A Match Made by Cupid

“I’d say you’re afraid the possibility does exist. Otherwise, you’d have already agreed.”

“If I agree, and I’m not saying I do, what do I get if I win?”

His brow furrowed. “How about you get a romantic evening with me?”

Now, she did laugh. “Nice try, but let’s go with ‘no’ on that one.”

“All right,” he said easily. “What do you want?”

The answer came to her immediately. “A picture of you in your Snuggie. And if Kurt agrees, the picture runs for a full month alongside your columns.” Placing both hands on the desk, she angled her entire body forward. “I choose the pose and the setting of the photograph. I’ll promise the shot will be tasteful, but anything else is up to me. What do you say to that?”

The slightest flicker of apprehension sifted over Jace. Truly, she didn’t think he’d go for it. After all, he had his playboy image to maintain. She started to pull away, when his hands came down on hers. “I don’t like to lose. Be sure you’re up for the challenge, Mel, because I won’t make it easy on you.”

Ha. This wasn’t a challenge. “Oh, I’m up for it. The question is, are you?”

“I’m not only in, I can’t wait to get started.” Lifting his hand, he tugged gently on her hair. “In the meantime, I’m going to start planning our date. And I can promise you a night you’ll never forget.”

“Uh-huh. You do that, Mr. Confident. I’ll start thinking up fun and interesting Snuggie poses.” Finally, it was her turn to wink. “You are so in trouble.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, seeming all too pleased with himself. “But then again, maybe I’ll win. There is at least a fifty-fifty shot of this going my way. Pretty decent odds.”

Just that quick, some of her confidence evaporated. A wary signal bleeped in her brain, reminding her that she had to be very, very careful around Jace Foster. He was a man who made her want what she didn’t believe in. And that, she knew, could lead her down a road she’d prefer to avoid. At all costs.

Chapter Three

Hours later, Melanie let herself in at her mother’s house and went to start dinner. They’d developed a routine over the years, one that included eating a meal together at least once a week. More often when one of them needed extra support.

Sure, the weight of that “extra support” landed more often on Melanie’s shoulders than vice versa. But that didn’t matter. They were a team. Had been ever since the day David Prentiss decided that family life didn’t agree with him and walked out on his wife and daughter, never to look back. Melanie had been seven. Old enough to have memories of her father but young enough to get used to life without him.

In her mother’s seventies-era kitchen, Melanie grabbed a box of dried pasta and a jar of tomato sauce from a cupboard. She’d found her mom in here that morning, she recalled, sobbing over a half-eaten toaster waffle. Loretta had cried for the better part of a year, though after that first morning, she’d attempted to hide her tears from Melanie.

But closed doors, running water and a loud television weren’t enough to cover the sounds of grief. Nor did the layers of carefully applied cosmetics mask swollen eyes.

Late one night about eight months into it, Melanie crawled into bed with her mother. She’d wrapped her arms around her, holding her tighter than she ever had before, and they’d cried together. As far as Melanie knew, that was the last time her mother had shed a tear over David Prentiss. She knew for certain it was the last time that she had.

Melanie glanced at the clock. It was Tuesday, which meant Loretta closed shop at six and would be home by six-thirty. After filling a large pot with water, Melanie set it on the stove to boil. She unscrewed the jar of sauce and dumped the contents into a saucepan before preheating the oven for the garlic bread. A few minutes later, she was chopping vegetables for a salad.

She wasn’t expected to prepare dinner, but sitting around and waiting for her mother to come home and cook seemed wrong. With the salad ready and in the fridge, the pasta boiling and the sauce simmering, Melanie dropped into a chair to relax. Hopefully, the evening wouldn’t be another rehash of her mother’s newest failed relationship.

Melanie had lied to Jace earlier when she said she’d never suffered from broken-heart syndrome. Her heart ached every time her mother’s did. It killed Melanie to see the pain her mom went through. Maybe, she thought, this would be the last for a while. Maybe she’d be able to convince Mom to take a hiatus from dating.

Lost in thought, she jolted when her cell phone rang. Probably Mom, calling to see if she needed to stop and pick anything up. Without looking at the display, Melanie said, “We’re all set unless you want dessert. And dinner should be on the table in like ten minutes, so I hope you’re on your way.”

The words were barely out of her mouth, when she heard the front door open.

“Dinner, eh? I thought you’d never ask, darlin’.” Jace’s deep voice emanated through the line. “Sounds great. Where at?”

Ugh. What was he calling her about? “Obviously, I thought you were someone else. And you’re not invited to dinner. Sorry for getting your hopes up.”

