Some Like It Hot (10 page)

In his elegant, form-fitting tux, he outshone every man in the place. But it wasn’t the tuxedo that lent him his powerful sexual allure. Indeed, if he’d been wearing nothing but black woolen socks he would still have overshadowed them all.

Melanie found herself trying to imagine exactly what he did look like beneath those fancy duds, and she heated from the inside out.

Everyone was staring at him—the men with envy, the women with desire. And Wilmer looked as if he wanted to take out a gun and shoot him.

Melanie would be leaving the party with this guy….

Her benefactor settled up with the event coordinator as Melanie stepped down off the stage and the next bachelorette came on to take her place.

“Lucky girl,” Grand-mère Celeste said from behind her. “You ended up with the best man in the house.”

Melanie looked at her grandmother. “Did you set this up?”

“Charlotte and I couldn’t very well let that weaselly Wilmer Haddock win you, now could we?”

“Thank you, Grand-mère!” She turned and hugged her grandmother. “What do I do now?”

“Go have fun.”

The other bachelorettes had gone with their dates to the party in the next room, where a jazz band was playing. But there was nothing in the rules of the auction that said Melanie had to stay here at the costume ball with
her
date.

The Phantom strode toward her with an air of supreme confidence. He reached her just about the time she realized she’d stopped breathing. She felt light-headed and downright giddy. And the disguise of the masks made it all the more fun.

He held out his arm.

Their eyes met.

Her stomach churned.

He smiled.

Without a word passing between them, she took his elbow. He nodded at Grand-mère Celeste. She smiled back.

The Phantom swept Melanie from the auditorium, but stopped in the corridor, inclining his head first to the ballroom and then to the exit door.

Which way?
His eyes silently asked.

She met his gaze and smiled coyly.
You figure it out
.

He nodded knowingly, took her to the coat closet to claim her cloak, and then escorted her toward the exit. They stepped out into the cool night air of the courtyard, both still wearing their masks.

The minute they were on the street, she pulled away from him. “Just who are you?”

His smile was enigmatic. “Can’t you guess?”

“R
OBERT
,”
SHE SAID
and there was no missing the purr of pleasure in her voice. “It’s you.”

“Melanie.” He grinned.

He felt like the lead in some romantic movie—tuxedos, high-society bachelorette auctions, moonlight and a beautiful woman looking at him as if he’d hung the stars in the sky just for her. It had been a very long time since he’d felt like this, and it scared him as much as it thrilled him.

“I can’t believe you just did that.” Playfully, Melanie swatted his arm. “Why did you do that for me?”

“I’m a sucker for a damsel in distress.”

She pointed a finger at him. “You were in cahoots with Grand-mère Celeste.”

“Sort of. Charlotte came to see me and told me how distressed you were over this Wilmer Haddock character bidding on you. She approached your grandmother about it, and Celeste offered to go in half with me on the charity money if I’d outbid Haddock.”

“Oh, that was so sweet of Charlotte. And it was sweet of you, too, Robert. That’s a sizable donation to charity, even with Grand-mère pitching in half.”

“It’s for a worthy cause, and the important thing is that you
and I get to spend some time alone together away from the kitchen. But thank you for taking the microphone away from the emcee and ending the auction when you did.”

She slid him a sidelong glance that started something unraveling inside him. “You really want to spend the evening with me?”

“Hell, yes.”

“I hate to tell you, Robert, but all you had to do was ask and you could have had me for free.”

“But then I wouldn’t have been able to make a grand gesture, would I?”

“I suppose not.”

Suddenly, Robert felt unsure of himself. He thought of his awkward teenage years, when he hadn’t had a father to teach him how to behave around girls. He felt as inept now as he had then. But he’d be damned if he’d let Melanie see his vulnerability. To bolster his courage, he stepped closer, encroaching on her space, taking control. Doing the one thing that had always made him feel secure.

His plan to unsettle her so she couldn’t see exactly how much she unsettled him had succeeded. Melanie took a step back and peered at him nervously. He watched the column of her throat move as she swallowed.

“So, um, what do you want to do now?”

“There’s a party going on in there.” He inclined his head toward the house they’d just left. “Live band, lots of food. Your grandmother pulled out all the stops.”

“I don’t really enjoy those uptight society events. Too much meaningless small talk.”

“What do you like?”

“Let’s do something fun,” she said. “Something wild and
crazy in these monkey suits and masks. Something you’ve never done before.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Just something unexpected.”

He felt the immense pressure of wanting to please her. Of coming up with something to keep that fire sparking in her eyes. He searched his brain, but all he think of was the usual tourist stuff.

“Riverboat gambling?”

“Nah.”

“Jazz club?”

“Not in the mood. Although snuggling in a darkened club does have its appeal.” She flashed him an impish grin.

“I’m going to confess, it’s a little hard to top wild and crazy for a woman raised in New Orleans.”

