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The Bride Wore Tie-Dye
Pamela Ingrahm
MR. RIGHT, MEET MS. WRONG… . Now that he'd decided it was time to start a family, Trenton Laroquette was searching for exactly the right woman. But somehow his list of suitable candidates had narrowed down to just one: a free-spirited, live-for-the-moment type who was definitely not what he needed. Unfortunately, she was exactly what he wanted… .Of course, even if Melodie Allford was interested in getting married - which she wasn't, thank you very much - she wouldn't choose a buttoned-down businessman like him. Still, she couldn't keep herself from wondering what it would be like to tear off that conservative three-piece suit and get her hands on the gorgeous hunk of man underneath… .



Table of Contents
Cover Page (#ub410e7f8-98ea-5b91-b1a6-b7fe6b647a53)
Excerpt (#uefae7811-e320-5a47-8e80-54c9d804a798)
Dear Reader (#u9b42b72a-a139-5b5b-8a26-f6c379e4a441)
Title Page (#uf6874c34-8bc9-5011-afcd-69615abc7db2)
About the Author (#uc41a134f-ae63-5ff5-91bf-0e24a2d90c1f)
Dedication (#u35cf2981-faaf-516d-b94f-071d57c670ea)
Chapter One (#u36f2135f-b5dc-5196-9530-ba5a99cc7f87)
Chapter Two (#u808600a9-ba61-5afc-b3c6-d598257dea86)
Chapter Three (#u98fdad93-a297-560c-8528-b76cf791cb63)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Trenton’s Smile Knocked Away
What Little Equilibrium Melodie
Had Left.
When his arm suddenly blocked her path, her heart stopped. Then, when she looked up at him, so close to her, it started beating again. Too fast.

In one of those moments usually reserved for the movies, she just stood there, immobilized, staring into his eyes. She waited, expectantly, as he lowered his mouth to hers and claimed her lips in a possessive kiss.

He was always so stodgy, she had been sure he would be as methodical about kissing as he was about the rest of his life.

But oh, no. Here was where the soul of Trenton James Laroquette lived. His lips on hers were an invitation to joy, and his tongue was a gentle, coaxing summons to experience the decadently sensual.

And the summons was so tempting, so irresistible, it scared her to death…
Dear Reader,

The holidays are always a busy time of year, and this year is no exception! Our “banquet table” is chock-full of delectable stories by some of your favorite authors.

November is a time to come home again—and come back to the miniseries you love. Dixie Browning continues her TALL, DARK AND HANDSOME series with Stryker’s Wife, which is Dixie’s 60th book! This MAN OF THE MONTH is a reluctant bachelor you won’t be able to resist! Fall in love with a footloose cowboy in Cowboy Pride, book five of Anne McAllister’s CODE OF THE WEST series. Be enthralled by Abbie and the Cowboy—the conclusion to the THREE WEDDINGS AND A GIFT miniseries by Cathie Linz.
And what would the season be without HOLIDAY HONEYMOONS? You won’t want to miss the second book in this cross-line continuity series by reader favorites Merline Lovelace and Carole Buck. This month, it’s a delightful wedding mix-up with Wrong Bride, Right Groom by Merline Lovelace.
And that’s not all! In Roared Flint is a secret baby tale by RITA Award winner Jan Hudson. And Pamela Ingrahm has created an adorable opposites-attract story in The Bride Wore Tie-Dye.
So, grab a book and give yourself a treat in the middle of all the holiday rushing. You’ll be glad you did.
Happy reading!


Senior Editor
and the editors of Silhouette Desire
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

The Bride Wore Tie-Dye
Pamela Ingrahm



www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

PAMELA INGRAHM
is a native Texan, filled with true Texas pride. She lives in Austin, and is still madly in love with her high school sweetheart. She also says her two children are the greatest kids in the world. Her experiences in over fourteen years as a legal assistant provide just some of her story ideas, and being an accomplished seamstress and quilter take up her “spare” time. “Becoming a published author is a dream come true,” Pamela says, and she plans to keep dreaming for a long, long time.
To my children, the two greatest kids in the world:
April and Mitchell. I love you both very much.

To Barbara: For all your support during the years before
I “made it.” You’ve been the greatest
boss anybody could ever have.

To John, Susan and Diane: Thanks!