Loretta entered the kitchen and smiled in greeting. “Who wants to come to dinner? Is it Tara?” she asked, speaking of Melanie’s best friend. “Have her join us!”

Before answering, Melanie gave her a quick once-over, searching for any signs of distress. Her gray-blue eyes were clear, so she hadn’t cried on the way home. And, Melanie noted, she’d had her medium-brown hair cut into a wispy sort of bob that suited the fine features of her face. She looked good. Happy, even. Which meant she was well on her way to recovery.

“Hello?” Jace said loudly. “Did you hang up on me, Mello Yello?”

Loretta appraised Melanie with a speculative gleam. “That very masculine-sounding voice can’t possibly be Tara. Who’s on the phone, dear?”

Uh-oh. Sensing a danger zone rapidly approaching, Melanie covered the phone with one hand. “It’s no one. Just a guy I work with.” Into the phone, she said, “I haven’t hung up on you. Yet. You’ve got five seconds, Jace. What do you want?”

“That’s a leading question, Mel,” Jace said in a light, almost teasing tone that caused her heart to skip a beat. “But seeing how I promised to avoid any and all types of sexual innuendo, I’ll get right to the point.”

“Jace as in Jace Foster? I read his columns all the time,” Loretta said from Melanie’s left side. “Why does he want to come for dinner? Oh! Are you two dating?”

“No,” she said to her mother. To Jace, she said, “Yes, please. Getting right to the point would be—” The sizzling sound of water boiling over stopped her midsentence. “Actually, hold that thought.” Slamming the phone down on the table, Melanie raced to the stove and pulled the pot of pasta off the burner.

“Is this Jace Foster?” She heard Mom say behind her. “This is Loretta Prentiss. Melanie’s mother? I’m a huge fan of your ‘Man About Town’ column.” She gave a delighted laugh. “Really! I’ve always read the Gazette—even before Melanie started working there.”

And there she goes, Melanie thought with a great deal of humor. Mom, she knew, would chatter about anything and everything if given the chance. That was fine. Mom could talk to Jace while Melanie cleaned up the pasta mess and finished getting dinner ready. If she was lucky, he’d beg out of the conversation and Melanie wouldn’t have to talk to him until tomorrow.

“You should come for dinner, Jace,” Loretta all but gushed. “I’ll give you the address. Do you have something to write with?”

“Mom! No!” Melanie said loudly. Maybe too loudly. “Give me the phone back.”

“Please excuse me for a second, Jace. My daughter is trying to talk with me. Yes, I know she can be quite stubborn.” Turning toward Melanie, she said, “What is it? And why didn’t you tell me you were involved with someone?”

“Because I’m not. Did he tell you we were? We are not dating.” She held her hand out palm-side up. “The phone, Mom.”

Disappointment gathered in her mother’s eyes. “I guess I should’ve known better, but you can’t blame a mother for hoping. And I don’t see why he can’t join us for dinner.”

Melanie lowered her voice in the hopes that Jace wouldn’t hear her. “I spent all day with him. I don’t want to spend the evening with him, too. Besides, this is supposed to be time for you and me. Remember?”

Loretta gave her a considering look, but nodded. “I think there’s more to it, and you’ll explain every bit of it to me later.” Pressing the phone back to her ear, she said, “I’m very sorry, Jace. It seems my daughter requires some mother-daughter time tonight. Perhaps we can plan something for the future?”

“Thank you.” More relieved than she ought to be, Melanie removed the garlic bread from the oven and turned off the stove burners. Then, ready to discover why Jace had called to begin with, she went to reclaim her phone.

Her mom was pacing the length of the kitchen as she talked. Melanie waved to get her attention. Mom gave her the “one more minute” sign, saying, “Isn’t that sweet of you? If that’s the case, you’ll definitely have dinner with us.”

This couldn’t be happening. “Mom? I thought we agreed—”

“No, no, don’t worry about that. We’ll keep everything warm until you get here. It isn’t a problem at all, especially with you going out of your way and all.” Mom shot her a warning glance before rattling off the address. “Okay, Jace. We’ll see you soon.”

Melanie stared at her mother in disbelief. “What just happened?”

“Don’t you look at me that way, Melanie Ann. I didn’t have a choice.” She walked around Melanie and returned the bread to the oven. “But I’m sorry if you’re upset.”

“What just happened?” Melanie repeated through gritted teeth as her mother stirred the sauce, turned the burner on again and covered the pan with a lid.

“He’s doing you a favor,” Loretta said briskly. “The least we can do is offer him dinner for his troubles.”