“Don’t mind that,” she said. “You know how people at weddings are. They want to match up everyone who isn’t attached.”
“I wasn’t minding anything,” he said, his voice a throaty sound that raised gooseflesh on her arms. “Except the fact that as much as I like the way you look in this dress, I’d like you even more out of it.”
She froze as she met his gaze. A similar thought hadn’t been far from her mind—not since the first time. “But I—”
“You’re not my nurse now and you haven’t been for quite some time. Don’t even play the impropriety card.”
“Simon, there’s something I have to say—”
The music ended and her brother stood in the center of the dance floor with a microphone as the lights grew brighter. They stopped dancing, but Simon didn’t let her go. He snuggled her to his side and slid his arm around her waist, tightening his grip.
“Ladies, this is the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Cassie is going to throw her bouquet. If all the single women will gather in the center of the floor, I’ll be glad to take your phone numbers.”
“C’mon, Megan,” Cassie said, as she walked by then stopped beside their brother.
She looked up at Simon. “I guess I have to do this.”
“It’s flowers, not a firing squad, Megan.”
“It just feels like a firing squad,” she mumbled, reluctantly moving away from the warmth and security of his arms.
But Megan laughed in spite of herself as she joined the giggling group. Cassie stood a little apart, her full-skirted white dress billowing around her. Her veil was long gone, but a wreathlike crown of white roses and baby’s breath still circled her upswept blond hair.
“Get ready, Megan,” she whispered.
Cassie had informed her earlier that she was going to throw the bouquet in her direction. Cassie wanted to do everything possible to ensure Megan was the next bride. How pathetic was that?
“Do we have all the single ladies? Bayleigh?” Dan asked, surveying the guests.
Megan spotted her daughter on the other side of the circle standing beside Simon. The little girl shook her head and shyly burrowed next to the tall man who put his hand on her shoulder, protectively keeping her at his side. Her heart cracked at the sight.
“Okay, then,” Dan said. “Cass, it’s time for your Hail Mary pass.”
“Head’s up, Megan,” Cassie called and turned away.
Then the flowers went flying over the bride’s shoulder. Megan caught them easily and endured the good-natured grumbling of the other single ladies. She walked over to her daughter and handed her the bouquet.
“Thanks, Mommy.”
“You’re welcome.” She met Simon’s amused gaze.
Everyone gathered around laughed and clapped.
Dan came forward with the microphone. “That’s my niece.” He cleared his throat. “Okay, guys. It’s our turn. Single men gather round. Kyle’s going to remove the garter with his teeth.”
“Dan!” Cassie protested.
But a chair appeared and she sat in it and discreetly inched up her full white skirt. Down on one knee, Kyle grinned at his really and truly blushing bride and slid the lace and ribbon circle from his wife’s thigh. Whistles, cheers and catcalls accompanied his actions.
Then he stood and turned his back. The garter went sailing in Simon’s direction. Imagine that. Forget divine intervention. The Brightwells took matters into their own hands. And Simon was up to the challenge. He snagged it easily, while Megan’s heart broke just a little more. The other bachelors clapped him on the back.
“Mommy, I’m tired.” Bayleigh stood beside her along with her grandparents. “Grammy and Grampy are leaving now. Can I have a sleepover with them?”
“Sweetie, I’ll take you home.” She looked at her parents, who were standing just behind the little girl.
“Why don’t you stay until the reception’s over,” her mother said.
“Don’t you guys want to watch Cassie and Kyle leave?”
“No need. In the morning we’re taking them to the airport for the honeymoon trip.” Her father put his arm around his wife. “Frankly, I’m tired, too. It would give us a good excuse to leave before I get cranky.”
“You’re sure?” she asked, looking from one to the other.
“They’re sure, Mom, or they wouldn’t have said so,” Bayleigh pointed out.
“I guess she’s heard all this before,” Megan said, laughing.
“Heard what?” Simon asked, as he joined them.
