She's Got the Look. Leslie Kelly
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would have a lot to be cocky about, right?
But she didn’t like it…she’d never liked arrogant men. Which was good. Because she needed to find things she didn’t like about this man, and fast. She could start by amending the rules of the list, by adding a cocky out-clause. Otherwise, she could end up making a fool of herself by oh, say, asking him if he wanted to retreat to the nearest hotel.
He stirred his coffee. “Judging by the look in your eye, I’d say Rosemary told you who I really am.”
Melody closed her eyes and counted to three, clenching her fingers together in her lap. The man knew she knew he was the Time magazine hero. Meaning Rosemary had to have told him. But please, oh, please, God, she couldn’t have told him about the list. She wouldn’t have, right? Rosemary was her best friend. She wouldn’t have.
If she had, Mel was going to die. Collapse right across the table and land face-first in his nice, hot, steaming cup of coffee and die.
“I guess we didn’t get off to the best start, huh?”
“I’ve always thought it was the finish that mattered,” she mumbled before she thought better of it.
“Don’t tell me you’re leaving already.” With a boyish smile that suited the way a thick, dark lock of his hair fell over his brow, he added, “Can I confess I’m surprised you came anyway, despite my, uh, disreputable appearance the first time around?”
“Disreputable?” Shock made her eyes widen. “No, you weren’t disreputable looking at all.” Heroic, admirable, determined and courageous were more like it. How could he possibly think a little dirt and some blood would make him look disreputable when he’d been holding three children whose lives he’d just saved?
“Not at all,” she repeated, not wanting him to think he had reason to be embarrassed. Lord, there went the whole cocky out-clause, because the man obviously had no idea how amazing that picture had really been. Or how it had affected her.
“You do know who I am, right?”
She swallowed hard. “Yes. Sure. I mean…who doesn’t?”
His brow shot up in surprise and his head tilted to one side. “Really? You think I’m that easily recognizable?”
The man had been the hunk of the known universe six years ago on the cover of one of the most widely circulated magazines in the world. Of course he was recognizable! “Hate to break it to you, but yes, you are.”
Her answer didn’t seem to make him feel any better. He rubbed a hand across his smooth jaw and muttered, “I must be losing my touch.”
Goodness, he really was feeling bad about that. As if he wasn’t happy being recognized as a national hero.
And suddenly, she thought she understood. Hadn’t she hated being recognized for one photograph that didn’t represent the real person she was inside? The journalist who’d taken this man’s picture and circulated it around the world had caught only one moment, one selfless act. There was a lot more man here to be seen. A lot more man.
Like there was a lot more woman to Melody than was revealed in that horrid peacock-feather ensemble. Not physically, since almost all of her body had been revealed. But emotionally.
“I think I understand,” she said, wanting to comfort him, to let him know he really wasn’t alone in what he was feeling. “We all project an image for the world to see. It can be a little disconcerting when someone sees the person behind the mask.”
“Or the person beneath the dirty clothes,” he said with a rueful laugh. “For the record, I do bathe regularly.”
Huh? He was embarrassed because he hadn’t been able to bathe in the middle of a war-ravaged battlefield? Good Lord, her first instincts had been way off base. Far from being cocky, this man had hardly any self-confidence at all!
“You really don’t have to make any excuses to me, Nick.” Almost unable to help it, she reached across the table and touched the back of his hand. She’d meant to be consoling, comforting. That would have seemed strange if she were reaching out to the big, strong, larger-than-life man who’d been on the cover of the magazine. But she was reaching out to the nice, low-confidence guy she’d been speaking with.
Somehow, though, she realized that the big, sexy stranger was the one she was touching the moment their hands connected. Because as soon as her fingers brushed against his skin, something snapped and sparked a reaction, surprising her. She suddenly got all hot and flustered, though the room was cool enough.
He was so warm, that was it. The electric warmth of his skin had just taken her by surprise. But his next move nearly made her come right out of her seat. He turned his hand a bit, so he could scrape the tip of one finger on the fleshy pad of her palm, and the touch was so unexpected, so…personal, somehow, that she could barely remember to breathe.
She finally pulled her hand away, reaching for her water glass in a stall for time. After swallowing, she admitted, “You should never make excuses for doing something heroic. Something wonderful. You stepped in and helped when others wouldn’t.”
Looking at him, she noticed the confused expression on his face. As if he couldn’t quite figure her out. Shrugging his shoulders, he said, “It wasn’t that big a deal.”
“Yes it was a big deal.” Hadn’t the whole world thought so?
“I mean, it wasn’t like it was that heavy a load.”
Three small children might not have weighed a lot in terms of pounds, but the responsibility for them must have been an enormous weight. “I don’t agree with you there.”
He sipped his coffee. “I’ve lifted more at the gym.”
“Well, of course you have,” she said, “but nothing that was so important. So critical.”
He frowned and his jaw tightened. Suddenly he looked more the dangerous marine and less the guy-next-door. “It really was that critical? Was it all you had?”
She didn’t follow.
“I mean, I don’t know the whole story, but did you really end up with nothing but a couple of mattresses and some chairs?”
Now she was completely lost. “What?”
He put his hands up, palms out. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. It’s none of my business.”
The hands-off gesture seemed familiar. It tugged something in her memory, but she was too focused on his odd words. Was he talking about furniture, when she was talking about orphans?
Suddenly he laughed. “I guess it’s a good thing you started out with the mattress. I don’t think that box spring would have been as comfortable to land on face-first.”
“The mattress…”
The word dying on her lips, Melody froze. In a second everything clicked into place. Somehow managing to keep her mouth from falling open in utter shock, she stared at him, finally seeing what she should have seen the minute he’d sat down.
Add a rough beard and some dark glasses, mess up his hair and throw him in filthy clothes, and he became the stranger from the street. The one who’d kept the cop from towing her truck. Who’d hauled her furniture up several flights of stairs. Who’d stepped in when she’d been ready to collapse in exhaustion and fear that Bill was never going to let her get on with her life, since he’d come to harass her in Savannah that very morning.
“Um, will you excuse me for a minute?” she mumbled, already rising to her feet. Without waiting for his answer, she beelined straight to the ladies’ room, went inside and locked the door behind her. Leaning her forehead against the doorjamb, she sucked in a few deep breaths and took it all in.
The guy she’d wanted so desperately at first sight all those years ago wasn’t simply a gorgeous fighting man, not just a war hero. No, he was also her personal one. At least, the closest thing to a