In this beloved novel, #1 New York Times bestselling author Sherryl Woods proves once again that sometimes family does know best.

Straitlaced tycoon Richard Carlton suspects that his Aunt Destiny has more than business matters on her mind when she insists he meet klutzy PR executive Melanie Hart. Melanie might be brilliant—and beautiful—but Richard won’t open his wounded heart to any woman, no matter how much she might make his pulse race.

Yet when the press mistakenly reports that they’re a couple, Richard convinces Melanie to pretend that they’re engaged—to bolster his reputation and to teach his matchmaking aunt a lesson, once and for all. But is this relationship just a charade, or do opposites really attract—for keeps?

Praise for the novels of Sherryl Woods

“Woods’ amazing grasp of human nature and the emotions that lie deep within us make this story universal.”

—RT Book Reviews on Driftwood Cottage

“Woods’ emotionally intense story of loss and love will appeal to a broad range of readers.”

—Booklist on Willow Brook Road

“Once again, Woods proves her expertise in matters of the heart as she gives us characters that we genuinely relate to and care about. A truly delightful read!”

—RT Book Reviews on Moonlight Cove

“Woods employs her signature elements—the southern small-town atmosphere, the supportive network of friends and family, and the heartwarming romance—to great effect.”

—Booklist on A Slice of Heaven

“Woods…is noted for appealing character-driven stories that are often infused with the flavor and fragrance of the South.”

—Library Journal

“Woods delivers a charming novel…[a] unique blend of sparkling humor and family drama.”

—RT Book Reviews on Midnight Promises

Isn’t It Rich?

Sherryl Woods

www.mirabooks.co.uk

Dear friend,

The Perfect Destinies series was originally issued as three Silhouette Special Editions (Million-Dollar Destinies), with a longer follow-up book written for MIRA. I’m so pleased to have all of them available in these new editions from MIRA.

As many of you know, I’ve always loved writing about families. And in this case, three sexy, very different brothers were raised by their madcap Aunt Destiny after the tragic death of their parents. Think Auntie Mame for those of you old enough to remember that wonderful movie. Or meddling Mick O’Brien, if you’re a fan of my Chesapeake Shores series.

I hope you’ll enjoy revisiting the Carltons, if you’ve read these books before. And if you’re new to the series, I hope you’ll welcome the family into your heart as you have so many of my other families.

All best,

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Richard Carlton—A workaholic and born leader, he insists—and thrives—on a predictable, well-ordered life. As the oldest of three orphaned brothers and head of Carlton Industries, he takes responsibility for the company and his family seriously. Maybe a little too seriously.

Melanie Hart—She’s already accomplished a lot in the tough world of marketing because she’s a genius at seeing the big picture and planning a strategy for success. But details tend to elude her—as has romance. She’s exactly the kind of woman to drive a man like Richard crazy, which is precisely why she’s been handpicked to bring love into his life.

Destiny Carlton—Years ago, Richard’s aunt sacrificed her madcap lifestyle in the south of France to come home and care for her orphaned nephews. As terrifying as she found the prospect, she’s actually succeeded in getting them all to adulthood with a minimum of disasters. But until they’re happily married, she won’t consider her duty done—and her first matchmaking project is to get Richard to the altar.

One goal-oriented man,

one slightly offbeat woman, and Destiny’s touch…

It’s the perfect recipe for love!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

Dear friend

CAST OF CHARACTERS

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

Extract

Copyright

1

Richard Carlton made three business calls on his cell phone, scowled impatiently at the antique clock on the wall of his favorite Old Town Alexandria seafood restaurant, made two more calls, then frowned at the Rolex watch on his wrist.

Five more minutes and he was history. He was only here as a favor to his Aunt Destiny. He’d promised to give some supposedly brilliant marketing whiz kid a chance at the consultant’s contract for the family corporation’s public relations campaign despite her lack of experience working with a major worldwide conglomerate.

He was also looking for a consultant who could help him launch his first political campaign. His intention had been to hire someone more seasoned than this woman Destiny was recommending, but his aunt was very persuasive when she put her mind to something.

“Just meet with her. Have a nice lunch. Give her a chance to sell you on her talent. After all,” Aunt Destiny had said with a suspicious gleam in her eye, “nobody on earth is a tougher sell than you, right?”

Richard had given his aunt a wry look. “You flatter me.”

She’d patted his cheek as if he were twelve again and she was trying to call attention gently to one of his flaws. “Not really, darling.”

Destiny Carlton was the bane of his existence. He doubted if there was another aunt like her in the universe. When he was barely twelve, she’d breezed into his life twenty-four hours after his parents’ small plane had crashed in the fog-shrouded Blue Ridge Mountains.

His father’s older sister, Destiny had lived a nomad’s life, cavorting with princes in European capitals, gambling in Monaco, skiing in Swiss Alpine resorts, then settling into a farmhouse in Provence where she’d begun painting more seriously, eventually selling her works in a small gallery on Paris’s Left Bank. She was exotic and eccentric and more fun than anyone Richard or his younger brothers had ever met. She’d been just what three terrified little boys had needed.

A selfish woman would have scooped them up and taken them back to France, then resumed her own life, but not Destiny. She had plunged into unexpected motherhood with the same passionate enthusiasm and style with which she embraced life. She’d turned their previously well-ordered lives into a chaos of adventures in the process, but there had never been a doubt in their minds that she loved them. They, in turn, adored her, even when she was at her most maddening, as she had been lately, ever since she’d gotten some bee in her bonnet about the three of them needing to settle down. To her despair, he, Mack and Ben had been incredibly resistant to her urgings.

Over the years, despite Destiny’s strong influence, Richard had clung tenaciously to the more somber lessons of his father. Work hard and succeed. Give back to the community. Be somebody. The adages had been drilled into him practically from infancy. Even at twelve, he’d felt the weight of responsibility for the generations-old Carlton Industries sitting squarely on his thin shoulders. Though an outsider had held the temporary reins upon his father’s death, there was no question that the company would eventually be Richard’s to run. A place would have been found for his brothers as well, if either of them had wanted it. But neither had shown the slightest interest, not back then and not now.

Back then, while his brothers had gone home after school to play their games, Richard had taken the family obligation to heart. Every weekday he’d gone to the historic old brick building that housed the corporate offices.

Destiny had tried her best to interest him in reading novels of all kinds, from the classics to science fiction and fantasy, but he’d preferred to scour the company books, studying the neatly aligned columns of figures that told the story of decades of profit and loss. The order and logic of it soothed him in a way he had been helpless to explain to her or to anyone. Even now, he had a better understanding of business than he did of people.

When he was twenty-three and had his M.B.A. from the prestigious Wharton School of Business, Richard slipped into the company presidency without raising so much as an eyebrow among the employees or among the worldwide CEOs with whom Carlton Industries did business. Most assumed he’d been all but running it behind the scenes since his father’s death, anyway. Even as a kid, he’d displayed amazing confidence in his own decision-making.

