by Melissa Blue
"Frat party. 1998."
"You went to college?"
"Got my degree in criminology and came back here to work with Shep. What? You’re surprised I left the sticks?"
"More surprised you came back." Funny, she’d always thought he’d leave here and never look back. He’d always been restless and waiting for something bigger and better. The one thing she thought they had in common.
Aiden shrugged. "I went to Stanford, served my time in college, and came back home."
When they’d finished unloading the Green Demon, Megan took the opened alcohol bottle and her vase from the front seat. His comment still bothered her, but she kept that to herself as he brought her into the living room. Megan stepped into his personal world and realized she knew nothing of the man he was now.
Pictures of his mother sat on the coffee table. Mentally she noted there were none of his father. The pillows on the couch were straight, no shoes sat by the door. It felt empty, as if he were waiting. For what, Megan couldn’t guess. She followed him into the kitchen, where he took out two glasses and filled them with ice.
Finally she asked the question. "What keeps you here, Aiden?"
He offered her the short glass filled with liquor. "Family."
No hesitation clouded his answer. Family was the reason she’d left. Not for the first time she realized how different they were now. He seemed content to just be, and she was always thinking of moving forward, how to make things better, what she could do next. She sipped from her glass and watched him move with ease around the kitchen. First he took the vase she’d placed on the counter and filled it with more water. Then he asked, "Hungry?"
"We should eat." She lifted her glass.
"Right." He laid out tuna, tomatoes, pickles, mayo, butter, and bread. Megan frowned at the ingredients, but the moment he started to move she was enraptured. He didn’t waste one movement. He cut the vegetables, greased the pan and toasted the bread in it, making it all look easy, with a purpose, and not one empty motion. Next, he placed the diced pickles in the pan, sprinkled spices over them and turned to lay the slices of tomato on the bread.
To fill up the silence, Megan said, "Speaking of family, what are you planning on doing once everyone gets here?"
Aiden shook his head and mixed the tuna with mayonnaise. "I lied about all that liquor being for the party."
Megan chuckled. "Good one."
"The question is, are you ready for all the family?"
Megan frowned into her drink. "To be honest, I haven’t thought that far. If I think too hard about Aunt Sarah, or Cousin Eileen, or Uncle Willie, I’ll come by and raid your garage."
He placed the pickles on the sandwich and the tangy smell of them hit her. "Chips?"
She nodded, intrigued more by this man than the one who could kiss her senseless. "Get the door." He motioned with his head. "I’ll bring everything outside."
As she started to place her glass on the patio table, it finally hit her why his house felt empty. He had made a home for a family. She gripped her glass in her hand. The ease of the evening left her. Another thing they didn’t have in common. She liked being single. She liked having no one to answer to. He did want a ready-made family and, if she was honest, he was always that way. But why did she care? She was leaving, remember?
Aiden placed the plate in front of her, piled with chips, and settled in the seat across from her. Not wanting to show her discomfort, Megan took a bite from the sandwich—oh, God, seduced by a tuna sandwich. "This is good."
"Thank you." Aiden took a bite of his sandwich, looking satisfied. "Since you’ve been asking probing questions, I’m going to ask a few."
She swallowed the food. "Shoot."
"Why a clothing store?" He smiled at her obvious expression of relief.
"I always thought if you wore the right thing it could make you feel beautiful. It could make people stop and admire you. You wouldn’t be invisible." Megan shrugged.
Aiden frowned. "You don’t live by your own philosophy?"
"What do you mean?"
"Since you’ve been here, you’ve worn one dress. All the other times, you’ve worn jeans and a T-shirt." He squinted his eyes. "The first day you were here, you had on a business suit like you were about to go to war with big business."
He’d noticed what she’d been wearing. "Clothes tell a lot about a person."
"Bull."
She raised her brows. "Okay, outside of your uniform, everything you wear is cotton. You like to be comfortable. You like things that last but are low maintenance. No matter what you have on, you never wear tennis shoes. Always boots." She shrugged. "Not sure of their significance, but it still means something."
