by West, Cara
Megan's laughter cracked into a million pieces. "I— I don't feel very wise right now."
Andrew stroked her hair. "Don't be afraid because you came to me. No one else has dared."
"I know. That's why I had to."
"You always were a brave one." As he blinked back tears, he reached for one of her hands.
"Oh, Dad, you mustn't ever think you have nothing to offer."
His expression flickered and he repeated an earlier question. "How did you know I was angry with myself?"
"Nate and I talked about it. He helped me understand—"
"Nate. I see." Right before her eyes Andrew's features congealed. "I didn't realize you were in the habit of discussing me with him." His voice again sounded fretful and querulous.
Megan jumped up. "Why shouldn't we discuss you? He cares about you very much."
"I'm not sure I believe that."
"You refuse to, you mean." Her voice was angry now.
Andrew looked away as if he didn't want to deal with her reactions. "He's been like a son to me. I feel betrayed."
"It looks to me like the other way around!" She practically shouted the accusation.
"Megan—! Don't talk to your father that way." Molly rushed into the room, her face etched with horror. "Andrew, are you okay?" She pressed her hands into his shoulders.
"It's all right, Molly," Andrew hastened to assure her, his stormy expression clearing magically.
"Megan—" he nodded her way, obviously eager to leave behind the topic "—I think now would be a good time to tell your mother what you told me. And I want you to know beforehand, Molly, that I agree with her decision."
Megan felt torn between frustration and elation. She'd accomplished part of what she'd hoped to. "Mom, I'm moving in above the gallery today.''
"Today?" Molly exclaimed. "Without even discussing it?"
"Dad and I have discussed it."
"At the top of your lungs?" Molly turned toward her husband. "It sounded like you were fighting."
"Not about her moving out," Andrew said evasively.
"But you don't even have a bed." Molly said this to Megan. "What are you going to do? Sleep on the floor?"
"I bought a bed the other day. It was delivered this morning. Please don't worry about me. I'll be okay."
She hurried on, not wanting to prolong the farewells. "You have the phone number for the gallery. If you need me, call. I'll be here in a minute. Later I'll come by to get my other things."
Molly couldn't seem to think of how to respond, and Megan wasn't surprised when she fell back on her maternal instincts. "I have extra furniture—you didn't have to buy any. You could have used your bedroom suite. Why didn't you ask?"
Megan sighed. "I didn't think you'd understand. That's why I waited to break the news to you."
"I don't understand."
"Then let's not talk about it anymore, not right now." She took her mother's hand and squeezed it. "Maybe later... you can help me pick out some furniture."
"Oh... okay. Let's... let's do it soon."
"Mom, Dad..." Megan made a ceremony of hugging each of them. "I'll see you later." She waved a goodbye.
"I'll walk you to the car." Molly followed her out of the room. As soon as they were alone, Molly asked in a low voice, "Were you and Andrew arguing about Nate?"
Trying to maintain her composure, Megan picked up her suitcases and went outside without answering.
But Molly wouldn't let it be. "Did Nate suggest this move?" She continued close behind Megan.
Megan whirled around, sending her mother a step back. "No. But what if he had?"
"Andrew and Sam are very upset about your going out with him. There's such a difference in your ages. And all those other women..."
Megan's chest constricted. "Do you agree with Sam and Dad?"
"No, honey." Molly reached out a supplicating hand. "I realize how you've felt about him."
"And now he feels the same about me. Mother, is that wrong?"
"No..."
"Then why—" Megan's voice exposed her resentment at Molly's defection "—won't you stand up for him?"
"I don't want to cross your father."
"But what about Nate? He's the one who's been betrayed. He thought you all loved him."
"We do, Megan. We do."
Megan turned away. "You have a funny way of showing it."
"Megan, please, think of Andrew's condition."
"I'm thinking about Nate. Somebody has to." Shaking her head, Megan turned and went to her car.
When she backed out of the drive, Molly still stood by a crape myrtle, her face a mask of misery. Megan had never felt so alienated from her mother.
She felt alienated from her entire family. That was bad enough, but she also felt out of touch with Nate. Their relationship wasn't proceeding as she'd envisioned it. And she was torn between dissatisfaction, exasperation, delight and dismay.
Nate had showered her with flowers and candy, even going so far as to buy her a cotton-candy machine, remembering how she'd always loved the confection.
He'd sent her roses, yes and a golden harvest of chrysanthemums tied up in satin ribbons. He'd also sent her lilacs. Lilacs in Austin? In the fall no less.
He'd taken her to elegant restaurants and intimate cafes and some of Austin's hottest night spots. He'd also taken her to the symphony where he had season tickets. And on every date he handled her with gentlemanly care—his hand reaching out to assist her from the car, his palm at her back guiding her up the stairs, his arm lightly around her shoulder while they watched a movie.
Still, every date ended with a chaste, infuriating kiss. Not once, since the session in his kitchen had they come close to making love. In fact, she noticed they hadn't been to his home again.
And she knew who was to blame. Her meddling family. She didn't know if Sam and Nate had talked, but it was obvious nothing had been resolved.
