The Bride Wore Tie-Dye. Pamela Ingrahm
these days.
“Are you guys finished eating?” The two nodded. “Then why don’t you go play on the second playground.”
The two were off like bolts of lightning, and Trenton shook his head. “I just love those kids.”
“They are darlings, that’s for sure. Can I make a big leap here and assume they are the reason behind this video?”
“Part of it, certainly. My market research gives me hope that it will also be a lucrative project. It would be a nice addition to their trust funds.”
Melodie settled back and crossed her legs comfortably. “How did you get started in all this?”
“Their mother, who is my sister, is a radio/TV/film major at U.T. Bridgette has to do a video for a school assignment and she mentioned one day that she couldn’t find any good children’s exercise videos. We both just looked at each other.”
Melodie raised an eyebrow. “And the rest, as they say, is history?”
“Pretty much. Her project doesn’t have to be marketed, but after doing some research, we figured that if she was going to do all that work, she might as well get something out of it.”
“Just she? You’re not involved?”
“I’m fronting the expenses, but that’s all I’m going to let Bridgette pay me back. This is for her and the kids.”
“That’s awfully nice of you.”
“They’re very special to me.”
The love and caring she saw in his eyes made her uncomfortable. He was obviously the kind of big brother every girl dreamed of having. Bridgette was one of the lucky ones to actually get an older sibling like Trenton. Other big brothers weren’t quite as close to the mark.
She cleared her throat. “So where do I come in?”
“We envision this as a dance video. We had someone lined up to lead it, but she had to back out due to an illness in her family. Now we need to recast the role.”
After they briefly discussed the financial terms, Melodie admitted she was interested, but every time she looked at Trenton, her gut meter went off in warning. It was the voice that said, “Danger! Nice guy ahead.” Nice guys, as a whole, were all right, but they tended to be awfully straitlaced.
Worse yet, she knew from some of Serena’s gossip that Trent was not only a nice guy, he was a nice guy hunting for a wife. Not that he’d ever cast her in that role, but the last thing she needed was to be locked into a project with a guy that made her nervous. And nice guys could never understand that she wasn’t going to sacrifice who she was on the altar of marriage. Men always started out saying they won’t ask a woman to give up her career or her dreams, but she’d watched too many of her friends cave in when their husbands put on the pressure. She didn’t have the time or the desire to play that game.
Time. Now there was the real problem. She didn’t have the time to devote to this project, even if she were so inclined. So all in all, it would just be easiest if she let them both off the hook.
“Look, Trent, I appreciate you talking to me about the video and all, but I don’t think I’m your girl.”
He looked at her for a long moment, and Melodie appreciated his honesty by not offering false disappointment.
“If you’re sure…” he began.
Melodie nodded. “Yes, I think it would be best. I do want to thank you for the opportunity.”
“My pleasure.”
She doubted it, but it was nice of him to say anyway.
They stood and were shaking hands when Joey burst into the room. “Uncle Trenton! Amber threw up!”
Trent turned and raced to the play area. He’d barely reached the door when Amber came through and launched herself into his arms, tears streaming down her face.
“I was just…” The rest of her words were lost in her sobs. Melodie stroked the child’s head comfortingly.
“She was hanging upside down on the monkey bars when she hurled all over everything. It was cool!” Joey supplied with typical brotherly concern.
Attendants hurried to the area with cleaning supplies, and a manager came over to them. “Is the child all right, sir?”
“Yes, she’s fine. I should have made her wait longer after eating.”
“That’s quite all right. This happens often.”
Trenton stood with Amber in his arms and gave Melodie a wry smile over the little girl’s shoulder. “Look, Melodie—”
They both gave exasperated sighs as his cellular phone chirped in his pocket. Shifting Amber, he answered the summons.
Feeling awkward about listening to his side of the conversation, Melodie tried to focus her attention elsewhere. This was one of those situations the protocol police needed to come up with some new rules for. Did one stand there and listen obviously? Did one look off and pretend not to listen? Did one physically move away? Melodie decided if she could find the time she was going to write a book: Cellular Phones and the Men Who Love Them.
It should be a bestseller.
Thankfully, he kept the conversation short. When she brought her attention back to him, it was obvious that he wasn’t exactly happy.
“That was Bridgette.”
Melodie waited, not sure that a response was required.
“I told her that you declined, but she insisted I invite you to dinner at my house tonight. We’re having a meeting of the video staff at seven-thirty. It will be informal.”
Melodie wanted to inquire which would be informal—the dinner or the meeting.
“Please, Miss Melodie,” Amber said, her blue eyes liquid with tears. “I want you to meet my mommy.”
“No, honey. Not this time. I promise you I’ll stay after school one afternoon and meet her, okay?”
Barely mollified, Amber nodded and rested her head against her uncle’s broad chest.
After giving Amber a final pat, Melodie smiled at Trent. “Thank you again, but no. I’ll just go so you can take care of the kids.”
Trenton held out his hand and shook hers warmly once more. “I appreciate your time, Melodie.” He reached into his pocket for a pen. “Here’s my card,” he said as he wrote on the back, “in case you change your mind. It was nice talking with you.”
“You, too. Goodbye.”
In a blink, it seemed, they were outside and heading for their respective vehicles. As she slipped inside her traveling sauna, Melodie wondered how she’d gotten herself into another fine mess with so little effort. At least she had gotten herself out of it without any damage.
She was still lost in thought as she pulled into the driveway of her little cookie-cutter home. Her address might not be in Hyde Park or Tarrytown or any of the other wonderful neighborhoods she’d love to live in, but it was hers—and the bank’s.
She wondered for a moment where Mr. Trenton James Laroquette, Esquire, lived. She could only imagine. Probably in the house of her dreams.
Well, wherever he lived, the fresh coat of paint she’d put on last year still looked good and other than the fact that the yard was overdue to be mowed, the place was neat and tidy.
The first thing she did after opening the door was flip on the air conditioner. It was one of the few luxuries she afforded herself, and her standing rule was to turn it on when she got home in the evening and leave it on until she left for work the next morning. It was a little stuffy now, but the house would be blessedly cool for the rest of the night.
As she headed through