by Jeannie Moon
Her words dripped with so much invitation, he almost thought he might get laid when he got to her house, but the flash of anger in her eyes told him she was going to rip him a new one. She just wasn’t going to do it here; she was keeping it between them.
Harper may not have learned tact and discretion, but Meg sure had. She was amazing, and he was starting to feel like a very lucky man. “Give me an hour, okay?”
“Can’t wait,” she purred, and kissed him again. “Come on, Molly girl. Let’s go home.”
Molly ran to her side, deliberately avoiding Harper, who was shooting daggers at Meg. Before Jason could recover from the two kisses, they’d said their good-byes and left.
Holy hell. Who was that woman?
“You’re going to marry her?” Harper said on a laugh. “Your mother was right. She looks like a stripper.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Jason said, turning and pointing at her. “And don’t ever say that again.”
“I don’t think she looks like a stripper,” Nate said to Owen. “Do you?”
“Nah, she’s hot, and she’s got a great rack, but not a stripper. She’s too short anyway.” Owen popped a piece of shrimp in his mouth.
“True, too hard to work the pole,” Nate agreed. “But the heels do help.”
Owen nodded.
“Stop. Just stop. Shit. She’s going to be my wife in a week. Show some respect.”
Harper was grinning, her arms folded. Jason was so angry, if she were a man, he’d knock that smug look right off her face.
“You’d better get used to it. It’s going to happen every time you take her to a function, a dinner party, for cocktails at some new bar.”
“What’s going to happen? She’s beautiful.”
“She’s flashy. The wild hair, the body, that face. She’s gorgeous, but she doesn’t belong in your world, Jason.”
Jason sat on one of the stools at the island, thinking about Harper’s words. Thinking how Meg would feel at the kinds of events that Harper mentioned. He remembered years ago taking Meg to baseball and hockey games where she wore a jersey and screamed her head off for her favorite teams. She was fun and enthusiastic, and that wasn’t the type of world he lived in.
Last week he talked to her about taking her and Molly to a Giants game and she couldn’t contain her excitement about the idea—until she found out they would be in his company’s luxury suite. Meg wanted to sit in the stands, in the cold.
This was the same thing he faced in high school, only worse. He wanted Meg to be happy, but he didn’t know how she was going to be part of his life. She was fun and down-to-earth and she didn’t have any love for the pretense that swirled around him. She was different from everyone else, and rather than being worried about it, Jason liked it that way. The only thing he truly hoped was that he had as much nerve as she did. Jason didn’t want to blow this up, but his assistant had to know Meg wasn’t going to let anyone walk all over her.
“You know,” he began, glaring at Harper, “I underestimated her once, Harper. Just once. I’ll never do it again.” Picking up a folder off the kitchen table, he headed for his office. “Trust me, you shouldn’t underestimate her, either.”
***
“She thinks I’m marrying him for his money.” Meg paced around her bedroom, talking to her sister on the phone. “But everyone thinks that.”
“She sounds like she’s going to be trouble.”
“More than likely. It seems no matter what the circumstances, there is some woman in his life who hates me.”
The doorbell rang, and Meg checked out the upstairs window to see Jason’s car in her driveway. Molly poked her head in. “Can I let him in?”
“Answer the door the way I taught you.” Molly took off, and Meg followed to the top of the stairs to watch her. “He’s here. Early. He must be scared.”
“That’s different. He didn’t give a rat’s ass what you thought last time.”
“He has grown up, you know.”
“Hmmm. So tell me about the Harpy.”
“Oh, I like that.” The name would be used again. “Well, she’s tall, dark-haired.” Meg bit into a black and white cookie from her shower that afternoon and looked at it, disgusted. “She’s skinny. Perfect.”
“She’s not perfect. Far from it.” Meg turned toward the door, and there stood her gorgeous, sexy fiancé holding a five-year-old’s hand like it was a piece of glass. He was smiling at her in the way she imagined husbands smiled at their wives when they knew they were in trouble. And it made Meg both happy and sad because she didn’t know what was real between them and what wasn’t.
