by Ginny Aiken
Huge menus were spread before them. Water was delicately poured into fine crystal goblets; wine was offered, but Dave refused. “Unless you would like some?” he asked quickly.
“No, thank you. If you’ve dined here before, I’m going to depend on you to choose for me.”
Somehow it didn’t embarrass her to say that to him, for he seemed so accepting of her and she had really begun to feel comfortable with him.
He ordered a French dish that she interpreted as some kind of chicken. He handed the waiter the menu, smiled, then turned back to her.
“Tell me more about your family.” He looked genuinely interested and so she tried to capsule their varied natures. “My mother teaches in high school, as you already know, and my father is an accountant. Both are very sensible, down-to-earth people. I guess Taylor is more sensible than I want to admit,” she added slowly, speaking honestly to him.
“She’s been a great mom to her girls, not spoiling them too much or giving in to their every whim. And yet she is kind and patient with them. I admire that,” she added, hoping to assure him that she wasn’t jealous of Taylor. But of course she was. In fact, she had always been jealous of Taylor, for whom life seemed to come so easy during their teens.
“Your parents are still together,” he said, proving he had been listening. “So are mine. Most of my friends have stepparents and an assortment of family—you know, his, hers, ours. My parents will celebrate their thirtieth anniversary in July, and Alison wants to give them a party.”
She had to laugh. “Mom and Dad celebrated their thirtieth last February, and Taylor did give them a party. Well, I did too. This is amazing.”
“What?”
“I wouldn’t have thought that first night …” Her voice trailed, as she dropped her eyes to the gleaming silverware.
“I know what you mean. I wouldn’t have thought that first night we had so much in common. That is what you were going to say, right?”
She looked back at him, relieved to see that he wasn’t making fun. He was admitting he had been just as turned off by her as she was by him. She smiled. “I was tired and grumpy.”
“I was tired and rude,” he said, taking the brunt of their unpleasant first meeting.
“No, you weren’t,” she laughed. “You were tired; I was tired.”
They were both laughing as the waiter rolled up the salad cart and skillfully tossed their salad from a huge crystal bowl then expertly wielded his silver tongs, serving each of them a mixture of greens on a small crystal plate.
“Hey, it’s interesting that we picked up the same flight in New York,” he said, as his eyes roamed over her hair and settled on her gray eyes.
“Funny I didn’t see you,” she said, looking across at him.
“That’s because I was buried down into the seat, half asleep when most of the passengers boarded. Our paths might not have crossed if—”
“If I hadn’t jabbed you in the stomach with my bulky shoulder bag,” she finished for him.
“And I wasn’t planning to go out of the hotel for coffee this morning, but it was such a pretty day, I decided to take a quick stroll before the afternoon meeting.”
“Quite a coincidence,” she said, and then an important question moved to the forefront of her mind. Whether it was coincidence or romance, she already knew quite a bit about him, yet she didn’t know the most important thing.
“What do you do on weekends?” she asked, after she swallowed a bite of the tasty salad, enjoying the sweet delicate flavor of the dressing.
“If I told you I work most Saturdays, you’d probably think I was a workaholic.”
“Are you?” she asked honestly.
“In a way. But it’s been a tough year, and I try to do the best I can at whatever I undertake. I really like this company and want to stay with them.”
She nodded. That still didn’t answer her question.
“I manage to get in a little golf on Sunday, or go to the lake fishing with Dad.”
She dipped into her salad again, feeling her spirits sink. “So that’s how you spend Sundays?”
“Sunday afternoon, or I fish with Dad on Saturdays. We usually go to church on Sunday, then I go to my parents’ house and pig out on Mom’s Sunday dinners.”
She leaned back in her chair and breathed a deep sigh of relief.
“What?” He apparently sensed there was something meaningful in what he had told her, but he had not yet figured it out.
“I go to church too. We’re … a Christian family.”
“So are we,” he said, as though it were as natural as eating or breathing. “Oh, I get it.” His eyes lit up again. “You were wondering if I was a party guy?”
“I was wondering if you were a Christian,” she said seriously. “That’s very important to me. My … former boyfriend wasn’t, and we … well, it presented problems that we couldn’t resolve. You see, he didn’t believe in God. Neither did his family. It made a drastic difference in our values. I mean, he was a decent person, but—”
“I know what you’re saying. Of course, I live in what is sometimes referred to as the Bible Belt, and yet we have nonbelievers there, just like everywhere else. I dated a girl in college who flaunted her atheism on our third date. Our last date,” he added, shaking his head. “She was one of the prettiest girls in school, and I couldn’t see past the huge green eyes and outgoing personality. Then I learned the true meaning of that old phrase Mom had worn out when I was growing up.”
“Beauty is only skin deep?”
He laughed. “You’re amazing. You know what I’m going to say before I say it, Melanie.”
“My grandmother said the same thing to me, about beauty being only skin deep.”
“But you are beautiful,” he said quietly, his blue eyes sincere as he studied her face.
