CHAPTER 11
Megan winced as Pete trounced on her tender toes. Damn, her feet were killing her. As good as they looked, the four-inch designer stilettos adorning her feet were torture. She leaned against the gazebo’s railing to slip them off. The instant relief was nearly orgasmic. Or at least what she vaguely remembered an orgasm was like. It had been a while. A long while.
Balancing precariously against the rail, she lifted one leg and massaged her aching foot. It gave her something to do while pretending not to look for BJ.
BJ.
In the heels, she’d stood a good three inches taller than him. Now that she’d ditched them, he would be taller, but not by much. For some reason, that made her happy. Why should she care about that? Looking down on him should have made her feel powerful and superior. It’s not like she hadn’t used her height to intimidate men before; why not now?
It’s not like it mattered. They weren’t a couple, and they never would be. Because she was already part of a couple. With her son. Adding someone would make them a trio, not a duo. Three-ways with BJ probably meant two hot women. And she wasn’t close to half of that requirement.
The taunts and jibes she’d heard all of her life rang in her ears. Giraffe. Twig. Flat-chested. Should have been a boy. Through the years, she’d managed to turn a deaf ear to most of the verbal assaults, but today they’d all returned with a vengeance. To remind her to stay in her own space. She had no place in the hyper-speed lane men like BJ maneuvered in. It might be exciting, but far too dangerous. Because of Pete.
A hand waved in front of her face. “Hello? Are you in there somewhere?” BJ teased.
His hand gently brushed the tip of her nose. Her body awakened, anticipating his next move. Craving his next move. Ruthlessly, she tamped down her fantasies. She forced a light and cheery tone. “Hey! I guess I was daydreaming.”
“About me?” he asked.
Dear Lord, was she that obvious, or was BJ so arrogant he automatically assumed every woman wanted him? Probably that. And probably because it was true. How could any woman trust him to be faithful when he faced that kind of temptation on a daily basis? The short—and honest—answer was she couldn’t. Yet another reason to watch from the sidelines and not enter the game.
She’d always prided herself on her poker face, but that skill retreated at the onslaught of his smile; the smile that lit up his eyes this time. Were those fireworks exploding in them? Or was that a reflection of the fireworks zinging through her now that he was close?
So much for staying out of the game.
As painful as it might be, she had to nip this right now. She feigned a weariness that wasn’t too far from the truth. “Yes, if you’re the three loads of laundry, the stack of unpaid bills, and the garden full of weeds waiting for me at home. Some of which I hope to conquer after Pete goes to sleep tonight. If I can stay awake myself. Welcome to the glamorous life of a single mom.”
* * *
Never at a loss for words, BJ scrambled for a response. “You shrunk.” Jesus, man, that’s the best you can come up with?
But she had shrunk. Why was he so disappointed? Good question, but he was. At six-foot-one, he was the shortest brother. He couldn’t change that, but he could mitigate it by choosing women no taller than his shoulder. But Megan stood practically nose-to-nose with him. Like the two most important women in his life: Steppie and his mother.
Comparing her to Steppie creeped him out. What upset him more? He was equating Megan with his mom—the best mother a guy could ever hope for.
That his mom towered over his dad by at least four inches had never bothered him; it was the way things had always been. But through the years, he’d learned that it wasn’t normal for a woman to be taller than her man. And in his world, fitting in was all that mattered. Being born a Tobin had assured him a spot with the “in” crowd. To keep that spot, all he had to do was color within the lines. Stay with the herd. Shun outsiders.
And Megan was an outsider.
There it was again, that shy, awkward feeling that had enveloped him as they’d walked toward the church the day they’d met. What the hell was it about Megan that dragged him back to a time before he’d earned his PhD in romancing a woman? Studied all the lessons and passed all the tests. Performed years of successful field trials. All of a sudden, it was amateur hour; he wasn’t sure he’d remember what went where and who did what to whom.
Simply put, she confused him.
“I ditched the shoes. Stephanie gave me her whole collection; pregnancy made her feet grow a size. But I can’t do heels like that anymore either.”
