He made a what can you do? face at Melody. Listened again.
“Tea?” He frowned. “That all sounds very formal, doesn’t it? Everything okay? But…Okay. Okay. Okay. Wednesday tea, then. Right. Bye.”
He hung up.
“Sorry,” he said to Melody. “Grandmothers. What can you do?”
“Don’t apologize. I love grandmothers. You’re close to yours?”
“Very. But don’t get me sidetracked. We were talking about what’s happening between—”
Without warning, the bottom seemed to drop out of the elevator, leaving Melody to wobble and grab Anthony’s forearms because they were the only things she could reach. And then what began as a potential nightmare scenario turned into a smooth ride as the car began a graceful descent. Anthony recovered almost as quickly as the elevator did, holding the brass rail as he surged to his feet, bringing Melody with him.
The doors slid open to the bustling lobby from whence they’d come just as Melody stood, got her heels under her and arranged her skirt back into some semblance of normalcy. Rarely had a dramatic rescue received such a glum reception. Feeling shell-shocked by this unwanted intrusion from the rest of the world, Melody noted the chattering passersby, some of whom were happily sipping champagne or using their teeth to pull shrimp off skewers...the sudden and unwelcome infusion of brighter lighting...and the relentless thump of pop music over the speakers now that the dancing portion of the evening had begun.
She hated it all. Had to fight the overwhelming desire to punch the Close Doors button and keep punching it until the doors shut out all this nonsense and left her alone with Anthony again.
He didn’t seem to be faring much better. He stood there, his body utterly still while his expression eased into blank inscrutability. On the bright side? At least he wasn’t glaring again.
Melody watched him, trying to hide at least some of the dismay creeping across her face.
“Well, folks, looks like the doors are open.” Roy’s disembodied enthusiasm over the speaker only intensified Melody’s desire to find the nearest baseball bat and smash the panel’s lighted buttons. “We didn’t keep you too long, after all, did we? You’re free to go. Enjoy the rest of your night.”
Melody plastered a smile on her face and tried to pretend this was good news. “Thanks, Roy.”
“Yeah.” Anthony, whose lips had thinned into near invisibility, shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “Thanks.”
Neither of them moved.
Until at last some of Melody’s wits crept back into her brain and started cranking dials and flipping levers again. Sudden burning awkwardness made her tinker with an earring and smooth her hair as she strode past Anthony to rejoin the real world.
All she could think was:
What the hell happened between them now?
6
Anthony trailed Melody off the elevator, his entire existence divided into the primitive caveman part that wanted to carry her up to his room—now!—so they could get started fulfilling the promise of that red-dressed siren’s kiss, and the gentlemanly part who wanted to ask her to have a drink with him so he could make sure he got her number and further make sure that he handled their budding relationship with the kid gloves it deserved. Because Melody felt important. This felt damn important. But his hormones buzzed in his veins and his pulse. And the rest of the world kept insisting on getting in the way.
For example? The friendly neighborhood elevator technician in his blue jumpsuit, tools littering the floor as he worked on some master panel to one side of the elevator.
“Worked as quickly as I could, folks,” the man said. “Hope you’re none the worse for the wear.”
Melody stopped and smiled. Only the telltale bursts of color over her cheekbones told the tale of how flustered she was at the moment. Maybe almost as flustered as Anthony was.
“Thanks for riding to the rescue. We appreciate it.”
The we was a lie. Anthony didn’t appreciate being unwillingly liberated from his intimate little cocoon with Melody. But that wasn’t this poor guy’s fault.
“Thanks, mate,” he said, shaking the man’s hand and keeping one eye on Melody as she walked a few steps away, to a seating area near the reception desk. “Sorry for the trouble.”
“No worries. That’s what they pay me the big bucks for.”
Anthony nodded and hurried after Melody who had, by this time, taken off his jacket and folded it neatly over her arm. Her downturned face was pensive as she smoothed a sleeve but, to her credit, she managed a fairly convincing smile as he walked up. If he hadn’t spent so much time studying this exquisite face tonight, he might almost be fooled into thinking their interlude hadn’t unsettled her the way it had him.
“Thank you for letting me borrow your jacket,” she said, handing it back to him.
“My pleasure.”
He had so much more he wanted to say to her—questions to ask about her life and career, whether she’d give him her number, whether she’d let him see her tomorrow—but it wasn’t so easy now that she didn’t belong to him alone anymore. Now that they were out of the elevator. In there, where it was just the two of them, it was fine to ask her to take down her hair and to request a picture. In there, he was just a guy, the same as any other. Out here? There was every possibility that she’d discover who he was before she got to know him any better and judge him on his own merits, such as they were. Out here, she probably had friends waiting. Other people to catch up to. Appetizers to nibble and cocktails to drink. For all he knew, she was eager to get home and put her feet up so she could scroll through the pictures on DoctorLove.com.
But maybe she wanted to linger a while. With him.
There was something steady in her shining eyes as she looked up at him. Something vulnerable and hopeful.
“Have a drink with me, Melody,” he said before his courage evaporated.