One (#ulink_20757410-8936-58ee-96a2-fd34a32ad105)
“Miss Melodie?”
Melodie Allford whirled in surprise at the deep, decidedly masculine tone. On any given day, she heard her name called a hundred times, but the chorus of voices was usually several octaves higher. In fact, the chorus had just gone squealing to the four-through-six-year-old’s playground at Little Angels Day Care, leaving her—and the beginnings of a whopper headache—in blessed quiet to finish stacking the mats.
She took one look at the body that belonged to this voice and decided that yes, Virginia, there was a Santa Claus, and he had been very, very good to this man.
She suppressed a wry grin and decided there was just enough small-town girl in her to be a little dazzled by what she saw. She clutched the tumbling mat to her like a lifeline.
She rarely met the parents of the children she taught dance to, as her classes were over well before pick-up time. This, however, was one father she truly regretted not getting to meet sooner.
He was tall—easily six-three or six-four. Mmm…perfect. At five foot nine, she was hardly a giant, but she liked looking up at her dance partners.
He also had black hair with just a whisper of gray starting to show at his temples. Very distinguished.
And blue eyes. Deep, dark blue, fringed by thick, black lashes. Lashes that most women would kill for. Dark brows that arched like guardians.
Tanned. Not a dark tanning-bed tan, but a warm, I-get-out-in-the-sun tan that his crisp white shirt showed off to perfection.
And what a body! For all that his perfectly proper navy suit probably had a Brooks Brothers or Joseph Banks or heaven only knew what other label in it—which she could forgive this once—the body in the suit was great. It included broad shoulders, a narrow waist and legs she would pay good money to see in a pair of cutoffs. Or better yet, biker’s shorts. In fact, she wondered just what he did to look so mouth-wateringly good. Jog? Swim?
Melodie couldn’t wait until he left so she could check out the rear view.
On second thought, yes, she could. She could stand here and watch him for the next hour. If he’d oblige.
She wondered if his wife appreciated just what she had. Then again—she straightened a little—where was it written that he was married? There were lots of single dads out there these days…
When she realized she had yet to speak to the man, she felt that dratted blush creep up her neck. No doubt, next to her red hair, her usually paler-than-a-bedsheet complexion now looked like an anemic sunburn—as it did any time she got flustered.
“Um, yes, I’m Melodie Allford. Can I help you?”
There. That sounded casual, businesslike and refined. Nothing to reveal her still-erratic pulse.
As if her belated greeting were his cue, he took a step closer and held out his hand. “I’m Trenton Laroquette. Amber Dawson’s uncle.”
Ah, yes. Trenton James Laroquette, Esquire, to be precise. Or so his letterhead had read. Then the man smiled. And Melodie’s knees melted.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, surprised at how flustered she felt by a mere handshake.
Hope sprang eternal in her young heart. Uncle, not dad. No wedding ring, although that was no guarantee. Charming, urbane, handsome.
Hope strangled itself when she realized how she was dressed. Her outfit of white leggings embroidered with pigs, black jogging shorts and a purple tie-dyed shirt was a little wild, even by her own standards. If she dared move the tumbling mat which, for the moment, was an effective shield, she had the sinking feeling Mr. Wonderful would become Mr. Displeased. Somehow she doubted that a guy who looked as if he’d stepped off the cover of GQ would understand how well children responded to outfits such as this. After all, this was a creative dance class…
In fact, the more she thought about it, the more mournful hope’s sigh became. This guy was all Wall Street and black lacquer desks—or whatever passed for uptight-corporate-mogul in Austin, Texas, these days. She doubted he’d have much tolerance for a single thirty-something who spent her days teaching improv dance to little kids and her nights deciding between chicken noodle or vegetable beef. On an exciting evening, she added oyster crackers.
“The pleasure is mine, Miss Allford. I’m sorry for my informal address when I arrived, but Amber only calls you Miss Melodie. Could I inquire if you’ve received my letter?”
Could he inquire? Melodie felt hope give one last kick as it turned up its toes and fell into the grave. She wished he had let her keep her illusions just a bit longer before confirming he was completely uptight. He was probably going to pick a wife who wore little lace collars and blushed demurely at every turn. Not that Melodie was one to cast stones. She blushed all the time—the common curse of a redhead—but never demurely.
“Peanut butter and all,” she said, almost laughing at his confused expression. She decided she’d better cut out the wisecracks. Too many jokes might confuse the poor man. “Your concept for a children’s workout video is interesting, and the role of instructor sounds intriguing, but…”
Her voice faded and her eyes widened when he shrugged out of his jacket and slung it over his shoulder, hooked on one finger. She’d seen it in the movies and thought the move was incredibly sexy. Without a doubt, it was more potent in person.
“Trenton!”
A voice boomed from behind the tall man. Melodie had never been so glad to see Serena, the owner of the day-care center, as she was right now. Serena’s entrance had beautifully covered her momentary gapemouthed loss for words.
“Good afternoon, Serena. How has your day been?”
“Busy. I see you’ve met Melodie,” she said, gesturing with the antenna of the walkie-talkie that was so much a part of her. Melodie thought Serena probably felt naked without it.
“Yes, we were just talking about the video,” Trenton said, casting a polite glance to both women.
We were? Melodie kept her expression carefully neutral.
Serena smiled, obviously glad one task was off her hands. “Great! I’ve got to stop by the baby room, but then I’ll head back to the playground and get T-1 and T-2 ready to go for you.”
When they were alone again, Trenton spoke first. “Could I assist you with these mats?”
“No! Um, I—I mean, thank you,” she stuttered, covering her reaction and clutching the mat even tighter. “It won’t take me a minute to finish.”
“Uncle Trenton!”
The squeal could belong to no one but Amber. She barreled by Melodie, knocking the mat out of her hands and sending it crashing to the floor.
Joey came to a skidding halt behind his younger sister. “Hey, Uncle Trenton.” He glanced at the mat as if wondering whether he should pick it up.
Trenton bent for it at the same time Melodie did, and they knocked foreheads. They both raised fingers to their now-tender temples as Serena came hurrying up behind them. Her hand unit began hissing static, adding to the chaos.
