Frankie tilted her head back and blew him a playful kiss, leaving Mel with a lingering stab of envy for their obvious affection for one another. “You are, honey. But the second sexiest man ever is on TV. You know, Celebrity Ballroom? Neil Jensen?”
Jasmine purred. “ Nom-nom. How do you know him, Mel? If I wasn’t already wildly in love and newly married, I’d sink my cougar claws into a piece of that.”
Mel laughed, hiding a sigh of relief they didn’t know about her new obsession with Drew. “Neil’s my old partner from my competition days. He’s here to beat me back into submission.”
“I’d let him beat me into anything,” Maxine commented, slipping in beside Jasmine and giving her a quick peck on the cheek. She gave Mel a pat on the hand. “You look terrific, Mel! I’ve heard only great things from Dean Keller and the rest of the staff. I’m so glad it seems to be working out.”
Mel couldn’t help but grin. Today’s coup with Nate couldn’t be tarnished by a swollen eye. “The boys are awful dancers. They hate every second spent in my classroom. I know they’d rather be finding the cure for cancer, but I’m actually kind of getting into the swing of it— even with all the bitching and moaning.”
“So this Neil— is he the reason for the happy? Any chance of a little romance in the air?” Frankie asked.
Mel placed her order with the waitress and shook her head.
“Never. First, I’m not ready for anything more serious than a hang-nail. Second, Neil and I will always be nothing more than friends. We’ve always known that. He’s like a brother, and lately, the reason I hate five in the morning. How did you know he was even here?”
Maxine laughed, handing her menu to the waitress. “Nothing gets past the Villagers. Surely you didn’t think you could wow the seniors with your fancy footwork and it would go unnoticed? My mother and Gail gushed about that demo you gave them until I was almost compelled to hit Arthur Murray’s and never look back. I won’t even tell you what she said about Neil and his back end. It isn’t fit for polite company.”
“I’ll tell you what Gail said about Neil,” Frankie offered with a sly grin. “She said, and I quote, ‘Bet a man like that doesn’t need a penis pump.’ ”
“Well, so far there’ve been no complaints, but I’m not getting any younger,” a voice drawled from over Mel’s shoulder.
Frankie hid behind her napkin while Maxine’s face turned red and Jasmine, unabashed, stared Neil down. “Oh, look, a yummy man,” she snickered, motioning him to pull up a chair.
Neil held up his hands, shaking his head. “You ladies carry on. I’m just here for some of that infamous takeout meatloaf.”
“Oh, c’mon, Neil,” Mel chided, tossing her napkin at him. “There are three gushing females here. You don’t want to pass up the chance to add more admiring fans to your posse, do you?”
Neil smiled his dazzlingly white Hollywood smile and chucked her under the chin. “I’m afraid I have plans, girls. Maybe another time?”
“You’re here in Jersey two minutes and you already have a date? Jesus, Neil.” Mel whistled.
“ Neil— Neil Jensen?” a young man, dressed in a dark suit with a plaid tie called from across the diner, making his way toward them.
Neil stood in front of Mel in a defensive stance. “That’s me. You are?”
“I’m Fierce Parker, the entertainment reporter from Jersey Every Morning. Do you mind if I ask you some questions about your ex-partner, Melina Cherkasov?”
Mel shrank behind Neil, praying Fierce wouldn’t see her. He’d called her father’s, looking for her side of the story about her and Stan’s breakup a few months ago.
Thanks to Jackie and her anonymous tips to one gossip venue or another, no one had found her yet. Frankie shot her concerned eyes, while Max narrowed hers in the reporter’s direction.
“In fact, I kind of do mind, Fierce,” Neil said affably. “I have no comment.”
Mel slid farther down in her seat, her feet numb and her empty stomach lurching.
Fierce’s alert eyes scanned the faces at the table, looking past Neil while Mel cowered, her hand over her face. “Just a couple of questions. C’mon, Neil. Help a guy out.”
“I have nothing to say about Melina Cherkasov. Now, Fierce, I’m going to be as polite as I can when I ask you to please leave myself and the ladies alone while we enjoy our dinner.”
