A Husband for Melanie

by Cheryl Wright

Melanie had never witnessed such skill and precision in the kitchen.

  “You will get used to it.” He winked at her, then returned to his cuisine.

  It all looked so…appetizing. “It looks amazing,” she said quietly, almost lost for words.

  He laughed. “Of course. The great Philippe created it!” He grinned as he went back to the food.

  She stared down into the pan. “You make it look so easy. I can barely put a cheese toastie together.”

  He frowned. “Are you looking after yourself, Melanie?”

  “Of course,” she said lightheartedly. At least she got a hot meal at work when she wanted one.

  Philippe pulled out two dinner plates from a cupboard and placed them on the counter top. He pulled the scalloped potatoes from the oven, and drained the carrots, placing them on the plates as well.

  He lifted the pan from the stove and carefully added the chicken mixture to the plates.

  Taking each of the plates, he guided Melanie to the table. “Sit, eat, drink,” he said, placing a plate in front of her.

  “Dare I ask what it is?” She had no clue.

  “Madame,” he said dramatically. “I present to you Chicken Masala.”

  Melanie leaned down to breathe it in. “It smells amazing.”

  Philippe stared at her then chuckled. “It is amazing. Philippe created it!”

  They both laughed then tucked in.

  * * *

  After indulging in the incredible melt-in-your-mouth crepes filled with an assortment of fresh berries and topped with strawberry cream, Melanie sat back and patted her belly. “I have never been so blown away by a meal in my entire life.” She wiped at her mouth with a linen napkin. How did she know Philippe wouldn’t use paper napkins?

  A slow smile crossed his lips. “That is because Philippe created it!” They both laughed – it was becoming an private joke between the two of them. One that Melanie was enjoying.

  “Seriously though, Melanie,” Philippe said quietly. “I am glad you enjoyed it, but I do worry about your eating habits. Perhaps you need to eat here more often.” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his own.

  She looked down at their entwined hands, and swallowed. Did she dare she risk it? Her heart was already in great peril where this man was concerned.

  She swallowed again and stared into his mesmerizing brown eyes. “I could probably endure that incredible hardship,” she said seriously.

  She meant for it to come across as a joke, but it was no laughing matter.

  Was he suggesting they become more than just friends? At this very moment she was so enamored with Philippe, and had no other thoughts on her mind. She wasn’t sure if it was the food or the man.

  But of course it was the man. She’d felt this way even before she’d come here tonight.

  His lopsided grin lit up his face.

  She straightened her shoulders. “I recall you wanted to talk?” Her eyes had strayed to his lips and didn’t budge. When she finally pulled her gaze away she noticed he was staring at her lips.

  “What? Do I have food on my mouth?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No, mon amour. I was thinking about kissing you, but you’re too far away,” he said quietly.

  What did she say to that? Things were getting too serious, way too quickly.

  “Perhaps that is a good thing.” Her voice was almost a whisper.

  He pushed his chair back and walked the few steps to reach her. “We shall retire to the loungeroom,” he said, then put his hand to her back as she stood.

  She braced herself for the zing that always ran through her at his touch.

  They sat side by side on the couch, the warmth of his knee touching hers was comforting. “I know you have questions,” he said, studying her face. “Surely many questions.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “Oui.” She shook her head. She was picking up his habits! “I mean yes,” she said, shocked that she’d slipped into French so easily and without even thinking.

  “That is so cute,” he said, grinning. “See, you do remember your high school French.” He chuckled, but she didn’t think it was amusing at all.

  “As you know,” he said, taking her by the hand. “Amelie is four. But sadly, she has no mother.” He looked to the floor as he caressed her hand.

  No mother? How could that be? But she said nothing.

  “It is a tragic story,” he said quietly. “She was beautiful, Amelie’s mother. Inside and out, and we were very much in love.” He shook his head sadly.

  She squeezed his hand, trying to encourage him.

  “We’d been to a family day out. Her family were there, as well as some of my family members. We all got to spend the day together at the zoo. It was an amazing day.”

  He paused for a moment and swallowed. Melanie could see how difficult this was for him.

  “Yvette was eight months pregnant. We were looking forward to the birth of our little one.”

  He swallowed hard, his jaw tightened, and Melanie could see the distress on his face. All she could do was let him get his story out, and be there to support him.

  “We were on our way home, and I was driving.” He closed his eyes tight, then flinched as though he’d seen something terrible.

  Melanie had a feeling of foreboding. This was not going to end well.

  “He came out of nowhere,” Philippe said, his eyes still closed tight.

  He suddenly opened his eyes wide. “A drunk driver – he drove into the passenger side and killed my beautiful Yvette.” His voice was low and shaking and his eyes filled with tears. “The doctors managed to save my Amelie, but her mother was gone.”

  A tear slid down his face, and Melanie’s eyes filled with tears. What could she say? Nothing could make this better.

  She leaned in and hugged him, her own face wet with hot tears.

  They sat there together, hugging each other tight until Philippe pulled away.

