False Start (The McKay-Tucker Men Series Book 1)

by Marianne Rice

  Huffing out a frustrated sigh, she peeked through the last rack of lingerie when she saw it. Emerald green, pure silk, and the most beautiful, yet sexy, piece of…sexiness she’d never imagine wearing. She rushed off to the fitting room and tried it on. The thin straps showed off her long neck and strong shoulders. An alluring V-neck dipped to the middle of her small, still perky breasts, and the shimmering material kept flowing all the way to her feet. The seductively high slit in the left side showed all of her leg, thigh, and underwear. Sophisticated and sexy. Perfect. What would she do when Connor saw her in the thin silk? Faint. Definitely. But, hopefully, so would he.

  * * * *

  Something was up. He didn’t know what, but their recent conversations didn’t feel right. Meg avoided him, more than the usual playing elusive. She blew him off this weekend. Granted her girlfriend Tracy had come to town, but why wouldn’t she want him to meet her? Girls did that, showed off their boyfriends. She was playing coy with him lately, not giving him eye contact and being unusually quiet on their dates. Even their kisses were reserved. He’d proven more self-control in the past month than he ever thought manageable. Hell, he should be sainted with the restraint he’d held on to lately. The constant cold showers helped a little, but this backward progress didn’t make him feel too confident.

  He canceled the Saturday night poker game figuring he’d be with Meg, but here he was, sitting by himself in his cold, dark house. He could have lit a fire, but it didn’t have the same allure when he wasn’t cozying up in front of it with Meg. He could have made some dinner, but eating alone sounded depressing. Angry with himself for acting like a girl, he decided to be a man and march over to her house and demand to spend time her. Playing the macho card never got him very far with her, but at least he’d be able to see her and meet her friend Tracy. Hell, maybe he’d catch them wearing sexy lingerie and having a pillow fight while jumping on her bed.

  A man could dream.

  Connor pulled a Red Sox hat over his head and yanked his coat out of the closet. The truck didn’t warm up until he pulled into Meg’s driveway, but the thought of kissing her made him plenty warm. Yup, he had turned into a pathetic girl. The lights were on. A girly car with New York license plates parked crookedly in the driveway. He jogged up the short walkway, anxious to see Meg’s face, and rang the doorbell. A minute went by with no response so he rang again. A man’s voice called from inside.

  The door opened to a nearly naked man, dripping wet. He grinned at Connor. “Hi, what can I do for you?”

  Connor stood speechless staring at the man who was obviously getting further with Meg than he ever had. He’d never been around her with his shirt off, and he sure as hell had never seen her half naked, only in his dreams. Anger and disgust ran through his body. He let her lead him on for months claiming to be the abused, somewhat virgin who needed to hold on to her private life, yet here she was entertaining a naked man in her house. And where was she? Probably still in the shower that he left or maybe keeping the bed warm while her naked friend answered the door.

  Inner rage burned within as flashes of Amy and her boy toy of the month flashed through his head. Not again. Hell would freeze over before he let another woman walk all over him. Been there. Done that.

  “Wrong house,” he said and he stormed off.

  * * * *

  The last place she wanted to be was at Martha’s having a Friday after-school-drink with her colleagues; she wanted alone time with Connor, but Annie begged and pleaded with Meg, telling her she looked like she needed a strong drink and a few laughs with girlfriends. It was straining to keep up the charade that she couldn’t stand Connor. He wanted their relationship to be out in the open, but she still had her reservations as to how it would impact her job. Somehow, she needed to subtly find out if having a relationship with a staff member would be grounds for dismissal.

  Little did Annie know what Meg really needed was to be whisked away with Connor and be free of all distractions. The insecurities remained, but not as deep. At times, doubt steamrolled her mind and body, making her wonder about Connor’s true intentions. This is not high school. Connor is not James. I am not the same naïve girl I was at fifteen.

  The weeks after she spilled her deepest, darkest, soul-wrenching secrets to Connor, he treated her like a princess, gently touching but not crossing the line to intimacy. She could tell it was hard for him—literally and figuratively—but he kept true to his word and didn’t pressure her. It killed her more than him, so she thought, but Meg knew in her heart, and in the deep of her loins, that she couldn’t continue with the first base routine. She wanted Connor. Bad.

