by Ivy James
“Don’t do that. Don’t ever do that.”
He frowned at the panic in her tone, the fear-glazed look in her eyes. She’d avoided him all evening, gone to bed early. Had something happened? “I’m sorry.”
She lifted a hand to her face and shoved her hair out of the way. “No, it’s—it’s okay. I’m jumpy tonight.”
“Why? Did you have another bad dream?”
Her gaze flicked to his in wary surprise. That changed to suspicion when her attention shifted to his hand.
“What are you doing?”
Her gaze focused on the rag and beneath the soft glow of the light over the sink, he saw her pale.
“I—I’m sorry. I thought I got it all.”
“Does this have anything to do with that mountain of cookies over there?”
Emotions danced over her face, sadness, determination, bittersweet joy. “I felt so bad after the dirt cookie incident that I wanted to make a new memory for Simon.” A small, sad smile pulled at her lips. “Our first attempt didn’t go so well because I, um, accidentally dropped the bowl. Nothing broke,” she rushed to reassure him, “but it made an awful mess.” She reached for the rag. “Here, let me have that. I’ll clean it again.”
He held his hand up so that she couldn’t get it. “It’s fine. I’m almost done.” He couldn’t keep from chuckling. “I would’ve loved to have seen your face. I’ll bet you—What?”
Megan blinked and tilted her head to one side, her face a mass of confusion, disbelief and something close to…pleasure?
“You’re not mad.”
She said it with absolute and total amazement. “Because you had an accident? No, sweetheart. Why would I be?”
Megan closed the distance between them in a scant second, plastered herself to his front and kissed him. Ethan told himself to keep it light, a kiss of…thanks or friendship or whatever Megan meant the gesture to be. But he was also a guy with a beautiful woman in his arms, a woman he’d wanted to taste for too damn long, and no way was he going to let the opportunity pass.
Pressing Megan closer, he returned the kiss with all the desire and curiosity inside him, plundering her mouth when she parted her lips and let him inside. This wasn’t a tender, get-to-know-you peck but a raw, full-blown kiss. As a first it blew his mind, because she tasted like spearmint and rich wine and sex in a darkened kitchen.
His body went up in flames as all the blood drained from his brain to regions that hadn’t seen any action in months, and he kept on kissing her, nudging her backward until her waist hit the counter and he cupped her behind, lifting, setting her on the edge with him wedged firmly between her thighs.
Ethan broke the continuous stream of kisses and trailed his lips along her jaw, lower. He nibbled and kissed the tender crook of her neck, smiling at her muffled gasp, the goose bumps that rose on her skin. Her hands gripped his shoulders, fingers digging into his T-shirt to hold him close and he continued his exploration, ignoring the voice in his head to end things now before he did something to scare her or, worse yet, ruined a phenomenal working relationship.
His hands drifted from her waist, up her sides beneath her robe but over her pajama top, thumbs brushing the outsides of her small breasts. She wore nothing underneath. Megan caught her breath and held it as he hesitated, drawing the moment out and savoring the excitement of touching her for the first time. Faces close, noses brushing, he watched Megan’s lashes flutter open when he covered her breasts with his palms and gently squeezed, learning the shape, tracing the delicate tips with his thumbs. Her thighs tightened at his waist, nudging the length of him standing at full attention against the cotton-covered place he most wanted to be.
But there was something wrong. These past weeks of living together had given him more insight into her moods and this one made him leery. She seemed desperate, hurting. Trying to run away from whatever it was in her head, whatever had made her jumpy. And while he’d like nothing more than to let her use his body at will, he also knew she’d regret it come morning.
“Sweetheart, we have to stop.” He breathed the words against her mouth, kissed her gently to soften the refusal and somehow made himself smooth his hands back down to her sides. He snuggled her close, pulling her into his arms and rubbing her back until the feverish need to go further burned a little less hot. “I think it’s clear I want you. We’d be fantastic together,” he added, not bothering to disguise the need in his husky voice.
“But Jenn’s warned you to run the other way.”
