Never Too Late for Love. Marie Ferrarella

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      Margo’s smile widened. And grew sexier, in Bruce’s estimation.

      Oh boy, Melanie thought. She took her mother’s hand and tugged ever so gently. “Just a minute,” she promised again.

      This wasn’t like Melanie, Margo thought. Her daughter looked almost worried as she led her off. “Okay, out with it,” Margo ordered when they were barely out of Bruce’s earshot. “What’s wrong?”

      Where to begin? Heaven knew, Melanie didn’t want to hurt her mother’s feelings. But she didn’t want to see Bruce’s feelings hurt, either. She plunged in, beginning with a declaration. “Mama, you know I love you.”

      Years of experience warned Margo what was coming next. “There’s a lecture attached to that proclamation, isn’t there?”

      This was all virgin territory for Melanie. She wouldn’t presume to tell her mother what to do. She wet her lips. “Not a lecture, but...”

      Margo didn’t need subtitles to tell her what was going on. “You’re afraid I’m going to lay waste to Lance’s father.”

      Melanie took her mother’s hand between her own. “Not exactly waste, but—”

      Gently slipping her hand away, Margo cupped Melanie’s cheek. Was she really worried? “Sweetheart, he’s a very charming man without meaning to be, which makes him even more so. But charming or not, all we’re doing is just swapping old in-law stories.”

      Melanie arched an eyebrow. The word old had never had anything remotely to do with her mother. “Neither one of you is an old anything.”

      Margo’s eyes sparkled. “That’s what makes swapping so much fun.”

      Maybe, Melanie thought, Bruce could do with a dose of her mother. A small dose to make him feel vital again, but not enough to drown him. “What else are you going to swap?”

      “Well, not clothes,” Margo teased, slipping her arm through Melanie’s, “he’s way too tall.” Margo studied Melanie’s face. She was concerned. The realization took her slightly aback. “Honey, just what are you worried about?”

      There had never been any lies between them, not even half truths. Melanie couldn’t set a precedent now. “Bruce isn’t exactly a sophisticated, experienced man as far as women are concerned, Mama. I don’t want to see him hurt.”

      The fact that Melanie’s loyalty lay with someone else stung her a little before she banked it down. Her smile remained intact as she asked, “How about me?”

      Melanie laughed, giving her mother’s hand a quick, firm squeeze. “You can handle yourself. You always have.”

      That was the price she paid for being strong, Margo thought. No one thought for a moment that she might be the one who could be hurt.

      Which was, she reminded herself quickly with no patience for her momentary lapse, just the way she wanted it and just the way she always kept it. Never mind that it wasn’t true. That wasn’t anyone’s business but hers.

      She winked at Melanie. “I promise not to skewer any vital, irreplaceable part of Mr. Bruce Reed, including his heart. How’s that?”

      Melanie’s expression softened, guilt lightly flicking a finger at her conscience. “I didn’t mean to sound judgmental, Mama, but he doesn’t even date. He leads a very straight and narrow life. The man won’t even let himself be fixed up by any of his married friends.”

      A challenge, thought Margo. She always loved a challenge, especially one that was so good-looking. “Then it’s about time he had a little fun, don’t you think?”

      Melanie looked at her dubiously. “A little, yes, but—”

      Margo raised one hand in a solemn pledge. “I promise not to lead him into Sodom or Gomorrah for at least the remainder of the afternoon.”

      This time guilt not only flicked Melanie, it pinched. Remorse was instant. “I’m sorry, Mama, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

      The tables turned immediately. Not for the world would Margo give her daughter one moment’s grief or concern. “You could never hurt my feelings, pet. Have you forgotten, I’ve got a hide as tough as a rhino?”

      But Melanie saw through that. “It wasn’t your ‘hide’ I was thinking about.”

      Margo redirected Melanie’s attention to her groom. “And it shouldn’t be my anything that’s on your mind at all. Not when you have that drop-dead-gorgeous man of yours promising to love and cherish you for the rest of his natural life.” She cocked her head, struggling to keep a grin from her lips. “Don’t you two have a honeymoon to go to?”

      Melanie and Lance had discussed that and decided to put it off until they could afford to go to someplace memorable. “We’re not planning on going on a honeymoon until sometime later.”

      Margo already knew that. She’d called and taken Joyce into her confidence. It was Joyce who’d secretly packed their luggage. “Take it from me, later has a habit of either slipping away or being used for something else. Go now, you won’t regret it.”

      “I’m afraid that we ca—”

      Allowing herself a dramatic flourish, Margo produced two airline tickets from her beaded purse. “Two tickets to Hawaii and a two-week reservation at the best hotel on Oahu.”

      Overwhelmed, Melanie could only stare at the tickets in her mother’s hand. “Mother, you didn’t.”

      Margo pressed the tickets into her hand. “The airline and hotel people seem to think I did.”

      Lance joined them, slipping his arm around Melanie’s waist. He noticed the stunned expression on her face. “Everything all right?” He kissed her temple. “I got lonely.”

      He couldn’t have been better if she’d handpicked him, Margo thought. Pleased, she took each of their hands in hers and held them for a moment, her heart brimming. “Oh, God, Melanie, he is perfect.”

      Recovering, Melanie held up the tickets. “Mother’s sending us to Hawaii for our honeymoon.”

      Coming to grips with his surprise, Lance began to demur. Margo recognized pride when she saw it and quickly headed it off. “It’s a wedding present. Two tickets to Oahu, first class, plus you’ll be staying at the best hotel, in the bridal suite.”

      That had to have set her back a lot. Lance shook his head. “Mrs.—I mean Ms.—” Neither term seemed appropriate. He took a breath. “We can’t—”

      “Call me Margo,” Margo told him. “We’re going to be an informal family. And I certainly can’t go, so you have to. You’re the only bridal couple I see in the room.”

      Lance tried again, having the sinking feeling that the effort was doomed to failure. He already knew where arguing with Melanie got him. Nowhere. And he had a strong suspicion that it was a hereditary trait. “This is too generous.”

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