Kiss The Cook

Chapter 17

Chris unlocked his condo door Friday night and dropped his suitcase in the foyer. Closing the door, he leaned his back against it and closed his eyes.

God, he was tired.

And miserable.

But at least he was home, even if, thanks to his delayed flight, it was after midnight.

Pushing off from the door, he walked into the kitchen and checked his answering machine. No messages. Everybody's worried sick about me.

He'd hoped Melanie might have left him a message. Of course, he'd hoped she would call him in LA, but she hadn't. Then he'd hoped she might meet him at the Atlanta airport, but again, she hadn't.

He knew her loan had been approved. He'd spoken to Glenn Waxman, who'd filled him in on his conversation with Melanie.

So even though she'd gotten her loan, she still hadn't called. Obviously she was still angry with him.

Well, damn it, she was just going to have to get over it. He loved her too much to lose her. Now that there weren't three thousand miles between them, they would talk face to face and straighten things out. If she refused to listen to reason, he'd just Velcro her stubborn ass to the sofa until she changed her mind.

That settled, he headed toward his bedroom, loosening his tie on the way. He opened the bedroom door and froze.

Dozens of candles in every size, shape, and color, covered his furniture, bathing the room with soft, flickering light. A trail of fragrant flower petals led from the doorway toward the adjoining master bath.

As if in a trance, he followed the trail to the bathroom door, which stood slightly ajar. He gently pushed the door open.

He actually felt his jaw drop. Thank God it was attached to his face, or it would have fallen on the floor, taking his teeth with it.

More candles adorned the counter and surrounded the bathtub. Melanie reclined in the tub, surrounded by a mountain of fluffy bubbles. Her hair was piled on her head with several corkscrew tendrils surrounding her face. A bottle of champagne rested in an ice bucket on the floor with two crystal glasses next to it.

"It's about time you got home," she murmured in a low, sexy voice.

He had to swallow to moisten his bone-dry throat. "My, ah, flight was delayed."

"I know. I called the airline."

Because his collar suddenly felt too tight, he ran his finger around the neck to loosen it a bit. A fragrant puff of steam filled his nostrils, rendering him almost light-headed.

He cleared his throat. "Not that I'm complaining, but what are you doing here?"

A slow, wicked smile touched her lips. She lifted one long, soapy leg from the water. "I'm taking a bath."

Chris's gaze riveted on her shapely upraised leg. "I see that. Does this mean you're not angry with me anymore?"

"You could say that. I spoke to your brother today. He still had his key and he let me in." She ran a sudsy hand up her leg. "I hope you don't mind."

"Ah, no. I don't mind." Chris made a mental vow to give Mark everything he owned in thanks.

Chris watched, glued in place as she slowly stood up. White bubbles left silky trails in their wake as they meandered down her body. His blood pressure spiked and his heart practically stalled when she crooked her finger at him.

"Come here," she whispered.

He supposed his feet must have moved, because the next thing he knew, he was standing next to the tub.

"We're having a party," she said, reaching out her wet hands to unknot his loosened tie, "and you're waaaaay overdressed."

Chris stood perfectly still, his eyes fastened on hers, while she pulled his tie from around his collar and dropped it on the floor. Then she set to work unbuttoning his dress shirt.

Slipping the top button free, she said, "It occurred to me that we never went skinny-dipping." The second and third buttons opened. "While I realize this isn't a pool, it was the best I could do. We have all the skinny-dipping essentials-you, me, naked, water. And it does keep with our getting-wet tradition."

She raised her gaze, and Chris immediately drowned in her warm, chocolaty depths.

"If you have any objections," she said in a breathy voice that oozed sensuality, "I suggest you speak now or forever hold your peace."

He recalled saying those exact words to her before he'd made love to her the first time. "The tub works for me."

"Good." She slipped the last button free. Placing her bath-warmed hands on his abdomen, she ran her palms up his chest.

With a groan, Chris tried to pull her to him, but she held him off, shaking her head.

"Not yet. There are a few things I need to say first." She eased his suit jacket from his shoulders. It landed on the floor next to his tie with a soft thud.

