More Than Friends (17 page)

“His charms, huh? So, he’s too good-looking and the old biddies don’t trust him?”

“Exactly. But he jumped right in and is already organizing a new outreach for the less fortunate.”

“The homeless,” Evelyn said, meeting Melanie’s eyes. “She doesn’t like that term so she calls them less fortunate instead.”

“Well, not having a home is certainly unfortunate,” she said, her overly agreeable tone meant to convey her amusement to Evelyn.

They spent the remainder of the meal talking about Margaret’s church activities, including an invitation for Melanie to join them for Sunday services anytime she wanted to. She gave the appropriate responses, involving herself enough to be polite. But mostly she found herself watching Evelyn interact with her parents, trying to read the minute changes in her expression or figure out the meaning behind the nuances in her voice. She’d learned a lot about Evelyn by the time Margaret served the made-from-scratch lemon-meringue pie.

Margaret and Evelyn fell into reminiscing about Evelyn’s childhood, as families sometimes do when a new audience is available. She’d heard some of the stories before and some were new. Margaret talked about Evelyn’s circle of friends and their exploits, most of which involved mild rebellion and the usual high-school drama.

She boasted about Evelyn’s athletic prowess, recalling her feats on the soccer field and softball diamond while in high school. Melanie snuck glances at Charles during the tales and wasn’t surprised to find pride shining in his eyes as well.

“She was extremely competitive,” Margaret said.

“I know the type,” Melanie replied. She’d been practically married to one.

“No,” Charles said, drawing three sets of eyes. “Dedicated.”

“That’s what I said,” Margaret said.

“She wasn’t simply competitive. She was dedicated to her team and their success.” His serious expression indicated that he drew a clear distinction between the two.

As their only child, Evelyn had obviously been the center of their world. Melanie got the impression that Evelyn’s relationship with her father became more complicated only after she graduated from high school. Despite their professional differences, Evelyn and her father loved each other, and her mother tried to balance delicately in the middle.

*

“Dinner was delicious, Margaret.” Melanie folded her napkin and placed it on the table next to her plate.

“Thank you. Evelyn, you should bring Melanie by again soon. I’ll make meatloaf.”

“My mother’s meatloaf is world-famous. She won’t even tell
me
the secret ingredient.”

“Maybe on my deathbed.”

“Mom!” Evelyn refused to think about losing her parents. Though in their late fifties, they were in good health. But their parents, her grandparents, had all passed away while relatively young.

“If I tell you, you might make it yourself and you won’t need to come over anymore.”

Melanie laughed. “Not likely.”

She glared, but Melanie just smiled in response. So, her culinary skills might be a little lacking. She passed two Subways, a KFC, and her favorite Chinese take-out place on the way home from work anyway. Besides, she used to eat at Kendall and Melanie’s at least one night a week, and Melanie was an amazing cook. She made a mental note to talk to Melanie about starting that tradition again.

“I’ll just have to hope she meets a nice young woman who will cook for her, then.”

Her mother had come a long way since she’d come out to her after high school. Their relationship had been strained for quite some time. But now, like Melanie’s mother, her own simply transferred her criteria for a son-in-law onto a hypothetical daughter-in-law. “She has to cook now, too? This list is getting long. I don’t know where to find this superwoman.” She met Melanie’s eyes and smiled.

“Since you brought it up, have you been seeing anyone new?” Margaret asked.

Her amusement from a moment ago shifted into something heavier, and Melanie’s gaze seemed as muddled as she felt inside. She didn’t want to see anyone new; she wanted the woman sitting across from her now—the one woman she shouldn’t desire. “Uh—no, Mom, I’m not.”

“I’ve heard that Internet dating is the popular thing these days. But girls, please be careful if you try that. I saw a very disturbing story on
20/20
and—well, it can be dangerous.”