“Carly, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Go get him, tiger,” said her sister before ending the call.
Jason leaned over and whispered something in Molly’s ear, and she took off toward her room. That’s when he stepped inside her bedroom and looked around the space.
Meg loved her room. It was beautiful and feminine, with soft cream walls, a tan patterned rug, and a lush paisley comforter with shades of blue, tan, and yellow. She had lacy sheets and pillowcases, and having Jason in this space made her wish Molly were already asleep.
Ack! No. No. No. She had to stop thinking about him and sex and sex with him. God, she was pathetic. Meg popped the last piece of black and white cookie in her mouth and sat on the edge of her bed.
She wasn’t expecting him to sit next to her. Jason took her hand in his and gave her a kiss. “Harper is not perfect. She is many things, including smart and beautiful, but so are you.” He stopped and licked his lips. “What were you just eating?”
“A cookie.” Crap, he was going to find her out.
“What kind of cookie?” Jason leaned in and kissed her again.
“A black and white.”
“Those are my favorite.”
“I know. I brought them home from the shower for you.”
He smiled. It was such a sweet smile. The bastard.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I ate them.”
“All of them?”
“I was mad at you because of the Harper thing. So I ate the cookies.” There was still one left, but he wasn’t getting it. Now it was on principle.
“That was adult.” His smile was wide and inviting. Good Lord, he was gorgeous. “They’re all gone?”
“Pretty much.” Meg stood and walked to her dresser. Should she tell him there was one left? Tease him with it? Meg played with a lipstick and then, when he wasn’t looking at her, made her decision. She took off at a run for the kitchen, flying down the stairs and jumping past the last three steps, but Jason was right behind her. There was no way she was going to outrun him, but she had to eat the last cookie before he got to it. She was so pissed, she couldn’t let him win.
“Megan, don’t be a brat.”
She spun when she got to the kitchen door, glad she’d changed into her pajama pants and a T-shirt. “No cookie for you!”
She’d spread her arms out, gripping the door frame, and Jason did the same, clasping his hands over hers. He pressed into her, and Meg knew if he wanted that cookie she wasn’t going to stop him, but the game, the tease, was such fun.
“You are a troublemaker.”
“Maybe, but your assistant is a nasty bitch who hasn’t found her way out of middle school yet.”
“I think she’s done better than middle school. She has a Harvard MBA.”
Oh, yeah, it was fun . . . until now. Is he kidding? “I cannot believe you’re defending her.”
“I’m not. I’m sorry. I’m not defending her. I know she upset you, but that’s just the way she is.”
“Just the . . . Are you kidding me? Well, ‘the way she is’ is bitchy, and I don’t find that acceptable. So you can forget us becoming BFFs and having long giggly texting sessions about you, ’kay?”
“Meg . . .”
She broke away from him and slammed her hand against the refrigerator. “She said I looked like a stripper, Jason.
A stripper!”
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You heard that?”
“She didn’t even wait until I closed the door before she said it. What was it, the boobs, the hair? What?”
“She shouldn’t have said it. I’m sorry.”
“I can’t do this. I can’t marry you.”
“You have to. We’ve talked about this. Think about what Grace wanted. What you want.”
“But I can’t go through it again. I can’t be made to feel like the slutty girlfriend again.”
She felt him move up from behind, and his arms came around her, folding across her body. When he did this, it felt like he would love her forever. And Meg melted into it, because that’s what she wanted.
“I’m sorry about what she said,” he murmured into her hair. “I’m sorry.”
Meg held on to his arms and wished this were real. He was sorry, she knew that, but there was a sinking feeling inside Meg that, once again, she’d be good enough for Jason, but not good enough for the rest of his life.
