Can't Forget Him

by West, Cara

  It sounded like a promise to both of them.

  "Your hair," he murmured. "It tangles with the light like satin. Your skin is like velvet."

  He ran a light finger over her forearm.

  She shivered in response.

  "I want to discover the texture of your loveliness."

  "Wh-what," she interrupted breathlessly, "does this have to do with being seen with me?"

  He smiled, suddenly feeling immense satisfaction and great hope for the future. "Because it's time, don't you agree, to get on with the dance."

  CHAPTER SIX

  WHEN NATE AND MEGAN arrived at Sam's, the entire Grant family was still there. Megan hadn't realized when she'd accepted Nate's invitation, instead of Jenny's, that this impromptu celebration had made the A list of family festivities.

  As soon as she and Nate stepped inside, she realized the mistake she'd made in not coming. Or rather, in coming with Nate as an escort, both of them dressed in their evening finery. Everyone fell into stilted silence before rallying to exchange greetings. Megan knew her family too well to mistake the unspoken message. They weren't ready to deal with Nate and Megan as a couple.

  She came to a decision and entwined her hand with Nate's.

  When he gazed down at her as if questioning her strategy, for the merest second it was as if they were alone in the room. She sent him a militant smile. He acknowledged it with a crooked grin, and in a gesture of support invisible to the others, his fingers relaxed and curled into hers.

  "Better late than never," Megan announced to the room at large.

  Risa, her face set in stern lines, stood and went to her father. "Dad needs to get home. He's exhausted." She placed an arm around his shoulders.

  Andrew smiled wanly from his wheelchair, but didn't dispute Risa's assertions.

  Megan realized suddenly how she'd grown to hate that chair. When her father had first come home from the hospital, she'd considered it a godsend, but he should have dispensed with it weeks ago.

  "We wondered where you were," Carol said with more curiosity than anything.

  "Well, now you know." Megan included them all. "Nate and I had a lovely dinner at Chez Michel. Afterward, we decided to drop by for cake and ice cream. Is there any left?" Megan didn't stop for an answer. "And where's the birthday girl?"

  "She got cranky with all the excitement. I put her to bed for everybody's sake." Jenny accompanied her information with the first real smile Megan had seen since their arrival. "There's still cake and ice cream. The cake's right here."

  As Jenny went to serve them, Megan came to the realization that her sister-in-law was the only one who seemed pleased to see them. Megan would give her family this—they were neither stupid nor insensitive. Nate and Megan's clasped hands had told the others all they needed to know. And it was obvious that surprise had turned to disapproval.

  Risa and Larry rose as if to leave.

  "Wait." Megan held up a hand. "Before you go, I have an announcement."

  "Can't you save it for another time?" Risa asked. "Tomorrow's a school day, and I want to make sure Kelly and Evan are in bed at a decent hour."

  "Now's as good a time as any," Megan insisted. "Now that I have you together. It won't take long."

  "If you'd come with Mom and Dad," Sam pointed out, "you could have told us earlier." He paused. "Or did you feel you needed Nate to help with the announcement?"

  Megan absorbed the forbidding tone and turned to face her brother. She met the first overt displeasure anyone had shown. Straightening her back, she held Nate's hand tighter.

  He sought to free himself, and she wasn't sure of his intentions.

  She spoke before he could. "Apparently I do need moral support. None of you seems eager to listen."

  "It's just that it's late," Carol said, playing the appeaser.

  Molly added anxiously, "I don't think your father should have any more excitement."

  Megan moved to her father's chair and addressed him directly. "Don't you want to hear what I have to say, Dad?"

  "I'm not sure, daughter." He looked fretful and distracted as he peered first at Nate and then at Megan.

  "It's nothing terrible," she assured Andrew gently. "I've found the house where I'll be opening my gallery. I've bought it. I thought you'd want to know."

  She faced the rest of her family. "I thought you all would be happy to hear it."