“I’m taking your date and mine home,” her dad said. He put his hand up when Simon started to protest. “It’s all decided. You young folks stay. Knock yourselves out.”
“Yes, sir.”
Megan bent to give her daughter a hug and kiss. “Be good. I’ll see you in the morning. Bye. Love you.”
“Bye, love you, Mommy. Bye, Simon,” she said, waving as she turned away.
How long would it be before the little girl tacked a “love you” onto that for Simon? Megan knew she had to tell him everything before things got any worse. She waved as the three of them threaded their way between groups of guests then disappeared through the doorway.
He held out his hand. “Isn’t there some tradition that the guy who catches the garter has to dance with the woman who snagged the bouquet?”
Megan looked at the broad palm and long fingers, thinking it was more tempting than a box of chocolate-covered nuts and caramel. She wasn’t up for a debate or a denial and willingly put her hand in his. “If there isn’t a custom, there ought to be.”
He led her onto the dance floor as the strains of a love song filled the air. Megan went into his arms even more willingly than before and sighed when he urged her snugly against him. “Thank you for making this night special for Bayleigh.”
“It was my pleasure. She’s special. Like her mom.”
Megan’s heart began to pound. Surely he could feel it as easily as she felt the vibrations of his deep voice course through her while they moved slowly over the floor. Her breasts were pressed to his chest and she was gloriously grateful for the plunging back of her dress that allowed his palm to caress her bare skin. Heat shot straight through her like a fireball.
“Have I told you lately how beautiful you look?” His tone was low, husky, seductive and raised goose bumps all over.
“Yes, a little while ago. But I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”
“The way you look tonight—” He tightened his hold on her.
“What?”
“I want to have a sleepover, too.”
Startled, Megan’s feet stopped moving as she looked up and met his gaze. The emotions simmering there were enough to scorch her and steal the oxygen from her lungs. “I—I don’t know what to say to that.”
“Your place or mine? Makes no difference to me.” When she opened her mouth, he continued. “I know the rules and like I said before, they don’t apply anymore. There’s no reason we can’t be together.”
Chapter Fifteen
Megan couldn’t get her apartment door unlocked, her hand was shaking so badly. Not from fear, nerves or cold. Desire poured through her. Hot, molten, breath-stealing hunger for Simon. She’d hoped the drive from the reception to her apartment would have been long enough to cool her desire. But as Simon took the keys from her hand, the smoldering look in his eyes told her a trip from here to the moon wouldn’t be far enough.
“Let me,” he said.
In moments, they were tucked away inside. When he slid his hands around her waist and tugged her to him, her purse slid from her shoulder and clunked to the floor. The part of her brain not consumed with Simon knew everything had fallen out and was strewn everywhere. But she didn’t care.
Not when she was so desperate for him. This was selfish. But tonight could be all she would ever have with him. If she only had one night left on this earth, she wanted to spend it in Simon’s arms.
He kissed her deeply, then pulled back, b
reathing heavily. He started to shrug out of his jacket.
“Let me,” she said.
She put her palms on his chest, then slid them up toward his shoulders, pushing his coat off as she went. She loosened his tie and grabbed one end, pulling it hand over hand without taking her gaze from his. After tugging the tails of his shirt free, she started at his collar and undid the buttons one by one until his chest was bared to her curious gaze and her eager touch.
He took her wrist, lifting until he kissed each of her fingertips, then licked her palm. Her breathing escalated yet she couldn’t seem to draw enough air into her lungs while shivers of need raced through her.
“Let’s take this into the other room,” he said, his voice hoarse with fierceness.
She couldn’t have protested even if she’d wanted. And she definitely didn’t want to. With her hand tucked tightly in his, he led her down the hall and into her bedroom. He flipped the switch on the lamp beside the bed, casting the room and her unmade bed into subdued light.
“I was in a hurry this morning,” she explained. “What with the wedding and all.”
