She's Got the Look (12 page)

“Gag me.”

Shrugging, he said, “It worked
really
well on sixteen-year-old girls.”

“So save it for them.”

Dex cleared his throat. “Uh, please don't. I'd hate to arrest you now that I've finally started breaking you in.”

“Ha. Nobody else would put up with you,” Nick said. “Now, as much as I enjoy being the butt of your jokes, I suppose I ought to introduce you two, though I might live to regret it. Dex, meet Melody Tanner. Melody, this is my partner Dex Delaney, more recently known as Rosemary Chilton's arm candy.”

Snorting, Dex stuck out his hand and Melody shook it. “Thank you for not killing Rosemary. I was checking the odds on that right up until it was time to come here tonight,” he said.

“
I
was checking the odds on whether she'd
be
here tonight,” Nick added.

“Back to that again?” Melody said. Glancing at Dex, she said, “I haven't killed her
yet.
” Then she turned to Nick. “And I haven't said I'm staying.”

A smile making his green eyes sparkle, Dex said, “I'd really prefer to keep Rosemary alive for a little longer. At least long enough for me to teach that woman how to make a bagel without burning it.”

Melody sighed and shook her head. “I'm afraid if you want Rosemary, you're going to have to get used to room service and crêpes suzette for breakfast.”

“Spoiled brat,” Dex said. “I need to take her up into the mountains to do some camping and fishing.”

“I think she'd prefer that I kill her,” Melody said.

Dex laughed aloud. “She can be a handful, can't she?”

“But you seem to be doing okay,” Melody replied. Her tone grew a little more serious as she admitted, “She seems happy.”

Dex didn't respond to that. Instead he offered to go get Melody a drink. Leave it to his partner to know without asking that Nick wanted a minute alone with her.

“Actually, I don't want anything. Why don't you tell me how you and Rosemary met? Have you met the rest of her family? I think they're coming tonight.” Her words were hurried, and she actually put her hand on Dex's arm to prevent him from leaving.

Coward.
In spite of being surrounded by people, she was afraid to be alone with Nick. Which really amused him.

Melody might claim to have crossed him off her list on paper. But he didn't think she'd done so in her head.

“I've met Deidre and Brian,” Dex said. Turning to Nick, he explained, “Rosemary's sister and her stepbrother.” Then he lifted his nearly empty glass to his mouth and drained it before stiffly adding, “But not her parents. I don't think they're exactly thrilled that the princess is dating…”

“A cop?” Nick asked, stiffening on his partner's behalf.

“A
Northern
cop.”

Melody nodded in commiseration. Since she'd known Rosemary and her family for years, maybe she could grasp the whole rich-parents-disapproving thing. But as far as Nick was concerned, Rosemary's parents were morons. Because their daughter would never in her lifetime find a better guy than Dex Delaney.

“They're actually not so bad,” Melody murmured. “Her whole family has helped me out a lot since I've been back.” She glanced around the crowded party. “Speaking of which, I should probably track down Brian. He's in charge of Rosemary's father's rental properties. And I've got some leaky pipes.”

“Nick is pretty handy,” Dex said, looking so innocent that even Nick almost believed he was being nothing but helpful. But he knew better. Dex might be honest and forthright, but he did occasionally like to amuse himself by yanking other people's chains. Maybe that was why he and Rosemary got along so well.

Melody stammered something—probably excuses about why she'd want anyone
except
Nick near her
pipes
—when someone interrupted.

“Mel, honey! Welcome home!” An older version of Rosemary descended on them, the resemblance so strong that Nick immediately pegged her as the sister. Beside her was a man about her age but not resembling the flamboyant woman in any way. His shoulders were slightly hunched and he kept his head tilted down so that his pale hair fell over his eyes, as if he were terribly shy.

Unlike the blonde. “I'm
so
sorry to hear about the nonsense you went through up in Atlanta, but you're home now.” The woman air-kissed both of Melody's cheeks, then put her hands on her shoulders and looked her over. “You've gained weight.”

