No men.
Much safer.
“You can look at me. I won’t bite.”
Maybe she wanted him to take a nip or two. She shook her head and raised her gaze so it struck the top of the table and her fresh cup of coffee.
“You haven’t upset me. Moira…well, it was a long time ago.”
“It must’ve been difficult for you raising a son on your own.”
“We muddled along,” Jacey said, and he placed his hand on top of hers.
Megan jumped at the physical contact, memories of Charlie flooding her mind. She still remembered the breathless anticipation she’d felt when he’d curled his fingers around hers. Jacey’s innocent touch sent an equal burst of energy sizzling across her skin. Her gaze shot to his, and she encountered good humor and understanding.
He smiled, and her breath caught, that annoying prickling firing to life again. She tried. She attempted to hold his gaze. The seconds lengthened, and when she managed to gasp a breath, that ginger and mulled wine, along with the green and wildness of the outdoors flooded her with dizziness. She gasped at the physical awareness that sprang to life in her body—her breasts and her rapid heartbeat—and wrested her gaze free.
With a trembling hand, she reached for her latte. The milky coffee sloshed over the rim of her cup and, mortified, she set her drink down with a clink and seized a napkin.
“Do I make you nervous?”
The wretched man sounded pleased.
“No,” she snapped and blotted the splashes on her notebook. The table shook with the force of her dabs.
“You make me nervous.”
The confession drew her, and she risked a glance. His broad grin drew a frown. “You’re laughing at me.”
“No. Taste the brownie and tell me what you think. They’re London’s favorite.”
“Is London your girlfriend?”
“No,” he said. “Henry’s best friend, Gerard, is married to London. They’re arriving home today from their honeymoon.”
“Oh.”
“Gerard is like a second son. He and Henry have been friends since their schooldays. Gerard and London married in Fiji. Henry and I were there for their wedding but came back early to give the newlyweds privacy. Go on. Try the brownie.”
“But it’s yours.”
Jacey picked up his coffee spoon and used it to separate the brownie into two even pieces. “There you go. Now it’s ours.”
Megan accepted the brownie and took a bite. Chocolate and sweetness danced across her taste buds. She swallowed. Delicious. “I can see why London would love these.”
“You have chocolate…” His blue eyes gleamed.
Self-consciously, she wiped at her mouth.
“No, let me,” he said, his voice husky and compelling.
He picked up a napkin and wiped her bottom lip.
“There you go,” he said.
“Am I interrupting?” An amused Emily Mitchell stood beside their table. Curiosity blazed in her expression before it blanked. Or had that been smugness?
Megan shook herself and when she looked again, all she saw was a friendly smile.
“Not at all.” Jacey rose. “I need to get going. I promised Henry I’d do errands for him. Thanks for your company, Ms. Saxon.”
“Rachel should have your brownies ready for you at the counter,” Emily said.
“Thanks.” Jacey strode toward the counter, and Megan’s gaze followed along like a pet lamb. The man looked perfect from all angles.
“Nice butt.”
“Yes,” Megan agreed absently before she registered what she’d said. “Oh. I didn’t say that.”
Emily laughed, patted her hand and claimed the seat Jacey had vacated. “He’s single if you’re interested. I don’t know him well since he’s new to Middlemarch but his son, Henry, is lovely.”
“Are you kidding? My schedule is so full I barely have time to think, let alone attempt any relationship.”
Emily cocked her head like an inquisitive bird. “That must be lonely.”
A hit. Megan refused to let her emotions free and forced herself to sit straight, to choke back the heavy sigh struggling for release. This was the path she’d chosen to survive losing Charlie, and she had to own it.
“Could you give me a little background about the two teams who are playing the opening match for the Sevens tournament tonight?” Megan glanced through the details her boss had forwarded to her. “I’ve got the list of players, and I see you’ve given me a brief bio. That’s good. I can have fun with these details. My boss has also asked me to do a special-interest piece on Middlemarch. It will go in our subscriber magazine plus my report about the tournament. I believe it’s the first one you’ve held. Why did you decide to hold a Sevens tournament?”
