If he let her into his life...
If?
What if? he mocked silently. She was already there. If she wasn’t, he wouldn’t be standing here, staring at her doorbell, calling himself seven kinds of a fool for wanting to ring it.
“I haven’t got it fine-tuned for mind control yet. You still have to ring it yourself.”
The sound of her voice made him jump. Lance looked around, wondering if he’d imagining it, the way he’d been imagining her this past week.
“Up here.” Stepping back on the sidewalk. Lance saw her. She was leaning out of the second-floor window. Even in the dim illumination from the street lamp, he could see the amusement on her face. “I saw your car in the street.”
Mechanically he looked behind him. As if he didn’t know where his car was, he thought, annoyed with his lack of aplomb.
“I, um...”
Now what did he say? That he’d been thinking of her ever since Bess’s party last week? That he’d tried not to, but couldn’t seem to be able to weed her out of his thoughts?
He thought of his excuse. It was still lame, but it was all he had. “I came by to pay you.”
“Wait right there,” she told him.
Fairly flying down the stairs in her bare feet, Melanie made it to the ground floor in record time. She knew if she didn’t hurry, Lance might just leave as mysteriously as he had come. When she’d gone to the window to shut it and spotted him, he looked like a deer trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car. A deer that was going to bolt at any minute. It wasn’t a stretch for her to guess that he didn’t like being caught like this. Vulnerable.
She had no idea what payment he was referring to, but she didn’t care. Lance was here. After five days, she’d almost given up hope that he’d turn up. Almost.
Yanking open the door, she let go of the breath she was holding. He was still there, thank God, looking very much as if he doubted his own sanity. “Pay me for what?”
He dug his hands deep into his pockets. “For the photograph.” He headed off her protest before she had a chance to utter it. “I know you said you didn’t want to take any money, but I don’t feel as if I gave Bess the gift if I don’t pay you for it.”
It made perfectly logical sense. So why did he feel as if she could see right through it? As if she knew it was just an excuse to her as well as himself so he could see her again.
Melanie didn’t want his money. She’d given the photograph to him as a gift, which he’d been free to pass on to his aunt. It didn’t feel right, going back on the bargain.
“I told you, it’s priceless.”
Now that he’d given her the excuse, he wasn’t about to just shrug and walk away. She’d think him an idiot. Odds were she did, anyway, he thought, and she was probably right.
Lance remained impassive. “Come up with something.”
It’d be a lot easier if he just learned to graciously accept things. Melanie pressed her lips together, thinking. And then she smiled.
“All right. I said that you couldn’t put a price on it, but before people used money, they bartered for things.”
Lance didn’t like the light that had come into her eyes. He had a bad feeling about this. “You want me to barter?”
She rocked forward on her bare toes. “No, but I do have an offer to make you.”
He glanced down and saw that she wasn’t wearing any shoes. That would explain why she looked even smaller and more delicate. Exactly like one of those china dolls Bess used to collect, he thought.
A doll with a will of iron. “I’m listening,” he said slowly.
She opened the door wider, inviting him in. “If you really want to pay for the photograph, come upstairs with me now.”
He tried to second-guess her and failed. Just what was she asking for? “Why?”
Was he always so suspicious about everything? she wondered. Or was it just her he held suspect?
“I was just about to put Rebecca into my VCR. I’d rather watch movies with someone than by myself. You can keep me company.”
He’d come here wanting to be with her. But now that she was inviting him in, he hesitated, knowing what could happen if he crossed the threshold. He felt as if his self-control was just hanging by the barest of threads as it was.
“Well, I...”
“Got a hot date waiting?”
“No.”
He said it with such feeling, she almost laughed. Was a date really such an awful thing for him to contemplate? “Then you’re free.” She cocked her head, waiting. “That’s my price, take it or leave it.”
He stood there, debating, knowing he should be turning on his heel and walking toward his car if he had even the slightest use of his brain still available to him.
“I’ll take it,” he finally said.
She’d known he would. Well, at least ninety-three percent of her had known. But it was pretty much a sure thing. If it hadn’t been, he wouldn’t have shown up here to begin with. What Lance wanted was to be pushed in the right direction. Lucky for him, being covertly pushy was her specialty.
“Great.” Melanie linked her fingers with his and drew him inside. His expression was no longer dark, just wary. “Smile, Lance. It’s a movie, not an execution.”
He wasn’t so sure about that.
The apartment above her shop was warm and cozy. It suited her, he thought looking around. What surprised him was that it wasn’t an extension of the shop downstairs. There was no preponderance of autographed, framed photos on the walls, no clutter of movie memorabilia lying around on every flat surface in the room. It was all neat and tidy and pleasingly spacious.
“What happened?” He made himself comfortable on the gray-blue leather sofa. It went beyond comfort. He felt as if he was being embraced by an old friend. “This looks like a normal living room. Did you run out of movie material?”
“Not quite.” A grin played on her lips. “You’re sitting in the middle of the living room set from ‘Dad’s Home.”’ It was obvious from his expression that he didn’t know what she was talking about. “It was a popular sitcom that ran for seven seasons in the eighties.” She bent down in front of the VCR beneath the TV and inserted the tape. “This was their living room.”