Now, at thirty-two, he had the company on the track his father would have expected, expanding bit by bit with a strategic merger here, a hostile acquisition there. He was still young, successful and one of the city’s most eligible bachelors. Unfortunately, his relationships tended to be brief once the women in his life realized they were always likely to take a back seat to the pressing—and often far more interesting—needs of the family company. The last woman he’d dated had told him he was a cold, dispassionate son of a bitch. He hadn’t argued. In fact, he was pretty sure she had it just about right. Business never let him down. People did. He stuck to what he could trust.

Since he’d been so unsuccessful at romance, he’d turned his attention elsewhere in recent months. He’d been considering a run for office, perhaps the Alexandria City Council for starters. His father had expected all of his sons to climb to positions of power, not just in the corporate world, but in their community and the nation. Helping to shape Richard’s image and get his name into print as a precursor to this was just part of what his new marketing consultant would be handling.

His timetable—okay, his father’s oft-expressed timetable—for this was right on track, too. His father had espoused the need for short-term and long-term strategic planning. Richard had doubled the number of years his father had planned ahead for. He liked knowing where he should be—where he would be—ten, twenty, even thirty years down the road.

For someone whose precise schedule was so detailed, wasting precious minutes out of his jam-packed day waiting for a woman who was now twenty minutes late pretty much drove him crazy. Out of time and out of patience, Richard snapped his fingers. The maître d’ appeared instantly.

“Yes, Mr. Carlton?”

“Could you put my coffee on my account, please, Donald? My guest hasn’t arrived, and I have another appointment to get to back at my office.”

“No charge for the coffee, sir. Would you like the chef to box up a salad?”

“No, thanks.”

“Shall I get your coat, then?”

“Didn’t wear one.”

“Then at least let me call a taxi for you. It’s started to snow quite heavily. The sidewalks and streets are treacherous. Perhaps that’s why your guest is late.”

Richard wasn’t interested in finding excuses for the no-show, just in getting back to work. “If the weather’s that bad, I can walk back sooner than you can get a taxi here. Thanks, anyway, Donald. And if Ms. Hart ever shows up, please tell her...” His voice trailed off. He decided the message he’d like to have relayed was better left unsaid. It was bound to come back to haunt him with his aunt, who was one of Donald’s favorite customers. Though he considered his duty to Destiny’s young friend done, his aunt might not see it the same way. “Just tell her I had to go.”

“Yes, sir.”

He opened the front door of the restaurant, stepped outside onto the slick sidewalk and ran straight into a battering ram. If he hadn’t had a firm grip on the door, he’d have been on the ground. Instead, the woman who’d hit him headfirst in the midsection, stared up at him with huge, panicked brown eyes fringed with long, dark lashes just as her feet skidded out from under her.

Richard caught her inches from the icy ground and steadied her. Even though she was bundled up for the weather, she felt delicate. A faint frisson of something that felt like protectiveness hit him. It was something he’d previously experienced only with his younger brothers and his aunt. Most of the women in his life were so strong and capable, he’d never felt the least bit inclined to protect them from anything.

The woman closed her eyes, then opened them again and winced as she surveyed his face. “Please don’t tell me you’re Richard Carlton,” she said, then sighed before he could respond. “But of course you are. You look exactly like the picture your aunt showed me.

“That’s the way my day has gone,” she rattled on. “First I get a cab driver who couldn’t find his way to the corner without a map, then we get stuck behind a trash truck and then the snow starts coming down worse than a blizzard in the Rockies.” She gazed at him hopefully, brushing at a stray strand of hair that was teasing at her still pink cheek. “I don’t suppose you’d like to go back in, sit down and let me make a more dignified entrance?”

Richard bit back a sigh of his own. “Melanie Hart, I presume.”

She gazed at him, her expression thoughtful. “I could pretend to be somebody else, and we could forget all about this unfortunate incident. I could call your office later, apologize profusely for missing you, make another appointment and start over in a very businesslike way.”

“You’re actually considering lying to me?”

“It would be a waste of time, wouldn’t it?” she said with apparent regret. “I’ve already given myself away. I knew this whole lunch thing was a mistake. I make a much better impression in a conference room. I think it’s the setting. People tend to take you more seriously if you can use an overhead projector and all sorts of charts and graphs. Anyway, I told Destiny that, but she insisted lunch would be better. She says you’re less cranky on a full stomach.”

“How lovely of her to share that,” Richard said, vowing to have yet another wasted talk with his aunt about discussing him with anyone and everyone. If he did decide to run for office, her loose tongue would doom his chances before he got started.

“I don’t suppose your stomach’s full now?” Melanie Hart asked hopefully.

“No.”

“Then you’re bound to be cranky, so I’ll just slip on inside and try to figure out how I managed to mess up the most important job interview of my entire life.”

“If you decide you want an outside opinion, give me a call,” Richard said.

He considered brushing right on past this walking disaster, but she looked so genuinely forlorn he couldn’t seem to bring himself to do it. Besides, Destiny had said she was very good at what she did, and Destiny was seldom wrong about personnel matters. She was a good judge of people, at least when she didn’t let emotion cloud her judgment. Richard very much feared this was one of those instances when her heart might have overruled her head. Still...

He tucked a hand under Melanie Hart’s elbow and steered her inside. “Thirty minutes,” he said tersely as Donald beamed at them and led them back to the table Richard had vacated just moments earlier. It had a fresh tablecloth, fresh place settings and a lit candle. He was almost certain that candle hadn’t been there before. He had a suspicious feeling Donald had been expecting him back all along and had hoped a little atmosphere would improve his sour mood. No doubt the maître d’ and his aunt were in cahoots. He’d probably called Destiny with a report five seconds after Richard had walked out.

When Donald had brought a fresh pot of coffee, Richard glanced at his watch. “Twenty-four minutes, Ms. Hart. Make ’em count.”

Melanie reached for her attaché case and promptly knocked over her water glass...straight into his lap.

Richard leaped up as the icy water soaked through his pants. The day was just getting better and better.

“Oh, my God, I am so sorry,” Melanie said, on her feet, napkin in hand, poised to sop up the water.

Richard considered letting her do it, just to see how she reacted once she realized exactly where she was touching him, but apparently she caught on to the problem. She handed the napkin to him.

“Sorry,” she said again while he spent several minutes trying to dry himself off. “I swear to you that I am not normally such a klutz.” At his doubtful look, she added, “Really, I’m not.”

“If you say so.”

“If you want to leave, I will totally understand. If you tell me never to darken your door, I’ll understand that, too.” Her chin came up and she looked straight into his eyes. “But you’ll be making a terrible mistake.”

She was a bold one, no question about that. Richard paused in his futile attempt to dry his trousers. “How so?”

“I’m exactly what you need, Mr. Carlton. I know how to get attention.”

“Yes, I can see that,” he said wryly. “There’s unforgettable and then there’s disastrous. I’m hoping for something a little more positive.”

“I can do that,” she insisted. “I have the contacts. I’m clever and innovative. I know exactly how to sell my clients to the media. In fact, I have a preliminary plan right here for your campaign and for Carlton Industries.”

When she started to reach for her attaché case again, Richard grabbed the remaining water glass on the table and moved it a safe distance away, then sat back down while she scattered a flurry of papers in every direction. When she was finally done, he said, “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Ms. Hart, I really do, but this isn’t going to work.” To avoid hurting her feelings, he tried to temper his dismissal. “I need someone a little more seasoned.”

