Heart's Reward

by Donna Hill

  “There you are. We were getting worried. I was just telling Claude that if you didn’t show up in the next two minutes I was coming out to look for you.”

  Melanie froze. Her nieces and nephew crowded the doorway. Claude stepped out behind her brother. She was mortified.

  “I really have to get out of these wet clothes. Then I can talk.” She gave Claude a brief smile and it took every ounce of willpower not to run like a rabbit chased by a fox up to her room.

  Once behind closed doors she fought back a scream of disbelief. What in the world was Claude doing here? She was going to have a serious talk with her brother. She headed for the bathroom, turned the shower on full blast and peeled out of her dripping wet clothes.

  Thunder erupted like dynamite in the sky, rattling the windows. The lights flickered for a moment then settled.

  As she stood under the steaming water she wondered what she could possibly say to her brother: Don’t bring Claude here without telling me so that I can be presentable because I have a thing for him, I think?

  She held her face up to the water. Of course that was out of the question and ridiculous. Claude was Alan’s longtime friend. Both of them were in town and it stood to reason that they would hang out together. In addition to which, this was where Alan’s family could always be found.

  She sighed, gave her body another lathering then turned off the water. Wrapped in towels, she walked barefoot back into her bedroom. What she wanted to do was curl up under her comforter, sip on a glass of brandy and watch a Criminal Minds marathon. None of which she could do without seeming totally rude. Instead she blow dried her hair, lotioned her body and put on a casually fabulous outfit in a silver-toned cotton-knit jersey fabric. The lounging pants and top flowed softly against her skin. Slippers for her feet and a dash of her favorite perfume behind each ear and she was ready. She took a last look in the mirror, then joined her family and guest downstairs.

  When she entered the room, Claude was in an animated conversation with Alan about the New York Knicks’ latest game. Her nieces and nephew were gone. Heads turned in her direction. Claude stood.

  Melanie crossed the room toward him. She extended her hand. “I see my brother has managed to get you all the way out here again and in the middle of a storm no less,” she said good-naturedly.

  He took her hand and held it. “When a black SUV with tinted windows pulls up in front of your door and a voice from deep in the recesses of the interior says ‘get in,’ you get in.” He chuckled.

  “You make it sound sinister,” Alan said while he fixed himself a drink at the bar.

  “My brother has always fancied himself a spy,” Melanie said in a moderately bad attempt at a British accent. “That’s why he works at the State Department and no one really knows what he does.”

  “Very funny.” Alan took a sip of his drink.

  The lights flickered.

  Melanie moaned. “Not a good sign.”

  “Do you get power outages up here a lot?” Claude asked.

  “If we have really bad electrical storms we have been known to lose power for a few minutes or a day or two. Fortunately for us, and most of the town, we have a backup generator. So the problem isn’t so much with the homes but getting in and out of town. No lights and the inevitable flooding.”

  Claude hummed deep in his throat.

  “My brother is a lousy host, always has been. Can we get you something to eat, drink?”

  “No, I’m fine, thanks.”

  “Evan should be fixing dinner. But just let me know if you want something beforehand.” She turned to her brother. “Were you planning to stay for dinner?”

  Before he could answer, the sky lit up and the inside of the house was swathed in darkness.

  “The generator should kick in in a minute if the lights don’t come back on,” Alan offered.

  Several moments passed. Voices of concern coming from the hallway drew closer.

  “Hey, what’s going on with the power?” Vincent asked from the other end of a flashlight. His sister was right behind him.

  “The generator should be on by now,” Veronica complained.

  “Hey where is everybody?” Jessica yelled from the basement, her voice coming closer as she bounded up the stairs.

  “We’re in here,” Vincent replied.

  Jessica, a bit breathless, joined the group just as another bolt of lightning provided the only other illumination.

  Alan walked to the window. “This is a bad one. No lights on the entire shore.”

  “What?” the group chorused in disbelief and joined Alan at the window.

  Veronica picked up the phone and brought it to her ear. “Dead.”

  “What about your cell, Alan?” Melanie asked.

  He took his BlackBerry out of his pocket.

  “Weak but usable. Government has to be good for something.” He put it back in his pocket.

  Evan entered the room bearing a tray of lighted candles. “I found the hurricane lamps in the cabinets.” He set the lamps down, then placed the lighted candles on the tables and shelves around the room.

  “Thanks, Evan,” Melanie said.

  “Fortunately I’d already finished dinner when the lights went out. Should I bring everything in here or should I set up in the dining room?”

  Melanie moved away from the window. “In here is fine.”

  He nodded and walked out.

  “Guess we can pretend we’re camping,” Jessica offered, “like when we were kids.”

  Veronica and Vincent laughed. “Oh, you mean the times that you used to cry because you were scared of the dark?” Vincent taunted.

  “No, I was thinking of the time that you got chased around by a bee all day and it finally bit you on the nose, which blew it up to five times its normal size. And Cheryl Adams wouldn’t speak to you for a week. That’s more like the time I was talking about,” Jessica replied with deadpan sarcasm.

