Isn't It Rich? (3 page)

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.

T
hough 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? Sugges
tions? 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 week
end 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 ex
pecting, 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.”