by Angelo, Judy
When Melanie’s face fell in disappointment, Sloane gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “He’ll come around soon. Just give him time to get used to you.”
“But what am I doing wrong?” She turned confused eyes up to him.
“Absolutely nothing. Just be patient. He’ll be bouncing up and down on your knee in no time.”
Melanie nodded but her tiny sigh and the slight droop of her mouth told Sloane that the toddler's lack of interest really hurt. He guessed she was feeling sensitive, especially because she so badly wanted a child of her own.
“Hey, Thierry looks ready to play.” He pointed to the brown-haired boy throwing a tennis ball up into the branches of a tree, intent on hitting the bird’s nest there.
Melanie looked doubtful. “Yeah, but he’s four. Do you think he’s into hugs and kisses?”
“Definitely not,” Jacqueline said with a laugh, “but he loves playing catch and D’Jean’s too young. Why don’t you try that?”
“Ookaay.” Melanie dragged the word, looking even more uncertain, but she got up from where she was kneeling on the rug in the kitchen, crossed the patio and went out onto the lawn where Thierry was peering up into the leaves. When he saw her his eyes lit up and he pointed to the object of his interest, chattering excitedly, probably explaining what he’d been doing. When Melanie shook her head his face fell and the bright smile was replaced with a pout. Then he stalked off, climbed onto his tricycle and rode away, leaving Melanie looking depressed.
“Well, that went well,” Jacqueline said as she stroked D’Jean’s head.
Sloane laughed. “She’ll recover, but I probably need to give her some moral support right now.” He was still chuckling as he walked out the kitchen door and headed toward where Melanie stood staring up at the now abandoned bird nest. “Rejected by two men in a row,” he said under his breath, of course not loud enough for her to hear. “That must hurt.”
Despite the rough start, as Sloane had predicted, D’Jean grew more relaxed around Melanie with each passing minute and within the hour they were playing ball out on the lawn. Of course, the game had them doing nothing more than sitting on the grass, facing each other, rolling a melon-sized ball back and forth. From time to time Thierry would ride over and regard them with obvious disdain. Still, Melanie had a wide smile on her face as she played with the toddler and D’Jean, he was chortling with glee.
When Jacqueline called them in for dinner forty minutes later it was a smiling Melanie who came in, holding a babbling boy in her arms. And after she’d cleaned him up and then strapped him into his high chair, he raised his hands up to her, clearly preferring to be in her arms than over in a chair all by himself.
“Aaw, he wants to sit on my lap,” she cooed, obviously pleased that he wanted to be with her. She looked over at Jacqueline. “May I?”
“Now, now. You have to be strong.” Jacqueline shook her head but she was smiling. “Don’t be fooled by that innocent look. If you have him in your lap while you’re eating, before you know it all your food will end up on the floor. Trust me. I speak from experience.”
Melanie seemed to accept that but she still looked wistfully back at D’Jean, obviously enamored by his cherubic charm.
“What did I miss?” They all looked up as Patrick came into the dining room holding a tub of ice cream in one hand and a cake box in the other.
“Sorry I’m late. The guys wouldn’t let me leave the soccer game.”
“They wouldn’t let you leave or you couldn’t tear yourself away?” Jacqueline gave him a teasing glare. “Anyway, you made it just in time. Leave those on the counter and go clean up.”
After apologizing again to his visitors, Patrick went off to the powder room then deposited his gangly frame in the chair at the head of the table. “Cool,” he said, grinning like a little kid. “Fried chicken and corn on the cob. Looks so good I could eat it all.”
Jacqueline rolled her eyes but the glow in her cheeks made it obvious that she was pleased with his praise.
After that they settled down to a delicious dinner, with the children entertaining them with their chatter and Patrick giving them a detailed account of his performance on the soccer field – a far more detailed account than they would have wished, so much so that Sloane eventually cut him off midstream.
“Yeah, so you want to hear about my day?” he asked as he dipped up a spoon of pistachio ice cream.
