Waking Up Married

by Mira Lyn Kelly

  Connor blinked. This was it.

  What he’d been waiting for.

  She was his. Finally.

  She was...crying?

  The hot surge of satisfaction beating its way through his veins froze as he stared at the still-shimmering smudge beneath her eye. The single glittering bead of betraying emotion caught in the dark points of her lashes. Lashes framing those gorgeous, trusting eyes that were staring up at him with—with so damn much—

  “Megan,” he croaked, then muttered a curse, closing his eyes when the pliant, sexy body beneath him went tense.

  No. No, it wasn’t love. She’d told him herself that she didn’t fall in love.

  Neither of them did.

  What he was seeing was affection. The affection he’d been working for, cultivating from day one with the intent of securing her commitment. Only suddenly seeing it shining up at him from those trusting eyes, as his wife offered him the very thing he’d been striving for, granting him the unfettered access to her body that would cement them together forever—he recognized it for what it was.

  Too much.

  She wasn’t supposed to look at him like that. As if she was entrusting him with a piece of her soul. Making herself vulnerable in a way he couldn’t abide.

  “I thought you wanted this,” she said, all the breathless pleasure of only moments ago replaced with uncertainty, hurt and confusion.

  “I do. You know I do...only...” Damn it, he couldn’t believe he was going to say this. Couldn’t believe he had to. Forcing a laugh he didn’t feel, he burrowed his face against the soft shell of her ear. “You’ve been drinking champagne tonight...and after what happened with the wedding...I think we ought to make our most important decisions over coffee and toast.”

  “But—”

  “Shh.” Catching the slender arms that had sought to stop him scant moments ago, Connor pushed them above Megan’s head and held her wrists in the loose clasp of one hand as he reached for the nightstand drawer.

  A moment later, he was buried inside the tight sheath of Megan’s body...working to convince them both to forget about the barriers—both physical and emotional—he’d put between them.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  THOUGH CONNOR HAD MADE a playground of her body, pleasuring her time and again until she didn’t have the strength to do more than melt into the warmth of his body—as the minutes drifted by with the night shadows, the hours with the darkness, sleep didn’t come.

  She’d offered him what he’d been asking for. What he said he wanted.

  She’d offered him herself. Their future.

  And he’d turned her down.

  No. It wasn’t rejection. That was what she’d come to through those sleepless hours. It was protection.

  Connor felt he’d failed her the night they married, and he wouldn’t risk letting her make a decision as monumental as this if there was any chance her judgment might be impaired.

  It wasn’t rejection at all. It was a good thing.

  It was further evidence of the kind of caring she was learning she could count on from the man she married.

  A smile curved her lips as she heard his rapid descent down the stairs. There were definitely worse things than having a man committed to her well-being.

  Checking her reflection in the microwave door, she pushed a few wayward strands of hair behind her ear, then smoothed her hands over her abdomen, desperate to calm the butterflies within.

  With the coffee carafe in hand, she stepped over to the intimate nook and then poured two mugs.

  A second later, Connor rounded the corner, immaculately dressed, every hair in place. He flashed her a smile and grabbed a triangle of toast from the plate she’d set.

  “Perfect, I’m running late.”

  Before she could do more than open her mouth, he’d dropped a kiss on her cheek and thrown back half the coffee.

  Taking the mug with him, he paused at the doorway, his eyes flickering to the carafe in her hand and the half-eaten toast in his.

  Connor met her eyes and she saw the recognition there. The heart that had been too stunned to beat suddenly picked up, warming the chill within her chest.

  “Toast and coffee,” she offered with a small smile.

  Connor set down his mug at the counter, his expression reserved. “Megan, you’ve got to believe me when I tell you how honored I am you feel like you’re ready to make this commitment. And I want it. I do.”

  Except he didn’t. She could see it in the lines of his face. Hear it in the strain of his voice. Feel it in the sinking pit within her belly.

  “I don’t understand.” The words had passed her lips, pleading and broken before she’d had the chance to consider them. Hold them back in an effort to protect her pride. “It sounds like you’re telling me no. Like—”

  Like all the fear and worry she’d reasoned herself out of the night before had been more justified than she’d allowed herself to believe.

  Connor crossed to her, taking her shoulders in his hands. “I want it. But the more I consider the situation, the more important I believe it is you take the full term of the trial to decide.”

  She searched his eyes, refusing to give in to the tears stinging her own. “You were so certain before. You didn’t have a single doubt.”

  “For myself, I don’t, Megan. But for you— Hell. I know how well you’ll fit into my life. I’m not entirely sure you’ve had enough opportunity to see how I’ll fit into yours.”

  She shook her head. “How can you say that? I’ve had two months—”

  “The first one didn’t count. Take two more. Be sure.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead and then set her back, changing the subject as though they’d been talking about the weather. “I’ve got meetings late tonight and first thing tomorrow, so don’t wait up. I’ll probably crash at the office.”

  And then he was gone.

