by Sherri Hayes
With extra care, Megan tiptoed up the stairs so she didn’t disturb them. She should have known better than to think she could pass by the bathroom undetected. Paul glanced up, and Megan paused, waiting. For what, she didn’t know. Their gazes held, and his forehead furrowed in concentration.
Her heart began to pound. Did he remember?
Chloe squealed, breaking their connection. He averted his gaze back to his daughter, and Megan took the opportunity to make her escape.
Once inside her room, Megan closed and locked the door. She rushed over to her bed and dumped out the contents of her bags. Putting everything away except for the three new pajamas, she considered her options.
The first one had a cute little T-shirt type of top and boxer short bottoms. They were blue with bunny rabbits all over them. She remembered the way Paul went right for her legs, which was why she’d gone for all shorts-type selections.
Her second pajama set was more grown-up looking than she normally went for, but she wanted to be prepared for anything. Megan had no idea what Paul liked. It was lavender and had a spaghetti-strap top that dipped low. She didn’t have a lot up top, not really, but she wasn’t flat either. The bottoms that came with the outfit were much shorter than the others.
Megan picked up the last outfit. The bottoms were pink, with little red and white hearts—most likely left over from Valentine’s Day. It was paired with a simple light pink tank top. She’d liked it as soon as she saw it. Megan only hoped Paul didn’t think it was too much, with the hearts and all.
Deciding to take a chance, Megan put on the tank top and heart shorts. Aside from the hearts, it wasn’t all that unlike what she normally wore to bed. She was hoping that while he’d notice, he wouldn’t immediately become suspicious. He was a cop, after all.
After taking a look in the mirror, Megan opened her bedroom door, and peeked out into the hallway just in time to see Chloe barreling toward her. Megan bent down to brace herself for impact. Even then, she had to put a hand down on the floor to keep from falling backward.
“Are you going to help Daddy read me a bedtime story?”
“I can, if you want me to.”
Chloe nodded, took hold of Megan’s hand, and led her down the hall to her room, leaving Paul to follow. Megan glanced over her shoulder, and found Paul smiling. She smiled back. This was the Paul she knew—the one who loved his daughter above all else.
Inside her bedroom, Chloe released Megan’s hand and walked over to her bookshelf. She selected the book she wanted and then climbed into her bed. Paul sat down on one side of Chloe, and Megan on the other. They each took turns reading a page until the little girl was yawning and rubbing her eyes.
Paul closed the book, and Chloe started to whine.
“Time for bed.”
“But, Daddy . . .”
He didn’t say anything, but his look spoke volumes. Chloe lowered her eyes and huffed a little, before lying down and closing her eyes.
Paul leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “Good night, sweetpea.”
Chloe kept her eyes closed tight. “Good night, Daddy.”
Megan followed suit, giving Chloe a kiss on the forehead, and saying good night.
The little girl yawned. “G’night, Meg-an.”
Megan smiled and ambled out of the room with Paul. She was so caught up in the bedtime ritual they’d taken part in that she was completely caught off guard when Paul reached out, stopping her from continuing.
“Could we talk?”
She met his gaze, and her heart began to race. It wasn’t what she saw in his eyes, it was what she didn’t. He had what she called his “cop face” on. His expression was devoid of emotion, and he looked as if he were gearing up for a battle of some sort. Was that because he’d remembered what had happened between them? Megan didn’t know, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to find out.
Unfortunately, running wouldn’t help her cause, so she answered in the only way she could. “Sure.”
He nodded and turned abruptly toward the stairs. She followed him to the kitchen.
Paul didn’t sit down, so Megan didn’t either. Instead, she stood right inside the doorway with her back against the wall. She might even have lifted her leg a little and arched her back, to make her chest stick out a bit more.
He strolled over to the far side of the room and leaned back against the counter, facing her. For the longest time, he didn’t say anything, and neither did Megan. She was tempted, but she wanted to find out what he’d say first.
After a long, drawn-out silence, Paul cleared his throat. “I wanted to talk to you about last night.”
Megan nodded, afraid that if she spoke, she’d give something away.
Paul took a deep breath and looked her in the eye. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”
She paled. “You’re sorry?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
Megan felt sick to her stomach, and she saw something flash across his face before he schooled his features. “You remembered?”
Paul shook his head. “No. And I’m sorry about that, too. I can’t tell you the last time I blacked out like that from drinking too much. It shouldn’t have happened, and I’m sorry.”
The churning in Megan’s belly subsided a little, but anxiety rapidly took up residence. “So you don’t remember what happened?”
She said it more to herself than to him, but he answered her anyway. “No.”
Megan swallowed and pushed herself off the wall, walking toward him. He watched her with an eagle eye. She knew he was wondering what she was doing, and to be honest, she was wondering the same thing herself.
When she came to a stop in front of him, she stood closer than they’d ever been before, with only one exception. He looked down at her, and she hoped he liked the view that included a nice display of the tops of her breasts. Just thinking about Paul and her breasts together brought back the memory of his hands and mouth on them. Her body heated at the memory.
