Chapter 18

Mellie had never been struck dumbfounded by a kiss before. It was a hell of a kiss. A no-holds-barred-oh-my-heavens kind of kiss. The best kiss ever.

And it was her fault, because she had tilted her head upward just a little, meeting his lips—lips that were probably going to brush her cheek—with her own open mouth. She had forced the kiss, and lonely man that he was, he had enjoyed it.

Until he remembered how she was.

She pressed her hands against her hot cheeks. It had taken all of her strength to keep from grabbing him and forcing him backwards over the table. And when he stepped back, it took even more strength to keep her arms at her side so that she didn’t grab him, pull him forward, and kiss him until someone kicked them out of the coffee shop for lewd and lascivious conduct.

He was a Charming. Hell, he was the Charming. How many people thought of Snow White’s Charming when they thought of Prince Charming or of Sleeping Beauty’s Charming? They all thought of Cinderella’s Charming. This Charming.

Mellie’s Charming.

Her cheeks grew even warmer.

She knew she had looked at him like a silly little fan girl when he stepped back. And that look had caused him to grab his briefcase and flee.

Of course, he’d said something polite—a nice, tame thank-you, with a calm voice and such a warm smile. But he was a Charming, he was the Charming, and of course he was nice about it. He saw that he had rattled her and he couldn’t deal with it (after all, he was a shy Charming), and he fled before the situation got worse.

She was still in her chair, two unfinished cinnamon rolls in front of her (neither of those would last long), but she was staring at the door now, probably with a wistful look.

How many women launched themselves at him? How many females had done so—females of all ages? And what about gay men? Charming probably had to dodge admirers everywhere he went, all of whom looked at him with that same combination of wistful and longing.

The same way most people from the Kingdoms looked at her when they met her—with terror and utter loathing. Then they got to know her and they realized she wasn’t so bad after all.

She wondered if anyone ever completely got past Charming’s charm. Which made her wonder if anyone ever completely got past their loathing of her—and that thought made her cringe.

“That was weird,” said the pudgy guy.

She looked over at him, about to make some kind of comment about the pudgy guy’s nosiness, but she stopped herself in time.

Besides, the pudgy guy wasn’t done talking.

“I mean, you gave him the answer, then he kisses you, and runs away as if whatever he had to do was more important. Weird.”

Her cheeks warmed even more. She shrugged, uncertain what to say.

“I didn’t mean to listen in,” the guy said. “But he named his daughter Imperia. I didn’t even know that was a name.”

“Anything’s a name,” Mellie said, “if you use it that way.”

“I guess,” the guy said. “He’s kind of a piece of work, isn’t he?”

“Charming?” she asked. Who would describe Charming as a piece of work?

“Oh, hell, no,” the pudgy guy said. “He’s not charming at all. What kind of charming guy leaves without a proper good-bye?”

It took Mellie a moment to realize the guy thought she had said that Charming was charming, which he was—except, apparently, to the pudgy guy. Although Charming had gotten mad at him after all. She wouldn’t have thought that a Charming could get mad. Or at least, this Charming.

“Look,” the pudgy guy said, “you’re a pretty lady and awfully smart, and you deserve someone better than that guy. I mean, he can’t even sit still.”

“He’s not that bad,” Mellie said, her cheeks so warm that they actually hurt. The pudgy guy had called her pretty.

“I don’t mean to be talking about him,” the pudgy guy said. “It’s just that I don’t want you to think I’m creepy or anything, but I couldn’t help noticing you the last few days. And that guy aside, I’d like to get to know you better. How about lunch?”

She didn’t recognize him, and he didn’t have that sparkle that indicated he was from the Kingdoms. He was from the Greater World and he had just asked her to lunch.

Normally, she would have gone. Then she would have regaled him with her stories of downtrodden archetypes, after she quizzed him on his knowledge of fairy tales, of course.

But she didn’t want to do either today. She didn’t care what he thought of evil stepmothers. She didn’t even care that he had a mind open to change. She used to think she could conquer the fairy tale myths, one open mind at a time.

“Thanks,” she said, “but—”

“But you’re holding out for that guy,” the pudgy guy said.

“No,” she said quietly. “He’s nice, but we’re such opposites. And besides, I don’t hold out for anyone.”

The pudgy guy smiled. He wasn’t bad-looking when he smiled. “There was still a but after you thanked me for the invitation.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m not really up for lunch.”

She looked at the cinnamon rolls.

“But you could save me from one of these.”

He patted his stomach. “Like I need more cinnamon rolls,” he said, and grinned. “However, I’m not the kind of man to turn one down.”

She laughed. “I’m Mellie,” she said, pushing a chair back.

“Dave,” he said, and she actually flinched.

“Seriously?” she asked.

“Seriously, I’m David. But to people I like, I’m Dave.”

“And you hope to be someone’s prince charming someday,” she said softly.

“Oh, no,” he said. “I’ve been someone’s prince charming. I don’t like being an illusion. I want to be someone’s Dave someday.”

She smiled. “That seems like a reasonable ambition,” she said as he joined her at her table.

“I don’t know about reasonable,” he said. “But it’s practical. And I’ve learned the hard way that we should be practical in relationships.”

“Yeah,” she said, feeling more than a little sad for both of them. “Practical always works best.”