Kiss The Cook

Chapter 15

He had to talk to her. Right away.

But the gods were conspiring against him.

Chris glanced at his watch for the hundredth time and frowned. His flight to Los Angeles was boarding and he needed to speak to Melanie before he left. He'd called the Pampered Palate half a dozen times, but he kept getting a busy signal. That was good for business but not good for him.

He'd already left two messages on her answering machine at home. His flight was announced over the loud speaker.

Damn.

He had to talk to her, had to explain before she heard it from someone else.

Glenn had promised not to call Melanie until tomorrow morning with the news, which was fine-but not if Chris couldn't talk to her first. Damn it, he should have told her last night, but she'd left him in such a hurry, he hadn't had a chance. Not to mention that he'd been so caught up in telling her that he loved her, he hadn't mentioned that her loan might be kaput because of him.

Now he knew the loan was kaput, and he had to tell her. Jesus, when the hell did banks start doing things ahead of schedule? The loan officer had called Glenn at eight A.M. to deliver the regretful news that Miss Gibson's loan was denied. Glenn had sprung the news on him as he was racing out of the office to drive to the airport. And to make matters worse, Glenn also announced Chris's trip to Los Angeles needed to be extended to meet with another client and now he had to remain on the West Coast until Friday.

His stomach clenched at the thought of telling her over the phone, but it was all he could manage. Impatiently dropping coins into the pay phone, he cursed himself for not bringing his cell phone. He almost cheered out loud when he didn't hear a busy signal.

"Pampered Palate, Gourmet to Go," came Nana's gravelly voice over the line.

Relief washed through him. "Nana, it's Chris. Is Melanie there?"

"Hiya, handsome," Nana said, and Chris had a mental picture of her patting her bright red hair. "Mel just left. She's helping out with the last of the deliveries. It's been a zoo here."

Chris swore silently. "I have to talk to her, Nana. Will you tell her I'll call her tonight?"

"She won't be home tonight," Nana stated. "We have tickets to the Braves game. We're heading over to Turner Field as soon as she gets back."

"Final boarding call, Flight 423 to Los Angeles."

Chris raked his free hand through his hair. "Nana, please write down this phone number." He pulled his itinerary out of his briefcase and rattled off the number for the Los Angeles Marriott. "Ask her to call me tonight."

"We'll be getting home late," Nana said.

"It doesn't matter what time it is. Please tell her to call me. Tonight."

"Okay, honey. I'll tell her."

Chris said thanks, hung up, and sprinted for the gate.

He settled into his seat and laid his head back and closed his eyes. His stomach churned and his head pounded.

He had to talk to her before Glenn did.

The phone rang.

Chris rolled over and groaned. What the hell time was it? Peeking out of one eye, he grabbed the receiver.

"Melanie?"

A mechanical voice greeted him. "Good morning. The time is seven A.M. This is your requested wakeup call."

Chris's eyes popped open and he sat up straight. One look at the beside clock confirmed that it was indeed seven in the morning.

She hadn't called him.

He jammed down the receiver. "Damn, damn, damn!"

What the hell time was it in Atlanta? He shook his head to clear it of sleep. Ten A.M. He had to call Melanie right away. He was just reaching for the phone when it rang. He grabbed it.

"Hello?"

"You bastard."

Chris squeezed his eyes shut. God damn it. He was too late.

"Melanie. Let me explain-"

"I'd like to see you try," came her furious voice. He heard her tears and anger and cringed, knowing that she blamed him.

"I tried to call you," he said, "to talk to you before I left."

"That was damn big of you."

"Why didn't you call me last night?"

"The game went into extra innings. By the time we got home, it was late. I didn't think it would matter if I waited until morning to call you."

Her bitter laugh sizzled through the phone wire. "I couldn't call you until now because I've been on the phone for the last hour. First with the bank, then with Glenn Waxman. But I guess you know all about that. After all, you're the reason my bank loan was turned down."

"Melanie, listen to me. This whole thing was an accident. I overheard this guy saying that one of his clients had just signed the lease on the empty store across the street from the Pampered Palate and they planned to open a new restaurant."

"So?" she asked in that same cold, furious voice.

Chris scrubbed his free hand down his face. "So I had to tell Glenn."

"Why?"