“We want to entice our young people to stay in the region or come back on a regular basis to take part in local functions. A few years ago, the town of Middlemarch was dying. They had a shortage of young women and lots of single men who stayed here to farm the land. We wanted a better balance and to make Middlemarch a fun place to live. We’ve organized dances, have a regular weekend market, hold self-defense courses for all age groups, and have a boot camp. Two months ago, we had a zombie run, which was so popular, we intend to hold another one next year.”
Emily Mitchell’s enthusiasm for her hometown shone through her words.
“I’ll interview some of the players and supporters tonight and during the rest of the tournament,” Megan said a she jotted notes in her own particular shorthand.
“That sounds good,” Emily said. “I have to thank you again for agreeing to come to our event. I feel guilty when you’ve said how busy you are.”
“Don’t. I didn’t mean to sound as if I didn’t want to be here.” She didn’t, but it was no excuse for rudeness.
“I heard rumors you will be one of the hosts for the new show they’re advertising.”
“No,” Megan said and pushed away the stab of disappointment. “Just rumors. Was there anything else you needed me to take care of? Any particular people I should mention.”
“One of our locals died recently, and we’ve named the winners’ cup in his honor. Would you be able to present the cup to the winning team and read a short speech about Kenneth Nesbitt? I’d ask a local to do it but anyone I ask would have been close to Kenneth and they might break down speaking in public. We want this to be a celebration of his life and a way to remember him.”
“Not a problem. I’d be honored,” Megan said.
“There is one more thing,” Emily said. “We’re always fundraising. This time it is for new sports equipment for the local school. The organizing committee wondered if you would donate some of your time, so we could auction off a date with you.”
Megan opened her mouth to refuse and Emily Mitchell spoke faster, not giving her a chance to object.
“The winner would take you on a date for dinner here at the café. We thought an early dinner in case the winner is a youngster. We have both girls and boys who play Sevens rugby at school, and I know they’re all keen to say hello to you and quiz you about your job. Will you do it?”
As if she had any choice. Megan forced a smile. “I’d be happy to.” A couple of hours. It wouldn’t be too bad, and it wasn’t as if she hadn’t donated her time in a similar fashion before.
* * * * *
Middlemarch school, later that night
Jacey trailed Henry as they walked into the school hall for the opening ceremony.
Henry scanned the rows of seats, all occupied. “Looks like standing room only.”
“Hey, mister. Want to buy a raffle ticket?” a perky teenage girl asked. Her friend, a giggly blonde with pigtails, shook a container of money in front of Jacey’s face.
“How much?” Jacey asked.
“Ten dollars a ticket or three for twenty dollars.”
“I’ve got it,” Henry said, pulling a twenty out of his wallet.
“You need to write your name on th
e tickets, mister,” the girl said to Henry.
Henry took care of the ticket formalities for both of them and shoved the tickets in his pocket.
“Thanks,” the two teenagers chorused, and they moved on to their next victims.
“Leo and Isabella are waving at us,” Jacey said.
“Good, they’ve saved us seats.” Henry wove through the knots of locals, exchanging a word here and there and ignoring the whispers from the anti-wolf felines who were brave enough to voice their opposition.
Jacey ignored them too, his belly swirling in anticipation. Tonight they’d see Megan Saxon again. He wasn’t sure what to do about Megan. This morning, his presence had unsettled her and he’d witnessed the dawning awareness in her blue eyes. The attraction wasn’t just on his side, but he wasn’t sure…
No, not true. He and his wolf were in total agreement. They should grab her, take her to a private place and get horizontal, although vertical against a door or a wall would work equally well. As long as he got his hands on her, he wasn’t fussy.
Saber Mitchell appeared on the stage at the front of the hall and raised his right hand for silence.
