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“You could at least pretend you’re happy to be alone with me.”
Happy was hardly the word she would use to describe how she was feeling. Surprised. Confused. Aroused. Oh, yeah, definitely aroused.
What was it about this man that sent her hormones rocketing like Fourth of July firecrackers? And all he’d done was put his hands on her shoulders. Okay, his hands were moving now, stroking down her arms, and slowly upward again, sending tingles through her whole body.
“Except that we’re not entirely alone,” he admitted softly.
“What?” She knew it was his proximity that was wreaking havoc with her ability to concentrate on his words, the tantalizing scent of him teasing her nostrils, taunting her hormones.
“Your cousin Camilla. She’s standing next to that potted palm beside the door, pretending not to watch us.”
“That sounds like something she would do,” Megan admitted, more than a little irritated that her cousin was lurking in the shadows, probably waiting to catch Gage alone so she could hit on him.
“Maybe we should give her something to talk about.” He lowered his head toward her.
“I appreciate what you’re doing,” she said. “But I think—”
“Stop thinking,” he said, and brushed his lips gently against hers.
So gently, and so briefly, that Megan wasn’t sure the contact had even happened.
“Just for two minutes,” he said, “stop thinking, stop worrying about your family and concentrate on this.”
Then he kissed her again—and she melted like the chocolate fondue on the dessert table.
She’d been kissed before. She’d been touched and groped and she’d had sex. She might not be a woman of vast experience, but she wasn’t innocent. At least, she hadn’t thought so.
But she’d never been kissed like Gage was kissing her.
She could taste the beer he’d drank, and something else—an elemental male flavor that went straight to her bloodstream and made her head spin and her knees tremble.
Then his hands slipped around her waist, drew her nearer. She could feel the heat and strength of his palms even through the fabric of her dress, and she found herself wondering how they would feel on her bare skin. Even knowing it was a fantasy that could never come true didn’t stop her from thinking about it, wanting it, wanting him.
Her lips parted on a sigh, and his tongue dipped inside. A lazy stroke, gently teasing, hotly tempting.
This was wrong. She shouldn’t be doing this. She certainly shouldn’t be pouring her heart and her soul into a kiss that wasn’t intended to mean anything. Or maybe it was just long-dormant hormones reawakened. Whatever the reason, Megan was helpless to resist the seduction of his kiss.
She felt as if she was drunk on champagne, though she’d only had a single glass of wine. Her heart was pounding, her blood was pulsing and her body was filled with a yearning she didn’t think she’d ever experienced before.
His hands slid slowly up her back, then down again.
It had been so long since she’d had a man’s hands on her, and Gage’s felt good, so good.
And then his hands stopped moving and his lips eased away from her.
“Well, that should give your cousin something to think about.”
Cousin?
Megan blinked the clouds from her eyes.
Right. He’d kissed her because he knew Camilla was watching them, because he was helping her fool her family into believing they were really a couple. But for a minute there, it had seemed so real, so perfect. And she should have known it was too perfect to be real.
She took a step back, giving herself some physical space while she drew in a deep breath and reined in her rampant hormones.
Thank goodness it was only an act—she wouldn’t stand a hope of resisting him if he ever truly turned his attentions in her direction.
“Meg?”
She pushed those thoughts aside and turned her attention back to her date.
“Are you ready to go back inside?” he asked.
She managed a smile. “Sure.”
Gage was careful not to touch Megan as he followed her back into the dining room, careful to remind himself that the kiss was just for show. A calculated move to convince Megan’s nosy cousin to mind her own business. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. And it sure as hell wasn’t supposed to leave him wanting a lot more.
But looking at her now, at her flushed cheeks and swollen lips, he couldn’t deny the want and hunger that stirred inside of him. Completely unexpected—and undeniably real.
“I seem to recall something being said about food,” he commented, as if the ache in his belly could be assuaged by some crackers and brie.
“Hot and cold hors d’oeuvres,” Megan said, glancing over at the crowd around the buffet table. “Or we could skip out and go somewhere else to grab a burger and fries.”
