Some Like It Hot (8 page)

“I don’t have a family,” he said bluntly. “Not anymore. Only child. Both my parents are dead.”

“Oh, Robert.”

The sympathy in her voice was real and he was touched by it. He felt the growing bond between them strengthen. “It was a long time ago.”

“I’m so sorry. I know how badly it hurts to lose a parent, but to lose them both when you’re so young…”

“I’ve dealt with it,” he said gruffly.

“That explains a lot.”

“How so?”

“Why you can be so distant and brooding at times. Why
you bury yourself in your work. It’s an escape for you, isn’t it?”

“Work is work—I don’t use it as an escape.” But he knew that wasn’t true.

“So when do you play?”

“I’m not much for idle pastimes.”

“What you’re saying is you don’t know how to have fun. Your childhood got ruined and you never learned how to play, did you?”

“No, I didn’t have a fun and sunny childhood.” He didn’t like being psychoanalyzed.

“I could teach you,” she said. “How to have fun, I mean.”

“Maybe I don’t want to learn.”

“You only say that because you’ve never really had any fun. I can tell.”

“Shh, go to sleep,” he said. She was not only right but very perceptive.

“You’re weird, you know that? I could be locked in here with a dozen different guys and every single one of them would crumble. What makes you so in control, Robert? Or is it that you just don’t have any feelings? Are you mannequin man?”

She was trying to goad him into making love to her, but he would not fall for it. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from grabbing her and giving her exactly what she wanted.

Silence loomed, a tangible thing.

“You still awake?” she whispered a few minutes later.

He didn’t answer, pretending to be asleep, and eventually she stilled. With a mixture of regret and relief, he lay listening to the soft sounds of her breathing.

Melanie’s body was firmly muscled, yet at the same time softly curved. She was uninhibited about her sexuality, and that fact alone unnerved him. He was outclassed and out of his league, and he knew it. His last few relationships had been with calm, studious women who could either take sex or leave it. And that was what Robert told himself he wanted.

The gleam in Melanie’s eyes whenever he kissed her told him she cared about sex and cared deeply. How could he ever hope to measure up to her expectations? Or satisfy her sexually? She thrived on thrills and excitement, and he was as dull as they came.

But he wanted her so much his mind was muddled and his heart actually hurt.

Which was exactly the quandary.

He wanted her. He couldn’t have her. She was all wrong for him and he was all wrong for her. He didn’t do runaway lust and she didn’t do commitment.

He was just experiencing a physical reaction. Chemistry. It meant nothing.

“Absolutely nothing.”

But even as he whispered the words in the darkness, Robert knew they simply weren’t true.

M
ELANIE COULDN’T SLEEP
.

Not with her head resting on Robert’s hard-muscled chest. Not when she could hear the steady beat of his heart vibrating up through his rib cage and into her ear. Not when her feelings were so muddled.

It seemed her world as she knew it was slowly shifting, and she didn’t know whether to embrace what she was
feeling or run away from it. On the one hand she loved the novelty of a new experience. On the other, these feelings for Robert scared Melanie more than she cared to admit.

You’re just horny,
she tried to tell herself.
Robert is sexy as hell and it’s been a very long time since you’ve been with a man. That’s all it is.

How she wanted that to be true. But it wasn’t. Like it or not, something important had changed between them. She was both alarmed and exhilarated by the prospect.

Hours passed. Dawn couldn’t be far away. Melanie was lying there, wondering how Robert could sleep so soundly on the very lumpy flour sacks, in the stuffy room, when she heard a noise in the kitchen.

The hairs on her arms lifted and she held her breath, straining to listen. Was it the person who’d locked them in here together? Her heart thumped and she sat up.

“Robert,” she whispered urgently, and poked him in the ribs. The darkness was so complete she couldn’t see him.

He grunted.

“Wake up.”

“Huh?”

“There’s someone in the kitchen.”

“Melanie? What’s going on?” He sounded sleep-addled, confused.