  Tracy’s visit gave her a newfound confidence not only in herself, but in Connor as well. She even planned the perfect way to tell him about the romantic tryst she planned at an elegant resort on the coast of Maine, but she never got the opportunity to. Barbie showed up and blew her plans to hell.

  * * * *

  Of all the women he dated, hell, all the women he knew, Meg Fulton was the last person he ever expected to lead him by his balls and twist them until he was nearly castrated. He’d been walking around with a hard-on for the past four months all because he respected her. Shit, he thought he even loved her. The woman knew how to put on a damn good show acting vulnerable, innocent, and even charming. But she was a witch. Leading an entire community to believe in her innocence. It was a modern day crucible in the small town of Newhall.

  Revenge wasn’t normally in his character, but like the Puritans of long ago, it was all he could think of to save his pride. When his ex-wife Amy strolled her tight, lithe body into Martha’s, he knew immediately what play to call. The viper had always been predictable. As soon as her sugar daddy found another woman to occupy his time, she would come running back to her small hometown in search for Connor. Spotting him easily—as if she didn’t know he would be there—she sashayed her Playboy bunny body over to him. Damn predictable gold-digger.

  The fake sun and bleach jobs had done their number on her over the years. Everything about her was fake: the laugh, the nails, even the rack last year’s Superbowl MVP bought her. He couldn’t remember her natural coloring or her original personality, and he doubted she could either.

  The dumb blonde and the tough jock pair never really worked for him, but when he saw Meg breeze through the door minutes after the plastic ex-wife, he thought he’d give it a try.

  “Can I buy you a drink, Aim?”

  She tipped back her head and raked her three-inch nails down his chest, “Why Connor, I thought you’d never ask. I’ll have a dry martini with two olives.”

  Amy worked her way to a table of male teachers and flirted, as she typically did, while he forced a smile and held back his eye roll and then ordered her drink. Meg’s presence and smile lit up the bar, but he worked quickly to turn his back on her and choked down bile as he stormed over to Amy.

  “Here, let’s grab a private table in the corner. Tell me what’s new with you lately.”

  She was as shocked as him, but her seductive venom smile and obvious sway of her hips told him she was game. The next hour blurred by in a haze of annoyance. Both toward Amy and Meg. The label on his beers kept him semi-entertained while Amy rambled on about idle gossip that didn’t interest him and complained about her current boyfriend, her low funds, and the incredibly boring town of Newhall. “How you can stand to live in this archaic town is beyond me. You should come back to Texas. All the boys miss you.”

  And he was sure all the “boys” were missing her right now. She would always be their cheap entertainment. Men saw her blonde hair and big boobs and thought they struck gold. Ha! If they only knew. Connor found it hard to stay focused on her babbling while Meg was around. He caught her eye a few times and her subtle smile, and it took all the concentration he had not to smile back. He was pissed at her. She betrayed him. Pretending to be with Amy was an asshole move, and Meg probably believed he was using it to hide their relationship. He needed to act quickly and
make her realize he had caught on to her act.

  The anger raged inside him. At Amy for being so…stupid, and Meg for her betrayal. Connor took a long pull on his beer, draining it and banging the bottle down on the table. He shot out of his seat, pulled Amy to her feet and grabbed her and kissed her roughly. Just the way she liked it. She squirmed, shocked by the out-of-the-blue kiss, but quickly fell into it and opened her mouth to him. He didn’t want to take the kiss too deep but knew he had to in order to fool Meg. Her hands made their way down to his butt, squeezing it like a stress ball, when the catcalls from the next table started. He’d had enough. If he took it any further, he’d throw up the beer he had been forcing down. Connor yanked his arms and lips from Amy, stepped back, and gave her his best smoldering stare-down.

  “Let’s get out of here, Babe.” Knowing she’d follow, he stormed out of the bar but not before making eye contact with Meg and smirking victory. But, damn, he felt like a first-class shit.