Mel heard the tension in his voice, knew it well from the hundreds of times they’d had to smile and nod at a critique of their work Neil didn’t necessarily agree with. She prayed Fierce would take the hint and go away.
Like praying had done her a whole lot of good lately. “Have you seen her recently? Do you know where she is? Did you know Stan’s asked Yelena to marry him? Does she know?”
Neil’s sigh was ragged and growing impatient. “Again, I’m going to ask you to move along, Mr. Parker. No comment.”
But Fierce was, after all, a reporter. If he could blow one small word out of proportion, inflate one tidbit of gossip, he’d find a way to get a quote from Neil.
Neil couldn’t afford even a whiff of bad press that might jeopardize his job on Celebrity Ballroom. Mel wouldn’t allow his reputation to be blighted defending her. “Is it true that she’s living in a homeless shelter?” Fierce pressed, his gaunt face studying Neil’s.
“No …” Mel whispered at first, but Neil waved her off from behind his back. “No!” she yelped, both in defense of her supposed homelessness and Neil’s signal to keep quiet. “No! That’s not true,” she yelled, jumping up from the booth, making the bottle of wine they’d been sharing wobble.
Shit. Hadn’t she learned anything being married to superstar Stan? Never give the press anything. Never confirm or deny.
“Melina.” Fierce, his eyes hungry, surveyed every inch of her, including her swollen eye and the rumpled clothes she hadn’t had time to change out of. “Can I ask you a couple of questions? Don’t you want everyone to hear your side of the story?”
She licked her lips, pushing a protesting Neil out of the way. “No. You can’t ask me any questions. Please leave me alone.” For all the good asking nicely would do when some cub reporter, desperate for ratings, was who she was asking.
He placed a hand on her arm to keep her from stepping around him. “But this is your opportunity to tell the world what happened,” he coaxed, a smile on his thick lips.
Mel gulped hard, her terror over being found a huge lump in her throat. “I said, please leave me alone,” she repeated, pulling her arm back, forcing herself to calm.
Yet Fierce was one tenacious bastard. As she tried to inch past him, he blocked her by shoving his sleazy face in hers and placing his hand back on her arm, faking an expression of sympathy.
At that very moment, when all good knights in shining armor should rear up on their white horses, a fist out of nowhere shot over her shoulder and landed a punch that cracked so loud, it made everyone in the diner drop their silverware.
The owner of the fist whispered in her ear, creating havoc with her already roiling belly. “What color tutu do you wear for an occasion like punching a guy out?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dear Divorce Journal,
So there’s something to be said for having a man stand up for you, even when the man is Drew “Dancing Is Stupid” McPhee. And yes, I feel compelled to make it up to him. Maybe while he’s naked and I lick something fattening off his concrete abs. Oh, this has to stop. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to purge myself of this obsession with Drew like a priest at an exorcism. Off to find my Holy Water and Bible.
In the commotion, Mel was hustled out of the way, dragged to a nearby corner by Frankie and Maxine while Jasmine gave Fierce a hard crack of her purse to his head before stepping over him and heading in Mel’s direction. “You okay, honey? Wow and wow. Who is that and where can we bioengineer three hundred more of him?”
Mel was too shocked to answer her. Instead, she made a beeline for Drew just as he was reaching down for
Fierce.
“Did you hear the lady, Parker?” Drew yanked the dazed reporter to his feet. “She said to leave her alone. No means no, Fierce. Didn’t your mother teach you that?”
Mel placed a hand on his back to stop him, caught briefly by the luxurious feel of his muscles beneath her palm, before catching herself. “Drew! Stop. Let him go.”
Fierce wiped the back of his hand across his nose with angry eyes.
“You animal! I’m just trying to do my job.”
Job? Mel’s temper flared. Since when had being an asshole become a job? Her privacy was at stake here, and she was ready to defend it at all costs. “By trying to force me to answer your questions?” Mel hissed up in his face. “Pay close attention, Fierce. If I were answering questions, or felt like I had any reason to answer them, it definitely wouldn’t be for some loser reporter who’s on some lame morning show no one but the people who pay for basic cable watch because they don’t have a choice. Now get out of my face, or I’ll make that fist in your nose seem like a day at the spa!”