“Serena? This is Ginger. Amber and Joey saw their uncle’s car and took off like jackrabbits. Are they up there?”
Serena keyed her walkie-talkie. “We got ‘em, Ginger. Don’t leave your class. They’re fine.”
“Tell those two rapscallions we’re going to have a little talk tomorrow.”
“Ten-four.”
Amber ducked her head and looked at her uncle from beneath her lashes. With her arms behind her back, she said, “I’m sorry, Uncle Trenton.”
Melodie took the moment to retrieve the mat and place it on the stack against the wall. The damage was done so there was no sense hiding any longer. As she walked back to the center of the room, she watched Trenton bend down on one knee and chuck the little girl under the chin.
“Don’t tell me you’re sorry, you little imp. Tell Miss Ginger.”
“I will. ‘Morrow.”
“Tomorrow, then.” He turned to Joey. “And you, young man—”
Joey’s expression fell. “I’m sorry, too.”
He pulled the boy into a short, fierce hug. “This is hardly the end of the world, guys. It’s only that the school is so big, you can’t just go running off.”
“I know, Uncle Trenton. I’ll apologize after Amber.”
“Good enough. Now, who wants to go with me to Kidstravaganza?”
Melodie rolled her eyes, thinking he might as well have asked who wanted to meet Mickey Mouse. Amber and Joey went into hyperactive mode, jumping and screaming enough to hurt her ears.
Amber suddenly stopped and turned her head from Uncle Trenton to Melodie and back again. “Can Miss Melodie go?”
“Oh, no, honey—” Melodie tried to break in.
“Pleeaase, Uncle Trenton?”
“Honey, I can’t—”
“She read your letter and told me she was gonna call you about the video. You could talk while Joey and I play,” Amber suggested innocently, her eyes as wide as she could make them.
Trenton looked at her and Melodie felt her breath catch.
“Miss Allford?”
“Melodie, please. And really, I can’t. I’m hardly dressed—”
He arched an eyebrow, once again taking in her leggings—pigs and all. “Oh, I think you’d be right at home.”
Darn, and she thought he might not have noticed her attire in the momentary confusion. But as she thought about it, it was her turn to arch a brow. She perceived a challenge in his voice. She could always plead that she had a class to teach, but it would be a lie. And she never lied. She might not always volunteer the whole story, but she never lied.
“Be that as it may, I’m not—”
“Pleeaase, Miss Melodie. Please go with us. It’ll be tons of fun. Please say you’ll go.”
If she hadn’t looked into Amber’s eyes, she might have held her ground, but Melodie rarely stood a chance against a child’s plea or a puppy’s whine. Which was why she avoided pet shops at all costs…
“Oh, all right.”
She knew the effort to have a meeting would be futile. An indoor playground was hardly conducive to business discussions, but she decided Amber’s hug would make the wasted afternoon worthwhile.
“You know Terminator-1, don’t you, Miss Allford?” Trenton asked, ruffling Joey’s hair.
Joey shied out from under the offending hand, trying not to show he liked the gesture.
“And I’m T-2,” Amber piped up, grinning from ear to ear.
Melodie smiled. “Yes, Joey and I have met, and we get along pretty well. Even if he does think dance is for sissies.”
“Really, Joey? I like to dance.”
“That’s not the same, Uncle Trenton. You do real dancing.”
Trent chuckled as he slipped his suit jacket back on, snapping the lapels neatly into place. “I have a feeling that postadolescence will alter your conviction on the subject, but for now, let’s go. We don’t want to take any chances on them running out of pizza.”
Melodie felt another heart tug as Trenton hefted T-2 into his arms. She realized she was holding her breath, waiting for him to scold Amber for wrinkling his suit, and was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t even seem to notice. She glanced down to snap her hip pouch around her waist, thankful her ducked head would hide any revealing expression on her face.
Everyone said goodbye to Serena and moved to the parking lot. A wave of the late June heat rolled off the concrete and hit Melodie like a slap. She stopped in her tracks and heaved a disgusted sigh. She wiped at the sweat already forming on her forehead, betting herself a nickel Mr. Perfect would never be so crass as to perspire in public.
“Hey, Trent. You know that old saying, ‘It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity’?”
Trenton stopped as well, turning toward her. “Yes?”
“Baloney. It’s the heat.”
His laugh was another thing that took her by surprise. It was deep and mellow and wrapped comfortably around her like a soft blanket. She mentally shook her head. Scratch that simile. Make that a cool breeze.
“Would you like to go in one car? That is, if you can stand being in confined quarters with these two miniature whirlwinds.”
She declined politely. “I think I’ll follow. Thanks anyway.” She felt no need to explain to him that one of her rules was to never allow herself to be dependent on another person.
“Do you know where the establishment is?”
“They’re only running advertisements on the television every five minutes. Yes, I know where it is.”
“Good. Shall we meet there in…say, twenty minutes?”
She had the absurd urge to affect an English accent and say, “Right ho, old boy.” Instead, she said, “That sounds great.”
He stopped again and looked at her. “Miss Allford—”
For heaven’s sake, didn’t the man know how to loosen up? They were going to a playground and he was acting as if she were his teacher instead of Amber’s.
“Look, if you keep calling me Miss Allford, you’re going to regret it.”
A mocking smile played at the corner of his mouth. “That sounds vaguely threatening, Miss Allford.”
“There’s nothing vague about it at all, T.J.”
Trenton winced. “I concede the point. Melodie.”
She smiled as she turned, shrugging a shoulder at him. “Good. See you in a few.”
Melodie opened the door to her aging compact and let some of the blisteringly hot air dissipate. Not that it mattered much. Without air-conditioning, the car was always on the wrong side of miserable from June until October. But no use complaining about it. A new car was just going to have to wait until she paid off the new air conditioner she’d bought for the house, figuring driving in the heat was preferable to sleeping in it.
She felt a moment of envy as Trenton and the kids flashed by in a dark blue luxury car, windows rolled up tightly. Then she reminded herself that if the price of owning a nice vehicle was being like Mr. Stodgy, she didn’t want to pay it.
Of course, it was easier to be smug in December…
As they headed out of the parking lot, Melodie pushed away a fleeting wish that she could have changed into something a little less dramatic. But that was water under the bridge. Better to make the best of it and get this over with.

