Leslie Kelly

She's Got the Look


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that was the reason Rosemary hadn’t been any more forthcoming about her romance. She wondered if Paige and Tanya knew Rosemary was involved with the marine hero’s partner, but figured not. Paige couldn’t keep a secret longer than six-and-a-half minutes. And Tanya would never have let Rosemary get away with this morning’s setup. “I knew she was seeing someone but never knew who. I’m sure she figured I had enough to think about.”

      “Ahh.”

      Then, curious, she said, “You’re not freaking out that I thought you were gay.”

      “No, I’m not.” He sipped his coffee, not quite successful in an attempt to hide a chuckle. “Unlike you.”

      “I was embarrassed,” she mumbled.

      That cocky look returned as he smoothly seized the chance to take the upper hand. “You were upset at the idea, Melanie, admit it. Upset and disappointed.”

      “My name’s Melody.” Somehow, down deep inside, she grabbed hold of a bit of strength. Giving him a look of disdain that had reduced international designers to stammering little boys, she added, “You’re very amusing, but I absolutely was not upset, or disappointed. Now, I do have to go.”

      Oh, that had sounded good. Perfect. Just the right tone and the right expression and now she could exit stage left and forget this disconcerting conversation had ever taken place.

      Only, something funny happened. Funny strange, not funny ha-ha. Because instead of looking deflated or resigned, Nick Walker was smiling. A big, huge, good-ol’-boy smile that lit up his amazing eyes and brought out two enormous dimples in his cheeks.

      God, what a smile.

      What a smile? The question should be why a smile! She’d insulted him.

      “Melody, huh? A very unusual name. And you’re Rosemary’s best friend?” he said, laughter in his voice. “I should have known.”

      Her heart rate kicking up a notch, Mel whispered, “Why?”

      “Well,” he replied with that boyish grin still glued to his face, “because I’ve heard about you. Rosemary does like to throw her parties, and yes, indeed, I do believe your name has come up a time or two when I’ve been at her place.”

      Dead? Did she say Rosemary was dead? That wasn’t good enough. Eviscerated…that might do. For a start.

      She didn’t want to know, even though the curiosity was gnawing at her stomach with painful intensity. Slowly rising, she gave him a noncommittal smile. “Really? How funny. Well, it was nice meeting you, and I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

      The man didn’t rise. He just sat there, looking up at her. Then he slowly shook his head and tsked. Actually tsked!

      “What?” she snapped.

      “Seems to me,” he said, “you’re going about this all the wrong way. Getting up and running isn’t exactly going to get you what you want.”

      She closed her eyes briefly, willing him not to mean what she suspected he meant.

      “Because, honey, if you’re supposed to be working on me, you really ought to stick around.”

      Her jaw clenched. “Working on you?”

      Slowly—as if intentionally drawing out her torment—he rose from his chair, unfolding himself with unconscious grace and simmering sexiness. He stepped closer, around the table, until they stood toe-to-toe. Nearly hip to hip. Almost chest to chest and definitely breath to breath—if, of course, she ever remembered to start breathing again.

      Then he laughed—a low, sultry sound that slid across all her nerve endings—and said, “Well, yeah, we haven’t even named the place yet.”

      Dread filling her mind as much as his sultry, masculine scent was filling her head, she bit out, “The place?”

      He nodded, stepping even closer until their chests did meet and her nipples tightened in a sudden, instinctive response. “You know,” he said softly, for her ears alone. “For us to get workin’ on that list of yours.”

      Oh, God.

      “After all,” he continued, “if I’m the number-one man on your sexual-fantasy list, I think we’d better go someplace a little more private.”

      NICK COULDN’T REMEMBER the last time he’d been so amused, aroused and intrigued by a woman all at the same time. Melody…this friend of Rosemary’s with her sassy ponytail and her pouty, kissable lips and those deep blue eyes…she amused him for sure. And she aroused him nearly out of his mind.

      As for intriguing him? Well, she’d been doing that for ages, since long before he’d ever set eyes on her. Now that he knew who she was, he had the feeling there wasn’t going to be any way to shake off this hunger except by giving them both what she’d once claimed to most desire.

      “You’re deranged,” she whispered hoarsely.

      “Uh-uh. I’ve seen your list.” That was entirely true. He had seen her list—he just hadn’t realized it was hers until a moment ago when she’d revealed her actual name.

      Melody…not Melanie. Not a name he’d soon forget. After all, it wasn’t every day you learned a woman had named you her number-one fantasy man. That’d been the intriguing part.

      “You’ve seen it?” Her jaw dropped. He reached up and touched her chin with his finger, stroking the soft skin there the tiniest bit as he tipped her mouth closed. Her face was incredibly soft, perfectly smooth. Sensual to the touch.

      Melody’s eyes widened even more as she stared directly into his, not having to tilt her head back too far to do so. Reminding him that she was tall. Perfect. They were so very close. He could lean a few inches and catch that mouth in the kind of kiss that would make them both weak in the knees.

      If only they weren’t entirely surrounded. But they were, and that knowledge gave him the strength to step away.

      “Rosemary wouldn’t have…”

      “I don’t think she meant to. She was digging for hers to annoy Dex and yours kinda fell out. It was sort of an accident, and I only caught a little glimpse.”

      “An accident? How can someone accidentally show the world her best friend’s sexual-fantasy list?”

      Ahh. He had her. “So you admit it?”

      Her jaw tightened. “I’m not admitting a thing.”

      “You said you were mad at Rosemary for talking about your sexual-fantasy list.”

      “That was a ‘just supposing’ type of thing. As in, just supposing I did have such a list—which I don’t—there’s no way my best friend would share it with anybody, much less you.”

      He shrugged. “But she did.”

      She looked ready to growl, but before she could say anything, a loud throat clearing interrupted. That’s when he realized they’d stopped talking in whispers.

      “You are a jerk,” she muttered.

      “And you are a liar.”

      Her jaw clenched. “Well, then it’s a good thing we’ll never be seeing each other again.”

      Shaking his head, he shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that.” Finally, unable to keep teasing her, he laughed. “Come on, ease up, I’m giving you a hard time. I know the list is a joke.”

      Some of the tension eased out of her body. “You do?”

      “You really think I believe women sit down on the night before they’re getting married and give themselves permission to cheat?” Then, thinking of his own ex-wife, he qualified that. “I mean, normal women?”

      “It was a stupid game,” she mumbled.

      “I know.”

      “Never