He watched shadows flit across her face and wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was: That was too damn long to be apart. “Why don’t you come down for tomorrow’s game? It’ll be over by seven, so we could spend all night doing whatever your heart desires.”
His suggestion didn’t have the intended effect. The corners of her mouth turned down, not up. “I wish I could, but tomorrow’s Perry’s last day at the ad agency. They’re throwing him a going-away bash at the Crazy-I at four.”
He found himself frowning with her. “I guess you have to put in an appearance.”
“’Fraid so. He’s been there longer than any of us.” After a pause, she added, “I could come down for Saturday’s game, though.”
He snatched at the suggestion before it slipped through his fingers. Anything to spend as much time as possible with the woman he was quickly coming to love, baby and all. “You could.”
She nodded. “It’s a date.”
“I can get you as many tickets as you want.”
Meg giggled. “How many do I need? I’m only one person.”
He refrained from reminding her of the baby. Junior didn’t need a ticket of his own yet. Instead, he gathered her in a bear hug. “One beautiful, talented person. I can’t get enough of you, Meg Malone.”
“I can’t get enough of you, either.” She was silent for a moment. Matt imagined her reveling in his touch—until she pulled away with a mischievous look in her eyes. “I also can’t get enough of that brother of yours. Think he’d be willing to give me a trim?”
He quashed an irrational surge of jealousy as he considered Meg’s hair. It was starting to look a little ratty again—not that he’d ever say that to her. “I’m sure he will. Want me to call and set something up for Saturday morning?”
She kissed his cheek before settling back into his arms and resting her head on his shoulder. “Give me Stan’s number and I’ll set it up myself.”
He couldn’t help grinning. After this morning’s talk, how could he have already forgotten her stubborn, independent streak? “Sorry. Of course you’re more than capable of making your own hair appointment.”
He felt her body shake with laughter. When she lifted her head to look at him, her eyes danced. “Nice recovery.”
Matt laughed along with her. “I told you I’d try.”
“That’s all I can ask.”
****
Meg scanned the Crazy-I for her colleagues, spotting them at a cluster of tables against the far wall. With Perry right behind her, she headed straight for them.
“There’s the man of the hour,” Mr. Hamilton boomed as they approached the table. “We were starting to think you ditched us.”
Her cheeks heated. Maybe no one would notice in the dimly lit corner. There was no way her boss could know exactly how much she’d wanted to do exactly that.
She didn’t want him to find out, either. This was Perry’s big send-off, and she refused to spoil the festive mood by letting on that she’d rather be on her way to Phoenix.
“Of course not.” Perry took the seat they’d saved for him at the head of the table, leaving Meg to squeeze in next to Jeff. “Meg stuck around to help me clean out my desk. It took longer than I figured it would. You wouldn’t believe how much crap accumulates over the course of seven years.”
Her boss chuckled. “Try me.”
“I believe it,” Jeff piped up from her side. “When I moved here from Buffalo, I had to dump two truckloads of junk at Goodwill—and that was after just two years in one place.”
They continued to make small talk until the appetizers and drinks arrived. Meg laughed when Jeff reached for the nachos right away. His appetite was legendary at Tooley, Hamilton and Smith. Anytime anyone had food at their desks they wanted gone, they left it for Jeff.
Perry helped himself to a generous portion, too. Through a mouthful of cheesy chips, he said, “I’m going to miss the Crazy-I.”
Meg looked around the table. It seemed the gang was all here. Wait a minute… “Where’s Stephanie?”
A couple of people shrugged, but Perry said, “I think she said something about heading to Phoenix this afternoon.”
Two things about that surprised her. One, Steph had skipped out on Perry’s going-away bash to go to the Condors game. Two, Perry had been paying close enough attention to know she was gone and where she was going.
Maybe Stephanie had given up on Perry too soon. Nah—not with him leaving town. Meg wondered if her decision meant Steph and Greg were finally going to end up in bed.
She still planned to razz Steph about missing the party, though. They were meeting up in Phoenix Saturday afternoon for a late lunch before the game.
The festivities wrapped up at around six. Meg headed home to take a relaxing bubble bath, but found herself too keyed up to unwind. Once out of the tub, she checked her watch. It was seven o’clock. Matt had said the game would be over by then.
She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and dialed Matt’s number. When he picked up, she got right to the point. “Party’s over. Want some company?”
His warm laugh filled her ear. “You really have to ask?”
“I guess not. Give me a couple of hours to get there, and then I’m all yours until ten in the morning.”
“Why ten? I don’t leave for the game until four.”
“Stan’s cutting my hair at 10:45.”
Matt chuckled again. “You know, Meg, I never in a million years imagined I’d have to compete with my brother for a lover’s attention.”
It was her turn to laugh. Given his brother’s orientation, it probably was tough for Matt to comprehend. “Sorry, sweetheart, but my hair belongs to Stan. You can have the rest of me.”
His voice dropped an octave. “Don’t worry. I intend to.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Don’t you dare start without me.”
Chapter Thirteen
Stan smiled a greeting at Meg the minute she walked in the door of his salon. “Welcome to Headliners.”