  “I’m a terrible host,” he said, suddenly standing and wiping at his eyes. He turned and put on some soft music. “Dance with me, Melanie?” he asked softly.

  This was a greater risk than any she’d taken before. To be so close to him, to feel his body against hers, it was a torment more than she’d ever endured.

  They swayed gently to the music, and Melanie leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder. She reveled in his gentle touch, and the warmth from his body comforted her.

  His lips were close to her ear. “I’m sorry, Melanie,” he said gently. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  She licked her parched lips. “Please don’t apologize.”

  He reached up, and his hand touched her cheek. “It was hard to say the words, but you had to understand. I couldn’t have you hating Amelie’s mother for abandoning her.”

  He pulled back and looked into her face, then placed a finger across her lips. “It is a natural conclusion. I understand.”

  He pulled his finger away and stared into her eyes. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he said gently.

  And that’s exactly what he did.

  Chapter Nine

  The lights were low, and Philippe was about to kiss Melanie again.

  He was interrupted by his sister rushing through the front door. “I am so sorry; I didn’t mean to be so late.”

  She’d been putting her keys away and finally looked up. “Oh,” she said with surprise. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  A sly smile crept across her face. Danielle had been trying to hook him up with other women for far too long. He wasn’t ready before – it was hard, very hard – to leave the guilt behind. He would never forget Yvette, but he needed to move on with his life.

  Meeting Melanie had been the catalyst. He’d felt something for her almost the moment he’d met her. But she was holding back.

  They both were.

  “Did you enjoy dinner?” Danielle asked Melanie, who pulled out of his arms to face her. He felt empty without her being s
o close.

  “It was amazing,” she answered. “I’ve never been to a five-star restaurant, but I’m sure that was a five-star meal.”

  “Only five-star?” He couldn’t help himself, and chuckled.

  Melanie stared at him. “You are so arrogant,” she told him with a grin.

  He pulled her close again. “I know, but you love it,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Bonne nuit, goodnight,” Danielle said as she left them alone and headed to her room.

  “Bonne nuit,” Philippe repeated, but was much more interested in the warm body he held close to him.

  “Melanie.” He said her name slowly, the way she loved him saying it. “Where do we go from here? I…I have feelings for you. Great feelings for you.”

  She looked up at him. “I have feelings for you too, Philippe. But it’s too soon. Perhaps for both of us.”

  He stared into her face. “You’ve been hurt too,” he said gently. “In a different way.”

  She told him about Jefferson, about how he’d tried to run her life, even ruin her life. How he’d tried to ‘borrow’ money from her, and how he had become violent when he didn’t get his way. Luckily her cousin Braxton had been there to protect her.

  He caressed her cheek. “You know I will never do anything to harm you, Melanie?” He tipped her chin up and lightly kissed her lips.

  When he pulled back, she nodded. “I know. You’re not like him.” He pulled her into a big bear hug.

  “It’s late. I should take you home, but I don’t want this night to end.”

  She walked toward the coat stand and snatched up her jacket. “Me either, but we both have to work tomorrow.” She said it with regret, and it made his heart race.

  As he climbed into the driver’s side of his car, his thoughts were of their kiss goodnight when he would leave Melanie at her little unit.

  * * *

  “Yes Sir,” she said confidently. “I will have that rectified immediately.”

  She disconnected the call and rang housekeeping. “Room ten has accidentally smashed a bottle of wine on the wall,” she said sighing. “Please send someone up immediately. I’ll send security up as well. I won’t put our staff in danger.”

  Sometimes she wondered if it was really worth the effort of having these celebrity types at the inn, but she knew it was.

  The income from VIP’s far outweighed the tourist dollars. It was on a close par to the wedding income, but the latter was easier to deal with.

  And that reminded her…

  She picked up the phone. “Philippe, are you free to finish discussing the wedding garden idea? I promised the bride-to-be I’d get back to her in a couple of weeks, and that time is nearly up.”

  Since her visit to his house, Melanie had been dodging Philippe. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him, because she certainly did. It was more that she liked him far too much.

  Workplace romances rarely worked. But she knew she was more than smitten, so perhaps keeping her distance was the best option?

  She sighed. She didn’t want to keep her distance, but she needed to do it for her sanity.

  “I’ll meet you in the garden,” he said with a spring in his voice, and hung up.

  Melanie stood and straightened her skirt. She let her hair down, then pulled it back into a tidy bun. She was about to freshen up her lipstick when she realized what she was doing.

  “Oh for goodness sakes,” she told herself. “This is ridiculous.” She stormed out of her office and headed toward the garden.

  As she opened the door to the garden area, she saw him standing there, looking all forlorn.

  “Melanie,” he said in that singsong way he always said her name. She’d missed hearing it the past few days.

  She’d managed to avoid him most of the time, but that couldn’t continue – they had an upcoming wedding they had to coordinate.

  She stood welded to the spot. “Come,” he said softly, reaching his hand toward her.

  Walking the few steps it took to reach him, her heart pounded. Philippe was no longer just a work colleague, he’d become much more to her.