“We got locked in the pantry together. Remember?”

“Oh. Right.”

“And there’s someone in the kitchen,” she repeated. She felt him push up on his elbows beside her.

“Hey!” he shouted. “We’re locked in.”

“Shh, what if it’s the guy?”

“What guy?”

“I don’t know. The guy who’s going around causing trouble at the hotel.”

“How do you know—never mind.” He took her hand and they struggled to their feet in the darkness, stumbling over the flour sacks.

“Ow! Son of a—” Robert swore darkly.

“What is it?”

“My shin hit the dolly.”

Just then the pantry door was wrenched open, light from the kitchen filling the tiny room. Melanie blinked against the sudden illumination, trying to make out who was standing in the doorway.

It was Luc Carter, the hotel concierge.

Luc was blond and blue-eyed like Robert, but slightly shorter and, in Melanie’s estimation at least, not nearly as sexy. Melanie preferred Robert’s more rugged looks to Luc’s almost too perfect features. Luc was a likable, easygoing guy, but Melanie found herself wondering what he was doing in the kitchen so early in the morning.

“What’s going on?” Luc asked.

“We got locked in.” Robert stifled a yawn.

“You’ve been here all night?” Luc glanced from Robert to Melanie, and a bemused smile crossed his face. She could see from the expression in his eyes that he was putting two and two together and coming up with a very steamy scenario.

“Yeah.” Robert ran a hand through his hair.

“Wild.” Luc’s grin widened.

“What time is it?” Robert asked.

“Five-thirty. How’d you get locked in?” Luc frowned and studied the locking mechanism on the door.

Robert clued him in about the delivery being left unat
tended on the loading dock and someone shutting them up inside the pantry together.

“You should probably let security know, but if nothing’s been touched in the kitchen, it sounds like a harmless prank.” Luc shrugged.

“Not so harmless when you consider Melanie’s claustrophobic.” Robert’s words were like an accusation.

“You are?” Luc looked genuinely surprised. “I didn’t know that.”

“Why don’t we all just keep this to ourselves?” Melanie said. “Maybe it
was
one of the kitchen staff pulling a prank. No point in worrying Charlotte for nothing.”

“Agreed,” Robert said.

Luc nodded.

“You’re here awfully early,” Melanie said to Luc. “Working overtime?”

“Charlotte asked me to come in early all week. Just your luck I came through the kitchen on my way to the bar to get a can of Bloody Mary mix for an early-rising guest who indulged too much last night and wanted a little hair of the dog. Otherwise you guys would have been stuck in here until the kitchen staff showed up.”

“Just our luck,” Robert echoed, and Melanie couldn’t help wondering if he suspected that Luc was the one who’d locked them in.

She gave herself a shake. Spending a night in the pantry seemed to have left her delusional as well as exhausted.

I
T WAS JUST AFTER
6:00 a.m. when Melanie got home, hoping to grab a nap before she had to be back at the restaurant by noon. She kicked off her shoes and had just opened a can of cat food for the mewling kitten when her doorbell rang.

Who could that be at this hour of the morning?

She padded to the door, peered through the peephole and saw Charlotte standing on her landing, holding a garment bag. Rats, she’d forgotten about the dress for the charity auction.

Sighing, she opened the door.

Charlotte stared at her, eyes widening. “Mel? Mellie?” she asked, calling her by her childhood nickname. “Are you okay? You look…well, as if you’ve been up all night.”

Her gaze lingered on Melanie’s top. Melanie glanced down and saw that the buttons were in the wrong holes. She’d buttoned up in the dark last night and hadn’t noticed. Trust her eagle-eyed sister not to miss a thing.

“I didn’t know you were coming by so early.” Melanie ran a hand through her hair. She debated whether to straighten the buttons, but decided at this point it would call more attention to her disheveled appearance than if she ignored them.

“You look like you’ve been up all night partying.” Charlotte pressed her lips into a thin line.

