The Cost of Happiness: A Contemporary Romance

by Braden, Magdalen

  Dan—nothing about what had happened in bed had seemed silly. And it had been sexy. Still, Meghan had fallen back on old habits, tricks that worked with her past lovers.

  She tasted the wine. It was actually quite good.

  Dan came back with the food. It smelled garlicky and seductive. Her stomach growled.

  “I’m sorry.” Meghan hurried forward. “I should have been helping set the table or something.”

  He placed the plastic bag on the dining table, then started collecting dishes and silverware. “Go ahead and unpack those, okay?”

  Meghan sat. “Smells good. What did you get?”

  “Seafood Fra Diavolo, chicken piccata, and eggplant parm.” He joined her at the table and set two places. He’d even brought over serving spoons. “I wasn’t sure what you liked.”

  “Well, I like all three, so you picked well.” Meghan watched him go back for the wine and his glass. He poured more into her glass then sat down before lifting his for a toast.

  “To fairness and justice,” he said.

  She clinked her glass against his. “Why are we drinking to abstract concepts?” For a moment, Meghan had a flash of panic that he was going to talk about her own indictment, but she pushed the fear aside.

  “Someone asked me a few days ago what my goals were. I had to think about that.” He pushed one of the tin foil containers over to her. “For years, it’s been to become the best prosecutor I could be. Then one day I looked at Blackjack—”

  “Wow, do people actually call him that?”

  Dan shrugged. “Not to his face. He’s not a guy you can tease very easily. Behind his back, though? Sure, we mocked his telegenic charisma.”

  Meghan couldn’t imagine mocking Jack McIntyre, but she just flexed her eyebrows in a “wow, okay” gesture.

  Dan refilled her glass before continuing. “Anyway, I realized I was never going to do his job better than he does. So I had to ask myself what I actually enjoyed about my job.”

  “And?”

  “And it was securing fair and just results. Only in white-collar crimes, it’s never entirely fair or just. Or maybe I got tired of being the prosecutor.” He pushed the seafood over toward her. “Too peppery?”

  Meghan spooned some onto her plate and took a cautious bite. “Mmm. Spicy but not too hot. Okay, so how does that result in you being a partner at a fat-cat firm like Fergusson?”

  “Complex litigation. Wally courted me for their criminal defense department and I blew him off. Then he called to say Georgia was leaving to go to Washington, so I lobbied hard for the job.”

  “But some people would say you’re protecting huge corporations from the consequences of their actions.”

  “Are we? As far as I can see, we’re doing our job to ensure that the plaintiffs get the right amount.” He waved his fork at her. “Most of these class action lawsuits result in no money for the actual plaintiffs. Or it’s a pittance, a coupon, a tiny amount off their next bill. How does that help the plaintiff?”

  “Okay, so the massive classes are kind of pointless, but surely it’s better that plaintiffs sue to keep companies like ProCell honest than have a world in which corporations can collude to steal a penny a month from each of their millions of customers.”

  Dan finished a mouthful of the seafood, then drank some wine. “Yes, it is better. But I hate it when money goes to the plaintiffs’ lawyers. They profit disproportionately for the work they do.”

  Meghan smiled and shook her head. “And that’s your goal? To vanquish the plaintiff’s bar one class action at a time?”

  He looked at her, his eyes the color of a July noon sky. “No. Not tonight. Tonight, my goal is to make you have one climax after another.”

  “Dan…” She stopped.

  He just shook his head. “Have a bit more wine.”

  She looked at her glass, which was nearly empty. She had a nice buzz on, if that was the correct term for this loose and easy feeling. “I think I’ve had enough.”

  He ran his hand along her thigh, from her knee toward her hip, his fingertips grazing the elastic around the leg of her panties. “Have you? Had enough wine, I mean.”

  It was like getting mesmerized by a force of nature, the tides maybe, or a fast-moving storm. All Meghan could do was moisten her suddenly-dry lips and nod.

