A Creed in Stone Creek Part 18

Melissa gave her a look.

"That sounds nice," Adelaide said, sweeping grandly into the inner sanctum. "I'd like mine with a little cream and two sugars, please."

"None for me, thanks," Melissa said, putting a little point on the words. And then she shut the door with a firm push.

Adelaide, dressed in her customary cotton print blouse and elastic-waisted jeans, sat down without waiting for an invitation.

"Someone really should persuade Bea Brady to go straight out and shop for a life, life," she said. "My niece wore a toilet paper wedding gown wedding gown when she got married, and she looked fantastic. The pictures were all over the internet for months afterwards." when she got married, and she looked fantastic. The pictures were all over the internet for months afterwards."

Melissa sat down in her desk chair and tried to look serious. "I've gone over the bylaws for the Parade Committee," she began, with dignity, "and there is is a ban on using bathroom tissue to decorate floats." a ban on using bathroom tissue to decorate floats."

Adelaide waved that off. "What about creativity? What about being resourceful, and the wise use of our funds-which, in case you don't know, are shrinking with every pa.s.sing year?"

Melissa drew a deep, deep breath and let it out slowly. "Adelaide," she said, "creativity is certainly a good thing. Ditto resourcefulness and good fiscal management. But this is an issue that should be debated within the committee itself-not here, during working hours."

"You've always been such a-lawyer," Adelaide remarked, without rancor.

She looked around, smiling. "I don't see any crooks standing around, waiting to be hauled before a judge."

Melissa allowed herself a small and very diplomatic sigh. She'd been raised to respect her elders and, besides, Adelaide had been her and Ashley's Girl Scout leader when they were kids. She'd mothered them both, after a fashion, after Delia left. "I think that's beside the point, don't you?" she said mildly. "I grant you, this isn't Maricopa County, where the courts see a lot of action, but I'm still sworn to uphold the duties of this office, Adelaide, and I'm determined to do that."

Adelaide gave a responding sigh as Andrea ducked in with fresh coffee for the visitor and handed it over.

"If you wouldn't mind," the young woman said, "I'd like to leave early today. Since things are so quiet and all."

Melissa pressed her back teeth together, but kept smiling. Andrea's timing was priceless. "Go," she said.

Andrea blushed slightly. "It's just that there was a cancellation at the dentist's office today. If I go in for my cleaning now, I won't have to do it Sat.u.r.day morning."

Melissa glared.

Andrea ducked out.

Adelaide, in no hurry to get back to her receptionist's job, apparently, took a loudly appreciative sip from her coffee cup. "Did anyone mention how grateful we are, Melissa-the members of the Parade Committee, I mean-that you were willing to step in and take over for poor Ona Frame?"

"Now you're just trying to b.u.t.ter me up," Melissa said, smiling again. Irritated though she was, she liked Adelaide Hillingsley, and that was that.

Adelaide cast an eloquent glance toward the place where Andrea had stood just a moment before. "It seems to be the most effective way to deal with you," she replied, looking pleased with herself. "This job has made all the difference in the world to that girl. Heaven only knows what might have happened to her if she hadn't had the good fortune to wind up in Stone Creek."

"Right about now," Melissa confided brightly, "I wouldn't mind throttling her."

Adelaide took another drink of coffee, raised her eyebrows slightly. After swallowing, she ventured thoughtfully, "I hear she's dating that Cahill boy. Seems to me folks ought to be more concerned about that that than whether or not any of the parade floats are festooned with toilet paper." than whether or not any of the parade floats are festooned with toilet paper."

Melissa leaned forward in her chair. "The tissue issue," she said, "will have to be settled by the committee. I want no part of it."

"But you're the chairperson," Adelaide said.

Thanks to Tom Parker, Melissa thought. Melissa thought.

"I'm also the county prosecutor," she said.

"Then we'd better call a special meeting and settle the matter," Adelaide decided, in her take-charge way. "How does tonight sound? We might be able to get the community room at Creekside Academy, but I'm pretty sure the quilting club's already reserved it and, besides, your place is central."

Here it was, Melissa reflected. An emergency meeting of the Parade Committee. Just the excuse-however thin-she needed to get out of being alone with Steven Creed in the close and luxurious confines of Brad's former tour bus.

Except that she didn't want want to get out of it, fool that she was. to get out of it, fool that she was.

"I'm afraid I have other plans," she said. "But feel free to call a meeting anyway. Naturally, I'll go along with whatever the rest of you decide, as long as there's a consensus."

"Does this have something to do with that Creed fellow?" Adelaide asked bluntly. There was a twinkle in her eyes. "First supper, then lunch. My, my. It would seem you're over Dan Guthrie at last, and none too soon, either."