  As she got closer, her hand automatically reached out to his, and he smiled. He’d looked stressed when she first saw him, and wondered if that was her doing.

  He squeezed her hand, and his warmth enveloped her, despite them simply standing together.

  “This garden, it’s quite a mess,” he told her. “I think it could work though.”

  She swallowed. “You do?” Her voice came out a lot quieter than she’d intended.

  This would be her first big project for the inn, and she wanted it to be successful.

  “Over there,” he said pointing to one wall. “That could be where we add the bridal archway.”

  An archway? That was a great idea. Braxton and Sierra had an archway when they married, and it looked wonderful.

  “Chairs here,” she said, rushing to where she expected they’d go.

  He grinned. “Right. And over there in the far corner, that’s where we could have a table for appetizers.”

  Melanie clapped her hands. “It could work, right?”

  He stood staring at her, not saying a word. “Right?” Now she was worried. His eyes never left her face.

  He stepped silently toward her, his hand outreached. She stood planted to the spot, her heart thumping in her chest.

  He leaned forward, reaching for her hand, then pulled her into a hug, his warmth filling her heart.

  “Melanie,” he said softly. “I’ve missed you these past days. Have you changed your mind?” He frowned down at her.

  She shook her head. “Just trying to keep it professional.”

  His fingers hooked under her chin. “Forget professional,” he said abruptly. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

  She leaned into him, relishing the feel of him so close to her. The feeling of being cared for, if not loved, made her feel good. Special.

  Their lips touched and Melanie sighed. She felt safe with Philippe, and knew he would never hurt her.

  His kiss was gentle, as it always was. She never wanted to leave his side.

  She turned away and rested her head against his shoulder. They stood together in silence, her eyes closed, drinking in their precious time together.

  Then she reluctantly pulled away.

  “So you think this could work?” she asked him in her professional tone, disregarding what had just occurred. What they’d just experienced.

  “Melanie…” He shook his head.

  “No?” Was he shaking his head because it wouldn’t work, or because she’d suddenly turned professional on him?

  “Oui, it can work,” he said on a sigh. “I’ve made a few notes here for you. Add your own, and speak to Cassie – she has contacts who can do the work. Of course you’ll need quotes first.”

  He passed across the clipboard he’d been scribbling on, and their hands brushed. As much as she’d lied to herself about hoping it didn’t happen, she was elated when it did.

  “Cassie will require a business plan, so you’ll need to get started on that.”

  She nodded. She had already begun work on her business plan.

  “When will I see you again?” he asked quietly.

  She studied his face; he looked sad. Did she do that to him?

  “I’ll call you to organize a meeting for this weekend’s wedding.”

  “Non. No. I mean you and me. As a couple, not work.” The sadness overtook him again.

  She stood in silence considering her options. The thought of not having Philippe in her life was heartbreaking. She couldn’t let that happen.

  Melanie suddenly felt anticipation at spending quality time with Philippe.

  She stared up to the sky. “It’s a beautiful day. Perhaps we could have lunch in the park?”

  His smile lit up his face. “That would be magnifique. I will supply the food.”

  * * *

  Melanie was right, it was a beautiful day. In more ways th
an one. He’d worried after their evening together that she would pull back. And she had.

  Being confronted with a child who wasn’t your own, and the truth about the child’s mother, was enough to send any woman running.

  But Melanie was tough. He’d known that from the moment he met her. The first time.

  He’d liked her that first time too. Not that he’d spent a lot of time with her then. He was preparing the wedding reception, and she was Sierra’s bridesmaid. They were both busy.

  Even on that incredibly hectic day, he’d felt the connection.

  When she’d walked into his kitchen on her first day on the job, a thrill went through him. And to find out she would be working with him, coordinating on the events, that was even better.

  Right now he needed to concentrate on what he was doing – packing a picnic lunch. Melanie had agreed to go to the park with him.

  No. Melanie had suggested they go to the park. That was even better. His heart was soaring, and he felt it beating in his chest.

  He wandered around the kitchen choosing items for his picnic basket.

  The inn had a number of baskets on hand, as guests often ordered a filled picnic basket for their day trips.

  “Do you want me to do that, Chef?” Adam asked. “I didn’t know we’d had an order or I would have done it by now.”

  “Thank you, but no, Adam. I’ve got this.” He glanced up at Adam, a grin on his face.

  “You’ve got another hot date.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Adam cleared his throat. “It’s with that cute chicki-babe Melanie. Am I right?”

  Philippe stood to his full height, towering over Adam. “Do not disrespect Melanie. Do you understand,” he said, pushing a finger into Adam’s chest.

  Adam’s hands shot up and he stepped back. “Whoa. I was just stirring you up, Chef. I promise.”

  “That’s alright then.” He continued on his quest choosing items for his picnic basket.

  When he was done, he grabbed some cans of soda, adding them to the basket, and was on his way.

  Melanie was waiting out the front of the inn, lapping up the sun.

  Philippe leaned in and stole a kiss on her cheek when he arrived. A little cheeky, he knew, but after their dinner…perhaps he’d get away with it.