Isn't It Rich?

Unfortunately, he lifted a brow at her response. “Really? Everyone tells me he’s pretty, but not too bright.”

There was no mistaking the derisiveness in his voice. That “pretty” label sealed it.

Melanie refused to be daunted by his attitude. “Maybe I’m not interested in holding a conversation with him,” she suggested.

Richard merely laughed. “You’re going to have to do better than that, sweetheart. One rule of thumb when you’re lying, you have to make it believable.”

“I’m not surprised you know that,” she muttered.

He ignored the gibe. “Come on, kiddo. On your feet. The exercise will clear your head, maybe get all those hot thoughts of your young stud muffin out of your brain.”

Melanie sighed. He was right about one thing—she really did need a blast of cold air. Maybe then she’d stop making an idiot out of herself. It was not the best way to get Richard to take her work seriously.

* * *

Richard couldn’t recall the last time he’d gone for a walk in the snow just for the sheer fun of it. Of course, in this case it was also a way to get out of the house and away from those wayward thoughts he was having about the impossible woman staying with him. The fact that she’d tried to sell him a bill of goods about that insipid reporter suggested she was aware that the temptation was getting too hot to handle, too.

Outside, though, the air was crisp and cold off the river. The sky, now that the storm had ended, was a brilliant blue. The sun made the drifts of white snow glisten as if the ground had been scattered with diamonds. He was glad he’d thought to put on his sunglasses. Of course, the almost childlike excitement shining in Melanie’s eyes was just as blinding, and the glasses couldn’t protect him from that.

When they’d left the house, she’d been totally guarded, most likely because of his teasing. Now all of that seemed to be forgotten. Every two feet, she paused to point out some Christmas-card-perfect scene.

“Look,” she said in a hushed voice, grabbing his sleeve. “A cardinal.”

Richard followed the direction of her gaze and found the cardinal, its red feathers a brilliant splash of color against the snow, a holly tree as its backdrop. Its less colorful mate was sitting on a tree branch, almost hidden by the dark green leaves and red berries. The birds were common, but Melanie made it seem as if this were something totally special and incredible. Her enthusiasm was contagious.

Melanie sighed. “I wish I had my camera.”

“We can pick up one of that throwaway kind at the store,” he suggested.

She looked at him as if he’d had a divine inspiration. “Now?” she asked with so much eagerness that he laughed.

“You are so easy to please,” he teased. “A cheap camera and you’re a pushover.”

“I’ve decided to go with the flow today,” she informed him.

Now there was a notion he could get behind. “Oh, really?”

She frowned at him in mock despair. “Not that flow,” she scolded.

He shrugged. “Just a thought.”

She gave him an odd look. “It’s not as if you really want to seduce me,” she said with surprising certainty. “So why do you say things like that?”

“What makes you think I don’t want to seduce you?” In truth, the idea had been growing in appeal by leaps and bounds.

“You’ve admitted as much,” she reminded him. “Not that I think you’d turn me down if I agreed to take you up on it, but you’re really flirting to annoy me.”

Richard wondered about that. He seemed to be taking the idea more and more seriously by the minute. Melanie wasn’t his type, but there was something about her, something refreshingly honest and open and enthusiastic. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d encountered that particular combination, much less been drawn to it. Maybe Destiny was right about that much, at least. Maybe he was ready for a change in his life, a spark of excitement and a few heady thrills. It would beat the mundane existence he’d been telling himself he was perfectly contented with.

He glanced at Melanie, noting the expectant look on her face as she awaited a reply to her challenge. “Maybe I am trying to annoy you,” he agreed. “Then again, perhaps I’m just trying to prepare you for the moment when I make my first totally irresistible move.”

She blinked at that, but then a smile broke across her face. “I don’t think so,” she said with complete confidence.

Vaguely disgruntled by her conviction, he asked, “Why not?”

“Because you don’t play games. You take life far too seriously to be bothered with them.”

His gaze narrowed. “Destiny’s theory again?”

“No, my own personal observation,” Melanie assured him. “I’m a good judge of people. That makes me an excellent public relations person, because I know how to make the public see what I see.”

Richard was more curious than he’d expected to be about her perceptions. “What would you make them see about me? Not that I’m stuffy, I hope.”

“No, I’d emphasize that you do take responsibility seriously, that you’ve worked hard at Carlton Industries and would work just as hard for your constituents. Those are good, solid recommendations for a candidate.”

“I thought you didn’t think I’d be a viable candidate because I hadn’t walked in the shoes of those who’ve struggled,” he reminded her.

She shrugged. “Maybe you convinced me otherwise.”

“Or maybe you want this contract so badly, you’re willing to say whatever it takes to get it,” he said with an edge of cynicism.

She stopped in her tracks and scowled at him. “If you believe that, then you don’t know me very well,” she said, sounding genuinely miffed. “I don’t work for anyone I don’t believe in.”

“You don’t know me well enough to believe in me,” he countered.

“Actually, I think I do. After your aunt suggested we meet, I did a lot of research before I agreed. I talked to people. I read everything in print. I wanted to be sure that Destiny wasn’t being totally biased about your capabilities or your honesty and integrity. She wasn’t. You’re a good man, Richard. The consensus on that is unanimous.” She gave him a considering look. “Whether you have what it takes to win an election is something else entirely.”

Richard bristled at the suggestion that he wasn’t up to the challenge of running for office or winning. “What is it you think I might be lacking?”

“An open mind,” she said at once.