Licking her lips, she searched his eyes for any recollection. “You kissed me.”
His eyes grew wide with shock, and he tensed. Other than that, he didn’t react in any way to her bombshell.
Megan decided to push the envelope a little by filling in the gaps for him. She wanted to touch Paul, but she was afraid it would spook him. “I heard a noise, so I went to check on you. You’d bumped into the dresser, and almost knocked the television over, so I helped you to the bed.”
The vein in his throat pulsed rapidly, but he remained silent.
“You don’t remember any of this?”
“No.” It sounded as if it were a struggle for him to say that one word.
She sighed and reached up to touch his face. Paul leaned back, evading her hand. Megan tried to hide how much that hurt, but she knew he saw it anyway.
Before she could regain her equilibrium, Paul sidestepped her, putting some distance between them. She wanted to grab hold of his arm, and pull him back to her, but she didn’t. It would have been too much to ask for him to take her in his arms and pick up where they’d left off.
He’d kissed her? That was impossible. But even as that thought crossed his mind, Paul knew she was telling the truth. Once again, the sight of Megan perched above him filled his mind. This time, it took on a whole new context.
Megan wasn’t lying.
Paul flexed his fingers, unsure what to do with himself. He was in uncharted territory. This wasn’t like the woman he’d picked up in that club four years ago. He knew Megan. She lived in his house, for crying out loud. It wasn’t as if he could up and leave.
Chancing a look at Megan, he could see the hurt in her eyes. He could tell she was trying to hide it, but she wasn’t doing a very good job. He felt like a cad. She’d said he’d kissed her, not the other way around. He’d initiated the kiss. He’d changed things between them. It was his fault.
He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath before opening them again. Megan looked so small as she stood there
in his kitchen in her shorts and tank top. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, as he knew what he said next would hurt her. It was the last thing he wanted, but he knew it needed to be done. He still loved his wife—would always love his wife. There was no future for him with anyone else.
“I was out of line. I’m sorry.” He paused. “I still love my wife, Megan. Nothing can happen between the two of us.”
She was quiet for several seconds, and then he saw her press her lips together and straighten her shoulders. “Why?”
Paul looked at her with slight disbelief. “Did you miss the part about me still loving my wife?”
“No. I didn’t miss it. I know you still love Melissa.”
Hearing his wife’s name twisted the knife that seemed to be permanently lodged in his gut.
When he didn’t add anything, she continued. “Why does that mean nothing can happen between us? Don’t you think she’d want you to move on? Find someone else?”
“I can’t.” Paul met Megan’s gaze and shook his head. “I’m sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am, but I just can’t.”
Without giving Megan time to respond, Paul said good night, and bounded up the stairs. He was running away, he knew that, but it was either that or break down in front of her—and to Paul, that would have been worse. Talking about Melissa to Chloe was one thing. Discussing her with Megan was something altogether different. Paul didn’t want to think about why that was, exactly. He knew he might find answers he didn’t want to know.
Paul woke up the next morning feeling as if he hadn’t slept at all. It had taken him hours of tossing and turning before he’d finally drifted off, and then when he did, he was tortured by images of Melissa and Megan. In one dream, he’d been lying in bed with his wife, talking . . . kissing. It was a pleasant dream, and one he had often.
But as he leaned in to give Melissa a kiss, the dream changed and it was no longer Melissa in front of him. It was Megan. He’d woken with a start, panting, and stiff as a board.
Sleep was impossible after that.
The smell of coffee filled the kitchen as Paul pulled Melissa’s mug out of the cabinet. He’d found it in the dishwasher the day after her funeral, and he’d been using it ever since for his morning cup of coffee. It made him feel close to her somehow, as if a part of her was still with him when he started his day.
Before his wife died, Paul always drank his coffee black. He figured if he was going to drink the caffeinated beverage then it shouldn’t be doctored to make it taste like something else. That was before, though.
Paul opened the refrigerator and removed the milk, setting it on the counter. Once the coffee pot stopped percolating, he filled his glass three quarters of the way, and then topped it off with milk—just like Melissa used to drink it.
After putting the milk away, Paul sat down at the kitchen table and picked up the morning paper he’d snatched from the driveway as soon as he came downstairs. This was his routine, and routines were good. Unfortunately, Paul couldn’t focus on the words in front of him. It was as if he were reading some foreign language instead of English.
Frustrated, he tossed the paper down on the table, and massaged his temples. What was happening to him?
The sound of footsteps on the stairs caused him to glance up. Seconds later, Megan appeared. She was still wearing her pajamas from the night before. The bottoms only covered about a quarter of her leg, which meant there was plenty left over for him to see. Megan wasn’t tall, but her legs were long, and for a moment, Paul wondered what it would feel like to have them wrapped around his hips.
Startled by the direction of his thoughts, Paul shot up out of his chair and nearly spilled what was left of his coffee.
“You okay?”
