Kiss The Cook

guy, could he? All that male pulchritude and nice? Nah. Impossible.

He threw back his head and laughed at something Nana said, and Melanie shook her head in wonder. If he wasn't nice, he was doing a damn good imitation of it. Darn it! He had to be a creep. She wanted him to be a creep. She needed a reason to tell him to get lost so her hormones would sit down and shut up.

He and Nana burst out laughing again, and Melanie's heart squeezed. Her common sense told her this was bad. Exceedingly bad. Her hormones broke out into a rousing chorus of 'Our Day Will Come.'

'Did you say something, dear?' Nana asked.

Melanie started out of her reverie. 'Huh?'

'You were mumbling. Something about hormones.' Nana peered at her over her bifocals. 'Are you okay? You look flushed.'

Melanie grabbed a doughnut. 'I'm fine. The coffee's making me hot.' Yup. The coffee's making me hot. That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.

They polished off the doughnuts in record time. Chris helped load the dishwasher, a gesture that sent Nana into a near swoon. When they finished cleaning up, Nana enfolded Chris in one of her famous bone-crushing hugs. 'Any man who brings doughnuts and loads the dishwasher is okay in my book.' She clapped him on the back with such enthusiasm that he almost fell down. 'You're welcome at Casa Gibson anytime, young man.' In a loud aside to Melanie, she added, 'Don't let this one get away. He's a real honey. Great legs, too.' She patted her frizzy hair. 'Well, I'd better go fix myself up and set my hair. See you young folks later.'

Melanie breathed a sigh of relief. Ten more minutes and Nana would be hinting about something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.

Chris leaned his hips against the gleaming white countertop and smiled. 'Your nana is quite a character.'

Melanie's hackles rose. No one insulted Nana and got away with it. 'Character? What's that supposed to mean?'

'Hey! Relax. I meant she's great. Very funny. I like her a lot.'

Drat. He liked Nana. Didn't think she was a pest. And Nana obviously liked him. Why couldn't he have said what her last date said? Something to the effect that Nana was a crazy old bag. Then she could have sizzled him with a withering glance and told her hormones to take a hike. She glanced over at him. His profile was awesome. She needed a cold shower.

'So, do you want to observe while I look at your car,' Chris asked, 'or are you going to whip up some dessert?'

'Dessert? We just ate breakfast!'

'I meant for the cookout.'

She stared at him. 'What cookout?'

He stared back at her. 'The cookout at my mother's house. Today. At two o'clock.'

She shook her head. 'I'm drawing a blank. Am I supposed to know about this?'

He laid his hand on her forehead. 'Hmmm. No fever, but your short-term memory is shot.'

Melanie stepped back from his disturbing touch. No fever? Coulda fooled her. She felt like she was melting from the inside out. 'Refresh my memory.'

'My proposition. I fix your car, and you come with me to the family cookout. I need a date so my mother doesn't try to fix me up with every single woman within a fifty-mile radius.' He paused. 'And we need to bring dessert.'

Melanie cocked a brow at him. 'Wow. What a romantic invitation. Be still my heart.'

A devilish gleam sparkled in his eyes. He took her hand, entwined their fingers, and placed a warm kiss on the palm of her hand. 'You want romance?'

'Yes. I mean No! I mean stop kissing my hand.' She tried to snatch her hand away, but he held on tight, his eyes glittering with unmistakable mischief.

'Nana seemed to like the idea,' he said. 'She can't wait to go.'

'Nana?' Melanie croaked. 'My Nana? When did she agree to this?'

Chris shook his head. 'It's terrible how the heat affects some people,' he said, his expression filled with pity. 'I told you in the foyer. Before breakfast. Nana and I discussed the plans while we were eating. Where were you?'

'I was, er, preoccupied, I guess.'

'Well, you seem lucid now. So what do you say?' He dipped his head and looked up at her, a look no breathing woman could possibly be immune to. 'C'mon. Nana already said yes. And you'd really be doing me a favor.'

'Favor? Well, I guess so. I'd say I owe you one. Probably two, if you're the scorekeeping sort.'

He ran his index finger down the bridge of her nose, causing a legion of chills to skitter down her spine. 'I'm the scorekeeping sort, and you owe me three,' he said softly.

'Three! How do you figure that?'

'One for blocking in my car, one for my ruined suit, and one for jump-starting your car. That's three.'

'I gave you chicken, so you're down to two.'

'I gave you a ride home. Three.'

'I invited you in for breakfast. Two.'

'I brought Boston creme doughnuts. Three.'

Melanie shook her head. 'Oh, all right. Three. Sheesh. You sound more like a lawyer than an accountant.'

He shot her a woebegone look that reminded Melanie of a sad puppy.

'Hey!' she protested, suppressing a grin. 'Quit looking at me like that. I bet you practice that look in front of the mirror. No fair.'

'I'm desperate. My mother wants to fix me up with some woman who has got two heads, breathes fire, and could eat me in one gulp.' He chucked her under her chin. 'Come on,' he coaxed. 'It'll be fun. And you'll get your car fixed for your trouble.'

Melanie narrowed her eyes. 'If, and I do mean if I save your sorry butt from the 'dragon lady,' then you have to call us even on the favor thing.'

'You drive a hard bargain, Mel Gibson.'

'Damn straight. And I have to be home early. I need to gather some papers for an appointment tomorrow morning.'

He held out his hand. 'Deal.'

Melanie shook his hand, trying to ignore the zing of pleasure that zoomed up her arm at his touch. 'Deal. Now haul it outside and fix my car.'

He clicked his heels together and saluted her. 'Aye, aye, Captain.' He brushed past her, then paused in the doorway. 'About dessert-Nana said she'd bake a cheesecake, so anything chocolate would be great.' Flashing her a deadly grin and a big wink, he left. The front door closed several seconds later.

Melanie collapsed in a chair and waved her hand in front of her face in a hopeless effort to cool off.

Yup. She was in trouble for sure.

* * *

An hour later, Melanie stepped outside into the oppressive heat carrying a frosted mug of lemonade. Laughter bubbled up in her throat at the sight that greeted her eyes. The only part of Chris that was visible were his legs. The rest of him was under her car. As much as she didn't want to, Melanie couldn't help but admire those muscular, tanned male legs.

Walking up to him, she tapped his Reebok with her Nike. 'I brought you something to drink.'

She watched him scoot out, moving sideways like a sand crab. When his head was clear, he stood up and wiped his dirty hands with an equally dirty rag. He was sweaty, rumpled, and sported a smudge of something black on his jaw. How could he possibly look so incredibly sexy?

He took the proffered lemonade and drained it in a series of nonstop gulps that drew Melanie's attention to the strong column of his tanned throat. When he finished, he touched the cold mug to his forehead. 'Thanks. I needed that.'

'Want some more?'