Meltdown (12 page)

Yet he couldn’t forget the warmth in her eyes when she’d thanked him for lying, or the sweet laughter in her voice when she talked to Einstein. Or the way his body reacted when he even thought about touching her.…

Crazy! that’s what he was. Shaking his head at his folly, he started down the hall toward Einstein’s room. A relationship with Melanie would tax his willpower to the limit. She’d probably make him wait two months before she’d let him kiss her good night. He thought about the soul-spinning sample she’d given him last night, and doubted he’d be able to wait two days, much less two months. This gentleman thing was vastly overrated. He slumped into the chair in front of the monitor. “I ought to have my head examined.”

Einstein’s audio antenna pivoted sharply.
Perhaps you’re coming down with something.

“What? What are you talking about?”

Illness
, Einstein suggested.
Digital heat sensors indicate temperature fluctuation in your abdominal region.

I’ll just bet they do, Chris thought. “Sorry, E, but
my ‘temperature fluctuation’ has nothing to do with illness. At least, not the kind of illness you mean.”

A large question mark appeared on the screen, followed by the word
Define.

“I’ll do my best, bud, but I don’t think it’s been programmed into your circuitry. You see, I like Melanie.”

I like her too.

“Sure you do, but it’s not the same. It’s a human feeling. A man/woman thing.”

Gender specific?

“Very specific.”

Einstein’s screen went blank, signaling internal processing. He was thinking—thinking in the electronic sense of filing, sorting, and analyzing—over what Chris had said. A moment later the screen lit up with his single-word conclusion.

SEX.

Chris did a double take. “You know about that?”

Affirmative
, Einstein answered.
Melanie told me. Wanted to enhance my understanding of human relationships.

Chris leaned closer to the monitor screen. “Did she now. And what, exactly, did she say about … er, human relationships?”

At Chris’s request, Einstein began to scroll a multipage file across his screen. Chris’s jaw dropped. It was a collection of some of the most sensuous sexual fantasies he’d ever seen. If they’d been printed on paper, they would have set the page on fire.

“Break!” he cried. “Melanie programmed that into you? I don’t believe it.”

If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’
, Einstein asserted.
Are you going to have sex with Melanie?

“Whoa, you don’t beat around the bush, do you? Well, my metallic goomba, let’s just say it’s been on
my mind. But it’s tricky. I don’t want to screw up our friendship.”

Sex screws up friendships?

“Sometimes.”

Then why, he asked logically, have sex at all?

Chris grinned. “Someday I’ll explain it to you. But right now let’s go back to that scroll.…”

Melanie leaned back against the passenger seat of Chris’s convertible and stared up at the luminous sky. The day came right out of a postcard; the kind of brisk, brilliant weather that had lured northern tourists down to Florida for decades, even when the state had little to offer besides oranges and alligators. She could count the number of clouds in the sky on one hand. She wished her problems were as scarce.

“How’s your headache?”

Melanie glanced over at the car’s driver, trying not to notice how the sun sent sparks of living light through his windblown hair. Keep it together, she warned herself. Don’t think about him sitting on your bed, or about the way you feel when he holds you. She took a steadying breath. “Much better, thanks.”

“I knew orange juice would cure your hangover,” he said, flashing her an irresistible smile. “One of the benefits of spending one’s teenage years as a juvenile delinquent.”

“I can’t believe you were that bad.”

“I could tell you stories … but then, we all have our secrets, don’t we?”

His words stirred something deep inside her, something so hot and sharp, it made her shift uncomfortably in her seat. A memory bobbed to the surface of her mind, something to do with this car
and Chris and seat belts. Seat belts? Looking at her lap, she saw the hazy image of her own hand drawing Chris’s across her—Oh Lord, how many ways had she made a fool of herself last night?

Keep it together
. “Yes, well, since we have some time why don’t we go over the checklist for our test scenario.”

Chris groaned. “Not again.”

“Yes, again.” She reached into the carton near her feet and pulled out a clipboard, relishing the sanity of its hard, uncompromising edges. “We’ll be at the office in a few minutes and—hey, you passed it.”