Melanie almost told her about getting locked in the pantry with Robert, but decided against it—whether because of the twitch at the corner of Charlotte’s mouth, or the fact that she hadn’t yet sorted out her feelings about what happened between herself and Robert.

“I didn’t sleep well,” she mumbled. That was true enough. No lie there. Who could sleep with raging hormones and no outlet for them, while trapped in a supply closet for hours with a very sexy man?

“Are you going to invite me in?” Charlotte lifted an eyebrow.

Melanie’s place was a mess. She hadn’t cleaned in days, but she couldn’t very well leave her sister standing on the landing. Melanie stood aside. “Come on in.”

Charlotte stepped over the threshold. “Oh look, you’ve got a kitten.” She draped the garment bag over the back of a kitchen chair and reached down to pick up the furry animal. She glanced up at Melanie, a happy smile on her face.

“She’s not my kitten. She showed up on the doorstep a couple of days ago and I haven’t had a chance to ask around the apartment complex to see if she belongs to anyone.”

“Oh.” Charlotte set the kitten on the floor and went to the sink to wash up. Melanie could have sworn her sister sounded disappointed, but she couldn’t fathom why.

Charlotte eyed the dishes stacked in the sink. She didn’t say anything, but the look on her face was enough to make Melanie feel guilty for being such a slob.

“Do you have any coffee?” Charlotte asked. “I’ll make a pot of coffee. You look like you could use it.”

Melanie groaned inwardly. So much for a nap. “In the pantry,” she said.

“Why don’t you try on the dress? See if it fits? There’s still time to get it altered.”

She didn’t want to try on the dress, but she also didn’t want to upset Charlotte. While her sister rummaged in the pantry for coffee, Melanie took the dress from the garment bag. This time, she did groan out loud. “What’s this?”

“What?” Charlotte asked.

Melanie held up the silver, floor-length, strapless taffeta gown.

“You didn’t tell me it’s a formal event!”

“It’s a masquerade ball.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“You’re not thinking of bailing out now?”

“No,” Melanie forced herself to reply. “I’m all in.”

Charlotte set the coffee on the countertop. “I want you to know I really appreciate you standing in for me. I was pulling out my hair with so many things on my plate and not knowing how I was going to fit this in.”

The idea of her perfectly coiffed sister pulling out her hair was ludicrous, but Melanie understood the analogy. Just looking at the taffeta gown was enough to make her want to pull her own hair out. She took a deep breath.
You can do this. It’s for charity and earns you brownie points with both Grand-mère and Charlotte.

“It’s no big deal.” She shrugged but could not deny the warmth Charlotte’s words sparked in her heart.

“Where’s the coffeemaker?” Charlotte glanced around the kitchen.

“On the counter underneath the bar.”

“I still don’t see it.”

“Next to the answering machine.”

“You keep your answering machine in your kitchen?”

“It’s handier here than in the bedroom. I don’t have a phone jack in the living room.”

“I’m sorry, but I still don’t see it.”

“It’s got tea towels stacked on top of it.”

“Ah.” Charlotte whipped the towels off the coffeemaker and laid them across the answering machine. “There you are.”

She busied herself with measuring out the coffee, and Melanie couldn’t help wondering how her sister could look so polished at this time of the morning. She was amazing.

“I suppose I should warn you about something regarding the auction,” Charlotte said, without meeting Melanie’s eye.

“Don’t tell me. There’s a matching tiara that comes with the dress.”

“No tiara, I promise.”

“Then how bad can it be? Besides wearing this dress, I mean.” Melanie poked the gown with a finger.

“Wilmer Haddock’s going to be there.”

“No.”

“Sorry.”

Melanie covered her head with her arms. “Just kill me now, please.”

“Come on, Wilmer’s not
that
bad.”

“Said by a woman who’s never been the object of his affection.”