“No, not really,” Patrick sneered.
“Okay, then.” Sloane gave him a pointed look and Patrick’s sheepish grin said he got the point.
“Oh, shut up and eat your ice cream,” he muttered under his breath, a rebellious smile forming on his lips.
Thierry gasped and his eyes grew wide. “Mommy, Daddy said a bad word.”
“Daddy.” Jacqueline’s brows fell.
Patrick shook his head. “They don’t hear you when you tell them to pick up their toys,” he grumbled, “but they always hear what they’re not supposed to.”
Jacqueline gave him a stern look. “Apologize.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry, Thierry. Daddy didn’t mean to use naughty words, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy.” Thierry, looking suitably appeased, picked up his spoon and began eating again.
Melanie looked on, obviously amused by the antics of Patrick and his family, and then her eyes took on a faraway look that told Sloane she was busy daydreaming about her own future family, one that would have at least one child, probably more.
He was just about to reach over and touch her hand, just to let her know he was privy to her thoughts, when the doorbell rang.
Jacqueline and Patrick glanced at each other, their looks quizzical.
“Are we expecting someone?” Patrick asked.
“Not me,” Jacqueline said with a shrug then she started to rise. “I’ll go see-”
“No, I’ll get it.” Patrick put up a hand, stopping her, then he got up from around the table. He glanced over at Sloane and Melanie. “Excuse me a minute.”
A few seconds later they heard the sounds of laughter and one of the voices was a woman's.
“Hey, look who’s here.” Patrick came bounding into the dining room and close behind him was a woman, tall and dark-haired and sophisticated. “And just in time for dinner, too.”
Sloane felt a shock run through him. Zena. What was she doing here?
He kept his face passive as he stared at her even though he felt like he’d just been kicked in the gut. There, not six feet away, stood the first woman he’d ever made love to.
“Zena,” he said, as he rose to his feet. “This is a surprise. What brings you back to Montreal?" He kept his tone deliberately relaxed but inside he was anything but. Over a decade had passed since his last contact with Zena but he could have played back that final conversation word for word. “Get out of my life,” he’d told her. “You disgust me.”
But now she was back.
“Sloane, it’s been too long,” she gushed, ignoring his outstretched hand and stepping forward to embrace him. Then she leaned back to gaze up at him. “And you don’t look a day older than the last time I saw you. How do you men do it?” She gave a brassy laugh then stepped away and turned to Patrick and Jacqueline.
“For ‘Taboo’ we’re shooting a scene in Montreal. Can you imagine how thrilled I was when I heard we’d be in my hometown?” Her eyes flashed as she gave them a movie star-white smile. “So I decided to pay a surprise visit to my old school friends.”
“It’s a surprise, all right.” Jacqueline’s face said she didn’t quite know what to make of the sudden visit but then she masked it with a smile as she got up. “But it’s good to see you, Zena.” She waved her hand at an empty place at the table. “Have a seat. I’ll set a place for you.”
“No, no.” The unexpected guest lifted her perfectly manicured hands and shook her head. “I have to get back to the set by five. My limo’s waiting outside.” Then she gave a trilling laugh. “But I’ve been away so long, I c
ouldn’t be back in Montreal and not drop in on you guys. We were all best friends, remember? We were a team.”
“Yeah,” Patrick said, his tone nostalgic. “Those were the days.”
“Well, guys, it was good to lay eyes on you again but I’ve got to run. Doctor’s visit, you know.” Her eyes swept the table, over the children who she didn’t acknowledge then to Melanie, where her gaze paused. And then she glanced away, a tight smile on her lips. “Nice seeing you again, guys,” she said as she turned. “Sloane, why don’t you walk me to the door?”
Now what was Zena up to? She hadn’t acknowledged Melanie’s presence even though he was sure she knew who she was. They’d parted on less than amicable terms and now she wanted him to escort her out? She was definitely up to something.