He refrained from adding that he wanted someone less ditzy, someone a little less inclined to remind him with every breath that she was a female and that he was a male who hadn’t had sex for several months now. He did not need an employee who stirred up all these contradictory reactions in him. In this day and age that was a lawsuit waiting to happen.

His response to Melanie Hart bemused him. He’d gone from annoyance to anger to attraction in the space of—he glanced at his watch—less than twenty-five minutes. Relieved that her allotted time was nearly over, he tapped his Rolex. “Time’s about up, Ms. Hart. Nice to meet you. I wish you luck and best success.”

She gave him that forlorn, doe-eyed look that made his stomach clench and his pulse gallop erratically.

“You’re kissing me off, aren’t you?” she said.

It was an unfortunate turn of phrase. Richard suddenly couldn’t stop looking at her mouth, which was soft and full and very, very kissable. He obviously needed to find the time to start dating again, if he was going to react this way to a woman as wildly inappropriate as Melanie Hart.

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” he said finally. “I’m just saying it’s a bad match. If you’re as talented as my aunt says, you’ll be snapped up by another company in no time at all.”

“I already have other clients, Mr. Carlton. In fact, my business is thriving,” she said stiffly. “I wanted to work for you and for Carlton Industries because I think I have something to offer you that your in-house staff cannot.”

“Which is?”

“A fresh perspective that would drag your corporate and personal image out of the Dark Ages.” She stood up. “Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps your current stuffy image has it exactly right.”

As Richard stared, she whirled around and marched out of the restaurant with her head held high, her back straight and the tiniest, most provocative sway of her narrow hips he’d seen in a long time.

Damn, what was happening to him? The infernal woman had just mowed him down, soaked him with water and told him off, and he still couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Of course, the real problem was that she wanted to work for him...and for some totally insane and inexplicable reason, he wanted her in his bed.

* * *

“And then I soaked him with water,” Melanie related to Destiny Carlton a few hours later over drinks at what had once been the Carlton family home. Now Destiny apparently lived there alone. “I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t catch pneumonia and sue me. I think I can pretty much count on getting a polite rejection letter in tomorrow’s mail just to take away any lingering doubts I might have that he absolutely, positively hated me. Heck, he’ll probably send it over by courier tonight to make sure I don’t come waltzing into his office tomorrow and burn the building down.”

Destiny laughed, oddly delighted by this report. “Oh, darling, it couldn’t have gone better. Richard is much too pompous. He takes himself too seriously. You’re just the breath of fresh air he needs.”

“I really don’t think he saw the humor in the situation,” Melanie said with genuine regret.

She’d liked Richard. Okay, he was a little bit rigid and standoffish, but she could improve on that. She could coach him on smiling more frequently. She’d had one glimpse of his killer smile and it had made her knees weak. If he smiled more and frowned less, he could win over every female voter in Alexandria, no matter where he stood on the issues. She really thought she could do great things for Carlton Industries and for its CEO. It was a challenge she’d been looking forward to. Now she’d never have the chance. And while her company wasn’t exactly thriving, the way she’d told him it was, a coup like this would have assured its future.

“I’ll talk to him. I’m sure I can smooth things over,” Destiny said.

“Please, no,” Melanie insisted. “You’ve done enough. You got me the interview in the first place. I’m the one who blew it. Maybe I can think of some way to salvage things.”

“I’m sure you can,” Destiny said with an encouraging smile. “You’re very clever at such things. I knew that the moment we met.”

“We met when I dented your rear fender,” Melanie reminded her.

“But it only took a few minutes for you to convince me it was time for a new car, anyway. You had me on the dealer’s lot and behind the wheel of my snappy little red convertible within the hour, and I’m no pushover,” Destiny asserted.

Melanie laughed. “Who are you kidding? You were dying to buy a new car. I just gave you a reason and steered you to a client I knew would give you a great deal.”

“But don’t you see? That’s exactly what marketing is all about—convincing people to go ahead and get something they’ve wanted but haven’t thought they needed. Now you merely have to convince my nephew that he—or, rather, Carlton Industries—can’t live without you.”

An alarm suddenly went off in Melanie’s head at Destiny’s slip of the tongue. She studied the older woman warily, but there was nothing in her friend’s eyes to suggest duplicity. Still, she had to ask. “Destiny, you’re not matchmaking, are you?”

“Me? Matchmaking for Richard? Heavens no. I wouldn’t waste the energy. He would never take my advice when it comes to matters of the heart.”

She made the protest sound very convincing, but Melanie didn’t quite buy it. Destiny Carlton was a kind, smart, fascinating woman, but she clearly had a sneaky streak. She also adored her nephews. Melanie had picked up on that the first time they’d met. Destiny had gone on and on about their attributes and how she despaired of ever seeing them settle down. Who knew what she might do to get them married off?

“I’m not in the market for a husband,” Melanie told her firmly. “You know that, don’t you?”

“But you are in the market for a challenging job, right? That hasn’t changed?”

“No, that hasn’t changed.”

“Well, then,” Destiny said cheerily. “Let’s put our heads together and come up with a plan. Nobody knows Richard’s weak spots better than I do.”

“He has weaknesses?” Melanie asked skeptically. He’d struck her as tough, competent and more than a little arrogant. If there was a chink in his armor, she hadn’t spotted it, and she was well trained to spot flaws that the media might exploit and see that they were corrected or hidden from view.

Destiny beamed at her. “He’s a man, isn’t he? All men can be won over if the tactics are right. Have I told you about the duke?”

“The one who chased you all over Europe?”

“No, dear, that was a prince. This man—the duke—was the love of my life,” she confided, her expression nostalgic. Then she shook her head. “Well, that’s in the past. Best not to go there. Let’s concentrate on Richard. There’s a little cottage on the river about eighty miles from here. It’s very peaceful. I think I can get him down there this weekend.”

Melanie eyed her friend warily. She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of this. The last time she’d trusted Destiny’s instincts over her own, look what had happened.

“And?” she asked cautiously.

“Then you show up with some of his favorite gourmet food—I’ll help you plan the menu—and your marketing plan. He won’t be able to resist.”

There were so many things wrong with that scheme, Melanie didn’t know where to begin. If doing a presentation in a restaurant was awkward and unprofessional, then chasing the man to some out-of-the-way cottage was downright ludicrous and rife with the potential for disaster.

“If he goes there to relax, won’t he be furious if I intrude?” she asked, trying to curb Destiny’s enthusiasm for the idea.

Destiny waved off her concern. “He doesn’t go there to relax. He goes there to get more work done. He says it’s less noisy than his place here.”

“Then I’ll still be an unwelcome interruption,” Melanie protested.

“Not if we get the menu exactly right,” Destiny said. “The way to a man’s heart, et cetera. I have a few bottles of his favorite wine right here. You can take those along, too.”

Melanie wasn’t convinced. “It seems a little risky. No, it seems a lot risky. I am not one of his favorite people right now.”

Her comment fell on deaf ears. “Anything worth having is worth a little risk,” Destiny said blithely. “What can he do? Slam the door in your face? I’ve raised him better than that.”

