She's Got the Look. Leslie Kelly
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were…until I met that Braves player.” Rosemary’s smile was definitely catlike. “Speaking of our lists, I’ve kept my copies of all of them. I even dug yours out, Mel, once I knew you were divorcing the dick with the drill and coming home.”
Grunting, Melody said, “Well, someone talking about me having sex is about as close to a sex life as I’ve had in a long time, so I guess I can’t gripe about it.”
The middle-aged owner with thinning dark hair walked by just in time for that comment; his speculative look made her grab for her margarita.
Tanya shuddered. “Quick, Paige, find Mel’s list. If there’s anybody who needs to get laid in this town, it’s her.”
Wrinkling her nose, Melody ignored her friend. But Paige had already started flipping through the notebook. “Oh, my,” she said. “Jonathan Rhodes…there’s a blast from the past.”
Glancing over her friend’s shoulder, Melody scooted her chair around to get a closer look. “Yikes. I forgot about him. He sure didn’t last long in Washington.”
“Probably only a bit longer than he lasted in the hooker’s bed,” Tanya said. “He didn’t even run for reelection after he got caught in that police raid at a sleazy hotel. He came back here to Savannah and returned to his law practice.”
Rosemary nodded, a speculative look in her eye. “Hmm…so he’s still around. A definite possibility, Mel.”
Melody shook her head. “Not happening. Even if the list was serious—which it’s not—I’m not interested in sex. I’m not feeling very charitable toward men right now.”
“Which is why you need to think like a man,” Rosemary said. “Go out and live a little, take what you can get. You might not have meant it the night we wrote these down, but you can mean it now.” Leaning forward, Rosemary continued almost fiercely, “Live, Mel. Get back to being the happy, confident girl you were that night and don’t let the bastard you married cause you one more minute of pain or self-doubt.”
Rosemary was the languid one, not the passionate one, so Melody was somewhat taken by surprise. It said a lot about how worried her friends were, which touched her. Deeply.
Knowing, however, that Rosemary was involved in a somewhat serious on-again, off-again romance, which she was keeping pretty close to her vest, Melody didn’t believe her friend was living by her own advice. But she had once. And it didn’t appear to have hurt her. So maybe…
No. She needed sex like a nun needed edible underwear.
Before Rosemary could keep arguing, Paige yelped, “Oh, yikes, this guy—number five—didn’t fare so well. Chef Charlie of Chez Jacques died about a month ago, in his own restaurant.”
“I heard he got drunk and choked on a meatball,” Tanya said. “Sounds like that man swallowed some dumb-ass pills first.”
“Creepy,” Paige said. Then she made the sign of the cross.
Tanya rolled her eyes. “You’re not Catholic.”
“It seemed appropriate.” In typical Paige fashion, she allowed herself to be completely distracted by a random thought. “Why do you think he was making meatballs? Isn’t Chez Jacques a French place? Do they serve meatballs? Is Charlie a French name?”
Tanya gave Paige an impatient glare. Then she pointed at the notebook. “Who else did Mel list?”
Yeah, who else? Melody had been so focused on her rocky marriage and horrible divorce for such a long time, she hadn’t thought about the list in ages. She didn’t even know where her originals were and had to read over Paige’s shoulder to remind herself who she’d once wanted so badly.
When her gaze fell on the name of a golfer who’d had a chance in the PGA some years ago, but had quickly fizzled out, she gasped.
“What?” Rosemary asked.
“You’re not going to believe this, but Kenny Traynor, that golfer who was supposedly gay? He was all over the news in Atlanta last month. He was killed in a weird accident in the locker room of the country club where he was a golf pro.”
They all fell silent as the reality sunk in. Two of the men Melody had joked about sleeping with had died since that night. Young men, healthy men. Paige was right…it was creepy.
Suddenly looking relieved, Paige smiled. “But number four—Drake Manning, the reporter—is still around. He’s an anchor on Channel Nine. And his hair hasn’t moved since you left.”
“He’s a pig,” Tanya said, her mouth tight.
Paige continued before Melody could question Tanya’s comment. “Now we come to number one, which was why I brought our lists. I saw this on eBay and had to get it for you.”
Reaching into her bag, Paige retrieved a plastic-wrapped magazine. Melody recognized it—and the picture on the cover—immediately. It was her marine, the one who’d saved the children. Her number-one fantasy man.
“You sure were drooling into your burrito when his picture came on the TV screen that night. Wasn’t she?” Paige said.
Tanya nodded. “Uh-huh! That boy was fine.”
Rosemary, for some reason, remained silent, just staring at the picture, a half smile on her lips. Melody couldn’t blame her. She was enraptured by the photo on the magazine, too. “Oh, my God, I hope I didn’t jinx this guy.”
“It would have made the news,” Paige said. “He was a Georgia hero. We would have heard if he hadn’t made it back.”
She prayed Paige was right. Because she’d hate to think of this particular man meeting some strange fate like the others.
The picture was every bit as dramatic—as compelling—as it had been that night six years ago. More so, really, since she was a woman now, not an immature girl, as she’d been when she got married. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the hunger.
The sudden flash of want surprised her. But it was there…strong, insistent. She was attracted to this stranger like she hadn’t been attracted to anyone in a long time.
“He looks familiar for some reason,” she murmured.
“Well, duh, of course he looks familiar,” Paige said. “You only lusted after him more than any guy you’d ever seen.”
“I know that. But there’s something else. I just can’t quite put my finger on it.” The little flash of intuition, recognition or memory disappeared as quickly as it had popped into her brain. “I wonder what happened to him after…”
“You have to go to the police.”
Shocked by Rosemary’s words, Melody just gaped. “Huh?”
“I mean it. Two out of five men on your list have died, both very recently. Both right here in Georgia, and under strange circumstances. We’re calling the police.”
Melody was shaking her head throughout Rosemary’s spiel. “That’s utterly ridiculous. This has nothing to do with me.”
Ignoring her, Rosemary reached for her cell phone. “I know someone on the Savannah PD.”
Though outwardly scoffing, a hint of concern did go through Melody’s mind. Still, she insisted, “I can’t do it. I’m not going to tell some cop that men I once wanted to have sex with are dropping like flies throughout the state of Georgia.”
“You sure won’t get a date that way,” Paige offered.
“Hush up, Paige,” Rosemary said. “Mel, I am not kidding. You just came through a divorce with a husband out for revenge.” Her eyes widened. “Bill knew about this list! I remember it came up during one of my visits to Atlanta a few years ago. He was joking about it, while you seemed to have forgotten the whole thing.”
She had almost forgotten about the list,