He urged her toward the bed until the backs of her knees touched the mattress. “Tell me why you didn’t want to catch the bouquet tonight.”
“It implies wanting to get married.” She unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, then slipped it off his shoulders.
“Don’t you?” He leaned down, touching his lips to her neck.
She gasped at the jolt of pleasure that zinged through her. “If I did—”
“If? Not when?”
“Is this any time to psychoanalyze me?”
“It works for me. They say taking your clothes off doesn’t make you vulnerable. It’s expressing your feelings.”
“They? Dr. Phil?”
“Whoever. I think working in the ER is safe for you because patients are in and out. Short-term. You don’t have a chance to get attached.”
She blinked, then stared at him. She’d never thought of it that way. “That’s good.”
“I can do better.”
When he grinned, her insides melted like chocolate in a double boiler. “If it’s all the same to you, would you stop messing with my mind and just kiss me?”
“Happy to oblige.” But first he turned her around.
Megan felt his warm fingers on the zipper of her dress. Slowly he tugged it down, letting his knuckles graze her back all the way to her backside. He slipped his hands beneath the straps and gripped her upper arms as the satin slid down her body and pooled at her feet. In the next instant he’d dispensed with her strapless bra and everything else. He picked her up in his arms and deposited her gently in the center of her double bed. Then he took a foil square from his wallet and set it on her nightstand before scattering his clothes on the floor.
In the dim light, she let her gaze roam over his body—the chiseled face, wide shoulders, the sprinkling of hair over his chest tapering to a line over his flat stomach, long muscular legs. Then there was his most impressive reaction to her. It seemed an eternity before he finally lowered himself to the bed and stretched out beside her.
“Now, I’ll kiss you.” His voice was just this side of a growl, and he was breathing hard.
It was nice not to be the only one. And when his mouth descended to within a whisper of hers, she was glad not to be able to form a coherent thought. “For the record,” she said breathlessly, “I’m a sucker for a man who takes charge.”
“Good.”
He nibbled her lips, then took charge of the very sensitive place just beneath her ear. He took such masterful charge she nearly shot up off the bed as intense pleasure rushed through her. But the sensations evoked by his strong hands held her in place. She couldn’t suppress a small moan of delight when he cupped her breast and brushed his thumb over her nipple.
But she was pleased he wasn’t completely cool in his mastery. His hand shook.
She nestled next to him, feeling the length of his maleness flex at the touch of her femininity. Moving against him, she heard his breath as he hissed through his teeth. Pleased, she reached out and guided his face back to hers, kissing him. He traced her mouth with his tongue, urging her to open. When she did, he dipped inside, stroking her until the fire in her belly burned bright and hot. Heat spread from the tips of her toes to the top of her head and the places in between.
“Simon, please,” she whispered.
“Soon.”
“No. Now.”
He laughed and she felt the vibration where the warm skin of his chest flattened her sensitive breasts. “What Megan wants, Megan gets?”
If only that were true. Then she would get him. But she couldn’t think about that now. She only wanted to feel. And remember.
He reached for the foil packet and carefully opened it, though his hands shook. After covering himself, he kissed her hard, pressing her into the mattress with his body. Then he levered himself between her thighs and took his weight on his forearms as he settled against her. With a single forceful thrust, he was inside her.
She sighed, savoring the wonder of being one with this man. It felt right—like coming home. But it felt amazing when he started to move. Slowly at first as she searched for a rhythm, then faster when she found it. He took her on a magic carpet ride. Just when she thought she couldn’t go any higher, her breath caught at the dizzying peak.
Tension built within her, up and up until the lights behind her eyes grew brighter than the fireworks on the Fourth of July. Release rippled through her—wave after wave of bone-melting satisfaction. A moment later, Simon’s body tensed and froze. His arms went around her, pressing her to his chest as he groaned out his own gratification.
