“I’ll talk to him. I’m sure I can smooth things over,” Destiny said.
“Please, no,” Melanie insisted. “You’ve done enough. You got me the interview in the first place. I’m the one who blew it. Maybe I can think of some way to salvage things.”
“I’m sure you can,” Destiny said with an encouraging smile. “You’re very clever at such things. I knew that the moment we met.”
“We met when I dented your rear fender,” Melanie reminded her.
“But it only took a few minutes for you to convince me it was time for a new car, anyway. You had me on the dealer’s lot and behind the wheel of my snappy little red convertible within the hour, and I’m no pushover,” Destiny asserted.
Melanie laughed. “Who are you kidding? You were dying to buy a new car. I just gave you a reason and steered you to a client I knew would give you a great deal.”
“But don’t you see? That’s exactly what marketing is all about—convincing people to go ahead and get something they’ve wanted but haven’t thought they needed. Now you merely have to convince my nephew that he—or, rather, Carlton Industries—can’t live without you.”
An alarm suddenly went off in Melanie’s head at Destiny’s slip of the tongue. She studied the older woman warily, but there was nothing in her friend’s eyes to suggest duplicity. Still, she had to ask. “Destiny, you’re not matchmaking, are you?”
“Me? Matchmaking for Richard? Heavens no. I wouldn’t waste the energy. He would never take my advice when it comes to matters of the heart.”
She made the protest sound very convincing, but Melanie didn’t quite buy it. Destiny Carlton was a kind, smart, fascinating woman, but she clearly had a sneaky streak. She also adored her nephews. Melanie had picked up on that the first time they’d met. Destiny had gone on and on about their attributes and how she despaired of ever seeing them settle down. Who knew what she might do to get them married off?
“I’m not in the market for a husband,” Melanie told her firmly. “You know that, don’t you?”
“But you are in the market for a challenging job, right? That hasn’t changed?”
“No, that hasn’t changed.”
“Well, then,” Destiny said cheerily. “Let’s put our heads together and come up with a plan. Nobody knows Richard’s weak spots better than I do.”
“He has weaknesses?” Melanie asked skeptically. He’d struck her as tough, competent and more than a little arrogant. If there was a chink in his armor, she hadn’t spotted it, and she was well trained to spot flaws that the media might exploit and see that they were corrected or hidden from view.
Destiny beamed at her. “He’s a man, isn’t he? All men can be won over if the tactics are right. Have I told you about the duke?”
“The one who chased you all over Europe?”
“No, dear, that was a prince. This man—the duke—was the love of my life,” she confided, her expression nostalgic. Then she shook her head. “Well, that’s in the past. Best not to go there. Let’s concentrate on Richard. There’s a little cottage on the river about eighty miles from here. It’s very peaceful. I think I can get him down there this weekend.”
Melanie eyed her friend warily. She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of this. The last time she’d trusted Destiny’s instincts over her own, look what had happened.
“And?” she asked cautiously.
“Then you show up with some of his favorite gourmet food—I’ll help you plan the menu—and your marketing plan. He won’t be able to resist.”
There were so many things wrong with that scheme, Melanie didn’t know where to begin. If doing a presentation in a restaurant was awkward and unprofessional, then chasing the man to some out-of-the-way cottage was downright ludicrous and rife with the potential for disaster.
“If he goes there to relax, won’t he be furious if I intrude?” she asked, trying to curb Destiny’s enthusiasm for the idea.
Destiny waved off her concern. “He doesn’t go there to relax. He goes there to get more work done. He says it’s less noisy than his place here.”
“Then I’ll still be an unwelcome interruption,” Melanie protested.
“Not if we get the menu exactly right,” Destiny said. “The way to a man’s heart, et cetera. I have a few bottles of his favorite wine right here. You can take those along, too.”
Melanie wasn’t convinced. “It seems a little risky. No, it seems a lot risky. I am not one of his favorite people right now.”
Her comment fell on deaf ears. “Anything worth having is worth a little risk,” Destiny said blithely. “What can he do? Slam the door in your face? I’ve raised him better than that.”
That didn’t sound so awful. Melanie weighed the prospect of facing Richard’s annoyance once again against the possibility of getting a dream contract for her new company. Landing Carlton Industries would be a coup. Helping to shape Richard Carlton’s first run for political office would be an even bigger one, especially if he won. In this politics-happy region where candidates from every state in the country abounded, she’d soon be able to name her own price.
Making her decision, she gave Destiny a weak smile. “Okay, then. What am I serving?”
Three large hampers of food arrived at Melanie’s small home in Alexandria’s Delray neighborhood not far from historic Old Town at two o’clock on Friday, along with a heavy vellum envelope addressed in Destiny’s elaborate script. Melanie regarded it all with grim resignation. This was really going to happen. She was really going to invade Richard Carlton’s privacy and try to convince him that he needed her—professionally, at any rate.
As soon as the uniformed chauffeur bowed and left, Melanie’s assistant and best friend slipped out of the office that had been created from what was meant to be the master bedroom in the 1940s-era house, peeked into the wicker baskets crowding the foyer, then turned to her.
“Wow, Mel, is someone trying to seduce you?” Becky asked, clearly intrigued by the excess.
“Hardly,” Melanie said. “In fact, I’m pretty sure the hope is that I’ll seduce Richard Carlton.”
Becky gave her a hard, disbelieving look. “I thought that meeting went really, really badly.”
“It did. But his aunt seems to think I can salvage it, if I just ply him with food and alcohol in a secluded little cottage by the sea.”
Becky, who had solid business instincts under her romantic facade, didn’t seem impressed by the theory. “And how exactly are you supposed to coax him into going there with you?”
“Destiny is taking care of that.” Melanie slit open the envelope, read the message, glanced at the two sheets of typed instructions included, then sighed.
“What’s that?” Becky asked, eyeing the papers with suspicion.
“My marching orders,” Melanie said wryly. “She even thought to include cooking instructions. She must know about my tendency to burn water.”
Becky chuckled, caught Melanie’s sour look and immediately sobered. “Since you’ve apparently bought into this idiotic scheme, then I think it was very thoughtful of her.”
“I’m sure she was just thinking of her nephew’s health.”
“Tell me again why she’s so determined to