Until then, he’d keep his mouth shut and try to find ways to unobtrusively check in on Rebecca’s well-being.

Clicking open Seth’s email, Jace read: “Thanks, bro. Good to know she’s fine.” He penned a quick reply and was three seconds away from exiting the system when another email dropped into his in-box. A reply from his contact.

Bloody hell.

His investigator friend had been compiling his report on David Prentiss when he received Jace’s request. Since he’d already completed the work, he sent the file on. The sick feeling in Jace’s stomach returned. He didn’t open the attachment, but the email spelled out what he would find when he did: David’s home address in Gresham—literally minutes away—phone number and a few other basic facts gleaned from public records.

Okay, so luck wasn’t with him today.

Jace logged out of his email and turned off the laptop. Rubbing his hands over his eyes, he tried to work out what words he’d use to explain this to Melanie. He thought back to the day she rushed into his office, her eyes blazing and ears smoking, after learning about the deal he’d made with Kurt. She’d absolutely been steamed. But after a while, she calmed down and listened. The same would happen with this. Probably.

No longer hungry, Jace went to wake his sleeping beauty and give her news that he hoped, when all was said and done, she’d be—if not happy—relieved to have. He hadn’t yet made it to the stairs when a knock on the front door altered his direction. Another knock and a long, plaintive peal of the doorbell sounded off before he crossed the few feet to the door.

Opening it, he found Melanie’s mother on the other side. Red-rimmed eyes framed in black blobs of runny mascara clued him in on her state of mind. Concerned by what he saw, he ushered her into the house and led her to Melanie’s pale-yellow-and-green-striped couch.

Sitting next to her, he took her hand in his. “What happened?” he asked.

“Is m-my daughter h-here?” Loretta’s smudged eyelashes fluttered in a series of heavy blinks. “She was r-right, you know. She usually is.”

“Right about what?” he asked gently, though he was fairly sure of where this was headed.

“Wade.” She blinked again, and two huge teardrops rolled down her cosmetic-smeared cheeks. “M-maybe everything else, too. She doesn’t believe in love, you see. Doesn’t th-think it’s possible to trust your heart to a m-man without being hurt.”

“Mom? What’s wrong?” Melanie’s anxious voice whisked into the room as she nearly tripped head over heels in her rush to get down the stairs.

The sound of her daughter’s voice forced a long, emotional shudder through Loretta’s body. And then, another wrenching bout of sobs.

“Oh, God, Mom,” Melanie said when she got close enough to get a good look at Loretta. Taking the seat on the other side of her, Melanie carefully tucked her mother’s hair behind her ear. As if she was the mother and Loretta the child. “I’m here. We can get through anything together, you know that. So tell me, what happened?”

In one of those seconds of pure knowledge people were sometimes gifted with, Jace realized the scene in front of him was one that had played out many, many times between mother and daughter. Probably throughout most of Melanie’s life.

“It’s over. Already,” Loretta whispered. She pulled her left hand free from Jace’s grasp and rubbed her bare ring finger. “He…he said I could keep the ring, b-but who wants an engagement ring if there isn’t going to be a wedding?”

“You gave him back the ring?” Melanie asked.

“I th-threw it at him and told him to get out.” Loretta heaved a breath. “Wh-what am I going to do?”

Melanie gently stroked her mother’s hair. “First, you’re going to go upstairs and wash your face. While you’re doing that, I’ll make us some tea. I have chamomile, and that always helps relax you. Then we’ll sit right here and you can tell me the whole story.”

Loretta nodded and pulled herself to her feet. “Yes. Tea. Tea w-would be good.”

Melanie waited for her mother to disappear up the flight of stairs before focusing on Jace. “I’m sorry, Jace, but I need to be alone with my mother. This… Getting her to some semblance of functional again will take most of the day.” Then, with a shake of her caramel-colored hair, she said, “Or longer. This is the worst I’ve seen her in years.”

“Of course, Mel. I understand this is a private moment.” He started to reach for her but didn’t. There was a glazed-over fogginess in her eyes that bothered him. “How about if I bring us some dinner later? Let me take care of you after you take care of your mother.”

“I don’t need taking care of,” she said, her voice slightly bewildered. “
I’m
not hurting. My mother is.”