"Impressed." He crossed his arms. "What does your clothing say about you?"
The question caught her off guard. "That I have incredible taste."
"Come on. If you saw yourself out on the street, what would you think?"
She huffed out a breath and closed her eyes, trying to think of how she looked this morning. "My hair is short, which means I don’t have time to do a Marsha late at night. My clothes fit me perfectly. So everything I wear is tailored, and the fact I can afford a tailor means my clothes are expensive, yet I keep them simple. No fuss and straight to the point, but I like to be admired for how easily I make my ‘look’ work for me."
"You used the word admire." Aiden frowned. "Who made you feel invisible?"
She glanced down at her glass. Apparently she’d been drinking too much. Megan shrugged again. "Why isn’t there a Mrs. Blake?"
"Looks like you don’t know what ‘subtle’ is, either." Aiden pointed out.
Megan laughed before she took another bite of sandwich. He leaned back in his chair, and for a moment she didn’t think he would answer. Aiden finally said, "I never found the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, much less produce children with."
But you asked me at one time. She bit back the comment because it was territory she wanted to avoid. They were finally relaxed around each other. More importantly, she wasn’t thinking about tearing off his clothes. Much.
"And to answer the question I’m sure you are about to ask, there is no Mr. Hazley because work gets in the way of dating, much less marriage."
"I’m surprised. Marriage crossed your mind?"
"Ha." Yes, it did, especially on the nights Megan was alone and her thoughts went back to Aiden. On the nights she let her mind remember the promises he had made to her. The same promises she’d walked away from. Sitting across from him now, she knew they would have ended up divorced and unhappy.
They wanted different things then and they wanted different things now. She wasn’t sure if he realized how much he ached for a family of his own. And—like then—she wasn’t going to stand in the way of his getting it. She glanced down at her glass again. She was getting too reflective for her own good. "Yeah, I think about it once every two years. It keeps me honest." Megan said to lighten her own dour mood.
He gestured to her plate. "Done?"
She tried to clear her head while he took the plates into the house. This spur-of-the-moment idea wasn’t going according to plan. She’d wanted something breezy and fun, but right now she was looking inward and having regrets she hadn’t allowed herself to have for twelve years. She was also wishing for things she couldn’t have.
Aiden came back outside. "Megan—" Then she heard the rattle of the gate. She pulled him down to her and pointed to the break in the fence. Mr. Samuel was making his way across Aiden’s lawn. Thankfully, the lights on the back porch where she sat had been left off. Still, if Mr. Samuel turned his head to the right, he’d see them huddled on the porch. Megan bit her lip to keep from laughing until Mr. Samuel disappeared on the other side of the second gate.
Megan loosened her hold on Aiden. "The best-known secret confirmed."
"You know, he runs the tool shop. I wonder if I can blackmail him into giving me the Stetson tool set."
"Aiden?"
He grinned, and her breath caught in her throat realizing how close they were. "Hey, it’s expensive." They were close enough for her to see when he realized how close and alone they were, and that he was practically standing between her legs.
"Is this what you were talking about earlier?" Megan leaned into him.
Aiden sighed, but kept his hand on her thigh. "Yes." He hesitated, then moved her legs apart and settled in between them. "The self-control part of me is telling me to take you home."
She wrapped each leg on the backs of his knees. He was hard against her in the dark. "So is my self-control." She sucked in a breath. "You should back up." He pressed himself closer and her insides twisted into a knot. "Aiden, this is a very bad idea."
"Tell me about it." He hesitated again, then kissed her.
This time the little zing had punch. She gripped his shoulders as the world spun around them. He tasted of scotch, hot and strong, overwhelming the self-control she’d been holding onto. Who was she kidding? Underneath her façade of cool she wanted him to touch her, tease her, make her want him until it felt more like pain than pleasure.
