A Match Made by Cupid (Harlequin Special Edition) (8 page)

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask where he was off to, but she managed to swallow the words. “So we’re done until next week?”

“Unless I can put something together with Grady and Olivia before then, yes.” Jace packed away his laptop and stood. “Have a good night, Mel. Try not to trip over any dangerous globs of air in the meantime.”

“I’ll try,” she said, matching his light tone with one of her own. “It’s hard, though. Those dang invisible air globs are everywhere.”

He gave her a long, slow look, as if he wanted to say more. In the end, he simply nodded, angled himself toward the door and strode away. She watched him again. She couldn’t help it. When he exited the coffee shop, a feeling of emptiness came over her.

Surely not because Jace had left or because she wished he’d stuck around for longer. And surely not because she wondered where he was off to, if he had a date with a glamorous, non-clumsy, beautiful woman who didn’t have issues about trusting men.

Feeling this way for those reasons would be stupid, and she was not a stupid woman. It had been a long day with a lot of surprises on very little sleep. Of course she was tired and out of sorts. Her meeting with Jace had been an opportunity to think about something other than her mother’s engagement or her father potentially trying to become part of her life again. Jace’s departure signaled the end of their meeting, and therefore a return to her earlier worries.

Yes, she decided, the cause for this sudden, engulfing loneliness wasn’t because of Jace at all. His presence combined with their chat about work had simply shielded her from emotions she already had. In the absence of both, they came flooding back.

It was a good argument, she thought as she gathered her belongings, tossed her paper coffee cup in the trash and headed toward the parking lot. A valid, completely logical argument…except for one thing. Melanie wasn’t thinking about her mother or her father when Jace walked out the door. No, she’d been thinking about him, that deep, almost searching look he’d just given her and his comment about proving to her that he was trustworthy.

He
had been in her mind.

Now in her car, Melanie pulled the visor down to look in the mini-mirror. Her eyes were darker than normal and somewhat dazed. Her normally pale cheeks were flushed, and when she brushed her fingers down the side of her face, her skin was hot to the touch.

Oh, hell. She’d been wrong earlier, when she convinced herself that spending more time with Jace would help her get over her absurd attraction. After all, the sun’s rays didn’t grow less hot the longer you stood in them. All that happened then was that you got burned.

Chapter Five

S
aturday afternoon, Jace was carrying a bottle of beer and a bowl of popcorn into the living room with the telephone propped between his shoulder and ear. “Thanks for getting back to me,” he said to Kurt. “I’m sorry to bug you over the weekend but was hoping to get the go-ahead on this before Monday.”

Kurt had been out of the office since Thursday with the flu, so Jace had finally left him a message regarding the new approach to the Valentine’s Day feature. In addition, Jace wanted to have a conversation about dropping “Bachelor on the Loose” in favor of a different column.

“Look, I don’t much care how you run the article. Just remember it’s supposed to be a feel-good piece,” Kurt said, his voice raspy.

“Right, and it will be. No problem with that. I just think the bet will draw attention, and the…let’s call it contention…between me and Melanie will prove compelling.”

“Like a train wreck, maybe,” Kurt said. “But whatever sells papers works for me.”

Jace ignored that comment, even if there was some truth there. He deposited the bottle and bowl on the end table before sitting down in his leather recliner. “I also think this format will give Melanie a better chance to show you what she can do.”

Kurt responded with a grunt. “I know damn well what she’s capable of. The problem is she’s unwilling to follow directions. Face it, Jace, the advice column should be a cinch for anyone to write. Hell, my sixteen-year-old daughter could probably do it.”

“
Unwilling
might not be the proper word.” Jace popped the footrest and leaned back, looked longingly at the still-dark television. His game was about to start. “I think it’s more a matter of—” This wasn’t a conversation he should have with the boss. Melanie wouldn’t like it. With that in mind, Jace changed tactics. “Hey, what do you think of posting a few teasers about the bet along with the feature on the
Gazette’
s website for promo?”

“Sure. Shouldn’t be a problem. But Jace, you should know…” Kurt hesitated a second, coughed and then said, “This is a last-shot deal for Melanie. If she screws up again, I can’t give her another chance. There’s too much at stake right now.”

“How can the advice column be a make-or-break deal?” Jace no sooner asked the question than his intuition kicked him in the gut. “Is the paper in trouble?” Kurt’s silence was all the answer Jace needed. Hell, what small newspaper wasn’t struggling nowadays? “How bad is it, Kurt? Should I be looking for another job?”

“No!” Kurt coughed again. “You’re fine. You’re one of our most popular writers, so you’re good. As long as you keep doing what you’ve been doing, I don’t see that changing.”