He nudged her chin up with a finger, pulling back to see her face. “This has nothing to do with Jenn.” He dropped another kiss on her lips. “And everything to do with what’s best for Simon…and you. We do this,” he said, leaning into the vee of her hips and letting her feel how hard he was as a result of their play, “and there’s no going back. Plus—” he smoothed his thumb over her soft lower lip “—being in Niger has changed my perspective on casual sex. HIV has a way of doing that.”
“I’m safe. I was tested after…I’ve been tested.”
He wanted to ask what she was about to say, but didn’t. “So have I. But if we do this, we don’t have to be in a hurry, do we?”
He wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised by his question. To suggest they could do this again later after what he’d just said meant…what? Something more serious?
“Most guys wouldn’t have stopped.”
“I don’t want to. I want you stripped and naked,” he stated bluntly, his mind picturing her that way now. “But until you can sleep in my house without having nightmares, until you can kiss me because you want to and not because you’re jumpy or grateful I wasn’t angry over an accident, we need to get to know each other better.”
She tilted her head to the side, looking soft and sad and happy all at once. He dropped another kiss to her mouth because he couldn’t help himself and sighed. “Come on. Neither one of us are tired right now. Let’s go grab some of those cookies. I think there’s just enough ice cream left.”
Chapter 16
FIVE MINUTES LATER they were curled up on the couch. The impromptu make-out session in the kitchen should have made things awkward, but all he felt was an intense need for a repeat—soon. “I, um, remember Gram doing the same thing when I was a kid,” he murmured, attempting to make small talk and follow his own advice of learning more about Megan.
“Your grandmother?”
“Yeah. She and the girls—my sister, Alex, and her best friend, Shelby—were in the kitchen baking for Christmas. There wasn’t a single spot that wasn’t covered by cookies or dough. It looked like an assembly line. Anyway, Alex and Shelby started arguing over something, Gram got distracted and the bowl of cookie mix hit the floor. Everyone in the house came to see what the fuss was about because they started laughing so hard.”
“Sounds like a lot of fun. Your family’s close?”
“Yeah, very. You’ll meet the rest of them soon. At Thanksgiving, if not before.”
Her smile dimmed. “I doubt Jenn will want me there.”
Maybe not, but as Simon’s nanny, Megan had to set aside her need for Jenn’s approval and accept the fact that sometimes two people just had to agree to disagree. “I wouldn’t be allowed in the door if I didn’t bring you. And I want you to go.” He wanted to see for himself what his family thought of Megan, if they’d accept her based on their impressions rather than Jenn’s. “Don’t worry about Jenn. My family takes their hosting duties very seriously,” he told her with a smile, “and you’ll be welcome, fed and fussed over until you can’t wait to get out the door.”
Megan rubbed her hands up and down her arms as though chilled, an unreadable expression on her face. “That sounds nice.”
Her look of longing gave him pause. That and her envy of how close his family was in comparison to hers gave him more insight into her sincerity. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
Her head dipped and he saw her wriggle her toes where her feet were propped on the coffee table. A
flush surged into Megan’s cheeks, and Ethan couldn’t help but think if she was experienced at stealing boyfriends and marrying them, she should’ve lost the ability to blush a while ago.
“Jenn will probably accuse me of sleeping with you, especially after that crack I made about taking advantage of you. Think she’ll be able to tell we…”
“Made out like teenagers?” He set his bowl of ice cream aside and put his arm around Megan’s shoulders. “I don’t care if she can tell. Don’t let her be too hard on you. It’s none of her business what we do or don’t do.”
“That’s what I told Nick.” She released the lip she worried between her teeth and smiled at him, leaning her head on his shoulder briefly before raising it again with a tentative look of trust mixed with unease. “Ethan…can I ask you something?”
With one look at her face, Ethan could tell how much impact Megan was placing on his response. “You can ask me anything, say anything and never fear the repercussions, Megan.”
Ethan’s heart stuttered to a halt when Megan gifted him with a beautiful smile. Her smiles had become more frequent lately, but none of them looked like the one she gave him now.
“Thanks. That means a lot.”