He smiled at the hopeful tone in her voice. “What would your sister say about you skipping out?”
“It’s not like I would tell her.”
“Don’t you think she’d notice?”
She sighed. “Yeah, Ashley probably would.”
He heard what she didn’t say—Ashley would notice but no one else would.
She was obviously used to being overlooked, ignored. And he suspected that she might even prefer it that way. Still, it had to rankle a little that most of her family seemed to think she was below their notice. It certainly rankled him on her behalf.
He frowned at that, recognizing that he was venturing into dangerous territory with Megan. Or maybe it wasn’t dangerous territory at all. Maybe the urge to protect her from the criticisms and insensitivity of her family was similar to what a brother would feel for his sister.
Not having a sister, he couldn’t say for sure. But he did know that he would never have kissed a sister the way he’d kissed Megan. And he wouldn’t be thinking about kissing her again, wanting to devour the softest, sweetest mouth he’d ever tasted. No, it definitely wasn’t a brotherly thing, and he had no idea how to handle this new and unexpected complication.
He took a plate and began piling it with fancy little appetizers that were more likely to whet than satisfy his appetite. But it was safer to stay here, surrounded by Megan’s family and friends, than to be alone with her right now. “I’ll take a rain check on the burger, if that’s okay.”
Megan was silent as she studied the display of coconut shrimp. Or maybe she was silent because Vivian had joined the line at the buffet table and she didn’t want her elderly aunt overhearing their conversation—a suspicion that proved true when they were seated and she finally responded to his question.
“I appreciate that you’re here with me,” she said. “But we both know that you only agreed to come because you felt as if you owed me a favor. Now you don’t.”
“And your point?” he prompted, popping a stuffed mushroom in his mouth.
“My point—” she swirled a carrot stick in the dip she’d spooned onto the edge of her plate”—is that there’s no reason to talk about rain checks because there’s no reason for us to ever see one another outside of the lab again.”
“What if I want to see you again?”
She bit off the end of the carrot, then stared at him, clearly baffled by the possibility. And he found himself again mesmerized by those wide, violet eyes.
She chewed, swallowed, then finally asked, “Why would you?”
He fought against a smile. “Forgetting the why for a moment, it seems that I do.”
She considered that while she nibbled on the rest of her carrot stick.
“I’m not easy,” she told him. “Despite the way I wrapped myself around you on the terrace, I’m not going to sleep with you.”
He’d never known a woman who just blurted out what she was thinking the way that Megan did. After dating so many women who played mind games or worked personal agendas, her forthrightness was refreshing—and only one of the things he was beginning to like about her.
“I’d say the wrapping was mutual, and while I certainly wouldn’t object to more of the same, it wasn’t my plan to take you to bed.”
Of course, that hadn’t stopped him from thinking along those lines when her body was pressed against his, but the fact that they worked together complicated the situation immeasurably. Not to mention that she could be exactly what he needed to secure the promotion that his father had dangled in front of him like a proverbial carrot.
But as he watched the little furrow between her brows deepen, he couldn’t resist saying, “Not yet, anyway.”
Chapter Six
Megan was enjoying her first cup of coffee and the quiet solitude of the morning when she heard a key in the lock. A glance at the clock revealed that it wasn’t quite ten—earlier than her sister usually came home after spending the night with her fiancé, and a lot earlier than she would have expected the morning after their engagement celebration.
And when Ashley came into the kitchen, Megan noticed that Paige was right behind her.
“Why are you home so early? And what are you doing here?” The first question being directed to her sister and the second to her cousin.
“Are you kidding me?” Paige responded first. “I saw the lip-lock on the terrace.”
“And I want to hear all the details,” Ashley demanded.
Megan took a long sip of her coffee, hoping the over- size mug hid the flush in her cheeks. “It was an Academy-worthy performance, wasn’t it?”
Her sister scowled as she put on the kettle for the tea she favored. “What do you mean ‘performance’?”