Two (#ulink_5c493195-8600-5ead-bf1d-9d24f9d702f7)
Trenton nodded as the quartet claimed a table in one of the large eating rooms. It appeared they had arrived at a most propitious time. The majority of the day-care groups were leaving, and the after-work crowd had yet to arrive as it was only four o’clock.
The ambiance was exactly as he had expected, which pleased Trenton. He didn’t like surprises.
Behind sound-reducing sheets of clear Plexiglas, parents and other nonparticipants could watch the fun being had on the giant plastic activity centers, each one a different, brilliant primary color.
What made Kidstravaganza unique was its policy of encouraging parents to play with their kids. Of the three sections, only one was designated exclusively for children. The other two were built on a larger scale—still inviting to small folk, but with tubes and entries large enough for an adult to join in.
Amber and Joey were almost beside themselves to go into the play area. Miss Allford…um, Melodie…looked decidedly less enthusiastic than the children, but he sensed mixed signals from her. He could swear that she would love to dive into the vat of plastic balls right behind the first child, so he assumed it was his presence that had her twisting the hem of her tie-dyed T-shirt with a purple-tinted fingernail. He noted absently that the ring finger of her left hand was bare, but he knew in this day and time that didn’t mean much.
He assured himself that his perusal for a wedding band was simply habit, for although Melodie was a beautiful woman, she was a little more…flamboyant than he was used to. He was still surprised at the evolution of his reactions to women over the past year. His criteria had changed into something quite different than when he’d been merely dating. Now that he was almost forty, he was looking for more than a fun evening with a woman. He wanted to find that special someone to love and build a family with.
He noticed that habits barely recognized before bothered him now. For instance, when a woman wore too much perfume. He decided that would upset a baby. Or when someone was too thin. The mother of his children had to be health-conscious, not consumed by dress size. In fact, one of his recent patterns was to take his prospective candidates to functions where children would be present to see how they reacted. He wasn’t vain, but neither was he coy—he knew that in the dating game all parties tended to put on their best fronts and he didn’t want to waste precious time with someone who claimed she loved kids, when in fact, she didn’t.
Looking at Joey and Amber, he knew one thing for certain: he wanted a couple of towheaded imps running around his house, causing general chaos and filling his life the way these two did his sister’s. He had stepped in and helped Bridgette these past few years, but the fact remained that although Amber and Joey loved him, he was only their uncle, not their dad.
Now that Bridgette had reclaimed her confidence and joy, he was sure she wouldn’t stay in Austin forever. He expected an engagement announcement from her and Glen any day, especially with Glen making noises about moving with his job. Trenton liked the guy, and it didn’t hurt that Glen adored Bridgette and doted on Joey and Amber.
He glanced at Melodie and wondered how she felt about kids. He had every reason to guess she adored them or she would hardly have picked teaching them as a profession. But, then, he knew appearances could be deceiving. She might just as easily be locked into a job she hated because she didn’t have any other options. Millions of people went to work every day fitting that description. Watching her, though, he didn’t think she was one of them. She looked at Amber with too much tenderness, and her fingers were so gentle when she brushed his niece’s overlong bangs out of her face. Even with Joey, who had so indelicately insulted dancing as a whole, Melodie seemed amused.
It spoke well of her, but only added to his confusion. His picture so far was incongruous. He assumed that would change when they got a chance to talk. She had such a delicate face, her eyes a haunting mixture of caution and joy, as if she wanted to greet life with open arms but had been taught to keep her hands carefully at her sides. She was a soft touch with the kids, but she looked at him now and again with a hard reserve, as if preparing to do battle. If he’d seen a picture of her from the neck up, he would have expected to find her in a soft, flowing dress that dipped in front in a delicate heart shape. Instead, she appeared in leggings that had pigs embroidered on them.
Pigs!
But those pigs marched down an incredible set of legs. They clung to thighs and calves that were long and sleek, with muscles that were toned and taut.
Made a man think he just might not mind being a pig.
And the T-shirt would have been painful to look at for long stretches, except that the material was soft and lay against her feminine curves in a gentle caress. It might be loose fitting, but he was confident it hid firm, high breasts that begged to be kissed. Her nipples would be rosy and would harden instantly when his tongue—
Trenton shook his head. Good heavens, what had gotten into him? It took an effort to pull his thoughts back on track and remind himself that although his first impressions were favorable, she was not an appropriate candidate for consideration as a future wife so he could stop the preliminary interview that instant.
Besides, he had the distinct impression that Melodie Allford defied categorization. “Can we go now?”
Amber was dancing from foot to foot. She had dutifully removed her shoes and glanced longingly into the play area. Joey stood just as eagerly at her side. He smiled indulgently. “Sure. You guys go ahead.”
Amber stopped in her tracks. “Aren’t you going in with us?”
“Not right now. I need to talk to Miss Melodie, remember?”
“You got plenny a time. Come on, Uncle Trenton. You promersed.”
Trenton looked at Melodie, giving her the chance to put in her two cents’ worth. She smiled wryly and shook her head, obviously seeing the uselessness of arguing.
“Maybe after pizza we can send them off alone,” Trenton suggested.
“One could always hope.”
He wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that, but Amber and Joey weren’t giving him time to dwell on it. Joey stuffed his shoes into a cubby before bringing a basket to the table for keys, loose change, cuff links and cellular phone. Amber was determinedly making a knot out of Trenton’s shoelace as she tried to “help,” but he didn’t have the heart to stop her just yet.
A look in Melodie’s direction as he rolled back his sleeves had him noting that she was still standing by the viewing window, but she was looking at him as though he were an experiment under glass. She kept glancing at his bare forearms, then his socks, then back at his face as if she couldn’t put a picture together.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked to break her concentration, glancing pointedly at her athletic shoes and then at her hip pouch.
She started. “Me? Oh, no, I’m not—”
“Come on, Miss Melodie,” Amber said, abandoning her uncle to run over and grab Melodie’s hand. “You gotta come with us or it won’t be no fun.”
“Any fun.”
“Right,” Amber agreed, the soul of reasonableness.
Trenton had finished the job Amber had begun and had moved over to her side. “You might as well give in. You know you can’t win.”
With an exaggerated sigh, Melodie put her hipsack in the locker and took the rear of the short line headed toward the nautical area. The “gangplank” led to a series of jungle gyms designed as ships. The ball bin had been done in blues and greens, and the climbing vines were thick, knotted ropes.
“Argh, maties, and welcome aboard,” an eye-patched attendant greeted them out of the side of his mouth as they stepped onto the deck. “I’ll be remindin’ ye to have fun, but be careful. The high seas are no place for high jinks, ya’ know.”
Melodie felt a tug at the hem of her shorts. “What are high gins?” Amber asked in a loud whisper.
The attendant went down on one knee and motioned Amber closer. Cautiously, Amber inched forward.
“High jinks, me wee lass, are things such as pushin’ and shovin’ while yer playin’, and running pell-mell without watchin’ where yer goin’.”
“Oh, we won’t do that,” Amber promised solemnly, shaking her head.
“All righty then, that’s a good lass. Now hurry aboard so’s I can get the lines cast off and we can set sail.”
* * *