"I've been 'over' Dan Guthrie for a long time," Melissa said evenly.

And it was true. She still missed his kids, though. Missed the life she'd expected expected to have. to have.

How crazy was that?

Adelaide gave a girlish giggle, set her coffee cup down on Melissa's desk with a thump, and rose from her chair. "And it's none of my business," she chimed sunnily. "I could get you the instructions for my niece's toilet-paper wedding dress, if you want."

"Thanks," Melissa said. "But I won't be needing one of those real soon." She stood up, too, and walked Adelaide all the way to the corridor.

As soon as Adelaide had trundled off down the hall and outside, into the parking lot, Melissa turned and strode toward Tom's office.

He was sitting at his desk, with his feet up, studying the contents of a manila file folder.

"I resign!" Melissa announced summarily.

"From what?" Tom asked, dropping his feet to the floor and standing.

"From the d.a.m.n Parade Committee!"

Elvis, sprawled on his side over by the water cooler, gave a concerned little whine.

Tom chuckled. "I never figured you for a quitter," he said, folding his arms.

Melissa knew he was playing her, but her cheeks went hot with indignation anyway. "Well, maybe you'd better just 'figure' again, again, bucko," she snapped. bucko," she snapped.

"'Bucko'?" Tom repeated, grinning now.

"I must have been crazy to let you talk me into this," Melissa ranted on, pacing now. Hugging herself to keep from flinging her arms out wide in frustrated emphasis. "Why can't Bea Brady run the committee? Or Adelaide Hillingsley? They both give a d.a.m.n, give a d.a.m.n, after all, which is more than anybody can say for me!" after all, which is more than anybody can say for me!"

"Whoa," Tom said. "Calm down, counselor. If Adelaide headed up the project, Bea would raise h.e.l.l, and vice versa. And for the first time in fifty-odd years, there wouldn't be a parade to kick off Rodeo Days."

"Then you you do it!" Melissa steamed. With one hand, she made a slashing motion in front of her throat. "I am do it!" Melissa steamed. With one hand, she made a slashing motion in front of her throat. "I am not not going to spend the next few weeks arbitrating disputes over toilet paper!" going to spend the next few weeks arbitrating disputes over toilet paper!"

To his credit, Tom was trying hard not to laugh. He made a clucking sound with his tongue and shook his head.

"Melissa, Melissa," he said. "Stone Creek needs needs you." you."

CHAPTER TEN.

"'STONE C CREEK NEEDS YOU,'" Melissa muttered to herself, still riled from the conversation with Tom Parker that afternoon, concerning the Parade Committee. It was five-thirty, and she'd already showered, replaced her unaccustomed skirt and sweater with an even Melissa muttered to herself, still riled from the conversation with Tom Parker that afternoon, concerning the Parade Committee. It was five-thirty, and she'd already showered, replaced her unaccustomed skirt and sweater with an even more more unaccustomed black-and-white polka-dot sundress, and spritzed on cologne. "What a load of manipulative c.r.a.p. And I fell for it!" unaccustomed black-and-white polka-dot sundress, and spritzed on cologne. "What a load of manipulative c.r.a.p. And I fell for it!"

In the end, much as she'd love to resign as chairperson, Tom had been right. She wasn't a quitter and that was that.

Melissa studied her image in the mirror on the inside of her closet door and went right on talking to herself. "You're not fooling anybody, Melissa O'Ballivan," she told the reflected woman glowering back at her. "The real reason you're all bent out of shape is that you're about to do something you d.a.m.n well know know you shouldn't!" you shouldn't!"

That something, of course, was spending an evening alone, in a private and relatively small s.p.a.ce-with Steven Creed.

The man was a sin sundae, and she was so tempted to dig in.

If she had any sense at all, she chided herself silently, she'd stay away from him until she stopped feeling quite so-well-vulnerable.

All right, it was true that she needed to get out of the house-and out of her own head. And it wasn't as if she didn't have options-Ashley, her favorite confidante, was still out of town, but Olivia would have listened without judging, and Meg, too. Her sister and sister-in-law were smart, savvy women, and if they gave any advice at all, it would be good good advice. advice.

On the other hand, they were both in committed, loving relationships with men they knew all about, not relative strangers like Steven Creed was to her. By now, they must surely have forgotten what it was like to be in her situation.

Bottom line, she wanted full-frontal contact with the delectable Mr. Creed, and that was that.

And so what if she did? Was that so wrong?

No, she reasoned, arguing the case in the courtroom of her mind, it wasn't wasn't wrong. Stupid, maybe, and probably shortsighted, but not wrong. wrong. Stupid, maybe, and probably shortsighted, but not wrong.

