“That wouldn’t have been fair. We’re partners. Your viewpoint is important.” Damn him for making sense when she wanted to be mad. “Besides, until I heard your thoughts, I had no way of knowing if we could work them in or not. But maybe we can do a short lead-in about the monetization of the holiday, and play that against the rest of it.”
So she was stuck working hip to hip with Jace with no means of escape. She didn’t want to like him. She didn’t want to think about him. God, she was so screwed. “I guess all that’s left is to decide how we’re going to find the lovey-dovey couples to interview.” She rolled her eyes. “Talk about finding a needle in a haystack.”
“Love,” Jace said with a smug grin, “is everywhere. It certainly will be easier than finding a needle in a haystack.”
“No. We’ll find couples who profess they are in love, but none of them will be honest with us about their relationships.” Melanie was getting a headache just thinking about it. “We’ll hear how their lives are like a fairy tale, how life without the other would be painful and empty. They will probably be gooey-eyed and hand-holding and all of it will be fake. Bleh.”
Jace chuckled. “I can’t wait to prove you wrong.”
“Won’t happen. Impossible.”
“You never know. You might walk away a changed woman with a completely different opinion on Valentine’s Day and love.” He shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.”
Her mother’s romantic disasters made even the possibility of that nil. “Sorry. What you see is what you get,” she said, mimicking Jace’s earlier statement. “Accept it, Jace. Otherwise, you’ll only end up disappointed.”
Leaning back in his chair, Jace gave her a considering look. “Feel like gambling on that, Mel?”
What was he up to now? “What do you mean?”
He squeezed his fingers together. “A little bet between coworkers. I’m willing to gamble that your mindset on love—romantic love, that is—will change at some point during the course of this project. If I’m right…you’ll agree to go out on a date. With me.”
She almost laughed. There was a greater chance of the weather turning wonky and snow falling in mid-July than there was of her losing her marbles and jumping on the I-will-love-you-forever bandwagon. Especially in a six-week timeframe. “Um. That’s not a bet, Jace. Not when there is zero possibility of that happening.”
“I’d say you’re afraid the possibility does exist. Otherwise, you’d have already agreed.”
“If I agree, and I’m not saying I do, what do I get if I win?”
His brow furrowed. “How about you get a romantic evening with me?”
Now, she did laugh. “Nice try, but let’s go with ‘no’ on that one.”
“All right,” he said easily. “What do you want?”
The answer came to her immediately. “A picture of you in your Snuggie. And if Kurt agrees, the picture runs for a full month alongside your columns.” Placing both hands on the desk, she angled her entire body forward. “I choose the pose and the setting of the photograph. I’ll promise the shot will be tasteful, but anything else is up to me. What do you say to that?”
The slightest flicker of apprehension sifted over Jace. Truly, she didn’t think he’d go for it. After all, he had his playboy image to maintain. She started to pull away, when his hands came down on hers. “I don’t like to lose. Be sure you’re up for the challenge, Mel, because I won’t make it easy on you.”
Ha. This wasn’t a challenge. “Oh, I’m up for it. The question is, are you?”
“I’m not only in, I can’t wait to get started.” Lifting his hand, he tugged gently on her hair. “In the meantime, I’m going to start planning our date. And I can promise you a night you’ll never forget.”
“Uh-huh. You do that, Mr. Confident. I’ll start thinking up fun and interesting Snuggie poses.” Finally, it was her turn to wink. “You are so in trouble.”
“Maybe,” he agreed, seeming all too pleased with himself. “But then again, maybe I’ll win. There is at least a fifty-fifty shot of this going my way. Pretty decent odds.”
Just that quick, some of her confidence evaporated. A wary signal bleeped in her brain, reminding her that she had to be very, very careful around Jace Foster. He was a man who made her want what she didn’t believe in. And that, she knew, could lead her down a road she’d prefer to avoid. At all costs.
Chapter Three
Hours later, Melanie let herself in at her mother’s house and went to start dinner. They’d developed a routine over the years, one that included eating a meal together at least once a week. More often when one of them needed extra support.
Sure, the weight of that “extra support” landed more often on Melanie’s shoulders than vice versa. But that didn’t matter. They were a team. Had been ever since the day David Prentiss decided that family life didn’t agree with him and walked out on his wife and daughter, never to look back. Melanie had been seven. Old enough to have memories of her father but young enough to get used to life without him.
In her mother’s seventies-era kitchen, Melanie grabbed a box of dried pasta and a jar of tomato sauce from a cupboard. She’d found her mom in here that morning, she recalled, sobbing over a half-eaten toaster waffle. Loretta had cried for the better part of a year, though after that first morning, she’d attempted to hide her tears from Melanie.
But closed doors, running water and a loud television weren’t enough to cover the sounds of grief. Nor did the layers of carefully applied cosmetics mask swollen eyes.
Late one night about eight months into it, Melanie crawled into bed with her mother. She’d wrapped her arms around her, holding her tighter than she ever had before, and they’d cried together. As far as Melanie knew, that was the last time her mother had shed a tear over David Prentiss. She knew for certain it was the last time that she had.
Melanie glanced at the clock. It was Tuesday, which meant Loretta closed shop at six and would be home by six-thirty. After filling a large pot with water, Melanie set it on the stove to boil. She unscrewed the jar of sauce and dumped the contents into a saucepan before preheating the oven for the garlic bread. A few minutes later, she was chopping vegetables for a salad.
She wasn’t expected to prepare dinner, but sitting around and waiting for her mother to come home and cook seemed wrong. With the salad ready and in the fridge, the pasta boiling and the sauce simmering, Melanie dropped into a chair to relax. Hopefully, the evening wouldn’t be another rehash of her mother’s newest failed relationship.
Melanie had lied to Jace earlier when she said she’d never suffered from broken-heart syndrome. Her heart ached every time her mother’s did. It killed Melanie to see the pain her mom went through. Maybe, she thought, this would be the last for a while. Maybe she’d be able to convince Mom to take a hiatus from dating.
Lost in thought, she jolted when her cell phone rang. Probably Mom, calling to see if she needed to stop and pick anything up. Without looking at the display, Melanie said, “We’re all set unless you want dessert. And dinner should be on the table in like ten minutes, so I hope you’re on your way.”
The words were barely out of her mouth, when she heard the front door open.
“Dinner, eh? I thought you’d never ask, darlin’.” Jace’s deep voice emanated through the line. “Sounds great. Where at?”
Ugh. What was he calling her about? “Obviously, I thought you were someone else. And you’re not invited to dinner. Sorry for getting your hopes up.”