she asked cautiously.
“Then you show up with some of his favorite gourmet food—I’ll help you plan the menu—and your marketing plan. He won’t be able to resist.”
There were so many things wrong with that scheme, Melanie didn’t know where to begin. If doing a presentation in a restaurant was awkward and unprofessional, then chasing the man to some out-of-the-way cottage was downright ludicrous and rife with the potential for disaster.
“If he goes there to relax, won’t he be furious if I intrude?” she asked, trying to curb Destiny’s enthusiasm for the idea.
Destiny waved off her concern. “He doesn’t go there to relax. He goes there to get more work done. He says it’s less noisy than his place here.”
“Then I’ll still be an unwelcome interruption,” Melanie protested.
“Not if we get the menu exactly right,” Destiny said. “The way to a man’s heart, et cetera. I have a few bottles of his favorite wine right here. You can take those along, too.”
Melanie wasn’t convinced. “It seems a little risky. No, it seems a lot risky. I am not one of his favorite people right now.”
Her comment fell on deaf ears. “Anything worth having is worth a little risk,” Destiny said blithely. “What can he do? Slam the door in your face? I’ve raised him better than that.”
That didn’t sound so awful. Melanie weighed the prospect of facing Richard’s annoyance once again against the possibility of getting a dream contract for her new company. Landing Carlton Industries would be a coup. Helping to shape Richard Carlton’s first run for political office would be an even bigger one, especially if he won. In this politics-happy region where candidates from every state in the country abounded, she’d soon be able to name her own price.
Making her decision, she gave Destiny a weak smile. “Okay, then. What am I serving?”
Chapter Two
Three large hampers of food arrived at Melanie’s small home in Alexandria’s Delray neighborhood not far from historic Old Town at two o’clock on Friday, along with a heavy vellum envelope addressed in Destiny’s elaborate script. Melanie regarded it all with grim resignation. This was really going to happen. She was really going to invade Richard Carlton’s privacy and try to convince him that he needed her—professionally, at any rate.
As soon as the uniformed chauffeur bowed and left, Melanie’s assistant and best friend slipped out of the office that had been created from what was meant to be the master bedroom in the 1940s-era house, peeked into the wicker baskets crowding the foyer, then turned to her.
“Wow, Mel, is someone trying to seduce you?” Becky asked, clearly intrigued by the excess.
“Hardly,” Melanie said. “In fact, I’m pretty sure the hope is that I’ll seduce Richard Carlton.”
Becky gave her a hard, disbelieving look. “I thought that meeting went really, really badly.”
“It did. But his aunt seems to think I can salvage it, if I just ply him with food and alcohol in a secluded little cottage by the sea.”
Becky, who had solid business instincts under her romantic facade, didn’t seem impressed by the theory. “And how exactly are you supposed to coax him into going there with you?”
“Destiny is taking care of that.” Melanie slit open the envelope, read the message, glanced at the two sheets of typed instructions included, then sighed.
“What’s that?” Becky asked, eyeing the papers with suspicion.
“My marching orders,” Melanie said wryly. “She even thought to include cooking instructions. She must know about my tendency to burn water.”
Becky chuckled, caught Melanie’s sour look and immediately sobered. “Since you’ve apparently bought into this idiotic scheme, then I think it was very thoughtful of her.”
“I’m sure she was just thinking of her nephew’s health.”
“Tell me again why she’s so determined to help you land this contract,” Becky prompted.
“I wish I could say that I’d impressed the hell out of her with my professional credentials, but that’s not it. She thinks Richard is stuffy and I’m a breath of fresh air,” Melanie explained. At least that had been the reason Destiny had expressed for going to all this trouble.
“In other words, she has an ulterior motive,” Becky concluded, leaping to her own conclusion. “The whole seduction thing.”
“Don’t say that,” Melanie pleaded, not liking that Becky had almost instantly confirmed her own suspicions. “Don’t even think it. This is business, not personal.”
“Yeah, right.”
“It is, at least for me. If I get this contract, I will no longer have to lie awake nights worrying about whether I can pay your salary.”
“Then by all means, get down to this cottage and start cooking,” Becky said, snapping the lids on the hampers closed. “By the way, if that pie doesn’t win him over, then the man’s not human. It smells heavenly. I had a candle once that smelled exactly like that, like warm cherry pie just out of the oven. Every time I lit it, I ate. I gained ten pounds before the darn thing finally burned out.”
Melanie chuckled. From the day they’d met in college, Becky had claimed that everything up to and including high humidity caused her to gain weight. She was constantly bemoaning the ten pounds she supposedly needed to lose. The extra weight hadn’t hurt her social life. She had the kind of lush curves that caused men to fall all over themselves whenever she walked into a room.
“Come on, Mel, have a heart and get this stuff out of here,” she begged now. “I’ll hold down the fort for the rest of the day.”
Melanie knew she couldn’t very well back out now. She’d agreed to this crazy scheme. She had to follow through with it, and she might as well get on the road and get it over with. Reluctantly she gathered up her coat, her purse and her business plan for Carlton Industries.
“You’re going to have to help me haul this food out to the car,” she said. “I think Destiny went a little overboard and packed enough for the weekend, not just dinner.”
“Maybe she has high hopes for just how well dinner is going to go,” Becky suggested, struggling to balance two heavy wicker baskets as she followed Melanie to her car.
“Or maybe she’s counting on a blizzard,” Melanie replied grimly. It would be just her luck to get herself snowed in with a man who’d all but said he never wanted to lay eyes on her again. “Have you seen a weather report?”
“Haven’t needed to,” Becky said, gesturing toward the western sky, which was a dull gray, the usual precursor to snow.
Melanie groaned. “Okay, then, if it does snow and I’m not back on Monday, promise me you’ll come and dig me out. Buy a damn snowplow if you have to.”
“Maybe I’ll just wait to hear you confirm that on Monday,” Becky