  * * *

  Connor’s fists clenched, his knuckles turning white atop the dark mahogany of his office desk as the image of Megan’s stricken face once again flooded his consciousness.

  Damn it, he’d known better. But he’d been so hell-bent on convincing her to commit, to see he was the man she wanted, he’d in essence become a man he wasn’t. And those tears—that overflowing well of emotion in her eyes—were all the evidence he needed to know the whole married courtship had gotten out of hand.

  A quick knock sounded a moment before his secretary’s head popped past his office door. “Excuse me, Connor, but the conference call with Zurich is starting in five minutes. Did you need me to send those files...?”

  She’d let the words trail off rather than actually saying what they both knew. Those files he’d been working on and had promised to have to her a half hour before. Those files he still hadn’t finished.

  Damn it. This wasn’t the guy he was.

  He needed to get his head on straight. He needed to get some perspective. And he needed to make sure the man he was giving Megan was the man she’d be spending the rest of her life with.

  He was confident she’d still want the marriage.

  Even after a readjustment in expectations, there was no way her plan could compete with his.

  But first things first. The office. That was how it had always been. How it always would be.

  “Stella, see if they can push back a half hour. I’ll get the files to you in twenty. My apologies for the inconvenience. Yours and theirs.”

  Time to get his focus back where it belonged.

  * * *

  The front door sounded with the muffled thud Megan had been pretending not to listen for since the previous morning. Connor had told her he wasn’t coming home, but a part of her had been hoping.

  Waiting.

  Trying not to think of all the sleepless nights she’d spent as a little girl, weighing every creak and groan, listening for a return that wouldn’t come. Because despite Connor’s abrupt change of heart regarding moving forward with their marriage, she knew he was coming ba
ck.

  He wasn’t walking away. He wasn’t leaving her.

  This wasn’t the same kind of blindside. Startling, yes, but not devastating.

  He was looking out for her. Taking the extra time to ensure they didn’t face the same doubts that had been a part of their first month together.

  And now Connor was home. Back. Hanging his coat in the closet and dropping his keys on the table, offering the same greeting he did every night.

  “Hello, Mrs. Reed.”

  Relief surged through her as she closed the distance between them, offering the kiss that had become a part of their routine from nearly the first. Everything was fine. Nothing had changed.

  She wanted to bury her head in the front of Connor’s shirt, press her forehead against the hollow at the center of his chest and give in to the emotion threatening to overwhelm her. She wanted his arms around her, his reassurance hot against her ear. She wanted all his sensible reason, soothing the wild insecurity that had plagued her since the minute he’d walked out the door.

  Only, insecurity was a part of her she couldn’t stand. It was something she didn’t want in this life she was building, and so rather than collapsing against the man she’d literally been aching for, she satisfied herself with the sight of his easy smile. With smoothing the shoulder of his shirt as she asked how his day had been. If he’d slept all right at the office apartment. With his assurance that he’d been fine—had spent so many nights there it felt as much like home as this apartment.

  Then ducking down into his messenger-style briefcase, he pulled out a manila folder, flashing the same smile he’d had walking in the door. The one that had her attention snared, but didn’t last long enough for her to identify why.

  Maybe he was tired, regardless of what he’d said about the comfort of the apartment.

  “Got time to talk honeymoons?” he asked, heading past her to the living room.

  A relieved laugh burst from her lungs as she followed, giddy elation bubbling up within her.

  Nothing had changed.

  She was the one who should have gotten more sleep.

  Settling into the couch, Connor flipped open the folder and then started sorting the brochures within.

  Megan tucked her feet beneath her. “So I see you have some ideas.”

  Only, then she saw what they were...Zurich, Munich, Taiwan.

  “Not so much of a secluded-beach guy, huh?” she asked, a numbness creeping over her with the awareness of what these locales signified.

  Connor shrugged, stacking the brochures in piles and then revising the order. “I like the beach fine, but what I’m thinking is it makes more sense to kill two birds with one stone.”

  Kill two birds...? She looked at the piles again.

  “I need to get out to each of these locations for business in the next month...” Connor left the rest of the sentence to hang as his hand smoothed over her shoulder. “Hey. I know we were talking about making it some romantic-fantasy thing, but after the meetings I had yesterday and today, it’s time to get my head out of the clouds and back to reality. I’m happy to take you on a trip. But practically speaking, one of these places is going to get us the most mileage. I’ll get my meetings taken care of, while you take in the sights. Hit a few tours. Do some shopping.”

  That creeping numbness began to melt off beneath the heat of her rising temper. What in the—?

  He’d been the one to suggest the honeymoon. The romantic destinations. But of course, that had been before she’d offered herself up on a platter. Megan stared back at that easy smile and indulgent expression, feeling for the first time as if the man in front of her was a stranger.

  ...time to get back to reality...

  Was that what this was? Some kind of warning before she committed? Connor’s way of making sure she understood this life ahead of them wasn’t always going to be sunshine and roses?

  “Hey, if you’re dying for some beach time, though, you could take a trip to Hawaii. Or maybe hit a spa somewhere. Take a girlfriend with you.”