“I’m not meeting people on the Internet.” In truth, she wasn’t meeting anyone at all. If she didn’t count Tiffany, and she didn’t, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d met someone new. She’d tried dating a district attorney but found that having the job in common wasn’t always a plus, at least not if it was the only thing they had in common. The prosecutor was hot, but all she wanted to talk about was the scumbags she put in jail all day long. Evelyn loved her job, but she didn’t want to come home and wallow in the darkest parts of it. She wanted her relationship to be a bright light, a shelter from the worst of humanity that she saw every day.

“I’m only asking you to be careful.” Her mother made a similar request nearly every time she visited, sometimes in reference to her job and sometimes her safety in general. Once she’d even cautioned her about the hidden dangers of BPA in plastic food-storage containers. Evelyn welcomed the warnings, which had started when she entered the police academy, as evidence of her mother’s love and concern for her.

“I’m always careful.” She heard the disappointment in her own voice. Melanie had asked for her friend back and she tried like hell to honor the request, but in truth, the more time they spent together, the more Evelyn wanted to give her, to share with her. She could see them here again, making sexy eyes across the table, each anticipating what they would do to each other when they got home. Her face grew hot and, trying to cover up the blush she knew spread up her neck and over her cheeks, she fumbled to her feet. “I’ll clear the table.”

“Evelyn, may I have a word with you?” Her father stood as well. His request was firm and not the least bit questioning.

“I, uh—” She stopped, holding her plate limply.

“Go ahead, dear. I’ll get these.” Her mother took the plate from her, leaving her no choice except to follow her father into his office.

When they stepped inside she caught the familiar faint odor of his favorite cigar. She didn’t have to look at the mahogany bar in the corner of the room to know there would be a crystal decanter of his favorite scotch. Her father was an old-fashioned man, so much so that she swore he secretly referred to the room as his study. The brown leather sofa and deep-green wallpaper hadn’t changed since they’d first moved into the house when she was a child, and a part of her found that sameness comforting.

As he crossed to pour himself an after-dinner drink, she sat on the sofa. “What’s up?”

“Your mother told me about Melanie and Kendall.”

She nodded, not sure where he was going with this.

“You should tread lightly.”

“Tread lightly?”

“Yes. Kendall is a loyal friend and you wouldn’t want to jeopardize that relationship.” He stared into his glass as he casually swirled his drink. When she didn’t respond right away he met her eyes. She clenched her teeth. She’d seen that sharp look before, at the moment when he knew he had the upper hand with a witness. “Don’t worry. I don’t think either Melanie or your mother suspects anything.”

“There’s nothing to suspect.” She didn’t let on that Melanie was more aware of the situation than he thought, preferring to let him focus singularly on her. To most people her expression wouldn’t betray the lie. She’d mastered that particular skill quite well during her years as a police officer. But her father’s ability to read faces was exceptional, so much so that his prey generally didn’t realize they’d been found out until they’d revealed a valuable nugget. Knowing this about her father made Melanie’s ability to conceal her emotions even more impressive.

A small smile twitched at the corner of his lips. “I’ve watched that face since you were a little girl, Evie. I know when you’re hiding something.”

She couldn’t remember the last time he’d used that endearment, and a pang of nostalgia broke through her guard. “It’s under control.” She resisted the urge to call him “Daddy,” as Southern daughters were prone to do.

“Make sure it stays that way.”

She hadn’t let him tell her what to do since she’d entered the police academy against his wishes, and she resented the authority in his tone. But she withheld the defensive argument that pushed against the back of her teeth.

“I didn’t try to sway you when you ‘came out’ to us.” The exaggerated air quotes annoyed her.

“I guess telling you I didn’t want to go to law school at the same time served a purpose then.” He’d found that piece of information much more upsetting than news of her sexual orientation. But then again he’d never really had to face her sexuality. She didn’t talk to her father about who she dated, and she’d never brought anyone home to meet her parents.

“Getting involved with Melanie would be a bad idea.”

“I know.”

“So be careful.”

She nodded. “Like I told Mom, I’m always careful.”

She ignored his doubtful expression and strode out of the office, trying to exude more confidence than she felt.

Chapter Fourteen

“Thanks for today,” Evelyn said as she walked Melanie to her front door.

