Meltdown

by Ruth Owen

  She turned away. She didn’t want charity. Not from him. “Why?” she said with more sharpness than she intended. “So you could gloat?”

  “That isn’t fair. I’ve got faults. God knows you’ve seen most of them. But vindictiveness isn’t one of them.” He paused, lowering his voice. “I didn’t think it was one of yours either.”

  His words jarred her. Belatedly she realized she was taking her misery out on him. “I’m sorry. It’s been … a long week. I’ve worked around the clock transferring Einstein to the lab. I guess I haven’t gotten much sleep.”

  “That makes two of us,” he said, sighing.

  The change in his tone surprised her. She turned to look at him and was caught by the power of his gaze. The naked longing in his eyes echoed her own emptiness, the hollowness inside that only Chris’s love could fill. Her breath caught in her throat.

  He walked over to stand beside her, his eyes fixed on hers in a look more intimate than a caress. Softly, insistently, he asked again. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  His presence overpowered her. Warmth and kindness radiated from him, infusing her with a strength she’d all but forgotten. She felt as if she’d stepped into the sunlight after a solid week of night. “I … I don’t know, really,” she told him honestly. “I suppose I thought you’d be glad to be rid of me.”

  Chris gave a small laugh. “I should be, shouldn’t I? You’ve been nothing but trouble since I met you. The first time I called you, you hung up on me. The next morning you almost slammed a door in my face.”

  “You deserved it,” she said, turning to face him. “You dropped by without warning when I was knee-deep in Einstein. I wasn’t prepared for a visitor. Why, I was covered with oil!”

  “And not much else, I recall,” he commented, smiling.

  His charming, wicked smile sent a shock wave through her system. “I thought you were mad at me,” she said.

  “I am mad at you. But I’m also mad about you.” He raised his hand and gently, reverently, began to trace the line of her chin. “Did you really think I’d let you walk out of my life?”

  “Oh, damn,” she said, as a sob caught in her throat. “Why are you doing this? You’re just making things harder.”

  He wasn’t listening. He gathered a tendril of her hair and wrapped it around his finger. “You’re wearing your hair up again,” he murmured, shaking his head. “I’ll have to do something about that.”

  He reached around and tugged at the pin holding her bun, sending her hair cascading around her shoulders. Melanie gasped at the intimacy of his touch. Fire raced through her veins. She wanted to fall into his arms, to believe without reason that everything would be all right. But that, she knew, would solve nothing. She stepped out of his arms and took a deep, steadying breath. “Chris, listen to me. It can’t work between us. We may feel this way about each other now, but it won’t last. Einstein’s gone, but eventually another project will replace him. My work is a part of me—I can’t give it up, even for you.”

  She expected him to be angry. Instead, he looked at her as if she were crazy. “Is that what this is about? You think I want you to give up your work?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Genius, use your brains! If I wanted you to give up your work, why would I offer you the job as cohead of Product Research?”

  “I thought you were being … nice.”

  “Nice?” He groaned and cast an anguished look upward. “Good God, what does it take to get through to this woman? I offered you the job because you are the best systems programmer on the coast. Your technical knowledge would be an incredible asset to the company. The fact that you’re the most wonderful woman in the world and that I’m in love with you was just an added bonus.”

  “Chris, please,” she said, turning away. “Don’t you see? Our relationship can’t possibly work. Logically, we have nothing in common.”

  “Logic again,” he said, shaking his head. “Look, if you’re looking for a guarantee, I can’t give you one. Love isn’t perfect, like some mathematical equation. But I know that what I feel for you is the best, truest, most real thing in my life. And I’ll be damned if I’ll give it up because it’s not ‘logical.’ ”

  “Chris, I—”

  “I’m not through yet,” he told her. He walked over to her, standing as close as he could without touching her. “I’ve made my choice, genius. Now you’ve got to make yours. You’ve got to decide. Now … do you want the job, or not?”