Chris swallowed and fisted his hands to keep them off her. "I'm listening."

Cupping his face between her hands, she kissed him gently. "I'm sorry," she whispered against his mouth.

"No. I'm sorry. I should have told you right away. I tried-"

"I know," she said, forestalling his words by placing her fingers against his lips. "And I want you to know I was sorry before I found out that you'd booked twenty-seven parties for the Pampered Palate. I had a long talk with Nana and she made me realize how wrong I was… and how foolish."

He brushed back a stray tendril of her hair. "I never meant to hurt you, Melanie."

"Of course you didn't. I was angry and hurt when I should have been proud of you for not compromising your principles and integrity, and grateful for your concern regarding my feelings." She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his palm. "I said some really hurtful things to you and I'm sorry."

The hell with not holding her. Wrapping his arms around her, he dragged her up against him. Her breasts, warm and slippery from the bath, slid against his chest, forcing a groan from him.

He was about to kiss her when he noticed a tear glide down her cheek. "Hey, don't cry."

Another tear rolled down. "I'm not crying."

"Are, too."

"Am not."

He brushed away the tears. "Okay. Why are you not crying?

"I'm… overcome. What you did for me. All those parties. It's what changed the loan officer's mind."

"Glad to help." He ran his hands down her bare back and cupped her buttocks. "I'm not trying to rush you, sweetheart, but are you finished talking?"

"Just one more thing."

"What's that?"

"I love you."

Chris stilled. His heart seemed to stall, then jump back to life with an electric spark.

"I want you to know," she whispered, her big brown eyes swimming with more tears, "I'm not saying that because of what you did for me. I fell in love the instant I saw you. But I was so afraid."

"Of what?"

"Everything. That you'd turn out to be another Todd. Afraid I was falling too fast. But Nana straightened me out on that, too." She smiled. "She told me how long it takes to fall in love."

"Yeah? How long?"

"A moment. It only takes a moment."

"Well, I have to agree with her. That's about how long it took me to fall in love with you." He touched her cheek. "You're not afraid anymore?"

"Not unless you've changed your mind."

"About what?"

She dropped her chin. "Loving me," she said in a small voice.

He waited for her to look at him. When she raised her head, he cupped her face, her beautiful, tear-stained face in his hands.

"Not a chance," he said, his heart pounding with relief. "I love you. Completely. Totally."

"I love you, too. So much."

He huffed out a breath and smiled. "Thank God. Now, are you going to finish what you started here, or am I going to have to jump in the tub with my shoes and pants on?" He nuzzled her neck. "Something about you and water bodes poorly for my clothes."

She reached for his belt. "I'll finish."

He toed off his tassel loafers, peeled off his socks, and kicked them aside. Then he stood in an agony of anticipation while she slowly divested him of his trousers and boxers. The instant he was naked, he stepped into the steaming bath and lowered himself into the mountain of bubbles. Melanie joined him, settling her slippery body on top of his.

He held her tight against him, emotions swamping him from every direction. She loved him. He loved her. She was his. He was hers. And he wanted it to always be that way. Forever.

Tunneling his fingers through her hair, he gently pushed her head back until their eyes met. He saw all the love in the world shining at him from her big brown eyes.

"You're everything I never knew I always wanted," he said, unable to keep the husky note from his voice. He shook his head. "Does that make sense?"

A tender smile lit her face. "Perfect sense. You're everything I always wanted but was afraid to ask for."

"Seems like we're a good team."

"A perfect match," she agreed.

"So let's get married."

He watched her eyes widen to saucers. "Excuse me?"

"Marry me."

She stared at him, and he couldn't decide which word better described her expression-amazed or horrified.

He decided to hope for amazed.

When she continued to stare at him, bug-eyed and silent, he observed, "It seems I've left you speechless."

"You're serious," she finally said.

"Dead serious," he assured her. "Marriage isn't something I'd joke about."

"But you can't ask me to marry you in the bathtub!" she wailed.

Female logic. Go figure. "Why not?"