BJ rolled his eyes. Cue the humor. It was a Tobin thing, learned at his dad’s knee so long ago, it seemed as if he’d been born with the knowledge that there was no situation so dire that a well-placed wisecrack couldn’t improve. “Steppie’s feet grew again? Damn, that woman has always had feet like Sasquatch. Do they make shoes in size extra yeti?”
Megan giggled.
Worked like a charm. The BJ is back!
“There was a time comparing Stephanie to Bigfoot would have been one of the nicest things I’d have to say about her, but now I know none of what happened was her fault. Why do you all call her Steppie?”
Wow, talk about being dragged back in time. A flashback that felt more like a flashbang. Steppie was six weeks younger than Quinn, and Little Junior had still been reeling from Quinn’s arrival when he’d first met Steppie. Jesus, he hadn’t thought of himself as Little Junior for nearly thirty years.
“I was a little older than your boy when Steppie was born. I couldn’t quite get my little mouth around Stephanie. It came out Steppie, and the name stuck. But she got me back a few years later when I told everyone I didn’t want to be called Junior anymore so of course, my brothers started chanting ‘Brian Junior’ over and over again, and Steppie started a little sing-song thing with ‘Bee Jay.’ I liked it, and a star was born.”
Pete toddled toward them and reached for BJ. “Daddy!”
BJ froze as if he’d suddenly realized he was naked in public. “Wha...”
Megan’s transformation from pale to red beat the old man’s previous performance. “I’m sorry, I have no idea why he keeps doing that.” She spun Pete in her brother’s direction. “Go play with Uncle Ethan.” She gave him a gentle nudge.
Hmm... a sexy blush, something else to measure by the red scale. Probably poppy. What else would make her blush? Finding out immediately shot to the top of his to-do list.
No! Nyet! Nein! The only red he needed to see was the giant stop sign that should be hovering over her head. Should be but wasn’t.
CHAPTER 12
The photographer wasted no time gathering the troops. “We’re burning daylight.” She pointed at Megan and BJ. “You two and the little lady first. Babies have a way of going from darling to devilish before I can focus.”
Stephanie placed Kegan in BJ’s arms. “I have to hold her again? Jesus, Steppie, you’re killing me here.”
“She’s not gonna break,” Megan whispered. “And as far as I know, you can’t get a baby by holding one.”
No, for babies, you needed sex. Something that existed in her memories. Until she’d met BJ. Now it was all she could think about. Every nerve in her body hummed with a sexual energy that she had no clue what to do with.
To be honest, wasn’t that the real reason she’d kicked off those wickedly delicious shoes? She hadn’t realized how much taller they’d made her, and she hadn’t wanted to bruise his ego, which she wasn’t entirely sure was possible.
Being near him confused her, as if the part of her she was sure had died and been buried with Smitty was yawning and stretching like a sleepy giant rousing herself from hibernation. Something in him was calling to something in her at the most primal level. As ridiculous as that sounded, she was sure of it.
Of course, she rationalized, they had been standing together in front of a priest during Kegan’s baptism. That had to be it. Part of the post-traum
atic stress disorder that occasionally paralyzed her as the result of Smitty’s sudden, violent death. If she’d learned nothing else from her time in therapy, it was that those feelings would pass. They always did.
“Relax and have fun with her,” she chided.
Almost as if Kegan had understood her auntie Megan, she snuggled into the crook of her godfather’s arm and stared up at him with an angelic smile. BJ’s expression softened as he gently swayed back and forth.
If he’d been handsome before, he was off the charts with that gooey look on his face. He hummed a tune that Megan almost recognized but couldn’t quite put her finger on. His voice is amazing. For a short moment, she imagined lying in his arms as he softly sang her exhausted, satisfied body to sleep. The thought shocked and thrilled her.
She pulled herself back to reality. How would Smitty have handled this? After Pete, he would have been used to handling a baby and have been much more relaxed and comfortable with Kegan from the start. More than likely, he would have been standing next to her as the baby’s godfather instead of BJ.