  Dan pushed his chair back from the table. “C’mere.” He tugged on her hand to get her to straddle his hips, her arms going instinctively around his shoulders.

  She leaned into him, her forehead touching his. The wine buzz had spread to her extremities. She could feel it in her hands and fingers, her toes, and yes, damn him, in her pussy.

  “Oh, Meghan, you’re so lovely. And generous. I loved fucking you, filling you, holding you in my arms,” he murmured. “You have to let me get you past this thing.”

  When she kissed him—she really had no idea how else to respond—his mouth tasted just a bit spicy. It made her bolder, pulling herself closer to him. She could feel his hands creeping up her back, inside his shirt. And his erection pressing against the inside of her right thigh.

  She wriggled closer, then tugged on his T-shirt to get it off him. She wanted to feel his skin.

  He laughed. “Time for dessert.”

  “There’s dessert? But I thought—”

  Dan slid her carefully off his lap until she was standing. “Well, time for my dessert.”

  Oh.

  Oh wow.

  He led her back to the bedroom, turning lights off on his way. The bedroom was dimly lit—he must have turned on a bedside lamp when he got dressed—and he didn’t turn that light off.

  He pushed her gently toward the bathroom. “Just don’t get undressed.”

  She frowned. “I’m hardly dressed as it is.”

  “I’m thinking of all those buttons, undoing them one by one.”

  When Meghan came back to the bedroom, Dan had stripped down to his boxers again. “You’re pretty,” she said. “Wait. That didn’t come out right. You’re—you’re handsome. I meant that your chest—” She waved. “You’re pretty.”

  He held out his hand. “Thank you. You’re pretty too.”

  She glanced down at her legs. “I’m too thin.”

  His hands framed her face, lifting her chin until she could see his face. “You’re lovely. And you think too much. I want you to focus on a blank white wall.”

  Meghan opened her mouth, ready to point out that his walls were a milky-coffee color. He kissed her, slipping his tongue in and making her forget what she’d been about to say. He was a really good kisser.

  Finally he pulled away. Meghan wasn’t sure she could stand up straight, what with the intoxicating combination of wine and his lips.

  “Buttons,” he reminded her. One by one, he’d said. She watched as his fingers started right over her breastbone. Then between her breasts, and the one below that, and another, and another, and then finally the shirt gaped open. She expected him to peel it off her, but he didn’t.

  He kissed her throat, below her chin. Then down to the slight bulge of her breastbone, where he veered off to one side, pushing the placket of his shirt with his cheek. Then he was kissing her breast, her nipple, oh God that felt good, back to the middle and on to the other breast and its nipple.

  When he stood up straight, the shirt was hanging off her elbows, she was hanging off him, and her sex throbbed like a bass drum. How had he done all that?

  “Blank white wall, remember?”

  Meghan really had no idea what he was talking about. She nodded obediently.

  He lowered her slowly onto the bed, relieving her of the shirt and her panties in the process. It was a relief to be naked, but she couldn’t quite work out why. Then he parted her legs and she remembered the bass drum.

  The ceiling was blank and white. Meghan focused on that as he touched her, opened her, felt how wet she was. Blank. White. Wall.

  Then he kissed her sex and it was like her entire body reacted.

  Blank
white wall. Blank white wall.

  Suddenly she relaxed into it. It no longer felt odd, to have Dan using his lips and tongue on her clit. It felt good. Oh, there was the bass drum again. And she wasn’t quite as relaxed, only this time it was like she was climbing, she had a goal in mind, she really wanted to get there and he was helping.

  She closed her eyes, looking at nothing but feeling everything. The sheets scrunched in her fists, Dan’s hands stroking her legs, his mouth on her clit. Then he inserted a finger, and a second, in her pussy. The sensation of being filled merged with the pressure on her clit, helping her climb even higher.

  Before she could know what was happening, she tumbled over into her orgasm. She spasmed around his fingers, the release going on and on until finally she was spent.

