A Match Made by Cupid (Harlequin Special Edition) (5 page)

“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.

Going on instinct, he said, “Mel? What do you need from me right this second?”

“I don’t know,” she said in a fatigued, almost wooden voice. “I’m tired, I guess. Worried.”

“Should I leave?” He certainly didn’t want to, but he would if she answered in the affirmative. Even so, he was already planning what lame excuse he’d use when he called her from home to check in. Sleep would be impossible unless he knew she was okay.

“I don’t know,” she repeated. “I guess we could talk about work.... No, I don’t want to talk about work. I just… Damn it! I feel like I’m the mother here, the way I worry about her.”

“You love her,” he said. “Why wouldn’t you worry?”

“She just keeps making the same mistakes, over and over.”

“Do you want to talk about that? I’m happy to listen.”

Heaving another breath, Melanie shook her head. “I really don’t.”

“Okay,” he said. “We don’t have to talk at all, Mel. We could eat some dinner, watch an hour or two of mindless television, and call it a night. Or I can leave. Whatever you want.”

She bolted to her feet. “Oh, no. Dinner. It has to be ruined by now.”

“So we’ll make something else. No biggie.”

He was all set to be shown to the door, but instead she nodded. “All right. Dinner and TV. I’m surprised you don’t have something better to do tonight. None of your ladies are waiting by their phone for a call?”

“At the moment, the only ladies in my life are my mother and sister-in-law,” he said quietly. “Are you ever going to—” He stopped, shook his head. Now wasn’t the time. “No one is waiting for me,” he finished. “So let’s see about the food.”

The spaghetti was trashed. They settled for burgers, which Melanie topped with all the fixings. A salad appeared seemingly out of thin air, and Jace’s entire contribution to the meal was opening a bag of potato chips and pouring each of them a glass of wine.

Plates in hand, they retraced their steps to the living room and found an atrociously bad horror movie to watch. Not many women appreciated the glory of a bad horror film, but Melanie did. Something that both surprised and pleased him. They batted comments back and forth about the far-fetched plot, subpar special effects and off-the-wall dialogue. Other than that, though, they didn’t attempt to hold a conversation. It was easy and relaxed, almost jarringly so.

At the end of the evening, when it was time to head out, he said, “So, tomorrow. I have some research planned for the morning. I’m going to call Kurt and let him know we won’t be in, that we’re working in the field. That way, you can stay here tonight to talk with your mom, and we can meet up sometime tomorrow afternoon. Does that work for you?”