  This wasn’t about a job. This was about being with Chris, about choosing to love him and damn the consequences. A yes would go against everything she’d ever believed in her life, against every ounce of sense in her being. Against everything in her—except her heart. She couldn’t think sensibly with him standing so near her, touching every part of her with his sweet, smoldering gaze. Sugarcoated dynamite. She swallowed and pleaded, “I need some time.”

  He caught her roughly in his arms. “Time’s up. Yes or no. I’ve solved my equation. You solve yours.”

  Solve the equation—the elusive, romantic equation. She’d been trying to solve it ever since she’d seen Chris in the company cafeteria all those months ago. She’d never thought about the equation before then, never even considered it important. Not until she’d met Chris.

  And suddenly she knew the answer. It was Chris. He was the answer to her equation, just as she was the answer to his. The simplicity astonished her. It was so easy, so obvious, so—

  “Yes or no, Melanie.”

  She had her answer. Clasping her arms around his neck, she reached up and delivered an intoxicating kiss on his mouth. She opened her lips, hungry for his passion, for a taste of the happiness to come. It was a long time before either of them spoke.

  “Hell,” he said when he finally raised his head. “I hope that was a yes.”

  Melanie laughed. “Well, if you couldn’t tell, maybe I’d better do it again.”

  “I wouldn’t mind,” said Chris, smiling devilishly. “But I ought to warn we’re on display. Remember the goldfish?”

  Melanie looked around. Beyond the glass windows of the office she saw the entire data-entry department looking on.

  She turned back to Chris, a bright, mischievous smile on her lips. “They’d better get used to it,” she said. “Logically speaking, they’re going to be seeing a lot of this in the future.”

  “Now that,” Chris said, as he lowered his mouth to cover hers, “is my kind of logic.”

  Epilogue

  The lab buzzed with activity. Melanie looked down on the rows and rows of processing units that stretched in neat white lines across the length and breadth of the enormous development lab. White-suited technicians traversed the rows, hooking up the last of the thick network cables. Directly below the viewing window another technician checked a battery of console dials, feeding the numbers into a hand-held computer.

  Melanie stepped back from the window, amazed at the complexity of the place. She turned to Robert Daniels, the chief technician. “Is all this Einstein?”

  “It’s what Einstein’s grown into over the past six months,” Daniels answered. “We added the first row of boxes when he started coordinating the city’s power stations. We added the next two when he began monitoring the traffic system and operating the experimental offshore drilling rig.”

  “Whew.” Chris shook his head. “And to think I used to use him for football point spreads.”

  “He does that too,” Daniels said, smiling. “But only if we ask him nicely. Now, if you and Mrs. Sheffield will step this way, we can begin.”

  Chris placed his hand on Melanie’s arm and instantly noticed the almost imperceivable stiffness in her. A month of matrimony had made him aware that the slightest nuances in her movements could speak volumes. He waited until Daniels was a few steps in front of them, then bent down and asked, “Darling, what’s wrong?”

  “E’s just so … changed,” she said. “There’s nothing familiar about him. He’s a completely
different computer.”

  “Not that different,” Chris said, pointing.

  Melanie followed his direction. Chris had pointed out a small table at the side of the room Daniels had led them into. The table was piled high with red-wrapped packages, obviously purchased from the Shopping Channel. She gave her husband’s arm a quick, grateful squeeze. “I guess some things never change.”

  Daniels waved them over to the other side of the room. He had them stand in front of a small box that looked something like a midsize stereo speaker. Then he picked up a cordless microphone. “Einstein,” he said, “I’ve got a surprise for you. The Sheffields have come to watch the test of our new prototype.”

  Long experience made Melanie scan the room for a monitor. She didn’t need to. The speaker in front of them emitted a cheerful voice that said, “Hey, guys. What’s shaking?”

  Melanie turned to Chris, her eyes brimming with tears of happiness. “It’s him, Chris. It’s really E.”

  “Of course, it’s me,” Einstein said. “Just the same. Only now there’s more of me to love.”

  “That’s my metallic goomba,” Chris said, laughing.

  “So how are they treating you? Can you handle the work load?”