That didn’t sound so awful. Melanie weighed the prospect of facing Richard’s annoyance once again against the possibility of getting a dream contract for her new company. Landing Carlton Industries would be a coup. Helping to shape Richard Carlton’s first run for political office would be an even bigger one, especially if he won. In this politics-happy region where candidates from every state in the country abounded, she’d soon be able to name her own price.

Making her decision, she gave Destiny a weak smile. “Okay, then. What am I serving?”

2

Three large hampers of food arrived at Melanie’s small home in Alexandria’s Delray neighborhood not far from historic Old Town at two o’clock on Friday, along with a heavy vellum envelope addressed in Destiny’s elaborate script. Melanie regarded it all with grim resignation. This was really going to happen. She was really going to invade Richard Carlton’s privacy and try to convince him that he needed her—professionally, at any rate.

As soon as the uniformed chauffeur bowed and left, Melanie’s assistant and best friend slipped out of the office that had been created from what was meant to be the master bedroom in the 1940s-era house, peeked into the wicker baskets crowding the foyer, then turned to her.

“Wow, Mel, is someone trying to seduce you?” Becky asked, clearly intrigued by the excess.

“Hardly,” Melanie said. “In fact, I’m pretty sure the hope is that I’ll seduce Richard Carlton.”

Becky gave her a hard, disbelieving look. “I thought that meeting went really, really badly.”

“It did. But his aunt seems to think I can salvage it, if I just ply him with food and alcohol in a secluded little cottage by the sea.”

Becky, who had solid business instincts under her romantic facade, didn’t seem impressed by the theory. “And how exactly are you supposed to coax him into going there with you?”

“Destiny is taking care of that.” Melanie slit open the envelope, read the message, glanced at the two sheets of typed instructions included, then sighed.

“What’s that?” Becky asked, eyeing the papers with suspicion.

“My marching orders,” Melanie said wryly. “She even thought to include cooking instructions. She must know about my tendency to burn water.”

Becky chuckled, caught Melanie’s sour look and immediately sobered. “Since you’ve apparently bought into this idiotic scheme, then I think it was very thoughtful of her.”

“I’m sure she was just thinking of her nephew’s health.”

“Tell me again why she’s so determined to help you land this contract,” Becky prompted.

“I wish I could say that I’d impressed the hell out of her with my professional credentials, but that’s not it. She thinks Richard is stuffy and I’m a breath of fresh air,” Melanie explained. At least that had been the reason Destiny had expressed for going to all this trouble.

“In other words, she has an ulterior motive,” Becky concluded, leaping to her own conclusion. “The whole seduction thing.”

“Don’t say that,” Melanie pleaded, not liking that Becky had almost instantly confirmed her own suspicions. “Don’t even think it. This is business, not personal.”

“Yeah, right.”

“It is, at least for me. If I get this contract, I will no longer have to lie awake nights worrying about whether I can pay your salary.”

“Then by all means, get down to this cottage and start cooking,” Becky said, snapping the lids on the hampers closed. “By the way, if that pie doesn’t win him over, then the man’s not human. It smells heavenly. I had a candle once that smelled exactly like that, like warm cherry pie just out of the oven. Every time I lit it, I ate. I gained ten pounds before the darn thing finally burned out.”

Melanie chuckled. From the day they’d met in college, Becky had claimed that everything up to and including high humidity caused her to gain weight. She was constantly bemoaning the ten pounds she supposedly needed to lose. The extra weight hadn’t hurt her social life. She had the kind of lush curves that caused men to fall all over themselves whenever she walked into a room.

“Come on, Mel, have a heart and get this stuff out of here,” she begged now. “I’ll hold down the fort for the rest of the day.”

Melanie knew she couldn’t very well back out now. She’d agreed to this crazy scheme. She had to follow through with it, and she might as well get on the road and get it over with. Reluctantly she gathered up her coat, her purse and her business plan for Carlton Industries.

“You’re going to have to help me haul this food out to the car,” she said. “I think Destiny went a little overboard and packed enough for the weekend, not just dinner.”

“Maybe she has high hopes for just how well dinner is going to go,” Becky suggested, struggling to balance two heavy wicker baskets as she followed Melanie to her car.

“Or maybe she’s counting on a blizzard,” Melanie replied grimly. It would be just her luck to get herself snowed in with a man who’d all but said he never wanted to lay eyes on her again. “Have you seen a weather report?”

“Haven’t needed to,” Becky said, gesturing toward the western sky, which was a dull gray, the usual precursor to snow.

Melanie groaned. “Okay, then, if it does snow and I’m not back on Monday, promise me you’ll come and dig me out. Buy a damn snowplow if you have to.”

“Maybe I’ll just wait to hear you confirm that on Monday,” Becky said with a sly grin. “Could be you won’t want to be rescued.”

“Promise me,” Melanie said, gritting her teeth. “Or I swear I will fire you, even if I get this contract and we’re rolling in money.”

“Fine. Fine,” Becky soothed, still fighting a grin. “I’ll come rescue you if you’re not back by Monday.” The smile broke free. “Or at least I’ll tell the cops where to start looking for the body.”

Melanie winced. “Don’t joke about that. It could go that badly.”

Becky’s expression sobered at once. “Mel, you’re really worried about this, are you?”

“Not that he’ll kill me, no,” Melanie said honestly. “But it’s entirely likely that he’ll toss me right back out into the snow and I’ll die of humiliation.”

“Nobody dies of humiliation, at least not in the public relations business. We’re the masters of spin. Remember that. It’s what we do best.”

“I’m sure knowing that will warm me right up when I’m sitting in a snowbank freezing my butt off,” Melanie said.

Becky laughed. “Just keep your cell phone handy so you can call nine-one-one. I hear the paramedics really get off on trying to save people from frostbite in that particular region.”

So much for sympathy and support from the woman who was not only her assistant but her closest friend. Melanie started her car and skidded down her icy driveway till she hit the cleared pavement of the road. She did not look back, because she was pretty certain that traitorous Becky was probably laughing her head off.

* * *

Richard wasn’t at all sure how he’d let his aunt convince him to spend the weekend at the cottage, especially since he’d been down here for a couple of hours and there was still no sign of Destiny. Nor had she phoned. He was beginning to worry. Not that a woman who’d traipsed all over the globe on her own couldn’t handle anything that came up, but she was his aunt. Ever since his parents had died, he’d worried obsessively about everyone who was left in his life. He’d barely been able to watch Mack play professional football because a part of him had been terrified that his younger brother would have his neck snapped by some overly aggressive defensive player. As it turned out, it had been a far less deadly knee injury that had ended Mack’s career on the field. Richard had been the only one in the family relieved to have Mack safely ensconced in the team’s administrative office as a part owner these days.

When Richard finally heard footsteps on the front porch, he threw open the door. “It’s about time,” he groused to cover his irrational concern. Then he got a good look at the bundled-up woman outside. “You!”

“Hello again,” Melanie said cheerfully. “Surprise!”

Richard felt his stomach ricochet wildly, and not in a good way. “What was Destiny thinking?” he murmured, half to himself. She was behind this. She had to be.

As for Melanie, she was obviously a lot tougher than he’d realized. The blasted woman didn’t seem to be the least bit put off by his lack of welcome. She beamed and brushed right past him into the small foyer, peering around at the living room with undisguised curiosity.