Nick bristled on Melody's behalf, but before he could say anything, the woman continued, “Which is wonderful. Darling, you were skin and bones in the old days. Now you look like a
woman.
”

“Nice to see you, too, Deidre,” Melody said. Then she turned toward the man. “Brian, we were
just
talking about you.”

The guy's eyes widened in surprise, as if he'd never expect a beautiful woman to talk about him for any reason. No self-confidence, that was for sure. He was surprised the man was related to Rosemary and her sister at all, even if only through marriage, because judging by this brief glimpse of Deidre, she was every bit the outspoken spoiled princess her sister was.

“Hi, Melody. How is the darkroom w-working out? Is there anything you n-need?” Brian said, his voice soft and tentative.

She squeezed his shoulder. “It's great, thank you so much for your hard work. But I did want to ask you about something.”

Before she could ask Brian to check out her pipes—which would probably have sent the man right over the edge and destroyed his speaking ability completely—they were startled by a woman's shriek. Nick and Dex reacted in nearly synchronized timing, spinning toward the noise, instantly going into cop mode.

Thankfully, he didn't see any crime being committed. No woman was being manhandled, nor had anybody stumbled into the fountain or had a drink tossed in her face. Instead, there was simply the same attractive, petite woman with curly, light brown hair and freckles who'd been driving the moving truck the first time he'd met Melody. She was staring wide-eyed and openmouthed.

At
him.

“Oh, my God,” she sputtered.

Staring? No. This had quickly progressed to gawking. The woman's mouth was hanging open and her eyes were almost protruding out of their sockets.

Others at the party had apparently heard her squeal, because a dozen or more people stared over in curiosity. The buzz of conversation throughout the lawn diminished a bit.

“Ma'am?” he said, wondering if she'd had too much to drink, though it was pretty early in the evening. “Are you all right?”

“She's fine,” a voice snapped from behind him.
Melody.
She stepped between him and Dex, shooting the woman a quelling glance. “That's Paige and she's just fine.
Aren't
you, Paige?”

“But…but, Mel…”

“It's so
nice
to see you. I'm glad you could come. Now let's go find Rosemary,” Melody ordered, taking a few long strides toward the other woman, whom she grabbed by the arm and tried to turn toward the house.

The woman—Paige—didn't move. “But, Mel…”

“
Now,
Paige. Let's go.”

The woman's feet still didn't move. Then, finally, she lifted her hand and pointed a shaky finger. Directly at Nick.

“It's
him!
” she exclaimed in a whisper so loud it could likely be heard at the River Walk. “It's the
Time
magazine hero.”

Nick suddenly understood and controlled a sudden urge to smile. Obviously this was one of the other bridesmaids. One who knew a little too much. Which was why Melody was struggling so hard to drag her away before she could say anything embarrassing.

Too late.

“Don't you recognize him, Mel?” the woman exclaimed, her voice growing even louder in her excitement. “It's the number-one man on your gotta-have-sex-with-him list!”

 

M
AYBE SHE'D LIKE PRISON
. True, orange had never really been her color, and with her reddish hair, it'd probably clash horribly. And Melody couldn't stand stripes. But maybe she'd be lucky and the prison jumpsuit would have vertical stripes…which were slimming, unlike those hideously rounding horizontal ones.

So yes, she might do okay. Which was a good thing, because she was plotting her second murder in three days. If this kept up, she'd be in Rikers by the end of September for sure.

“Paige!” someone snapped, finally interrupting the deafening silence that had followed her friend's outrageous announcement. “You have the biggest mouth in the known universe. Melody's sexual-fantasy list isn't up for public discussion.”

Tanya. Imposing Tanya, who was nearly yelling with indignation. Gee, what a help. At this rate, she was going to have to kill all
three
of her best friends, and then what fun would it have been to come back to Savannah?

“Uh, friends of yours?” Nick murmured. He lifted a brow, watching her, his dark eyes glittering under the light from the torches lining the lawn. “You sure know how to pick 'em.”

