CardsNeverLie Read online

  “How old are you?”

  “That’s a very rude question.”

  “Humor me.” Rob still didn’t smile.

  Melanie shrugged. As long as she was still on the right side of thirty, she was willing to admit to her age. “Twenty-eight, last Wednesday.”

  “Happy birthday. I’m less than a week late.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Thanks. Why did you want to know?”

  “I was curious to know if you were legal when you did the movie. If you weren’t I’m sure we could persuade Huntley to leave you alone. It’s too bad, really.”

  “Will you get it out of your head that I’m Honey Luscious?” Melanie groaned.

  “Not by you saying it is so. I’m a real Doubting Thomas. How can you expect me to believe you? Especially when you are so luscious?” He half-smiled and held out his hand. Melanie took another step back. One more step and she would be up the first step on the staircase leading to the next level of the hotel.

  “I hope you aren’t turning back into the X-rated Mother Goose again.”

  “Luscious, luscious Melanie, I told you I’m only X-rated when encouraged,” Rob said with an air of patience. His pupils were still dilated.

  “I wish I wasn’t encouraging you,” Melanie said, now one step up. It was too dark for Rob to see her clearly.

  “Are you?” Rob asked huskily. “Encouraging me, I mean.”

  “I don’t suppose so. At least not right now. But you do have your appealing moments, Whipmaster.” Melanie ran up the stairs and pulled open the door at the next landing. She didn’t hear footsteps behind her, but it didn’t matter. Rob Black knew how to find her. The question was, did she want him to?

  She remembered how he had made a grab for her and she had thought it playful at the time. But sexual harassment wasn’t funny and he had a history there. Or had Brisa overreacted in the sexually charged atmosphere of LeatherWorks and Rob had just been teasing her too? Maybe he wasn’t even one of the offenders. But who was she kidding—Brisa had told her everyone at his company did it.

  * * * * *

  Melanie dropped down into the thickly padded chair in her hotel room. More of a throne really, it was upholstered in royal purple and the lampshade of the reading lamp was designed to look like a turret. The entire wall across from the bed and the easy chair was covered in mirrors, with red velvet swags above. They contrasted horrendously with the chair and its matching purple bedspread and curtains.

  She tried to call Tommy Joe but he still wasn’t answering. Odd, but then Tommy Joe was a little odd. Maybe he had discovered some Dungeons and Dragons convention going on in town. She had certainly found a convention that interested her! Remembering the convention put her in mind of her Love Lotions idea, since she couldn’t allow herself to think of the tempting Rob Black.

  Drawing on the cold-blooded professionalism from those years when she had had nothing better to cultivate, she decided to do a mind mapping exercise on sexy concepts. Okay, it was an excuse to think of sexy stuff but at least she’d get some work done. Melanie thought of words and drew circles around them on a piece of hotel stationary, then drew arrows to other words with circles around them. Black. Okay, it was Rob’s name and the color of the ink in the Swords and Sorcery Hotel pen, but night was black and sexy and romantic. Night. Champagne to drink in moonlight. Hands, to open the bottle. Hands. She remembered her palms on Rob’s tight pecs and hard nipples. Cashmere, like his shirt. Cashmere. Dark eyes that matched the midnight shade of his eyes. Eyes. She felt moisture pooling between her thighs and she closed her eyes.

  This was supposed to be work and she was enjoying it a little too much. What could she do with this? Black, night, champagne, hands, cashmere, eyes. They were compelling images, at least to her.

  She pulled out another piece of stationery. What about small black champagne-shaped bottles with an eye as the logo? It sounded sexy to her. Rob had the most enticing eyes, deep set with the irises nearly as dark as his pupils. And his eyebrows were darker than his streaked blond hair. She doodled a black bottle with Rob’s eyes on it. Midnight Love Lotion. She liked it. And what would the scent be? Him. Cranberries, cinnamon and musk.

  She wondered what Rob would think if he knew he had inspired her design. Melanie crossed her legs tightly and leaned back on her throne.