  "I hadn't heard you'd started looking," Risa said, as though Megan ought to have informed her personally.

  "I hadn't looked that much. Sandra's been watching the new listings and found exactly what I wanted."

  "You can't mean to move out of the house, dear." Molly's voice was pinched. "Your father still needs you."

  Megan bit back her initial retort and made herself speak in measured tones. ''It's been two months since his attack, Mom. The way we hover over him must get old after a while."

  Molly wasn't so wrapped up in her own anxiety that she didn't catch Megan's meaning. She looked flustered and chagrined, which distressed Andrew.

  "Your mother's taken wonderful care of me, Megan. But she needs your companionship."

  "Dad, you're the only companion she needs."

  "Yes, but..." He halted awkwardly.

  "I don't think you're living up to your side of our agreement, Dad. Remember the bargain we made in the hospital?"

  "Megan—!"

  "It's okay. Mom. Dad and I understand each other."

  Indeed, a faint spark of humor lit her father's eyes. "I believe I'm receiving a scolding from my youngest."

  "You're right," she replied in dulcet tones.

  "And I'm not sure that's called for this evening." Sam spoke with ominous calm. "I'd much rather you explained this purchase of yours. Why didn't you come to us before making a decision?"

  "You're jumping to conclusions," Nate said, his voice tight with control. "From what Megan's told me, the purchase seems sound."

  Megan stepped between the two men, who both wore formidable expressions. "In fact, I was lucky to find it. And Sandra provided expert counsel."

  "As did Nate, I gather." Sam sent his partner a hard searching gaze.

  "No," Nate said. "I usually wait until I'm asked before I hand out advice."

  "Nate didn't hear about it until this evening," Megan said. "Our dinner was in the way of a celebration."

  "As opposed to a family celebration?" Carol asked.

  Megan glanced around at her nearest and dearest. "I don't see anyone celebrating. Do you?"

  "It's just that you should have consulted one of us." Larry lapsed into his pontifical voice.

  "I don't think Sandra would've let anyone cheat me. Do you think you know better than I do what I want or need?"

  "No. But... well—" Larry sputtered.

  "You've never invested in property before," Sam interrupted impatiently. "We're not questioning your judgment, just your experience."

  "I'm a grown woman. I have more experience than you think."

  "How much down payment did you have to cough up?" Sam went on obstinately. "How long is the mortgage for? Where is this place located? Is it already a gallery, or will you have to remodel?"

  "That's enough, Sam." Something in Nate's tone stopped the other man's bombardment.

  Megan stared at her brother. Sam's questions were legitimate, but his motives were suspect.

  "I don't think," she said finally, "that now is a good time or place—or atmosphere—to go into the particulars."

  "You're the one who wanted to talk," Sam reminded her, after casting an angry glance Nate's way.

  "That's true," Nate said, "but Megan didn't expect an inquisition."

  Sam turned to him. "You—"

  "Look," Megan said loudly. "Perhaps I should have spoken to you first. But when this property came on the market, I had to make a quick decision. It's as simple as that, and I couldn't be happier. I hope when you have a chance to see the house, you'll understand."

  Sam wasn't satisfied with her ex
planation. It was apparent he wasn't happy about a lot of things. For the moment, however, he appeared defeated. Waving a frustrated hand, he left the room.

  "Cake?" Jenny held out two plates, her eyes following her husband as he disappeared through the door.

  "I don't think I'm hungry, after all," Megan said quietly. "Nate, everyone's tired. I think we'd better go."

  "Megan—" Molly's gaze scurried from Megan to Nate and back again "—will you be home soon?"

  "Don't wait up. I have my key." As soon as Megan heard her brusque statement, she wished she could retract it. Yet facing everyone's unsettled expressions, she knew she couldn't back down.

  The family members were willing to grant her adulthood but only according to their conditions. Those conditions didn't include buying expensive property or becoming involved with a certain man.