Melodie didn’t know when she’d had so much fun.
Or been so confused.
She laughed herself silly when Amber and Joey engaged in a “water” fight with their uncle, showering him with brightly colored balls until he was buried to the neck. She clapped dutifully when Amber cried, “Watch me, watch me,” as she “walked the plank” and “splashed” into the “ocean.” Joey climbed the “rigging” like a monkey, taunting his Uncle Trenton to catch him if he could. Of course, Uncle Trenton gave a valiant effort, but was no match for the agile seaman Joey.
She felt the oddest tug in her stomach when Amber decreed that they were a family taken captive by awful pirates and were going to make a desperate escape through the “hold” of the ship. Amber bravely led the way through the plastic tunnels, twisting and turning through the maze. Melodie had a hard time keeping her mind on the game with Trent right behind her. She sighed when they finally reached the “escape hatch” and the foursome slid down the long slide one by one to end up in the “ocean” again.
The successful escapees finally returned to the “dock.” The adults slid into their chairs, and worked at restoring their breathing to normal. Melodie wanted to frown when she noticed that maybe it was just her who was out of breath, and she was in pretty good shape. Trenton was already fixing his cuffs and slipping his jacket back on. She tried to deny it, but she was disappointed. The afternoon had been fun. She didn’t want Trenton to return to being Perfect Man—Defender of Decorum, Protector of Protocol.
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.
“I was just trying to be funny. She’s just a little ninny, that’s all.”
Ninny? Melodie wondered. She had no idea kids used the word ninny these days.
“Are you guys finished eating?” The two nodded. “Then why don’t you go play on the second playground.”
The two were off like bolts of lightning, and Trenton shook his head. “I just love those kids.”
“They are darlings, that’s for sure. Can I make a big leap here and assume they are the reason behind this video?”
“Part of it, certainly. My market research gives me hope that it will also be a lucrative project. It would be a nice addition to their trust funds.”
Melodie settled back and crossed her legs comfortably. “How did you get started in all this?”
“Their mother, who is my sister, is a radio/TV/film major at U.T. Bridgette has to do a video for a school assignment and she mentioned one day that she couldn’t find any good children’s exercise videos. We both just looked at each other.”
Melodie raised an eyebrow. “And the rest, as they say, is history?”
“Pretty much. Her project doesn’t have to be marketed, but after doing some research, we figured that if she was going to do all that work, she might as well get something out of it.”
“Just she? You’re not involved?”
“I’m fronting the expenses, but that’s all I’m going to let Bridgette pay me back. This is for her and the kids.”
“That’s awfully nice of you.”
“They’re very special to me.”
The love and caring she saw in his eyes made her uncomfortable. He was obviously the kind of big brother every girl dreamed of having. Bridgette was one of the lucky ones to actually get an older sibling like Trenton. Other big brothers weren’t quite as close to the mark.
She cleared her throat. “So where do I come in?”
“We envision this as a dance video. We had someone lined up to lead it, but she had to back out due to an illness in her family. Now we need to recast the role.”
After they briefly discussed the financial terms, Melodie admitted she was interested, but every time she looked at Trenton, her gut meter went off in warning. It was the voice that said, “Danger! Nice guy ahead.” Nice guys, as a whole, were all right, but they tended to be awfully straitlaced.
Worse yet, she knew from some of Serena’s gossip that Trent was not only a nice guy, he was a nice guy hunting for a wife. Not that he’d ever cast her in that role, but the last thing she needed was to be locked into a project with a guy that made her nervous. And nice guys could never understand that she wasn’t going to sacrifice who she was on the altar of marriage. Men always started out saying they won’t ask a woman to give up her career or her dreams, but she’d watched too many of her friends cave in when their husbands put on the pressure. She didn’t have the time or the desire to play that game.
Time. Now there was the real problem. She didn’t have the time to devote to this project, even if she were so inclined. So all in all, it would just be easiest if she let them both off the hook.
“Look, Trent, I appreciate you talking to me about the video and all, but I don’t think I’m your girl.”
He looked at her for a long moment, and Melodie appreciated his honesty by not offering false disappointment.
“If you’re sure…” he began.
Melodie nodded. “Yes, I think it would be best. I do want to thank you for the opportunity.”
“My pleasure.”
She doubted it, but it was nice of him to say anyway.
They stood and were shaking hands when Joey burst into the room. “Uncle Trenton! Amber threw up!”
Trent turned and raced to the play area. He’d barely reached the door when Amber came through and launched herself into his arms, tears streaming down her face.
“I was just…” The rest of her words were lost in her sobs. Melodie stroked the child’s head comfortingly.
“She was hanging upside down on the monkey bars when she hurled all over everything. It was cool!” Joey supplied with typical brotherly concern.
Attendants hurried to the area with cleaning supplies, and a manager came over to them. “Is the child all right, sir?”
“Yes, she’s fine. I should have made her wait longer after eating.”
“That’s quite all right. This happens often.”
Trenton stood with Amber in his arms and gave Melodie a wry smile over the little girl’s shoulder. “Look, Melodie—”
They both gave exasperated sighs as his cellular phone chirped in his pocket. Shifting Amber, he answered the summons.
Feeling awkward about listening to his side of the conversation, Melodie tried to focus her attention elsewhere. This was one of those situations the protocol police needed to come up with some new rules for. Did one stand there and listen obviously? Did one look off and pretend not to listen? Did one physically move away? Melodie decided if she could find the time she was going to write a book: Cellular Phones and the Men Who Love Them.
It should be a bestseller.
Thankfully, he kept the conversation short. When she brought her attention back to him, it was obvious that he wasn’t exactly happy.
“That was Bridgette.”
Melodie waited, not sure that a response was required.
“I told her that you declined, but she insisted I invite you to dinner at my house tonight. We’re having a meeting of the video staff at seven-thirty. It will be informal.”
Melodie wanted to inquire which would be informal—the dinner or the meeting.
“Please, Miss Melodie,” Amber said, her blue eyes liquid with tears. “I want you to meet my mommy.”
“No, honey. Not this time. I promise you I’ll stay after school one afternoon and meet her, okay?”
Barely mollified, Amber nodded and rested her head against her uncle’s broad chest.
After giving Amber a final pat, Melodie smiled at Trent. “Thank you again, but no. I’ll just go so you can take care of the kids.”
Trenton held out his hand and shook hers warmly once more. “I appreciate your time, Melodie.” He reached into his pocket for a pen. “Here’s my card,” he said as he wrote on the back, “in case you change your mind. It was nice talking with you.”
“You, too. Goodbye.”
In a blink, it seemed, they were outside and heading for their respective vehicles. As she slipped inside her traveling sauna, Melodie wondered how she’d gotten herself into another fine mess with so little effort. At least she had gotten herself out of it without any damage.
She was still lost in thought as she pulled into the driveway of her little cookie-cutter home. Her address might not be in Hyde Park or Tarrytown or any of the other wonderful neighborhoods she’d love to live in, but it was hers—and the bank’s.
She wondered for a moment where Mr. Trenton James Laroquette, Esquire, lived. She could only imagine. Probably in the house of her dreams.
Well, wherever he lived, the fresh coat of paint she’d put on last year still looked good and other than the fact that the yard was overdue to be mowed, the place was neat and tidy.
The first thing she did after opening the door was flip on the air conditioner. It was one of the few luxuries she afforded herself, and her standing rule was to turn it on when she got home in the evening and leave it on until she left for work the next morning. It was a little stuffy now, but the house would be blessedly cool for the rest of the night.
As she headed through the living area toward the dining room, something nagged at the edges of her consciousness. It wasn’t until she was almost done flipping through the stack of mail on the table that she realized what it was.
Things were missing.
The Led Zepelin poster was gone. Half the CD rack was gone. The gray recliner and end table were gone.
Most of all, she guessed her roommate was gone.