He might have known. “How did it get to be your living room?”
“Not mine, Aunt Elaine’s.” She’d just inherited it. Setting the video cover aside on the table, she moved the remote closer to his side and rose. “It was the last show she worked on.” Melanie walked out to the kitchen. “The executive producer, who was also the star, had a soft spot in his heart for Aunt Elaine.” Her voice floated back to him. He heard the refrigerator door being opened, then closed. Juggling two cans of soda, napkins and a bowl of popcorn, Melanie reentered the room. “She’d kind of taken him under her wing when he was starting out—”
She was going to drop something. Why didn’t she just make two trips? That would be the logical thing to do. But he was beginning to learn that Melanie and logic did not belong in the same sentence. Getting up, Lance met her halfway and took the cans from her, setting them on the coffee table.
“What, did she show him how to dress?” It was a flippant remark, and he was surprised when Melanie actually validated it. But he shouldn’t have been. It was becoming apparent to him that the whole family was offbeat.
“Pretty much. David Matthews had no eye for style at all. She dressed him, advanced him a little money when he needed it and introduced him to a few people she knew, who in turn introduced him to a few others and so on.” Melanie placed the pile of napkins between them, setting the bowl down. “He never forgot what she did for him and, since she admired the set, when the show went off the air, he gave it to her as a gift.”
She said it as if it was the most natural thing in the world. As if everyone’s living room furniture came fresh off a movie lot. “Did your kitchen come courtesy of ‘Cooking with Julia Child?’”
She laughed. Well, at least he knew the name of one p
rogram. “No, but my bedroom is from 1,001 Arabian Nights.”
The grin on her face was infectious and tempting. He caught himself wanting to sample it firsthand. For his sake, he hoped the movie was going to be short.
“I had the greatest childhood a girl could possibly imagine.” She’d spent hours in her room, fantasizing. Being rescued by a dark, handsome warrior, whose face changed periodically, depending on who she had a crush on that week.
Melanie pushed the popcorn bowl in his direction. A few of the kernels bailed out onto the rug, and she bent over to pick them up. The pink-and-white top she was wearing hadn’t looked as if it was cut low until she bent over. The view he was treated to left him just a little weak.
Lance had to force himself to look away, but it wasn’t easy.
She dusted off her hands, then reached for the remote. “So, are you ready to pay up?”
Distracted, he blinked, trying to focus on what she was saying and not on how firm and ripe her breasts appeared to be. He felt his palms itch and dug them into the sofa on either side of him. Out of harm’s way.
“What?”
Oblivious to what she was doing to him, Melanie wiggled into the sofa to make herself comfortable.
“The movie.” Pointing the remote at the screen, she asked, “Are you ready to watch it? Rebecca is a real classic.”
He groaned as he shifted on the sofa. To her that sounded far from promising. “Does that mean I’m going to fall asleep?” he asked.
He obviously didn’t know anything about the movie, or that it was a mystery. Melanie curled up against the cushion, tucking her feet under her. There were few things she loved more than watching a good movie. “I doubt it.”
So did he, he decided, slanting a glance at her. People rarely fell asleep when they were as tense as he was.
Beautifully lettered credits inched their way dramatically up the screen as the background faded away. He’d eaten too much popcorn, Lance thought. But it had been a defensive move meant to keep his hands busy. And away from her.
Brushing a kernel casing from his hands, Lance could feel her eyes on him. She was waiting for him to say something.
“That wasn’t half-bad,” he said. In fact, he added silently, it’d been far more entertaining than he’d thought it would be.
“Not half-bad?” She supposed in his language he was giving it a five-star review, but it did deserve a little more than just a nonnegative comment. “It was wonderful.” Melanie aimed the remote in the general direction of the set and pressed Rewind. “Tell me, has anything ever gotten an unqualified, enthusiastic seal of approval from you?”
He couldn’t begin to think of the last time he’d been enthusiastic about something. Even his work. He did it to the best of his ability, but enthusiasm? That didn’t figure into it.
The only time he’d felt even the most remote stirring of enthusiasm was while he was kissing her.
“No,” he snapped.
The denial was almost physical in its force. Her guess was that he had and didn’t want to think about it or even admit it.
“How about Bess?” she asked.
“She’s a person, not a thing.” He shrugged, allowing her to stretch the definition. He would never deny having feelings for Bess. “And if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be sitting here, remember?”
The present, right. “I remember.” Looking at the table, she debated cleaning up and decided to leave it. There was time enough for that when he left. “So, only Bess? No one else?”
Was she fishing for a compliment? It didn’t seem like her, but then, just how much did he really know about this woman? “Should there be?”
Her answer caught him completely off guard. “Your father.”
The mild expression faded. “Don’t you start. I get enough of that from Bess.” And even she couldn’t get him to come around. What made McCloud think that she could persuade him?
Melanie raised her hands in innocent surrender. “I’m not starting.”
Yes, she was, but she figured now wasn’t the best time to admit that. In her heart she really believed that Lance needed more than just a cease-fire between him and Bruce. He needed his father back.