Sometimes, when he didn't think she noticed, Nate seemed to drift into a somber reverie. She'd come to expect that reverie. Even so, it made her sad.
Other times she caught him watching her with intense wanting and need, and she wondered how long they could maintain this restrained courtship. He seemed to be waiting for a sign—but a sign of what?
The truth was, she was irritated and frustrated and in the mood for a showdown similar to the one she'd had with her father.
In fact, she was heading to Nate's offices right this minute. He'd said he had to work late. She'd see about that.
NATE TOOK a steadying breath before knocking on Sam's door. When he'd seen Sam's car still in its parking slot, he'd known his opportunity had come.
Sam had avoided being alone with his partner. The office grapevine was humming with the obvious rift. Nate knew the situation couldn't continue. He and Sam had to sort out their differences. Sam needed to know his intentions toward Megan once and for all.
"Come in," Sam called.
Nate opened the door.
As soon as Sam saw who it was, he rose from his desk to leave, barely taking the time to turn off his computer.
"Sam, I want to talk to you."
"Not now." Sam shook his head. "Jenny's got dinner waiting."
"Jenny will understand if you're late." Nate kept an even tone. Getting angry with Sam would do neither any good.
"Will she?" Sam folded his arms, not bothering with politeness. "Oh, yes, I forgot, you're the authority on women.''
Before Nate could reply, Sam fired another question. "Is this about business?"
"No."
"Then I'd rather we didn't talk."
"We have to talk, Sam. We've been avoiding it too long. For what it's worth, I know how you feel.''
"Do you?" Sam asked coolly.
"You're protective of Megan. I am, too."
"I don't think you are. I did once upon a time. But not anymore."
"Damn it, Sam. I care for her as much as you do. All those years I practically thought of her as my sister.*'
Sam's look turned ferocious. "Then why the hell did you change? Why couldn't you have kept your hands off her? Do you want to know how I feel? Is this what you've come for? Well, I'll tell you. I think the whole thing's perverted."
Nate held on to his temper—just barely. "I worried about that at first. But not anymore. We're not brother and sister, and Megan's never thought so. All those years, I was blind to her feelings. She had a thing for me before she left."
"A goddamn crush! She was just a teenager. And now you've taken advantage of her affection."
"Megan's no longer a teenager. You give her too little credit."
"No. Just granting the devil his due. My God, if I'd only known who it was you were circling. You probably had her in bed before she knew what hit her."
"I haven't touched her." Nate felt the blood pounding m his temples. He took a deep breath in an effort to stay calm.
"Well, that's a new one. Are you actually asking me to believe that?"
"Yes." Nate spit out the word.
Sam's answering laughter was mocking. "For twenty years I've watched you operate, partner. You've never wanted anything from a woman but a roll in the hay. And a decorative escort."
Nate's anger roiled inside him. He controlled the urge to lunge for Sam's throat. "Sam, I'm not going to deny what you're saying. I can't erase my past from either of our minds. I'm trying to tell you that Megan is different."
"But you're not. You're the same old Nate. I thought... I thought your loyalty to the family was stronger."
"It is. Don't you see? I'm in love with her, Sam. I want to marry her—eventually. When Andrew is better."
Sam's face turned into granite. "I'll see you in hell first."
Nate stepped back as if from a physical blow.
Sam made the most of his advantage. "You're too old for her, damn it. She's just beginning her life. There's fourteen years difference in your ages. And you've screwed so many women it's a wonder you can still get it up."
"Sam, don't. This isn't what I wanted."
"Well, this is what you're getting. Like it or not."
"I love Megan. You have to believe me."
"You don't know what the hell love is."
"I'm learning with Megan." Nate had begun to grow numb, yet something inside made him keep trying. "For the first time I want a committed relationship. The sex can come later when she's sure of how she feels. I'm courting her, Sam. I've never courted a woman. I'm doing it for you. You and the family. To show you my intentions are honorable."
"The family isn't interested. My father feels betrayed. And I think you've used us."
Nate took another step back. "Sam, how can you say that? I owe your family everything."
"Then repay us by getting out of Megan's life."
Nate made a low-pitched sound he was barely aware of. His anger had burned out to be replaced with despair. "I don't think I can do that—partner."
"Then—maybe, partner, you'd better get out of mine."
STANDING OUTSIDE the door, Megan had heard enough. When she'd first arrived, the sounds coming from Sam's office had temporarily stunned her, but now her outrage propelled her like a rocket. She'd never been so furious—with Sam or Nate.
"Stop it right now," she demanded as she barreled into the room. She halted between the two men, who now stood in grim silence.
"How long have you been here?" Nate asked in astonishment.
"Long enough to hear you both make asses of yourselves." She faced Sam. "How dare you presume to judge Nate or me? How dare you insult him? And how dare you think so little of my intelligence or maturity? I am not some simpering love-struck fool."
"This has nothing to do with you." Sam reached for her arm to ease her to one side.
She was having none of it and shook him off violently. "It has everything to do with me," she growled with rage. "And nothing to do with you, do you hear, Sam Grant? Whether I go to bed with Nate or not is none of your business."