Three (#ulink_33e427da-3f83-5561-ace7-6a4c5780a4e2)
Melodie glanced around and noticed a few more things missing. Danielle hadn’t exactly been a neatnik, so the very fact that the place looked organized was surprising. Even Danielle’s room was clean—simply void of any personal effects.
When Melodie reached her room, she headed straight for the shower, leaving a trail of sweaty clothes across the floor. She loosened her braid and ran her fingers through her long, heavy hair as she adjusted the water temperature and stepped under the spray. She planned on standing there until her fingers started to wrinkle.
She didn’t quite make it to wrinkle stage before turning off the taps, but she did feel cool and refreshed. She wondered if it was odd to feel more from a shower than from a roommate who had abandoned her, leaving her in the lurch, but Melodie pushed the thought away as she wrapped one towel turban-style around her head and tucked another under her arms.
She supposed she should feel something—anything—since Danielle was gone, but the most she could come up with was a mild sense of relief mixed with an even milder twinge of disappointment. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known this was coming.
Then she noticed an envelope propped against her pillow. In the enclosed note Danielle had said she’d “hooked up” with an old boyfriend and had to “split” all of a sudden. After ending the note with a hope that Melodie would be “cool” about all this, Danielle had signed off with “later.”
Danielle’s timing, as well as her writing style, left a lot to be desired.
This event certainly cast a new light on the video issue. She might actually need this job! If only she hadn’t declined so quickly. Not that she believed she’d had much of a chance of earning the part, but she was now motivated to at least give it a shot.
She glanced at the clock. Trent had said they were getting together at seven-thirty, and it was just after six. If she called, she might be able to get herself reinvited to the meeting.
In the time it took to retrieve his business card from her hip pack and return to the bedroom, her stomach had twisted into a knot. Her hand trembled as she punched out the numbers on the phone. Hesitating before hitting the last button, she slammed the receiver back into its cradle. She didn’t have to do this! She could always pick up a part-time job somewhere until the crisis was over. Besides, she’d just bet Trenton was a tightwad as well as a stuffed shirt and wouldn’t want to pay her what she was worth.
Despite the fact that she was alone, Melodie felt her face flush. That thought was mean and unworthy of her. She didn’t know why she was so dead set on believing the worst about Trenton Laroquette. She just couldn’t put her finger on what it was about him that affected her so.
Taking a deep breath, she reached for the phone again, and this time, completed the call.
“’lo?” a childish voice answered.
“Amber? This is Miss Melodie. Is your uncle there?”
All Melodie heard was a squeal, a crash as the phone bounced off a table or desk and a shrill shriek of “Uncle Trenton, Uncle Trenton! Come quick! It’s Miss Melodie!”
Melodie smiled and shook her head.
Her smile wavered when she heard Trent’s voice. “Melodie?”
She cleared her throat. “I apologize for the surprise, but I was thinking about your offer and wondering if the invitation to the meeting tonight still held good.”
There was a moment’s hesitation—just enough to make her nervous.
“Yes, of course. You’re quite welcome to join us.”
She let out a silent sigh of relief. “Great. Um, it’s at seven-thirty, right?”
“That’s correct. Let me give you directions to my home.”
She scrambled for a pen and turned Danielle’s letter over for scratch paper, mentally berating herself for not being prepared. Maybe subconsciously she hadn’t believed he would say yes.
Glancing at the clock as she hung up, she realized she would have to hurry to get ready and make it halfway across town in time.
But she also knew that, in a hurry or not, she needed to put her best foot forward. With quick strokes, she brushed her hair until it glowed. Pulling the sides back, she gave it a simple twist and used her favorite Chinese comb to hold it in place while the rest cascaded down her back. She chose a wrap skirt in a bright Southwest print and topped it with a turquoise-colored silk tank top. A gold necklace and big gold hoops in her ears were her only jewelry. She slipped tan sandals on her feet as she stuck her cheap but functioning watch into the purse she would use instead of her too-casual hip pack.
Always a minimalist with makeup, she found herself applying what little she did wear with care. She needed to look professional and capable, and she was the first to admit that blush, lipstick and mascara made her look a little older, a little less like a freshfaced teenager than she normally did. Just as repainting her nails from purple enamel to clear polish made the professional image more complete. She told herself firmly that she wasn’t worried about what Trent thought personally. She was simply trying to give herself whatever advantage she could now that she needed some extra income.
Hurrying out the front door, she grimaced at the summer sun, still forceful even at this hour of the evening. Maybe luck would be with her and she could at least arrive without having sweated off her careful grooming. It wasn’t until she was halfway to Trent’s house that she realized she’d left the directions—along with Trent’s number—on the bed, and he had mentioned his phone was unlisted.
Gritting her teeth, she turned around and headed back, praying she wouldn’t get stopped as she skirted the speed limit. In the end, she reached Trent’s neighborhood only a little late. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.
As she passed through the wrought-iron and stone archway that spanned the entry to the subdivision, she slowed down considerably. Any neighborhood this Yuppie was bound to have the requisite 2.4 children per household running around.
