Isn't It Rich?

Melanie reached for her attaché case and promptly knocked over her water glass...straight into his lap.

Richard leaped up as the icy water soaked through his pants. The day was just getting better and better.

“Oh, my God, I am so sorry,” Melanie said, on her feet, napkin in hand, poised to sop up the water.

Richard considered letting her do it, just to see how she reacted once she realized exactly where she was touching him, but apparently she caught on to the problem. She handed the napkin to him.

“Sorry,” she said again while he spent several minutes trying to dry himself off. “I swear to you that I am not normally such a klutz.” At his doubtful look, she added, “Really, I’m not.”

“If you say so.”

“If you want to leave, I will totally understand. If you tell me never to darken your door, I’ll understand that, too.” Her chin came up and she looked straight into his eyes. “But you’ll be making a terrible mistake.”

She was a bold one, no question about that. Richard paused in his futile attempt to dry his trousers. “How so?”

“I’m exactly what you need, Mr. Carlton. I know how to get attention.”

“Yes, I can see that,” he said wryly. “There’s unforgettable and then there’s disastrous. I’m hoping for something a little more positive.”

“I can do that,” she insisted. “I have the contacts. I’m clever and innovative. I know exactly how to sell my clients to the media. In fact, I have a preliminary plan right here for your campaign and for Carlton Industries.”

When she started to reach for her attaché case again, Richard grabbed the remaining water glass on the table and moved it a safe distance away, then sat back down while she scattered a flurry of papers in every direction. When she was finally done, he said, “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Ms. Hart, I really do, but this isn’t going to work.” To avoid hurting her feelings, he tried to temper his dismissal. “I need someone a little more seasoned.”

He refrained from adding that he wanted someone less ditzy, someone a little less inclined to remind him with every breath that she was a female and that he was a male who hadn’t had sex for several months now. He did not need an employee who stirred up all these contradictory reactions in him. In this day and age that was a lawsuit waiting to happen.

His response to Melanie Hart bemused him. He’d gone from annoyance to anger to attraction in the space of—he glanced at his watch—less than twenty-five minutes. Relieved that her allotted time was nearly over, he tapped his Rolex. “Time’s about up, Ms. Hart. Nice to meet you. I wish you luck and best success.”

She gave him that forlorn, doe-eyed look that made his stomach clench and his pulse gallop erratically.

“You’re kissing me off, aren’t you?” she said.

It was an unfortunate turn of phrase. Richard suddenly couldn’t stop looking at her mouth, which was soft and full and very, very kissable. He obviously needed to find the time to start dating again, if he was going to react this way to a woman as wildly inappropriate as Melanie Hart.

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” he said finally. “I’m just saying it’s a bad match. If you’re as talented as my aunt says, you’ll be snapped up by another company in no time at all.”

“I already have other clients, Mr. Carlton. In fact, my business is thriving,” she said stiffly. “I wanted to work for you and for Carlton Industries because I think I have something to offer you that your in-house staff cannot.”

“Which is?”

“A fresh perspective that would drag your corporate and personal image out of the Dark Ages.” She stood up. “Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps your current stuffy image has it exactly right.”

As Richard stared, she whirled around and marched out of the restaurant with her head held high, her back straight and the tiniest, most provocative sway of her narrow hips he’d seen in a long time.

Damn, what was happening to him? The infernal woman had just mowed him down, soaked him with water and told him off, and he still couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Of course, the real problem was that she wanted to work for him...and for some totally insane and inexplicable reason, he wanted her in his bed.

* * *

“And then I soaked him with water,” Melanie related to Destiny Carlton a few hours later over drinks at what had once been the Carlton family home. Now Destiny apparently lived there alone. “I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t catch pneumonia and sue me. I think I can pretty much count on getting a polite rejection letter in tomorrow’s mail just to take away any lingering doubts I might have that he absolutely, positively hated me. Heck, he’ll probably send it over by courier tonight to make sure I don’t come waltzing into his office tomorrow and burn the building down.”

