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“Your mother?!”

Melody sighed again.  “Yes, when we were getting ready to leave, she dragged me into the kitchen to get a piece of cake for Nick to take with him.  She obviously wanted to say something to me.  She hemmed and hawed for a bit, and then she said, ‘Melody, do you know that that young man is in love with you?’ and then she saw my reaction, and she said, ‘Oh…oh, I see.’  And then she paused.  ‘How old is he, Dear?’  I said, ‘he’ll be 24 in January.’  She said, ‘Hmmm…’ under her breath…you know that way she has…and then said, ‘so…six years’.  And then I said in this pathetic, sad voice which I wasn’t intending at all…’six and a half’.  And then she didn’t say anything else, but I got a really big hug when we left.  I don’t know what it meant, but I’m sure it will get explained to me at some date in the near future.”

Mart decided it was time to change the subject.  “So you’re rehearsing again?” 

“Yes, at Pineapple Ranch.  The new song.”

“The one where Nick is going to play the electric guitar.”

“Yep!  He’s going to bring down the house.” 

Melody had made some suggestions for a song and was delighted when Nick picked the one she wanted.   She had presented them all without comment because she wanted it to be his choice.  He picked House Arrest, an old Bryan Adams song from the 80’s.  It was a true rock song about a house party, and Nick would be able to wail.  There was also a hot guitar solo in the middle where he could really show his stuff.  The rest of them would all be able to sing along with the chorus.  It would be an incredible finale.

“How’s Stevie Ray?”  Mart had had a big crush on Stevie Ray when she was fifteen.  He was the closest thing to a rock star she’d ever met…until Nick.

“He’s cool.  Miranda’s pregnant again.  That’ll be four.”

“A quartet!  Tell him I said ‘hi’.”

“I will.  He let us in early…no big deal for him, nothing happens there during the day.  And it gave him a chance to jam with us.  It was fun, and Nick really learned a lot from him.  I’m sure he’ll be around next week when the other guys come in.”

“And did Stevie Ray figure it out…you know…you and Nick…?”

“He’s suspicious…he sees the closeness…but it could be the music, right?”

“I guess.  So are you keeping the song a secret from Rafe?”

“Not a secret, really.  We’re not announcing it, but if he asks, we’ll tell him.  We’re going to add it to the show in Japan.”

“Well, I gotta go…the kids are getting bored.  Christmas holidays lose their appeal in the second week, at least for parents!”

”Okay then, Happy New Year, Mart!”

“Happy New Year to you, Mel!  I’m glad you got that thing all sorted out.”

“Yeah, me too,” said Melody with a sigh.  “Bye.”

‘That thing’ was New Year’s Eve.  Rafe had wanted Nick to go to New York and do the Dick Clark thing in Times Square.  Nick said no, said he was on a break and wasn’t traveling to New York for a five-minute spot of chaos. 

Plan B for Rafe was one of the many parties going on in Los Angeles.  He offered a number of them for Nick’s perusal and suggested some girls, among them Marisa Tang.  Nick bristled at the implication that he couldn’t get his own date, and he almost confessed to Rafe that he was involved with Mel.

That was the cause of their first fight.  Mel was livid with Nick.  She said that they had agreed to keep their relationship a secret while they were on tour.  And the reason they were keeping it a secret was because Rafe would have a stroke if he found out…and now, Nick had almost told him!

“Tell me again why we have to keep it a secret,” said Nick, raising his voice.  “Because I still don’t get it.”  He threw himself down on her sofa.  He put his arms along the back of it and flicked his hands.  So, talk!

Mel explained it again…how Nick Carter was being marketed as a rock star.  Blond, single, beautiful…with a talent that was out of this world.  Nick, the grown up, the mature adult. 

Nick thought back to Rafe telling him he wouldn’t be on Sesame Street for awhile.  “So why can’t I be grown up enough to have a girlfriend?”  This was the part he didn’t get.

“Because of the age thing,” said Melody, with a sigh.  “Because I’m so much older, so that makes you so much younger.  And you know how the magazines love to put everyone’s age in brackets in those articles.”  She made brackets with her fingers as she talked.  “’Nick Carter (23) is seen here with Melody Jones (30)…’  You know they’ll be all over it.  Just look at what they’re doing to Justin Timberlake and Ashton Kutcher.”

Nick shrugged.  So?

“So they’ll never let you be Nick.  You’ll always be Nicky.  You’ll always be the kid.  And that’s what they’ll focus on.  When was the last time you read an article about Justin that mentioned his music?”

“I don’t read articles about Justin,” said Nick, with a pout.  Then with a sigh, he added, “Okay, so it’s still a secret.  But I want to be with you on New Year’s Eve.  I don’t want to go to a big, flashy party with some girl I don’t like and then sneak home into bed with you.”  He paused.  “Well, ‘the sneaking into bed with you’ part, I can go for in a big way, but not the other.”

Mel relented.  “Okay, try this.  Tell Rafe that New Year’s Eve is not the best occasion for a photo op, in your opinion, because people always assume that everyone is drinking.  So you’d rather not take the chance of a weird photo that makes you look drunk, even though you wouldn’t be, and besides you’re tired, so you’re just going to chill at home with your Nintendo and a couple of friends.”

