from balding old fogies.”
Melanie waited to hear what Richard would say to that. It would tell her a lot about his diplomacy and tact, to say nothing of hinting at his opinion of her professional skills. Not that he had much to go on yet.
He met the senator’s gaze. “I’d recommend you hire her yourself,” he said, then grinned. “But not until I’m in office.”
“Then you are definitely running for Council in Alexandria?” the presidential aide asked.
“Definitely considering it,” Richard admitted as he and Melanie had just agreed.
Listening to him, she decided he was going to be a quick study, which would make her job much easier.
“Why not for Congress?” Senator Furhman asked. “Waste of time, a man of your caliber starting at the bottom like that.”
“Public service at any level is never a waste of time,” Richard said, an edge in his voice.
“Well, of course not,” all three men were quick to say.
Melanie grinned at the smooth way Richard had put them in their place without overtly offending them or suggesting that their own ambitions were in any way suspect. He was going to be a good candidate, no question about it. No one would rattle him.
“Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us, Melanie and I have things to discuss tonight.” He leaned down and gave his aunt a kiss. “Sorry. We can’t stay.”
Melanie and Mack both gave him a startled look. Richard merely gave them an enigmatic smile.
“You ready, sweetheart?” he asked her.
The seemingly deliberate use of the endearment caught Melanie off guard. It was impossible to tell if it had been meant for Destiny’s benefit or for that of her friends or maybe even for Pete Forsythe’s ears.
“Darling,” Richard prodded when she remained silent. “Ready?”
Melanie nodded numbly. “Sure.”
Not until they were outside in the cold night air waiting for the limo to reappear did she face him and demand, “What was that about?”
“You mean the hasty exit?”
“That and the hint that we had more fascinating ways to spend the evening? I thought we’d decided that was a bad message to be putting out there.”
“You thought so. I don’t. Besides, this message was specifically for my aunt. We’ve agreed to that,” he said.
Melanie wasn’t appeased. “You said it in front of witnesses, who are even now probably seeking out Forsythe to spill what they heard.”
“I’m tired of worrying about him.”
“You have to worry about him,” Melanie said impatiently. “You have to use the media to get your message across, not feed their appetite for intrigue. I thought you’d promised to listen to my advice.”
“I did, which is why we got out of there, so I can listen to what you have to say and hear myself think.” He opened the door of the limo for her. “I’m starved. Why don’t we pick up something and take it back to your place?”
Melanie frowned at the suggestion. “You’re not getting any crazy ideas of a personal nature, are you?”
He laughed. “Several of them, to be honest, but I’ll settle for going over those résumés.”
She shook her head. “You really know how to show a girl a good time.”
“Before you get too huffy, wait till you see what I have in mind for takeout,” he said. “I guarantee you’ll like it better than the rubber chicken on the menu back there.”
“If you say so,” she said, still not entirely convinced that he wasn’t up to no good.
He settled Melanie in the limo, then went up front to have a private word with the driver. When he came back, he said, “He’ll drop us off, then bring back dinner.”
Melanie knew she ought to be ecstatic that they were no longer under Destiny’s watchful eye and were far from Pete Forsythe’s speculative gaze. She ought to be even happier that they were actually going to talk business.
Instead, all she could think about was how dangerous it was going to be for her to be alone with Richard with no one around to stop her if either one of them lost control of their apparently madcap hormones.
“You’re going to want to change out of that dress before dinner,” Richard said the minute they walked into Melanie’s living room.
She gave him a suspicious look. “Oh?”
He grinned. “I’m not telling you to slip into something more comfortable,” he chided. “Though if that’s what you want to do, I won’t object. I have a particular fondness for women in satin and lace.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” she retorted. “I’m thinking a sweat suit.”
To her surprise, he grinned. “Make it an old one.”
“Why?”
“That dinner I ordered doesn’t exactly mix with high fashion. Of course, if you want to live dangerously…” His voice trailed off.
Melanie stared at him. She couldn’t quite get a fix on this oddly playful mood of his. “What on earth did you order?” she asked suspiciously.
“It’s a surprise. I think you’ll be very happy.”
“You don’t know enough about my taste in food to be able to make that claim,” she retorted.
“Sure, I do.”
“How?”
“You have your resources. I have mine. Unless you intend to be totally stubborn, go change. I’ll fix us a drink. Do you have any red wine?”
She actually had several bottles of the wine she knew he preferred. She was not proud of the fact that she’d gone out and bought them, hoping for an occasion like this.
“There’s a wine rack in the kitchen,” she told him. “The selection’s hardly as extensive as what you must have, but there’s bound to be something there that will do.”
Relieved to have him occupied, she fled to her room to change. She abandoned the baggy sweat suit idea—she did have some pride, after all—and settled for a comfortable pair of slim-fitting jeans and a becoming russet sweater.
She was on her way back to the living room, when the doorbell rang. The chauffeur stood on the stoop with two huge insulated bags designed to keep carryout food hot. Melanie stared at the familiar logo on the bags, mouth gaping.
“You ordered barbecue?” she asked as Richard came up behind her and took the bags. “From Ohio?”
“Your assistant said you go into
