“You were easy and available. I’ll bet he told you that you were beautiful, didn’t he? And you took your dress right off for him.” She shook her head as she opened the door and stalked through it. “You let yourself be used, Melinda. And I thought I’d brought my daughter up better than that.”
The words were pure cruelty, aimed with perfect precision, and they hit their mark. Mel crumpled to the floor as the door closed, her pain so acute that she couldn’t even cry.
Her body trembled uncontrollably, and she wrapped her arms around herself in a vain attempt to calm down. But the taunts reverberated in her head.
I’ll bet he told you that you were beautiful, didn’t he? And you took your dress right off for him.
Her mother was a horrible woman sometimes. But she was also right. He had told her that. Let me look, Mel. I think you’re gorgeous.
She writhed now in shame. And worse, despite the shame, his words still sent a sexual frisson through her. So did the memory of his fascination with her body…and his mouth.
Mel somehow found the strength to crawl into the bed and pull the covers over herself, bathrobe, hair towel and all. She wasn’t going to move from this spot until checkout time tomorrow.
Because one thing was for sure: she would not attend the wedding breakfast. She’d never, ever see Pete again, not voluntarily, anyway.
* * *
F ULLY DRESSED IN HIS tuxedo again within five minutes, Pete headed downstairs in record time. He slipped back into Ballroom C, where the reception was winding down now—Mark and Kendra had evidently left.
He made sure everyone who wanted a last drink got one before the bar closed, and saw to it that the tables all got bused. He poured some seriously inebriated guests into a couple of taxis, and even escorted Mark’s slightly tipsy Aunt Mildred to her room on the third floor.
He shoveled some last late-night partiers into the Starlight Bar and Lounge, Playa Bella’s own nightclub, and kept an eye out for Melinda, but didn’t see her. The person he kept seeing instead was Melinda’s and Mark’s mother, Jocelyn. And for some reason she was glowering at him, though her husband Richard was just as affable as always.
Pete spent a few minutes with the bride’s parents to make sure they were happy with everything and had no questions about the final bill. Then he walked over to say good-night to the Edgeworths.
He’d eaten countless oatmeal-raisin cookies in Jocelyn’s kitchen as a kid, and she’d been very warm to him at the beginning of the evening, so he couldn’t account for the arctic chill in her voice now, unless…
“Mark and Kendra looked so happy,” he said, placing a hand on Jocelyn’s shoulder. “Didn’t they?”
“Yes.” She sidestepped quickly, shrugging him off, while Richard didn’t seem to notice.
Had Melinda told her mother what she and Pete had done? No…why would she have? It wasn’t the kind of thing a girl discussed with her mom over coffee. Or was it?
“You and your staff here at the hotel did a fine job,” said Richard genially. “Very nice party. Thank you.”
Pete shrugged modestly. “Kendra and her mother planned it down to the last detail. So it was easy for us. But I’m glad you enjoyed yourselves.”
“As did you,” Jocelyn said acidly.
Pete froze. Then he lifted an eyebrow. “Yes, it was great to see everyone after all these years.”
Melinda had definitely said something to her mother, damn it. But why? And how much had she told her? He could feel heat rising up his neck and into his face, for the second time that evening.
“How’s the old neighborhood?” he asked, looking for a safe topic of conversation.
“Fine,” Jocelyn said, avoiding his gaze and hunting for something in her purse.
“Oh, nothing much has changed, except for a few more burglar bars and alarms,” Richard mused. “Crime’s even crept into Coral Gables, you know. Some of the incidents are pretty brazen. Our neighbors the
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