by Sherri Hayes
Megan nodded. She tried to smile, to let him know she was really fine, but it was beyond weak.
When she glanced across the table after her brief exchange with Trent, she noticed Paul watching her. He was observant as well, but in a different way. But the look on his face wasn’t that of a detached cop. Maybe Paul remembered more about last night than he was letting on. He’d never minded Trent flirting with her before.
Seconds after that thought crossed Megan’s mind, Paul’s expression cleared, and he turned to engage his father in conversation. It was as if nothing had happened. Whatever Paul’s reaction to Trent’s private chat with her was, he seemed to have successfully tucked it away.
The rest of the meal was relatively uneventful. That is, if you discount Gage not being able to take his hands off her sister. Before Gage, she had never witnessed Rebecca giggle like a schoolgirl. Megan had no idea what Gage was doing underneath the table, but whatever it was had her sister in a very good mood. It wouldn’t surprise Megan if they were late to check out of the hotel.
As everyone was saying goodbye to one another and preparing to set off, Marilyn walked over to give Megan a hug. “You take care of yourself, and if you need extra time to study, you make sure to speak up.”
Megan didn’t know what to say. Her mother had never been nurturing in the traditional sense—not nurturing at all, really. It had always been Rebecca who watched out for Megan—always her sister who made sure Megan had something to eat, or gave her that disapproving look when she made the wrong decision. When Megan was a teenager, she had sometimes loathed her sister for it. Okay, sometimes she still did, but after spending so much time with Chloe, Megan was beginning to understand.
“Call me when you get there?” Megan glanced over to find her sister standing next to her. Marilyn backed away, giving the sisters a moment together to say their farewells.
“Sure.”
Rebecca frowned. “I’m sorry if I overstepped my bounds last night, but I always worry about you. I can’t help it.”
Megan had completely forgotten about what her sister had said the night before. Ever since she’d strolled into Paul’s room last night to check on him, she’d had other things on her mind. “I’m good. Really.”
“You know you can talk to me, right?” Rebecca paused. “And I’ll try to just listen and not tell you what to do.”
That made Megan chuckle.
Rebecca pursed her lips. “You’re right. That’s not going to happen. I can try, though.”
Megan gave her sister a big hug. “I love you, Becca.”
“I love you, too, Megan,” Rebecca whispered as she hugged Megan back.
Gage came up beside Rebecca, and Megan released her hold on her sister. It took all of two seconds for Gage’s arm to wrap firmly around his wife’s waist, his hand resting on her barely visible baby bump. “Did you get some rest last night?”
Megan rolled her eyes. “Not you, too?”
He feigned innocence. “What?”
She shook her head, leaned up to give her brother-in-law a kiss on the cheek, and then turned to go. “Take care of my big sister.”
“Megan?”
Megan should have known Rebecca wouldn’t let her go that easily, so she glanced over her shoulder, and winked. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Taking full advantage of the embarrassment she’d caused her sister, Megan walked swiftly across the room to where Paul was standing with Chloe and his parents. Before she could say anything, Paul did.
“Are you about ready to go?”
“Yep.”
Paul said a quick goodbye to his parents, and allowed Chloe some last minute hugs to her grandparents, before the three of them headed for the car. He remained silent until he had Chloe buckled into the backseat, and was situated behind the wheel.
He maneuvered the car out of the parking lot and onto the road, driving toward the interstate. They had roughly a two-hour drive in front of them. Normally their trips between Ohio and his home in Indianapolis were filled with conversation. Sometimes they’d play I Spy with Chloe, if her nose wasn’t in a book or playing with her Barbies. During those periods, she and Paul would normally pass the drive chatting about whatever came to their minds. Once, they’d ended up discussing the age-old argument of which came first, the chicken or the egg. It was silly, but it passed the time.
“You okay?”
She kept her eyes forward, not looking at him, and released a frustrated sigh. “I’m fine.”
He didn’t ask again, and she was glad. Every now and then, she felt his gaze on her, but she ignored it and appeared to be engrossed in watching the road. Megan didn’t want to lie to him, but she had no idea how to even begin to bring up what had happened between them last night, and how much he might or might not remember about it. Add to that the fact that they were going to be spending the next two hours in a vehicle with little ears that could hear anything they said and any conversations that needed to happen weren’t possible at the moment.
Besides, Megan had to figure out how in the world she was going to bring up the subject. It wasn’t as if she could come right out and say, ‘Hey, do you remember making out with me on the bed in your hotel room last night?’
Okay, she could, but she didn’t think that would go over really well. Paul was an incredibly private person. Although he was open with his daughter—and even Megan, to some degree—she was pretty sure if she confronted him with it straight out, he’d clam up. At best, he would shut her out. At worst, she’d be out of a job.
Paul was important to her, and after what had happened, Megan knew that on at least some level, he felt something for her, too. Maybe it was just physical attraction. It was possible. Megan knew that she was attractive to the opposite sex, and it might have only been that which had prompted last night’s reaction from Paul.