She snorted softly as a pair of identically clad joggers passed her on the sidewalk, their glances at her beat-up car expressing their concern as to what she might be doing on their side of town. Even the two fur balls running alongside stared at her. She wondered how their owners had trained them to do that.
The gate to Trent’s place was open, and several cars lined the large driveway. She parked and headed for the front door, more than a little impressed. Somehow she guessed that no matter how old she got or how far she moved from the Buda, Texas, of her youth, she would always be awed by obvious wealth displayed in elegant, understated ways such as this.
Point in fact, she was much more impressed than she wanted to be. Her earlier musing proved correct—Trent did live in the house of her dreams.
The lines were elegant. Soft, draping curtains covered the many windows, back-lit by a warm and welcoming glow. She would have picked the same natural rock on the face of the house, and the steeply sloping roof promised at least one room with a vaulted ceiling.
The front porch was laden with green plants, and she couldn’t stop herself from touching one to make sure it was real. She was surprised at the depth of her relief that, indeed, the greenery was alive.
The doorbell was answered by none other than seaman Joey. After announcing that his mother was in the kitchen, and pointing in the general direction of the back of the house, her erstwhile guide took off down the hallway toward the “beep-twiddle-beep” of a video game in progress.
With a shrug, Melodie headed through the house, breathing deeply the soft essence of flowers. Along with her other mistaken preconceptions regarding Trent, Melodie added decorating to her list. She’d been expecting dark leather, but found instead beige and soft blue fabrics. The carpet was deep and luxurious, though—she’d been right about that.
The house was filled with sound. In addition to the hidden video game, a stereo somewhere was playing soft rock favorites that mingled with laughter from down the hall to her left. She assumed the mixture of voices were the other members of the video team Trent had mentioned.
Melodie wound her way through the living room, assuming she was going in the right direction, and finally located the kitchen. She was delighted to find Bridgette exactly as she’d expected the parent of an urchin like Amber to be: petite, with her light brown hair pulled back in a swinging ponytail, and a bright, sweet smile. The mother was as warm and pleasant as the daughter, and it was easy to tell that Amber would be equally beautiful when she grew up.
“Amber talks about you all the time,” Bridgette offered as she shook Melodie’s hand and returned to slicing tomatoes. “She just loves dance class and is absolutely sure she’s going to be a prima ballerina when she grows up.”
Melodie chuckled. “Don’t worry. As soon as she hits the tomboy stage, she’ll want to be a fireman.”
Bridgette smiled in return. “Oh, I’m sure. But I just wanted you to know that I appreciate the attention you give her.” Bridgette stopped cutting and cocked her head. “Not that she gives you any choice!”
“Are you talking about my sweet girl?” A deep voice preceded a tall, blond-haired man into the kitchen. He moved behind Bridgette, wrapping his arms around her waist to nuzzle her neck.
Both intrigued by their play and feeling intrusive, Melodie’s stomach tightened as she watched the couple. She wasn’t used to such open displays of affection.
“Glen, stop it!” Bridgette shrugged him off, her cheeks flushing a becoming pink. “Glen, this is Melodie. She’s Amber’s dance teacher.”
Glen offered Melodie a firm handshake. “So you’re the one responsible for the need for ballet slippers and tights in every conceivable color.”
“Oh, no,” Melodie defended herself with a laugh. “I don’t have a dress code for class. The kids were supposed to bring home notes telling you that.”
“I think Amber conveniently lost hers.”
“Listen, Melodie,” Bridgette interjected, “would you mind taking these buns out to the barbecue so Trenton can get them browning? If I can get Glen to leave me alone long enough, I’ll finish the condiments.”
The knot in Melodie’s stomach pulled taut. What could she say?
“Uh, sure.”
“Just go straight through there,” Bridgette directed with a pickle in hand, “and out the sliding doors to the patio.”
Taking the bag of buns, Melodie left as instructed.
Trenton heard the glass door slide open, but he was too busy fighting the flaming grill with his squirt bottle to turn around. “Just a second, brat. I’m a little busy right now.”
When he turned, he pulled himself up short. The beautiful woman standing there certainly wasn’t Bridgette. She bore a striking resemblance to the quirky dance teacher he’d met earlier in the afternoon, however.
And a smile was twitching at the corner of her mouth.
“I have to admit I haven’t been called a brat by a relative stranger in a long time. People usually have to know me for at least a week.”
Trenton felt chagrined. “I apologize for that. I thought you were Bridgette.”
“Nope, just me with the buns.”
Trenton had to bite his tongue to keep from saying, “And nice buns they are.” He didn’t know Melodie yet, and sometimes people were taken off guard by his humor. Not to mention that, from their conversation this afternoon, Melodie obviously thought him something of a stuffed shirt. He wanted to relieve her of that impression, but not by changing the image to a sexist jerk.
She stepped forward, a little awkwardly, which struck him as odd. He found everything about her graceful, just as he’d expect in a dancer. Now that she was out of that baggy T-shirt and those wild leggings, he could see that his suspicions were indeed correct. Her sleeveless shirt revealed sleek, toned arms and an elegant neck. Her wrap skirt hugged slender hips, as well as the long legs he’d admired earlier, pigs and all.
Hearing the grill sizzle warningly behind him, he hurried forward to take the bread.
“Why don’t you grab something to drink and have a seat?” He motioned with his tongs toward a cooler at the end of the benches built into the perimeter of the deck.
A length of her hair fell over her shoulder as she chose a cola from the ice. With the sunset behind her, and the breeze playing with her long tresses, she looked as though she could be posing for a commercial. He was sure he wouldn’t be the only man to buy that brand of soda.