  She'd had an uneasy feeling ever since that day at Lake Travis that her family might not welcome Nate as her lover. Part of her understood their unease. Part of her was furious. Every one of them, if asked, would have proclaimed their love for Nate. It seemed their love was conditional, as well.

  Nate, like Sam earlier, seemed to be waging a mental battle. Before he could say or do something rash, Megan drew him out the front door.

  Once outside and driving away, they maintained a silence, although Megan realized where they were headed after the first few minutes.

  The top was down on Nate's BMW, and while he concentrated on the road, Megan settled back in her bucket seat, wishing the temperate breezes would cool her intemperate feelings.

  When Nate pulled into his curving driveway, he turned to her. "I thought we could use some privacy."

  "You were right," she said.

  As was his custom, he came around to help her out of the car. Only, unlike his usual sure touch, this time his assistance was tentative.

  As soon as they'd walked into his kitchen and he'd switched on the lights, she could see the tension cutting lines into his face.

  "Coffee?'' he asked. "I can brew cappuccino.''

  "I don't suppose you have chamomile tea?" She smiled, hoping to lighten the atmosphere. "I understand it has tranquilizing properties."

  He searched for an answering smile but couldn't seem to find one. She'd never seen him more somber.

  She was suddenly impatient with her family, with him and with life in general.

  "This is ridiculous," she announced, and marched over to where he stood. She threw her arms around his neck and planted her lips on his, demanding he respond to her, here and now, demanding he wipe the troublesome scene from his mind.

  She caught him totally unguarded.

  Groaning, he opened his mouth to hers. He took her in a death grip that cut off her air. And then he tore himself from her, his hands holding her shoulders.

  For the longest moment, they gazed into each other's eyes, their tortured breathing and emotions tangling together.

  "I'm not sure we should do this," he whispered hoarsely, released her shoulders and stepped back farther.

  She followed.

  He held up his hands to stop her. "I don't want us to act impulsively."

  She let out a disbelieving laugh. "If you wait much longer to kiss me, we'll both be on social security."

  "Disability's more like it," he muttered.

  Turning his back to her, he put his hands on the countertop and leaned forward, hanging his head as though collecting his wits. He might have been trying to escape her attraction. His maneuver, however, left his back unprotected.

  Such a capable back and yet so susceptible. She decided a change in tactics was called for.

  "Nate," she murmured as she moved in close. "Forget my family for the moment."

  "I can't."

  "What we do between us is no one else's business."

  She ran her hands lightly up and down his rib cage. His breath whooshed out and his arms buckled.

  She leaned closer until her breasts brushed the worsted material. She wrapped her arms around him.

  Finding his thudding heartbeat, her fingers slipped between the buttons of his shirt.

  "Nate..."

  "Ahhh, Megan..."

  "Turn around and kiss me."

  "I'm not sure I should."

  "I'll die if you don't."

  With a groan, he twisted in her arms until they were heart to heart. Taking her face between his hands, he stared at her broodingly.

  Slowly, jerkily, his head lowered to hers. Their lips met and clung and absorbed each other's doubts. Then hunger devoured any lingering hesitation.

  He slid his hands through her hair, defining her skull with his fingers, and pressed her open mouth to his. His tongue met hers before delving inside, slipping, sliding, searching out her sensitive places.

  Every place was sensitive to his probing.

  She'd never known a man could taste so good.

  Or feel so good. Plastered against him, she felt his hardening desire.

  He seemed to radiate heat. She could feel her breasts flush with it.

  He abandoned her hair to run his hands down the curve of her back. Everywhere he touched, her skin seemed to yearn for more.

  She groaned with need. He answered with a guttural growl.

  Cupping her buttocks, he rubbed himself against her in a blatant act of desire.

  She rose on her toes and rubbed her breasts against him. The clothing between them frustrated her efforts. Her movements were urgent as she tried to strip away his jacket.

  Stepping back to maneuver, he shrugged off the garment and yanked at his tie.