But no, that wasn’t right. If you could believe the diary Smitty’s grandmother had left behind, Smitty had been planning to kill Stephanie to claim her company. He’d died on the way to buy the drugs that would have sealed her sister-in-law’s fate. If Smitty was still alive, he wouldn’t be here because if not for his deception and her lawsuit, Ethan would never have met Stephanie and Kegan would never have been conceived.
“Fun?” BJ’s face scrunched in on itself as if his mother had forced him to eat Brussels sprouts. “Are you kidding me? Babies are a lot of things: messy, smelly, noisy, but not fun, and it doesn’t matter if they belong to someone else. Every damned family portrait they made me hold the newest baby. It made me paranoid.”
Megan shook her head. Which one was the baby here? That was a good idea. Focus on his flaws, not that he had that many. Whiny baby.
Her pitiful attempt at diversion didn’t last as Megan caught his scent— clean and masculine, leathery with a hint of something spicy. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d smelled anything so sensual. Smitty had never worn fragrance of any kind. At the time, it was the only thing about him that had bothered her. Now? Oh, Good Lord, now. The urge to compare Smitty with BJ overwhelmed her. That Smitty came up short—far short—made her feel disloyal to the only man who had ever loved her. Or at least had claimed to. She’d fought long and hard for the right to claim Smitty as her legal husband, and she didn’t intend to let it go easily.
Calm down, girlfriend. At the end of the day, she would still be Mrs. Smith because there was no way BJ would do anything to change that. Nor did she want him to.
But tell that to her body because when the photographer mashed them together, heat gathered in her toes and shot through her body like liquid fire that seared her veins. It raced through her blood, slowing slightly to pool in her most sensitive spot, sending more waves of heat radiating from her feminine core.
“All right, Megan, take the baby from BJ,” the photographer instructed.
She took the baby from him, barely containing the urge to purr as BJ’s arms captured her from behind to cradle Kegan in a second pair of arms. As his right hand and arm snaked under her right arm, he brushed the underside of her breast. Her knees weakened, and if it hadn’t been for his arms, her face would have been on the gazebo floor. She allowed herself to melt into him for an instant, before calling on every ounce of strength in her possession to stand on her own. As she straightened, her neck grazed the beginnings of BJ’s stubble, sending shockwaves sizzling through her and exploding as her neck crashed into his lips. Megan drew a sharp intake of breath then let out a soft groan, nearly incinerated by the heat of that one volcanic action.
She stopped caring what the photographer asked them to do. She simply followed BJ’s lead in this seductive dance.
Megan struggled to call up Smitty’s face from her memory, but the blond in her mind right now was BJ. The very present, very aroused BJ. She wanted to press her backside into him as an invitation, but she couldn’t encourage him. She forced herself to pull away.
It was like ripping a stubborn bandage off a tender wound.
* * *
As the photographer coaxed them closer, BJ closed his eyes and let Megan’s scent fill his head. Mmm...mint and lavender.
He recognized the scent of a popular high-end brand of shampoo. He’d sometimes been forced to use it, or shampoos like it, when a little morning delight had turned into a lot of morning delight, ruling out a trip home to his own shower before heading off to the airstrip. He’d never minded smelling like his latest lady. To him, it screamed, “I got laid!” and kept the hot images fresh in his head. But it didn’t matter what products Megan used, her hair was such a deep, vibrant brunette, shiny, soft, and silky, he itched to run his fingers through it and lock them behind her head to pull her into a kiss he could almost taste. Nearly soundlessly, the photographer captured his desire on her memory card.
He barely heard the photographer instruct Megan to put her head on his shoulder, but his body heard. It reacted immediately to her touch, but that wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was his intense desire to drag her into the bushes and not let her go until neither of them could walk. BJ liked to think he had more class than that, but not today. Today, being near her softened his brain and hardened everything else.
BJ thought the worst was over when the photographer asked Megan to hold Kegan.
He was wrong.