  * * * *

  Eyes red, swollen and puffy, Meg never felt worse. She’d had her share of bad days over the years. Depression, anger, self-pity, but never had she felt so betrayed. What James did to her back in high school was devastating, but she didn’t remember it hurting as much as watching Connor play tonsil hockey with some bimbo. She knew James didn’t have feelings for her, but being raped by a drunk, teenage boy was nothing compared to being betrayed by the man she loved.

  After he left the bar with Barbie, she quickly finished her drink, said her goodbyes and hurried briskly to her car before anyone witnessed the catastrophe of uncontrolled, hypo-ventilating, dam-releasing tears that were about to erupt from her. Unfortunately, Annie intercepted her at the car.

  “Meg. I’m sorry. My brother is a dumb ass and his ex-wife is a slut.”

  “I, uh, I…don’t know what you’re talking about.” She cleared her throat and put on her Chanel sunglasses trying to hide her tears and the surprise at the reveal of slutty Barbie.

  “Honey, come here.” Annie hugged her in a knowing embrace and didn’t let go until she felt Meg control her shaking. “I get it, sweetie. You two have been trying to hide your feelings for each other for so long, but it’s obvious how much you two care about each other.”

  Meg laughed. “Yeah, pretty obvious the way his tongue licked the back of his ex-wife’s throat.”

  “I don’t understand what’s going on with you two. Gosh, I’ve sensed the two of you have been an item for a while now. The subtle glances in meetings, the way you both have been blissfully happy at the same time. I knew there was chemistry between you two, and tonight definitely proves me right. I won’t butt in where I don’t belong. You would have confided in me if you wanted me to help.”

  “Annie—”

  “No, don’t apologize. I totally respect your privacy and understand why you guys wanted to keep your relationship under the radar. But know that I am here for you if you need to vent. Forget he is my brother and remember you are my friend. That shitbag has been completely disowned.”

  “Thank you, Annie.”

  “Hush. Go home, soak in the tub, drink a bottle of wine, and tomorrow when you’re feeling stronger, go storm down his door, and tell his sorry ass off. If you don’t, I will.”

  There was no point in even attempting to sleep that night. Emma stayed home and wanted to talk about her new boyfriend, but Meg needed privacy and holed herself in her room. But all she did was cry. Wadded up tissues littered her floor. The bath didn’t work and she didn’t want to drink, so instead she curled up like a little baby and cried and cried and cried. It was nearly three in the morning before she dozed off and was awakened around eight when Emma knocked on her door and asked her if she wanted pancakes.

  She’d never been one to lay in bed all day. Meg was always on the go, always multi-tasking. House cleaning, baking, doing schoolwork, exercising, always something going on in her life. It wasn’t until after she skipped out on lunch that Emma came into her room and climbed under the covers with her, spooning her like a child.

  “Mama.” Emma hugged her tight which only made her cry even more.

  Once her crying convulsions subsided, Emma spoke again.

  “Mama, I’ve never seen you so sad. Talk to me.”

  “Baby girl, I love you dearly. I really do, and I appreciate you so much, but I don’t want to talk about this with you.”

  “It’s about McKay, right?”

  Meg rolled over and faced her daughter. When did my baby grow into such a beautiful, inquisitive young woman? “So, you knew too?”

  “Knew? Come on, Mom. Why do you think I’ve been spending so much time at Paige’s place? I figured you and coach wanted to keep your love affair top secret. I took off a lot so you wouldn’t have to sneak around. It’s been cute watching you sing while you cook, drive, and shower. You’re in love, mom, it’s so obvious.”

  “Was, honey. Connor and I broke up, but I really don’t want to go into detail.”

  “Yeah, I figured you’d say that. So here.” Emma handed her the phone. “Call Tracy. Talk to him. You need to talk to someone.” Emma kissed her mother’s head and left her to her privacy.

  Meg stared at the phone. Annie and Emma were right. Blowing out a sigh, she dialed Tracy’s familiar number.

  “So how’s the love goddess? Did the football star absolutely love his surprise?”