“I’ve got it.” She snapped her fingers. “There’s a carnival in town set up near the pier.”

“A carnival?”

“We could ride the merry-go-round. I adore merry-go-rounds. Come with me, Phantom.”

She took his hand, and right then, he decided to allow her to lead him astray.

They walked the crowded streets in their finery and masks, but in a town like New Orleans they barely caused a stir. A few tourists craned their necks for a second look, but that was all. They reached the pier after a half hour stroll. The sky had darkened since they’d left the auction, and the wind had picked up, but the water was strangely calm.

The pier was strung with lights—white, red and yellow bulbs beckoning them closer. Since it was the middle of the week, the crowd was light.

They ambled past the arcade, where the carnival barkers urged them to try their luck at games of chance. Ring-toss, blow up a balloon with a water gun, and whack-a-mole. Robert hadn’t been to a carnival since he was a small child. He hadn’t even realized traveling carnivals like this one still existed.

Immediately to the left was a small roller coaster built to look like an elaborate mousetrap. Passengers screamed as the cars soared, then plummeted. To the right were bumper cars, and straight ahead lay the merry-go-round.

Robert bought red coupon tickets at the booth and then handed them to the ride operator. The man took down the rope and motioned for them to get on the carousel.

Twirling up onto the platform, Melanie looked like a Christmas tree angel in her silver dress, her hair twisted up in an elegant chignon. He’d never seen her so graceful and ladylike. This other side to her showed him how little he really knew about her, and anticipation grew deep inside him.

Melanie chose a bright red horse, its saucy head thrown back, mane flowing. She hiked up her skirt and swung her leg over the aging fiberglass animal. His tomboy was back in all her boisterous glory. And as much as he liked her dressed up and dazzling, he preferred the Melanie he knew best.

Robert sat down in a chariot. When the ride started, Melanie’s horse soared up and down, but Robert’s chariot didn’t move.

“Fuddy-duddy.” Melanie poked fun at him for his choice.

“This tux is a rental,” he said. “I don’t want to mess it up.”

“A likely story. As if riding the chariot will keep your suit any cleaner than being on a horse.”

“You got me,” he confessed. “Although I imagine more sticky-fingered kids go for the horse than the chariot.”

She looked wickedly beautiful in the gown. It clung to her curves, and her indigo eyes sparkled behind that mysterious mask. It would be so easy to fall in love with her.

Too damn easy.

“I know the real reason you won’t ride the horse with me.” She had to shout to be heard above the loud calliope music as they went around and around.

“Yeah?”

“It’s a metaphor.”

He grabbed the pole of her horse and stood up beside her so she didn’t have to keep shouting at him. “A metaphor?”

“Selecting the chariot over a horse is a metaphor for everything you want to avoid.” Her head bobbed up and down as, the carousel spun. “Safety over adventure, neatness over fun.”

“A settled stomach over nausea.”

“I suppose.” She grinned. “If living life to the fullest makes you nauseous.”

The merry-go-around slowed, along with the movement of her horse. The music faded.

“At least my way, when the ride is over, you don’t throw up,” he said.

“Maybe not. But you’re left wondering if you could have enjoyed yourself more.”

When the carousel came to a stop, Melanie hopped off.

“Let’s get cotton candy,” she said.

Without waiting for him, she took off toward the concession stand and bought blue cotton candy on a stick. She wasn’t carrying a purse and had to take off her shoe to retrieve her money.

Robert shook his head. Here she was, dressed like royalty and digging money from her shoe like a kid.

Lightning flashed in the distance toward the Gulf of Mexico, followed by a hollow rumble of thunder. It was going to rain soon. He should nudge her toward home.

“Storm’s coming,” he said, nodding at the sky. “We should probably wrap this up.”

“Mmm, wanna bite?” She peeled off a chunk of wispy blue cotton candy and offered it to him.

“No, that’s okay. You go ahead.”

“Your loss. It’s great stuff.”

“It’s spun sugar and food coloring. How great can it be?”

“See there,” Melanie said. “That’s your basic problem. You can’t enjoy something simply for the sake of enjoying it.”

“What can I say? I’m driven to analyze.”

“That you are.”

They avoided Bourbon Street—it was always too crowded, especially as Mardi Gras approached—but the sounds of New Orleans jazz drifted into the night.

“This must have been a bizarre town to grow up in,” he said. “Did you ever do the
Girls Gone Wild
thing and flash your—” his gaze fell to her cleavage and he couldn’t help grinning “—um…assets for free beads?”

“That’s tourist stuff. We lived here. We could get all the cheap beads we wanted. Besides, we were pretty sheltered. Catholic schools, strict curfew…”

“That explains your rebellious streak. Catholic schools. I went to them, too.”

“No kidding.” She eyed him coquettishly behind her mask.

“No kidding.”

“But you’re not rebellious.”