He was still for several moments. Then he cupped her cheek in his palm and kissed her tenderly, before rolling away. Some part of her registered the fact that the light in the bathroom went on and off before he was beside her again. He slid an arm beneath her and nestled her against him.
“Who knew six could be so mind-blowing,” he said, reminding her of her hasty explanation to her daughter.
“You’re going to hell.” She started to giggle.
They laughed until she cried. Just one whole night in his arms. That’s all she asked. Tomorrow, she would tell him everything.
Simon carefully slipped out of Megan’s bed so he wouldn’t wake her. He put on his pants and went into the kitchen to start coffee. Yanking open the refrigerator door, he assessed the contents, then pulled out eggs and biscuits. No breakfast meat here. No cholesterol in the veins of Megan’s life.
After last night, he was pretty sure his campaign to show her he wasn’t that kind of guy was working. At least he hoped so. Because he intended to be in her life for a long time. How could he not? After so long in the dark, he couldn’t seem to get enough of the light. He would probably always carry a pocket of guilt inside him for what had happened to Marcus. The “if onlys” would always be there. But they wouldn’t keep him from moving on.
Whistling, he went through her cupboards and found a pan and cookie sheet. He preheated the oven then set the doughy circles out for baking. After eggs were cracked and whipped in the bowl, he figured there was nothing to do but wait until the sexy sleepyhead in the other room decided to drag herself out of bed. He intended to give her a hot breakfast for a change. As hot as the love they’d made last night.
The thought made him grin as he walked through her living room on his way to the door and the daily newspaper outside it. Just on the threshold, he saw Megan’s purse where she’d dropped it. Simon recalled the heat and need he’d felt and the reflection of the same in her eyes and his smile widened. His smiles came easily since meeting Megan. He knew she was more than a friend. The L word popped into his mind, but he wasn’t ready to go there.
He squatted down, picked up her wallet, keys and sunglasses and stuffed them into her bag. A plastic expandable picture holder, halfway open, was nearby. Leave it to Megan to carry a walking photo album with her. He grabbed it
and couldn’t resist glancing through. Shots of Bayleigh as a baby. Her first school picture. One of her with her grandparents.
The last one startled him. A cold feeling crept over him as he recognized the woman with Bayleigh. Images flashed through his mind in a puzzled jumble. This photo was the piece that completed the picture.
He heard movement behind him, then Megan slid her arms around his waist. She was wearing a terry-cloth robe, but even through that he felt her breasts pressed to his back. Then the softness of her cheek as she rubbed against him. “Good morning.”
The sunshine in her voice lasered his heart in half. The feel of her made his body respond as if it had a mind of its own. Tension coiled through him.
He knew she felt it when she lifted her head. “What is it, Simon?”
He turned and held out the picture of Janet and Bayleigh. “Were you ever going to tell me?”
Everything fell into place. Why Bayleigh’s father had left. The little girl’s eye problems. Corrective surgery. Janet had told him the recipient of Marcus’ corneas was a little girl. She kept in touch with the child. Everything had been right in front of him, but he’d refused to see.
“Tell you what?” Megan took the pictures and saw the one he’d been looking at. “Oh, God—” She looked at him, shock and surprise swirling in her eyes. “What are the odds? Of all the emergency rooms in all the world, you had to roll into mine,” she whispered. The words were light, a reference to one of the most tragic romantic movies of all time.
Appropriate, he thought, bitter anger surging through him. He rested his hands on his hips. “Don’t you have anything to say? Were you ever going to clue me in?”
“Yeah. But I’m not sure you’re willing to hear me.”
“Try.”
She sighed and walked into the kitchen. “I need coffee. Want some?”
“No.”
She reached into the cupboard and pulled out a mug. He had the satisfaction of seeing that her hand was shaking.
After pouring the hot, dark liquid into her cup, she faced him. Her expression was blank, carefully blank, he thought. But her knuckles went white as she gripped the cup like a life preserver.
Midnight, Moonlight & Miracles Page 19