by Warren, Pat
Credit was another, Megan thought as she tossed clothespins into a canvas bag that hung by a wire on the line. If only Neal hadn’t ruined their credit by buying so much, then ignoring the monthly payments, she might have been able to charge a new dryer. As it was, no place would take a chance on her past credit history, even though she’d paid off Neal’s most pressing debts. In time maybe, but not yet.
Nevertheless, Megan knew she couldn’t get by for long without a dryer. Reaching for the next sheet, she found herself frowning, something she did all too often lately. Who wouldn’t frown faced with her problems? Her foot still ached, though not nearly as badly as before. Naturally, it would heal faster if she remained off it. But she couldn’t let Grace shoulder so much of the work.
While drying the many sheets, towels and table linens outdoors was an option, it clearly was too time-consuming and required more ironing. She’d simply have to give in and use some of the money she’d been saving to bring her mortgage payments up to date and buy a new dryer tomorrow. Maybe if she stopped in and had another chat with Mr. Williams at the bank, she could buy some time.
Lord, how she hated to keep asking for favors, for extensions, for loans. When would she ever get caught up? Maybe she should just sell Delaney’s Bed & Breakfast, take a small apartment for herself and Ryan and get a job where she earned a paycheck every Friday. What a relief it would be not to have to worry constantly.
She placed another sheet in the basket and moved to the second line for the remaining towels. The problem there was that the inn needed work before anyone would want to buy it. And she had no money for repairs, either. And how could she get rid of the only home Ryan had ever known? She’d fought with Neal about purchasing the old house until he’d given in because she didn’t want their son to grow up in the same vagabond existence she’d had, moving often, one jump ahead of bill collectors. Yet despite her best efforts, she was in basically the same boat that had nearly sunk her mother. Round and round her thoughts went, circling like a trapped mouse in a maze. There had to be a way out of this mess she’d made of her life, but what was it?
She still owed a substantial amount of money, she was worried that she would have to let her son down, and her emotions were in a jumble because of Alex Shephard. Mysterious, enigmatic, evasive Alex, with his keen sense of humor, that killer smile and a sixth sense about children. And a mouth that made her throat go dry and her knees weaken.
He’d been oddly scarce this evening, most probably in his room, for his car was out front. Even when he wasn’t in her line of vision, she was painfully aware of his presence.
Wanting a man like that, even fantasizing about him, was an unexpected annoyance. Maybe in her teens, she’d felt like this, Megan admitted. But certainly not since, and not very exuberantly then. Years ago, she’d come to grips with the fact that she’d gone after Neal Delaney more out of a desperate desire to get out of her mother’s unhappy household than a wild desire for him as a man. Too late she’d learned to regret that foolish ambition.
But Alex was another story. Just last night, she’d awakened in a sweat, tangled in the sheets, finding herself struggling with the remnants of a dream where he’d been holding her, kissing her, making love with her. As dreams are wont to do, their union was perfect, of course. That was truly a fantasy she would surely regret if she ever gave in to it.
Pausing, Megan straightened up from the basket, her hand involuntarily touching the small scar beneath her bangs near her hairline. Odd how all this time later, she still vividly remembered that night when—
“Penny for your thoughts,” Alex said, standing on the edge of the patio.
Startled, Megan jumped, so wrapped up in her dismal thoughts that she hadn’t heard the back door open. She rearranged her features before turning to see him standing in a splash of moonlight. Darkness had moved in quickly. “I’m afraid you’d get change tonight.”
Casually, he strolled toward her. “Can’t be that bad, can it?” He glanced over at the last few towels as she reached up to remove them, having heard about the problem from Grace in the kitchen minutes ago. “Is it the death of your dryer that’s got you frowning?”
That was only the last straw, but she’d let him think what he would. “Pretty good reason, wouldn’t you say?”
Tomorrow, he’d see about a dryer for her. He wouldn’t tell her, just order it. “I guess so.”
Determined to stop her melancholy meanderings, Megan changed the subject. “You certainly resemble your father.”