“Well, finally.” She grinned, looking relieved. “I was afraid you were going to let me slip away into the crowd now that you have your jacket back.”
She was afraid—?
“I’d have to be a much bigger fool than this to let you slip away into the crowd.”
“Well, you’re back to glaring at me again. It’s hard to tell what you’re thinking.”
He had to smile, even if doing so in that moment left him feeling incredibly exposed.
“I was thinking that life was so much simpler on the elevator.”
“Agreed,” she said, laughing. “You were very bold on the elevator.”
“You kissed me on the elevator. Did you forget that part?”
“Did I forget kissing you?” A blush blazed its way across her breasts, up her neck and all the way to her forehead and ears. “Let’s call that a no.”
He felt a wild rush of satisfaction. It gave him additional courage.
“I want to take your hand again. Or is that strictly elevator behavior?”
There was a pause.
Then she held out a hand.
He took it, marveling at the soft skin and delicate fingers, so different from his own.
“You have good hands.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles as they turned toward the ballroom. “You really should think about surgery as a career. I’m sure you’d be quite good at it.”
She laughed. “Noted. Speaking of careers, you haven’t told me what you do for—”
“I hate to interrupt,” said a new male voice coming up behind them, “but—”
The Texas twang made Anthony cringe and drop Melody’s hand even before he turned to verify the owner of that deep voice. Dear God. Not him. Not now. But it was him, of course. Like a spot appearing on the tip of a teen’s nose the day of class pictures, the man invariably showed up at the worst possible time.
Melody also glanced around at the man, looking bemused.
Anthony let his eyes roll closed and rubbed his temple in anticipation of the pending headache.
“—I feel a moral obligation to let you kn
ow, ma’am.” As per usual, the man focused on the woman in the group. His charm level was always directly proportionate to a woman’s beauty, which meant that he laid it on particularly thick tonight to impress Melody. The sparkling eyes, flashing teeth and grooving dimples were therefore all on full display in the man’s weathered face, and the silver hair was coiffed to slick perfection. He looked trim in his custom tux, Anthony noted with clinical detachment, which meant that he still spent a good portion of his days lifting weights at the nearest gym. An added benefit of the gym? There were always gym bunnies on the lookout for a sugar daddy, so the arrangement was win-win for all parties concerned, at least until the inevitable nasty breakup and/or divorce. Tonight’s pointy boots were a glossy alligator rather than the pebbly ostrich of the last time Anthony had seen him. Oh, and the man’s spray tan was especially healthy tonight, although it was too pumpkin-esque for Anthony’s tastes. “A stunning woman such as yourself can do a lot better than this bozo.” The man jerked a thumb at Anthony. “If you have any interest in a real man, let me know.”
Anthony opened his eyes and dropped his hand in time to see the man toast Melody with his glass of bourbon and much glimmering of his diamond-studded pinky ring, then drink deeply.
“I will bear that in mind.” Melody divided her attention between the two of them. “And do you have a name? In case I need to come calling?”
The man finished his drink with a smack of appreciation, whipped his enormous white handkerchief out of his breast pocket and patted his lips. Then he replaced it and beamed his dazzling toothpaste commercial smile directly at Melody.
“I do have a name. But maybe Junior, here, would like to make the introductions.”
Melody and the man looked to Anthony, who considered the relative merits of making a run for it. It would be hard to explain later, of course, but surely no harder than explaining his genetics. On the other hand, Melody already knew a good portion of the worst about Anthony, having witnessed one of his panic attacks. Why not bite the bullet and get more of the worst out of the way now?
He sighed. Girded his loins.
“Dr. Melody Harrison, this is Tony Scott.” Anthony tried to get the rest of the information out, but it felt trapped behind his clenched jaw. “My, ah, father.”
“Your father?” Melody took a closer look at both men, then nodded with dawning comprehension. “I see the resemblance now. You have the same noses and chins. And your face shape. It’s great to meet you, Mr. Scott. But, Anthony, I thought you were British through and through. You didn’t tell me you’re as American as I am.”
“I’m, ah…” Anthony cleared his throat. “My mother was British, so I’m half and half.”
Tony winked at Melody. “Half the time, he doesn’t claim me. The other half of the time, I’m disowning him because none of his halves have any Texas in ’em. Things get complicated around here, darlin’. You might as well learn that early in the game.”
“I see,” Melody said, raising a delicate brow.
Anthony crossed his arms and tugged on an earlobe, which was a better option for his hands than, say, lunging for his father’s throat. “I didn’t hear why you’re here.”
He couldn’t bring himself to add Dad.
“I got word that Baptiste was throwing himself a little party and decided to put myself on the guest list. Baptiste is always happy to see me. Almost like the son I should have had.”
Melody frowned as she listened to this speech.
“And I figured I might catch you here, too,” Tony concluded.
“You do realize that catching me is a great deal easier when you pick up the phone and call once every six months or so,” Anthony said.
“You’re no better on the communicating,” Tony said easily, flapping a hand. “But we don’t need to get into all that now. We do need to discuss your grandmother, though. Word is, she’s up to her shenanigans again.”
