Melanie and not you misconstruing what might just be chance.”
Melanie shook her head vehemently.
“I don’t think that’s what I’m doing, Hope. I’ve prayed so hard, and everything just seems to have fallen into place.”
“Not quite,” Hope murmured dryly. “I mean you two are only sharing the apartment to get the prize money, right?” She opened the door and got out, straightening her skirt carefully. “But I daresay all of that could all be corrected. In time.”
Melanie wasn’t sure whether to agree or not but was forestalled from answering by the simple expedient of Hope’s departure. She strode toward the nursing home in long, determined steps. Sighing, Melanie gathered her briefcase and purse from the back seat, her mind replaying the scene in the apartment.
So he wanted to be alone, did he? Well, tough. He had asked her to stay and, nasty as he was, she wasn’t moving until that check came. As she stared at her white fingers clenching the handle of her briefcase, Melanie just wished the money would come today. She released each finger, one by one.
Breathing deeply, she tried to view their situation from a distance. What was it about Mitch that made her so nervous? she asked herself.
Well, for one thing, his hands were constantly touching her, under her elbow, on her hand, brushing her waist. He made the blood flow hot and sweet through her body and then left her wanting more.
“But I detest him,” she muttered, and knew that she lied. No man had ever made her feel so vulnerable. It scared her. In her world of old people, she was in control. Even her dates allowed her to set the tone of the evening. But when Mitch touched her, control moved out the window.
Control, she decided. That’s what she really needed. An abundance of control. Unfortunately, it had never been her forte. She grimaced as the morning scene flashed through her mind.
No, she considered ruefully, there hadn’t been much control there. She resolved to think happy thoughts. Mitch Stewart was not going to get under her skin again.
She hoped.
“I could use a little help with this decision, Lord,” she murmured.
Once she entered the nursing home, Melanie tried to focus entirely on her clients. The shock came when she opened her office door after morning rounds with the doctors. Immediately her eyes began to water. She blew her nose several times before her senses cleared enough to spy the frail little woman seated on her sofa, cuddling a pure white angora kitten.
“Look, Melanie, a wonderful present arrived for you.” Mrs. Rivers’s soft voice was perfectly clear, and Melanie marveled at the sudden change in the woman.
The dim gray eyes were bright with excitement as Nettie stroked the cat’s fur, cooing gently. Melanie wiped her eyes again, trying to stifle a sneeze.
“Just waid dere, Bissus Ribers. A’ll be ride…achoo—bagk.” Melanie hurried out the door to find Bridget. “Youb god to ged id oud ob here, Bwidget. I can’d bweade.”
Melanie left her secretary to deal with the problem and strode quickly down the hall to the patio. Once in the fresh air, she sank into a chair, breathing deeply. Eventually, her nose began to drain and her eyes stopped watering.
It was there that Mitch found her ten minutes later.
“Taking a break?” he asked, eyeing her red eyes with curiosity. “What’s the matter, Melanie? I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
His voice was concerned, and Melanie was touched. After his angry diatribe earlier, she didn’t expect him to be so solicitous. It made her feel even more guilty. He bent on his haunches, peering into her face, his long fingers brushing over her hand.
“You didn’t,” she muttered, trying to find that elusive control she had ordered herself to exert. “I’m fine, actually. It’s just that somebody foolishly brought a cat into my office. I’m allergic to cats,” she enlightened him, curious about the red stain that was flooding his face.
“It’s too bad, too, because Mrs. Rivers is talking a mile a minute. That’s something she’s never done the whole time I’ve been here. Now I’ll have to have the dratted thing taken away.” She grimaced. “That’ll set her back but good!”
Melanie was less than thrilled with having to handle such a touchy situation. The extra time and patience it would take to convince Mrs. Rivers of the unsuitability of the cat in a nursing home would probably not erase the loss she would feel when the animal went.
“Honestly! If people would only ask before they do something silly like this.”
Mitch turned away to stare at the nearby flower bed. He seemed utterly absorbed in it, and Melanie wondered if he had heard a thing she had said. She was surprised when his low voice rumbled quietly.
“Maybe she could keep it in her room. You wouldn’t have to go in there, and she would still have her companion.”
Melanie stared at him.
“A cat in a nursing home?” she scoffed. “We’re trying to keep a sterile atmosphere so our residents don’t catch every bug that’s going around. Do you know the diseases a cat carries?”
It was clearly not an option, Melanie decided, but Mitch pressed on, trying to convince her that he had a feasible solution to the problem.
“Maybe it’s too sterile. Maybe those people would enjoy having someone else to be concerned about and care for.” His dark eyes dared her to deny it.
It was a convincing argument, and Melanie knew it. The trade journals were full of articles about experiments involving pets in nursing homes that had been tried with excellent results. In fact, Sunset Home already had a parrot, exotic fish and a gerbil. But a cat?
“If it makes such a difference in her life, maybe it would help some of the other residents too,” he coaxed, anxiously watching her face.
“I suppose it might work,” Melanie conceded, considering options. “The litter box will have to stay in her room, though.” She sneezed once more, shaking her head.
“There must still be some of those fibers on my clothes.” She wiped her red nose and then leaned over to pluck one from Mitch’s dark jacket. “Look, I’ve even spread them to you,” she muttered in disgust.
Melanie sneezed one last time. “I only hope it doesn’t cross my path again,” she added grimly. Her wide green eyes perused Mitch’s formally suited figure with a frown.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” she demanded, suddenly suspicious. Mitch held out a long white envelope.
“This came just after you left. By messenger. It’s from Papa John,” he told her, smiling sympathetically as she blew her nose in the fresh handkerchief he handed her.
“Well, what do they want now?” Melanie asked, tired of all the delays.
Her fingers tore open the envelope and she pulled out the single sheet of paper. Her face lit up with pleasure, eyes sparkling and pink lips grinning.
“Finally. They’re going to award
