What rich guy raked their own yard? Cooked their own meals? Wore soft jeans and tight t-shirts? Ran around barefoot in the house?
Of course, this was small-town Louisiana where life was casual and unpretentious.
“Where are you originally from, Britt?” she asked now. “You sound West Coast, actually, now that I think of it.”
He wagged his eyebrows and dropped his soft, Louisiana accent. “You caught me. I spent a few years in Denver, but the south always tugs at my heart. The history and old homes. The drama and war stories, and Gone with the Wind.”
“Gone with the Wind? That’s my favorite book—favorite movie.”
“We have several things in common, Melody de Lyon.” And then Britt gave her a quick, sexy wink.
Melody stuck her hands under her thighs, willing herself not to blush. She was glad Britt hadn’t turned on the full overhead arsenal of lights that most chefs worked under.
“I have to confess,” Britt went on. “I like your accent. It’s soft, barely discernible at times, but you speak like a Southern gentlewoman.”
“My ancestors came straight from France to Louisiana in the nineteenth century, not by way of Acadia like the Cajuns did, settling in the swamps. College sort of toned it down. And living in New Orleans, too, which is very metropolitan. I’m mostly talking to modern immigrants or visitors from other places during my days in the bookstore. You should hear Granny Mirry. It’s thicker, but she was also educated in San Francisco. She knows how to turn it on and off as needed.”
“Ha! So that’s the trick.”
“Many Cajuns have perfected the art, too. Folks outside of Louisiana would never suspect.”
Britt gazed into her eyes with a look that made Melody shiver. “What’s that for?”
“You pulled a fast one on me,” he teased. “You never answered my question, just changed the subject.”
He was right, of course. She was avoiding the topic of his relationship with Crystal, whatever that looked like.
“I still don’t know if Crystal’s change of heart means she truly loves me or what the ring represents. Did she talk to you about it?”
Melody bit at her lower lip and Britt’s eyes followed the gesture, his eyes lingering on her mouth. Feeling out of breath from his nearness, she tried to choose her words carefully. “’Course we talked. We’re sisters. But I’m sorry, I can’t tell you what she said. It wouldn’t be right of me. You need to figure out what Crystal’s true motives are.”
“We talked for five hours all through dinner and I’m still in the dark. Serious conversations were never Crystal’s forte.”
“I’m sure this isn’t easy for you.” Melody rinsed her dishes in the sink and he immediately came over and briefly laid a hand on her arm to stop her.
“Hey, I’ll do those. I have a super-duper automatic dishwasher. Besides, you’re a guest.”
“No, no, no, I’m an unwanted guest, Mr. You’ve Been Cooking And Cleaning For Me. I need to earn my keep.”
“You already have. You’re great company.”
“So are you,” Melody said softly. “Now I need to get to bed before the sun rises. Thank you for dinner.”
“You’re welcome, but we all have to eat, right?”
He switched off the kitchen light and they ascended the staircase using the soft glow of nightlights to maneuver the steps.
When they reached the main hall, Melody turned. “I think my presence has spoiled your time with Crystal.”
“Don’t forget, she was gone before you arrived. With my ring and a ‘no’ on her lips, although she wouldn’t admit it to my face. Any last piece of advice?”
Melody looked at him steadily. “Force her to talk to you. Don’t let her off the hook or she’ll dangle you on that fishing line forever.”
“Wise words. Do you fish, Miss Melody?”
She laughed. “Never learned, but I eat crawfish étouffée with the best of them.”
“One of my favorite dishes. I’ll take you to my favorite Cajun restaurant one of these days.”
Melody waved away his words, emotion tugging at her throat. “Don’t you know the code?”
Confusion crossed his features. “Tell me—what’s the code?”
“Even if you and Crystal don’t make it together, you and I can’t be friends. She would never forgive me.” Melody barely got the words out before turning away from Britt and running lightly up the stairs to her bedroom.