“Right. Keep doing what I’m doing. Great.” Okay, so he wouldn’t be chatting with Kurt about dropping “Bachelor on the Loose” today. Damn it. “So what’s the trouble? We losing money, readers, costs too high…what’s going on?”

“I’m not even supposed to be talking about this.”

“Aw, come on, Kurt. You can’t drop that kind of news without giving me the entire story.” Besides which, Jace could tell that Kurt wanted to talk about it. “I’ll keep it to myself.”

Those seemed to be the magic words, because Kurt said, “We’re not in trouble. Not exactly. But we might be sold soon, and the potential new owners tend to make heavy changes once they’ve taken over.” Kurt sighed. “A lot of us won’t have jobs at the end of it, or we’ll be kept just long enough for them to hire replacements. I need everything to run smooth, Jace. And that includes Melanie and her column. You see where I’m going with this?”

“Yeah.” Kurt was worried about his job and how Melanie’s column might reflect on him. The guy had a family, had been with the
Gazette
for going on fifteen years. Jace understood, all right. Blowing out a breath, he said, “I’ll do my part.”

“Make sure Melanie does hers.”

“Sure. Well, I’ll try.” They talked for another few minutes before Jace said, “Hope you’re feeling better soon, Kurt.”

After hanging up, Jace sat motionless and stared straight ahead, absorbing the news that the
Gazette
might be sold. He wasn’t stupid. With this hanging over Kurt’s head, there was no way he’d approve of Jace ending the column. Jace could leave the
Gazette,
accept one of those other offers that came in a few times per year, but the idea didn’t appeal.

For one, he’d far prefer to continue living in Portland. For two, every one of those offers came with the expectation that Jace would bring “Bachelor on the Loose” with him if he accepted. And that was out of the question.

When he’d originally started the column, he had been what he wrote: a bachelor living a semi-wild life and sharing his dating adventures with the residents of Portland. The column had taken off almost immediately, something that had both surprised and empowered Jace. He’d be a liar if he stated he hadn’t relished the attention or the notoriety he’d received.

Hell. What young guy, only a few years out of college, wouldn’t love the attention of beautiful, single, sexy women? Of having however many dates he wanted and then having the opportunity to write about those dates to an ever-increasing audience?

In the beginning, he’d worked hard to instill the column with humor about the dating game: the chase and conquer, the thrill of never knowing when an evening began exactly where—or how—it would end. And the women were…fascinating and complex. Able to beguile a man one second and crush the same man’s ego in the next, if they so chose.

Women were powerful. True, some were more attuned to their innate power than others, and there were the few here and there who—like superheroes gone bad—chose to misuse their power. He’d always found women enthralling. Captivating. And he’d loved writing about them. But he hadn’t lied to Melanie. He’d never identified a woman by name. Instead, he came up with a method to—for lack of a better term—
brand
the women he dated by type.

He used ice cream flavors.

Strawberry, for example, was his classification for a fun-loving and easygoing woman, while vanilla was the perfect description for the girl-next-door type. If he wrote that he’d spent his evening with a luscious lemon, that meant the woman fell on the flirty side of the equation. Chocolate meant exotic, perhaps even a little—or a lot—spicy. And he saved rocky road for females who, for whatever reason, were just plain difficult to get along with.

His mother hated the ice cream thing. She said it was demeaning, and maybe, Jace admitted, she was right, though he’d never intended that to be the case. In truth, many of the women asked right off what ice cream flavor he saw them as. Most of them were fine with whatever he said, though he learned fast not to tell a rocky road to her face that she was, in his opinion, a rocky road. That spelled disaster with a capital
D
.

And in one case, a full glass of wine dumped over his head and a stinging slap across his cheek.

Somewhere along the line, though, Jace changed from the bachelor who loved to be one to the guy who yearned for more. He wanted stability. He wanted to settle down. With one woman on his arm, in his bed, in his life. The nonstop dates with a variety of women began feeling like a chore instead of an adventure. Actually writing the column became a burden.

He went to Kurt then and asked to drop the column, but the boss had refused. Oh, he’d given Jace a song and dance about building the popularity of his “Man About Town” column first and told him to start branching out into other areas. That they’d revisit the idea in a few months.

So Jace had played along and continued to date a different woman, sometimes two or three women, every week. That nonsense had stopped over a year ago. And the last time he’d talked to Kurt about ending “Bachelor on the Loose,” Kurt hadn’t bothered with the song and dance. He’d flat-out refused.

Since then, every last word in the column was fiction. Which was fine. Or had been, until Melanie stumbled into his life. Now he hated the reputation the column had given him. Obviously, much of her false opinion of him was based on that reputation, on his supposed dating escapades, on the fact that he used ice-cream flavors to describe women’s personalities. She saw him as a cad. A player.