  “Piece of toast,” E assured him. “Did you like my present?”

  Chris thought of the gross of glow-in-the-dark golf balls Einstein had sent them as a wedding present. “It was the most—er—unusual present we received.”

  “It was very sweet of you,” Melanie added. “Especially since you’ve got so much to do.”

  “Not so much,” E told her. “Except for designing prototype. That was tough.”

  Surprised, Melanie turned to Daniels. “Einstein designed the prototype?”

  Daniels nodded. “He designed most of it. Frankly, we’re anxious to see what happens when we switch it on.

  “Then let’s do it,” Chris said, placing his arm around Melanie’s shoulders. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

  Daniels spoke over the intercom, telling the remaining technicians to clear the area. Then he made a series of last-minute adjustments to the dials on his monitor console. Melanie watched him, thankful that Einstein had such a competent man as his chief technician. “It looks like E’s in good hands,” she whispered to her husband.

  Chris smiled and lifted her hand to his lips. “So am I,” he told her.

  The strength of their love still astonished her. It grew deeper and richer with every passing day. Oh, they’d had their share of arguments, but even the rocky times added to the texture of their relationship, to the profound wholeness they’d found in each other’s arms. It seemed to her that Chris had always been a part of her life. She remembered Einstein’s comment about Match/Merge. He’d spoken more truth than either of them had suspected.

  Daniels finished his adjustments and turned to the couple. “We’re clear. Are you ready, Einstein?”

  “Affirmative,” E said, unconcerned.

  In contrast, Chris was as nervous as a cat. Melanie felt Chris’s body tense and realized he was more nervous than she was. She looked up at him and winked. “Piece of toast,” she whispered encouragingly.

  Daniels threw the switch. The humming sound of the processing units increased slightly, but that was the only perceivable change. Daniels made a quick check of the details. “Excellent. All the calibrations are within the safety ranges. It worked.”

  Chris let out the breath he was holding. “Boy, I’m glad that’s over. So, E, how’s it feel to have a twin? E?”

  But Einstein was too busy to answer him. He was deep within his circuitry, watching a tiny spark of consciousness flare to life. Nanosecond by nanosecond he studied the new creation, examining the patterns of her bytes, the poetry of her configuration. He waited patiently for a full second—a computer’s eternity—before he gathered up the courage to contact her.

  “Hey, babe,” he whispered. “What’s shaking?”

  For Mom, Dad, Francie, and David,

  who always had faith in me, even

  when I didn’t.

  THE EDITOR’S CORNER

  Happy New Year!

  Another year may have slipped on by, but don’t let these romances slip by you! Ring in the New Year with romance starting with an electrifying journey of emotional and sexual discovery that pushes two damaged souls to their breaking point—and beyond in, RUINED, by Tracy Wolff, the first installment of The Ethan Frost Novels. Award winning author, Bronwen Evans, debuts The Disgraced Lords Series with Loveswept, book one, A KISS OF LIES – tortured and abandoned, can two people recover and ignite each other’s deepest passions? Romantic Suspense fans will enjoy, IN THE DARK, where passion raises the stakes in Sally Eggert’s electrifying novel of deception and desire. Mary Ann Rivers launches her contemporary series with LIVE, riveting romance sure to please readers of Ruthie Knox, Kristan Higgins, and Jill Shalvis.

  Fans of Stacey Kennedy’s Club Sin Series will be thrilled to know another wicked and wild tale of submission, seduction, and love, will be available later in the month — BARED, Cora and Aidan’s story.

  A little something for everyone — usher in your New Year with Loveswept.