  * * * * *

  Melanie awoke too late and lazy to call her boss with her idea, but she sent him the drawing she had done the night before with a brief explanation on her room’s fax machine. She tried to call Brisa, not knowing how to swing the conversation around to Rob Black, but only the answering machine picked up.

  “Brisa, are you there?” she asked the machine, hoping her cousin was screening calls. But she didn’t pick up.

  Melanie gave up and went down to Tommy Joe’s room, realizing she hadn’t given him a thought until now. What had he been up to lately?

  Their morning began with a continental breakfast, pastry and fruit and then a keynote speech entitled “Life in the Slow Lane”, which held little appeal to Melanie. She was more interested in Al’s response to her idea.

  If he liked it, she could go home to start work on the new idea for real. Tommy Joe could stay and network. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. And of course, Rob was here. A warm flush came over her, almost like the hot flashes her mother had been complaining about recently. Her hormones were jumping for sure but not in the same way.

  Wasn’t it great that she’d met a man at one of these things who actually lived in Seattle? Faced with Gerald’s infidelities, she had considered flings with a couple of men she had met at conferences like these, even allowed one to kiss her briefly on the lips as they had strolled the French Quarter in New Orleans.

  However, she had made vows, even if her ex-husband had had no interest in keeping the ones he made to his innocent eighteen-year-old bride. Melanie knew she had a jealous streak, but she had never quite given in to its urges, though it hadn’t taken long to stop caring for Gerald. He’d done so little after their marriage that would make her care. However, she really, really hoped Rob didn’t have a girlfriend at home. She wondered if Brisa knew.

  The conference lunch was the usual unappetizing and fattening chicken and pasta so she ducked out and ran up to her room to check her email. She had left Tommy Joe chatting away with a fellow yoga enthusiast. Apparently Tommy Joe was a man of many exotic hobbies.

  Melanie grabbed a diet Coke from her mini-fridge and a protein bar from her bag on the luggage rack. There was a fax on her machine and she grabbed it. The message was terse—“Call right away. Al Plowman”.

  Melanie frowned and popped the top of her cola can. Maybe it was an excited “call right away”. But the letters were narrow and tightly placed together. It didn’t look good. She picked up the phone and dialed.

  “Al Plowman.” Her boss’s voice sounded terse and rushed.

  “It’s Melanie. I just got your fax.”

  “How’s the conference going?”

  Melanie relaxed. If he was making small talk, things couldn’t be that bad. “It just started. The usual baloney. The fun is in the trade show.”

  “I got your fax this morning.” Al definitely didn’t sound thrilled.

  “Did you like it?” Melanie did her best to keep hope alive. She still thought it was a great idea, though she firmly believed the path to immediate success was fixing their main professional product line. “I thought of it on the plane ride down because there is a sort of pornographic convention here at the same hotel.”

  “You’re sure you didn’t overhear the concept being discussed along the way?”

  “Huh?” Melanie temporized.

  “Melanie, it’s one thing to get to market first with an idea, but to steal the actual name of another company’s product isn’t good. Or smart.” Al’s voice took on the lecturing tone he reserved for his newest direct reports. Melanie hadn’t heard that tone for at least a month.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking ab
out.” Melanie had the same sense of dejá vu as she had during the previous night’s conversation with Huntley. “I did see another massage product line at the other conference, but the bottles were amber and Egyptian style and the scent was entirely different. I don’t know what type of oil they used—I didn’t get a chance to do more than sniff.”

  “Wicked Oil announced their new line of Love Lotions in a press release today. They are planning to launch nation-wide.”

  Melanie felt the bottom drop out of her stomach.

  “I admit the fax doesn’t give many details,” her boss said. “Other than they will be competing in our market, of course.” He sounded snotty.

  But Melanie found a ray of hope. “It’s an easy enough name to think of. I’ll come up with something else.” She thought for a second of her mind mapping the night before. “Midnight Oil. As in burning the midnight oil, but with pleasure, not work. How about that?”

  “Great,” Al said sarcastically. “You’re sure that their mock-up and tagline isn’t going to look like yours too?”