“That’s a great idea!  And really, I’ll be here with you.  We can have a candlelight dinner and  drink some nice wine and…”

Melody cut him off.  “And just who is going to be cooking this dinner?”

Nick laughed.  “Well, I guess I just assumed you were…”

“Right!  A couple of Lean Cuisines and a flashlight…that’s what you’ll get.”

“Come here.”

Nick flashed that lop-sided grin that melted her bone marrow, and he crooked one of those long, beautiful fingers at her.  Melody’s stomach flipped over, and a thrill ran through her.  She took a step toward him. 

“Well, if you think…” she said, putting her hands on his shoulders and straddling his lap, “…if you think that this is going to make me cook for you…”

Nick put his hands on her hips and moved her down against him.  Melody circled her pelvis on his groin and felt him begin to harden. 

“I’m cooking for you right now,” he whispered.  He moved his hands up under her shirt and undid her bra.

Melody kissed him and then made love to his mouth, while his hands removed her top and then moved over her breasts, kneading them and pinching her nipples, rolling them back and forth in his fingers.

Nick moved his mouth away from hers and raised her up on her knees so that he could feast on her breasts.  He moved from one to the other, licking, sucking, gently biting while his hands caressed her back.  Melody moved her fingers through his hair and then massaged his neck.

Nick moved his head away from her and looked up at her face.  They stared at each other, saying an awful lot in a short glance.  “Can I make love to you now?” whispered Nick, with passion in his voice.

”Yes, please,” countered Mel, brushing his hair off his face and kissing his forehead.

Much later, Melody raised herself up on an elbow in the bed and asked, “So what do you want me to make for the dinner?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She made pasta.

They started the meal in the living room.

“What’s that?” asked Nick pointing to the platter.  There was a dip surrounded by three different colors of tortilla chips. 

“Spinach-Artichoke Dip,” replied Mel.  “Try it.  It’s good.”

Nick had never eaten an artichoke in his life.  He wasn’t even sure he’d seen one.  And he didn’t like spinach.  He made a face.

“Trust me,” said Mel pleasantly.  “It’s got melted cheese and stuff.  You won’t even taste the spinach.”

“What’s the point of it then, if you can’t taste the ingredients?” Nick wondered aloud.

“It’s the blending of the flavors,” said Mel.  She picked up a chip and dipped it into the warm mixture.  “Here…come on, don’t be such a baby…open up!”

With a grimace, Nick opened his mouth, and Mel slid the chip in.  He chewed on it thoughtfully while she watched him expectantly.  “It’s good,” he said, reaching for more.

“Told ya so,” said Mel.

“’Told ya so, told ya so.  Jeez, how mature,” said Nick in a mocking voice.  They both laughed, and Mel told him to put on some music while she checked on the rest of the dinner.

“I think you’ve been holding out on me,” said Nick, when she returned to the living room.  “Two Lean Cuisines and a flashlight, yeah, right!  I think you know how to cook.”

”Actually, yes, I’m a wonderful cook.  I don’t get to do it very often.  It’s not really worth it for just one person.  But do you think I was going to let on to you guys that I could cook?  I’d spend all my free time on tour in the kitchen.”

Nick came up to her and held out his arms.  Dance?  Mel slipped into his arms, and they moved together.  “No way,” he said.  “I want you spending all your free time on tour in another room altogether.”

“Mmm…” she said, leaning against his chest and breathing him in.

They danced and ate Spinach-Artichoke Dip.  Then they sat across from each other at the table and talked about Japan while they ate pasta and salad.  Vegetarian pasta.  Nick had never seen so many different vegetables in one place in his life. 

“What’s for dessert?” asked Nick.  They had moved back to the living room and were finishing the wine, seated across from each other.  He knew there would be dessert.  There always was with Mel.

“I made something light…Marsala Mousse.”

Nick was afraid to ask what a ‘marsala’ was.

Mel smothered the smile which threatened.  “Marsala is a kind of dessert wine.  Come on, you can help me serve it.  I made chocolate covered strawberries for garnish.”

Nick followed her into the kitchen.  “Wait until the guys hear that you know how to garnish,” he said with a grin.  The look on her face made him backtrack immediately.  “I’ll never tell,” he said quickly, holding up his hands in surrender.  Then he leaned in and kissed her because…well, because it just seemed perfectly appropriate.

“I made a bunch of these,” said Mel, nodding at the strawberries.  “I thought we might want them… later.”

They stayed up until midnight.  They talked and listened to music and flipped through the TV channels watching snippets of the various local New Year’s Eve shows.  The New Year had already been rung in on the East Coast.  Finally at five minutes to midnight, they found a station that was replaying the Dick Clark Special.  They laughed at the thought that they were counting down something three hours old, but they counted it down anyway.  Then they shared a tender kiss.

“Happy New Year, Baby,” whispered Nick. 

“Happy New Year,” answered Mel.  She clicked off the television and stood up.  “2004,” she said, holding out her hand.  “Let’s ring in the New Year.”