“I guess my life was chaotic enough. I didn’t have anything to rebel against. I wanted things nice and quiet.”

“That explains a lot.” Melanie broke off another chunk of cotton candy. “Sure you don’t want a bite?”

“No, you go right ahead.”

“Where to now?” she asked.

Robert glanced at the sky. “Rain’s coming. Maybe we should call it a night.”

“What’s a little rain? Contrary to popular opinion, I don’t melt when I get wet.” She waved a hand at the distant lightning. “The storm is still a long ways off.”

“It’s almost ten—tomorrow’s going to be jammed preparing for the Charboneaux-Long rehearsal dinner,” he reminded her.

“If you want to blow me off, just blow me off. No need to make up excuses.”

“I’m not making up excuses. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than with you.”

“Really?” Her smile was genuine.

“You find it hard to believe that I want to be with you. Why’s that?”

“I get this feeling you’re always holding back when we’re together. Is it me or is that the natural Robert?”

“I just thought that maybe you wanted out of the date.”

“No way. Are you kidding? I’ve finally got you away from that kitchen.” She reached up and traced a slightly sticky finger along his jaw. “Why don’t we pretend that time has stopped? Tomorrow does not exist. Yesterday does not exist. Only now is real. Under these conditions, what would you like to do next?”

Kiss you,
he thought, but said, “I am pretty tired. I got up at five-thirty this morning.”

She raised a hand. “Tut, tut. This morning is in the past. It does not exist. Are you telling me you’d rather go to sleep than kiss me right here under a big cloud-shrouded moon in the French Quarter?”

It was amazing, the way she could read his mind.

“You’ve got your hands full of cotton candy,” Robert pointed out.

She searched for a trash can, spotted one on the corner and took off at a run. Once she’d dumped the cotton candy in the trash, she raced back.

“All gone,” she said breathlessly, teetering on her high heels. She puckered up and leaned toward him.

“Well, it’s pretty clear what you want to do.”

“Just shut up and kiss me,” she said.

“And you say I’m bossy. I—”

But he didn’t get to finish his sentence. She plastered her lips to his and he tasted the wonderful combination of sticky blue cotton candy and warm, moist Melanie.

He knew he was in over his head. He had known it when they were locked in the supply closet together, but he’d tried to tell himself it was nothing. This kiss refuted that argument.

A kiss wasn’t just a kiss.

Not when it involved the tomboyish brunette pressed solidly against him in her silver gown.

Their masks rubbed together, making an erotic squeaking sound of plastic against plastic. The barrier should have created distance between them, but strangely enough it seemed to increase the intimacy. Their noses and foreheads
and cheeks were covered, leaving only their eyes and their mouths to make contact.

They gazed into each other’s eyes as their tongues dueled and their masks rubbed and their bodies sparked. He ached for her, and the sheer intensity of his aching unsettled him. Wanting her this badly made him too damn needy.

He didn’t like being vulnerable. It scared him too much. Made him think about all the things he’d lost and he was tired of losing things.

Enough.

Forcibly, he tore himself away from her.

“Wow.” Melanie reached up to touch her lips. “That was better than the last time.”

“We shouldn’t be kissing,” he said. “I shouldn’t be kissing you.”

“Yeah? Then why did you come to the auction? Why did you bid on me?”

“I didn’t want you to get stuck with someone like your friend Zorro.”

“Why not?” she asked. “Why should you care?”

Robert lifted his shoulders. He didn’t want to answer that question.

“Jealous maybe?” she teased.

“How can I be jealous of you?” he asked. “We’re not a couple.”

“No,” she said. “We’re not.”

“Do you want to be a couple?”

“No, no.” She shook her head. “Do you?”

“Not if you don’t.”

“But if I did, would you?”

He reached out and took her shoulders in both his hands.
Her eyelashes scraped softly against her mask when she blinked. “You already know how attracted I am to you.”

“But attraction does not a relationship make.”

“Right.”

“I’d want to go to parties. You’d want to stay home and read. I’d want to trek in the Himalayas, climb Everest, and you’d want to stay home and organize the garage.”

“You want to climb Mount Everest?”

“Figure of speech. But if the opportunity arose, I wouldn’t want to miss out just because the garage needed cleaning.”

“We could always cook.”

“Ah, our one point of connection. Food.”

“It is a strong shared value. Everyone has to eat.”

They were polar opposites, but the fact remained: whenever he was with her, Robert felt more alive, more real, more like his true self than he had ever felt with anyone else.

“I know what we can do,” she said. “Let’s have our palms read by one of those fortune-tellers in Jackson Square. Let’s go see if we’re fated to be together or if we’re a train wreck waiting to happen.”

She took his hand and pulled him in the direction she wanted him to go.

God help him, but he felt so alive when he was with her. He didn’t possess that kind of joie de vivre himself, and maybe that was why he was so attracted to people who did.