The miniature pirates, legs swinging wildly, began chanting, “Pizza! Pizza!”
The magic words brought a waitress to their sides.
“Good afternoon, and welcome to Kidstravaganza. My name is Veronica and I’ll be your hostess.”
Melodie was of the uncharitable opinion that Veronica’s too-sweet smile just might put her in a sugar coma. The thought was immediately followed by a frown. She was rarely catty, so she couldn’t figure out what had made her react that way. It surely couldn’t be the admiring glances being cast in Trenton’s direction. Admittedly, he looked incredibly attractive in his disheveled state, but even if Veronica was flirting with him, what did that matter to Melodie?
It didn’t matter at all, as a matter of fact. If Veronica the bimbo wanted to play goo-goo eyes with Trenton, then she could just knock herself out. Melodie refused to make a fool of herself for any man, especially one as unattainable as this rich lawyer guy. If she was on the hunt, which she most certainly was not, she knew better than to pick someone so completely opposite from her type. And Mr. Perfectly-Pressed-Suitand-Tie was definitely not her style.
Before she realized it, pizza and salad had been ordered without her input and Veronica was sashaying away.
“—hope that’s all right.”
“What?” she asked, trying to focus on Trenton’s words.
“I said, you didn’t say anything while I was ordering so I hope pepperoni pizza and a pitcher of cola is all right with you.”
“Yes, that’s fine. I would rather have had iced tea but that’s okay.”
His forehead furrowed. “I’m sorry. I’ll call her back-”
“No. That’s okay. It’s not worth the hassle.”
“Yes, it is, if that’s what you want. I should have gotten your attention sooner.”
A headache was building behind her right eye. “I said it was all right. We’re talking about a glass of tea here, not a new car.”
“Melodie—”
“For heaven’s sake! Does anyone ever argue with you?” she snapped as she pressed two fingers against her closed eye.
He was obviously taken aback.
“That’s what I thought. Look, Trenton the Valiant, if I was determined to have the stupid drink, I’d let you come to my rescue and reorder. So can we just drop it?”
“Certainly.”
A glance across the table told her she’d just insulted the man again.
She sighed. “I apologize. That was unfair. I know you don’t know me very well, but I’m not usually this grumpy.” In the time it had taken her to argue with him, the pain in her head had gone from a twinge to near agony.
He must have heard the sincerity in her voice for his body language changed immediately. “Please don’t give it another thought. I can see you’re not feeling well.”
“Are you all right, Miss Melodie?”
Melodie forced a smile for Amber’s sake. “I’m fine, sweetheart. My head just hurts a little bit.”
“Do you have a sperin?”
Trenton looked at Amber, frowning. “A what?”
“An aspirin,” Melodie supplied. “I have some medicine in my glove compartment. I’ll go get it in a minute.”
“I’ll collect it for you,” Trenton said as he stood. Joey had given him the key, and they had the locker open before Melodie could protest.
“It’s all right, really. I’ll go out in a minute.”
She had no intention of telling him she’d rather endure her headache than have him get a close-up look of her car. Right behind that thought came the taunt of: why should she care what he thought of her car? And on the heels of that came the brilliant final thrust of: she just did, that’s why.
Her protest proved unsurprisingly futile as she watched Trent leave the building. The children were quiet, their little faces serious.
She smiled again. “Hey, guys, I’m fine. Don’t look so glum. It’s just a little headache.”
The reassurance didn’t work. She didn’t get them to smile at her until Trent handed her the bottle of medicine and she swallowed a pill.
“See, all better.”
Freed from their concern, the kids dug into the newly arrived pizza. Melodie tried, but it would be a while yet before she could eat. More unnerving than the headache—which would dissipate as soon as the medicine hit her system—were Trent’s assessing glances over the table.
“Please don’t be concerned. I get these all the time. I’m feeling much better.” She couldn’t explain why she felt the urge to reassure him.
“I’m glad.” He looked at her again, his expression unfathomable. “You, Miss Allford, are a mass of incongruity.”
Surprise set her back in her chair. “What makes you say that, Mr. Laroquette?”
“I can’t read you very well, and that bothers me.”
“So is this a crime punishable by jail time, or merely a fine?” A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
“No crime, just a surprise.”
“Oh, good. I like surprises.”
He glanced at her sharply. “I don’t.”
“Really? Why?”
He studied her for a long moment but didn’t answer. She felt compelled to cover the silence.
“I guess I’m probably your worst nightmare, then. I’ve been told by more than one person that I absolutely defy logic.”
“I think that’s a female prerogative.”
“Oh! Already on to the sexist comments.”
“No, just a statement of fact. And I didn’t say it was a bad thing. It’s what makes women such wonderfully complex, stimulating creatures.”
Melodie knew she should be feeling the politically correct righteous anger that his statement ought to invoke, but somehow she knew that he meant it as a compliment. Her gut told her this man was a Southern gentleman. She’d bet her bottom dollar that he would treat any woman as his equal in the business world, but he still opened doors and held coats and walked dates to their doors. She personally felt there was room to be strong and still be feminine. The two were not mutually exclusive.
“I’m not the only incongruity around here,” she shot back, breaking out of her reverie.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. You’re quite an enigma yourself.”
“So I guess we’re both intrigued.”
“Possibly, but I have to be honest and tell you that I feel you’re being coerced into including me on this project.”
“I—”
“Uncle Trenton, Joey’s sticking his tongue out.”
“Am not!”
“Are, too!”
“Hold it, guys,” Trenton interjected before an all-out brawl ensued. “What’s going on?”
Joey lowered his eyes to the table. “Nothing.”
“Uh-huh,” Amber argued. “He was bein’ gross.”
“Joey?” Trenton waited, a wealth of questions behind the simple name.