“Now, from the back, sexy man, reach around. Pull her closer to you. Fantastic. Help her hold the baby. Lean in, turn to her.” The photographer clicked away, then turned to Steppie with a wink.
Steppie responded with a thumbs-up. So, she was having fun at his expense. It wasn’t the first time, and most likely not the last time. It shouldn’t surprise him because he would do the same if the situation was reversed. Right now, he didn’t care. There wasn’t any room in his consciousness for anyone or anything other than Megan.
A sudden breeze sent her hair feathering against his face. It was softer than he’d imagined, like the sable coat his grandmother had worn. The one she’d let him nap on until he’d declared himself too old for an afternoon snooze. He savored the hair tickling his cheek before gently pushing it back behind her ear. He traced the outline of her ear, letting his finger caress her jaw before grazing her cheek with the back of his hand. The electricity of the touch raced through him.
The photographer’s movements barely registered.
Not much registered with BJ. Except for Megan. Her aroma was far more complex than he’d first noticed. He leaned in a fraction, his senses inundated by the heady bouquet of her shampoo, soap, and perfume. It was the most intoxicating, most intriguing scent he had ever encountered, and he’d had more than enough experience to qualify as an expert. He knew scents took on subtle differences when combined with individual body chemistries, but this was different. This was all-consuming and arousing. He longed to get drunk on her and stay that way. It was a good thing Megan had the baby because right now, he wasn’t sure he’d remember to hold on.
Every time Megan changed poses, his heat rose a notch until its inevitable manifestation poked her behind.
BJ burned as if a branding iron had marked him where they’d touched. It was a good thing these photos weren’t full length, or he’d have to hide behind Megan whether the photographer wanted him to or not. Pitching a tent while holding a baby was wrong. But he couldn’t control the desire pulsing through him. Not with a beautiful woman in his arms.
And she was beautiful.
Not in the manufactured way most of his past girlfriends had been. Hers was a natural beauty, not the result of endless hours spent with stylists and an extended regimen of lotions and cosmetics. BJ was sure she would look good in anything, or better still, stretched out across his bed wearing nothing more than a satisfied smile.
CHAPTER 13
After a few more pictures with Steppie
and some group shots, BJ was free to find his brothers. “Damn, I need a drink.” It was a poor substitute for Megan’s intoxicating presence, but it would have to do.
BJ paged through the proofs the photographer had emailed him. Whether it was the light or the setting, the photographer had captured more than their faces. She’d caught deep emotions that scared the hell out of him. He could read each and every one of his thoughts in those images.
The three of them looked like a family. Like they belonged together. Forever.
BJ did not do forever. He’d yet to make it to November. Relationships, if you could call what he had relationships, were strictly mid-January to mid-October. Holidays were a bad time to be attached, too many expectations. From Halloween, to his New Year’s Eve birthday bash, through Super Bowl Sunday, BJ was a free agent.
He glanced around the grounds. “Where’s the bar?”
“Sorry, bro, no booze. Anywhere. At all,” Quinn lamented.
BJ nearly panicked. “What the hell? We’re Catholic. Alcohol is practically the eighth sacrament. You know what Dad always says.”
His brothers chanted in unison, “Show me four Catholics, and I’ll show you a fifth.”
And right now, BJ craved a fifth...of anything. The images from those pictures throbbed in his head; BJ wanted alcohol, and he wanted it now. And he wanted it to keep coming. What he’d seen in her face, in his face, scared the shit out of him. He needed to drown the demons before they had a chance to seduce him.
“Not here, not even at communion, big guy. Dry as the desert. Besides, you drank enough the last time Steppie got married to get you through her next ten weddings. We had to put you in a taxi,” Knox reminded him.
BJ winced at the memory. More than two years later, he might still be hungover from Steppie’s first wedding. That day had started with a full wedding mass, a path of rose petals down the aisle leading to the altar, harp music, and some overstuffed woman singing Ave Maria in a key that had given him a headache. But it had been the releasing of the doves at the end that had made him want to bolt.
Fly Boy: A Friends to Lovers Standalone Romance (Tobin Tribe Book 2) Page 5