Destiny laughed, oddly delighted by this report. “Oh, darling, it couldn’t have gone better. Richard is much too pompous. He takes himself too seriously. You’re just the breath of fresh air he needs.”

“I really don’t think he saw the humor in the situation,” Melanie said with genuine regret.

She’d liked Richard. Okay, he was a little bit rigid and standoffish, but she could improve on that. She could coach him on smiling more frequently. She’d had one glimpse of his killer smile and it had made her knees weak. If he smiled more and frowned less, he could win over every female voter in Alexandria, no matter where he stood on the issues. She really thought she could do great things for Carlton Industries and for its CEO. It was a challenge she’d been looking forward to. Now she’d never have the chance. And while her company wasn’t exactly thriving, the way she’d told him it was, a coup like this would have assured its future.

“I’ll talk to him. I’m sure I can smooth things over,” Destiny said.

“Please, no,” Melanie insisted. “You’ve done enough. You got me the interview in the first place. I’m the one who blew it. Maybe I can think of some way to salvage things.”

“I’m sure you can,” Destiny said with an encouraging smile. “You’re very clever at such things. I knew that the moment we met.”

“We met when I dented your rear fender,” Melanie reminded her.

“But it only took a few minutes for you to convince me it was time for a new car, anyway. You had me on the dealer’s lot and behind the wheel of my snappy little red convertible within the hour, and I’m no pushover,” Destiny asserted.

Melanie laughed. “Who are you kidding? You were dying to buy a new car. I just gave you a reason and steered you to a client I knew would give you a great deal.”

“But don’t you see? That’s exactly what marketing is all about—convincing people to go ahead and get something they’ve wanted but haven’t thought they needed. Now you merely have to convince my nephew that he—or, rather, Carlton Industries—can’t live without you.”

An alarm suddenly went off in Melanie’s head at Destiny’s slip of the tongue. She studied the older woman warily, but there was nothing in her friend’s eyes to suggest duplicity. Still, she had to ask. “Destiny, you’re not matchmaking, are you?”

“Me? Matchmaking for Richard? Heavens no. I wouldn’t waste the energy. He would never take my advice when it comes to matters of the heart.”

She made the protest sound very convincing, but Melanie didn’t quite buy it. Destiny Carlton was a kind, smart, fascinating woman, but she clearly had a sneaky streak. She also adored her nephews. Melanie had picked up on that the first time they’d met. Destiny had gone on and on about their attributes and how she despaired of ever seeing them settle down. Who knew what she might do to get them married off?

“I’m not in the market for a husband,” Melanie told her firmly. “You know that, don’t you?”

“But you are in the market for a challenging job, right? That hasn’t changed?”

“No, that hasn’t changed.”

“Well, then,” Destiny said cheerily. “Let’s put our heads together and come up with a plan. Nobody knows Richard’s weak spots better than I do.”

“He has weaknesses?” Melanie asked skeptically. He’d struck her as tough, competent and more than a little arrogant. If there was a chink in his armor, she hadn’t spotted it, and she was well trained to spot flaws that the media might exploit and see that they were corrected or hidden from view.

Destiny beamed at her. “He’s a man, isn’t he? All men can be won over if the tactics are right. Have I told you about the duke?”

“The one who chased you all over Europe?”

“No, dear, that was a prince. This man—the duke—was the love of my life,” she confided, her expression nostalgic. Then she shook her head. “Well, that’s in the past. Best not to go there. Let’s concentrate on Richard. There’s a little cottage on the river about eighty miles from here. It’s very peaceful. I think I can get him down there this weekend.”

Melanie eyed her friend warily. She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of this. The last time she’d trusted Destiny’s instincts over her own, look what had happened.

“And?” she asked cautiously.

“Then you show up with some of his favorite gourmet food—I’ll help you plan the menu—and your marketing plan. He won’t be able to resist.”

There were so many things wrong with that scheme, Melanie didn’t know where to begin. If doing a presentation in a restaurant was awkward and unprofessional, then chasing the man to some out-of-the-way cottage was downright ludicrous and rife with the potential for disaster.