Fierce’s face distorted. “I bet the basic-cable crowd would love to hear about your new boyfriend here.”
Now it wasn’t just her privacy, but the anonymity of Drew and Nate and all the children at Westmeyer. Mel lunged for him, launching herself like her legs had springs. She latched on to his tie and yanked his head down to her level. “If you even think my name, I swear by all that’s holy, I’ ll—”
“Back off, you vulture,” Drew bit out, taking Mel by the shoulders and planting her beside him. He cornered Fierce, his stance threatening. “I think you and your threats better leave, or I might mess up your pretty suit.”
Mel intervened, putting her hand on Drew’s chest. She wouldn’t allow him to become mixed up in the mess her life had become.
“Drew! Don’t. Let it be.”
“Fine,” Drew said on a huff of angry air. He brushed off Fierce’s shoulders and handed him a napkin from a nearby table to wipe the blood from his nose. “Good as new. Now leave the lady alone, Parker, and if I ever catch you even five hundred feet near her, I’ll beat you up and take your lunch money. Got that?”
Nikos, Frankie’s husband, came up from Fierce’s rear, placing a hand on the reporter’s shoulder. “Make sure you tell all of Jersey on your show tomorrow morning you got your ass beat at the Greek Meets Eat Diner, pal. Spell it right, too. Now, leave, and don’t come back, or I won’t just take your lunch money— I’ll beat your 401K right out of you.”
The reporter’s eyes narrowed to small slits in his head as he wiped the blood from his nose. “I could press charges,” he sneered at Mel.
Drew’s fists clenched. “You definitely could, but when you’re pressing those charges or blogging about this or whatever it is you snakes do, make sure you tell everyone you put your hand on the lady first. And there are, oh, I’d say, probably thirty or so witnesses to attest to that fact, right folks?” Drew’s eyes looked to the astonished customers for acknowledgment.
Customers that began to clap and cheer in response to Drew’s request.
Fierce shoved his way past Drew and Nikos with resentful eyes and a red face, stomping his embarrassment to the door.
“Byyyye, Fierce,” Drew drawled. Then all of his attention was immediately on Mel. He put a hand to her cheek. “Did he do that to your eye? I came in at the back end of it, saw he had his hand on your arm and wouldn’t let you go, and reacted. My apologies for behaving like the caveman you expect me to be.”
Mel leaned into his hand, closing her eyes to fend off the sudden attack of the girlies. “No. He didn’t do this to my eye, and thank you. You have no idea how terrified I am of the press … Anyway, thank you.”
He smiled, infuriatingly handsome. “You on your way out?”
Realizing she’d just created a scene, her appetite was suddenly gone. Frankie appeared out of nowhere with a carryout box. “I’m sorry, honey. I never saw him coming and by the look on your face, I know you just want to crawl into a hole now. But you have to eat in your hole. Take this with you, for me. Eat when you get home and you’re not so upset.”
Jasmine pushed a stray strand of Mel’s hair from her face, cupping her cheek as Maxine rubbed her arm. “Let’s have lunch on Saturday, okay? All four of us. I have a kitchen that just begs for someone to cook in it, and Simon would love nothing more than to have three gorgeous women to flirt with. I’ll call you tomorrow with directions. Now, let the nice hunk, um, man walk you to your car. You are a nice man, aren’t you?” Jasmine gave him the evil eye.
“The nicest,” Drew replied in return.
Neil draped an arm around her shoulders and leaned in to whisper, “Oh-m-gee. Mel’s got an admirer. You gonna be okay with him?”
She patted his hand and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m fine. He’s fine. I just want to leave so everyone will stop staring. I’m sorry, Neil. I’m so sorry. Stupid me to think they wouldn’t eventually catch up to me. I’ll see you tomorrow. You know, when all humane people are still asleep?”
Neil nodded, planting a quick kiss on her cheek.
Rattled, Mel whispered her apologies to everyone, especially Frankie, whose place of business had been turned upside down then let Drew lead her out to her car.