For a moment, the agony of sitting in the bleachers during the high school football games with Tracy, her best friend and mirror image, flashed into her mind. They would stare grudgingly at the long-legged majorette and bouncy cheerleaders and wish with all their hearts that they could trade places.
She hesitated for a moment then decided to tell him her true feelings. He was such a good listener that he seemed to pull the truth from her. “The truth is, when I was growing up, I was overweight, wore braces, and was quite plain compared to Taylor.”
“See, that’s the problem.”
“Excuse me?”
“‘Compared to Taylor,’ you said. No doubt you heard too many people make that comparison and drew the wrong conclusion.”
“I was compared to Taylor openly and often,” she admitted. “I always wondered why people didn’t realize how much it hurt when guys looked at me and said, ‘You are Taylor’s sister?’ in the tone of voice you would use if you were trying to figure out why someone had two heads. Or even worse, when Mom kept suggesting that I run track or play soccer or even basketball, which she knew I hated. What she wanted to ask me was why I didn’t try for size six clothes like Taylor and compete in beauty contests.”
“That must have been terrible,” he said, the blue eyes sad, his face serious as he focused on her completely.
Her eyes met his. “It was. And you know what I never told Mom and Dad? I didn’t want to be like Taylor. I preferred to work in Bible school with the little kids or take up a craft I could teach to the handicapped, something useful that made sense to me.”
He looked at her in amazement. “You were remarkably mature for a teenager.”
She shrugged. “Aside from that, I preferred to read stacks of books or see a play or a movie that really touched my heart. I didn’t care about being popular or going to all the parties. I guess it should have been more important to me,” she said, breathing a heavy sigh. “But I did what made me happy. And that didn’t always make my parents happy. Oh, they were happy about my grades, which were always better than my sister’s. But I was a loner and didn’t really mind it. They just never understood.”
“You we
re being Melanie Roberts,” he said, looking at her with admiration. She loved the sound of her name on his lips; she even liked the southern drawl, which was beginning to do strange things to her senses. She could almost smell the magnolias, and for a moment her romantic nature created a mental image of standing in a flower garden beneath a full moon with him.
And then he added the final words that truly stole her heart. “I admire your honesty and your courage.”
“Well, I can thank my grandmother for that. She and I were very much alike. In fact, I was named for her,” she continued, since he was so attentive. “She was Melinda Virginia. Kids started calling me Mel and I hated that, so Tracy, my best friend, and I had one of those very serious conversations over colas and chips.”
“One of those late-night girl chats?” he teased.
“Right. I decided I liked the name Melanie after I had read Gone With the Wind for the fourth time.”
“Melanie,” he nodded slowly. “It suits you.”
Then their attention was diverted by a flurry of silver-domed platters and a display of beautifully prepared chicken drizzled with an almond and mushroom sauce, complimented by a wonderful brown rice and lean spears of fresh asparagus and a skillfully designed fruit medley.
“You mentioned feeling that you were always being compared to your sister and that you always felt your mother wanted to change you,” Dave said. “It took courage to grow up in those circumstances. Some people get bitter and ugly about it, but you seem like such a sweet, nice person.”
“Thank you,” she responded. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment, still amazed by the way Dave really listened to what she had to say. He was not one of those guys who had to constantly talk about himself.
He had turned his attention to the meal, and she did the same, appreciating the opportunity of dining on such an elegant meal.
“How did your meeting go today?” she asked, wanting to be equally interested in subjects he enjoyed.
“It was long and boring, giving me an idea of what the week holds. Lengthy debates between one of the leading executives from our company and one from another company here, who has unlimited questions about our programs.”
Their server appeared refilling their water goblets as they worked their way through the meal.
“However,” he added slowly, “I’m afraid I’ll be forced to cancel a meeting or two.”
She looked startled. “Why?” She had no idea.
“Because I have met a wonderful woman that I want to get to know better, and I’ll be attending a hundred other meetings. But I won’t get to see Melanie Roberts and I won’t be in Paris with her.”
There was a touch of romance to his voice, and she was pleased and relieved that she would be seeing him again. She had not allowed her mind to stray beyond tonight, for she didn’t want to feel the ache of disappointment that she would surely feel when the time came to say good-bye to Dave Browning.
“And you don’t want to miss hearing all about my dysfunctional childhood!” she teased, arching an eyebrow and deliberately making light of the situation.
“I don’t want to miss hearing you talk about your life— whatever, however—and I don’t want to miss walking along the Seine in the moonlight. Which is exactly what I suggest we do now.”
She smiled. “Sounds like a good plan.”
They had waved aside the dessert menu and coffee, and the server had appeared with a thick leather case containing their bill, which she didn’t want to see. She knew their meal was very expensive, but Dave was generous and kind, and she didn’t know how to express her appreciation other than to say, “Thank you for dinner. I enjoyed every bite and I have thoroughly enjoyed your company.”
Her gaze took in the well-dressed people talking in quiet tones over the crisp linen tablecloths. Even the servers managed to deliver and retrieve silver in a way that muted the sound. One heard only the pleasant strands of classical music from somewhere in the background.