“You’re welcome. Now ask.”
Whatever it was took more preparation because she inhaled deeply before saying, “I, um, took Simon to pick out some clothes like you asked. I put everything away and left the tags on, so if there’s anything you don’t like or think is too much, they can go back.”
“I’m sure they’re fine. Was there a problem at the store?”
“No.” She played with the ice cream in her bowl, digging her spoon into the mix and making it into a chunky milk shake. “But someone said—that is, I heard…Is Nick abusive?”
“What?” Ethan turned to stare at her, unable to mask his surprise. “Is someone saying that? Who?”
“It doesn’t matter who, what matters is if it’s true.”
“It’s not.”
“Are you sure? Do you know if Nick made Jenn work out so hard that she passed out?”
Damn. He’d suspected Megan had been ill-treated but this—He didn’t like the thoughts in his head, the confirmation he saw in her eyes with her worry for Jenn. Even now Megan had a hard time looking directly at him, despite having accused his brother of hurting his wife. “Like me,” he stated firmly, “Nick wouldn’t hurt anyone. Sweetheart, the only way any member of my family would hurt someone is if someone they cared for was being threatened. And if that was the case, we would all do whatever was necessary to protect our own. As to what happened at the gym, I was there the day Jenn nearly passed out. She didn’t, she just got light-headed and dizzy, but it was because she hadn’t followed the diet regime and skipped breakfast.”
“He has her on a regime?”
She said the words with enough disgust that Ethan’s fingers tensed on her shoulder. He instantly relaxed his hand and smoothed his fingers into a massaging caress, and focused on controlling his anger reflexes until Megan knew him well enough to know she never had anything to fear from him. Still, he hated gossips and was upset by Megan’s worry.
“Get the story straight,” he told her, “before you jump to conclusions and judge. Small-town gossip can get ridiculously bent out of shape in no time flat. The truth is, Jenn went to Nick and asked for advice on how to lose weight. He owns the gym as well as the garage in town, and he’s done a bit of personal training.
“They made a deal and Nick put together a healthy program for her that Jenn ignored because she felt she wasn’t losing fast enough. And for the record, Nick was beside himself when it happened. He wouldn’t turn loose of her for a long time afterward because she’d given him such a fright.”
Megan stared into the flames created by the gas logs, her thoughts her own. Finally she inhaled, and he knew she’d come to a conclusion when her body relaxed against his side.
“So, Nick’s never given her a hard time about her appearance? You’re sure?”
“Megan, Nick can’t keep his hands off your sister. Trust me, he has no problem with her appearance. His love for her goes much deeper than that. Now I have a few questions for you. Who made you worry that Jenn was being abused? Not Mrs. Stouts—I know she’s a gossip and you probably heard the story from her. I want to know who made you worry about it in the first place. Who gave you the nightmares that make you so jumpy? Who scared you?”
Megan lowered the spoon to her bowl and tried to smile, but the effort was weak and completely unbelievable. “Just because I’m wondering about it doesn’t mean—Where are you going?”
He’d removed his arm from around her shoulders and sat forward on the couch, ready to stand. “I’d hoped you’d be honest with me. It’s time, don’t you think? Especially after what happened in the kitchen?”
A huff left her chest. “Oh, I get it. You talk to me about Nick and Jenn, but because I’m not gushing out my life story, you’re going to go clean?” she asked, snorting. “You know you have a problem, don’t you?”
“I’m not obsessive-compulsive.”
“Yeah, and my ex-husband wasn’t a jerk. He was a nightmare from start to finish, okay? But you—You want to know why you can’t relate to Simon? I’ve figured it out if you’re interested.”
One look at her face had Ethan wanting to jump up and get out of there, but he forced himself to remain seated beside her. Why hadn’t he just kept on kissing her? If he had, they’d be in bed right now doing something a lot more appealing than arguing. “Tell me.” It was as much of an acknowledgment as he could muster under the circumstances.
“You’re not going to like it.”
Go figure. Who wanted to be roasted over hot coals?