Once inside, she closed the door softly and flung herself onto the bed, her eyes prickly with emotion and longing.
Crystal had only come back because Britt had money. She was teasing him, using him. What kind of wife was she going to be, living most of the time in New York? Never sharing her husband’s dreams and goals and life.
Despite Britt’s millions, or billions, he and her sister were worlds apart. Why did he have to be Crystal’s man? If it was some other woman who had her hooks into Britt Mandeville, she’d have no qualms about flirting or pursuing the man.
“The sooner I forget about him, the better,” she said, climbing into bed and snapping off the light.
Her mind spun from the conversation with her sister, and then her unexpected meal in the kitchen with Britt. Bunching the pillow under her cheek, she closed her eyes and relived the moments he had gazed at her and touched her hand. The sound of his deep, melodic voice was enough to make her swoon.
Was the man just naturally charismatic, or was he merely a flirt with any female within close range? Did he feel the vibes between them, too? Maybe it was all her own imagination and he was just a gracious host and a sincerely kind person.
If he was, then he was exactly the kind of man she’d been looking for her whole life.
Only to be snatched away by the one person Melody never saw coming.
Chapter 16
Melody tossed and turned, Crystal’s little midnight talk replaying in her head like an old stuck vinyl record. Mirry had stacks of them in the attic and when Melody was a teenager she used to sit up there and play Frank Sinatra or Bing Crosby with a few Beatles and Elvis thrown in the mix.
Melody finally fell into a deep sleep only to wake at dawn. A rooster was crowing and tiny beams of pink sunrise began peeking through the gigantic oaks.
All night long something had been nagging at her brain. Any successful businessman could buy a big-ole diamond for the woman he loved, but Britt as a billionaire was a whole new level of outrageous wealth.
Had Crystal come up to warn Melody away—or just to show off and brag?
There was only one way to find out.
Melody showered quickly and pulled on her jeans. Her sneakers were still damp. She should have stuck them outside to dry, except there hadn’t been a whole lot of sun yet. Hopefully the clouds would break up today and she could be on her way to New Orleans to assess the damage of her life.
Her love life had been pretty pathetic to begin with, and now that she had met Britt, there was no more neutral.
A noise came from the hallway and Melody cracked open the door to see Crystal bumping her suitcase down the staircase. It was true, then, that her sister was off to catch an early morning flight to New York.
Had the other things she’d said been true?
Waiting for the front door to close behind her sister, Melody counted to one hundred.
No sign of Crystal returning. No sign of Britt appearing to say goodbye. They must have said their goodbyes after dinner last night. But it wasn’t a positive sign that Britt wouldn’t have dragged himself out of bed to kiss his fiancée one last time. At least not a positive sign for their relationship?
Melody descended the stairs to crack open the front door. The red taillights of Crystal’s car glowed in the dusky light. The engine revved and she gunned the gas pedal, spitting rocks as she peeled out of the long lane to the eastern road that led to Baton Rouge.
“Annoyed much, sis?” Melody muttered. “That makes two of us.”
Stepping onto the porch,
she rubbed her arms against the chill of the morning. The storm clouds were breaking up and turning into puffy white cotton balls that tumbled across the sky. She’d have to watch the news this morning to see what the roads were like back into New Orleans.
Meanwhile, she planned to do a few minutes of sleuthing, starting with the barns. Or sheds. Or whatever Britt called them to hide their true contents.
Crystal may have been exaggerating everything just to get under Melody’s skin.
Striding through the gardens, Melody crossed the expanse of lawns, emerald and dewy as the blades of grass glistened under the morning sun.
The two-hundred-year-old oak trees spread their massive, gnarly branches in a wide umbrella, shading the property.
Beyond the swimming pool lay a set of low-roofed buildings with sliding garage doors. Taking a peek over her shoulder at the dark house, she hurried to the side doors and let herself in, her heart thudding as if she were a burglar.