"Because someday our kids will ask us to tell them about how Daddy proposed to Mommy. How can we tell them we were skinny-dipping in the bathtub? Good grief. And how could we tell your mother and sisters? And Nana?"

"Oh, all right," he grumbled. He slid her off him, stood up, then scooped her up into his arms. Unmindful of the trail of water and soapsuds dripping behind them, he padded across the floor into his bedroom.

He was just about to lay her on the bed when she exclaimed, "Not here! You can't propose to me in bed."

"Why the hell not?"

"The same reason. What sort of example will we be setting for our children if we tell them we were in bed together when you popped the question?"

"Jeez. We don't even have these kids yet, and already they're giving me a pain in the ass." He looked around for somewhere she might deem appropriate and came up blank. "What do you suggest? I'm not about to lug you outside. We'll get arrested."

"We have to get dressed, Chris."

"Dressed?"

"Yes. We can't be naked."

He set her on her feet. "Who makes up these crazy rules? And the reason we can't be naked is…"

"Your mother, your sisters, Nana-they'll all ask me what I was wearing when you proposed. I cannot tell them I was buck naked."

Chris wasn't sure if he was annoyed or amused. "Can't you tell them you were so overcome with happiness, you forgot what you were wearing?"

"No can do. I'm not a good liar." She patted his cheek. "Besides, it's a girl thing."

Somehow he hadn't imagined his proposal going quite this way. Feeling very put-upon, he stomped to his closet and pulled out his robe.

Tossing it to her he said, "Here. You can say you were wearing Ralph Lauren."

She checked the designer tag and nodded. "Okay." She slipped the robe on and belted it.

He stalked to his dresser and grabbed a pair of Nike sweatpants. Grumbling under his breath, he jammed his legs into them. "Is this acceptable?"

"Perfect. Thank you. Now you may propose."

"Terrific. So what do you say?"

"About what?"

He took a deep breath and calmed himself. "About getting married. Yes or no?"

She raised her brows. "Wow. How excruciatingly romantic."

He dragged his palms down his face. "I'm sorry. But I've never proposed before. I wasn't aware all this damn protocol was involved." He took her hands and entwined their fingers. "I love you, Melanie. I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me?"

A brilliant smile lit her face. "Yes." She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. "Now I'll ask you. Will you marry me?"

"Oh, no," he said, shaking his head. "If you're gonna ask me, we have to do it the guy way."

"The guy way?"

"Yeah." He untied the robe and slid it from her shoulders. Then he shucked his sweatpants, scooped her up, and carried her back to the bed.

Once they were lying in each other's arms, he said, "Okay. I'm ready. Go ahead and ask. Now when all my buddies ask me about popping the question, I can say we were in bed and naked." He kissed her nose. "It's a guy thing."

She laughed. "Will you marry me?"

He scrunched up his face and pretended to consider the question. "Well, let's see. On the plus side, you're really cute, sweet, and a great cook. Of course you're kinda bossy sometimes-ouch!" He rubbed his shoulder where she'd lightly punched him. "Okay! I'll marry you, Mel Gibson." He grinned. "Now there's a sentence I never thought I'd say."

She shot him a belligerent glare. "Wanna change your mind?"

He rolled them over until she sat astride him. "No way."

"When should we do it?"

He ran his hands up her body and cupped her breasts. "Hmmm. How about right now?"

"You want to get married right now?"

"No. I want to make love to you right now. We can get married tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Next week?"

"That doesn't give us much time to plan a wedding."

"How much time do we need?" he asked. "All you need for a wedding is a bride, a groom, and a minister. We have two out of three. How long can it take to find a minister?"

He rolled them again until she was under him, then settled himself between her splayed thighs.

"Besides," he added, running his lips down the length of her neck, "the wedding has to take place soon. Starting next month you'll be too busy with your new catering enterprise to take time off to get married. We need a couple of weeks for a honeymoon."

She moved beneath him, running her hands down his back. "Hmmm. Yes. The honeymoon."

"I vote for two weeks from now." He looked down at her dreamy expression. "How does that sound?"

"Perfect."

"Are we done talking now?"

"Yes."

He lowered his mouth to hers. "Thank God."