He did walk her to the door, where she turned and gave him a sly smile. “It’s not over till it’s over,” she whispered, and then she was sashaying down the driveway to her waiting car.
Sloane frowned. He didn’t know what to make of that, but coming from Zena it was definitely a threat.
He closed the door and returned to the dining room where the others had already turned their attention back to their meal. All except Melanie. She was staring at him, her eyes huge in her face, her fingers clutching the napkin in her hand.
He could see the worry in her eyes and he knew that as soon as they got home that night he’d have some explaining to do.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Melanie was seething. How dare they? If Sloane had wanted to flirt with his ex he didn’t have to do it right in front of her face. The cad. And she knew exactly who the woman was. It was an older face, and a lot harder, but it was the same face she’d seen in the high school cafeteria when she’d been fourteen. It was the girl Sloane had been with that day she saw him from across the gym-sized room.
Obviously they’d been involved, and even more obvious, there was still something going on between them…even though he was now married to someone else.
With a huff, Melanie folded her arms across her chest and stared straight ahead, refusing to respond to Sloane’s questions. She was not going to speak to him and he could talk till he was blue, she would not give him the satisfaction of a response.
For the entire journey back to the house Melanie remained silent and when he pulled the car to a halt in front of the steps she flung the door open and hopped out before he could come around to help her. She didn’t want his conversation and she definitely didn’t want his help.
“Melanie.” He barked out her name as she flew up the steps and headed for the front door. “Wait.”
She whirled around to face him. “Why should I? So you can insult me some more? Throw your lover in my face?”
“You got it all wrong.” He was climbing the steps and coming toward her, the shadows of night hiding the expression on his face, but Melanie could guess he was looking smug.
“I don’t want to hear it,” she grated but by this time he was standing right in front of her and he was looking anything but smug. On his face was a scowl.
“Well, you’re going to hear it, whether you like it or not.” He reached behind her and unlocked the door then took her elbow in a grip from which she could not wrest her arm even if she tried. “You’re going to sit and you’re going to listen to what I have to say.”
Realizing resistance was futile, Melanie let him lead her across the foyer and toward the den where he deposited her on the sofa and sat down beside her.
“Listen to me, Melanie,” he said, his face stern. “I know what you’re thinking but you’re wrong. There’s absolutely nothing going on between Zena and me.”
She glared back at him, not believing a word. “No? So why was she giving you all kinds of googly eyes? And then you went to the door with her for some sort of secret conference.” She clenched her fists. “I heard you guys laughing out there. You didn’t even care that I could hear you.”
“That was Zena you heard, not me.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. You were there with her so you’re guilty by association. And why did you ask me to marry you, anyway, if you’re still in love with…Zena?” As she said the woman’s name her voice dripped with venom. She was working herself up into a state, she knew, but she didn’t care. The situation called for it.
To her surprise, Sloane reached out and covered her hand with his. “Look, I know you’re angry and not knowing the whole story, that’s understandable. All I ask is that you hear me out and then you can decide whether to be angry or not.”
Melanie bit her lip, dying to tell him to go to France – which was her way of saying go to hell – but how could she say no? He was calm and what he was asking was not unreasonable. If she refused she would simply be acting like a fool.
She heaved a sigh. “All right. But this had better be good.”
He nodded. “Zena was my first serious girlfriend back in high school then we went to college in two different countries. She went off to France and I stayed in Montreal so the relationship dissolved and we moved on. When she came back home we sort of picked up where we left off but we had issues.” He shrugged. “We had frequent arguments so our relationship was more like ‘on again, off again’. And then one day she said she’d had enough. We should either be together permanently or not at all. I thought, what the heck, and asked her to marry me. At the time I thought settling down would be the best cure for both of us.”
As she listened to his words, Melanie’s heart went still. He’d said ‘what the heck’ and then asked Zena to marry him? As casually as that? Was that how he saw marriage, as casual and insignificant? Was that how he saw their marriage?