“I’m fairly sure Destiny’s only thought was that you’d probably be starving by now,” she said, giving a totally unnecessary reply to his rhetorical question. “She asked me to tell you she was sorry about the change in plans. Something came up.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” he muttered. Then the scent of warm cherry pie wafted toward him. “What’s in the basket?”

“Give me a few minutes to unpack it all and I’ll show you. By the way, there are two more baskets in the car. If you’ll get those, I’ll deal with this one.”

“You could just make your delivery and head back to Alexandria,” Richard said, still holding out hope that he could cut this encounter short.

“On an empty stomach? I don’t think so. I’ve spent the last two hours smelling this cherry pie—I’m not leaving till I’ve had some. There are a couple of steaks in one of the baskets and potatoes for baking, butter and sour cream—which is a little excessive, if you ask me—plus a huge Caesar salad. There are also a couple of excellent bottles of French wine. I’m told it’s your favorite, though personally I think the California cabernets are just as good and far less expensive.”

Destiny at her sneakiest, Richard concluded with a sigh. She’d sent all of his favorite foods, despite her alleged concern about his cholesterol. He picked up the basket and closed the door, then stepped aside to permit Melanie to come all the way into the cottage. “Come on in.”

“Said the spider to the fly,” Melanie said, injecting an ominous note into her voice as she brushed right past him and headed with unerring accuracy right toward the kitchen. Destiny had probably given her a complete floor plan. He couldn’t help wondering if his aunt had also provided a key, in case he tried to lock her protégé out.

He gave Melanie a wry look. “Where we’re concerned, I think you’ve got that backward. I’m the intended victim here.”

“Whatever,” she said, clearly unconcerned. She met his gaze, her eyes a dark, liquid brown. “Those other baskets,” she prodded.

“What?” Richard blinked, then grasped her meaning. “Oh, sure. I’ll get ’em now.” He fled the kitchen and the disconcerting woman who seemed to be taking it over. Maybe a blast of frigid air would clear his head and help him to come up with some way to get her out of there.

Unfortunately, by the time he started back inside, nothing short of hauling Melanie bodily back to her car and turning on the engine had come to him. Since that was pretty much out of the question, he was doomed. A big fat snowflake splatted on his forehead as if to confirm his decision. He looked up, and several more snowflakes hit him in the face.

“Great, just great,” he muttered. The minute—no, the second—he spotted Destiny again, he was going to wring her neck.

Inside he plunked the baskets down on the round oak table where he, Destiny and his brothers had shared many a meal and played many a game of Monopoly or gin rummy. He grabbed the slim local phone book from the counter and began almost desperately leafing through the pages. There was an inn nearby. If Melanie left now, right this instant, she could be snuggled up in front of its fire in minutes.

“Who are you calling?” she asked as she unpacked the food.

“The inn.”

“Why?”

“It’s snowing. You’re going to need a place to stay.”

Her determinedly cheerful expression finally faded. “It’s snowing,” she echoed.

“Hard,” he added grimly.

She sighed and sank down at the table. “Do you think it’s possible that your aunt controls the weather, too?”

She asked it so plaintively that Richard couldn’t help the chuckle that sneaked up the back of his throat. “I’ve wondered that myself at times,” he admitted. “She has a lot of powers, but I’m fairly certain that’s not one of them.”

He gave his guest an encouraging look. “It’ll be okay. The inn is lovely. It’s not a bad place to be stranded.”

As he spoke, he dialed the number. It rang and rang, before an answering machine finally came on and announced that the inn was closed until after the first of the year. He heard the message with a sinking heart. There was a small motel nearby, but it was no place he’d send his worst enemy, much less Melanie Hart, not if he ever expected to look his aunt in the face again. Of course, he planned to strangle her, so her opinion was likely to be short-lived.

“What?” Melanie asked as he slowly hung up.

“The inn’s closed till after January first.”

She stood up at once and reached for her coat. “Then I’ll leave now. I’m sure I can get back up to town before the roads get too bad.”

“And have me worrying for hours about whether you’ve skidded into a ditch? I don’t think so,” he said, reaching the only decision he could live with. “You’ll stay here. There are lots of rooms.”

“I don’t want to be an inconvenience,” she told him. “There are bound to be some other places I can get a room, if the roads get too bad once I start back.”

“No,” he said flatly, carefully avoiding her gaze so she wouldn’t see just how disturbed he was by the prospect of being stranded here with her for an hour, much less a day or two.

“I feel awful about this,” she said with what sounded like genuine regret. “I knew it was a bad idea, but you know how your aunt is. She gets something into her head, and everyone else just gets swept along.”

“Tell me about it.”

“As soon as we eat, I’ll go to my room and you won’t have to spend another second worrying about me,” she assured him. “I’ll be quiet as a mouse. You won’t even know I’m here.”

“Wouldn’t that pretty much defeat the purpose of this visit?” he asked.

“Purpose?”

“To talk me into reconsidering hiring you,” he said. “We both know Destiny didn’t send you down here just to deliver dinner. Her driver could have done that.”

“Caught,” Melanie conceded, looking only marginally chagrined.

“Well, then, now’s your chance. Start talking,” he told her as he opened a bottle of wine to let it breathe.

“Not till we’ve eaten,” she insisted. “I want every advantage I can get.” She looked over the ingredients for their dinner, now spread out on the table. “Of course, if you want dinner to be edible, you might want to pitch in.”

“You can’t cook?”

“Let’s just say that a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and microwaved oatmeal are my specialties.”

Richard shook his head. “Move over,” he said, nudging her aside with his hip, then almost immediately regretting the slight contact with her soft curves.

“And stay out of my way,” he added for good measure.

She didn’t seem to take offense. In fact, she looked downright relieved. “Can I set the table? Pour the wine?”

“Sure,” he agreed. “The dishes and wineglasses are in the cabinet right up there.”

He glanced over as she reached for them and found himself staring at an inch of pale skin as her sweater rode up from the waistband of her slacks. She had a very trim waist. He wanted very badly to skim a finger across that tiny bit of exposed flesh to see if it was as soft and satiny as it looked. He wasn’t used to being turned on by so little. She had to be some kind of wizard to make him want her without half-trying. Only because he didn’t want to let on how hot and bothered he was did he resist the desire to snag the bottom of her sweater and tug it securely back into place. He could just imagine her reaction to that. She’d know right then and there that she had the upper hand. Who knew how she’d use that little piece of information.

“Have you had this place a long time?” she asked when she finally had all the dishes in her arms. As she turned and set the precariously balanced load on the table, her sweater slid back into place, thank God.

“Since we were kids,” he told her as he scrubbed the potatoes. “Destiny missed the water and the country when she came back from living in France, so we piled into the car one weekend and went exploring. She spotted this house and fell in love with it.”

“I can understand why. The view of the Potomac is incredible. It must be wonderful to sit on the front porch in the summer and watch the boats on the water and listen to the waves.”

“I suppose it is,” he said, distracted by the dreamy note in her voice.

Melanie gave him a knowing look. “How long has it been since you’ve done that?”

“Years,” he admitted. “Usually when I come down here, I bring a pile of paperwork and never set foot outside. I come because it’s peaceful and quiet and I know no one will interrupt me.” He regarded her with a wry expression. “Not usually, anyway.”

