Millionaires' Destinies. Sherryl Woods
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have to worry about him,” Melanie said impatiently. “You have to use the media to get your message across, not feed their appetite for intrigue. I thought you’d promised to listen to my advice.”
“I did, which is why we got out of there, so I can listen to what you have to say and hear myself think.” He opened the door of the limo for her. “I’m starved. Why don’t we pick up something and take it back to your place?”
Melanie frowned at the suggestion. “You’re not getting any crazy ideas of a personal nature, are you?”
He laughed. “Several of them, to be honest, but I’ll settle for going over those résumés.”
She shook her head. “You really know how to show a girl a good time.”
“Before you get too huffy, wait till you see what I have in mind for takeout,” he said. “I guarantee you’ll like it better than the rubber chicken on the menu back there.”
“If you say so,” she said, still not entirely convinced that he wasn’t up to no good.
He settled Melanie in the limo, then went up front to have a private word with the driver. When he came back, he said, “He’ll drop us off, then bring back dinner.”
Melanie knew she ought to be ecstatic that they were no longer under Destiny’s watchful eye and were far from Pete Forsythe’s speculative gaze. She ought to be even happier that they were actually going to talk business.
Instead, all she could think about was how dangerous it was going to be for her to be alone with Richard with no one around to stop her if either one of them lost control of their apparently madcap hormones.
“You’re going to want to change out of that dress before dinner,” Richard said the minute they walked into Melanie’s living room.
She gave him a suspicious look. “Oh?”
He grinned. “I’m not telling you to slip into something more comfortable,” he chided. “Though if that’s what you want to do, I won’t object. I have a particular fondness for women in satin and lace.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” she retorted. “I’m thinking a sweat suit.”
To her surprise, he grinned. “Make it an old one.”
“Why?”
“That dinner I ordered doesn’t exactly mix with high fashion. Of course, if you want to live dangerously…” His voice trailed off.
Melanie stared at him. She couldn’t quite get a fix on this oddly playful mood of his. “What on earth did you order?” she asked suspiciously.
“It’s a surprise. I think you’ll be very happy.”
“You don’t know enough about my taste in food to be able to make that claim,” she retorted.
“Sure, I do.”
“How?”
“You have your resources. I have mine. Unless you intend to be totally stubborn, go change. I’ll fix us a drink. Do you have any red wine?”
She actually had several bottles of the wine she knew he preferred. She was not proud of the fact that she’d gone out and bought them, hoping for an occasion like this.
“There’s a wine rack in the kitchen,” she told him. “The selection’s hardly as extensive as what you must have, but there’s bound to be something there that will do.”
Relieved to have him occupied, she fled to her room to change. She abandoned the baggy sweat suit idea—she did have some pride, after all—and settled for a comfortable pair of slim-fitting jeans and a becoming russet sweater.
She was on her way back to the living room, when the doorbell rang. The chauffeur stood on the stoop with two huge insulated bags designed to keep carryout food hot. Melanie stared at the familiar logo on the bags, mouth gaping.
“You ordered barbecue?” she asked as Richard came up behind her and took the bags. “From Ohio?”
“Your assistant said you go into raptures every time you talk about it,” he said. “I figured I owed you something after canceling that meeting. I wanted to make you smile.” He studied her intently. “You’re not smiling yet.”
“Give me a minute,” she said, still wrestling with the appearance of food from an Ohio restaurant on her doorstep as if it were being delivered around the corner. “When on earth did you talk to Becky?”
“About twenty minutes before I had my secretary call and cancel the meeting. Once I spoke with Becky, I wanted to be sure I could pull this off before I had Winifred call you. I knew you’d be disappointed in me, and I wanted to make up for that.”
“Oh, my God,” she whispered. No wonder Becky had been so worried earlier. She’d already spoken to Richard and knew he was planning this extravagant surprise. Becky also knew how Melanie was likely to react to a man who did something this totally unexpected and extraordinary.
Richard studied her with a narrowed gaze. “You’re still not smiling. You do like this barbecue, right?”
“It’s amazing,” she said. “It’s one of the things I miss most about home.”
“That’s what Becky said.”
“But for you to go to all this trouble,” she said, still stunned. “It must have cost a fortune to have this flown in.”
“That’s what corporate jets are for. Next time, we’ll fly over and eat there. You can see your family.”
Feeling totally dazed, Melanie turned around and walked past him. Until this instant she hadn’t comprehended what it meant to be a man like Richard Carlton, a man who could do something this outrageous on a whim. She’d been frightened by her growing feelings for him before. Now she was terrified. It would be way too easy to be seduced by grand gestures like this and forget all about the dangers of getting seriously involved with the man making them.
She sat down at the kitchen table, picked up her glass of wine and took a careful sip to steady her nerves. Richard put the bags on the table, sat down opposite her and regarded her worriedly.
“Are you upset about this? I thought I was doing something nice.”
Melanie met his gaze and finally allowed herself a small smile. “You did. In fact, no one has ever done anything so incredibly sweet and nice and over-the-top for me before.”
“Okay, I’ll confess I’m new to this. Is that a bad thing?” he asked.
“It could be,” she admitted, her smile fading.
“Why?”
“It’s wildly seductive,” she said before she could censor herself.
“Oh, really?” he said, clearly intrigued. “How seductive?”
She gave him a scolding look. “Don’t even go there. I meant that I don’t know what to do with it.”
He regarded her blankly. “Eat it. In fact, if the aroma coming out of these bags is anything to go by, that is definitely what we should do with it.”
“I meant I don’t know how to handle a gesture like this,” she said impatiently. “It’s too much.”
“It’s dinner.”
“From Ohio! From my favorite restaurant, where I used to go with all my friends when we wanted to celebrate a special occasion.”
“Would you have been happier if I’d brought in Chinese from down the block?”
“Not happier,” she admitted. “But that would have made sense.”
He reached for her hand, then pressed a kiss against her knuckles. “That would have been safe, that’s what you