He took her hand in his as they made the short walk to her father’s truck in silence. She backed up against the truck’s door, still holding his hand, warm and callused against her cold skin. “What are you doing here?”
“Men who don’t dance eat, too.” His thumb caressed her palm in maddening circles.
Her laugh was nervous. “I’m sorry. I mean, I’m glad you were there. I knew I couldn’t hide forever, but I’d hoped eventually all the speculation about me would die down. But it seems the more elusive I am, the more everyone wants the dirt.”
“No kidding. Does that happen often?”
Instantly, she worried he feared for the safety of Nate and the boys at Westmeyer. “No. This is the first time since the divorce. I’m sorry you were involved.”
“I’m not. I had to find a way to show off my manhood. Knocking some cocky reporter out was as good a way as any.”
Mel laughed, gazing up at him with shy eyes. “Either way, thank you. I appreciate you running interference.” On impulse, she rose on her toes to plant a kiss of gratitude on his cheek when Drew turned his head and the side of her lips caught his.
The world did something funny then. Something it had never done before, and while she might have only been married to one man all her life, she’d kissed a lot of boys beforehand.
The world sort of fell out of focus before righting itself, making her swoon.
Swoon.
Their lips disconnected, but Drew didn’t move away. Instead, he let his mouth linger at the side of hers, achingly enticing. “Gratitude and you make a nice combination. Who knew the dancing queen doesn’t just have a smart mouth, but a kissable one, too?”
Her breath shuddered when he spoke, her body leaning into his.
She shivered and knew she couldn’t blame it on the cool evening air.
Drew revved her engine, floated her boat, and made her lady parts do handstands. “Who knew a Neanderthal could be so noble and gal-lant and worthy of my gratitude?”
Instantly, Mel pulled back, flattening against the truck. Who was this Flirty McFlirt? “Well, anyway, thank you. I get so tongue-tied when it comes to the press that it makes me an easy target.”
Drew let a hand rest on the doorframe of the truck, loosely pinning her in position. “Funny. You don’t seem to have that trouble with me.”
Her breathing was becoming choppy at his close proximity.
“That’s because I’m not concerned you’ll write some story that mis-construes every word I say and turn it into something ugly and completely untrue.”
“What a shitty way to live, Mel. I’m sorry.”
Was that genuine remorse or just the generic condolence everyone offered? “I managed to stay out of it for a ve
ry long time, but since my divorce …” Mel clamped her mouth shut.
“Yeah. Most of us get divorced and generally no one cares but your immediate family. Your divorce has been a circus that’s involved the entire world.”
Mel’s breath hitched when Drew’s cologne drifted to her nose.
Had he seen the reports on Hollywood Scoop? Had he watched all those undernourished female reporters, wearing designer-label dresses, speculate about her whereabouts and if she was taking her meals in a soup kitchen or living on Johnny Depp’s secluded island while she lapped up his pity?
The coy flirting she’d indulged in moments ago slipped away and was replaced by the heavy air of her humiliation. Knowing he’d probably seen more personal details about her life with Stan than she’d reveal to someone she hardly knew made her hope the ground would open and swallow her up— now.
Pity was not something you wanted from your obsession. It served as a mood killer for all those naughty thoughts. “It was definitely a circus. Complete with elephants and a sideshow freak.” Her temple began to throb. “Look, I have to go. I have to be up early, but thanks again.” Mel slipped under his arm, turning her back to him to look through her purse for her keys.
But Drew took her arm in a light grasp. “Don’t run away. I was just making an observation. I was sympathizing. Something I’m sure you think I’m incapable of, but I was nonetheless. I’m divorced, too. It had a sort of suck-i-tude to it. Granted, it wasn’t as global in the sucky department as yours, but it sucked just the same. Even us com-moners feel pain.”
His body, sheltering her from behind, and his words, spoken with a quiet decency, struck the chords of her heart. “It did suck, and I’m sorry yours sucked. But it’s over now, and I’m really trying to move forward. Reporters like that Fierce just make it difficult.”
Drew’s breath was back in her ear, making her fight a soft sigh and the impulse to lean back against his wide chest. “I bet I can help you move forward.”
Waltz This Way (v1.1) Page 11