  When she opened her eyes, Dan was lying beside her, on his side, his head on his hand. His free hand caressed her arm, which was curiously boneless. She smiled.

  “Nice?” he asked.

  She took a deep breath. “Very. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “I don’t see how that can be true.” Her lips made a sloppy smile, as though her facial muscles couldn’t quite manage a full grin.

  “Ever see someone come?”

  She shook her head.

  “It’s a trip,” he said. “And to know you did that, that you made that happen, is quite a rush.”

  Meghan considered that. “Could I do that for you sometime?”

  “It would be my pleasure,” he said with a grin.

  Her eyes closed very slowly. “Fallacy somewhere,” she murmured as she fell asleep.

  Dan woke early, pleased to find her snuggled up next to him. So self-sufficient at work but in sleep, Meghan proved to be almost clingy. He liked it.

  But once awake, he had to get up. He slipped out from under her arm, pushing a pillow where his body had been. She hugged the pillow close.

  A quick shower and shave, jeans and a T-shirt, and coffee. In that order.

  While the coffee was percolating, Dan tidied away the detritus from last night’s dinner, grinning as he remembered how things had gone. Okay, he admitted it. He was seriously pleased with himself.

  “I should be getting home,” Meghan said as she came into the living room. She started to gather up the office clothes she’d worn the day before. Damn but his shirt looked good on her.

  She reached under the sofa for her second shoe, giving him a delightful view of her ass.

  “What’s your rush. I actually do know how to cook breakfast.”

  “You must have plans, errands, things I’m keeping you from doing?”

  “It’s not even nine. Why don’t you have a shower and change into clean clothes. Did you bring any jeans to Massachusetts?” He pointed at her carry-on suitcase.

  “Oh. Right. I’d forgotten.” She looked flustered, as though she couldn’t figure out how to deal with the clothes in her arms and the suitcase waiting patiently in the hallway.

  Dan took pity on her. He retrieved the case and wheeled it to his bedroom, laying it on the bed so she could get at things more easily.

  The sound of the shower reassured Dan that she was still there, so he started to get ingredients out of the fridge. Apart from toast and coffee, he had exactly one dish he could make with confidence. He glanced at the clock. He had to assume Meghan was as efficient in the shower as she was in the office, so he’d better get going.

  The frittata went under the broiler just as she came out of the bedroom. She was rubbing a towel on her hair. She folded the towel and laid it carefully over the back of the sofa. She ran her fingers through her hair, which dribbled damply over her shoulders.

  She wasn’t trying to look sexy and enticing, but something about her arms pulled her T-shirt tight against her breasts, outlining her nipples faithfully. Dan’s mouth felt dry for a second before he had to swallow. He was literally salivating over this woman.

  “What is that? And is it done? I’m starving.”

  “What—? Oh, the frittata. Yes, it’s done.” He yanked open the oven door. Thank God she’d said something or they’d have been picking burnt cheese off the eggs.

  He brought the plates over to the table.

  She stared at her plate as though she’d never seen food before. “Wow. You made this? I mean, of course you did. I’m just impressed.”

  “Don’t. It’s the only thing I can make. Shana enjoyed cooking more than—” He stopped suddenly and plopped down onto his chair.

  Meghan took a sip of her orange juice. “Shana?”

  Dan could feel his cheeks heating up. “Yeah. My girlfriend in law school. We tried to make a go of it for a couple of years after law school, but…” He picked at his frittata. “I should probably tell you about her. I mean, about our relationship.”

  She put a hand over his. “I didn’t expect you to be a virgin, you know. In fact, I’m glad you weren’t.”

  “No, of course not. But you have a right to my honesty, and I just don’t know when’s the best time to mention stuff like this.” If she pressed, he’d explain the complication that Shana represented.

  Meghan shrugged. “Hey, the past is in the past, right?”

  Dan considered this. Just a few more weeks and that would be true enough. Okay. “Yes. Yes, the past is in the past.” He took a deep breath. “Anyway, she did all the cooking. But I liked to make her brunch, so I had to learn something I could make in lots of different ways. It would have been omelets except they’re too fussy. This is easier.”

