you’ve become to him.”
“To
him
?” Chris asked pointedly. “We are talking about Einstein, aren’t we?”
Melanie blushed hotly. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Sheffield. A woman would have to be mentally deficient to get involved with you. The only person you care about is yourself.”
Chris drew his mouth into a tight, thin line. “Maybe you’d like to add murder and robbery to the list? God knows you’ve accused me of everything else.”
“Far be it from me to criticize the ways you choose to fill those long, sultry evenings.”
“That does it,” Chris said. He turned and stalked toward the door, not the easiest thing to do through a room full of computer peripherals.
Melanie watched him go, his strong shoulders stiff with anger. Logically, she knew she ought to be glad he was leaving. But she wasn’t. Not by a long shot. She couldn’t bear to see him go. Not like this. Oh why, why had she said all those terrible things to him? She hadn’t meant them. She had to tell him, to apologize before he walked out the door and possibly out of her life. “Chris—”
He whirled to face her, his metal-bright eyes cutting into her like a knife. “Look,” he said, without letting her finish, “I may need this partnership, but I don’t have to like it. I don’t have to like you.”
The shock of his words knocked the breath out of her. He couldn’t stand her. And she was crazy about him. Feelings spun inside her like a kaleidoscope. Dizzy, she leaned against the console for support, but straightened as he continued to speak to her.
“You know, you’re right. I am doing this strictly formy own advancement. But you’re doing it to finance your computer. You don’t care whether I get this promotion or not. Bottom line is you don’t care about me any more than I care about you.” He turned his mouth into a smile as cold and hard as steel. “I may not have your best interests at heart, Miss Rollins, but at least I’m honest about it.”
Melanie’s week went from bad to worse. Chris’s words forced her to take a long, hard look at herself, and what she saw wasn’t pretty. Her noble goal of procuring money for Einstein lost its luster when she looked at it from Chris’s point of view. He’d been working just as hard as she had and, if his motivation was a promotion, what right did she have to look down her nose at him. He had just as much right to his dreams as she did to hers. She would have told him so, except that he hadn’t given her the chance.
Chris hadn’t seen her or called her since their argument. Twice she came home and found a stack of computer parts on her porch, but that was the only way she could tell that he was still working on the project. She told herself it didn’t matter, that as long as he hadn’t given up on Einstein she didn’t care what he thought of her. She knew she was lying, but she told herself anyway.
Her one hope was that Chris’s absence would put an end to her ridiculous fascination with the man. The opposite happened. Images of Chris invaded her consciousness on a regular basis. A honking horn would make her turn, searching the traffic for Chris’s silver convertible. A scent of musk in the hallway filled her mind with the memory of his cologne. And the sudden shock from one of Einstein’s shorted electrical circuits had made her thinkof that day in the kitchen when Chris’s touch had ignited her skin. Sugarcoated dynamite.
Einstein was no help at all. He missed Chris as much as Melanie, but, unlike her, he had no problem saying it. He constantly asked her where his friend was, his questions stinging at her like incessant, angry bees. Disappointment, combined with lack of sleep, stripped her of her usual caring patience. She lost her temper more than once with him, throwing him into a byte-driven looping iteration. In human terms, a sulk.
She’d hoped that out of sight would equate to out of mind, but the sorry truth of the matter was that neither
“To
him
?” Chris asked pointedly. “We are talking about Einstein, aren’t we?”
Melanie blushed hotly. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Sheffield. A woman would have to be mentally deficient to get involved with you. The only person you care about is yourself.”
Chris drew his mouth into a tight, thin line. “Maybe you’d like to add murder and robbery to the list? God knows you’ve accused me of everything else.”
“Far be it from me to criticize the ways you choose to fill those long, sultry evenings.”
“That does it,” Chris said. He turned and stalked toward the door, not the easiest thing to do through a room full of computer peripherals.
Melanie watched him go, his strong shoulders stiff with anger. Logically, she knew she ought to be glad he was leaving. But she wasn’t. Not by a long shot. She couldn’t bear to see him go. Not like this. Oh why, why had she said all those terrible things to him? She hadn’t meant them. She had to tell him, to apologize before he walked out the door and possibly out of her life. “Chris—”
He whirled to face her, his metal-bright eyes cutting into her like a knife. “Look,” he said, without letting her finish, “I may need this partnership, but I don’t have to like it. I don’t have to like you.”
The shock of his words knocked the breath out of her. He couldn’t stand her. And she was crazy about him. Feelings spun inside her like a kaleidoscope. Dizzy, she leaned against the console for support, but straightened as he continued to speak to her.
“You know, you’re right. I am doing this strictly formy own advancement. But you’re doing it to finance your computer. You don’t care whether I get this promotion or not. Bottom line is you don’t care about me any more than I care about you.” He turned his mouth into a smile as cold and hard as steel. “I may not have your best interests at heart, Miss Rollins, but at least I’m honest about it.”
Melanie’s week went from bad to worse. Chris’s words forced her to take a long, hard look at herself, and what she saw wasn’t pretty. Her noble goal of procuring money for Einstein lost its luster when she looked at it from Chris’s point of view. He’d been working just as hard as she had and, if his motivation was a promotion, what right did she have to look down her nose at him. He had just as much right to his dreams as she did to hers. She would have told him so, except that he hadn’t given her the chance.
Chris hadn’t seen her or called her since their argument. Twice she came home and found a stack of computer parts on her porch, but that was the only way she could tell that he was still working on the project. She told herself it didn’t matter, that as long as he hadn’t given up on Einstein she didn’t care what he thought of her. She knew she was lying, but she told herself anyway.
Her one hope was that Chris’s absence would put an end to her ridiculous fascination with the man. The opposite happened. Images of Chris invaded her consciousness on a regular basis. A honking horn would make her turn, searching the traffic for Chris’s silver convertible. A scent of musk in the hallway filled her mind with the memory of his cologne. And the sudden shock from one of Einstein’s shorted electrical circuits had made her thinkof that day in the kitchen when Chris’s touch had ignited her skin. Sugarcoated dynamite.
Einstein was no help at all. He missed Chris as much as Melanie, but, unlike her, he had no problem saying it. He constantly asked her where his friend was, his questions stinging at her like incessant, angry bees. Disappointment, combined with lack of sleep, stripped her of her usual caring patience. She lost her temper more than once with him, throwing him into a byte-driven looping iteration. In human terms, a sulk.
She’d hoped that out of sight would equate to out of mind, but the sorry truth of the matter was that neither
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