Even as the thought crossed her mind, Megan didn’t believe it. Yes, he had been trashed. No, he didn’t remember what he’d done, so he probably wasn’t thinking rationally.
Megan knew all of that, and she was ashamed to admit that she had personal experience with getting plastered and not remembering what you’d done the next morning. Paul wasn’t like that, though, and she couldn’t see him going up to some random woman and initiating something like that just because he was out of his mind drunk.
Maybe she was deluding herself, but she didn’t want last night to have happened because she was convenient. She wanted him to want her for her, and she was positive that they would have had sex if he hadn’t fallen asleep. Megan wanted more than just sex from Paul, however. The problem was she didn’t know if he’d ever be able to give her more than that. He still loved his wife. How could Megan ever compete with that?
Paul tried his best to concentrate on the road and not the woman sitting beside him in the passenger seat. His hangover lingered, but he was able to ignore it for the most part. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been a few hours ago. What he couldn’t ignore was the growing feeling that something was bothering Megan, and that he’d somehow had a part in whatever it was.
The entire drive home, he tried his best to recall what had occurred the night before. He remembered going back to his room, removing the plastic covering off one of the glasses the hotel provided in the room, and sitting down on the small couch with his bottle of scotch. Gradually, as he drank, the pain had begun to dull. Memories of Melissa—their wedding, their life—flooded his vision, but he was detached from it. Seeing her face didn’t bring with it the twisting in his gut.
He swallowed, and blinked several times, forcing his concentration back on the highway in front of him. The last thing he needed was to get distracted while driving.
With that in mind, Paul pushed through what he could remember of the previous night, and pressed his consciousness for what wasn’t so readily available. He squinted as if that would somehow help, but all it did was serve to nudge his headache closer to the surface once more. How was it possible he couldn’
t remember? Not even as a teenager had he drunk enough to cause memory loss. Surely there had to be something he could do to bring what had occurred back to him.
He kept trying even though it only increased the pounding in his head. The image of Megan standing over him, her eyes full of desire, kept surfacing in his mind the harder he tried to push through the fog in his brain. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out where it had come from. Megan had never looked at him like that before. He was sure of it. But there was something about it that seemed more real than a dream. What happened last night?
By the time Paul pulled into his driveway, he wasn’t any closer to solving the mystery. The last thing he could positively remember was picking up the bottle of scotch to pour himself yet another drink, and almost dropping it. At that point, he’d decided that maybe he’d better stop.
That’s it. That was the last thing he remembered. What happened after that? At what point did Megan come into his room? Had she found him on the couch and helped him to the bed, or was he already there? Had he said something to her? Done something to offend her?
Or . . .
Paul didn’t allow himself to finish that thought. Shaking his head as if that would somehow clear his mind, he went back to his previous contemplation. He and Megan weren’t incredibly close, but he’d thought they’d become friends of sorts. They talked, were cordial to one another. She knew about Melissa, and about the drunk driver who killed her. Of course, she didn’t know everything that had happened that night—why Melissa had been running to the store to get diapers at three in the morning.
Paul squeezed his eyes shut to block out the memory, and the guilt. No, Megan didn’t know all the ugly details, but she knew enough.
Redirecting his thoughts back to Megan, some of the tension in his shoulders eased. There’d been a few nights he’d come home late, needing to unwind, and the two of them had sat around the kitchen table and played a few hands of poker together. Even after spending hours at a crime scene, talking to witnesses, and going over evidence, she could make him laugh. Megan was . . . fun.
“Can I get out now, Daddy?”
Paul glanced in the rearview mirror at his daughter. She was shifting impatiently in her booster seat. Although Chloe knew how to get out of her seat, he’d drilled it into her that she wasn’t allowed to unbuckle herself without asking first or him telling her it was okay. It was a safety thing, and the last thing he wanted was something to happen that would cause him to lose Chloe, too. He didn’t think he could bear that.
“Yes, you may get out.” The second he gave his approval, Chloe had the seat belt unfastened, and was darting out the door toward the house.
Megan opened her car door and went around to the back of the vehicle to start unloading the luggage. Sighing, Paul joined her while Chloe ran around in circles in the yard, releasing her pent-up energy.
They worked together to unload the bags. Once everything was out of the trunk, Megan hitched her bag over her shoulder, and began walking toward the house. Paul thought about stopping her, but then again, what would he say? Sorry if I said something I shouldn’t have last night? That didn’t sound like much of an apology. Besides, he was still perplexed by the flash of her heated gaze.
He let her go, and picked up his own bag, as well as Chloe’s. “Come on, Chloe. Let’s get inside and I’ll get us some lunch.”
“But I’m not hungry!”
“Chloe.” Paul was not in the mood to deal with one of her tantrums.
Her lower lip pushed forward, and she crossed her arms as she stomped toward the house. Paul shook his head and followed her inside.
Lunch was a quiet affair. Chloe was still pouting because he’d made her come inside, and Megan appeared to be completely engrossed in a book she was reading. It gave him time to think about what he needed to say to her, because he knew he had to say something.