  She held up a staying hand. “I get it, Connor.”

  The honeymoon was over. And she was about to see a side of her husband he hadn’t shown her before.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  DONE UP IN ANOTHER DESIGNER gown, Megan sat tucked into the back corner of the limousine, watching the lights and windows pass in a blur. Eyes shifting to the opposite seat, she noted Connor sorting through the work he’d brought along when they’d picked him up from his office a few minutes ago.

  He’d greeted her with a kiss—chaste as it was—compliments on her gown and hair. A question about her day.

  And yet nothing about it seemed real.

  Yes, he listened to her answers, cataloging the information for later use. But the connection they’d shared from the start—that invisible something weighting every comment, every question, every small smile or subtle glance with meaning and value and more—had evaporated with her offer of what he’d sworn up and down he wanted.

  Of course, Connor was still pleasant. Still charming. Still available to answer her questions or provide an hour or so of company at the end of the night. But the interaction was a mere shadow of what it had been in the weeks before.

  Her husband had become the list of attributes he’d provided that first day they spent together.

  Had this been what he’d meant their marriage to be from the start? The romance, the laughter, the intensity of the connection between them...was it all simply Connor reeling her in? Securing her affection and interest so she’d consider his proposition?

  She couldn’t believe it, couldn’t understand why he would have tried so hard to give her a taste of something she wasn’t going to be able to keep.

  Unless it was some sort of test. Connor ensuring she understood just exactly what she was committing to give up?

  No, he wouldn’t be so cruel. She knew him, and he would never intentionally do something to hurt her that way.

  Besides, the kind of connection between them couldn’t be faked. It wasn’t something to manufacture. And it hadn’t been one-sided.

  So what was this?

  Her eyes drifted across the car. Connor’s focus was fixed on the spreadsheets in front of him. His flawless features intense. And yet nothing like the way he’d looked at her.

  Was it possible he’d been as deeply affected by the unexpected connection between them as she and it was just too much...too soon? He simply hadn’t had a chance to get comfortable with it and had forced a step back?

  Maybe all he needed was time.

  And maybe she was a self-deluding fool. But she’d told Connor once he was worth the risk, and having tasted how sweet it could be between them, she still believed that.

  Yes, the idea of the man she married turning off his emotions so suddenly, so completely, was terrifying...but she couldn’t accept Connor was capable of such callous indifference.

  Maybe all he needed was time to adjust. Time and a little space to get his head around what was happening with his heart. And then that undeniable connection would do the rest.

  She could wait. For him...for them, she would be the wife he wanted, until he realized what it was he needed. Yes. They were worth it.

  Megan turned toward the window, blinking back the tears that had come with her revelation and the certain soul-deep knowledge everything was going to be fine.

  Suddenly she felt so much lighter.

  Moments later, the car pulled up outside the gold hotel awning. Connor set his documents aside, touching a finger to the phone at his ear. “We’re at the hotel, so the rest of this is going to have to wait. You around tonight?”

  His eyes flashed to hers, checking to see how she’d take the news he was scheduling a midnight meeting with one of his managers.

  She offered an easy smile, then pulled a small compact from her beaded clutch and shifted her attention to a reflection she couldn’t care less about. Same glossy lips and matte-finished face.

  The
only change was her understanding of what had happened to her marriage through the past week...and how she intended to go on from there.

  Together.

  She could wait for Connor. Because they were worth it.

  Connor let out a short cough a long minute later. “Yeah, sorry, still here. Tonight, then. Talk to you in a few hours.”

  Returning the mirror to her bag, she smiled up at Connor, refusing to acknowledge the slight furrow in his brow or the way his eyes had narrowed on her.

  Sensing something different, maybe?

  A surge of confidence pushed through her veins at the reminder of their connection, the depth of their awareness. Everything was going to work out.

  “Ready?” she asked as the door swung open and the chilly night air slipped around them.

  Connor stepped from the car, leaning back in to take her hand. “Always.”

  * * *

  She was flawless.

  By now Connor should have gotten used to how smoothly Megan fit into the fabric of his life.

  She’d had the entire table eating out of her hand within minutes of their arrival. Her engaging smile and seemingly limitless font of information. The authenticity he’d found so appealing, a magnet to everyone around them.

  Amazing.

  He’d been concerned he’d blown it, letting things get too out of hand emotionally between them—worried there might not be any coming back from that point. But after a few days of testing this more accurate representation of the life they would have together, she’d decided. Tonight in the car...he’d seen it. Acceptance.

  He’d been stunned and relieved. Hell, had he been relieved. Because he didn’t want to give her up. Didn’t want to lose her. Now he just needed to keep his head on straight so he didn’t screw this up.

  A round of laughter sounded from the group where Megan stood, the musical quality of hers standing out to his ear above the rest. Threatening to pull at the place he’d called off-limits.

  Slender fingers fanned wide at her neck as, head tipped back, she enjoyed whatever story Lenny was sharing with his audience.