Isn't It Rich?. Sherryl Woods
I can pay your salary.”
“Then by all means, get down to this cottage and start cooking,” Becky said, snapping the lids on the hampers closed. “By the way, if that pie doesn’t win him over, then the man’s not human. It smells heavenly. I had a candle once that smelled exactly like that, like warm cherry pie just out of the oven. Every time I lit it, I ate. I gained ten pounds before the darn thing finally burned out.”
Melanie chuckled. From the day they’d met in college, Becky had claimed that everything up to and including high humidity caused her to gain weight. She was constantly bemoaning the ten pounds she supposedly needed to lose. The extra weight hadn’t hurt her social life. She had the kind of lush curves that caused men to fall all over themselves whenever she walked into a room.
“Come on, Mel, have a heart and get this stuff out of here,” she begged now. “I’ll hold down the fort for the rest of the day.”
Melanie knew she couldn’t very well back out now. She’d agreed to this crazy scheme. She had to follow through with it, and she might as well get on the road and get it over with. Reluctantly she gathered up her coat, her purse and her business plan for Carlton Industries.
“You’re going to have to help me haul this food out to the car,” she said. “I think Destiny went a little overboard and packed enough for the weekend, not just dinner.”
“Maybe she has high hopes for just how well dinner is going to go,” Becky suggested, struggling to balance two heavy wicker baskets as she followed Melanie to her car.
“Or maybe she’s counting on a blizzard,” Melanie replied grimly. It would be just her luck to get herself snowed in with a man who’d all but said he never wanted to lay eyes on her again. “Have you seen a weather report?”
“Haven’t needed to,” Becky said, gesturing toward the western sky, which was a dull gray, the usual precursor to snow.
Melanie groaned. “Okay, then, if it does snow and I’m not back on Monday, promise me you’ll come and dig me out. Buy a damn snowplow if you have to.”
“Maybe I’ll just wait to hear you confirm that on Monday,” Becky said with a sly grin. “Could be you won’t want to be rescued.”
“Promise me,” Melanie said, gritting her teeth. “Or I swear I will fire you, even if I get this contract and we’re rolling in money.”
“Fine. Fine,” Becky soothed, still fighting a grin. “I’ll come rescue you if you’re not back by Monday.” The smile broke free. “Or at least I’ll tell the cops where to start looking for the body.”
Melanie winced. “Don’t joke about that. It could go that badly.”
Becky’s expression sobered at once. “Mel, you’re really worried about this, are you?”
“Not that he’ll kill me, no,” Melanie said honestly. “But it’s entirely likely that he’ll toss me right back out into the snow and I’ll die of humiliation.”
“Nobody dies of humiliation, at least not in the public relations business. We’re the masters of spin. Remember that. It’s what we do best.”
“I’m sure knowing that will warm me right up when I’m sitting in a snowbank freezing my butt off,” Melanie said.
Becky laughed. “Just keep your cell phone handy so you can call nine-one-one. I hear the paramedics really get off on trying to save people from frostbite in that particular region.”
So much for sympathy and support from the woman who was not only her assistant but her closest friend. Melanie started her car and skidded down her icy driveway till she hit the cleared pavement of the road. She did not look back, because she was pretty certain that traitorous Becky was probably laughing her head off.
* * *
Richard wasn’t at all sure how he’d let his aunt convince him to spend the weekend at the cottage, especially since he’d been down here for a couple of hours and there was still no sign of Destiny. Nor had she phoned. He was beginning to worry. Not that a woman who’d traipsed all over the globe on her own couldn’t handle anything that came up, but she was his aunt. Ever since his parents had died, he’d worried obsessively about everyone who was left in his life. He’d barely been able to watch Mack play professional football because a part of him had been terrified that his younger brother would have his neck snapped by some overly aggressive defensive player. As it turned out, it had been a far less deadly knee injury that had ended Mack’s career on the field. Richard had been the only one in the family relieved to have Mack safely ensconced in the team’s administrative office as a part owner these days.
When Richard finally heard footsteps on the front porch, he threw open the door. “It’s about time,” he groused to cover his irrational concern. Then he got a good look at the bundled-up woman outside. “You!”
“Hello again,” Melanie said cheerfully. “Surprise!”
Richard felt his stomach ricochet wildly, and not in a good way. “What was Destiny thinking?” he murmured, half to himself. She was behind this. She had to be.
As for Melanie, she was obviously a lot tougher than he’d realized. The blasted woman didn’t seem to be the least bit put off by his lack of welcome. She beamed and brushed right past him into the small foyer, peering around at the living room with undisguised curiosity.
“I’m fairly sure Destiny’s only thought was that you’d probably be starving by now,” she said, giving a totally unnecessary reply to his rhetorical question. “She asked me to tell you she was sorry about the change in plans. Something came up.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” he muttered. Then the scent of warm cherry pie wafted toward him. “What’s in the basket?”
“Give me a few minutes to unpack it all and I’ll show you. By the way, there are two more baskets in the car. If you’ll get those, I’ll deal with this one.”
“You could just make your delivery and head back to Alexandria,” Richard said, still holding out hope that he could cut this encounter short.
“On an empty stomach? I don’t think so. I’ve spent the last two hours smelling this cherry pie—I’m not leaving till I’ve had some. There are a couple of steaks in one of the baskets and potatoes for baking, butter and sour cream—which is a little excessive, if you ask me—plus a huge Caesar salad. There are also a couple of excellent bottles of French wine. I’m told it’s your favorite, though personally I think the California cabernets are just as good and far less expensive.”
Destiny at her sneakiest, Richard concluded with a sigh. She’d sent all of his favorite foods, despite her alleged concern about his cholesterol. He picked up the basket and closed the door, then stepped aside to permit Melanie to come all the way into the cottage. “Come on in.”
“Said the spider to the fly,” Melanie said, injecting an ominous note into her voice as she brushed right past him and headed with unerring accuracy right toward the kitchen. Destiny had probably given her a complete floor plan. He couldn’t help wondering if his aunt had also provided a key, in case he tried to lock her protégé out.
He gave Melanie a wry look. “Where we’re concerned, I think you’ve got that backward. I’m the intended victim here.”
“Whatever,” she said, clearly unconcerned. She met his gaze, her eyes a dark, liquid brown. “Those other baskets,” she prodded.
“What?” Richard blinked, then grasped her meaning. “Oh, sure. I’ll get ’em now.” He fled the kitchen and the disconcerting woman who seemed to be taking it over. Maybe a blast of frigid air would clear his head and help him to come up with some way to get her out of there.
Unfortunately, by the time he started back inside, nothing short of hauling Melanie bodily back to her car and turning on the engine had come to him. Since that was pretty much out of the question, he was doomed. A big fat snowflake splatted