“So everyone says.” He scooted the clothespin bag closer to her. “He’s a good father, even if he worries too much.”
“That’s a parent’s prerogative, to worry about their children.”
“Did Neal worry a great deal about Ryan?”
“Neal worried about Neal.” Now why had she let that slip out? Megan wondered as she dropped the last folded towel into the basket. “I’m sorry. I’m a little tired and I don’t want to talk about Neal tonight.”
“Why, Megan? Because he not only didn’t take care of his health, but he didn’t take very good care of his family, running up debts, almost bankrupting you?” In the patchy moonlight, he saw her eyes go wide, then suddenly turn sad.
“Yes, that’s exactly why.” She was tired of fencing, of alibiing, of pretending. Guiltily, she glanced toward Ryan’s upstairs bedroom window, worried that he might somehow overhear. Guilt, a constant companion. “Forget I said that. I shouldn’t be telling you such personal things.”
Alex stepped closer, so close she couldn’t avoid looking at him. “It’s too late for that. I already know.”
Her silvery blue eyes studied his face. “Grace. I should have guessed.”
“Don’t be angry with her. I kept after her. I had to know.” His hands settled at her waist.
Megan felt the heat of his touch through her clothes. “Why?”
The humiliation of the debts was bad enough, but Grace had hinted at Neal’s unfaithfulness, as well. That had to have hurt even more. Alex wanted to let her know that her husband’s roving eye wasn’t her fault, because he had a feeling she blamed herself. The injured party generally did.
“Neal was a fool to look elsewhere when he had a treasure like you right here in his home.”
So he knew that, too, or perhaps had guessed. Still, she had a small measure of pride left. “Don’t say that. You don’t know what happened between us. Neal needed more than I could give him.” Like constant bolstering, daily praise to prop up his low self-esteem and tons of affection to build up his deflated ego. Seeing to his many needs had worn her ragged.
Alex felt a spurt of anger start simmering. “And just what was it that you weren’t able to give him?”
Averting her eyes, Megan shrugged. “Oh, you know.”
“No, I don’t know.” He slid his hands along her forearms, so close to her now that they were toe to toe, so near he could smell the delicate fragrance of her shampoo as a light breeze shifted a lock of her hair. “Tell me.”
She might as well tell him and then maybe he’d back off, go home and stop messing up her head. Taking a deep breath, she met his gaze. “All the things a man needs from a woman—respect, understanding, admiration, affection, unconditional love. You can let go of me because I have nothing to offer you, either.”
“Did he give you all those things? Marriage is a two-way street, I’ve heard.”
“A man doesn’t stray if he’s happy at home. Apparently, Neal didn’t care enough for me to want to stay.”
He hated hearing her defeated tone. “That’s odd because I’ve wanted you almost from the first moment I saw you.” He reached to skim his thumb lazily along her bottom lip, heard her sharp intake of breath. “I want you even more now. And you feel the same.”
Megan did her best to ignore the thrill of anticipation that skittered along her spine. “No,” she lied. “You’re seeing what you want to see, not what is really there.”
He trailed a hand up her back, his fingers stopping
to massage her vulnerable nape. “Tsk, tsk, Megan. You can lie to me, but you shouldn’t lie to yourself.” As if to emphasize his words, he drew her closer.
“You’re trying to convince me that I want you, but it’s not working.” How had her hands wound up against his chest, nervously fidgeting, clutching his shirt?
“Isn’t it?” Against his own, he felt her heart thud, then skip a beat. He almost smiled before he planted a light kiss on the corner of her mouth. Involuntarily, she turned toward the kiss.
Megan shuddered, realizing she was fighting a losing battle here. But she couldn’t back down. “I thought I told you I’m not a physical person. I won’t go to bed with you just to prove that.”
Alex’s eyes narrowed and his hands on her shoulders tightened. “Is that all you think I want? Because if it was, we’d have been wrestling in the sheets long before this, and you damn well know it.” He banked the quick surge of rage at the ex-husband who’d made her doubt herself so much that she’d deny herself the pleasure of her own sensuality.