Chapter 3
Melanie and Dave had taken a taxi to a favorite spot for tourists to stroll over the Seine. Dave had removed the coat to his suit and placed it around her shoulders, as they walked hand in hand, staring at the glow of streetlights reflected in the Seine.
“It is so beautiful here,” she said dreamily, studying the way the lights sparkled on the water. “I see why it’s called the City of Lights.”
“I’m still amazed that we met,” Dave said, looking at her, rather than at the scene before them.
Melanie rolled her head lazily and looked at him. He was standing close to her, his arm around her shoulder. “So am I,” she replied gently.
He was looking into her eyes, as though trying to see to the depths of her soul. He wouldn’t have to. Melanie felt that her emotions were flashing in neon all over her face.
“Why did you choose this spring break to come to Paris?” he asked curiously.
“Because of my grandmother,” she answered. “I’m seeing the Seine by moonlight for her.” She took a deep breath and looked back at Dave, who hadn’t questioned her. It was as though he understood.
She began to talk about her grandmother, how special she had been in her life, and that led to the wish money, and the reason she was here.
“I hope you have the most wonderful vacation ever,” he said, squeezing her shoulder and smiling into her eyes. “I hope you will allow me to help make that possible. If I can,” he added gently.
Gripping the front of his coat with both hands, to keep it snug and warm around her, she thought about their meeting and how romantic and wonderful everything had been. “You can make it possible,” she said, admiring his modesty and a dozen other characteristics about him. “You know, you are a very thoughtful person, Dave. Are all southern gentlemen as kind and polite as you? I keep waiting for you to say ‘ma’am’ to me.”
He laughed. “No, they’re not all gentleman. They can be as disagreeable as men everywhere.”
“Then you have been raised well,” she said. Suddenly, she was beginning to feel like a teacher again, speaking to one of her students. “I noticed right off that you didn’t just come plop down at my table today. You waited for permission.”
“Well, that isn’t being a southern gentleman,” he said, tweaking her nose. “Most guys with half a brain would have waited in case you hated the sight of me.”
She laughed, daring not to comment for fear of how much she would reveal. “It goes back to being a southern gentlemen,” she insisted.
“Then I’ll take that as encouragement to ask you to go sightseeing with me tomorrow.”
Her heart jumped. It was as though she were spinning her own perfect dream. “What about your meetings?” she finally managed to ask though her tone was weak. Why was she reminding him? Now she was afraid he would start thinking more seriously and she didn’t want that.
“I know the topic that’s being covered. In fact, we’ve already been over it half a dozen times at the conference table in Atlanta. The competition is going to present their side, and we already know where they stand. I’ll just say I have a more important appointment.”
“Great. I’ll have my own tour guide since you’ve been here before.” She couldn’t resist the smile that spread over her face. She fought the impulse to reach up and plant a kiss on his cheek, which would be quite a departure from the old Melanie Roberts. But she really wanted to touch his cheek, trace the outline of his broad jaw with her finger.
He glanced at his watch and took her arm. “Did you know it’s ten o’clock in the evening in Atlanta?”
“What time does that make it here?”
He grinned. “Three o’clock in the morning.”
“You’re kidding!”
She couldn’t believe they had spent so much time together and that, for the first time in her life, she was out at this hour of the night—no, morning, she corrected herself. There were still couples out strolling together, and one was actually clenched in a tight embrace, kissing as tho
ugh they were the only couple in the world. This truly was a city of romance. Snuggling into Dave’s coat and against his side, as he gently wrapped his arm around her, she thought how wonderful and natural this felt.
Their footsteps echoed over the sidewalk as they walked underneath a streetlight, enveloping them in a soft golden halo. She simply could not believe this was happening to her. Then she remembered the Bible verses Granny had taught her about patience and the importance of understanding that God works things out by His calendar, not hers.
She wished the evening could go on and on, even though they were already getting into a taxi and all too soon they were back at her hotel. He paid the fare, and automatically their steps slowed as they approached the door of the hotel. It was as though he regretted leaving her as much as she did him. But she was beginning to feel the weariness of a very long day. “You must be exhausted,” she looked up at him.
“On the contrary,” he said, nodding at the doorman as they entered the brightly lit lobby. “I’m wide awake.”
He stopped in the lobby, and she realized that again he was being a gentleman. “Do you want me to walk you up to your room?”
She shook her head. “No, you need to get back to your hotel and get some rest.” Reluctantly, she removed the coat from her shoulders and handed it to him. “I’ll remember to bring a sweater the next time.”
“Tomorrow will be a pleasant spring day,” he said with only a trace of weariness in his voice. “Dress for comfort. And be sure to wear comfortable shoes.”
She nodded. Her comfortable thick-soled leather loafers were already laid out.
They hesitated for a moment longer, as though unable to tear their gazes from each other. Then she did what she had wanted to do earlier. She reached up and kissed him on the cheek, not caring what the concierge thought. They had probably seen much more passionate embraces at this hour in the hotel lobby.