“May I go play now, Daddy?”
Paul glanced down at Chloe’s plate. Most of her food was gone, so he nodded, and opened his mouth to give her the okay. Apparently, his nod was enough, as Chloe didn’t wait for him to utter the words before she took off, running up the stairs to her room.
Once Paul was confident they were alone, he turned toward Megan. Again, he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Not because Megan subverted him in any way, but because he still had no idea what he was going to say to her.
She looked up at him and caught him staring. “Something wrong?”
“No.” He shook his head and stood, taking his plate to the sink. Why was this so difficult?
“Oh.” She almost sounded disappointed. “Were you planning to go into work today?”
He glanced at her over his shoulder as he rinsed off his plate. “No. Why?”
Megan shrugged. “I thought maybe I’d head to the mall if you’re going to be here.”
Paul smiled, and it felt as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders. “Sure. Go. Have fun.”
She paused as if she was going to say something, but she must have changed her mind. “All right. I’ll run up and say goodbye to Chloe before I leave.” At the door, she paused, and faced him. “Did you need me to pick up anything while I’m out?”
Something clenched in his chest. “No. I’m . . .” He cleared his throat. “I’m good.”
“Okay. See ya in a few hours.” She smiled at him as she skipped through the doorway, and bounded up the stairs.
Alone, Paul placed his hands on the counter, and looked out the window overlooking the sink into the backyard. He’d been granted a few hours, and he needed to use them wisely. He ran over the events of last night in his mind once more. But like before, everything went blank before Megan’s appearance in his room.
He heard her come back downstairs, and shortly after that, the front door opened and closed. The sound brought to mind earlier that morning when he’d peeked into her room to check on her—of her lying in bed—and again he felt those same stirrings in his groin.
Where was this coming from, and why now? Megan had lived with them for months, and not once had he reacted this way. Sure, she dressed a little sexy sometimes, and of course he noticed. How could he not? But she was twenty-three and single. Wasn’t that what twenty-three-year-olds did?
Paul rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and sighed. He had to stop thinking about it. Later, after Chloe went to bed, he’d talk to Megan. Maybe, after he got some answers, the strange reaction his body was having would go away.
Needing a distraction, Paul finished cleaning up and made his way upstairs to find Chloe. She was in her room, playing with her dolls.
He knocked on her door, and she looked up. “Mind if I join you?”
Chloe seemed to consider his offer for a second, and then picked up one of her dolls, handing it to him. “You can be Ken.”
So for the next few hours, Paul sat up in Chloe’s room playing dolls with her and having a tea party, all the while trying not to think about a certain conversation he needed to have with her nanny.
Chapter 5
Megan ran her hand along the rack of clothes until her fingers brushed against something she liked. Removing it from the rack so that she could get a better look, she held it against herself, and smiled. She’d long finished gathering the personal care items she needed. This wasn’t about need at all. This was about want.
On the long drive back to Indianapolis, Megan had done a lot of thinking—both about the previous night and that morning. Paul wanted her. At least, on some level he did. She was convinced of that. He’d said her name. He’d known it was her. Not his dead wife.
Plus, that morning at breakfast—that look he gave her—when he saw Trent whispering in her ear. Had he remembered something? The vibe coming off him had been one of annoyance. It wasn’t as if Trent had never flirted with her before. Usually, he laughed it off the same as she did. Trent was only being Trent. Something had changed. At least, she hoped it had.
With all the thinking she’d done, M
egan decided to play to her strengths. Maybe the mature thing would be to sit down and talk to him about what happened, but she was afraid Paul would try to dismiss it. Megan couldn’t take that.
During the four months Megan had known him, she’d never seen him go out on a date—never seen him take interest in any woman. From what she gathered from little things he and his family said, Paul didn’t date. At all.
Of course, Megan didn’t know if that extended to booty calls or not, but she had a feeling it did. Paul didn’t strike her as a one-night-stand kind of guy, which was another reason she thought what happened in the hotel might mean more than just him scratching an itch.
Tossing the pajamas over her arm, Megan rifled through the racks until she found two more sets of cute pajamas that she liked, before checking out. If Paul found her attractive, she was going to use that to her advantage. A girl had to try, right?
It was dark by the time she got home. She smiled when she saw that Paul had left the kitchen light on for her. It was amazing how little things like that could make her feel warm inside. No one but Rebecca had ever cared enough about her to leave the light on. Not even her parents.
As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she could hear voices coming from the second floor, and realized that Paul must be giving Chloe her bath. The little girl was becoming more and more independent and she wanted to bathe herself, but Paul insisted she was still too young to be left alone. As a compromise, after running the bath water to the correct temperature, Paul would sit on top of the toilet seat and read a magazine while Chloe had her bath. Megan was waiting for the day when Chloe would cease to allow that much from her father. She was growing up. It was only a matter of time before she became fully aware of the differences between boys and girls.