  “I can’t cook,” she admitted. “This tastes fantastic.”

  When she smiled like that, Dan felt heroic just for making breakfast.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes. “Do you want to stay for the morning? I’ll let you have the Times crossword,” he offered.

  She stiffened. Not a lot, just a tension about her shoulders. She stopped eating but didn’t look up.

  Dan waited, hoping she’d stay for the day, maybe even overnight again.

  “You’ll let me do the crossword?” She flicked him a look—uncertain, anxious.

  He nodded solemnly.

  “Okay.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kassie must have been listening for the sound of the key in the lock because her head popped out before Meghan had even opened the door to her apartment.

  “Tell me all about it,” Kassie said.

  “What?”

  Kassie propped her hip against the doorframe. “You’ve been gone for days. Somewhere nice?”

  “Massachusetts.” Then, before Kassie could ask the next question, Meghan added, “For work.”

  “Oh. Bummer.”

  “Do you want to come in for a few minutes?” The invitation was out of Meghan’s mouth before she could consider whether it was even a good idea.

  “Hell yeah. Let me get my beer. D’you want one?”

  “No thanks.” For some reason, Meghan thought of the wine Dan had served with dinner the previous night. She’d been more abstemious than on Friday, but still he’d had no trouble bringing her to—

  “Okay, I’m all set.” Kassie followed Meghan into her apartment. She looked around. “Wow, it’s so…tidy.”

  “Empty, you mean.”

  “Well, um, spartan?”

  Meghan wheeled her suitcase into the bedroom, Kassie trotting along like a friendly dog. She plopped herself on the bed while Meghan started to unpack.

  “See? You’re so sensible. Black trousers go with everything,” Kassie said as Meghan pulled out another pair. “But you should consider dark brown as well. That would go with all those lovely russet tones I bet you have, what with your coloring.”

  Meghan laughed. “I have what’s on sale, pretty much regardless of color.”

  “No. I know you’re kidding.” Kassie jumped off the bed and joined Meghan in the tiny walk-in closet. “See? No pastels. You must have good instincts—they’d look insipid on you.”

  Meghan stopped, the laundry hamper li
d in one hand and soiled clothes in the other. She looked at her blouses, hung carefully on padded hangers to prevent creases. She’d never considered it, but Kassie was right. No pastels. “Hunh. I never noticed.”

  “Told you.” Kassie went back to the bed, where she pulled the pillows out from underneath the sheet and arranged them behind her back. “So who’s the man?”

  Meghan froze. “Excuse me?”

  Kassie pulled the elastic off her ponytail, then bundled her hair into a messy bunch and wound the elastic around that. “You slept with someone.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Your hair.”

  No way. “Okay, explain that to me. What about my hair? It’s clean.”

  “Of course it is,” Kassie agreed soothingly. “It’s also wavy. You didn’t pack your own hair dryer, so that tells me you used the one at the hotel. But not this morning. So you weren’t at the hotel this morning. You were at some guy’s apartment, and he doesn’t own a hair dryer.”

  “Have you thought about going into criminal investigations? You’d be good at it.”

  Kassie laughed. “Only if the crimes can be solved by attention to details of clothes or hair. I’m only clever about the shallow stuff.”

  Meghan chuckled as she zipped the empty suitcase and lifted it onto its shelf in the closet. When she returned to the bedroom, Kassie shifted over and patted the mattress next to her. Meghan shrugged and settled in next to Kassie. They sat with their backs to the wall.

  “The man?” Kassie prompted.

  A sudden desire to talk to someone pushed at Meghan, like a wave trying to knock her over. So odd and not something she was familiar with. More firsts.

  She took a deep breath. “His name is Dan. He’s a lawyer at the firm. He just started—wow, can it really only be three weeks ago?”

  “You work fast, girlfriend.”

  Meghan nodded. “I guess so. Or he does. I’m not sure who made the first move.”