Melanie unlocked the door and entered, leaving it open as an invitation for Evelyn to follow. Though spending too much time with Evelyn was dangerous, she sensed she might need to talk about the visit with her parents.

“Did I distract him sufficiently?” she asked over her shoulder as she passed through the living room and into the kitchen. From the foyer, she heard the front door close and waited to see if Evelyn had left.

“Maybe too well,” Evelyn said as she paused at the entrance to the kitchen and rested her shoulder against the archway.

“What was the secret conference in the office all about?” She opened a bottle of her favorite Riesling and pulled two glasses off the rack under the cabinet.

“Actually, it was about you.” When Evelyn reached for the glass she offered and their fingers touched, Evelyn’s smooth nails tickled her sensitive fingertips. She simultaneously fought her urge to pull her hand away and her desire to tangle her fingers around Evelyn’s. In the end she released the glass slowly, relishing the warm brush of skin on skin.

“Me?”

“Yep.” Evelyn took a sip of the wine, but her eyes never left Melanie’s face. “He warned me not to act on my very obvious attraction to you,” she said quickly, as if forcing the words out, then assessing her reaction.

“Really?” She kept her voice casual, but Evelyn’s statement sent arousal vibrating through her like the taut string of a crossbow.

“Yeah.”

“How did he—”

“He observes people for a living. And he’s particularly good at reading me.”

“I wouldn’t like knowing someone could see through me like that.” She led Evelyn back into the living room and they settled on the couch with their wine.

“Try growing up with him.”

“How was it, really—growing up? Your relationship with him now has always been clear. But I get the impression things were different when you were younger.”

Evelyn sighed and set her glass on the coffee table. “I remember sitting in that office and watching him work. I have no idea why I wasn’t bored to death, but I could spend hours in there. I loved listening to him practice his closing statements, the passionate way he wove the stories. My mother hated him letting me in there.”

“Considering the kind of people he might represent, I imagine she was worried about the effect of the harsh tales of their crimes.”

“Alleged crimes,” Evelyn said sarcastically.

“Of course.”

“In the beginning I was too young to understand what he was saying anyway. Then when I was a little older, I became conflicted by my admiration of his quick mind, coupled with disdain at how he could twist logic to suit any argument without regard to what I believed his values to be.”

“He’s a brilliant attorney, which is what often causes the problems for the two of you.”

“How so?”

“You respect his talent and intelligence, but you don’t like his vocation. And he wants so badly for you to be like him, but he can’t see that you don’t have to walk in his footsteps to do that. You’re already as quick and as bright as he is, but you use your talents differently.”

“Yeah, for good instead of evil.”

She smiled. “Something like that.”

“He may be arrogant, but in this case, I’m more annoyed because I know he’s right.” Evelyn shifted forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “I keep telling myself that thinking about you the way I have been crosses a line in my loyalty to Kendall. But ignoring the way I feel hasn’t helped make it go away. I’ve been trying like hell to figure out a way to think of you as just a friend.” Agony laced Evelyn’s voice and brought an ache to her heart. Everything about her posture and tone suggested that she felt alone.

Melanie touched Evelyn’s shoulder and she flinched, but she didn’t move her hand. Instead, she rubbed Evelyn’s back in a slow circle. She needed to let Evelyn know that she wasn’t the only one struggling with this attraction. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Evelyn’s head dropped, hanging in front of her, and she shook it slowly. “Don’t tell me that.”

“Why?”

“I’m trying to stay sane and I can’t—”

She leaned closer, sliding her arm around Evelyn. She lifted her chin with gentle fingers and forced her to meet her eyes. “You can’t what?”

Evelyn bit her lip as if she could trap the truth behind such a tenuous seal. “I can’t be around you without wanting you. Hell, I want you even when I’m nowhere near you.”

Should she play it cool—act like she could be unemotional and platonic? She searched Evelyn’s expression, trying to discern what she needed. If she were detached, would this be easier on Evelyn? In the end, the velvet need in Evelyn’s eyes decimated her. She didn’t want to release Evelyn. She wanted to shut out that rational voice and give in to the insane urge to kiss one of her closest friends—consequences be damned.