And the quiet promise was there each time his mouth took hers, each time he nibbled on her bottom lip, each time his tongue entered her mouth and tasted her. Megan wanted to know everything he could do to her now. So when Aiden lifted Megan’s shirt and unclasped her bra she didn’t stop him. She took his hands and placed them over her breasts. He brushed his palms across her nipples.
She let herself get lost in what he was doing and how easily he turned her body into a live wire by just his touch. And still he pressed closer to her as if their bodies weren’t close enough. She craved for a release only he could give her. "Naked. Now."
*****
The words came out as moans, and Aiden sank his teeth into the soft flesh of her neck, understanding the reasons for her urgency. He wanted to plunge deep inside her until she took all of him. He wanted to feel her hot and wet around him, pulling him, squeezing him tighter until he gave over to the demands of her body. Now.
But the selfish side of him wanted her aching for him and only him, first and last. He cupped her breasts in his hands, feeling how much more of a woman she’d grown into. He pulled back long enough to take off her shirt, and then he tasted her again. He felt drunk from the taste of her. He took her nipple gently between his teeth, teasing, tasting, filling his mouth with her again and again, until she ground against him, reminding him how perilously close he was to coming.
"Now," she pleaded.
"Not yet," Aiden murmured before he brought his lips back to hers while unzipping her pants.
"Finally." She said against his mouth as he lifted her out of the chair. "Sit down."
He started to protest, but her mouth was back on his. How easily she turned the tables, biting his bottom lip like he’d done hers. Before he could get control of the situation, he filled her warm and deft hands. This he hadn’t expected. In his mind, their being together like this had played out in different scenarios. Megan always wanting him, and he giving her pleasure she’d never known before or ever would know again. He’d filled those empty places inside himself with her. But he’d be a dumb man to complain. Since he wasn’t, he let Megan stroke him until he was pleading, "Now."
Megan straddled him and started to lower herself on him. He closed his eyes letting his head rest on the back of the chair until he felt her nestled against him. She was wetter, hotter, tighter than he’d imagined. He took hold of Megan’s hips and lifted her, then dropped her back down. Aiden wasn’t sure if it was a moan or gasp she made, but he repeated the motion just to hear the sound again.
"Hello? Aiden?"
He froze at the male voice coming over the fence.
Chapter 11
"Uh, yes, it’s me," Aiden said, and Megan could have killed him.
She punched him in his shoulder. "You’re going to make them come over here," she said in a harsh whisper.
"What the hell else am I supposed to do? They heard us," he whispered back. With some regret, she stood up, grabbed the few clothes she could find and ran into the house. She found the bathroom and turned on the cold water.
What had she been thinking?
Sex on a porch.
With Aiden.
She doused her face with cold water, hoping common sense would leak back in. She smelled like him. The automatic, savoring, deep breath told her common sense had left at the moment his lips touched hers. She looked at the face of the woman in the mirror. Who was this woman with flushed cheeks, wide almond eyes, and wearing—Megan looked closer—yes, a shit-eating-grin on her face?
"No, no."
She had to get out of here. Megan jumped at the knock on the door. "Hold on." She rushed to put on her clothes, even though he’d seen it all, he’d touched it all. No, no, no. What have I done?
"Megan?"
She opened the door. Aiden handed Megan her bra and underwear. Ah, yes, that’s what she’d done. "Thank you."
"Come on. Let me take you home."
She’d expected him to talk her into his bed. Technically, the damage had been done. "Uh, okay." She balled her undergarments in her hands and followed him out to the car. She counted the awkward minutes filled with silence on the way home, three of them, and finally she breathed easy when he parked in the drive—until Aiden spoke.
"I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean for things to get out of hand."
It took her a minute to process the apology and the reason for it. Now she knew what the term "doused with cold water" really meant.
"Apology accepted. At least now we know not to let it happen again." Megan knew how cold she sounded. Then again, how else was she supposed to sound when the man who just blew her mind was apologizing for it? "I’ll talk to Jane about the party and let you know."