“Are Gerard and London coming?” Isabella asked.
“They’ll be along later, in time for the opening match,” Henry said. “London wanted to unpack first.”
Up on the stage, Saber tapped on the mic and started speaking. “I’d like to welcome everyone to the inaugural Kenneth Nesbitt Sevens tournament. Most of you have seen or heard of our guest commentator since she has graced our screens and introduced us to different sports for the last ten years. I’d like you all to put your hands together to welcome, Megan Saxon.”
A thunderous applause filled the hall as Megan strode onto the stage. Jacey clapped with the rest of the audience. He leaned back in his hard chair and watched her with a great deal of pleasure. She wore a charcoal-gray pantsuit with a red scarf around her neck. Her high heels clicked on the wood stage with each confident step. Once she reached Saber Mitchell, she shook his hand and turned to beam at the audience.
“Welcome to the inaugural Kenneth Nesbitt Sevens tournament. I’m thrilled to be here in the capacity of commentator, and I look forward to seeing what you can all do on the rugby field. But first, I’d like to pay homage to one of your homegrown heroes, Kenneth Nesbitt.”
The crowd listened as Megan told them of the big man with the big heart who loved learning new things, including using his smartphone. She mentioned how he’d turned up in Middlemarch as a five-year-old and stood up to the three bullies trying to shove Benjamin Urquart and Sid Blackburn into a thorny hedge. That was the beginning of a lifelong friendship.
By the time Megan finished there wasn’t a dry eye in the hall. Jacey hadn’t met the man, but pride filled him at the way Megan had portrayed him.
“So I want you to play hard and play fair in the spirit of Kenneth Nesbitt. May the best team win!” Megan beamed at the applause, waited until the din died. “I now declare the Kenneth Nesbitt Sevens tournament open. Let’s play rugby!”
“She’s good,” Henry murmured.
“Yes.”
“One last thing before we start the opening match,” Saber said. “Megan graciously allowed us to raffle off a date with her, with the proceeds going toward new sports equipment for the school. The lucky winner will have the honor of dining with Megan at Storm in a Teacup tomorrow night.” He flashed a broad grin. “I know the owner and the food is exceptional.”
Everyone laughed.
“Right. Emily, I’ll get you to draw the winner,” Saber said.
Emily thrust her hand into a bag and pulled out one yellow raffle ticket. She handed it to Saber.
“And the winner of a dinner date at Storm in a Teacup with Megan Saxon is Jacey Anderson. Jacey, come and see Emily later this evening, and she’ll let you know more about your date.”
Jacey stared at Emily and Saber, feeling a frown dig into his cheeks. Henry clapped him on the back. Leo and Isabella both stood ready to leave the hall.
“Congratulations, Jacey.” Isabella said. “You’ll be the envy of a lot of Middlemarch men. Megan Saxon might be in her forties but she’s one sexy lady.”
Jacey nodded and turned his focus on Henry and Leo. “Did you do this?”
“I bought tickets and wrote your name on them,” Henry said. “That’s all.”
When Henry had been a child, Jacey had known whenever he was lying or had taken part in a mischievous act. At some stage, Henry had acquired an impassive face, and annoyingly, he couldn’t tell if his son was telling him what he wanted to hear or the truth. Jacey turned his gaze to Leo. Leo wore the same enigmatic expression, which raised Jacey’s bull-crap register.
“Maybe I could donate the prize back and they could raffle it off again.”
“No,” Henry snapped. “You won fair and square. The method we discussed yesterday—it didn’t go down that way.”
“Nope,” Leo added. “This was plain, dumb luck.”
Henry glared at him. “A sign that this is worth exploring.”
Jacey snorted. “The lady kissed you, not me.”
“I didn’t encourage her.”
“Did we miss something?” Isabella asked.
“No,” Jacey said, fervently wishing he hadn’t raised the subject.
“Yes.” Leo peered at them both. “I wasn’t presence during any kissing.”