Chris drove on as if he hadn’t heard.

“Chris, we just passed the office. We’ll have to turn back at the next intersection.”

“We would, if we were going to the office.” He looked over at Melanie and smiled a thoroughly wicked grin. “I guess I ought to tell you. You’re being kidnapped.”

“What did you say?”

“Kidnapped, Melanie. I said kidnapped. You know, what pirates do to defenseless, young vir—”

“I
know
what it means,” Melanie stated, trying to keep a cool head. A delicious terror raced through her and settled in her abdomen. There was no way Chris could know what the mention of kidnapping and pirates did to her, how it brought to mind images of one of her most sensual fantasies. She’d never told anyone about it—except Einstein, and he didn’t count.

She grasped the hard edges of the clipboard, fighting for composure. This was not the time and definitely not the place to let her raw emotions get the better of her. She took a sobering breath, then stated in a remarkably steady voice, “We don’t have time for … detours. We have to test Einstein’s remote terminal.”

“All we need for E’s test is a phone jack and a wall plug. I guarantee to provide you with both before the day is out. Trust me.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot lately.”

“And I’m going to keep on saying it until you start doing it. Sit back and relax, genius. Today
I’m
taking control of this project.”

Melanie wasn’t used to taking orders, especially where Einstein was concerned, but Chris’s tone didn’t invite argument. Besides, she wasn’t sure she was capable of arguing with him. The events of the morning had sent her usually organized mind into a processing loop. Nothing made sense. The more times she went over Chris’s actions—from his abrupt departure from her bedroom, to his disturbingly arousing “kidnapping”—the more confused she became. Her overwhelming physical reaction to him only served to muddy the waters.

Things became no clearer when, a few minutes later, Chris turned into the parking lot of Ron Jon’s Surf Shop. Ron Jon’s whimsically art deco building was the beachcomber’s mecca, famous for having everything necessary to enjoy a day at the beach except water.

“Wait here,” he told her as he closed the car door behind him. “I’ll only be a minute.”

“Why are we stopping?”

Chris rolled his eyes up to heaven. “Lady, you ask a hell of a lot of questions. You’re worse than Einstein.”

“Well, if you would answer a couple, I wouldn’t have to ask so many,” she countered as she put her hand on the door handle. “I’m coming with you.”

“You’re staying here.”

“But—”

“You’re staying,” he said, his eyes locked on hers.

Melanie’s resolve melted. Those gilt-edged, honey-laced eyes held her heart just as a puppet master holds the strings. She lifted her hand from the handle and laid it demurely in her lap. “Okay, I’ll stay,” she said, having little option but to agree.

A corner of Chris’s mouth twitched. “Wise choice. For a minute there I thought I’d have to make you walk the plank,” he said, and started for the shop.

Some pirate, she thought glumly as she watched him disappear into the building. Leaves his victim alone while he buys suntan lotion. Blackbeard must be turning in his grave.

Chris’s desertion was temporary, but it reminded her of how much she’d come to depend on him during these last few weeks. It wasn’t only the help he’d given to Einstein. Chris’s good humor, his instinctive business sense, and most of all his outrageous sense of fun had opened a window in the dark and dingy attic of her life. The thought of being without him, even for a few minutes, started a cold and lonely ache inside her.

Get used to it, warned her logical side. In less than a week her partnership with Chris would be history. She had tried to turn it into something more and failed miserably. Next Wednesday he’d give their presentation to the board. If everything went as smoothly as she logically anticipated it would, she would have her funding, and he’d have his promotion. They’d both get what they wanted. Wouldn’t they?

She shifted in her seat, finding the soft leather suddenly uncomfortable. But a new position couldn’t take away the ache inside her. Why couldn’t Chris have turned out to be the cold, heartless playboy she’d first supposed him to be? Why did he have to be the sweetest, most considerate, and the hands-down sexiest man she’d ever known? Why did she have to go and fall head over heels in—

No! She would not let herself fall in love with him. She wouldn’t. Loving him would make the pain of his leaving unbearable. Only foolish mathematicians tackled problems that had no solutions. “Two times
two is four,” she mumbled, clinging to the cold equations as if her life depended on them. “Two times three is six.”