Paul noted the concern in her voice. Unfortunately that wasn’t helping whatever it was that seemed to be happening to him. To them. No, to him. There was no them. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
She looked at him intently for a long moment, and then strolled past him to the counter to get herself some coffee. Paul clenched his eyes closed, and forced himself to breathe. He needed to get out of there.
Clearing his throat, he turned to face her, but she had her back to him. Unfortunately, that gave him a clear view of her backside. He averted his eyes quickly as his body began to betray him. “I’m going to head to work early this morning to catch up on some paperwork.”
Megan turned around, holding her coffee against her chest. His eyes narrowed in on her breasts. “All right.”
He knew he needed to go—get out of there, but his feet refused to move.
“Paul?”
“Yes?”
She laid her cup down on the counter, and stalked toward him. Okay, maybe stalked was too strong a word, but that was how he felt at the moment. His feet were glued to the floor by some unknown force, and she was walking toward him. His brain was telling him to run as fast as he could in the opposite direction, but his limbs weren’t cooperating.
Megan came to a stop in front of him. Without pause, she placed her right hand in the center of his chest, and met his gaze. “Why are you running away from me?”
He swallowed. “I’m not.”
By the look in her eyes, she knew he was lying. “Yes, you are.”
“Megan . . .”
“Paul.”
Wrapping his fingers around her wrist, he removed her hand from his chest, and took a step back. “I told you last night that this couldn’t happen, and I meant it.”
“I’m not agreeing to that.” He could hear the stubborn determination in her voice.
“You’re going to have to.”
“Why? Give me one good reason why this can’t happen.”
Her eyes were fierce. He could see the fight in her. “I’m still in love with my wife. I can’t . . . I can’t give you anything.”
Megan’s eyes softened a little. “I know you still love Melissa.”
“Good. Then you understand why nothing can happen between us.”
She stepped closer, eating up the space he’d put between them. “No. I don’t. Why does that mean you can’t give me anything?”
Megan leaned forward, brushing her breasts against his chest, causing him to suck in a breath. “What are you doing?”
“Proving a point.”
“Which is?”
She looked up at him. “You want me, Paul Daniels, whether you want to admit it or not.”
Before he could respond, Megan leaned back, gave him a coy smile, and slid around him. She disappeared up the stairs, leaving him dumbfounded. He didn’t want another relationship. Not with Megan. Not with any woman.
He did want her, though. She was right about that. Or at least, his body did. The evidence was visible if anyone happened to walk into the kitchen at that moment.
But it didn’t change anything.
Leaning his head back against the wall, Paul took several deep breaths until he felt his body was back under control. Work. That was what he needed to take his mind off Megan and whatever was happening between them. There was a serial killer out there, and he knew from experience that whoever it was wouldn’t stop until they were caught.
Before his thoughts were invaded once again by Megan, Paul raced up the stairs to get ready for work. Megan was young. She probably just had a crush on him or something. It would pass.
He repeated that mantra all the way to the station, trying to convince himself that it was true. Paul didn’t want to think about what it would mean if it wasn’t. Megan lived in his house, and he hadn’t been with a woman in nearly five years. He didn’t know how long he’d be able to resist her temptations. Paul didn’t want to hurt her. He cared about Megan, but he also knew he could never give her anything more than his body, and she deserved so much more than that.
Chapter 6
Paul breathed a sigh of relief when he entered the station. People were milling around, going about their tasks even at the early hour. It was familiar. Safe.
He bris
tled. Safe. Since when had that become what was most important to him? He used to be willing to take risks. Used to do it all the time for his job. How many people had told him and Melissa that they would never last, yet they’d been married for more than ten years when that drunk driver ran her off the road. More than that, they’d been happily married. With a newborn baby.
Chloe had changed things for them, but not in a bad way. They’d cherished the little girl who had blessed their lives. Melissa had difficulties getting pregnant, but after five years of trying, they’d brought a beautiful baby girl into the world. Unfortunately, Melissa had only been part of Chloe’s life for six months before she was taken away from both of them.
Thinking about Chloe brought him back to Megan. As he sat down at his desk, Paul replayed the conversation he’d had with his daughter’s nanny. He’d had women come on to him over the years—more so since becoming a widower—but none of them had sparked anything in him. This morning was different. There had been a spark, and he wouldn’t lie to himself. It scared him on a deep and primal level.
After Megan sauntered out of the kitchen, it had taken a good ten minutes for his erection to go down. No woman had done that to him with such ease since Melissa. She used to be able to look at him, and he’d be up for whatever she had in mind.
“You’re here early.”
Paul looked up as his partner slid into the desk across from him. “I wanted to go over the new files.”
Janey glanced down at his desk and raised one eyebrow. “Were you expecting those files to magically appear in front of you?”
He shrugged and reached for the stack of folders on the corner of his desk. “Very funny, Davis.”
Leaning back, she gave him a once-over. “Something happen at your brother’s wedding I should know about?”
“It was a wedding.” He tried to concentrate on the report in front of him.
“That doesn’t mean nothing happened.”
Paul continued to look down at the files as if they held all the secrets in the universe.
When he didn’t elaborate, Janey sighed. “You’re sure?”