Free Meltdown by Ruth Owen

turning toward the office door. He was ready to face the efficient businesswoman, to endure her “strictly business” attitude and the chilling condemnation in her words. He was not prepared for this slight, fragile creature staring at him with wide, questioning eyes. She’d removed her glasses in a quick, uncertain gesture. Without them her hard-edge image had softened into appealing and completely devastating vulnerability. His carefully rehearsed speech died on his tongue.
    She stepped into the office and closed the door behind her. “What are you doing here?”
    For a moment Chris himself couldn’t remember. His mind focused on other things—her slim arms tapering to graceful hands, the soft fall of her hair around her shoulders, the strong set of her jaw absurdly at odds with the rest of her features. And her lips. Always those lips. Mentally he gave himself a shake. “I, er … wanted your opinion. On my presentation.”
    He waved his hand toward the literature displayed on the desk top. She barely gave it a glance, “Oh, Chris, why did you have to come here? Couldn’t you have called me up to your office?”
    His mouth hardened. Two seconds in the same room and she was already complaining. The package had changed, not the contents. “Well, excuse me for trying to be a gentleman,” he said, his temper rising. “I thought you’d prefer me coming down to your office than being summoned upstairs like some office vassal. And what difference does it make to you where we meet?”
    “It’s not me I’m thinking of. It’s them.” She nodded toward the glass wall of the office. “It makes a difference to them.”
    Chris saw what she meant. Beyond the wall dozens of bright, eager eyes focused on the interior of the office. He sat down on the corner of Mrs. Hardcastle’s desk and ran his fingers through his hair. “Now I know how a goldfish feels. What do you think they’re expecting us to do?”
    “God only knows,” she answered miserably, staring helplessly at the ceiling.
    “Commit murder?” he suggested. “Or perhaps robbery?”
    Her gaze returned to his, looking directly into his eyes with a candor that caught him off guard. “I didn’t mean that, Chris. I was just trying to get back at you for eavesdropping. I’m sorry I said it.”
    Honesty wasn’t something Chris dealt with on a regular basis. His sales successes depended on figuring out what the other person
wasn’t
telling him as often as what they did. His social relationships regularly mirrored his business experiences, with his dates going to great lengths to hide what they saw as the faults in their natures.
    Melanie had her faults, but she never tried to hide them. She faced the world with dead-arrow honesty, a trait she’d passed on to her embarrassingly forthright computer. Ashamed, Chris realized he’d been less than honest with her. “You were right. I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping. And I shouldn’t have just left like I did—”
    “Don’t be silly. You had every right.”
    “Genius,” he said, smiling, “you’re going to have to learn not to interrupt me. Especially when I’m apologizing. Now tell me what’s been going on. How’s Einstein?”
    Melanie’s cautious smile faded into concern. “I’mworried about him, Chris. He’s not acting at all like himself. He’s becoming more obstinate every day. He argues with me all the time. I don’t know what to do with him.”
    Chris remembered his own parents using the exact same phrases to describe him. “Sounds like he’s having growing pains. Just cut him some slack. He’ll come around.”
    “You’re probably right, but I wish you’d have a talk with him all the same.” She paused, staring intently at a threadbare patch in the carpet. “He’s missed you a lot.”
    “Well, I’ve missed … Einstein a lot,” Chris said. It was half the truth. Why did he find it so difficult to tell the woman he’d missed her too? “I promise to have a long talk