She finished the two-times table, and the three-times table after that. She looked at her watch. Ten minutes had passed, and Chris was still in Ron Jon’s.

“We haven’t got all day,” she growled, using anger to mask her misery. What was he doing in there? What was so important that it couldn’t wait until after Einstein’s tests?

There was only one way to find out. Risking the plank, she left the car and walked up to the glass front of the store. She glanced through the window on her way to the front door—and froze.

Chris was standing at the counter with his arm around a young, extremely attractive blonde. His back was to Melanie, but from the way he was holding the woman she doubted he’d have seen her even if she were standing right in front of him. Melanie watched as he bent down and whispered something intimately into the woman’s ear. The blonde dissolved into charming giggles, and Melanie felt a knife go through her heart.

A minute later Chris came out of the store and found Melanie waiting in the car just as he’d left her. He tossed the small, securely wrapped package he carried into the backseat and opened the driver’s door. “Don’t ask me what’s inside,” he warned her as he got in. “It’s a surprise.”

“I think I’ve had enough surprises for one day,” she answered dryly.

Her tone puzzled him. Chris looked over, but Melanie had turned away, apparently studying the passing scenery. He shrugged, reasoning that she was probably still sore at him for making her stay in the car. He thought about the present he’d bought
for her, and smiled. He’d change her mood. Chris intended to change a lot of her attitudes before this day was over.

They drove on in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Chris turned his car off the main highway and onto a private road that wound like a twisting ribbon along the edge of the beach. Several simple but elegant beach houses lined the waterfront, spaced far enough apart so as not to disturb the wildlife of the area. Melanie looked out at the dunes and rye grass, occasionally catching glimpses of the gleaming water beyond. Sea gulls wheeled overhead, crying to each other in their shrill, oddly melodic voices.

Despite her mood, Melanie smiled at the off-key symphony. It had been months since she’d visited the beach, and she’d almost forgotten how much she loved it.

Chris turned down a brick-lined drive and pulled up in front of a white, single-story structure. It was a newer home and its clean lines echoed the simplicity of the sea. White wood trim framed the tall windows, while the bright morning sun glinted off the panes.

“We’re here,” he announced.

Melanie looked at the house, thinking how easily it blended into the natural beauty of the landscape. Its owner had taken a great deal of care with its design. “Whose house is this?”

There was no mistaking the pride in his voice when Chris answered, “Mine.”

“Yours?”

“Yes, mine,” Chris repeated. “What’s the matter? Did you think I’d live in some high-rise bachelor pad?”

“Well, yes.”

“You’ve got a lot to learn about me, Melanie Rollins,” he told her, fastening his golden eyes on hers.

“And the first is that I don’t bring just anyone to my home.”

Melanie swallowed. His words implied a volume of possibilities, possibilities that would have set her soul on fire half an hour ago, before Chris’s visit to his beach shop playmate. But she knew the truth now and was determined not to make the same foolish mistakes she’d made last night. With hard-won discipline she schooled her features into a pleasant smile. “It’s very nice.”

“Nice?” Chris repeated. “Melanie, I’ve brought you to my home. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Half an hour ago it would’ve meant a great deal to her, when she still believed Chris was beginning to think of her as something more than Einstein’s inventor.
Damn
, she thought,
I wish I’d never looked through that window
. But she had looked through it, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t get the image of Chris and the pretty salesgirl out of her head. Last night she had let her desires make a complete fool out of her. She wasn’t going to let it happen again.

“Mean anything? Well, I suppose it means this is where we’re testing Einstein’s hardware. Shouldn’t we get started? Otherwise we’ll be here all day.”

“And you wouldn’t want that, would you?” Chris said with a sigh. He got out of the car and walked over to open her door, wondering what it would take to get her mind off that blasted computer. There had to be a way. Somewhere under that electronics-wiz camouflage was the woman he’d met last night, the woman who had driven him almost crazy with desire. He remembered Melanie’s computer file and took heart.