“If not that, then what is it you want from me?” Sensing his exasperation, knowing she’d inadvertently caused it, gave her the courage to speak up, to be honest. “I’m no match for you in this department, Alex. I can’t swim with the sharks. I’m a small-town girl, and I’ve been with only one man in my entire life. Don’t toy with me. I don’t know how to handle it.”
All anger drained from him. He believed her. “I’m not toying with you.”
She shook her head, feeling lost. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
His hands slid into her hair, his fingers gripping her head and moving it closer to his. “This.” His mouth captured hers as he dragged her against him. He couldn’t seem able to-convince her with words, so he had to use other means. His lips dominated, his hands roamed, his hips ground into hers, his meaning clear. His actions spoke volumes, their message unmistakable: He wanted her.
A frighteningly helpless passion exploded inside Megan as she clung to him, her hands clutching the fabric of his shirt at his back now, holding on to stay upright. She could taste his frustration mingling with her own. She could feel the heat that leaped between the two of them and spread like a wildfire raging out of control.
Shamelessly, she let his aroused body inflame her, her needs moving to a new plateau. How was it that this man could make her feel things she’d scarcely let herself dream of before, feelings that would match her restless dreams, when her husband hadn’t been able to awaken this same kind of desire in her? Could she have been blaming herself when all along Neal had been the lousy lover?
But there was no time to think about the past, no time to ponder, only time to feel. Alex’s hands snaked beneath her loose top and moved around front, touching bare flesh, and this time she let him. When his fingers closed over her breasts, she felt her knees buckle and would have fallen if his strong arms hadn’t held her pressed tightly to his heated body.
Always, Alex had thought of himself as a tender, gentle lover, considerate and slow, never rushing to fulfill his own needs. Yet it had been so very long, and these past few weeks, always close to Megan yet not close enough, had taken their toll. And now, with Megan here in his arms, her mouth wild and frantic on his, demanding more the way he’d dreamed she would, he could only struggle to keep up.
He could feel her straining against him, this woman who would try to deny she wanted him. Beneath his palm, his fingers encircling her soft breasts, her heart did a staccato beat. He slanted his mouth over hers and heard her moan his name while her taste drove him crazy. He could have her now, he knew, right this minute. He could drag her under the big old tree silently waiting to hold the tree house he had yet to finish. Or he could carry her up to his room and take all night to learn every inch of her.
And then what? a small, rational voice inside his head asked.
Because if he followed through, if he took her now even as willing as she was, there would be nothing left between them in the morning. Not friendship or a relationship, not even respect.
Abruptly, he eased his hold on her and took a step back. He gazed into dark blue eyes still hazy with passion and a hint of confusion. I don’t know what you want from me, she’d told him. Small wonder, He didn’t know himself.
Cursing uncharacteristically under his breath, he turned from her, gulping air. He needed some breathing room, some time and space. “I’ve got to go,” he said, his voice thick.
“Yes, so do I.”
Alex ran a shaky hand through his hair. “No, I mean I’ve got to go back. To San Diego. My father needs me at the office.” The lie rolled off his tongue easily. He ground his teeth, wondering when he’d lost all manner of conscience. But he couldn’t keep doing this to her. It was too unfair.
She wouldn’t cry, Megan told herself. Not now, not yet. “Oh, I see. All right.” With trembling hands, she straightened her clothes, smoothed her hair.
Like a man coming off a binge, he took two heavy steps toward the door. “In the morning.”
“Yes, okay. I’ll have your bill ready.” With dry eyes, she watched him go inside, heard the back door click shut. Strolling to the big tree, she leaned against it and gazed up at a half-moon playing hide-and-seek with the clouds.
There’d be plenty of time to cry later, plenty of time to face yet another hard fact—that despite what had just happened between them, Alex, like Neal, didn’t care enough to stay.
At six in the morning when Megan came downstairs, she found two envelopes on the kitchen table. In one, there were ten hundred-dollar bills and a note scribbled on the back of his business card asking her to send him a bill if he’d shorted her. The other envelope was addressed to Ryan.