He started to argue, then saw exactly the trap she’d laid for him. “Because I made up my mind about hiring you before we’d even met,” he guessed.

“That’s one reason,” she agreed. “And because now that we have met, you can’t divorce my professional capabilities from the fact that I’m a woman who rattles you.”

“You don’t rattle me,” he claimed, doubting whether he sounded the least bit convincing.

She regarded him with amusement. “There’s the first real lie I’ve heard cross your lips.”

“That you know of,” he said, not denying that he’d lied in that instance. She did rattle him, no question about it. He’d just hoped to convince her otherwise. The woman saw too darn much. He didn’t like it that she could get into his head. He prided himself on keeping most people off guard and at a distance. That kind of safety suited his comfort level.

“The first lie,” she insisted.

Richard sighed. “Okay, say you’re right about that. Say I’m addicted to telling the truth and that you rattle me, so what?”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” she said more cheerfully.

He stared at her in confusion. “Where?”

“You’re very close to admitting that you’ve been mule-headed and stubborn and that you will read my business proposal when we get back to the cottage.”

He regarded her incredulously. “You got that out of my admission?”

She grinned. “Brilliant, aren’t I?”

He laughed despite himself. “Not necessarily brilliant, but sneaky. You’re a lot like my aunt, in fact.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He sighed. “To be honest, I’m not sure you should.”

* * *

Melanie was feeling confident and in control when they sat down to lunch at a small café in the center of town. She was finally making progress. Maybe coming all the way down here hadn’t been such a harebrained idea, after all. If she’d done this well before the man had even eaten, just think what she could accomplish once a crab-cake sandwich, some coleslaw and homemade apple cobbler with ice cream had improved his mood.

He gave her an odd look as she ordered the hearty lunch, then chuckled. “Trying to ply me with food, so I’ll be in a more receptive frame of mind?”

“It did occur to me,” she said. “Of course, you don’t have to have what I’m having. And lunch is on me, by the way. I’m wooing a prospective client.”

“I’m buying,” he contradicted for the waitress’s benefit. “As for the meal, I have to have what you’re having if I expect to have the energy to keep up with you.” He gave the amused waitress a conspiratorial wink. “Same thing for me, along with the strongest coffee you have.”

The older woman grinned. “Honey, we don’t serve it any other way.”

“Too bad you’re not running for office here,” Melanie said when the woman had gone to place their order. “You’d have her vote locked up.”

Richard sighed. “It’s not supposed to be about charisma.”

“It’s not supposed to be, but it is, at least in part,” she argued. “A dull man with a good message can get elected—it’s just harder. You have both. Why not capitalize on it, instead of pretending that one thing doesn’t matter?”

“In other words, I’m not going to get out of kissing babies and shaking hands,” he said.

“Few politicians get elected without doing both,” she said. “People want to see that the man they’re electing is real, that he’s human. They like to look him in the eye and gauge for themselves whether he’s honest. They like to know that his handshake’s firm.”

Funny thing about that, Richard thought, falling silent. More than once he’d been accused of not being human—by competitors faced with his hard, cold stare during negotiations, by women who’d hoped for more from their relationship. He’d come to accept that there was something missing inside him, some connection he’d lost when his parents had died. Once, he’d despaired of ever getting that piece of himself back, but now, looking at Melanie, feeling her vitality and warmth touching him, he had a feeling he might be able to get it if only he reached out.

Then he immediately shook off the fanciful notion. Melanie was here for one reason and one reason only, to strike a deal with him. Not to heal him. Like so many others, she simply wanted something from him. He didn’t dare lose sight of that, despite the fact that he’d managed to veer her away from her mission on more than one occasion since her arrival.

Her fingers skimmed lightly across the back of his hand, startling him.

“Hey,” she said softly, her expression puzzled, “where’d you go?”

“Back to reality,” he said grimly.

Before she could ask the question that was so obviously on the tip of her tongue, their lunches came. Richard had never been so relieved by the sight of food in his life. He bit into his crab-cake sandwich with enthusiasm, but noted that it was some time before Melanie finally picked hers up, as if she couldn’t quite get past his sudden shift of mood and all the questions it raised.

Once she’d tasted the crab cake, though, her attention was totally focused on the sandwich. “Terrific crab, don’t you think?”

He nodded. “Even out of season and frozen, it’s delicious. Better than any I’ve had at some of the finest seafood places in Washington.”

“Wonder what that spice is?” she mused, taking another taste. “It gives it a little kick.”

“Given your avowed inability to cook, what difference does it make?”

“For something this good, I could learn,” she insisted. “I’m not totally hopeless.”

“Why bother, when you can just come here?”

“It’s not like I get down this way all the time,” she said. “In fact, I’ve never been to this part of Virginia before.”

“Now that you know about the crab cakes, I’ll bet you’ll be back,” he said. “Who knows, maybe I’ll even invite you.”

“I could probably starve before that happens,” she said. “Maybe they’d ship them up to me. Even I could be trusted to cook them, if they’re already prepared.” Her expression turned wistful. “It would be so nice not to eat every meal out, at least if I want anything edible. Nuking a frozen dinner doesn’t do it for me, except in an emergency.”

Richard could relate to that. He ate far too many of his own meals at his desk or in restaurants, except on those occasions when Destiny commanded his presence at her table. She was an excellent cook, when she took the time to do it, and it had spoiled him for anything less than the best. The conversation around her table was also lively and challenging, even when it was a simple family meal with his two brothers. They didn’t get together for those meals nearly often enough anymore. He needed to change that.

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