Melanie nodded as if she’d expected the response. “I’d read that you were a workaholic.”

“Just proves the media gets it right once in a while.”

“Haven’t you ever heard that all work and no play makes one dull?”

He shrugged. “I never really cared.”

She studied him curiously. “What kind of image do you see yourself projecting as a candidate?”

Richard paused as he was about to put the potatoes into the oven. He hadn’t yet given the matter much thought. He should have. Instead, he’d based his decision to run for office on the expected progression of his life carefully planned out by his father, probably while Richard was still in diapers.

“I want people to know I’m honest,” he began, considering his reply thoughtfully. “I want them to believe that I’ll work hard and that I’ll care about their problems, about the issues that matter to them.”

“That’s good,” she said. “But did you go to public school?”

“No.”

“Have you ever had to struggle for money, been out of work?”

“No.”

“Ever been denied a place to live because of the color of your skin?”

He flushed slightly. “No.”

“Do you have good medical insurance?”

“Of course. So do my employees.”

“Ever had to go without a prescription because you couldn’t afford it?”

“No.” He saw where she was going, and it grated on his nerves.

“Then what makes you think they’ll believe you can relate to their problems?” she asked.

“Look, I can’t help that I’ve led a life of privilege, but I can care about people who haven’t. I can be innovative about ways to solve their problems. I know a lot about business. Some of those principles can be applied to government as well,” he said, barely able to disguise his irritation. “Look, I don’t get this. If you think I’m such a lousy candidate, why do you want to work for me?”

She grinned. “So I can show you how to be a good candidate, maybe even a great one.”

He shook his head at her audacity. “Confident, aren’t you?”

“No more so than you are. You believe in yourself. I believe in myself. That could be the beginning of a great team.”

“Or a disaster waiting to happen,” he said, not convinced. “Two egos butting heads at every turn.”

“Maybe, but if we remember that we both have the same goal, I’m pretty sure that will get us through any rough patches.”

Richard considered her theory as he heated the fancy grill that was part of the restaurant-caliber stove he’d had installed once he’d taken up gourmet cooking to relax. He tossed on the steaks. “How do you want it?” he asked.

Melanie stared at him, looking puzzled. “Want what?”

He grinned. “Your steak.”

“Well-done,” she said at once.

“I should have guessed.”

“I suppose you eat yours raw,” she muttered.

“Rare,” he corrected.

“Same thing. It’s all very macho.”

“I suppose you think I should give up beef or something to appease the vegetarian voters.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. There must be a zillion very popular steak houses in the Washington area. There’s your constituency.”

“I like to think I can relate to people who prefer lobster, too.”

She laughed and shook her head. “My work is so cut out for me.”

“You don’t have the job,” he reminded her.

She stepped up beside him and snagged a slice of red pepper from the pan of vegetables he was sautéing. Then she grinned. “I will,” she said with total confidence.

Richard got that same odd sensation in the pit of his stomach, the one he used to get right before a roller coaster crested the top of the tracks and pitched down in a mad burst of speed. He looked at Melanie as she licked a trace of olive oil from the tip of her finger and felt that same mix of excitement and fear. He hadn’t been in waters this deep and dangerous in years. Maybe never.

Damn Destiny. She’d known exactly what she was doing by pushing this woman into his life, and it didn’t have a bloody thing to do with getting him elected to office or polishing the image of Carlton Industries around the globe. Melanie was to be the key player in Destiny’s latest skirmish to marry him off.

Well, he didn’t have to take the bait. He could keep his hormones under control and his hands to himself. No problem. At least, as long as Melanie stopped looking at him with those big, vulnerable brown eyes. Those eyes made him want to give her whatever she wanted, made him want to take whatever he wanted.

Yep, those eyes were trouble. Too bad she wasn’t one of those sophisticated women who wore sunglasses night and day as part of their fashion statement. Then he might have a shot at sticking to his resolve.

As it was, he was probably doomed.

3

Though he’d stopped scowling after his second glass of wine, Richard didn’t seem as if he was being won over, Melanie concluded reluctantly. He was being civil, not friendly. And he definitely wasn’t leaving her much of an opening to start pitching her PR plan. Drastic measures were called for. Destiny had seemed certain that food was the answer, so Melanie had added a touch of her own to the meal.

“I stopped and picked up ice cream for the pie,” she told him, hoping she’d guessed right that a man who loved cherry pie would prefer it à la mode.

He actually smiled for the first time—a totally unguarded reaction, for once. Just as Melanie had remembered, the effect was devastating. The smile made his blue eyes sparkle and emphasized that there really were laugh lines at the corners. It also eased the tension in his square jaw.

“Acting against Destiny’s warnings, no doubt,” he said. “She probably has the cardiologist on standby as it is.”

Melanie grinned back at him. “I have his name and number in my purse,” she joked, then added more truthfully, “along with cooking instructions and directions to this place. Destiny left very little to chance.”

He seemed uncertain whether to take her seriously. “Not that I would put it past her, but she didn’t actually give you the name of a doctor, did she?”

Melanie laughed. “Okay, no, but she does seem to be concerned that your particular nutritional habits combined with your workaholic tendencies will land you in an early grave. Do you ever relax?”

“Sure,” he said at once. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Melanie gestured toward the computer that he’d been glancing at longingly ever since her arrival. “Unless you’re on there doing your Christmas shopping, I don’t think this qualifies.”

He regarded her with a vaguely puzzled expression. “When is Christmas?”

“Less than three weeks.”

He nodded, then reached for the pocket computer he’d tossed on the counter earlier, and made a note.

“Reminding your secretary to get your shopping done?” she asked him.

He looked only slightly chagrined at having been caught. “Winifred’s better at it than I am,” he said, not sounding the least bit defensive. “She has more time, too. I give her a few extra hours off to do her shopping, along with mine.”

Melanie nodded. “A successful man always knows how to delegate. Do you give her a budget? Suggestions? Does she tell you what’s in the packages, so you’re not as surprised as the recipients on Christmas morning? I’ve always wondered how that worked.”

He took the question seriously. “Most of the time she puts little sticky labels on the wrapped boxes so I can add my own gift card. She seems to think my handwriting ought to be on there.” His eyes glinted with sudden amusement. “Occasionally, though, she likes to go for the shock value, especially with my brothers. Last year I gave my brother Mack—”

“The former Washington football hero,” Melanie recalled.

“Exactly, and one of the city’s most sought after bachelors.” He grinned. “My secretary bought him a rather large, shapely, inflatable female. I’m pretty sure Destiny had a hand in that one. She’d been trying to convince Mack that he doesn’t have to make it his personal mission to date every woman in the entire Washington metropolitan area. She seemed to think he might be better able to commit to a woman with no expectations.”

“Your family has a very odd sense of humor, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“Did it work?”

“Not so’s I’ve noticed,” he admitted. “Mack is still happily playing the field.”

“I see. And my job would be to see to it that no one else discovers these little family quirks?” Melanie asked, daring to broach the subject that had brought her to this cozy, out-of-the-way cottage. “If I get the job, that is.”

“I thought we’d pretty much settled that question last time we met,” Richard said.

