Isabel Sharpe Page 8

  She’d worked as a hairstylist for five years before her bad habits got her fired from too many salons and she could no longer get references to be rehired. Which turned out to be a blessing in disguise because that’s when she’d started drawing and painting, skills she hadn’t exercised since elementary school, where the art teacher had said she’d shown a lot of promise.

  “Don’t worry, Edgar.” Tricia patted his hand, feeling absurdly old, then went to silence the soon-to-be-shrilling tea-kettle. Enough jarred nerves tonight. “If you let me help you, I think we can work this out.”

  “We?”

  “Stoner isn’t for Melanie. Everyone knows that but her, and it won’t take her long, no matter what happens tonight.” She poured their tea, the hope in his eyes spurring on her determination even more strongly. “If you’ll trust me, and you’re not above a little trickery, I have an idea I think will work.”

  “I don’t want to hurt her.”

  “Of course not.” Tricia smiled soothingly, trying to remember where she’d unpacked her scissor set, imagining the floor covered with poufy clumps of thick wiry curls. “But there’s a big difference between hurting her and giving her the surprise of her life.”

  6

  MELANIE RACED down the stairs to her car, threw her bag into the backseat and slammed the door. She was late for work. And cranky. Monday mornings were the pits. Especially Monday mornings after complete disaster weekends. Especially complete disaster weekends that were supposed to be perfect blissful weekends.

  She got into her car, Honey the Honda, half expecting it not to start—et tu, Honey?—then grimaced apologetically when the trusty engine sprang to life. Thank goodness something was acting the way she expected. Because nothing else in her life seemed to be. Not Edgar, not Stoner and certainly not her mother.

  She backed out of the driveway, nearly smacking into a neighbor’s car parked across the street. Terrific. Moving forward, she went over a curb, bump, thump, then managed to make it to the end of Betsy Ross place, turning left as usual in spite of the sign proclaiming Right Turns Only!

  Saturday night at The Wicked Hop had been weird and only got weirder. Stoner had been distracted and strange the entire time, never showing even a hint of the emotions they’d shared only a few nights earlier. Edgar had been morose and combative with his brother. Was he jealous? She couldn’t bear to hurt him, yet if seeing her and Stoner together was so horrible, why had he stayed?

  She whacked her steering wheel. Now look. She was wishing her best friend hadn’t been around.

  Yes, she was. Because then at least she would have been alone with Stoner and could have asked him what the hell was wrong.

  The evening had only gotten worse. After Stoner left for his gig and Edgar made excuses to get away from her, Melanie had stayed at the bar for a lonely hour, fending off creepy men, then gone to a couple of her other favorite places to kill time until the Imploding Bovines’ set ended, wishing she hadn’t pretended to Stoner she had somewhere else to be.

  Finally she’d killed enough time and had driven all the way to Waukesha to catch the end of the show. Good thing, because if she’d arrived any sooner, she’d be deaf.

  Granted, Stoner had been incredibly sexy, wrestling with his guitar, but she wasn’t a big fan of the noise he was generating on it.

  Even worse, while he’d been glad to see her, he was just as glad to see about a dozen other people who’d shown up to hear him, and the evening had ended not with a romantic, private, chemistry-filled tête-à-tête generating such lust it propelled them into bed together within twenty minutes, but instead with a free-for-all shot-banging, cigarette-smoking bash that had even outlasted her keenly honed partying skills. Around 3:00 a.m. she’d dragged herself home, defeated, exhausted, turned off by the heat and choking smoke and drinking to the point where she’d stuck with water. Once home, she’d discovered that Edgar had called about six times, trying to find out where she was, and she hadn’t heard her phone at all.

  Sunday she’d called him back when she got up. He’d wanted to take her out to a movie, which would have been ten times more fun than watching his brother whack off with his guitar. Which made her doubly cranky at Stoner and at herself. Stranger still, Edgar had sounded different. Not like himself. And nothing like he’d been Saturday night. Sort of mysterious and very cheerful and…she wasn’t sure what else.