“Aw, darlin’, we all need taking care of every now and then.” Giving in, he reached for her and pulled her close. She smelled soft and feminine and flowery. “What is so wrong with a little extra attention after you’ve had a particularly tough day?”

Her body relaxed and loosened in his embrace. Tightening his hold, he rested his chin in her hair. When she nuzzled his neck with her cheek, he knew he’d won.

“Will you bring Mexican food and really cold beer? Icy cold?” she mumbled. “Oh, and the richest, darkest, most decadent chocolate cake you can find.” She sighed, already seemingly exhausted. “I’m always starving at the end of Day One.”

“You got it.” God. This had happened often enough that they’d established a pattern? That also bothered him. Couldn’t Loretta see what this was doing to Melanie?

Well, he was here now. Here to stay, if he had anything to say about it.

Melanie paced a steady path along her living room floor while waiting for Jace to show. Tight darts of pain ping-ponged between her temples, causing her stomach to churn. This breakup was bad. So bad, she’d insisted that Loretta spend the night at her place. Mom had agreed and was now resting upstairs.

Loretta’s string of failed relationships had added to and fined-tuned the coping steps Melanie used to get her through her grief. Chamomile tea was the first step. While sipping and sobbing, the details of whatever had happened would emerge.

After which, Melanie would commiserate by saying everything that Mom needed to hear: “Yes, he acted like a jerk,” “No, this is not your fault,” “Yes, you absolutely can do better,” “I know you thought he might be the one, Mom,” and finally, “I’m so sorry.”

Anger tended to come next, followed by another round of heart-wrenching sobs. Sometimes, more tea was involved. Other times, one—but not more than two—stiff drinks proved more helpful. Then, with every level of emotion purged from Loretta’s body, Melanie would sit behind her on the sofa and brush her hair in long, rhythmic strokes.

This particular step began when Melanie was nine. When she was a teenager, she’d accidentally added another component by comparing an ex from Loretta’s past with the most current ex. Obviously, Mom was long over the past boyfriend by then, so the comparison helped her see that she’d get over this heartbreak, as well. Sometimes, a good round of ex-boyfriend bashing would occur. This lent itself to laughter, which was always a plus.

The final steps were a nourishing meal, a hot bubble bath that Melanie would draw and either a movie or TV show if it wasn’t too late or Mom wasn’t sleepy enough for bed. Without fail, this process had always given her mother whatever she needed to get through the next day, and the next, until the crisis passed and a new relationship began.

This time was different.

This time, Loretta was inconsolable. Instead of giving Melanie the details of the breakup, she’d glossed over them, saying only that “things didn’t work out, they never work out.” Then, for the first hour or so, she’d repeatedly said that she didn’t know what to do, that she’d thought she was finally making the right choice, but that she’d failed again.

Every one of Melanie’s coping techniques fell flat. Nothing she said or did seemed to have any effect. And, after that initial rush of emotion, Loretta had become quiet and listless, almost weary. She had an aura of defeat about her that Melanie had only seen once before; the morning after her father’s departure.

Perhaps because Loretta’s feelings for Wade somehow mirrored how she’d felt about David Prentiss. Or perhaps the cause was simpler than that. Out of all of her mother’s relationships, only two men had ever proposed to her: David and Wade. That commonality alone might be enough to trigger similar reactions.

Really, though, Melanie’s main concern was helping her mother get through this. But after her epic failure that day, she didn’t have a clue as to how to proceed. That scared her.

And God knew she loved her mother. Heck, in every other aspect of her life, Loretta was strong, capable, intelligent and loving. In every other aspect, she’d been an incredible mother—loving and supportive, pushing when necessary and giving her daughter space when called for.

But this…inability of hers to stop making the same mistakes over and over and over had worn Melanie out. This time, she wasn’t even sure she
could
help. And the long hours spent trying to do so had rammed in a truth that Melanie had been avoiding.

Yes, she loved her mother, but she refused to
become
her mother.

Maybe Loretta hadn’t learned from her mistakes, but Melanie had. She’d just…forgotten those lessons for a while. She remembered now. Would never let herself forget again. Would never allow herself to need a process that included hot tea and a hair brush in order to feel better.

A car door slammed outside, breaking into her thoughts.
Jace.