Melanie shook her head. “I didn’t like the outcome. I’m here to change it.”

“Darn. I thought maybe you were here to seduce me,” he said, almost making his expressed disappointment sound sincere.

Melanie gave him a hard look. That was a line of conversation that needed to be cut short in a hurry. She hadn’t liked the seduction angle when she’d guessed it was part of Destiny’s plan. She liked it even less coming from Richard. Okay, maybe she was marginally intrigued, but it was a bad idea any way she looked at it.

“Not in a million years,” she said emphatically.

He seemed startled by her vehemence. “Why is that?”

“Been there, done that.”

His gaze narrowed. “Meaning?”

She opted for total honesty so he’d understand just how opposed she was. “I made the serious mistake of sleeping with my last boss. I thought I was madly in love with him and vice versa. When the affair ended, so did my job. Now I work for myself. I won’t make the same mistake a second time, not with a boss, not with a client.”

“Good rule of thumb,” he agreed. “But I’m not your boss or your client.”

“I want this consulting contract more than I want you,” she declared, proud of herself for managing to make the claim without even a hint of a quaver in her voice. Deep down inside, she knew the balance of that equation could change if she let it.

He chuckled. “At least you’re admitting to the attraction.”

Melanie silently cursed the slip. “Doesn’t matter,” she insisted. “It’s not powerful enough to make me lose my focus.”

“Now there’s the way to win a man’s heart.”

Realizing that her attempt to make a point might have bruised his ego, she quickly added, “Not that you’re not attractive and rich and an incredible catch for some woman.”

“Nice save.”

“I’m quick on my feet in tense situations. It’ll serve me well as I’m fending off the media when you decide to run for office.”

“I thought the whole idea was to captivate the media, not to fend them off.”

“Well, of course it is,” she said irritably. The man had a way of twisting her words to suit himself. She leveled a look into his eyes to prove she could hold her own, no matter what the level of intimidation. “But there are bound to be things you don’t want to talk about, skeletons in the closet, that sort of thing.”

His expression turned grim. “I don’t have skeletons in my closet.”

“No trail of brokenhearted women who’ll feel the need to tell all when the stakes are high?”

“No,” he said tersely.

She studied him with a narrowed gaze. “Men?”

He laughed. “Hardly, unless you consider the accountant I fired for trying to steal from the company to be a potential problem.”

“Good to know. Then you should be a dream client.”

His gaze met hers and he shook his head. “I don’t think so, Melanie.”

“But I have a plan,” she said, reaching for her proposal. It was a darned good one, too. She’d slaved over it for days.

His gaze never left her face. “So do I.”

Her pulse kicked up a notch. “We’re not on the same track, are we?”

“Not so far,” he agreed, his expression sober, his eyes filled with unexpected heat.

To Melanie’s sincere regret, somewhere deep inside, she wasn’t nearly as upset by that as she should have been. Even so, she was holding out for what she wanted...the very lucrative contract. Sleeping with Richard to get it simply wasn’t in the cards.

“Then I suppose I should help you clean up,” she said as if the rest of it didn’t matter. “Then I’ll get out of your hair so you can go back to work. Good thing I’m never without a good book to read.”

“No room for negotiation?” he inquired.

“None,” she said flatly.

“Fine,” he said, giving up what had been little more than a fainthearted battle to begin with. “Never mind cleaning up. I’ll take care of it. You can take the guest room at the top of the stairs on the left. The bathroom’s next door.”

It rankled that he thought he could dismiss her so easily. “You cooked,” she said with determination. “I’ll clean up.”

She met his gaze, challenging him to argue. He didn’t. He merely shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He turned his back and headed to his computer. Within seconds, he appeared to be thoroughly engrossed in a screen of what appeared to her to be incomprehensible columns of figures.

Obviously the man didn’t like to lose, didn’t like the fact that she’d thwarted his plan to turn this weekend into a romantic encounter. Never mind that the encounter was one he hadn’t really wanted. He was obviously more than willing to take advantage of the circumstances since the opportunity had presented itself. Of course, he was just as willing to forget about it, which meant he’d only been toying with her, playing a game he’d been prepared to lose.

Ignoring Richard, Melanie managed to get the dishes, pots and pans into the dishwasher with a minimum of banging, despite her desire to make as much racket as possible. She still held out a slim hope that in the clear light of day, Richard would recognize that he had behaved badly and would at least consider her proposal on its merits. Destiny believed her nephew was a man of integrity, and Melanie very much wanted to believe her friend was right.

“Good night,” she muttered as she stalked past him on her way upstairs.

He mumbled a response, as if he were totally distracted, but she knew better. She could feel his gaze following her as she left the room and climbed the stairs.

Inside the guest room, which had charming chintz wallpaper above old-fashioned white beadboard especially suited to a beach cottage, Melanie sank onto the queen-size bed with its antique iron headboard and tried to figure out how the evening had gone so dreadfully awry. It wasn’t as if she’d never been propositioned before. It happened all the time. It wasn’t as if Richard had pushed after she’d said no. In fact, he’d taken her at her word and remained reasonably good-humored about the firm rejection.

And wasn’t that the real problem? Had she wanted him to ride roughshod over her objections? Had she wanted him to sweep her into his arms, kiss her until she melted and then carry her up to this very romantic bed? She’d never been one to lie to herself, and the truth was that a part of her had wanted exactly that. Thankfully, sanity had prevailed—his apparently more so than hers. Her principles remained intact, as much a credit to his restraint as to her stern words. She would be able to face him in the morning with head held high.

She picked up a down pillow and pummeled it. Fat lot of comfort those principles were going to be during the rest of this long, cold night.

* * *

Richard was up at dawn after a restless night. He felt oddly disgruntled, as if he’d done something wrong, something he ought to apologize for, but damned if he knew what that was. He’d made his desire for Melanie clear. She’d said no. He’d accepted that. The exchange should have ended the evening with no hard feelings.

Instead, she’d stalked off as if he’d offended her. Damned if he would ever understand women. He thought he’d given her what she wanted, a night alone in her own bed.

Of course, what she really wanted was that consulting job, and he wasn’t prepared to offer her that. She’d drive him crazy in days, maybe even hours.

He was drinking his first cup of his special-blend coffee, when he heard her tentative footsteps coming downstairs. Uncertain what to expect, he tightened his grip on his cup and watched the doorway with a grim expression.

Instead of the dour, accusing woman he was expecting, in walked Little Mary Sunshine, all smiles and bright eyes.

“Good morning,” she said cheerfully. “Isn’t the snow gorgeous? I’ve never been at the beach after a snowstorm before. It really is like a winter wonderland out there, don’t you think?”

“I suppose,” he said cautiously.

“Haven’t you even looked outside?”

“Of course I have.” The truth was, he’d been too dismayed by the sight of the impassable roads to take much joy in the picturesque landscape.

As if she’d read his mind, she laughed. “You’re panicked because there’s no chance of me getting out of here this morning, aren’t you?”

“I’m sure you have things you’d rather be doing,” he said defensively. “Places you’d rather be.”

“Not really,” she said cheerfully.

Richard stared at her. Only after he’d studied her closely did he detect the faint wariness in her eyes. She was putting on a show for him, and it was a pretty decent one. It had almost had him fooled.