Walking to the front door, she drew in a bracing breath before swinging it open. Alex’s Porsche wasn’t in the parking lot.
Mixed signals. He’d been sending her mixed signals, Alex admitted to himself as he sat at his desk at Shephard Construction, no more able to concentrate on the work in front of him than he had in Twin Oaks. Because of Megan Delaney.
He’d been back three days and nothing seemed to help. He swiveled in his chair, then rose and walked to the bank of windows. The same sailboats he’d noticed yesterday and the day before were out on the water below, skimming along, the people aboard enjoying the warm May morning. The day after his return, he’d taken the Black Sheep out for a trial run with Mitch. He’d been determined to have a good time, to forget about everything pertaining to the past couple of weeks, to recapture his carefree way of life.
Only it hadn’t worked. He’d held the rudder in his hands, felt the welcome salt spray, turned his face up to a bright California sun. It had been a perfect day for sailing. Mitch had brought along a cooler filled with chicken sandwiches and beer. The same sort of setup they’d enjoyed on many a lazy afternoon in the past.
Yet Alex had been distracted, his mind so occupied with other thoughts that twice Mitch had had to poke him to get his attention. Finally, when they’d reached Catalina Island, they’d thrown a blanket on the sand and Alex had poured out his story.
It wasn’t a pretty one. But then, deception never was.
“Why didn’t you tell her?” Mitch had asked. “I mean, in all that time, surely you had an opportunity.”
“I don’t know,” he’d answered.
“So now that you’ve gotten her bills paid up and even stopped to order a dryer for her, you feel better? You don’t need to go back?”
“I didn’t say that,” he’d answered enigmatically.
Mitch had scrunched up his beer can and tossed it into the trash receptacle, then zeroed in. “Sounds to me like you’re hooked, buddy.”
“What do you mean?” he’d demanded to know.
“You know, as in hook, line and sinker. As in over the top. As in in love with the woman.”
Alex had nearly spilled his own beer hearing that. “You’re crazy. I’m attracted, that’s all. That’s it. She’s a beautiful woman, and I’m a norma
l guy. Who wouldn’t want her? And I’ll even admit that the boy’s terrific. But love? Hey, man, you know that scene’s not for me.” He was certain he’d sounded convincing.
Until he’d looked at his friend.
“Uh-huh,” Mitch had said, eyes narrowed, mouth curled in disbelief. “Well, that’s good. Because love can’t be based on a deception.”
Alex watched the boat with the bright yellow sail nearly topple over in a strong breeze, then finally right itself. After lunch and their disturbing conversation, they’d sailed back to the marina. Mitch had droned on about things at the office and several anecdotes about his family. Alex had half listened, all the while mulling over Mitch’s earlier words.
Love can’t be based on a deception. Of course not. Even if love wasn’t a consideration, friendship couldn’t be based on a lie, either. So what was his relationship with Megan Delaney?
I don’t know what you want from me, she’d said. The way he’d pulled her into the kiss had surely told her that a physical relationship was what he wanted. Yet he’d acted insulted when she’d accused him of wanting only that. He had in fact defended himself vigorously.
How could she know what he wanted when he sent her all those mixed signals? Thrusting his hands deep into the pockets of his slacks, Alex frowned as he gazed out the window. Instead of the calm ocean scene, he saw Megan’s face, those sky blue eyes, that hesitant smile, that wonderful dimple in her chin. He pictured the way she looked when she gazed into her son’s face and the stunned passion reflected in her eyes after he kissed her.
The thing was, Alex thought as he strolled back to his desk, he wasn’t an ambivalent person. From an early age, he’d known what he wanted to do, to be. True, he’d been sidelined by Cynthia, making a young man’s error in believing that she felt as he did, that life was meant to be lived full tilt. No one had been more shocked than him when she’d done a one-eighty and opted for a vine-covered cottage complete with family dog and two-point-five children. He’d chosen to move on rather than compromise.