  She turned onto Highway I94, the straight shot into downtown Milwaukee. Ahead of her, brake lights lit up like Christmas lights as the traffic slowed, then stopped. Too late for rush hour unless everyone else was as enthusiastic about getting to work on time today as she was.

  A few police cars and an ambulance sped by on the shoulder. Oh, no. Accident. Melanie dug her cell out of her purse and called Edgar.

  “Hey, Melanie. Let me guess. You’re late.” He still sounded different. Manic or something.

  “Accident on I94. I mean, I was late anyway, but at least I have an excuse now.”

  “Take your time. Boss Maniscotto has a meeting in Madison today.”

  “Oh, thank God.” She let her head thump back on the headrest. At least something had gone right. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “I can’t wait, Melanie.”

  She blinked. That was odd. He’d almost sounded…flirty.

  Oh, God. He hadn’t decided to compete with Stoner, had he? He couldn’t do anything that stupid. Not Edgar. Nothing would screw up their friendship faster, and he had to realize how precious that was.

  The idea rattled her so much she forgot to keep her foot on the brake and nearly rear-ended the car in front of her.

  Why was nothing simple? She’d gotten up this morning and her mother had started in on her. Before coffee. Subtly at first, about how chasing men hadn’t made her happy, then saying sometimes you didn’t recognize what was right in front of your nose, blah-blah-blah. If Melanie hadn’t been rushing around getting ready she would have asked her just to get to the point and skip the moralizing.

  What was it about her that made everyone else think they knew more about what she wanted and needed than she did? Did she give off some “help me, I’m clueless” signal?

  Traffic inched forward. By this point Melanie’s shoulders were hunched around her ears and her hands were white-knuckling the steering wheel. Breathe, Melanie. Maybe she should learn one of her mother’s weird meditation tips.

  Half an hour later she finally pulled into the office parking lot, grabbed her bag, locked her car and dashed inside, hoping no one in any position of authority would be there.

  Nope. The lobby was empty except for Anna, and she was a good person. “Hey there, sorry I’m late, horrible accident—”

  “Yeah, some fender bender. It’s on the traffic report. Save it. Todd isn’t around today.”

  “I heard.” Melanie grinned sheepishly and hurried to her cubicle, just past where Edgar sat at his computer.

  “Hi, Eddie, I—” She froze. Turned back. Stared.

  This was not Edgar. Except…it was.

  “You…um…got a haircut.”

  He’d gotten more than that. A nose job? Color-enhancing contacts? Chin implants? No, impossible, not in one weekend. Wait, she’d seen him Saturday night. Definitely not in one day! Especially a Sunday. Yet how could one haircut change a man’s face so much?

  My God. She was so flustered she just stood there, staring. His nose was no longer a comic embellishment, but a noble part of his face, like Adrien Brody or Owen Wilson. His forehead was high, clean and masculine without its covering of wiry frizz. He had excellent cheekbones. His eyes appeared larger; tousled hair and thin sideburns gave him a funky fashionable look.

  Fashionable? Edgar?

  And then she realized what else was different. His clothes fit. And didn’t clash. And they were stylish, in a classic way that both fit him and flattered his body.

  He looked really, really nice.

  She gulped. Sank into her chair and realized she’d tossed her bag o
nto it so that now her hastily assembled sandwich and chips were crushed under her butt.

  “I did get a haircut.” He smiled, and that dazzling smile was so familiar and yet so new in this changed face that she had to drop her eyes.

  Edgar? “Why…?”

  He shrugged, and even his shrug looked prouder and straighter and more masculine. “It was time for a change.”

  “Yes. Well.” She got up from her lunch and found herself nodding too many times. “It looks great. Really great. Terrific. Wow.”

  “Thanks.” He grinned again.

  “Hey, Melanie.” Jenny appeared and put her hands possessively on the soft-looking material of Edgar’s black, short-sleeved shirt shot through with thin stripes of blue that matched his eyes. “What do you think of our new office hottie?”

  Edgar made a face. “Be serious.”