Chapter 8
Meg heard the whirring of the engine pick up and drop down, indicating the gears had changed again. She was getting used to sitting in the passenger seat of the Mercedes, but tonight was different. Tonight, she was Jason’s wife. Examining the sparkling diamond band on her finger, the reality of the situation flooded her. She was a married woman, something she had wanted for as long as she could remember, but she wasn’t really happy. The promise of someone who would love her unconditionally and be with her forever was the dream. The problem she had was that her groom didn’t love her, and this marriage wasn’t about forever.
But damn, he was so good-looking, it hurt. Meg turned in her seat and allowed herself to admire the man she’d married. As they zipped down the main road through the villages of Cutchogue and Southold, he kept the music turned low and his eyes on the road. His profile was exquisite. His high cheekbones and deep-set eyes gave his face depth and character, and the short dark hair was always a little mussed, making her want to reach out and touch him. Of course, he caught her looking and the grin he gave her went right to his blue eyes, crinkling the corners and melting her heart.
Meg smoothed the front of her dress and looked away because she was afraid he’d see what she was feeling, that there was an attraction that went beyond the physical. He was her heart, he always had been. Ever since she’d realized the difference between boys and girls, Meg knew Jason was for her. She’d dreamed of the day she’d wear a beautiful white dress and he would dress in a gorgeous suit and they’d stand before the world and declare their love for each other.
They’d done that today.
And it was a lie.
“Have you been to Greenport?” Jason’s deep voice shook her from her thoughts, and she continued to fiddle with her dress.
“I’ve never stayed, but I’ve explored the village a little. Where are we staying? That pretty inn on Front Street?”
“No, we’re going to my boat. It’s docked at the wharf.”
“Boat?” Meg felt her pulse pick up. “I don’t like boats. You said we were going to Greenport.”
“We are going to Greenport.”
“But a boat?”
“You’ll like my boat,” he said, his smile warm and sweet. Damn. The heat curled up in Meg’s belly, coupled with an ache that became so acute, it surprised even her. This was desire that went far past anything she’d ever felt, and he hadn’t even touched her. It was simply the promise of a touch, a kiss, a gentle whisper, that made her body respond.
“Jason, really. I mean, why are we even doing this? It’s not like it’s a real marriage; why are we going on a honeymoon?” They turned right, off Front Street, and he pulled the car up by one of the docks. “And I don’t do well on boats. I mean, I’ve been on cruise ships, but those are different—”
“We’re here.” He leaned on the steering wheel and looked out the windshield. When Meg did the same, she came face-to-face with Jason’s “boat.”
Oh. My. God. It was a yacht, at least a hundred feet long, with multiple decks, and it was beautiful.
“Think you can manage on this?”
“Ummm . . . I think so.” Meg reached out and backhanded his upper arm. “Boat. This is not a boat. A boat is what you use for fishing or waterskiing. This has more square footage than my house.”
He laughed and got out of the car. While Meg gathered her skirts, she saw Jason scoot around the hood and then gallantly open her door. His hand reached for hers, and Meg, who was still holding on to a boatload of doubt, let it go to live the fairy tale. It was a beautiful fall night, she was wearing an exquisite dress, and her prince was taking her hand. Oh, sure, he was a bit of a nerdy prince, with his glasses and giant brain, but he was hers. For now.
Once the car door closed and she could see without obstruction, she looked the yacht over fully. Named My Girl, it was the epitome of wealth. Just like his car, his custom-made suit, and her gown, which cost the same as a down payment on a small house. They were all signs of how Jason lived his life. It should have felt more extravagant than it did, but the reality was, other than his most obvious luxuries, Jason led a pretty simple life. When he was working, his favorite snack was peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He never bought coffee out anywhere because he had perfectly good coffeemakers. He might buy custom suits and shirts, but his favorite thing to wear were his Levi’s. Meg looked down at her left hand and admired the rings he had given to her. There were tens of thousands of dollars on her finger, but he used coupons when they went to the home store to buy things for their house.
