The greatest compliment Melanie had ever received was when someone had compared her to her aunt. Her mother had put a slightly different spin on it, saying that she could coax words out of a mime, but it was one and the same, Melanie mused. She and Aunt Elaine loved people, all manner of people.

A hint of envy entered the gray eyes. “She must have been a remarkable woman.”

She’d get no argument from Melanie. “She was, in every sense of the word.” Melanie still missed her fiercely. She knew a part of her always would.

“Melanie, you want to come here a second?” Joyce Freeman’s raised voice broke apart the easy tempo of the conversation. When Melanie turned in her direction, Joyce gestured with a touch of urgency that was underscored by the frown on her small mouth. “I think someone here wants to talk to you.”

There was a nervous note in Joyce’s voice. So what else was new? Joyce wasn’t happy unless she was worrying about something. Melanie gave the woman at her side an encouraging smile.

“You’ll excuse me?” she murmured, beginning to back away. “Feel free to browse as long as you like. I’ll be back to answer any questions in a minute. Maybe two,” she amended as she glanced again in Joyce’s direction and saw the depth of her best friend’s frown. Even from across the shop, it looked pronounced.

It undoubtedly had something to so with the tall man who was standing beside her. Melanie lengthened her stride, hurrying over while still giving the impression of taking her time. She could feel the man’s scrutiny as she drew closer. Curiosity began to sprout.

“Something the matter?” She directed the question to Joyce, who looked positively ready to leap out of her skin.

There was confusion in Joyce’s dark brown eyes. She didn’t really care for change in general and absolutely abhorred the unknown. The unknown was standing at her side in the form of a very tall, very somber-looking man with charcoal gray eyes and the darkest shock of black hair Melanie had ever seen.

Hair, she thought, that looked like velvet. The kind of velvet found on the inside of a really expensive jewelry box used to hold valuable, well-loved rings. For a second, looking at him, Melanie couldn’t help wondering if his hair felt as soft as it appeared.

Without thinking, she almost reached out to touch it before she caught herself. Would that have made the man’s frown retreat? Or merely deepen?

Melanie’s eyes shifted back to her friend’s face. There was no relief evident at her approach. If anything, her expression of concern had intensified. Now what? Melanie tried to shrug off the tiny kernel of concern that was beginning to root within her. It was all probably nothing. Just Joy’s way.

They complemented each other that way, Melanie thought. Joy, in direct contradiction to her nickname, worried about inventories and bills, about things that might happen and things that didn’t happen, while Melanie, with what Joy dubbed her terminal optimism, went along assuming the best would somehow manage to push its way through any dark obstacles that stood in its path.

Melanie absolutely refused to spend her time worrying. She firmly believed that if something was going to go wrong, it would happen without her obsessing about it, and if it didn’t go wrong, then worrying that it might would have been a waste of energy and time. She made Joy crazy, especially since most of the time she was right.

Joyce licked her lips. She slanted a nervous look at the man. “I’m afraid he thinks something is the matter.”

Melanie smiled at the stranger with the clipboard in his hand. A wish list perhaps? It wouldn’t be the first time someone came into the store clutching one. Maybe Joyce was upset because they didn’t have any of the items on it. She wouldn’t put it past Joy.

“Can I help you with anything?” Melanie asked engagingly.

There was a dimple appearing and disappearing in her cheek, as if unable to decide whether to remain, as she smiled at him. Lance Reed watched for a moment in fascination despite himself. A snappy answer to her question, which several of the guys at the firehouse would have easily uttered, played across his mind, never making it to his lips. And with good reason. It was largely unrepeatable.

He took quick measure of the petite blonde who’d blown in his way like a sweet, cool breeze on a warm spring day. Unlike the woman he’d been talking to, she didn’t appear to have a care in the world. She also didn’t seem to be aware of the errors she was guilty of committing. Or, if she was, she didn’t care. He guessed that the latter seemed more likely.

That innocent look on her face was probably purely calculated for effect, he decided. Beneath the wide smile and wider eyes lay a devious mind. Lance Reed was well acquainted with the type. Hell, he’d been engaged to the type.

The blonde opened her mouth. The dimple set up housekeeping, calling forth a twin in her other cheek. She was going to flirt with him, he realized. Well, she could flirt until she was completely out of breath, wiles and charm. It wasn’t going to do her any good. She wasn’t going to talk her way out of a citation. Which would be for her own good. Or at least the public’s.

Certainly liked to stretch things out, didn’t he? Melanie thought. She raised a questioning eyebrow in Joyce’s direction, but Joy looked positively spooked. What was going on here?