Wilmer Haddock owned a curio shop down the street, and his family had lived in the French Quarter as long as the Marchands. Melanie and Wilmer were the same age and he’d had a crush on her since they were in grade school. When they were fifteen, he’d stuck his hand down her dress at a
church picnic, and when she’d slapped his face for it, he actually thought that meant she liked him and was just playing hard to get. He’d never married, and to this day, whenever he saw her, he told her he was waiting for her to come to her senses and realize they were meant to be together.

“Seriously? You’re not just teasing me? Wilmer is actually going to be there?”

“You know he belongs to the Historical Restoration Society.”

“He only joined to kiss up to Grand-mère Celeste, thinking he could get to me through her. Lucky for me Grand-mère sees right through the unctuous dweeb. He’ll bid on me until he outbids everyone else, and I’ll be stuck spending the entire night dodging his happy hands.”

“You never know. Maybe someone else will bid on you.”

“Yeah, right.”

“You’re not thinking of backing out on me, are you? Because if you are, let me know now. Don’t wait until Thursday night when it’s too late.”

“I’m not backing out on you, Char. Although you could have shared that little tidbit about Wilmer when you asked me to stand in for you.”

“I didn’t know it then. I just found out yesterday when I was passing by Haddock’s Curios and Wilmer came out to tell me how excited he was that you were back home for good.”

Melanie pressed her lips tight to keep from groaning again. Well, if nothing else, this would be a true test of her commitment. Sticking out this bachelorette auction should prove to Charlotte that she could depend on her.

Charlotte stood on tiptoes to grab the cups on a shelf that was the perfect height for Melanie’s reach, but too high for her much shorter older sister. She lost her balance, wobbled and in the process ended up losing control over the cups. One fell to the counter, landing on the towel covering the answering machine.

“Whew,” Charlotte said. “What luck.”

“See, if it wasn’t for my messy clutter, that cup would be broken now.”

“I never said anything about the clutter.”

“You didn’t have to. You screw up your mouth when you disapprove of something.”

“I do?”

“Yup.”

The answering machine beeped and they both startled as it began to play her messages.

“Ms. Marchand, this is Tad Lasiter with Chefs-to-Go. I’ve found the perfect job opportunity for you in Seattle. I’m waiting for your call back.” He left a number.

“Chefs to go?” Charlotte raised an eyebrow.

“Headhunter.”

“Toots, it’s Coby.” Her friend’s voice spun from the answering machine out into the room. “Have I got the goods for you, and let me just say, it’s primo stuff. Call me!”

The machine beeped again as the message ended.

Charlotte looked at Melanie. “Primo stuff?

“A friend scored me some hard-to-find chocolate.” Melanie didn’t like fibbing, but she certainly wasn’t going to tell Charlotte that she’d had Robert investigated. It all seemed so silly now, and pointless. Especially in light of what she and Robert had shared the night before. But from the sound of his voice, Coby had obviously uncovered something juicy.

“You’re blushing,” Charlotte said.

Melanie raised a hand to her cheek. “I’m not.”

“Are you embarrassed?” her sister teased. “Is this friend more than just a friend?”

Coby? It was all she could do not to burst out laughing. Had Charlotte not picked up from the flamboyant quality in Coby’s voice that he would never be interested in anything except friendship with a woman?

“Uh, no.”

“Hmm, who is he?”

“Coby Harrington. Lives in Seattle.”

Charlotte’s face fell. “You’re not thinking of moving to Seattle for this guy? Is that what the Chefs-to-Go thing was about, too?”

“Charlotte, believe me when I tell you the last thing on my mind is a romance with Coby Harrington.”

“Okay, if you say so.”

Charlotte poured the coffee and they spent the next few minutes purposely ignoring the tension Coby’s message had caused, and chatting about preparations for the Charboneaux-Long wedding. Charlotte was doing everything in her power to ensure that nothing went wrong with this event. Melanie again toyed with the idea of telling her sister about her and Robert getting locked in the pantry at Chez Remy the night before, but decided against it. Charlotte had enough to worry about.