“Gage was there, pretending to be my boyfriend,” she reminded her sister and cousin. “He thought a kiss might further the illusion.”
“A kiss is a way of testing the waters,” Paige said. “Like dipping a toe in the ocean. You and Gage—that was a tsunami.”
“It really wasn’t that big of a deal,” she denied, while secretly agreeing that in Gage’s arms, she’d felt as if she’d been swamped by an enormous wave. The heat and hunger had crashed over her, dragging her into depths that were so far over her head she wasn’t sure she would ever find solid ground again.
But it had only been one kiss.
Despite having alluded to wanting to do that and a whole lot more, when he took her home, he simply walked her to her door, took the keys from her hand to unlock it for her, then stepped back and said “Good night, Megan.”
And she’d gone inside alone, uncertain whether she should be relieved or disappointed.
“Then you’ve been getting a lot more action than I have.” Paige’s complaint drew her attention back to the present. “Because I got seared from the heat standing on the edge of the terrace.”
“And I missed it,” Ashley grumbled.
“You’ve got your own hot-and-heavy romance,” Paige reminded her. “I’m the one who needs to live vicariously.”
“Things didn’t go well with Ben last night?” Megan asked, anxious to change the topic of conversation.
Her cousin shrugged. “He’s sexy and sweet, but there just isn’t any zing.”
Before last night, Megan wouldn’t have had a clue what she meant. She’d been attracted to other men, had experienced the stirring of desire, but nothing in the category of zing. But after last night, after being held in Gage’s arms, she definitely knew about zing.
When Megan came into the lab Monday morning, Gage noted that she’d gone back to wearing her glasses.
And the ponytail and baggy clothes.
He was a little disappointed, but not really surprised. He wasn’t sure if she felt more comfortable dressed that way, or if she deliberately downplayed her natural attractiveness so that she didn’t draw attention to herself.
If he had to guess, he would say it was the latter, and he couldn’t deny that her efforts were mostly successful. He certainly hadn’t taken much notice of her prior to their chance encounter at the shopping mall.
But now that he knew her a little better, was aware of the subtle curves hiding beneath her clothes and the unexpected passion simmering beneath her cool demeanor, he knew he would never be able to look at her the same way again.
He would never be able to look into her eyes and not remember how they’d gone all misty and soft—like lavender fog—when he’d held her in his arms. And he’d never be able to look at her mouth and not remember how soft and sweet it tasted, and how avidly it had responded to his kiss.
But if memories of their kiss had tormented him throughout the rest of the weekend, Megan gave no indication that it had even happened. As always, she was the consummate professional at work. She performed the tasks that were assigned to her, answered questions when they were asked and generally continued with her duties as usual. She never sought him out, never initiated conversation, and not once did he catch her looking in his direction—as he found himself looking in hers, a lot.
He let her continue to ignore him—as it was obvious to him that’s what she was doing—for three whole weeks. On Friday at the end of the third week, as they were clearing up in preparation of leaving for the weekend, he finally approached her.
Megan looked up from the stack of files she was sorting. “I can finish up here if you have to go.”
“Go where?”
She shrugged. “It’s a Friday night. I thought you might have plans.”
He shook his head. “The only women I’ve seen since we’ve started prepping for this trial are the clinical subjects. And you.”
“Did you lose your little black book?” she teased.
A few weeks earlier, he couldn’t have imagined that she would have teased him about anything, and he wouldn’t have guessed that she had a sense of humor. But he knew her better now—and still not nearly as well as he wanted to know her.
“It’s a BlackBerry,” he teased back, and earned one of those rare, shy smiles. “But the only reason I’m anxious to get out of here tonight is that I’m hungry.”
“Me, too,” she admitted.
“Got any plans for dinner?” he asked, deliberately casual.
“Oh, um, no,” she said. “Nothing specific. But I wasn’t fishing for an invitation or anything like that.”
“I know,” he said. “But I’m in the mood for a burger and I have a rain check to cash in.”
Megan finished unbuttoning her lab coat, hung it on the hook by the door. “Actually, I’m—”