Meg took a step and caught her heel in the space between the planks. Fortunately, Jason was quick and kept her from face-planting on the dock. Meg was hanging on to the lapels of his jacket, and Jason’s arms were firmly around her, holding her close to his chest. When he looked into her face, he raised an eyebrow. “You’re a danger to yourself.”
“No, the dock isn’t even.”
“I’ve been watching you for the last month. You’re as big a klutz as you were when you were ten.”
Meg pushed against him and tried to wiggle away.
“Oh, no,” he said. “If I let you walk up the gangway, it’s likely you’ll end up in the drink.”
“You’re being mean. It’s not even twenty feet long. I can walk.”
“Nope.” As she tried to push away one more time, Meg was held firm and then scooped up into Jason’s arms. “I’ll carry you so you don’t break your neck.”
“Put me down!”
“Hell, no. Not only is it dangerous, I’ll lose the chance to cop a feel of your ass. Which I should be allowed to do, since we’re married.”
“What? Cop a . . . Put me down, Jason!”
“Those shoes are lethal weapons,” he said, glancing at her feet. They were hard to walk in, but she loved her shoes. Loved them. They were open-toed and sexy and sparkly and completely impractical, but they weren’t dangerous.
“I love them.” Meg admired her feet, which were sticking up in the air. “I might wear them with my pajamas.”
That’s when Jason’s hand did a long slow slide along her backside. It was warm and delicious, and he was looking right at her, grinning like he had a secret. Meg looped her arms around his neck and planted a light kiss on his collarbone. Jason drew in a long breath and caught her gaze. God, she wanted him so badly.
Maybe the wine was making her act like this, maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t had sex in three years, or maybe Meg wanted nothing more than to feel close to someone. But the desire, the burn, was brutal. The feel of his hands on her, his scent, his sweet breath . . . and he was her husband. All hers, and Meg just wanted to enjoy it. Meg wanted him, but this relationship was about keeping things safe and platonic and separate.
But it was such a beautiful night and they’d had an amazing day, and then he touched her and all Meg’s resolve dissolved. How was a girl supposed to resist a scene like this? Or bet
ter, how was she supposed to resist a man like him?
“I like this cologne,” she whispered.
“Thank you. Are you drunk?”
“A little, I think.”
“You think? I need you to be really sure.”
They were standing on the gangway, frozen in the same spot as they were when she kissed him. Hoping for more of a reaction, her lips went a little higher and touched his Adam’s apple.
“What do you want, Meg?”
Her eyes met his and held, and that’s when she gave herself up. “I want you. I know I’m not supposed to, but I . . . I . . .”
And that’s when the bubble burst.
***
Jason held on to Meg, his erection raging, and the only thing he could think of when she said she wanted him was that he hoped he could hold on long enough to enjoy her a little. Cradling her in his arms, her gown falling around them, her breasts swelling out of the top, he was wondering how long it would take to get her out of her dress. This was a woman who should be naked all the time—gorgeous, round, not afraid of being sexy. He wanted her tangled in his sheets, writhing under him while he enjoyed every inch of her. If a marriage could be based only on sex, he’d never divorce her.
“God, Meg, are you sure?”
“Hello there, you two!”
Meg’s eyes squeezed shut, and Jason looked up to see Harper, hanging over the rail of the top deck. He had no idea what she was doing on board, but he pretty much figured his chance at getting sex vanished. Meg hated Harper, with good reason after what had happened last week. He’d spent three days making sure his fiancée wasn’t going to leave him at the altar. In the end, her loyalty to his sister and Molly kept her from calling the whole thing off.
They both knew marriage was temporary, but there was no reason to make the arrangement harder than it had to be. And now, Harper was here on their wedding night.
Fucking perfect.
Looking back at Meg, who was obviously furious, there wasn’t much he could say. “I am so sorry. I don’t know why she thought to come here.”
“Are you kidding? You’ve set the precedent, Jason. We may never be alone, and do you know what that means?”