“Look, I’m just going to say it, okay? Simon’s reacting to the whole cleaning thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, why so much?”
Trust was fragile, but he’d begun to build a level of trust with Megan. If he overreacted to her criticism, he could blow all the progress he’d made with her. So don’t overreact. “Megan, I’m not O.C.”
Megan’s expression clearly stated that she was convinced otherwise. “It’s been said before?”
“Garret,” he admitted reluctantly. “He joked about it when he lived here, but I’ve always been neat.” And that sounded way too defensive.
“Ethan.” She placed her ice-cream-cold fingers on his arm. “Neatness is one thing, but have you always cleaned the kitchen cabinets at three in the morning?”
He studied her, noticing that since she’d arrived the shadows were gone from beneath her eyes, and she’d lost the stark, gaunt look from three steady meals a day. A wave of protectiveness washed over him, through him, and for a guy known for his two-to-screw dating system, the power behind the awareness terrified him.
He wasn’t ready for this. He couldn’t handle Simon, much less a relationship with a woman who was such a challenging mix of beauty, smart-mouthed sass and vulnerability. It brought out his possessive side even as it made him want to get up and run. He wanted to kiss her, take her to bed. Tell her to shut up, because he wasn’t O.C. and that’s obviously where the conversation was headed. And even though he knew she trembled at confronting him over what she believed to be his problem with Simon, she did it anyway, ratcheting up his admiration for her. “Megan, I can’t sleep and it’s how I keep busy. Wear myself down. I’m not O.C.”
“Okay, fine. You’re not. But it doesn’t change the fact that Simon can’t relax here.”
Can’t relax? What did that have to do with cleaning? “I’m not following.”
She stroked his arm gently, distractedly. “At first I didn’t pay any attention because I thought it was just his personality and he was withdrawn and quiet, but then…”
“Then what? What have you noticed?”
“I’ve noticed your constant cleaning, and needing everything to be put away before he’s barely finished playing with it. It’s freaking him out. To
be honest, it’s freaking me out, too,” she added, looking away, “but it’s really messing with Simon. I think he’s afraid. When I spilled the flour…”
She closed her eyes and a look of heartache flashed over her face. Pain. She scooted forward to set her bowl on a magazine atop the coffee table and flashed him a look he couldn’t quite interpret. The fire hissed behind the grate, the burning gas the only noise in the room other than the old-fashioned mantel clock ticking softly from its perch.
“After I made the mess, I was…upset. But then Simon got upset and I wanted to show him that it was okay, so we started playing in it and goofing off. Ethan, he laughed, really laughed. I’ve seen Simon smile, but the sound made me realize I haven’t heard him laugh the entire time I’ve been here.”
He hadn’t, either. And he regretted that he hadn’t been around to hear it.
“The two can’t be coincidence. The flour was all over the place and things were a mess and for the first time Simon didn’t look like he was ready to be punished for something. He relaxed and played and he had fun. But before, when we were in the kitchen and everything was all nice and tidy, I was trying to get him to help and he just sat there like always, like he was scared to touch anything and mess it up.” She shot him a long glance from beneath her lashes. “That’s why I think he’s afraid of making a mess, afraid you’ll be upset or disappointed, maybe even afraid he’ll be punished or that you’ll send him away.”
A fist to his gut couldn’t have been more surprising. The air left his lungs and he surged to his feet, crossing the room in three quick strides until he realized he had nowhere to go. “He thinks I’d send him back to Niger?”
Megan’s eyes glittered in the firelight, a little wary, definitely sad, but soft and determined and brave.
“He never said that or indicated that. This is just my opinion, but—Ethan, he’s five. What does a five-year-old really understand about adoption? And you clean so much, expect everything to be so freaking neat all the time, I think Simon equates him making a mess to being bad. He went to school in Niger, right? Ethan, Simon has manners and someone taught them very well. Think about it—when you’re a guest in someone’s house, aren’t you supposed to be a little more conscious of what you’re doing? Aren’t you on your best behavior? Do you not mind your manners and—” her voice lowered “—behave so that you’re asked back or allowed to stay?”