now.”
He stepped closer, his now hard blue eyes bore into hers. “Well, I can. Why don’t you start at the beginning of this mess and give me the whole nine yards.”
“It’s a long story,” she said. “But honestly, I’m in no condition to discuss it. Not right now. I’ll get back to you.”
“You’re in no condition?” he barked. “You call it a mistake, but how do you think I feel? I’ve acquired a fiancée and a wedding date with a bride I don’t even know!”
“Please,” Melinda protested. She massaged her temples. “I have a terrible headache. You’ll have to wait. I’ll do something about it. I just don’t know what.”
Her heart skipped a beat when his gaze softened.
“Okay. I’m willing to compromise. Go ahead and have your coffee. But after you’re through I expect you to call the newspaper and retract the announcement. But I warn you, we’re not through talking.”
Melinda closed her eyes and swallowed hard. How could she carry on an intelligent conversation, let alone try to convince him she had all her marbles when she wasn’t all that sure herself? What she needed was to have time to figure out a way to undo the mess she was in.
So much for raging hormones.
Her head pounded. She tried to put one and one together. Before she’d left to rescue a client and her allergic fiancé, she must have pressed the enter button on her computer! Her fantasy wedding plans must have gone into action, including the newspaper announcement. She peered at Ben through a mist of pain. High school sweethearts, of all things! No wonder Ben looked ready to throttle her.
She was heartsick. How could she have gotten so careless as to chose Ojai’s most eligible bachelor for a fantasy husband—even by mistake?
Things got even worse when she envisioned the orders she must have placed and supplier’s cancellation penalties to follow. And, horror of horrors, the public apology it looked as if she would have to make before Ben was satisfied.
“As long as you insist, come on in the kitchen,” she said over her shoulder. “I’ll put on the coffee, but I don’t guarantee it won’t taste like mud.”
“Good! I could use something strong right now. You have no idea of the mess you’ve created or the attention I’m bound to get because of it.”
Sure, Melinda thought to herself. The number of disappointed women who had set their hopes on winning Ben for a husband were bound to be legion. Considering that he hadn’t been in a hurry to take any of them up on it, maybe he should have been grateful to her for getting him off the marriage market.
She was ready to tell him so when the sound of footsteps coming down the wooden stairs interrupted her. Her aunt Bertie tripped into the kitchen.
“Ah, there you are, Benjamin!” She cocked her head to one side and smiled at Ben and Melinda. “How sweet of you to come over early to see your fiancée.”
Fiancée? Ben hesitated. The word made his hackles rise, but considering who he was talking to, he bit back the words he was tempted to say. “Not really, Ms. Bertie. I came as soon as I discovered your niece and I had a lot to discuss.”
He felt himself blush like a teenager when she smiled and glanced at the newspaper crushed in his hand. “I must tell you how good I felt to see your pending wedding announcement in there! Frankly,” she said with an admiring glance at Ben, “I didn’t even know you and Melinda were seeing each other, let alone planning to wed. How romantic.”
Ben nodded politely, but his mind cringed at the timing of Bertie’s entrance. This was no time to finish reading Melinda the riot act. Nor was it a good time to insist she call the newspaper with a retraction. He’d have to wait until the excitement died down before he had a calm and serious heart-to-heart talk with her. Before he was through, she’d never pull a fool stunt like this again.
As for Bertie, she was a staunch supporter of the high school’s athletic teams and the basketball team just as he was. She’d baked her famous chocolate-chip cookies for the high school’s fund-raisers as far back as when he’d been a kid. He owed her respect.
Her niece—well, that was another story. He should have been angry with Melinda, but somehow he wasn’t any longer.
He glanced over at Melinda. In spite of her headache, with her blond hair caught back in a ponytail and dressed in a brief outfit that revealed as much as it concealed, she looked as fresh and pretty as a spring sunrise.
“I’m so happy for you both,” Bertie cried when he bit his lip. “Especially for you, Melinda. I know you tried to keep the wedding a secret, but the truth is that I’ve known about it since Friday.” She beamed proudly.
“How could you have known? I didn’t tell anyone!” Melinda’s heart took a dive at the innocent smile that came over her aunt’s face. The premonition she wasn’t going to like her aunt’s answer was as strong as the anvil beating in her head. “How did you find out?”
“Martha Ebbetts called me when she got the e-mail message.” She beamed at Ben. “I’m sure you know that Martha is the society editor of the Ojai Newsday. Anyway, Martha called here Saturday. When she heard Melinda wasn’t home she asked me for some filler for her article.”
“Filler?” Melinda gasped.
“Article, Ms. Bertie?”
“Yes, of course. Martha wanted to add some human interest to the announcement. I was thrilled to be able to oblige.”
“Aunt Bertie—you didn’t! Tell me you didn’t tell Martha anything!”
Ben glanced over at Melinda. The water in the coffeepot she held in her hand sloshed over the brim. Her face had turned white. Hell, she looked ready to faint again. He sprang into action, grabbed the glass coffeepot, put it on the sink and threw his arm around her shoulders. “Just what was it you told Martha Ebbetts, Ms. Bertie?”
Melinda’s aunt put a forefinger to her lips and appeared to think for a minute or two. By the time she was ready with an answer, he was a nervous wreck.
“Why, I just told Martha you’ve known knew each other since high school. I was right about that, wasn’t I?”
Ben swore under his breath. Bertie looked so innocent, it was hard for him to believe she could be serious. Considering she’d known him as a high school student, she must have known he and Melinda were practically strangers. “Maybe, but that’s a long way from being sweethearts, wouldn’t you say?”
Bertie smiled happily. “Martha wanted to spice up the story a wee bit. Calling you childhood sweethearts does tend to make the story more romantic, don’t you think?”
He heard Melinda groan softly. From long experience as a local businessman, he knew exactly what she was thinking. If anyone could pump up a story and turn it into a fairy tale, it was the legendary Martha Ebbetts, a contemporary of Bertie’s. But one thing was clear; whatever else Melinda had done, at least she hadn’t labeled them high school sweethearts.
“You have no idea just how the announcement is going to sound to some people, Ms. Bertie. Or what a few of them might think when they get around to reading it,” he added slowly.
