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Creole Queen who’d hanged herself after being spurned by her married lover.”
    “Pretty good, but personally, I would have gone with the ghost of the spurned married lover, who died a horrible death after the Creole Queen put a voodoo hex on him. But then that’s just me. I will have to give you brownie points for creativity, however.”
    “I have more imagination than you give me credit for.” He tilted his head and sent her an assessing glance. “You’re not the only one who has vivid dreams.”
    The way he said it suggested his midnight fantasies had been as erotic as her own. Melanie’s stomach tightened at theidea. Was she in his dreams the way he’d been in hers? The thought was both thrilling and unsettling.
    “Too bad you don’t show as much creativity when it comes to designing your menus,” she said saucily, anxious to hide her discomfort.
    “Ah,” he said. “So it’s back to that.”
    “We’re always going to be back to that. Cooking is not only my career, it’s my passion. It’s the way I express myself.”
    “Contrary to your opinion, Chez Remy doesn’t exist solely so you can express yourself.”
    She shifted the melon from one hand to the other, then tucked it under her arm. “If we worked together instead of against each other, with your management expertise and my cooking skills, Chez Remy could be one of the top restaurants in the country.”
    “I agree.”
    She blinked. “You do?”
    “I agree that working together would make things go a lot smoother in the kitchen, and we wouldn’t have turkeys hanging from apron hooks.”
    “So you’ll let me try out some of my recipes?” Hope sprang up in her.
    “I’ll give it some thought.”
    “For crying out loud, would it kill you to just say yes?”
    He tapped his chin with a forefinger. “While you are an excellent chef, Melanie, I’m not convinced that letting you go wild with innovative preparations will bring in the business like you think it will. I believe the way to raise Chez Remy to the next level is to consistently serve top-notch, traditional meals.”
    “Traditional meals won’t bring in hip and trendy clientele—the kind of clientele you need to make a splash.”
    “It’s not about making a splash. It’s about creating consistently superior food and service that people can rely on. A reputation is gained and maintained over time.”
    “What’s wrong with making things happen now?”
    “You’re too impatient,” he said.
    “You’re too cautious,” she countered.
    “Impulsiveness leads to disaster.”
    “Too much deliberation leads to missed opportunity.”
    “This city is rebuilding. People need something they can count on to stay the same. That’s what Chez Remy is all about.”
    “That doesn’t mean it can’t change direction.”
    “There’s nothing wrong with staying the course.”
    “You’re just afraid,” she challenged.
    “Of what?”
    “Of what we might stir up together.”
    “Are we talking about Chez Remy here? Or something else entirely?” His eyes locked with hers and she almost stopped breathing.
    Melanie was vividly aware of everything. The feel of the concrete beneath her running shoes, the brilliant colors and intriguing smells of the market, the hungry taste of desire filling her mouth.
    The same desire that was reflected in Robert’s eyes.
    He wanted her as much as she wanted him, but he was too prudent to act on those feelings.
    “I’ll tell you what I’m really afraid of when it comes to you and me partnering up,” he murmured. “It’s not your off-the-wall recipes or your passionate nature.”
    “What is it then?”
    “You jump into things with enthusiasm, but I’m afraid you don’t have the staying power for the long haul.”
    “Huh?”
    “Frankly, Melanie, how can I go out on a limb with someone I can’t trust to watch my back?”
     
    T HE WOUNDED EXPRESSION in Melanie’s eyes told Robert he’d hurt her feelings.
    Damn. That hadn’t been his