  “Of course not!” Melanie said. “If you think I’m a thief why don’t you just fire me now?” Her therapist had told her that being direct would free her. She felt better already.

  Al lowered his voice. “I’m concerned. We have a lot riding on you, Melanie. Don’t cheat. You’re supposed to be the idea girl.”

  Melanie bit back a retort at the word “girl”. She tried to keep her voice light. “I assure you my ideas and my designs are my own.”

  “Good enough. Keep them coming. I’d have been pleased if I hadn’t seen the press release. Maybe it’s a fluke after all. For all we know, Wicked Oil’s people are at the conference too.”

  “Tommy Joe said they weren’t. Why don’t I come back now and get to work on a prototype? I really think this idea will fly.” And you won’t be able to accuse me of stealing anyone else’s ideas safe at home in Seattle.

  “Don’t be a chicken, Melanie. Stick it out. Come up with some other ideas. The executive committee will still have to approve anything you come up with.”

  “Sure.” At least if she stayed here, she might have another encounter with Rob. Yeah. On the other hand, she might have another encounter with Huntley.

  Melanie wondered how Wicked Oil had come up with the Love Lotions concept. She remembered joking about it with Tommy Joe on the plane. But he had been feeling so airsick he hadn’t been paying attention. And anyway, he seemed to like her. Giving her idea to his brother wouldn’t do anything for him. It would only hurt his own employment, right?

  Chapter Six

  Melanie and Tommy Joe followed the purple arrows down the corridor to their rooms after a long afternoon of sessions.

  “Can you believe that?” Melanie said to Tommy Joe. “I can’t use my idea.” They stopped in front of her door.

  He pulled his eyebrows together until they formed a crease between his eyes. “Did you come up with a new one?”

  Melanie shrugged. She didn’t want to tell him anything more, just in case Wicked Oil’s press release hadn’t been serendipity. Tommy Joe patted her on the shoulder. She sighed, hating the distrust between them. She couldn’t get Rob Black out of her mind, but really, Tommy Joe was much more likely to be her soul mate.

  “You know what?”

  She shook her head, distracted by her thoughts. He seemed so close to that maddening description of her devil-man.

  “You look like a person who needs a hug.” To Melanie’s surprise, he put his arms around her and held her snugly. He hugged well, with just the right amount of solidity in his grip. The warmth emanating from his body felt wonderful in the air-conditioned hallway and surprised her coming from someone so thin. I can stay here just a second, she thought. It wouldn’t do to be rude now. He wore great cologne. Melanie wondered if he had selected it himself or if some woman had chosen it for him. Fresh and grassy, it held none of the musky odor of Rob’s cologne. Tommy Joe’s scent didn’t invade her senses the way Rob’s did. She didn’t feel any wild urges now. She gave Tommy Joe a squeeze back and released him.

  “Thanks, Tommy Joe. You’re a friend.” To the extent I can trust you, which is about as far from my shoe to the door. She inserted her key card into the door lock.

  “Why don’t we have dinner tonight?” Tommy Joe asked. “We can talk about something other than work.”

  Melanie hesitated. Dinner with tall, dark and handsome from Product Development, or spend some time trying to save her job during an emergency. Saving her job won out. It always did. It had to.

  “I need to get some work done, but thanks.”

  “Maybe I could help?” Tommy Joe smiled boyishly, a lock of dark hair falling over his forehead. “You could bounce ideas off me or maybe I could come up with something.”

  That was what worried Melanie. She didn’t want anyone “coming up with something”. That was her job and she would keep it come what may. It was far more important to her than any potential boyfriend. Only when she had security could she afford to play.

  “No thanks.” She smiled sweetly. “I’ll stop by your room in the morning to pick you up for breakfast.”

  Tommy Joe hesitated. “You’re sure you don’t want a helper?”

  Melanie nodded. “Thanks anyway.”

  She closed the door behind her with relief, feeling she had escaped, and crossed the room to her purple throne, kicking off her black pumps on the way. Dumping her jacket on the bed, she unzipped her skirt and shimmied out of her clinging nylons.