  Veronica whooped with laughter. “I remember! You were a mess.”

  “I’m gonna call my wife,” Vincent said. “Someone loves me.” He walked over to the corner near the window and took out his phone. Shortly he was in conversation with his wife, assuring her that if at all possible he would get home.

  “From the look of it out there, you’re going to have to camp out here today, buddy,” Alan said to Claude.

  “The rain isn’t letting up.”

  “You really think so?” His shadow lengthened and shortened in the candle light.

  “If nothing else it’s too dangerous to drive in weather like this. The chances of flash flooding are almost certain and it’s pitch black outside,” Melanie said. “We have plenty of room. Don’t even worry about it.”

  Claude inhaled slowly then shrugged. “The locals know best,” he conceded, knowing that he had no qualms whatsoever of spending the night under the same roof as Melanie Harte.

  Evan rolled the food cart into the room and began setting out dinner on the long serving table that braced the wall. The silver covered trays couldn’t contain the mouth-watering aroma that wafted from under the lids.

  Braised baby lamb chops in Evan’s special sauce, saffron rice, a mixed greens salad, fresh string beans and fingerling potatoes.

  “Enjoy,” Evan said before leaving the room.

  “I’m going to check the generator. It should have kicked in by now.”

  Melanie put a gentle hand on Vincent’s shoulder. “It can wait. Sit down and eat first. The generator will either come on or it won’t.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes,” she smiled. “It’ll be fine. Everyone help yourself.” She found herself standing behind Claude on the short buffet line. In the semi-darkness she could satisfy her longing to see him without being seen. She felt small in his presence—not tiny or overpowered but rather enveloped. His solid broad back called out to be touched and measured by experienced fingers. The back view was equally as stimulating as the front as her eyes drifted down below the leather belt.
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  “Can I fix your plate?”

  The question jolted her from her sensual meandering. She looked up and he was staring at her and she could make out the hint of a curious smile. Her throat was dry and couldn’t put the pieces of a sentence together for a moment. She cleared her throat and her naughty thoughts. “Hum, sure. I’ll have what you’re having,” she said, her wit returning just in time.

  Claude picked up a plate and began placing the food on it. He handed it to Melanie before filling his own. They walked together to the window and sat on the padded bench, watching nature have its way as they ate.

  “It’s really quite humbling to watch this display,” he said thoughtfully, as the waves crashed against the shore, their fury spewing out in rabid foam.

  “It reminds us of what a small part we play in the grand scheme of things. Sometimes, as much as we may want to rail against ‘the forces,’ all we can do is stand back and let things happen the way that they should,” Melanie replied.

  He cut part of his chop and chewed slowly. His dark eyes picked up the flickering lights of the candles and reflected back as he observed her. “You surprise me.”

  “How is that?”

  “I don’t know if I would have expected such a philosophical statement from you. I imagined you to be more pragmatic, rational, straightforward.”

  “Because I run a business?” she asked, curious as to his reasoning.

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “True this is a business, but it’s about people and feelings. Beyond all the high-tech stuff that we do, we have to be sensitive, see beyond all the analytical profiles. What we do is about happiness. There’s nothing rational about that.”

  “You’re absolutely right.” His gaze settled on her for a moment. She shifted in her seat. “How long have you been involved in the business?”

  She told him of her indoctrination by her grandmother and mother a decade ago. “I started this thing never thinking that I would stay or that I would love it as much as I do. There’s nothing compared to seeing the joy on the faces of the couples we match up.”

  “What about you?”

  She reached for her glass of wine. Her hand shook ever so slightly and she was grateful for the low light.

  “I’m sorry—that’s really none of my business.”

  “No. It’s fine. It’s not the first time someone has asked—indirectly—how I can run a matchmaking service and not have a love life of my own.” She drew in a breath to settle herself inside.

  “I was married once,” she began. “His name was Steven. We had three glorious years together before he died. Heart attack at thirty-five.” She shook her head in the same manner of disbelief she felt ten years ago. “Perfectly healthy. Went for a run…and…” She looked away as the memories rushed toward her on the crests of the waves, unstoppable. Her chest concaved, hit by the force of the memory of that day.

  Claude took the vibrating glass from her hand and set it on the sill. “I’m sorry. I had no idea,” he said softly. His hand covered hers and gently squeezed it.

  She blinked several times and willed the air to move through her lungs. All of her emotions seemed to have risen to the surface these past few days. It left her feeling vulnerable and not in control of her life, a place that she didn’t want to be in. After losing Steven she’d vowed that she wouldn’t allow herself to ever be the victim of anything she didn’t have a hand in. So far she’d won. Until recently. Her outlook when it came to the couples they matched was one thing—her personal life was different. At least that’s what she told herself.

  “No need to apologize,” she said, finding her voice. She forced a smile. “We didn’t get much of a chance to talk after your interview,” she said, switching the topic from her to him. “I hope it wasn’t too awful.”

  He laughed and she enjoyed the sound.

  “It was definitely thorough. I think that they found out things about me that I didn’t know myself.”

  “What did you discover?”