  “Oh, Tracy.” She spent the next minute trying not to cry, her tear ducts dried up, and her eyes felt like sandpaper. Meg told Tracy about the scene at Martha’s and her twenty-four hour moping session in bed.

  “Oh. My. God. Sweetheart, I feel so bad. This is all my fault. I thought he’d be a little jealous and would stir up the sexual pot, but I totally misjudged your jock.”

  “Jealous about what?”

  “He stopped by Sunday morning. Honey, you didn’t tell me he was jacked. But that’s beside the point. Anyway, you were in the shower, I had just gotten out of the guest bathroom, and I answered the door. In just my towel. I’m pretty sure he made some assumptions. I figured he’d play jealous, and you’d have amazing make-up sex. I didn’t think he’d retaliate. I’m sorry, princess. I’ll drive up right now and clear up this mess. It’s all my fault.”

  “No. Don’t bother. If he really believed I’d cheat on him…if he didn’t trust me enough…why didn’t he talk to me about it? Ah!” Meg got out of bed for the first time all day and paced. “He should know me better than that! Connor McKay is a spineless, shallow man, and I can’t believe I fell for him. I’m so not sad anymore. I’m pissed.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  “What? Don’t patronize me! Don’t act proud of me! I’m not some wallflower who can be taken advantage of! And stop laughing. I can hear you! It’s not funny!”

  “Meg, darling. I don’t believe I’ve ever been more proud than I am at this very moment. Take a shower, get yourself cleaned up, go find Mr. Football Star and give him a piece of your mind. You’re a scary lady when your path is crossed. Go now before you lose the vibe. Call me later. Hopefully much later. Hopefully you guys have make-up sex, it’s the best, and if so, call me in the morning. Or whenever you climb out of bed.”

  “You’re insane! I’m not sleeping with him. Ever! He’s a pig. I hate him. I can’t believe you think there is anything to even make up!”

  “You go, girl.”

  Chapter 13

  Last week Connor canceled Saturday night’s poker game figuring he’d be spending time with Meg, but called it back on this morning after the disgusting scene he made at Martha’s last night. He didn’t know what he was thinking. As soon as he and Amy got out to the parking lot she had started groping him, unbuttoning his jeans. She hadn’t changed a bit. “No” meant nothing to her. When she wasn’t succeeding at undressing him in the parking lot she had tried to pull his hands onto her chest, but he wanted no part of it. Too many hands had manhandled those surgically enhanced melons; besides, he lost interest in her the day he walked in on her with another m
an. Probably years before that.

  “I call. Coach, you in?” Kent and the other guys tossed in chips, laid down cards, drank beer, smoked cigars and made mindless chatter while Connor stewed in his misery.

  “Sure.” He tossed in three green chips, not paying attention to what he had in his hand. Seven and a two. Déjà vu. An ace and two queens showed on the board, but he didn’t care. He threw away his relationship with Meg; he might as well throw away his chips. The queen on the river flopped at the same time as the doorbell rang.

  “Hell, I’m out. I’ll get it.” Kent tossed down his cards and went upstairs to the front door. Connor heard Kent’s friendly greeting and soon angry footsteps marching down the stairs.

  The last person he expected to show up in the middle of his Texas Hold‘em game was Meg, and by the look on everyone’s surprised faces, including hers, he wasn’t alone.

  “Meg, come to give us a run for our money? You can have coach’s seat. He’s practically out of chips anyway,” Brad, the defensive line coach, and long-time teacher said.

  “You have some nerve!” She ignored Brad’s hospitality and pointed her finger down at Connor’s chest. He didn’t like being talked down to, so he stood to take advantage of his six-three height.

  “Let’s take this in the other room,” he said under his breath.

  “You low-down, dirty, slimy, conceited, disloyal, arrogant bastard!”

  “She knows you pretty well, coach,” Kent teased from behind.

  “Meg, not here.”

  She ignored him and scowled. He towered over her, but the way she scrutinized him made him feel small, inferior. “You thought Tracy…do you have any freakin’ clue at all? Any common sense? You’re so hypocritical and typical!”