home.
She came through the door, dripping wet and shivering cold. She stripped out of her jacket, took off her sneakers and walked toward the stairs when the sound of male voices drifted to her from the living room. One she recognized immediately, the second made her pulse race. She quickened her steps in the direction of the stairs and the safety of her bedroom. Just as she zipped by the partially opened door, Alan stepped out.
âThere you are. We were getting worried. I was just telling Claude that if you didnât show up in the next two minutes I was coming out to look for you.â
Melanie froze. Her nieces and nephew crowded the doorway. Claude stepped out behind her brother. She was mortified.
âI really have to get out of these wet clothes. Then I can talk.â She gave Claude a brief smile and it took every ounce of willpower not to run like a rabbit chased by a fox up to her room.
Once behind closed doors she fought back a scream of disbelief. What in the world was Claude doing here? She was going to have a serious talk with her brother. She headed for the bathroom, turned theshower on full blast and peeled out of her dripping wet clothes.
Thunder erupted like dynamite in the sky, rattling the windows. The lights flickered for a moment then settled.
As she stood under the steaming water she wondered what she could possibly say to her brother: Donât bring Claude here without telling me so that I can be presentable because I have a thing for him, I think?
She held her face up to the water. Of course that was out of the question and ridiculous. Claude was Alanâs longtime friend. Both of them were in town and it stood to reason that they would hang out together. In addition to which, this was where Alanâs family could always be found.
She sighed, gave her body another lathering then turned off the water. Wrapped in towels, she walked barefoot back into her bedroom. What she wanted to do was curl up under her comforter, sip on a glass of brandy and watch a Criminal Minds marathon. None of which she could do without seeming totally rude. Instead she blow dried her hair, lotioned her body and put on a casually fabulous outfit in a silver-toned cotton-knit jersey fabric. The lounging pants and top flowed softly against her skin. Slippers for her feet and a dash of her favorite perfume behind each earand she was ready. She took a last look in the mirror, then joined her family and guest downstairs.
When she entered the room, Claude was in an animated conversation with Alan about the New York Knicksâ latest game. Her nieces and nephew were gone. Heads turned in her direction. Claude stood.
Melanie crossed the room toward him. She extended her hand. âI see my brother has managed to get you all the way out here again and in the middle of a storm no less,â she said good-naturedly.
He took her hand and held it. âWhen a black SUV with tinted windows pulls up in front of your door and a voice from deep in the recesses of the interior says âget in,â you get in.â He chuckled.
âYou make it sound sinister,â Alan said while he fixed himself a drink at the bar.
âMy brother has always fancied himself a spy,â Melanie said in a moderately bad attempt at a British accent. âThatâs why he works at the State Department and no one really knows what he does.â
âVery funny.â Alan took a sip of his drink.
The lights flickered.
Melanie moaned. âNot a good sign.â
âDo you get power outages up here a lot?â Claude asked.
âIf we have really bad electrical storms we have been known to lose power for a few minutes or a day or two. Fortunately for us, and most of the town,we have a backup generator. So the problem isnât so much with the homes but getting in and out of town. No lights and the inevitable flooding.â
Claude hummed deep in his throat.
âMy brother is a lousy host, always has been.
She came through the door, dripping wet and shivering cold. She stripped out of her jacket, took off her sneakers and walked toward the stairs when the sound of male voices drifted to her from the living room. One she recognized immediately, the second made her pulse race. She quickened her steps in the direction of the stairs and the safety of her bedroom. Just as she zipped by the partially opened door, Alan stepped out.
âThere you are. We were getting worried. I was just telling Claude that if you didnât show up in the next two minutes I was coming out to look for you.â
Melanie froze. Her nieces and nephew crowded the doorway. Claude stepped out behind her brother. She was mortified.
âI really have to get out of these wet clothes. Then I can talk.â She gave Claude a brief smile and it took every ounce of willpower not to run like a rabbit chased by a fox up to her room.
Once behind closed doors she fought back a scream of disbelief. What in the world was Claude doing here? She was going to have a serious talk with her brother. She headed for the bathroom, turned theshower on full blast and peeled out of her dripping wet clothes.
Thunder erupted like dynamite in the sky, rattling the windows. The lights flickered for a moment then settled.
As she stood under the steaming water she wondered what she could possibly say to her brother: Donât bring Claude here without telling me so that I can be presentable because I have a thing for him, I think?
She held her face up to the water. Of course that was out of the question and ridiculous. Claude was Alanâs longtime friend. Both of them were in town and it stood to reason that they would hang out together. In addition to which, this was where Alanâs family could always be found.
She sighed, gave her body another lathering then turned off the water. Wrapped in towels, she walked barefoot back into her bedroom. What she wanted to do was curl up under her comforter, sip on a glass of brandy and watch a Criminal Minds marathon. None of which she could do without seeming totally rude. Instead she blow dried her hair, lotioned her body and put on a casually fabulous outfit in a silver-toned cotton-knit jersey fabric. The lounging pants and top flowed softly against her skin. Slippers for her feet and a dash of her favorite perfume behind each earand she was ready. She took a last look in the mirror, then joined her family and guest downstairs.
When she entered the room, Claude was in an animated conversation with Alan about the New York Knicksâ latest game. Her nieces and nephew were gone. Heads turned in her direction. Claude stood.
Melanie crossed the room toward him. She extended her hand. âI see my brother has managed to get you all the way out here again and in the middle of a storm no less,â she said good-naturedly.
He took her hand and held it. âWhen a black SUV with tinted windows pulls up in front of your door and a voice from deep in the recesses of the interior says âget in,â you get in.â He chuckled.
âYou make it sound sinister,â Alan said while he fixed himself a drink at the bar.
âMy brother has always fancied himself a spy,â Melanie said in a moderately bad attempt at a British accent. âThatâs why he works at the State Department and no one really knows what he does.â
âVery funny.â Alan took a sip of his drink.
The lights flickered.
Melanie moaned. âNot a good sign.â
âDo you get power outages up here a lot?â Claude asked.
âIf we have really bad electrical storms we have been known to lose power for a few minutes or a day or two. Fortunately for us, and most of the town,we have a backup generator. So the problem isnât so much with the homes but getting in and out of town. No lights and the inevitable flooding.â
Claude hummed deep in his throat.
âMy brother is a lousy host, always has been.
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