“You never did try on the dress,” her sister said.

“It’ll fit.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to try it on? I’m a lot shorter than you.”

“I can let the hem out on my own,” Melanie stated. “And we both wear a size six. It should be fine.”

“All right.” Charlotte got to her feet. “Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome.” She walked her sister to the door.

The minute Charlotte was gone, Melanie charged to the phone, anxious to call Coby back and find out exactly what he’d unearthed about Robert. She forgot about the time difference, and it took several rings before Coby answered in a grumpy voice.

“This better be important,” he groused.

“Coby, it’s Melanie. I just got your message.”

“Toots, it’s almost five o’clock in the morning here. If it wasn’t you, I’d hang up and tell you to call back at a human hour.”

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t stop to factor in the time difference. Forgive me?”

“You’re forgiven, but only because this gossip is too juicy for me to pout too long.”

“What did you find out about Robert LeSoeur?” she asked. For some crazy reason her pulse sped up, and she could almost feel the hot blood racing through her veins. She tightened her grip on the receiver.

“It’s scandal, scandal, scandal.”

Now that she’d put all this in motion, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the scuttlebutt on Robert, but on the other hand she couldn’t stand not knowing. “Stop teasing and just tell me.”

“Aw, you’re no fun.”

“Spill it,” she growled.

“Okay, here’s the deal. Your friend LeSoeur comes from very old money.”

“What do you mean?”

“High society, just like your mother’s family. Maybe even more so.”

“He’s rich?”

“Loaded.”

“What else?” She couldn’t say why she was so impatient, but she wanted to rip the words out of Coby’s throat.

“Robert got into some legal trouble when he was eighteen. His aunt, Pamela Longren—”

“Congresswoman Pamela Longren?” Melanie interrupted him.

“That’d be the one. Anyway, at the time Robert got into trouble, she was the local D.A. and she got him off scott-free. She had his record expunged, the whole works.”

Melanie inhaled sharply. She wasn’t sure she wanted to ask the next question, but she’d taken things this far, so might as well see it through.

“What kind of trouble? What were the charges leveled against him?”

“Guess.”

She had to bite her tongue to keep from yelling at Coby. He enjoyed the drama and she
had
woken him up at an indecent hour. “I don’t know. He spray-painted obscene graffiti art on a public building?”

“You wish it was that mild.”

“He stole a car and went joy-riding.”

“Worse.”

Melanie closed her eyes and tried to imagine Robert as a teenager. What could he have done that was so bad? He was so controlled. But he did have a brooding side. Her stomach torqued as she imagined the worst. “He killed someone.”

“Gosh, no, toots. Take it down a notch. The man’s not a gangster.”

“What else is there?”

“Come on, you’ve been in the restaurant business long enough to know the answer.”

“Drugs?”

“Ding, ding, ding, give the girl a Kewpie doll.”

“What kind of drugs?”

“Guess again.”

“Marijuana?”

“Ganja is child’s play. Up here the cops don’t even spank your hand for that.”

Melanie moistened her lips. Her chest was so tight she had trouble drawing in air. She didn’t want to believe any of this about Robert. Maybe Coby had made a mistake. Maybe there was another Robert LeSoeur.

“Cocaine?” She exhaled. Her ex-husband had snorted cocaine, and just thinking of Robert messing around with the stuff made her feel sick to her stomach.

“Bingo,” Coby said. “Want to know what else?”

“I want everything you’ve got,” she said. “All of it.”

C
HARLOTTE SAT IN THE CAR
outside Melanie’s apartment, keys clutched in her hand. She had a tight schedule to keep, but she couldn’t make herself start the engine.

There was something going on with her sister. She’d looked disheveled and bleary-eyed, and her blouse had been buttoned up wrong. Charlotte didn’t want to speculate on the cause. And those phone messages she’d heard concerned her. Was Melanie considering a move to Seattle?