Most of the crowd had dispersed, going outside to stake out their places on the sideline.
“Just as well,” Isabella said in a tart voice. “A mate doesn’t like to hear this sort of thing.”
“Jacey, you like her.” Henry’s gaze drilled into him. “Stop putting up roadblocks. It’s just dinner.”
Wrong. It was more because during their cup of coffee this morning things had clicked between them. Unfortunately, once he’d left, he’d realized his wolf couldn’t keep her—not when she was a public figure.
“You’re right,” he said. “It’s just dinner. I can deal with one dinner.” But the truth. He wasn’t sure he could keep his hands off her.
* * * * *
The next night, Storm in a Teacup
The first day of the Sevens tournament had passed so quickly. She’d laughed, joked, and had fun commentating the games that took place on the main field. The local team was doing well, and she hope she kept her favoritism hidden.
“Megan,” Emily said. “You’re early. Your table is over here.” She gestured to a private corner, partially screened with plants so the table wasn’t visible to the entire café. “Would you like a glass of wine while you wait?”
Megan considered her answer. It would help with her nerves because she was apprehensive about seeing Jacey again. On the other hand, too much wine wasn’t good.
“Hard question?” Emily teased.
“I’d love a glass of wine,” Megan said with dignity as she took a seat at the table. “White please.” The red wine had got her into trouble.
“One glass of wine coming up,” Emily said. “Are you tired? You’ve been working nonstop all day.”
“I’m used to it. With my job, it’s all fast-paced. I don’t know any other way.”
“What about your down time? And all the travel you do? That must be tedious at times.”
“I catch up on sleep, watch movies. Read books.” And wrote paranormal romances to fill the lonely hours after she’d discovered that some men dated her so they could say they’d slept with a celebrity. Sometimes, those wolves were difficult to spot, and she’d discovered that to her cost.
“Ah, Jacey, you’re here,” Emily said. “Would you like a glass of wine or a beer?”
“A beer please.” Jacey waited until Emily disappeared before turning to her. His gaze swept her, and her skin tingled as if he’d run his fingers down her spine. “I’d decided I wouldn’t see you again.”
An arrow of hurt struck near her heart, and she stared at him, floundering for a reply.
The silence lengthened until it
made her want to fidget. Her, who’d had all the fidget knocked out of her by bossy TV producers.
“Why?” Not what she’d intended to say, but she craved an answer. Why didn’t he want to see her again? Was it the wine episode? Or the fact she’d foisted herself on his son?
Jacey pulled out the seat opposite her and sat. “Because I wanted to take you home with me, and I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re a public figure. I like my privacy. The last thing I want is to find myself in a ladies’ magazine or the newspaper.”
“Like my previous boyfriends?”
“I looked you up on the internet.”
“You can’t believe everything you read on the web.”
“I know that.” His gaze was steady.
“We could make a pact to have two nights together. Two private nights where no one except us would even know we were together.”
Jacey sucked in a sharp breath, his only reaction to her proposition. Goodness, had she blundered yet again?
“Jacey?”
A slow grin curled across his sensual lips, and those blue eyes of his glowed in a freaky manner. “Do you go around propositioning men, Ms. Saxon?”
“No!” She covered her face with her hands, silently regretting kissing Jacey’s son yet again. A moment of sheer madness. She blamed Janet for planting the younger man idea into her head.
She uncovered her face, placing one clenched hand in her lap and the other palm flat on the tabletop. “I said I don’t go around kissing strange men. It was a mistake and one I bitterly regret. I’d take it back if I could.”
He reached across the table and placed his hand on top of hers. “I believe you.”
“You do?”
“Yes. What do you say about a picnic instead of having dinner here with the nosy locals?”
Megan had already noticed the interest they were attracting with their conversation from those diners who could see them despite the plants. “Won’t that cause more gossip? And won’t the locals talk to anyone who asks?”
My Plan B (Middlemarch Shifters Book 11) Page 6