Right away, she loved the place. Everything about it, from its trendy black-and-red décor to the retro eighties tunes coming through hidden speakers, screamed “Welcome to Stan’s place.” She felt as at home here as she did in her own living room—or in Matt’s oversized bed. She didn’t much care for his over-decorated bedroom, though. The leopard-print bedding, soft and warm as it was, would have to go.
She brushed the out-of-place thought aside, for the first time taking note of what Stan was doing. He stood at the sink, his lather-covered hands plunged into the hair of—
Her jaw dropped. Was that J-Lo? She caught the small shake of Stan’s head and decided that it was, and she wanted to remain unrecognized.
Meg took a seat in the waiting area and started flipping though an old issue of People. Having misjudged her travel time, she was fifteen minutes early, so she didn’t expect Stan to stop what he was doing and attend to her.
Once the other woman, definitely J-Lo, left the building, Stan led her back to the same chair. She sat. The fact that her bottom was in contact with the same surface the singer’s legendary booty had just vacated gave her a mild charge.
She grinned at Stan. “Matt wasn’t kidding when he said you were a stylist to the stars.”
Stan clucked his tongue at her as he ran his fingers through her curls. “I don’t know how many times I’ve warned Matty not to use me to pick up chicks.”
She laughed. “I think I’m the only one on the planet a line like that would work on.”
“That’s probably true.” After a pause, during which he continued to examine her hair, he added, “You’re definitely due for a trim. Almost overdue.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
She leaned back in the chair and Stan set to work, shampooing her hair. His fingers danced over her scalp, massaging with such skill that Meg moaned with pleasure. “Your hands are amazing.”
He froze. “Better not let Matty hear you say that.”
Stan started working her scalp again. She didn’t think she was imagining him fumbling just a little more than before. “Haven’t you figured out yet that he’s the jealous type?”
“Matt? Jealous?” That revelation didn’t jibe with what she knew about him. Why, he’d accepted the Pea’s existence with barely a qualm, if she didn’t count his morning-after escape attempt. A man prone to jealous rages wouldn’t be so quick to acknowledge another man’s baby.
“I blame Lana.”
“Lana?” Another woman whose name started with an “L.” It figured. From what he’d told her, Matt wasn’t exactly batting a thousand when it came to L-named girls.
Stan rinsed her hair and returned the chair to a seated position before speaking again. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, because it’s not my story to tell. But I think you need to know. And Matty will never tell you himself.”
Panic rose at the thought that Matt wasn’t what he seemed. She’d already dated one guy who’d fooled her big-time, and didn’t want to repeat the same mistake twice.
Then why’d you fall for a liar?
Meg ignored her conscience’s question. Matt never lied about anything that affected her. “What happened, Stan?”
He toweled her hair dry and prodded her to move over to the stylist’s chair. “Matt met Lana his freshman year of college. They seemed completely in love, and dated for more than a year. His sophomore year, he told me he was planning to propose once they’d both finished their final exams. Before that day could come, he found her in the dugout with the team’s star pitcher, her skirt hiked up to her waist and her panties down around her ankles.”
“Oh, no.” What else could she say? She ached for poor Matt, young and in love with someone who didn’t love him back. Having thought herself in love with Tim, she knew exactly how shitty that felt.
“Oh, yes.” Stan started clipping her curls, his scissors flashing in the mirror as hair piled up on the floor. “Matty was devastated. And you know what he said that bitch had the gall to tell him? She said he had no future in baseball, and she wanted to be with someone who was going places.”
The stylist’s laugh was harsh, but his hands hovered competently over her head as he continued his work. “Matty showed her. He’s the one in the minor leagues with a good chance to advance; the guy Lana dumped him for never picked up a ball after college graduation. Last I heard, he was working at a Home Depot in Peoria, and Lana was on the prowl for some new fool to take care of her. Their divorce isn’t even final yet, the faithless slut.”
His scissors stilled. “Uh-oh.”
“Uh-oh?” Her breath hitched. That didn’t sound promising.
Underneath his artificial tan, Stan’s cheeks pinkened. “I seem to have gotten a little carried away with the shears. I hope you’re ready to go super-short.”
Meg swallowed—hard. Her last experience with super-short hair had been a disaster, and she’d spent agonizing months waiting for it to grow out. She didn’t relish another chance to walk around looking like a human Brillo pad.
Stan must have noticed her discomfort, because he rushed to assure her. “The basic cut’s still the same. It’s just a few inches shorter than last time.” When he grinned, she saw a lot of Matt in him. “Shorter is better for new mothers anyway.”
She sighed. Hello, Brillo. “You’re probably right.”
“I know I’m right.” After a brief pause, he continued. “Texture is key. I’m not letting you leave here without the best texturizing product on the market. My treat.”
She started. To know without asking what she was afraid of, Stan had to be as insightful as his brother. She beamed at him and started to rise from the chair. “I could kiss you.”
He held up his hand. “Don’t you dare, Missy. Did you already forget Matty’s jealous streak?”
Chastised, she sank back into her seat. “Sorry, Stan. It’s just that I have a tough time believing that when I haven’t seen any evidence of it.”