  Jenny ruffled his short hair. “You watch. Women will go nuts. That adorable Marquette student, Kaitlin, already gave him his coffee free today. Did he tell you?”

  “No.” Melanie shook her head numbly. “Not yet.”

  “And I’ve kept count, five women have come by your cubicle today who could just as easily have e-mailed you.”

  “Stop, Jenny.” Edgar glanced at Melanie, who tried to look impressed though she felt as if she wanted to cry.

  “Excuse me.” She dug her squashed lunch out of her bag and held it up. “Gotta put this in the fridge.”

  Mercifully, only Brown-nose Bob Stevens was in the break room, hidden behind the Journal-Sentinel in the corner with his cup of coffee. Melanie put her lunch in the refrigerator and leaned against the counter, taking deep breaths.

  This was crazy. She was just rattled because the weekend had been so strange and she’d counted on everything being back to the same-old, same-old this morning. That was all. If Kaitlin wanted to give Edgar his coffee free, and women in the office started making plays for him, that was all great for Edgar, and she was happy for him.

  Someday she might even feel that way, too.

  For now she needed to be Zen, like her mother kept telling her to be, and take everything as it came, accept it, try to be true to what she knew was right.

  Never mind that her mother, in the midst of lecturing her about whatever it was, had taken a phone call from some guy she insisted was an old friend, and then floated around the house with a glassy look on her face that Melanie recognized, and which filled her with irrational fear left over from childhood, when it had been completely rational. When Mom got that look on her face it meant a man. And when Mom had a man, it meant Melanie and Alana would be on their own, emotionally and way too often literally.

  This was all more than Melanie could take in at once. She needed a safe haven. Edgar had been her safe haven for the past two years, and suddenly he didn’t seem that safe anymore.

  Where could she go? Where could she find comfort?

  Immediately the images from last Thursday, the feelings, came back. Just an hour in his arms would make all this fear recede; he’d slay all her dragons of uncertainty. She knew it. If she could just make it happen. Again.

  Newspaper rustled. Bob had lowered his paper to peek at her. She must look like a complete case, leaning against the counter as if she needed it to hold her up.

  She smiled and reached for a coffee mug. She hadn’t even been to Starbucks this morning, she’d been that flustered. But Edgar had been to Caffe Coffee. Kaitlin was likely still mooning over his new look, and would be unable to study tonight.

  God, what would Melanie do if Edgar got a girlfriend and checked out of their friendship? The thought horrified her, then the selfishness of her horror horrified her more. If he got a girlfriend she’d be very happy for him. Very.

  Coffee poured into one of the mugs she insisted they keep in the break room to avoid the nasty taste and environmental hazards of Styrofoam. She lifted the foul brew in a reassuringly cheery greeting to Bob and headed to her cubicle.

  She would act normal today even if it made her the only one in the universe who hadn’t changed.

  “You okay, Melanie?” Edgar, sweet and concerned as always, able to read her like a book. As always.

  “Sure, great, Monday mornings, you know.” She laughed too loudly and put her mug down, powered on her computer.

  “I have something for you.”

  “Mmm, yeah?” Something about his cautious voice put her on tense alert again.

  “Here.” He slid an envelope over to her side of the cubicle and continued working on his sports catalog. “What’s this?”

  “Read it and see.”

  “Good plan.” She giggled like a crazy person and tore open the seal. Inside was a typed note.

  Melanie. The other night we had together was incredible. It’s been so frustrating not to be able to acknowledge what we shared in public, especially that night when my brother was around. I could hardly stand not touching you. It gets worse every time I see you.

  When you go to bed tonight, leave the back door open and your bedroom lights out. Leave a trail of flower petals leading to your door. I’ll come to you at midnight.

  Melanie drew in a breath so long she was surprised she didn’t fill up with air and float clear away. As if she’d willed it into being, her safe haven with Stoner was offering itself. Somehow he knew she needed him.

  “Good news?” Edgar asked offhandedly, intent on his screen.