He continued speaking, seeming not to notice her distress. “She agreed and we were engaged for about five months. And that was when things fell apart.”
That pulled her attention from her worries and back to his narrative. “You broke up again?”
“Worse than that,” he said, his tone bitter. “I dropped by her place and found her in bed with another man.”
Melanie gasped. “Good grief.”
He gave a hollow laugh. “Good grief is right. I didn’t say a word, just turned and marched right out of there. She ran after me but I told her I didn’t want her in my life. I told her,” he said, his mouth twisting with an ugly emotion, “that she disgusted me.”
Melanie didn’t know what to say to that so she only stared, watching the memory of the betrayal darkening his face.
“Outside of glimpses of her in the tabloids I haven’t had any communication with Zena since then, not until tonight.” He shook his head. “After what she did to me that day, I couldn’t trust her or any woman again.” His eyes were bleak as he stared straight ahead as if seeing the ghost of his past in the distance.
His words were not lost on Melanie. Trust, probably the most significant element in a relationship, and he couldn’t share that with any woman. This was important. She decided to venture a question. “You married me…but you don’t trust me?”
Sloane spared her a glance. “This is different. I know you’re not after love or money and the way you are, you're not going to be looking around for other men. You made it clear that all you want is a baby.” He shrugged and looked away again.
She decided to press him further. “I can see what I get out of this, but what about you? What do you get?”
“Stability. A family. I’m almost forty, Melanie. It’s about time.”
“And that’s all you want?”
His gaze swung back to her. “What else is there?” And then his face softened in a wry smile. “Except for a whole lot of good sex?”
With each word, Melanie’s heart slid lower and lower. She’d known what she was signing up for when she agreed to be Sloane’s wife but after weeks of living with him, stupid or not, she wanted more.
And the thing she now found she wanted most was the one thing it seemed he did not have in him to give…his love.
***
When
Melanie got up and walked away Sloane realized that had been the dumbest thing he could have said. What he wanted out of marriage was good sex? It was already understood, so what woman wanted to hear that?
He made to follow her but then decided against it. She probably needed some time alone and he could do with some time himself. He’d better gather his thoughts before he went after her and put his foot in it a second time.
The truth was, things were getting a whole lot more serious than just sex, but how could he tell her that? It would be more than dumb to say anything when he wasn’t even sure where his head was. So he’d begun to care for her, but that was normal when you’d been living with someone for weeks. But did he love her?
That was the question and he wasn’t sure he had the answer so, for now, he’d just say nothing.
With a grunt he got up and headed for the bedroom. He had a feeling he’d hurt Melanie with his thoughtless remark and he needed to do damage control before he had a weeping woman on his hands.
As expected, she was sitting in the middle of the bed, her arms wrapped around her tucked-up legs, her chin on her knees. She looked depressed but, thankfully, she wasn’t crying. He could deal with pretty much anything except tears.
Saying nothing, he went to sit on the bed beside her then pulled her into his arms.
Immediately, she sank into him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She seemed drained, too exhausted to speak, and he understood. Sometimes emotional trauma was more draining than the physical. Right now what Melanie needed was comfort and reassurance. Healing.
Sloane leaned down to kiss the top of her head and then he lifted his hand to softly stroke her hair. When she sighed and tucked in closer he tilted her face toward his and gave her a kiss that was gentle but firm, his small way of giving her the reassurance he knew she needed.
She clung to him like she would never let go. It was the emotions – the uncertainty, the sadness – coming to the surface. Right then she was at her most vulnerable.
Seeking to comfort her he leaned down, pressing her into the pillows, deepening the kiss when she moaned. When he finally released her lips and pulled away she reached for him, so he kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks, her collarbone and when she shivered he smiled and went lower still. He slid her top off and kissed her shoulders then his lips tickled her upper arms and the soft hollow by her elbow and she shifted in the bed, seeming anxious for his attention elsewhere.
