Kiss The Cook

Chris turned off the engine and joined her on the driveway.

Feeling completely unhinged, she paced back and forth. 'Uh-uh. This is too much, too soon. I can't do this.' She stopped in front of him, grasping for any excuse that would save her from this devastating man who threatened the peaceful existence she'd carved out for herself. 'I can't possibly go out with you. You're… you're an accountant, for crying out loud. I can't possibly date an accountant. Accountants are stodgy and boring. Nothing but conservative suits and ties. Numbers and flowcharts.'

She nodded vigorously, desperately trying to convince him-and herself. 'If I was looking for a man-which I'm not-but if I was, it certainly wouldn't be an accountant. It would be a Marlon Brando type.' Yeah. Yeah. That's the ticket.

Doubt was written all over his face. 'You're looking for a three-hundred-pound actor old enough to be your father?'

'No, of course not. I meant a young Marlon Brando. Like in that movie where he's on the motorcycle.'

'So you want a motorcycle kind of guy?'

'Yeah. That's right. I've always wanted to be a biker chick.' She spread her hands, palms up. 'So you see? As tempting as you are, we'd never work this out. You're all actuary tables and balance sheets, and I long for the open road, the wind in my hair, the asphalt beneath me. My motto is-it's motorcycle guys or no guys.'

He nodded his head slowly, never taking his eyes off her. 'I see.'

He saw. Good. Now all she had to do was escape. Before her resolve crumbled to ashes. Holding out her hand, she said, 'Thanks for everything. I had fun.'

He shook her hand. When he tried to pull her closer, Melanie snatched her hand away. 'Good-bye.'

'’Til we meet again,' he corrected with the hint of a smile.

Not if I can help it. Melanie walked into the house, closed the door, and leaned back against it. She heard his car door slam and listened to the Mercedes drive away.

Thank goodness he was gone. She should be thrilled. The man was a hazard to the female population. Yup. She was happy as a clam at high tide. Happy as a flea on a hound dog.

She felt like crying.

Chapter 6

'The only thing all that pacing is gonna give you is varicose veins,' Nana said the next afternoon at the Pampered Palate, peering over her bifocals at Melanie. 'Back and forth. Back and forth. It's like watchin' a dang tennis match. If you don't knock it off, I'm gonna need a chiropractor.'

Melanie raked her hands through her hair. 'I can't help it, Nana. The accountants will be here in an hour. There's so much riding on this independent review-the loan, the truck, Pampered Palate's future.' She stopped and pressed her hand to her flopping stomach. 'Do you realize that if all goes well, we could have our catering truck within two months?'

'A whole lot of good it'll do us if you're in the hospital,' Nana stated. 'Calm yourself. You said everything went fine at the bank this morning.'

'It did,' Melanie agreed, a rush of pleasure washing over her. 'The loan officer was very impressed by the Pampered Palate and our plans for the future.'

Noticing Nana's scowl, Melanie forced herself to sit down. She immediately started shredding a paper napkin emblazoned with the red and blue Pampered Palate logo.

'It's really happening, Nana,' she said, elated and terrified at the same time. 'It looks like our hard work is finally going to pay off.' Nerves cramped her stomach and she groaned. 'Jeez. I hope success isn't going to make me sick.'

'Listen, honey, you've got to relax. Look how well you've done in only a few months.' She patted Melanie's hand. 'Those bankers will give you the loan.'

'Only if we get a favorable review from the accountants.'

Nana huffed out a breath. 'Those accountants give us any trouble, I'll swat them upside their heads with a skillet.'

For the first time in hours, Melanie managed a smile. 'I appreciate it, Nana, but it probably won't help our cause if we're in the slammer for assault and battery.'

Nana puckered her brow and nodded. 'Hmmm. You're right. I guess we'd better settle for Plan B.'

'Plan B?'

'Fresh-baked apple pie. With homemade vanilla ice cream.' A big smile creased Nana's wrinkled face. 'Like I always say, if you can't beat 'em, bribe 'em.'

Melanie laughed. Everything was going to be okay. As always, Nana was there to keep her sane. 'Sounds good to me.'

'You're darn tootin',' Nana said. 'As we're so fond of saying here at the Pampered Palate, let's get cookin'!'

* * *

Chris sat in his corner office and reached for the stack of financial statements piled on his mahogany desk. His morning had consisted of writing a proposal for a new client, a series of budget meetings, and lunch with a prospective new hire.

Turning his attention to the mountain of paperwork awaiting him, he pored over the balance sheets and income and cash flow statements, but he found it difficult to concentrate on the endless columns of figures.

The numbers blurred and ran together as images of Melanie flashed through his mind, distracting him, disrupting his train of thought. Her bright smile and infectious laugh. Those chocolatey eyes and full, kissable lips.

The incredible taste of those full, kissable lips.

Remembering their steamy kisses killed whatever small bit of concentration he had left. Tossing down his pencil in defeat, he decided he needed a strong cup of coffee. He was just about to head for the break room when Glenn Waxman, the senior partner, walked into his office and closed the door behind him.

Chris immediately noticed two things. One, Glenn held a manila folder in one hand. And two, Glenn had his other hand clapped over his mouth.

'What's up, Glenn?'

'Hmmphttpshm,' replied Glenn through his fingers.

Chris laughed. 'I might understand you better if you moved your hand.'

'Hmmphttspm.' Glenn removed his hand and curled back his upper lip.

His two front teeth were gone.

'What the hell happened to you?' Chris asked, staring at the gaping black hole in amazement. The always perfectly groomed Glenn Waxman looked like a full-grown second-grader.

'I lotht my crownth,' Glenn said, his face puckered in a grimace. 'I've got an emergenthy dentith appointment.' He thrust the manila folder into Chris's hands. 'Can you handle thith for me? Shouldn't take you more than an hour.'

'Sure. No problem.'

'Thankth. I owe ya one.'

'How could I say no to a guy who sounds like Daffy Duck?'

'Ha, ha, ha. You're hythterical. Thee you tomorrow.' Glenn clapped his hand over his mouth and left.

Postponing his coffee break for the moment, Chris opened the folder Glenn had given him. He froze the instant he saw the name at the top of the first page.

Melanie Gibson.

His attention riveted, he scanned Glenn's notes. Melanie was applying for a fifty-thousand-dollar loan to purchase a catering truck and had hired Waxman, Barnes, Wiffle, and Hodge to conduct the independent review required by the bank. Chris noted that the bank was one of his firm's clients.