Having gotten exactly nowhere with this inner debate, Melissa slipped on a lightweight cardigan, not because she was cold, but because she had some bruises on her arms from biting the dust that morning, and she didn't want them on display. She found her purse, locked up the house and climbed into her car.

Melissa drove straight to Steven's demolition site of a place and parked behind the house, between two huge, overgrown lilac bushes. Stone Creek Ranch-and thus, Brad and Meg-were just down the road, and she didn't want either one of them to catch a glimpse of the car. A roadster sighting would lead to too many questions, ones she wasn't inclined to answer just yet.

While she was still thinking these thoughts, Steven emerged from the bus, cowboy-perfect in dark jeans and a spiffy white shirt, his hair a little too long and his boots showing just the right amount of wear.

He grinned in greeting.

The dog, Zeke, trotted over to her for a pat on the head.

"I thought you might back out at the last minute," Steven said, standing a few yards away, giving her s.p.a.ce, his arms folded.

Melissa, who had been stewing over a variety of injustices ever since she'd left work, launched right in. "Just tell me this," she said, planting her sandaled feet and pressing her knuckles into her hips. "Why is it perfectly all right for a man to want s.e.x and make no bones about it, say so right out, but a single woman woman has to come up with all kinds of reasons and excuses?" Not the most appropriate way to greet the man, she realized in retrospect, but the words had simply burst out of her. has to come up with all kinds of reasons and excuses?" Not the most appropriate way to greet the man, she realized in retrospect, but the words had simply burst out of her.

Steven tilted his head to one side, and his grin was wicked, but he still kept his distance.

The scent of lilacs surrounded Melissa in a cloud, making her feel slightly drunk.

"I wouldn't say there were no bones about it," Steven drawled.

Embarra.s.sment bloomed rose-pink in Melissa's cheeks. What was the matter matter with her? When had this-this with her? When had this-this alternate personality, alternate personality, perfumed and wearing a sundress-with a ruffled hem, no less-taken over her fine legal brain and caused her to forsake her tailored wardrobe? perfumed and wearing a sundress-with a ruffled hem, no less-taken over her fine legal brain and caused her to forsake her tailored wardrobe?

In that moment, she couldn't think of a single sensible thing to say.

Painfully aware that she'd made a fool of herself-again-she actually considered jumping back into her car and zooming out of there. The problem was that just as quitting wasn't part of her const.i.tutional makeup, neither was running away.

So she just stood there, feeling ridiculous.

Where were all her convictions about s.e.x and the modern woman now? now?

Steven's grin softened, and he approached her slowly, the way he might have approached a frightened animal or a baby bird that had fallen from its nest.

When he was standing directly in front of her, he took her elbows into a gentle grip and looked down into her upturned and very flushed face.

"Hey," he said huskily. "You're calling the shots, Melissa. You can say 'now' or you can say 'never.' The whens and the ifs are entirely up to you. Meanwhile, why don't we just spend some time together and see how things go?"

Such a wave of relief pa.s.sed over Melissa then that she was very glad Steven was holding on to her. If he hadn't been, she thought her knees might have given way.

"Thanks," she said, belatedly, breathing the word more than saying it.

He gave a low chuckle. Inclined his head toward the old dowager of a farmhouse; the paint was peeling away, and the flowerbeds were choked with weeds, but the blowsy old roses, splotches of crimson drooping under their own weight, gave it a singular appeal.

"Want a tour of the house?" he asked.

It was such an ordinary question. Such an innocent one. Melissa, who had grown up in an old house and loved them for that reason and a few others, nodded.

Steven released her elbows, but immediately took her by the hand, and they walked toward the structure. The last dazzle before twilight turned the thick-gla.s.sed windows to pale purple.

They stopped just short of the back door, and Melissa looked up, shielding her eyes with her free hand.

"Don't you wish it could talk?" she asked wistfully.

Steven smiled. "I don't imagine all the folks who've lived here over the last several generations would consider that an entirely good thing," he said.

This man, Melissa thought. Melissa thought.

One minute, he had her heart racing and her stomach doing flip-flops.

The next, he was soothing her, just by being who and what he was.

"I suppose not," she agreed. He stepped up onto the small, uncovered porch, and Melissa followed, trusting his lead. Suddenly, it was easy to talk to him. "This house has been here almost as long as ours, you know. The one old Sam O'Ballivan built, I mean."

"Sam O'Ballivan. The Arizona Ranger turned cattle baron."

Melissa nodded, mildly surprised.

"Brad told me a little about him," Steven said. "That's quite a story."

"The man from Stone Creek," Melissa replied, with another nod. "That was our Sam."