  “Yes.” She hesitated, not sure if telling him the truth would make him revert to his sullen self from Saturday night. But she couldn’t stop telling Edgar the truth. “Your brother wants to meet me tonight.”

  “Terrific. What bar?”

  “Um.” She felt herself blushing. “Actually…”

  “Not a bar? Do I need to vacate the premises tonight?” He gave her a sly smile and wink that were so unexpectedly sexy in his new look that she was momentarily distracted.

  “Oh, um. No. He’s coming over to my place.”

  “Really? Sounds like a hot date. A scorcher.”

  “Edgar, I’m…I mean, I thought it bothered you that your brother and I…”

  “At first. Yeah, it did. But now…” He shrugged, which drew her eyes to his very nicely broad shoulders. “I’m fine with it. He’s not in town much longer. You should take up whatever free time he has.”

  “Thank you, Edgar.” She clutched the note, thinking he was the most generous guy she knew, and wondering why his suddenly easy acceptance of her romance with Stoner bothered her on some level. Was he going to start seeing Kaitlin? Had he fixed himself up like this for her? Was that why he no longer cared whether Melanie hooked up with Stoner?

  That would be great. Of course it would be.

  God, what was happening to her?

  “I guess you’ll be late again tomorrow morning, huh?”

  She laughed nervously. “I hope so.”

  “Think you’ll still be able to walk?”

  “Edgar!” She pretended to be shocked, vainly suppressing a giggle. “You are one bad dude.”

  “That’s what they all tell me.” He arched an eyebrow, then went back to his project.

  “You’re sure you’re okay with this?”

  “Do I seem okay?”

  “Well…” She laughed uneasily. “Yes.”

  “Trust me, Mel, I’m way okay with this.”

  “Good.” She stopped herself from nodding too hastily. “That’s good.” Everything was okay. She’d see Stoner tonight. Edgar was fine with that; he could even tease her. This was all good, good news. Maybe everything would straighten itself out now. Maybe her mother would meet Stoner and love him and drop her objections.

  That would work. Melanie grinned at Edgar. “If it’s a really good night I might need a stretcher.”

  “Whoa.” He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Take video. We’ll show it in the break room.”

  Melanie burst out laughing. “That would shake things up.”

  She opened a file, then realized it was the wrong one, closed
it, opened her e-mail, closed that, opened another file. She couldn’t remember what she was supposed to be doing next on the Carson project. This day was not going to be productive at all. All she could think about was tonight, her and Stoner, in bed the way it was that first time. Those hands, those lips, the way he—

  “Uh, Melanie?”

  She turned in confusion. “Huh?”

  Edgar pointed. She’d opened a Word document and was leaning on the L key, filling the page. “Oh, duh, sorry.”

  “Distracted?”

  “Ya think?”

  “You’re crazy about him, huh?” Some tension crept into his voice. So maybe he wasn’t quite as thrilled as he acted. Which shouldn’t please her, even this little bit.

  “I don’t know.” She gave up even facing her computer. “Sometimes I’m sure, but then…sometimes he’s not what I expected.”

  “You deserve someone who is good to you, Melanie.” The tension was still there. “All the time. Not just once in a while.”

  She couldn’t speak. Her throat had swollen shut with emotion. Edgar…

  He turned away, fiddled with his mouse, but she got the feeling he wasn’t really seeing the screen. “Out of curiosity, when was he behaving like a guy you could fall for?”

  “The first night we were together. Thursday. It was…” She gestured helplessly. “Perfect.”

  Edgar made a strange noise, as if he’d tried to cough, sneeze, laugh and shout all at the same time. She looked at him anxiously, but he was smiling as if he’d heard the greatest news of his entire life. Melanie couldn’t believe the change in his attitude. She must have imagined his previous tension.

  “Eddie.” She laid her hand on his arm. “I’m really glad you’re happy for me. It means a lot.”

  “Listen, if the guy is an unbelievable miracle, an absolute god in the bedroom, who fulfills your every fantasy of what a man should be, then this is a very good thing.” He flashed his dynamite grin, even more disconcerting in that newly handsome face.