  Megan worked to undo his buttons. When she found warm flesh, she sighed her pleasure. She ran her tongue over one bare nipple. Tasting, enjoying.

  He jerked with the contact. "Oh, damn," he breathed. "You don't know what you're doing to me."

  "I have a pretty good idea," she whispered against his skin.

  "I don't," he gasped. "Megan, slow down—"

  "Touch me," she commanded, ignoring his pleading.

  He ran his hands up her back.

  "No," she breathed. "Yes. More—I want more."

  He stilled for a moment before one of his hands made its way around her rib cage.

  "Yes." She arched her breasts higher.

  "Is this what you want?" He gently raked a fingernail over one taut nipple.

  The sensation through the silk made her almost buckle in his arms.

  She started to shrug off the straps of her dress, desperate for him to cup her bare breast.

  He stopped her by picking her up and swinging her around until she was perched on the counter. Spreading her legs, he pressed his hips between them. With the layer of silk still a barrier, he took the other nipple into his mouth.

  The heat and moisture of his kiss made her moan with pleasure. Heat and moisture gathered at the junction of her thighs.

  He nipped at her through the thin material, before sucking at her greedily. The sensations he created shattered her remnants of restraint.

  This was Nate, the man she'd dreamed of endlessly. His body, his need, his desire inflaming her.

  She spread her legs wider and rocked against his erection. The heat between her legs was a torturous throb. All thoughts deserted her. She was mindless in her need. She was climbing higher, faster, than she ever had before.

  As his hands slid along the tops of her thighs, their faint tremble betrayed the perilous control he had on his passion. When he discovered the skin between her stockings and panties, his fingers lingered.

  "Like satin," he murmured.

  "Don't stop," she begged, her body engrossed in its quickening rhythms. She yearned for him, ached for him. Pressure built inside her. "Don't stop," she begged again, holding his face to her breast.

  His fingers reached the hem of her panties and slipped inside. Delving through her nest of hair, he found what he was seeking.

  Within seconds she went up in smoke, pulsing over and over and around his touch. She could no more have c
ontrolled her climax than she could have stopped breathing. She heard her moans of satisfaction as they echoed through the room. By the time she came to rest, she was draped around his shoulders.

  Immediately she reached down to locate his zipper.

  "No." He backed away, retrieving his hand from its intimate resting place.

  "What do you mean, no?" she muttered, trying to caress his swollen penis.

  He grabbed her hands and held them away from him. "We're not going to do this on the kitchen counter."

  She slipped from her perch. "Fine. Let's go to bed."

  "Megan..." He took a couple of deep breaths and leaned his forehead against hers, still keeping her hands from the prize they were seeking. "I don't think we're ready to make love."

  "What do you call what you just did?" she asked, dazed. "You made me come and—"

  "Things got out of hand. You were—" he seemed to search for a word "—aroused. I didn't want to leave you frustrated."

  Hurt rose in her. "So instead, you're rejecting me?"

  "No, no, sweet Megan." He brushed her lips gently. "Of course I'm not rejecting you."

  But she wouldn't be mollified. "That's how it feels from here. Besides, I'm not the only one aroused. What do you call that ridge in your trousers?"

  "I can handle it," he said doggedly.

  "But why should you try? Look. You unfrustrated me, as you call it. I'd like to return the favor." She sent him her sexiest smile.

  "It's not that simple."

  Her patience vanished. "The hell it's not."

  "Megan, please. This is only our first date."

  Her mouth gaped open. She was stunned by his reasoning.

  "This isn't the 1950s," she said. "And we've known each other all our lives."

  "That's just it. We've known each other, but not like this."

  "You're not still hung up on this brother/sister thing, are you?"

  He gave a short laugh. "No, I don't consider this an incestuous relationship. But I'd like to remind you that your brother is pissed as hell." Nate's expression became bleak. "I need to talk to him, help him understand. But I'll have to choose the right time and place to do it."