If he smiled, she was going to take a swing. Fist or knee. One or the other would be flying if he so much as grinned. And God help the man if he laughed. “You are
so
off my list,” she whispered under her breath, though she knew he heard.

This just
couldn't
be happening. She'd come so close to pulling it off. So very close to sticking to her plan to come to the party and prove to Nick Walker that he hadn't gotten under her skin like a wicked itch she couldn't reach.

It hadn't been easy—her first sight of the man had nearly sent her fleeing into the night. But she'd somehow managed to keep from swallowing her tongue at how utterly perfect Nick Walker looked in a dark, well-cut suit, with his jaw cleanly shaved and his dark hair smoothed back.

He'd been funny and flirtatious, sexy and charming, but she'd held it together. During a few unforgettable moments when she'd caught him staring at her with glittering eyes that spoke of hunger, want and sweet desire, she'd succeeded in remaining clothed and upright when her impulse had said to strip and drop.

Maintaining the right level of cordial but cool, accessible but aloof, she'd been certain that by the end of the evening he'd have accepted the fact that the list—and his possible presence on it—was a joke. A complete joke.

Fate, it seemed, had other plans. Good old fate, Rosemary's excuse for everything. Right now she'd like to take fate and shove it down her best friend's throat.

“What's going on out here?”

Speak of the devil.

Rosemary came barreling down the back steps from the veranda, her heels click-clicking on the stone terrace like teeny little gunshots. Lucky thing for her—and for Paige—that there were no guns within grabbing distance.

“Mel, honey, you're here,” Rosemary said, her tone bright. “I'm so glad you could make it. Did you sneak in the back way? Come in and say hello to everyone.” Then, beneath her breath, she added, “I heard from the patio. We'll brazen it out.”

Rosemary probably figured she was the cavalry. Melody instead pictured her as a moving target.

All around she heard whispers, subdued laughs. Some of these people she recognized as friends from the old days, some were even nice enough to
not
be laughing their asses off at what had happened. But a lot of them were strangers—Rosemary's set—whom she'd apparently invited to broaden Melody's social circle.

Hmm…she'd have to ask Rosemary just how
that
had worked out.

“If you'll all excuse me,” she murmured, amazed at how steady she sounded when inside she was tied in knots, “I think I'll go drown myself in the koi pond.”

“I bet it's not deep enough,” said a low, masculine voice.

Nick. Of course, who else would it be?

“Well, maybe you could stand on me to hold me down,” she responded from between clenched teeth. She kept her chin up and forced herself to ignore the laughs, the winks and the mumbling.

“Jeez, Mel, I'm sorry,” Paige said, apparently realizing what she'd done. Looking sheepish, Paige nibbled her lip as she moved closer. Lowering her voice to a real whisper—
about frigging time
—she added, “Would it help if I told everyone we
all
had sex lists? Eddie's around here somewhere, and he doesn't know about it, but if it'll make you feel better, I'll do it.”

Eddie, Paige's reserved, quiet, engineer husband would probably fall over dead if he found out
half
the intimate details Paige had shared with her friends over the past couple of years.

Melody was tempted for about a second. “Forget it.” Swallowing down a heaping helping of humiliation, she blinked to ensure no stupid tears made it past her lashes. “Hopefully most of these people have had enough to drink that they won't even remember,” she said, hearing the doubt in her voice.

“I wish, darlin'. But I don't think you're that lucky,” Nick said. He sounded amused, though he still didn't dare smile.

“I think my luck ran out Tuesday morning,” she snapped.

“Well, now you've wounded me. Come on, let's go for a walk so you can apologize.” He stepped closer, taking her arm in his, almost imperceptibly bracing her against his tall, hard body. Lending her his quiet support, his strength to lean into. And suddenly she saw the veiled concern in his expression.

He was worried about her. Embarrassed for her. Maybe even feeling a little guilty. She didn't have time to evaluate the absurd fluttering in her stomach caused by his tenderness. It was just so unexpected, so unlike the tough cop she knew him to be. But very much like the guy who'd carried her furniture.