Suddenly his mouth felt dry. “Would you mind grabbing a root beer for me?” He nodded toward the grill. “It keeps flaming up and I don’t want to scorch the burgers.”
A moment later, as she handed him the chilled can, his fingers touched hers just for a second. It sent a jolt up his arm. Funny. He hadn’t noticed how small the deck was before now. He’d entertained twenty or thirty people before and it had never felt this close.
And quiet. He’d turned off the outside speakers to enjoy the crickets and cicadas, but now the silence wrapped around him.
He cleared his throat. “Did you have any trouble finding the place?”
“None at all.” She glanced around the deck. “Why are you out here by yourself?”
He flipped a patty and looked back at her. “Although the breeze makes it tolerable out here, everybody else likes the air conditioning. Besides, I just bought the newest version of Space Warriors from Planet Ten, and everyone’s trying to beat my high score.”
“You play video games?”
Her expression was nothing short of amazed. He barked a laugh. “Sure, why not?”
In the fading sunlight, he thought she blushed, but he wasn’t certain. “I don’t know. I…didn’t take you for the video type.”
His grin widened. “Just what type did you take me for?”
She smiled back. “Oh, somehow I imagined you spending an intimate evening with six or seven law books and a stack of legal pads.”
Trenton exaggerated a wince. “Sounds like I need to work on my image.”
She remained enigmatically silent.
He tried again. “I’m glad you could make it after all. What made you change your mind?”
“The idea intrigues me,” she said, her face brightening. “I think I was taken off guard this afternoon. When I had a minute alone to let it all sink in, I realized I’d spoken too hastily at Kidstravaganza.”
The grill chose to flame up again before he could reply. “Yow!” he. yelped, snapping his hand away from the danger. He grimaced and nodded toward rust on the grill. “I’m glad the neighborhood association hasn’t been by for an inspection, or I’d be in big trouble.”
Again, surprise registered on her face. Had he really made that bad of a first impression? Did she think he had no sense of humor at all?
Every time he glanced at her, he experienced her viscerally. His lungs constricted, or his gut went taut, or his legs tightened. He found it all rather interesting since he’d been around some of the most beautiful women in the city, and none of them had had this effect on him.
He was suddenly having trouble remembering why he couldn’t put her on his candidate list because he felt certain that somehow, some way, he was going to have to kiss those noncandidate lips. As much as he knew he needed his next breath, he would have to know the taste of her just one time before they went their separate ways. Although the end to his bachelorhood was imminent, it wasn’t a fait accompli yet! He wouldn’t mind spending some of his remaining free time with a beauty like Melodie. In fact, his fingers itched to run through that mass of molten flame cascading down her back. He guessed it would reach to her beautiful behind when let out of the elegant twist she’d spun it into, and he had every intention of confirming his suspicion as soon as the situation allowed.
His conscience twinged. When she’d been dressed in purple tie-dye and piggy leggings, he had immediately assumed she was flighty and inappropriate for the video. Even when they’d talked at the pizza parlor, he’d liked her more and more but still had been relieved when she’d declined an interest. Now, however, faced with this vision, he was forced to admit he had judged her on surface evidence. He, of all people, should know better than that.
When she glanced nervously at her fingernails—which he noticed were missing the purple enamel—he knew he must have been staring. It made her uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude,” he said.
She shrugged and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I should expect your confusion after the way I was dressed this afternoon.”
He matched her chuckle. “I must admit, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like that get-up.”
The corners of her eyes wrinkled as she smiled. It was charming.
“Now you’ll have to forgive me for being rude, but you could use a casual consultant.” Her eyes raked down his sports shirt and cutoffs.
“What?” he asked with pretended affront. “You don’t like my outfit?”
“It’d be perfect if you’d put on a faded, holey jersey. But the collared shirt thing…” She shook her head despairingly.
Trenton guessed he wouldn’t have to worry about whether she’d express her opinion or not if she joined the video team.
She took a sip of her drink.
Trenton finished piling the burgers on a platter and started toasting the buns.
The sound of the door gliding open caught their attention. Bridgette came out, holding hands with Glen.
“Everything’s on the table. You about ready?”
In answer, Trenton handed Glen the huge platter of burgers. After taking the last set of buns off the grill, he shut off the gas and carried that platter himself.
Glancing back toward Melodie, he jerked his head toward the house. “Come on. Let’s eat.”
The ensuing moments were chaotic. Melodie was introduced to Ronald, Juan and Cassie, Bridgette’s teammates. Ronald, she learned, was the cameraman, Juan the marketing director and Cassie did the still photography, specifically for the video jacket. Bridgette was the producer.
Amber was obviously feeling no ill effects from her upset stomach earlier for she was in the middle of the big melee of hands reaching for mayo and mustard and lettuce and pickles and chips.
A little intimidated, Melodie waited for the crowd to clear before fixing her plate and following the trail of people out of the kitchen. Bridgette was sitting on the floor, leaning back against Glen’s legs. Ronald and Juan were in the easy chairs, and Cassie had claimed the other end of the couch by Bridgette. The kids were using the coffee table to support their plates, and Trenton was sitting on the step down into the sunken area.

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