“All right, what would you call it?”
“Taking an interest in you.”
Lance already knew she was good at talking her way out of things, but it wasn’t going to work this time. He knew what she was trying to do, and he wanted her to stop.
“Well, don’t. Take up a hobby instead.” Lance gestured at the TV set just as the VCR stopped rewinding, retiring with a loud click. “Go watch another movie.”
It was the perfect out, but she didn’t want to back away from the subject. There came a time when you had to face things, when you had to risk a friend’s displeasure for their own good. For her, that time came now.
She placed her hand on his arm, silently imploring him to listen to reason. “You’re letting this eat at you and that’s not healthy. Your father wants to make up, Lance. He wants to get back into your life.”
“What, did he tell you that?” Had his father played on her sympathies last week? Had he painted himself as the wronged victim? Lance’s mouth hardened. “Did he ask you to act as go-between? I can’t believe—”
Her hands on both sides of his face, she made Lance look at her before he could continue with his denouncement.
“No, he didn’t,” Melanie said forcefully. “He didn’t say anything except that he was the one to blame for all this.”
Just the tiniest bit of his anger abated with the admission. “Well, he was right there.”
This wasn’t about right and wrong, she thought. It was about feelings. And until he could let go of the bad ones, he wouldn’t be free to allow the good ones to come. He wouldn’t be free to love anyone.
“All right, so if he admits that, why go on punishing him?” Her eyes searched his. “And yourself?”
How could she ask him just to forget everything? Forget that his father walked out on him when he needed him most?
Annoyed, he rose. He was halfway to the door before he swung around again, an accusing look in his eyes. “You above all people should understand. You can’t tell me that you didn’t wonder why your father walked out on you, that you didn’t spend sleepless nights thinking that maybe it was something you did or said that made him leave.” He drew a breath, letting it out slowly. The tension, the anger didn’t abate. “That there was something so damn bad about you that no one wanted to stick around, not even your own father.”
Oh, God, was that what he’d thought? Her heart ached for the pain he’d lived with as a child.
“Sometimes people do things that have nothing to do with anyone else. They don’t even realize that their action is hurting someone. They just know how much they’re hurting themselves.” She looked at him, hoping she was getting through on some level. “I think you have more in common with your father than you think.”
Because she’d come closer to the truth than he was willing to admit, Lance turned away and walked toward the door without saying anything. He didn’t trust himself to be rational, and once said, things couldn’t be taken back.
Melanie was in front of him in a heartbeat. She didn’t want him leaving this way. “You asked how I felt about my father not being there. All right, I’ll tell you.” Her eyes held his. “I knew it wasn’t anything I said or did, because he left before I was born. He left because of my very existence.” And it had hurt something awful, but she’d dealt with it and put it all behind her, neatly wrapped, so to speak. For his sake, she undid the carefully wrapped package. “My father didn’t even stay around to find out if I was a boy or girl, if I was healthy or not. If I needed anything. If my mother needed anything.”
That had hurt her the most, that this wonderful woman who was her mother had had her heart broken by someone she’d loved. Melanie took a breath, as if that helped hold the pain of the memory back somehow.
“Over the years he never eve
n tried to get in contact with me or my mother. He didn’t want to have any part of us.” She saw what she took to be pity in his eyes and accepted it the way it was meant. It heartened her that he could feel for her, or at least relate.
“I guess that’s why I loved Aunt Elaine’s world so much. One week I could pretend that Danny Thomas was my father, the next it was Brian Keith. It was always some warm, wonderful, father figure who was guaranteed to love me no matter what my faults were.” She shrugged. “Pretending helped.”
Maybe it’d helped her, but he saw it as just a crutch. “I don’t live in a world of make-believe, McCloud. I never did.”
All right, she would meet him on his level.
“Well, the reality is that if I could somehow find my father, I would. Not to ask him how he could have left me, but to ask him if he wanted to stay now. If he wanted to make the most of the time we have left.” She looked at him pointedly, wishing she knew how to get through to him. “You’re the lucky one. You don’t have to search for your father. He’s right there. And he wants to be your father again. I’d give anything to be in your shoes.” She caught his arm as he turned from her. “Yesterday’s gone, Lance. It’s a dream. All we have is today. Do something with it that you won’t regret down the road. There’ve been enough regrets, don’t you think?”
“I think you talk too much.” But the edge was gone from his voice.
“Maybe at times,” she admitted, her eyes on his. “Because I care.”
He still didn’t understand. After all, it wasn’t as if he’d made any effort to start something between them. Just the opposite was true.
“Why?”
She shook her head. She had no substantial answer to his question. It wasn’t a matter of solving an equation. It was just something that was.
“We don’t pick the people we care about, Lance. We just do.” She nodded toward the television set. There was news playing in the background now. “Are you up for another movie?”
“I’ve got an early day tomorrow.”
It was an excuse. He knew if he stayed any longer he wouldn’t be leaving at all tonight. And he wasn’t ready to take that step, no matter how much he wanted to. Not yet. Because with her, it wouldn’t be casual. Not for either of them. And he didn’t want her getting hurt.
One Plus One Makes Marriage Page 13