  She collapsed onto the throne and spent an hour doodling. But her mind was a blank except for a memory of the dream she was having before that morning’s alarm went off. She labeled a sheet of stationery “commercial” and started writing.

  A woman stands before a man at the edge of a cliff. She is in rags and bound to a stake. Her blonde hair stirs in the breeze. The man is muscular, tan, glistening. He has a leather mask covering his face and wears only a loincloth. He is holding a whip. He raises it to strike and the woman turns her head away and squeezes her eyes shut.

  The scene changes with a pulse of light and the audience sees the man wasn’t hurting the woman, but cutting away her bonds. He takes her hand and leads her to a couch in the middle of a meadow then pulls a champagne bottle from a saddlebag on his horse nearby. The woman shakes her head. You can see the man grin through his leather mask. He reaches into another saddlebag and pulls out a smaller black champagne bottle. She nods enthusiastically and reclines on the couch. The man kneels at her head and unstops the cork, then pours a little liquid into his hands and begins massaging her neck. She moans in ecstasy and they fade to black.

  Melanie strained to see the man as she did in her dream. Rats. She still couldn’t figure out what color his hair was! And besides, no one was going to give her money for a commercial, but maybe she could distill her dream into a print ad campaign.

  Frustrated, she sighed and craned her neck to see the cheap clock radio on the bedside table. Nearly seven thirty p.m. and she was starving. She had largely forgotten about Huntley during the day but wondered if it was safe to wander the hotel. If not, there was always room service.

  No, she wouldn’t let him win. Other than wearing more sensible shoes so she could escape quickly if necessary, she was going to go downstairs and mix with the world and eat. Maybe she’d even drop a few quarters in the slots. Who knew? It could be her lucky day. Despite her job worries, she needed to take a wild break. Her therapist had told her she needed to take breaks from stress. She did her best to take the advice but wasn’t sure her therapist had really understood how all-consuming stress was when you didn’t have any security in your life.

  She put on a light blue tank dress and laced gold sandals up her calves. They had a one-inch chunky heel that wouldn’t slow her down if she saw Huntley or Harvey Long in the crowd. She hoped they’d still be on their side of the convention floor so she wouldn’t run into them.

  Back down the corridor, she caught the elev
ator to the mezzanine level where many of the restaurants were. She thought about going to the King’s Buffet again, but remembering her mishap the previous night and seeing that Grub and Gauntlet was less crowded than before, she went in.

  Fitting in with the restaurant theme, the greeter wore a breastplate with huge gauntlets over his hands. She wondered how he picked up the grease pen to mark off tables on his chart.

  “Table for one?”

  Melanie nodded and the greeter motioned over a waitress to take her to a free table. The waitress wore the obligatory low-cut white blouse of this kind of restaurant and, typical of Las Vegas, a skirt nearly as brief.

  As they walked toward the back of the restaurant, past rows of tables inlaid with heraldic designs in bright blue, Melanie heard a woman’s voice calling her name.

  “Yoo hoo, over here!”

  Melanie craned her neck to the left but didn’t see anyone familiar. Then she saw a slim arm with a gold watchband waving.

  “Anita, is that you?” Anita Press was Al’s ex-girlfriend, the stripper with a heart of gold. Of course she would bump into Anita at an adult conference. Melanie was grateful to see another ally.

  Anita stood up then rushed over to Melanie and threw her arms around her. Melanie grinned. The ebullient Anita. Melanie remembered her getting drunk at the company Christmas party the year before and taking over the karaoke stage with a rendition of a classic Seventies’ hit that really rocked. She was a talented vocalist and turned a dull party into a great time. But Al had been humiliated and Melanie had heard the relationship hadn’t survived much past New Year’s Eve. It was his loss.

  “You look divine, girlfriend,” Anita cooed, patting her curly red hair. “No wonder those silly kids think Honey Luscious is back in the house. It is you they’re chasing, isn’t it?”

  Melanie nodded and touched her on the shoulder. “I’m so glad someone knows who I am. I could have used you around last night. Maybe you can knock some sense into those losers.”