Stacks of boxes were in the first garage, the second had more boxes, as well as an array of bicycles of all sizes. Guests could probably go for a ride on the country lanes or along the Mississippi if they had a mind to.
The third garage was dark and Melody fumbled for the light switch on the wall. When she flicked it on, she let out a gasp.
A gleaming midnight blue Maserati was sitting in the center of the room.
“Oh, wow,” Melody breathed, running a hand along the car where the metal was satiny smooth. “Now that is quite a car!”
And well over a hundred grand, maybe even two if it was a sports model.
She breathed in the new car smell, wishing she could open the locked doors and sit at the wheel. What a dream.
There was another garage and Melody wasted no time in undoing the simple hinge lock and opening the door.
Crystal wasn’t lying. A cherry-red Ferrari sitting inside literally took her breath away. The car of every boy’s dream—and their girlfriends.
She sagged against the door.
Melody circled the sports car, lightly touching the perfect finish. She tried the door and found it unlocked. Did she dare?
Surreptitiously glancing over her shoulder, Melody slipped into the driver’s seat. The plush leather was perfect, fitting her like a glove.
“Keys?” she said with a chuckle. No, there wasn’t a set of keys in the ignition.
She leaned into the seat, stroking the dash and the stick shift, tapping the brakes, and turning the wheel. She pretended she was driving along a winding Italian country lane, villas and grape vineyards in the distance.
Closing her eyes, she conjured up the image of Britt sitting beside her, elbow perched on the open window ledge while warm, spicy air slid like silk over her skin.
In an hour, they’d stop for lunch at a little café and order linguini with soft oven-baked breads and spumoni for dessert.
“So how much does a Ferrari go for these days?” she wondered aloud.
“Almost two hundred thousand US dollars,” a male voice said in her ear.
“Ohh!” Melody screamed, jumping so high in her seat her head banged against the ceiling. “Ouch!”
Britt was standing next to her, one hand resting on top of the car door while he leaned down to give her a Cheshire-cat grin.
“You scared me!” she accused him.
“I had to make sure you weren’t a burglar preparing to drive off in my new car.”
“You knew I wasn’t a burglar.”
“You’re right, but I thought perhaps you heard me come into the garage.”
“It’s practically sound proof sitting inside. Plus,” she added, her heart whacking against her ribs from the adrenaline, “I was sort of daydreaming.”
“Daydreaming is good,” he agreed. “Everybody should have a good daydream now and then.”
Why did his voice send her soul to the moon? Why was he looking at her with such significance, as though he was sure she had been daydreaming about him.
“I’m sorry I’m sitting in your car. Your terribly expensive car. I shouldn’t have touched it. You’re probably furious with me.”
“Just the opposite. I think you look good sitting here. You reminded me of a happy teen whose dream has just come true.”
“A teenager. Oh, good.”
“Hey, I meant that as a compliment.”
Melody arched an eyebrow at him quizzically. “I guess I’ll just have to trust you.”
“You already do. The question is, can I trust you?”
“Okay, now I’m mortified. Scoot aside and let me out. I promise never to come out here again and sit in your red luxury sports car.”
“Stay where you are, Miss de Lyon. I’m getting in on the other side.”
“What? Why?”
Before Melody couple protest again, Britt slid into the passenger seat and handed her the keys.
“You’re kidding me.”
“There’s the ignition. Start her up. With the hurricane, I haven’t been out in a week or two. Gotta keep her running smooth.”
“But I might crash it. There’s no way you should trust me to drive your car.”
“Do you normally crash cars every time you drive one?” he asked.
She laughed. “Of course not. I’ve never crashed a car in my life.”
“Then I trust you.”
Britt pressed a button on a remote and the front doors of the garage slowly opened. “You can pull straight forward, no backing up.”
“This is just bizarre,” Melody said, the purr of the engine like a fantasy come true.
“This is pretty fun at six thirty in the morning. I always think about driving the Ferrari at this time of day.”
