Millionaires' Destinies: Isn't It Rich? / Priceless / Treasured. Sherryl Woods

of yours?”

      “Respect,” he said immediately.

      “You mean self-respect.”

      Richard shook his head. “No, just respect.”

      She regarded him quizzically. “Your father’s?” she asked, her voice incredulous. “Is that it, Richard? Are you still trying to earn your father’s respect?”

      As she said it, he heard how ridiculous that sounded. His father had been dead for twenty years. “That would be impossible,” he said, shaken by the sudden awareness of what he’d been doing for far too long. He’d been living his life to please a man who could no longer be satisfied—or dissatisfied—with his accomplishments. And overnight he’d been examining his entire life based on a movie premise…and on one offhand comment from a woman who barely knew him.

      “Yes,” Melanie told him. “It would be. Self-respect is far more important, don’t you think?”

      This was more self-analysis than Richard could cope with on an empty stomach. “Enough of this,” he said brusquely. “How’s your waffle?”

      Her gaze held his, challenged him, but then she finally let it drop to the forkful of waffle she was holding. “Perfect,” she said. “You could always open a restaurant, if you get tired of running a multinational conglomerate.”

      “We have restaurants,” he noted as he sat down with his own plate and poured maple syrup over the waffle.

      She chuckled. “I doubt you’ve seen the inside of the kitchen in any of them.”

      Richard shrugged. “They have fine chefs and great managers. They don’t need me in there. All I care about is the bottom line of that division.”

      “Adding up all those numbers is what gives you pleasure?” she prodded.

      “Of course. It’s what I do best. Numbers are logical.”

      “And that’s important to you, isn’t it? You need everything in your life to be logical.”

      He frowned at her. “You say that as if it’s a crime.”

      “Not a crime,” she said lightly. “Just not much fun.”

      How many times had he listened to exactly the same lecture from Destiny? It hadn’t bothered him half as much when his aunt had tried to get through to him. “I have fun,” he insisted.

      “When?”

      “All the time.”

      “Are you talking about all those charity balls you attend?”

      He nodded. “Sure.”

      “Then why do you always look so miserable in the pictures they take for the papers?”

      “Miserable?” he repeated, astonished. “I’m always smiling.”

      Melanie shook her head. “Not with your eyes,” she told him. “That’s where the truth is, you know, in the eyes.”

      Richard’s gaze automatically sought out her eyes and saw compassion and warmth and even a hint of yearning. She was right. The truth was in the eyes. He wondered if she had any idea what message was shining in hers.

      All he knew for certain was that the message scared him to death, because it so closely mirrored what he was trying so damn hard to hide.

      “How did your weekend go?” Destiny inquired innocently on Monday morning when she put in one of her rare appearances in Richard’s office.

      He’d been expecting her today, though. He was ready for her, or at least he thought he was. “The house is still standing, if that’s what you’re asking. I came away without any broken bones.”

      “And Melanie?”

      “I didn’t strangle her.” He gave his aunt a hard look. “What are you up to, Destiny? I know what you told Melanie, but I’m not buying the innocent act. I want the truth.”

      “I’m trying to find you a good marketing person,” his aunt claimed. “Did you even look at her proposal?”

      He had. He’d studied it in the wee hours of Sunday morning when he’d been unable to sleep for thinking about the movie…and about Melanie’s presence in the guest room. She was an annoying little chatterbox, but she’d been growing on him. The entire weekend he’d been able to think of only one way to shut her up. Since she’d ruled that out, she’d wisely scampered off to bed alone and he’d stayed up nursing the last of the wine while he watched that ridiculous comedy with its feel-good happy ending. When was real life ever like that?

      Suddenly aware that Destiny was regarding him with an amused expression, he tried to focus on their conversation. “She has some interesting ideas,” he conceded.

      “Then hire her.”

      “She’s ditzy,” he said, falling back on his original impression because recent impressions were far too complicated. “She’d drive me crazy in a week. Maybe less.” He knew that for a fact, because she’d driven him crazy in just two days. She’d upended his need for logic and made him crave all sorts of things he’d never expected to need. She’d tapped into emotions he’d spent a lifetime avoiding.

      “What’s wrong with that?” Destiny asked, her eyes filled with knowing laughter.

      Richard cringed. It was almost as if Destiny had been an eyewitness to the way Melanie had rattled him and thoroughly approved of it. Maybe she was merely psychic. Whatever, if she got it into her head that her scheme was working, she’d never let up.

      Before he could list all the things wrong with any kind of relationship with Melanie—business or otherwise—she said, “You need someone around to drive you crazy. Everyone else in your life bows to your every whim.”

      “You don’t,” he pointed out.

      “Yes, but I’m your aunt. I might get on your nerves, but you cut me a lot of slack.”

      “I’ll cut you a lot less now that you’ve sent Melanie into my life,” he vowed.

      She laughed, clearly unintimidated. “If you don’t hire her, you’ll regret it.”

      In Richard’s opinion, if he didn’t sleep with her, he’d regret that more, but he wasn’t about to share that insight with his aunt. Especially since it was probably exactly what she’d had in mind in the first place when she arranged all of this.

      He really needed to get on the phone with Mack and Ben and warn his brothers that their aunt was dedicating herself to playing matchmaker these days. If she tired of her lack of success with him, they were definitely next in line. He owed them the heads-up. Then, again, it might be more fun to let her take them by surprise, the way she’d sneaked up on him.

      “Why don’t you meddle in Mack’s life?” he suggested hopefully. “Or Ben’s?”

      Destiny’s eyes sparkled with merriment. “What makes you think I haven’t?” she inquired blithely, then turned and sailed out of his office, leaving him speechless and not one bit closer to being off the hook.

      Melanie stared glumly at the Carlton Industries folder on her desk. It had been such a wonderful opportunity for her, but the odds of Richard ever changing his mind and hiring her were so astronomical, she might as well run the folder through the shredder.

      She was genuinely considering doing just that when Becky came in with two cups of latte and cranberry scones from the café down the street. She held them just out of Melanie’s reach.

      “If I give you these, will you tell me everything that went on between you and Richard Carlton this weekend?” she asked.

      “No,” Melanie said, snatching the coffee out of her friend’s hand. She could live without the scone if she had to. Caffeine was another story.

      “Testy,