"Because I felt it was pertinent to the review. I hated to tell him, but I felt it would have been unethical for me not to."

"So you knew when you told him that he would add it to the independent review? You realized it might mean the kiss of death to my bank loan?"

Chris blew out a breath. "Yes. And yes."

"Did you absolutely have to tell him, or was it a gray area?"

He knew he was sunk. "Technically, it's a gray area, but-"

"I see," she broke in, her voice changing from cold to frigid. "And when exactly did you overhear this conversation?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "The morning we went canoeing."

She was silent for so long, he wondered if she'd just put down the phone and walked away. When she finally spoke and he heard the icy hurt in her voice, he almost wished she had.

"In other words, right after you found out that my loan was as good as gone, you took me to bed. Without ever mentioning it."

"Melanie-"

"But of course you didn't mention it. You knew how upset and concerned I'd be. Certainly not in the mood for sex, and that would have royally screwed up your plans. And how convenient that you didn't bother to say anything about it over the next two weeks. That's what hurts most of all. Damn it, I hate being lied to!"

"I never lied to you. I was going to tell you-"

"But you didn't."

"I had every intention of telling you once the bank made its decision. And yes, I knew you'd be concerned and I didn't want to worry you needlessly. I was hoping as much as you that the loan would be approved."

"That's big of you. Really. Did it ever occur to you that I might be interested in the fact that another eatery was opening across the street?"

"You wouldn't have been able to do anything about it for those two weeks, Melanie, except pace the floor."

"I'm not a child who requires coddling, and I resent you treating me that way."

"I wasn't coddling. I was just trying to spare you unnecessary anguish."

"Well, I don't need to be spared." A bitter laugh rang in his ear. "You said you loved me. I shudder to think how you'd treat someone you hated. I was so worried that you'd turn out to be another Todd, and look at what happened. You make Todd look like a prince."

Chris's anger kicked in. "Damn it, Melanie, stop comparing me to that guy. I'm nothing like him."

"You're right. You're much worse. All he did was break my heart and bruise my pride." Her voice broke. "You've done that and robbed me of my dreams, too. I hope you're happy. Good-bye, Chris."

Before he could say another word, the dial tone sounded in his ear. There was no mistaking the note of chilling finality in her voice when she said goodbye. Muttering an oath, he slammed the receiver back on the cradle.

She hoped he was happy?

No, he wasn't happy.

In fact, he was completely miserable. And pissed-off, too. He realized she was angry, but damn it, why couldn't she give him the benefit of the doubt? And how was he supposed to fix things when he was three thousand miles away from home for three more days? There was too much time and distance before he could talk to Melanie and make her understand.

He dropped his head into his hands and groaned. Damn it, he should have told her immediately. Told her that if this bank turned her down, she could reapply at another bank.

But he knew the futility of that. The information was now disclosed in the independent review, and every bank would require that document. It was unlikely that any lending institution would be any more willing to part with their money than the first bank was.

He flopped back onto the bed and groaned. Cripes, what a mess. The one woman he wanted thought he was sludge. Thought he was worse than that loser Todd.

Damn, that really pissed him off. Todd, the dirt-bag, had screwed up by being a dishonest, lying coward. I, on the other hand, screwed up by being honest and forthcoming. Doesn't that count for anything?

But the realization of what he'd actually done suddenly hit him like a punch in the gut.

He hadn't been honest with Melanie. He'd been honest with Glenn.

His good intentions aside, he'd royally screwed up. Now the jackpot question was: How the hell could he fix this mess?

In desperate need of caffeine, he called room service, ordered a full pot of coffee, and showered while he waited. He was almost dressed and on his third cup of java when inspiration struck with the force of a lightning bolt.

A slow smile spread across his face as he mentally reviewed the ingenious-if he did say so himself-plan that hit him like a cement bag in the head.

It will work! It had to.

It was his only chance.

He ordered up another pot of coffee, then called to postpone his morning meeting until after lunch. Then he booted up his laptop, plugged in his portable printer, and set to work.

Five hours, four dozen e-mails, and countless phone calls later, Chris blew out a breath and looked at the papers stacked in front of him. All that remained was to fax them to Glenn. After that, it was out of Chris's hands.

He'd done all he could.

He prayed to God it was enough.