“You are silly. And you’re in much too good of a mood for a man whose fiancée just left for New York for the next several weeks.”
“I’m still not sure if she’s my fiancée. But I spent quite a bit of time thinking last night after we talked.”
“Thinking can be dangerous,” Melody warned playfully as she slowly pulled forward, leaning into the steering wheel so she could see over the hood of the car.
Sunlight glittered off the cherry color, sparkling like a pitcher of Kool-Aid and ice cubes.
“Turn left toward the mansion drive. Straight ahead a hundred yards and then left around this curve,” Britt instructed.
“The car drives like I’m in a James Bond movie,” Melody said, excitement bubbling up her throat.
“I read between the lines last night.”
“What lines?”
“Yours, Melody,” he said gently. “And you’ve just proved my theory right.”
“How did I do that? I haven’t said a word about Crystal or wedding dates or diamond rings, or anything this morning! My mouth is shut forever.”
“You didn’t have to say anything else. After I went to bed. I figured out why Crystal came back so quickly. She’s convinced herself that she doesn’t have to live here at all. That she can have her cake and eat it, too.”
“That sounds like my sister all right.”
“Finding you in my car this morning proves it all.”
“Are you a detective in your spare time, Mr. Mandeville?” Melody asked indignantly.
“No,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “But I can put two and two together and get a perfect four. You wouldn’t have come out here looking for my vehicles if Crystal hadn’t told you about them.”
“Oh.” She had played right into his hands, even if she hadn’t told him a thing about hers and Crystal’s conversation. “Now I’m more than embarrassed. I can’t show my face again.”
“That’s ridiculous. I love that I found you out here sitting in my car. Saves me from looking like a braggart when I showed it off.”
“I’m so glad I could be of service then,” Melody told him, pretending indignation.
He chuckled in that warm, deep voice. “You’re cute when you’re pretending to be mad.”
“Wrong adjective, mister. No woman wants
to be called cute. That’s for teenage girls and plush toys.”
“I should have clarified. Your personality is cute. But you are one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.”
“Ha!” Melody gave him a withering stare. “Crystal is the stunning model. The sister who turns heads.”
“That’s true, but looks only last so long in a real relationship. Deeper friendships and romantic relationships need compatibility, mutual goals and respect, humor and laughter. As well as attraction.”
Melody almost choked at hearing those words come out of a man’s mouth. “Are you for real?”
“I’m real. It’s the car that’s a dream.”
Melody swatted him with her hand. “You are incorrigible.”
“Eyes on the road, please. If you take the next right that will lead us along the back road of the property back to the garages. I don’t think we should take a longer road trip without having breakfast first.”
“Aye, aye, captain.”
Melody did as Britt instructed and pulled the Ferrari back into the empty garage. She put the gear shift into park and then turned off the motor, handing the keys back over.
He caught the keys and her fingers in his hand, not letting go.
“Did I do something wrong?” Melody asked, trying not to faint at the feel of his hand around hers, firm and warm and utterly sensual.
Holding hands with Vince had never felt like this before. Her pulse was in her throat. Her mind became dizzy with his nearness and the spicy scent of his skin, the entire essence of this remarkable man.
“You haven’t done a single thing wrong,” he said softly. “You keep doing so many things very, very right. I want to know you better, Melody. All of you. Every part of you. You have a curious mind, a sensitive soul, and a giving nature. You and Crystal are so very, very different.”
“Britt—I—I—”
Before she could get her thoughts out, Britt was suddenly in her line of vision, leaning close and gently cupping her head with his free hand to bring Melody toward him. He pressed his lips against hers in the gentlest of kisses. His lips were soft and so much more delicious than she had imagined. Which Melody shouldn’t have been doing. Daydreaming about her sister’s fiancé was not good. Not right. Not right at all—
The Owner's Secret (A Secret Billionaire Romance Book 4) Page 11