“You know what?” Melody said brightly. “I should let you men—”
“No,” Anthony said quickly, as alarmed at the prospect of being left alone with his father as he was at the idea of Melody either slipping away while he wasted time with this nonsense or Melody learning more about his grandmother tonight. “You shouldn’t.” He shot his father a pointed look. “Why don’t we try to catch up in a day or two?”
The one good thing about Tony (if, indeed, there was anything good about him at all), was that he was extraordinarily sensitive to matters pertaining to impressing women. The light of understanding brightened his eyes immediately.
As did the light of mischief.
“Sure, son, but I was fixin’ to buy a couple drinks for you and your beautiful date, here.”
“Oh, we’re not on a date,” Melody said quickly, cheeks flushing.
The clarification made Anthony feel a twinge of annoyance.
“Yes, but that’s a distinction without a difference at this stage of the proceedings, isn’t it?” he murmured silkily, now aiming his pointed look at Melody as he retook her hand and drew her back to his side. He pressed his thumb to the pulse in her wrist, noting with satisfaction the way her heart rate sped up when he touched her. Then he turned back to his father. “So we should plan on speaking soon, then?”
Tony eyeballed their clasped hands with open amusement, causing a further spike in Anthony’s annoyance level. “I was hoping to get to know Miss Melody a little better—”
So am I, for Christ’s sake, Anthony thought.
“—but I can’t blame you for wanting to keep her to yourself. Glad you appreciate your good fortune. A woman like this? Plenty of men would be happy to snatch her away from you.”
“Funny how I’ve been living my whole life thinking I was a real human being,” Melody said tartly, “only to discover at this late date that I can be snatched just like a car. Who knew?”
“Oho! Miss Melody’s a spitfire! But we could look at her hair and her red dress and tell that, couldn’t we, son?” Another wink at Melody, who received it the way flood victims receive weather forecasts calling for more rain. “You’ll have to forgive me, ma’am. I’m just an old country boy. Hard to teach me new manners at this late date.”
“If you call me ma’am again, I’m never forgiving you anything,” Melody told him, eyes glinting with a warning look.
Anthony snorted.
Tony exploded with laughter as he clapped his son on the back. “You’ll have to keep this one, son.”
There it was at last. Something he and his father could agree on.
Anthony tightened his grip on Melody’s hand and steered her away from all the raucous laughter before it drew any more attention than it already had. “I’ll wait to hear from you soon, then, shall I?”
Tony tipped his invisible cowboy hat and waved.
Scowling, Anthony steered Melody back to the ballroom, the silence between them mushrooming into awkwardness. And there was another good thing about his father, Anthony supposed. Ten seconds in his presence, and Anthony was no longer the most ill-mannered person in the room.
The thought was strangely cheering.
“Sorry about that,” he muttered when he could no longer stand the suspense of wondering what Melody thought of him now. “Sometimes I console myself with thoughts that my mother had an affair with the rubbish man and I’m therefore not related to Tony at all.”
“Oh, you’re related,” she said cheerily. “You look like him.”
“But you’re not holding that against me…?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. You think he’s the only character I’ve ever encountered?”
Somehow Anthony resisted the urge to drop to his knees and kiss her feet in gratitude. “You’re too good to be true, surely.”
She beamed with unmistakable pleasure. “Surely.”
He looked around, discovering that they were near the sushi bar. “Shall we get something to drink? Are you hungry?”
“Sounds good to…”
She trailed off as the music change
d, a frisson of excitement running from her hand to his.
He knew why. It was Joe Cocker’s raspy and haunting “You Are So Beautiful,” the perfect soundtrack to mirror what ran through his mind every time he looked at Melody tonight.
She looked back over her shoulder at him, a woman’s sultry smile beginning to curl her lips as she tugged him with her to the dance floor. “You’re not going to tell me no again, are you?”
His heart contracted, hard.
Probably because that was the one moment, in a night full of moments, when he realized how vulnerable he was to this one woman’s looks and smiles, her humor and laughter. Her smarts. Her light. And if it turned out that she wasn’t the person he suspected she was, if she decided she wanted nothing further to do with him or if she let her glorious light shine on some other bloke’s face…
In that one moment, he really had to wonder if he would recover.
“Anthony?”
“We both know I have no intentions of telling you no,” he said, reeling her in.
Her laughter was soft. Triumphant. The way he imagined she’d sound if she made him come until he shouted her name.
A helpless shudder rippled through his body as she settled inside his arms, her breasts firm against his chest and her thighs brushing against his as they shifted back and forth. She was ridiculously feminine, in every possible way. Her fragrant warmth. The scent of expensive flowers in her hair and on her bare skin. The silkiness of her dress as he rested his hand on her waist. The entirely different silkiness of her flesh as he ran his hand under the heavy fall of her hair, to her nape. The way she cooed her approval from her throat, like a dove. The way she turned her face into him, snuggling closer, allowing him to press his eager lips to her forehead and leave them there while they swayed back and forth.
Much to his surprise, he managed to dredge up a little rhythm and stay on the beat.
Everything I Hoped For Page 7