He frowned. Good. The bastard. "Okay."
Megan stepped out of the car, doing her best to stuff the underwear and bra into her pocket. She walked toward the house and her steps faltered when she saw Jane standing at the door. Since she’d gotten a look in the mirror, Megan knew her bangs were askew, her breasts kowtowing to gravity, but thank God a grimace had replaced the grin.
"I saved you a plate." Jane glanced at the bulge in her pocket. Megan made a mental note to ask Jane much later about catering the party.
*****
He was a very sick, sick man, Aiden admitted to himself the next morning. He sipped the hot coffee, squinting at the Crime Dog. The damn thing seemed to be pointing at him. He hadn’t committed a crime, per se. Now if Mr. Samuel hadn’t called out first and had walked out into the yard, go ahead and add indecent exposure to the list of dumb things he’d done yesterday. Things had been fine. They had kept their heads—until they touched each other. Might as well have dropped a lit match on a pool of gasoline.
Then he’d bungled it at the end. Sick and dumb, that was Aiden, but that didn’t stop the smile from crossing his face.
"That smile ain’t got nothing to do with the strange noises coming from your backyard last night, I hope?"
He hissed when the hot coffee splashed on his hand. "You can’t creep up on people like that, Shep."
Shep stalked over to his desk. "Are you slow? Because I’m really starting to wonder if you have anything in between those big ears of yours."
"No, I’m not slow. What’s crawled up your butt?" Shep popped him in the head. "Hey."
"You leave that girl alone. Nicole is putting enough pressure on her as it is, and she doesn’t need you trying to tie her down to a place she’d rather leave."
"I’m not trying to do any of that."
"And what about those flowers sitting on your desk?"
Admitting who he bought them for, and how and why she left them at his house, might get him another knock on his head, given the gossip already spreading, which he was sure Shep knew. "Have you forgotten I’m a grown man?"
"Then start acting like one. Leave Megan alone. If she wants to stay here, th
en she will. Don’t go buying her flowers or having her making any noises in your backyard."
Aiden rubbed the side of his head. "What do you expect me to do?"
"Use the space between your ears, not what’s between your legs, for a start. Make sure you don’t run her off. She loves that house more than anything. If she doesn’t stay until the wedding, she won’t get it. Do you have an idea what you’re supposed to do now?" Shep turned without waiting for an answer and started to move to the back of the precinct.
"Yeah, have sex out of town."
"What did you say?" Shep poked his head from behind the door.
Aiden grabbed his coffee. "I’m going out," he said through clenched teeth.
Man, you’d think he’d tried to violate the Virgin Mary, not a woman who went pliant and willing at his touch. Really, he had the most to lose in this situation. And what was wrong with wanting her to stay?
Whoa.
He slowed his step. Very bad train of thought. She was going to leave. There wasn’t any question about it. She had never felt this place was her home. He’d never be enough to keep her from wanting to leave. Aiden stopped at the corner of Main and Elm. He nodded at Ms. Elise, who honked her horn as she passed by. Just because he was content to stay here didn’t mean Megan ever would be.
He sipped his coffee, thinking maybe he shouldn’t have apologized, and squelching the thought of her staying at the same time. Maybe he shouldn’t be harping over twenty minutes of ecstasy. The smile started again of its own will.
*****
What was the phrase? Ah, yes, Aiden was grinning like a Cheshire cat. The bastard. Megan lifted her chin and crossed the street. "Good morning to you."
His gaze lost its dreamy quality when it zeroed in on her. To her surprise it was pleasure, not satisfaction, filling his gaze. Her nonchalant façade faltered.
"How are you this morning?"
She shrugged, still unsure, because she had been sure Aiden was playing some game with her. Late last night when sleep eluded her, Megan had been forced to admit to herself she didn’t know Aiden anymore. He’d changed. He might be the type of man who’d see it fitting to have her yearning after him. She licked her lips nervously. "Fine. You?"