“Only forty-five minutes.”
Damn it. “And you’ve probably been sitting here starving.”
“If I was that hungry, I wouldn’t have waited for you. Give me a minute and I’ll put everything in the microwave to warm it up.”
“No.” Once Mellie left the room, he’d probably crash again. “I’m not that picky. Let’s do this.”
“If you’re sure...”
It occurred to him that sitting up long enough to eat was a daunting proposition, even though he was ravenous. Still, he washed the Tylenol down with the bottle of water and then started in on his chicken.
Mellie ate quietly. She was a restful woman. At least when she wasn’t arguing with him. He managed half of the chicken breast, the roll and a few of the green beans before he admitted defeat. Pushing his plate away, he leaned back in the embrace of the sofa and rested his head, telling himself he was on the mend. Mind over matter. That was his mantra.
His companion looked askance at him. “You need the protein,” she said.
“I had a mother. I don’t need another one.”
Mellie blinked, set down her fork and stood. “I’ll come back when you’re in a better mood.”
The careful rebuke hit its mark.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “Don’t go.”
She crossed her arms at her waist. “I’m getting mixed signals, Case.”
“I know.” It was true. He wanted to be alone to wallow in his misery, but at the same time, he was intrigued by Mellie Winslow and charmed by her matter-of-fact caring.
Her hair glowed tonight, the long strands catching light from the fixture overhead. The sweater she wore was fitted but not tight. Even so, he was well aware of her ample breasts.
“Sit down. Please. I have a proposition for you.”
The expression on her face told him she was evaluating all meanings of that statement. “Um...”
“Oh, hell, Mellie. I can’t even finish dinner. Do you really think I’m going to lure you into my bed?”
“Of course not,” she muttered, looking anywhere but at his face. She sat down hard on the sofa, not so much an act of will as a necessary evil, as if her legs had given out. He knew the feeling.
It was a sure bet she didn’t trust him. But he had a plan to win her over. “I’d like to become a silent partner in the Keep N Clean. With my investment, you wouldn’t have to wait to expand.”
Mellie opened and closed her mouth like a fish gasping for oxygen. She shook her head. “No, thank you.”
He stared at her, his pulse far too rapid. “Maybe you didn’t understand. I’d like to give you fifty thousand dollars. It’s the least I can do to repay you for playing nurse.”
Now his dinner guest looked murderous. “The milk of human kindness is not for sale, Mr. Baxter. Some things in life are free.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly oversensitive?” Aggravation made his head ache like the devil.
She stared him down, her green eyes chilled to the shade of moss. “You hired me to clean and organize your house. An ordinary business arrangement. I neither want nor need your investment money.”
Though it took every ounce of energy he could muster, he levered his body off the sofa and joined her on the love seat. Her spine was so straight it was a wonder it didn’t crack under the weight of her disapproval.
He rested his arm behind her shoulders. “Don’t make a hasty decision, Mellie. This is what I do. I find it very rewarding to help local businesses grow.”
“You don’t get it.”
They were so close he could see the faint, almost imperceptible veins beneath her fair skin. At her temple...in the dip above her collarbone. “So explain it to me,” he urged. “I’m listening.” He was trying to listen, though all he really wanted to do was kiss her.
Mellie’s head was bent, her profile as simple and sweet as a Madonna’s. The feelings she invoked in him, however, were a far cry from religious. More like the temptations of the damned.
She inhaled and exhaled, sliding him a sideways glance that begged for understanding. “The Keep N Clean is mine. I’ve sweated and worried and planned and strategized...every mile of the way. I could have stepped into the family business and worked alongside my father, but I needed something that belonged to me...something he couldn’t ruin.”
“That’s pretty harsh.”
“You don’t know him.” Her smile was bleak. “He’s an alcoholic...with not the slightest interest in recovery. People in town make jokes about him. The sheriff has a cell with Harold’s name on it. I didn’t want to be a part of that, but...”
She ground to a halt, biting her lip, her distress almost palpable.
“But what?” He smoothed a strand of hair away from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. Her skin was softer than a Texas sunrise, all pink and pretty and sweet.
“I can’t bear to see him go completely down the abyss. So I keep giving him money. Which is stupid, because his business pulls in twice what mine does.”
Her voice broke as a single tear rolled down her cheek. Mellie seemed oblivious. Case felt something twist inside his chest. He couldn’t tell if it was a good feeling or a bad one...maybe just damned scary.
Pulling her head to his shoulder, he stroked her hair, releasing the band that held it and using his fingers to winnow through the fragrant mass. “Sometimes doing the right thing is really hard.”
“How would you know?” The question was tart.
He rested his chin on top of her head. “My college roommate had a drug problem, but he hid it from me for almost a year. I was constantly bailing him out of jail and making excuses for him. Until the night I came home from a date with my current girlfriend and found Toby on the floor of our apartment. Dead. From an overdose.”
He recited the tale simply, even though the recounting jabbed at a spot in his heart that had never quite healed.
Mellie pulled back to look at him, her eyes wide and distraught. “Oh, Case. I’m so sorry.” She put her hands on his cheeks. “You must have been devastated.”
Her simple empathy reached down inside the hard shell he’d worn since his divorce and found purchase in a tiny crack. Emotions roiled in his chest, feelings he hated. It was much simpler when he saw Mellie Winslow as simply a potential bed partner. He didn’t want to know her innermost secrets. He didn’t want to care.
But he was lost...defeated. Almost before the battle had begun. “I want to kiss you,” he said raggedly, “but I can’t. I’m sick.”
Her smile was both