  And, you don’t want to miss these classics:

  OMG is all I can say about Connie Brockway’s, McClairen Isle trilogy — enjoy these men in kilts, beginning with: THE PASSIONATE ONE, THE RECKLESS ONE and THE RAVISHING ONE. Then, Ruth Owen programs a code for seduction in, MELTDOWN, plus, New York Times bestselling author Iris Johansen weaves the unforgettable story of a man and a woman who come together under the spell of danger—and explosive desire in, THE SPELLBINDER. Sandra Chastain’s, Civil War romance, SCANDAL IN SILVER, will touch your heart, along with, Linda Cajio’s, IRRESISTIBLE STRANGER and AT FIRST SIGHT. Meet single mom Kitty Reardon in Fran Baker’s heartwarming story, KING OF THE MOUNTAIN. And for those of you that missed the Grayson boys in Elisabeth Barrett’s, Star Harbor series, don’t fret, the series is being rereleased this month in an eBundle — DEEP AUTUMN HEAT; BLAZE OF WINTER; SLOW SUMMER BURN; LONG SIMMERING SPRING.

  Gina Wachtel

  Associate Publisher

  Read on for excerpts from more Loveswept titles …

  Read on for an excerpt from Ruthie Knox’s

  Roman Holiday 1: Chained

  CHAPTER ONE

  The arrival of the shiny black SUV in the parking lot startled the fawn into flight.

  Ashley watched it bound out of the empty swimming pool, between the two-story rental units, and onto the beach. She tried not to hate the man who had driven it away.

  Her chafed wrists were not his fault. He hadn’t pushed her down onto this pile of mulch, nor had he chained her to the palm tree. He hadn’t insisted she launch her protest clad only in a damp bikini and a T-shirt.

  No, all of that was Ashley’s doing. She had to place the blame for this harebrained caper squarely on her own aching shoulders.

  Even though Roman Díaz was about to destroy the only place in the world that mattered to her, she wouldn’t hate him. Hate was poisonous.

  But man, she’d really been enjoying the little Key deer. It had been such an excellent distraction from all the depressing thoughts about her grandmother.

  Past the spot where it had disappeared, a slice of sunrise washed the sky in orange, and the dark silhouette of an angular palm tree framed a view straight off a Florida landscape postcard.

  Whereas the SUV was like the other kind of postcard—the tacky kind that had a smiling woman shoving her enormous, barely clad hooters toward the viewer over a neon-script tagline like “A Big Hello from Florida.”

  It didn’t bode well.

  The soft glow of early morning did little to conceal the fact that the eight-unit rental complex spread out around the pool had seen better days. Peachy Keen and Salmon Sunset had faded to a pinkish beige and beigeish pink, respectively, while Turquoise Treasure was a sort of anemic white-blue. The interiors were worse, the carpet grotty and the blond-wood-and-seashell them
e of the decor begging for an update.

  But for Ashley, Sunnyvale Vacation Rentals retained a timeless beauty—the white railings on the upper and lower porches matching the trim around the windows and along the rooflines; the broad, fringed leaves of the sheltering palms; the ocean beyond, just a short walk to the dock.

  The sky, the sun, the light, the breeze off the water. All of it bound up together, indivisibly part of this place she loved more than any other.

  The driver’s door opened, and black dress shoes appeared beneath gray slacks. The black top of his head crested the door, then disappeared as he ducked down to reach into the car—probably retrieving his hooded cape and sickle, just to complete the look.

  But no. When he emerged from behind the door, his evil was far more subtle than she’d expected. The closer he walked, the more this rich Miami land developer looked like television’s version of a bad guy: tall, dark, expensive, beautifully proportioned, and—she had to admit—way more handsome than people were supposed to be in real life.

  Ashley liked a handsome man as much as the next girl, but the ones who really got her going always had endearingly imperfect teeth, bad haircuts, unfortunate facial hair—some flaw that made them approachable. She picked the sort of guys who were game to go surfing on a whim or try out sex in a hammock even if they risked ending up in the dirt, slightly bruised and laughing.

  Whereas this man—no way did he own a hammock. He was too perfect, his handsomeness nothing less than a loaded weapon aimed at the world. She imagined him bleaching his teeth so white that he purposefully blinded people when he smiled. You’d be gazing at his face, mesmerized by those teeth—which she couldn’t even see right now, but she knew just how they’d look, their contrast to the deep brown of his skin both surprising and delicious—and then you’d blink and he’d be gone, and so would your wallet and your house.