“Want some breakfast?” he asked.

“Cereal will do.”

“I was thinking of making French toast with maple syrup. That’s what Destiny always makes when we’re here. She considered it a vacation treat.”

Her eyes lit up, and this time her enthusiasm seemed genuine. “And you can make French toast?”

He laughed at the hint of amazement in her voice. “It’s not that hard.”

He moved past her, gathered a few eggs, butter and milk from the refrigerator.

“I’ll set the table,” she said, heading toward the dishwasher.

“I’ve already put the dishes away,” he told her.

“How long have you been up?”

“Hours.”

She gave him a knowing look. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“I’m always an early riser.”

“Not me. I like sleeping in. Being up at dawn is unnatural.”

“Not once you’ve seen a sunrise over the river,” he said. “Grab a couple of plates and a bowl, then come over here.”

She set the dishes on the table, then regarded him warily. “Why over there?”

“I’m going to teach you how to make this. You might as well go away from this weekend with one new skill.”

She backed off as if he’d suggested teaching her alligator-wrestling. “I don’t think so. You probably only have a dozen eggs here. I can ruin more than that without half-trying.”

Richard refused to back down. “Over here, or I’ll think you’re scared of being close to me.” He met her gaze. “Maybe even tempted to take me up on that proposition I made last night.”

“That was a bad idea,” she reminded him.

“Yeah, I got that.”

“But I’m not scared of you.”

He bit back a grin. “If you say so.” He held out an egg. “Break this into the bowl. Try not to get any shell in there.”

She smashed it with so much enthusiasm, he suspected she was pretending it was his skull. Egg and shell dribbled into the bowl. He dumped the mess into the sink and handed her another egg. “Try again.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if you just went ahead and did it?”

“Easier, but you wouldn’t learn anything.”

“It’s not your job to be my cooking instructor.”

“It is if I ever expect you to prepare a meal for me.”

Her hand stilled over the bowl. “I thought we’d settled that. There’s not going to be anything personal between us.”

“That would be the smart plan,” he agreed, not entirely sure why he was so determined to pursue this. He was always, always smart. He skirted around mistakes at all costs, especially when they were staring him right in the face in a way that made them totally avoidable.

“It’s the only plan,” she insisted.

“Not really.” He placed a hand over hers and guided it gently to the side of the bowl, then cracked the egg. It fell neatly into the bowl without so much as a sliver of shell. Melanie stared at it in obvious surprise.

“Now do that without my help,” he instructed.

She broke another egg and then a third one, looking more incredulous each time she succeeded. “Well, I’ll be darned.” She gazed up at him. “Now what?”

“Now we add a little milk, a touch of vanilla, and whip it till it’s frothy.”

Clearly more confident, she reached for the milk and added a too-generous splash. She was a little too stingy with the vanilla, but he refrained from comment and handed her the whisk. She stared at it as if it were a foreign object. Richard bit back another smile. “You use it to whip the eggs.”

“Why not a beater?”

“This is easier.” He nudged her aside with his hip and took the whisk. “Like this.”

She watched him closely, a little furrow of concentration knitting her brow. He couldn’t help wondering if she was this intense about everything she did. Best not to go there.

“Now you do it,” he said, handing the whisk back.

She tackled the task with more enthusiasm than finesse, but she got the job done with only a minimal amount of splashing. There was enough egg left in the bowl for at least a couple of pieces of French toast.

Hiding his amusement, Richard put some butter in a pan, then handed her the bread. “Dip it in the eggs till both sides are coated, then put it in the pan once the butter’s melted. I’ll get the syrup.”

He turned away for no more than a few seconds, but that was long enough for her to manage to splatter her hand with the now-sizzling butter. He heard her curse and turned back to find her with tears in her eyes.

“Let me see,” he commanded.

“It’s nothing,” she protested. “Just a little burn. I told you I’m hopeless in the kitchen.”

“Not hopeless, just inexperienced. Sit down. I’ll get some ointment for your hand.”

“The French toast will be ruined,” she argued.

“Then we’ll make more.” He took the pan off the burner, grabbed the first-aid kit, then pulled a chair up beside hers. “Let me see.”

She held out her right hand, which already had a blister the size of a dime. He took her hand in his, trying not to notice how soft it was and how it seemed to fit so perfectly in his own. He put a little of the salve on the blister, but couldn’t bring himself to release her hand. Instead, he waited until her head came up and her gaze met his.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he apologized. “I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I don’t even know why I said those things. I just wanted to push your buttons, I guess.”

Temper immediately flashed in her eyes. “It was some kind of game? You didn’t really want to sleep with me? I knew it. What kind of man are you?”

Uh-oh. That had definitely come out all wrong. “No,” he said at once. “That’s not it. Dammit, somehow whenever I’m with you, my words get all tangled up.”

“I seem to have the same difficulty,” she admitted with obvious reluctance.

He wanted to be sure she understood. “I do want you, but I also respect what you were saying about not getting involved with a client or even a prospective client. Besides, it’s not as if we know each other well enough for me to haul you off to bed. That’s not a step two people should take on impulse.”

“No,” she agreed softly.

He risked another look into her eyes. The temper had faded, replaced by heat of another kind entirely. She lifted her uninjured hand and touched his cheek.

“Impulses are a risky thing,” she said.

“Melanie.” His voice sounded choked.

“Yes, Richard.”

“It’s still a bad idea. You were right about that.”

“I know,” she said, but her hand continued to rest against his cheek.

“I still want to kiss you,” he murmured honestly, aware that he was testing the waters, waiting for a response. When she didn’t protest or back away, the last of his resolve vanished. “Ah, hell,” he whispered, reaching for her.

She tasted of mint-flavored toothpaste and coffee. It wasn’t a combination he would normally have found the slightest bit seductive, but right this second it struck him as heavenly. He wanted more.

Her lips were as soft and clever as he’d dreamed about during the long, lonely night. Her tongue was downright wicked.

But even as his senses whirled and his blood heated, his conscience wouldn’t stay silent. A nagging voice kept asking him what the hell he thought he was doing. Seducing the sexiest woman to cross his path in months did not strike him as an adequate answer. It certainly wouldn’t hold up to a grilling by his aunt, who was this woman’s friend. Destiny might have a plan for the two of them, but he was relatively confident this wasn’t it.

Eventually he let the voice in his head win, releasing Melanie reluctantly and sitting back on his chair, his hands clenched together as if he didn’t quite trust them to do what his head told them to do.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

“I kissed you back,” she said honestly.

He grinned at her determined attempt to be fair. It was not an attitude he especially deserved, and they both knew it. “True enough,” he said anyway, because he liked putting some heat into her eyes.

“You don’t have to gloat,” she grumbled.

He held up his hands. “Not gloating,” he swore solemnly.

She regarded him with an intense, unsmiling expression. “Richard, just so you know, nothing’s changed. I still won’t sleep with you and I still want that contract.”

Richard didn’t doubt either claim. He just wasn’t sure he could live with them. Worse, he didn’t know why the devil that was, which meant mistakes could start piling up before he figured it out if he didn’t watch himself around her every single second. The trouble with that plan was that he much preferred simply watching her.

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