"Megan, please." From behind her, Nate caught hold of her shoulders.
"Leave me alone." She shook him off, too. Pointing her finger at Sam, she spoke with deadly calm. "I've never been more angry with you in my life. Or more ashamed that you're my brother. If you ever presume to interfere again—"
"But he came to me.*' Sam waved in Nate's direction, his look mutinous.
"I'll get to him later," she promised. "I'm still not finished with you."
She took a deep breath. "I don't have to explain a damn thing to you. But I'll tell you this. Nate has been everything to me since I've come home. My friend, my companion, my shoulder to cry on. I've gone to him when I couldn't go to anyone else."
"Yeah, I'll just bet." Sam's face grew dark.
"That's right," Megan said. "Try to make something sordid of it. That way you can deny what Nate has meant to all of us. Everything he's done for us."
Sam shrugged. Yet for the first time, his expression held guilt.
"Talk about loyalty," Megan continued. "You don't know the meaning of it. Nate has done everything you've ever asked him. He's been the brother you didn't have. He's made you a ton of money."
"My patents had something to do with it."
"Without his business sense you would've sold those designs to another company and you know it. He set up the firm. He represented your designs to the people who counted. He kept you in control of their production. He set up the manufacturing division."
"So what's your point?" Sam asked brusquely.
"You've used him," she accused. "The family's used him. Like lords of the manor we've thought of him as our vassal."
"Megan..." Nate said, obviously unnerved.
She still wouldn't let him speak. "But let Nate forget his place and decide to pay court to the darling daughter, and the Grants repay him by kicking him in the teeth."
Neither man responded. Megan's charges seemed to echo around them.
"Let's go," she said abruptly, grabbing Nate's arm. She didn't owe Sam another minute of her time or energy. She also didn't mean to deal with Nate in front of her brother. What she and Nate had to discuss was just between the two of them.
They walked to her car in silence.
"Where are we going?" he asked in a tone that sounded as if it didn't matter.
Megan glanced his way and saw his features were blank. He resembled a man who'd just gone down for the count.
"You'll see in a minute," she said.
No further words were spoken until she pulled up in the gallery driveway.
"Come in," she instructed.
When he hesitated, she repeated, "Come in. I told you I had a few things to say."
Acquiescing, he followed her along the walk and through the entrance to the patio.
She unlocked the door, went inside and began to climb the stairs.
"Megan—?" he called up to her.
"Follow me."
"Where are you going?"
She didn't answer.
"Megan? Why can't we talk down here?" When no response was forthcoming, he muttered, "Damn."
A second later she heard his footsteps behind her.
She'd won the first skirmish. But she had a much bigger battle in mind. Hardly pausing at the second floor, Megan took the winding stairway up to her private quarters. She knew exactly what she was going to do.
Without lingering in the garden patio, she went inside and chose a position in front of the west window. The fading light of day elongated the shadow of her body across the floor. Nightfall was creeping over the rest of the suite, creating patterns cast in muted shades of gray.
The one item that hadn't been drained of color by the twilight was a bright red quilted spread. It was draped over the bed that sat in lonely splendor in the center of the room.
Nate stopped in the doorway and looked around. After an appreciative sniff, he observed lightly, "So this is where my lilacs ended up."
She gestured toward the fireplace mantel where she'd arranged the flowers in
a vase. "I thought they made a welcome addition."
He smiled, although the expression was brittle. "It looks to me like you're still short a few items."
"Oh, I don't know," she drawled. "I have the one necessary furnishing." She waved at the bed.
His gaze brushed it, refusing to linger. "What did you want to tell me?" His tone was bald. "No, wait." He held up a delaying palm. "I have something to say to you first. I'm sorry you had to hear Sam's and my..." He struggled for a word.
"Argument?" she supplied.
He shrugged. "I wouldn't have even spoken to Sam if I'd thought there was a chance you'd be around to hear us."
"Are those the first words you and Sam have had on the subject?"
"Yes. He's been avoiding me. Now I understand why.''
"Well, I'm glad I did eavesdrop. Otherwise I never would have figured out what was going on. I had no idea the family was dictating the course of our relationship."
"I didn't say that."
"Of course you did. Mighty powerful, we Grants. We can have you do our bidding without even telling you what it is."
He turned away from her and went to stare out another window. "I don't think this whole thing should be reduced to simple sarcasm."
"What do you think it should be reduced to?"
"Respect. And loyalty." At her expression he went on doggedly, "Yes, loyalty. No matter what Sam said."
"Right now we're not talking about what Sam said to you. I'm just as angry about what you told Sam."
"What?" Nate was obviously puzzled.
"You went to great lengths to assure Sam your intentions were honorable. You told him the sex can wait until I'm sure of my feelings."
Sizing up his reaction to this statement, she put her battle plan in motion. "It was all very well to discuss me with Sam. But when do I get to participate in the discussion? Don't I have a role here?"
She thought he was maybe catching on. But he still hadn't grasped her ultimate intention.
"Of course you do," he began in a reasonable tone. "And I can understand your being upset that I didn't declare my intentions to you first. I'm sorry about the way I handled it. But I felt I owed Sam an explanation."