Stan waggled his finger at her. “You don’t want to, either. Take my word for it. That’s one green-eyed monster that’s better to let lie.”
****
After the game, Matt fought his way through the crowd. He headed toward the foot of the bleachers, where he’d asked Meg to wait for him. Stephanie was waiting there, talking to someone he didn’t quite recognize. The figure was familiar, but that hair—
“Meg?” The woman turned to face him, her lips curved into an unmistakable smile. Yep. It was definitely Meg, but her hair was now almost shorter than his. “Stan got a little carried away with the scissors, don’t you think?”
Her smile wavered. “You don’t like it?”
He closed the distance between them and captured her in a hug. No way did he want to be responsible for sending her on the mood-swing roller coaster, even if her new ’do was shorter than he’d expected. “Of course I like it. Surprised me, that’s all.”
A giggle to his left reminded him of Stephanie’s presence. “I had the same reaction. It’ll grow on you once the shock wears off.”
“Stan’s always a genius,” Matt said, more to himself than the ladies. The new cut would take some serious getting used to.
Meg nodded. “He convinced me shorter is better with a baby on the way.”
Stan was probably right about that. Even so, there was something a little off about her reply. She wasn’t telling the whole truth.
Not that she had to. She had every right to keep her secrets.
Besides, he knew how his brother operated. The two of them had likely been chatting away like best friends until Stan realized he’d gone shorter than he’d planned. Then he’d somehow convinced Meg it was her idea.
That was why Stan was so damn good at what he did: He had the charm to make people believe they looked fabulous. And the skill to make it true.
Yes, even if Meg’s hair was shorter than he might like, it still suited her. He’d get used to it. Eventually. “I’m glad the two of you get along so well.”
He was, too. His kid brother had impeccable taste, so the fact that Stan liked Meg was a sure sign Meg wasn’t another in a long line of Matt’s misadventures with the opposite sex.
He tore his eyes away from the newly shorn Meg to Stephanie. “Greg suggested the four of us head out for drinks and dinner.”
She shrugged. “If that’s what you two want—”
Meg quickly interrupted. “Sounds fun.”
Matt threw her a questioning glance, pulling her out of her friend’s earshot. “I thought we were going to spend the night….”
“In bed?” When he nodded, Meg’s laugh bubbled forth. At least she still sounded like herself. “It’s only drinks and dinner, silly. We’ll still have the rest of the night all to ourselves.”
“I suppose.”
She laid a hand on his forearm. “It’ll be well worth the wait.”
He knew Meg was right. A little anticipation never killed anyone. Still, he wanted to engage Greg in a man-to-man chat about his reluctance to be alone with Stephanie.
No time like the present. He gave Meg a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll let Greg know it’s a go. We’ll leave in ten minutes.”
Greg was next to his locker, holding court with Jim and a few of the other rookies. They looked so damn young. Matt wondered if they looked at him and saw someone who was over the hill.
Probably, he thought, waving Greg toward him.
Greg wrapped up whatever he was talking about and sauntered over. “What’s up, old man?”
“Meg and I are on for drinks and dinner with you and Steph.”
“Great. Just let me grab my wallet.”
When he turned to leave, Matt put a hand on his shoulder. “One question.”
“Shoot.”
“Why don’t you want Steph all to yourself?” He paused. “Because I have to tell you I’d rather be alone with Meg than in a crowd with you.”
Greg’s eyes were suddenl
y wary. “You really want to know?”
“Wouldn’t have asked otherwise.” The possibilities were intriguing.
“I really like Steph and don’t want to mess things up by rushing into bed.”
Matt respected that, even if he suspected Stephanie didn’t. He’d frustrated enough females over the years to recognize one.
Still, his mind flashed back to snatches of locker room conversation. He fixed Greg with what he hoped was a fatherly stare. He might as well take advantage of his status as the Condors’ “old man” to dispense advice.
“If you want to keep from messing things up, I’d stop telling everyone in earshot about how you ‘hit that’ last night.” How Greg had made it to his twenties without learning that already, Matt hadn’t a clue.
Greg had the grace to blush, but his words weren’t the least bit apologetic. “I have a reputation to uphold.”
“Kid, you should be worried about your reputation with women, not the guys in the locker room.”
“But everyone knows you and Meg are together.”
“Not because I’ve been bragging in the locker room.” He couldn’t think of a single person he’d talked to—except Dave, and Dave kept things to himself.
“So how do they know?”
Despite what he’d just advised Greg, he couldn’t help doing just a little bragging. He was human after all. “Kid, when a woman’s well-loved, everyone knows.”
Confusion was plain on Greg’s face. “Wait a minute. I thought you said—”
Matt held up a hand to stop him from finishing the sentence. “Truth is the only defense.”
****
Meg was elbow deep in bread dough when her cell phone rang a few weeks later. Figuring it was Matt, calling to tell her he made it back to Phoenix, she disengaged from the dough and wiped her hands on her apron.
“It’s about time. I’ve been waiting for your call.”
But the voice on the other end of the line wasn’t Matt’s. “If I’d known you’d be fired up to talk to me, I’d have called sooner.”
Unforgettable Heroes II Boxed Set Page 186
