Millionaires' Destinies. Sherryl Woods

be able to resist you,” Jasmin added, as if that were a bonus.

      Before Becky could ask what the heck the other woman meant by that, Melanie said quickly, “I’ll take the dress.” Jasmin had been right. She didn’t care what it cost. Whatever it was, it was a small price to pay to walk into Destiny’s house tonight feeling confident as she and Richard launched this charade. And she could always have it cleaned and bring it right back here on consignment to recoup some of the cost, though something told her she would never give it up.

      Once she’d added an outrageously expensive jeweled purse, she signed the credit-card slip without giving it a second glance. Maybe if her accountant turned a blind eye, she could figure out some way to turn this into a business expense.

      When the transaction was completed, she took her purchases to her car. Becky trailed along behind, muttering a barrage of questions that Melanie determinedly ignored. Only when her packages were stowed away and they were seated in a nearby restaurant with coffee on the table and salads on the way did she finally look her friend in the eye.

      “You have to promise that you will never breathe one single word of what I am about to tell you,” she told Becky. “Not one word. Not to your own mother. Not even to a lawyer, a priest or anyone else sworn to uphold your confidentiality.”

      Becky solemnly crossed her heart. “My God, Melanie, what have you done? You didn’t kill Pete For-sythe, did you?”

      “No, though in retrospect, that might have made more sense than this.”

      “Then you saw Richard?”

      “Oh, yeah.”

      “And he was furious?”

      “About as furious as I anticipated when I told you I was going over there this morning to try to head off an explosion.”

      “Did you figure out who leaked the story?”

      “He’s convinced it was Destiny.”

      “His own aunt?” Becky said incredulously.

      Melanie nodded. “It gets worse. He’s also convinced she won’t be happy until he and I really are involved, so he’s decided we need to pretend that we are.”

      Becky blinked hard, then her expression slowly changed to comprehension. “That explains the dress.”

      “Yep. We’re having dinner with Destiny tonight.”

      “You actually went along with this?” Becky asked, sounding incredulous. “You’re going to lie to a woman who befriended you?”

      “A woman who befriended me with ulterior motives,” Melanie corrected. “It’s a fine point, but an important one.”

      “Oh, brother.”

      Melanie met Becky’s gaze. “Am I crazy?”

      “Probably.”

      “Is there any way this can not go horribly wrong?”

      “Not that I can see,” Becky said, sounding surprisingly cheerful.

      “Why are you suddenly finding this so amusing?” Melanie demanded.

      “Because you are both so obviously delusional.”

      “Why do you say that?”

      “Richard thinks he’s doing this to get even with his aunt, am I right?”

      “Yes.”

      “And you’re doing it out of some misguided sense of guilt, correct?”

      Melanie nodded.

      “Ha!”

      Melanie frowned at her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

      “You’re both doing it because you want it to be true. He wants to be involved with you. You want to be involved with him. Neither of you is willing to be honest about it.” Becky took a little bow. “You’re welcome.”

      Melanie gave her a sour look. “I didn’t thank you.”

      “You should have,” Becky told her. “It’s the most honest thing that’s been said at this table since we sat down.”

      Melanie opened her mouth to deny it, then snapped her mouth shut again. There had been enough lies and half-truths and deceptions floating around today.

      “This really is going to be a disaster, isn’t it?” she said eventually.

      Becky nodded without hesitation. “That would be my assessment, yes.” She gave Melanie a sympathetic look. “You could still fix it.”

      “How?”

      “Make it real.”

      “No. Neither of us wants that.”

      Becky rolled her eyes.

      “Okay, Richard doesn’t want that and I’m almost certain I don’t, either. We hardly know each other, but I do know he’s a man who’s not in touch with his feelings, he’s still a potential client and he’s stodgy. Those are all things that make him bad for me.”

      “You’re hopeless,” Becky said. “At least I’m in touch with my feelings.” She grinned. “Jason is groveling, by the way. It’s lovely.”

      “Good for Jason.” She gave Becky a defeated look. “How am I going to fix this?”

      “You’re obviously not, at least not the mature, intelligent way, since you won’t acknowledge the truth. That means you have to go with the flow.”

      “I’m lousy at going with the flow,” Melanie reminded her.

      Becky grinned. “I know. That’s what’s going to make this so much fun to watch.”

      Chapter Eight

      Richard rarely questioned his decisions once he’d made them. Having second thoughts was the mark of a man who didn’t know his own mind, and he prided himself on his clarity of thought. Or he had until today.

      Now that the dust had settled over that ridiculous rumor in the morning paper, he realized that talk would have died down in a day or two with no real harm done. That was how he should have handled it, simply let it go away of its own accord. Instead, he’d turned it into this big charade that was going to turn his life inside out for weeks, maybe even months to come.

      He’d gotten caught up in the heat of the moment. He’d wanted to pay Destiny back for her meddling. He’d wanted to go on spending time with Melanie without having her underfoot professionally. That was both unfair and insulting. He was surprised she’d gone along with it. She should have told him to take a hike. He couldn’t help wondering why she hadn’t. Maybe she was suffering from the same momentary lunacy that was affecting him.

      Now he’d gone and compounded his mistake by deciding to drag a perfectly nice woman into his aunt’s web of intrigue, when he should have been doing everything in his power to keep the two of them as far apart as humanly possible. His head pounded just thinking about what dinner was going to be like.

      Hoping for backup, he picked up the phone and called his brother Mack.

      “Well, well, if it isn’t the newly proclaimed Romeo of the family,” Mack taunted when he heard Richard’s voice.

      “Go to hell.”

      Mack laughed. Mack was used to having his name bandied all over town, linked with a different socialite each time. Richard was not.

      “As soon as you’re through enjoying this, I have a favor to ask,” Richard announced grimly.

      “Anything,” Mack said, instantly sober. “You know that. Should I go over to the paper and put the fear of God into Pete Forsythe? I’ve been dying to have a legitimate excuse for a long time now. Unfortunately, most of what he reports about me is true. The man’s a