  He leaned back against the frame of the window and angled his head slightly to the side. “Hmm, well for all the public work that I do and interacting with countless people, I’m really a bit of a homebody.” He chuckled. “Seems like my perfect evening is a night at home in front of some roaring fire, with my soul mate resting across my lap while I read to her from her favorite novel.”

  Melanie saw her head resting on his lap as he stroked her hair and his deep, smooth voice brought the pages of Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises to life. Dream on girl. “I think that’s a great image.”

  “Do you?”

  His gaze was so personal that it took the simple question to that place in her soul she didn’t want to address. Especially not with him.

  “Aunt Mel.”

  Vincent’s approach saved her from making a fool of herself. She turned toward him.

  “I checked out the generator. Looks like a bad fuse. We won’t be getting any power from it any time soon.”

  “Thank for checking, sweetie. We’ll have to call the company in the morning.”

  “I already called. Left a message, so hopefully we’ll get a call back first thing in the morning.”

  “Nothing we can do about it until then except get comfortable for the night. Thanks,” she said again. Vincent nodded and returned to the buffet. She blew out a breath of frustration before turning to Claude. “Looks like you’ll be spending the night.”

  “It’s getting to be a better idea every minute.”

  A flutter like butterfly wings stirred her deep and low. Her ears burned. “Whenever you’re ready I can…get someone to show you your room. It will be at the top of the stairs to your left. And—”

  “What do you like to read?” he asked, effectively throwing her off balance.

  “What?”

  “There are books everywhere in the house, at least the parts that I’ve seen. So, what are your favorites?”

  She lowered her head and laughed lightly before daring to look back at him. “I have quite a few actually, depending on my mood. I helped my mother and grandmother build the library, so the collection is quite eclectic.”

  “I can tell that from what I’ve seen. But you didn’t really answer my question.”

  “Hmm, well, I love the pace of a good mystery. James Patterson and Patricia Cornwell. I’ve finally been able to get my head wrapped around Toni Morrison and I will always love work from the masters, Hemingway, Baldwin, Marquez, Ellison, Dumas.” She shrugged lightly. “And of course, being a provocateur of romance, a steamy romance novel is always nearby.”

  “Of course. Can I refill your drink?”

  “I should be asking you that. I’m being a terrible hostess.” She hopped down from the sill. “What are you drinking?”

  “Wine is fine.”

  “Sure you don’t want something stronger?”

  His eyes ran down her body for a hot second. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  She didn’t dare respond, at least not to that statement. “I’ll be right back.”

  “You two seem to be getting along rather well,” Alan commented under his breath, sidling up to her next to the bar. He refilled his drink.

  Her head jerked up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He held up his hand in defense. “It’s not supposed to mean anything. Just an observation. Relax, sis.”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry. This whole blackout thing has me off balance.”

  He draped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “You off balance? Come on, be for real. You always have everything under control.”

  “Yeah, I do, don’t I?” she said with little conviction. It certainly didn’t feel like it.

  Chapter 6

  Evan came into the room and began removing the dishes and dinner trays.

  “Let me help with that,” Melanie said, putting down the bottle of wine to stack some of the dishes on the rolling cart.

  “You’re not going t
o try to get home tonight, are you Evan?” Alan stated more than asked.

  “No, I’m going to stay.”

  “Good.” Melanie patted his shoulder. “And don’t even think about trying to clean up the kitchen in the dark. I know how you are.”

  “I guess it can wait, but you know how I hate a messy kitchen.”

  “Tonight is an exception.”

  He blew out a breath of resignation. “Just this one time.” He pushed the loaded cart out of the door to the kitchen.

  Melanie finished fixing the two glasses of wine and was about to return to her spot by the window.

  “I think he likes you.”

  “Who?”

  “Who do you think?”

  She glanced a look in Claude’s direction. His body was silhouetted in stark relief against the pane of the window. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s a client and I’m being hospitable. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “Okay,” Alan said and she could almost hear the smirk in his voice.

  Did she give off a vibe that she wasn’t aware of? Or was her brother doing to her what he’d been doing since they were kids—messing with her head? That had to be it.

  She returned with the drinks and handed Claude his.

  “Thanks.” He took a sip. “I’ve been sitting here watching this storm, the power and shape that it takes, the things that it does to the horizon. It’s incredible to look at.”

  She sat back down and stared out into the turbulent night. The only thing to be seen was the white suds of the waves as they pummeled the shore and the outlines of homes and rocks when lightning took their instant picture.

  “It is pretty awesome.” She took a sip of her drink.

  “What about you? Tell me something that isn’t in your bio and profile.”

  He chuckled. “What could they have missed? Oh, I got a B in spelling in second grade.”

  Melanie’s laughter floated back and forth between them. “Yeah, I have a feeling we didn’t go back quite that far.” She paused a moment, knowing that she was treading on shaky ground, but she appeased herself with the notion that she was doing this as part of getting to know her client. It was in everyone’s best interest. “Let me put it this way. Since I haven’t gone over all the information, why don’t you tell me what you think you want me to know?”