And he had no one to blame but himself.

Jace sighed and grabbed his now-lukewarm beer, gulping down a large swallow. Melanie’s opinion likely wasn’t going to change as long as she thought he was jumping from one woman to the next with barely a breath in between. He could come clean with her, but he doubted she’d believe him. Hell, if he stood in her shoes, he wouldn’t believe it, either. And if she thought he was lying, wouldn’t that just deepen her distrust of him?

Besides which, telling her the truth about the column felt like cheating. Maybe it was the trademark Foster stubbornness at play, or maybe he was too prideful, but he wanted her to learn who he was naturally, as they spent time together, and hopefully form an opinion that had zilch to do with that damn column.

Basically, he wanted her to forget every last thing she thought she knew about him and trust in what he showed her. But for that to be successful, she’d have to be willing to open her eyes and really look at him. And what were the chances of that happening?

Jace grabbed the remote and turned on the game. Maybe he’d tell her the truth. Maybe he’d wait and see. Or maybe he’d give up on the idea of Melanie Prentiss and find a woman who didn’t need so much convincing.

It wouldn’t be hard. He could think of several women who’d drop whatever they were doing to spend the evening with him. All he’d have to do was pick up the phone. That wasn’t the issue, though. The real problem was that the only woman he wanted to call was Melanie.

Melanie and Tara stared at the computer screen, scanning through the entries the people-finding website had emailed after receiving their fifty-dollar fee. Outright robbery in Melanie’s mind, as the information delivered didn’t even take up a full page.

“Are you sure this David Prentiss is your father?” Tara asked. “I mean, the age looks right, but your dad doesn’t exactly have an uncommon name.”

“You’d think the name was common, wouldn’t you? But there aren’t any David Prentisses in the telephone book. Besides, this is him. Unless there is another guy with the same name and the same birthday.” Melanie pointed at the date. “April fifteenth, tax day.”

“I didn’t even see that. You’re right, this must be him.”

“Uh-huh, but I was hoping for more.” A neon sign with a glowing arrow leading directly to her father would’ve been convenient. Melanie sighed and tried to make sense of the little data in front of her. He’d declared bankruptcy a few years back, but she didn’t see how that knowledge was going to be of any help. There were three residences listed, homes he’d supposedly owned over the years, but none of them were tagged as being his current residence. The two most recent had three other names listed as being a part of the household, all three of which carried the Prentiss name. “I’m guessing he remarried and had more kids.”

“Looks that way,” Tara said softly. “I’m sorry, Melanie. That’s rough.”

Melanie scowled and pushed away from her desk. “Well, if he’s all happy with a new family, why is he bringing me presents?” Bitter disappointment edged her words. Somehow, she’d assumed that her dad had remained unattached. After all, if one family wasn’t good enough for him, why would she think he’d take on another? “He obviously isn’t lonely.”

“Just because he has a family doesn’t mean he can’t be lonely. Or want to fix things with you. The two are not necessarily connected, and people change.” Tara scrunched her nose in thought. “But honestly, Melanie, you have no idea if it is your father bringing you gifts. It could be anyone. It could be a secret admirer, like we originally thought. Or, um, I don’t know, maybe it’s your mother trying to make you think it’s a secret admirer. I can see Loretta doing something like that. She thinks
you’re
lonely.”

“Mom doesn’t do anything halfway. If she was behind this, the gifts would be more romantic in nature.” Reaching over, Melanie made sure there was paper in her printer before sending the document to print. “I’ll look at this more later, maybe see if I can track down some of his old neighbors, but right now I’m hungry. Feel like ordering a pizza?”

“Sure,” Tara said agreeably, following Melanie out of the bedroom and down the stairs. “Why are you so certain you don’t have some sweet, shy guy enamored with you?”

Melanie snorted. “Because if I did, he’d have to have an inside track to my childhood. It isn’t like I go around spouting off what my favorite books are from when I was a kid, or that I own a couple of antique dolls.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Tara plopped her tall, thin frame on the couch the second they entered the living room. “All he’d need was ten minutes with Loretta to get that type of info. She chats about you nonstop at the salon. Last time I was there, I overheard her reminiscing about how you won the local spelling bee three years running.”

Kneeling, Melanie dug out the pile of coupons she kept stashed under the end table. “Good grief, I was in grade school then.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“Okay, but she probably got on that topic because her customer brought up spelling bees first. Mom likely asked how the family was, and the client mentioned her son or daughter was going to be in a spelling bee, or had just been in one.” Gathering the coupons, Melanie moved to the chair across from Tara. “You know how that goes.”