by Judy Duarte - The Bachelor's Brighton Valley Bride (Return to Brighton Valley)
“Collette. And it took me months to finally get it through her head that I didn’t want to see her anymore. In fact, I just ended things once and for all a week ago—and that was through a text message because my face-to-face conversations and phone calls with her weren’t working.”
“You’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.”
Was he? Or was he just wanting to stretch the fantasy out as long as he could?
Was he actually waiting for Megan to fall for Peyton so he could spring some kind of Cinderella surprise on her?
As strange as it sounded, he wasn’t sure if he could seal the deal in his Peyton persona. Maybe it was time to let her know he was Clay—and all he could offer her and the kids.
Who wouldn’t want to move away from Brighton Valley? He could provide them with a home in the city. Her financial worries would be over.
“I’ll tell her the truth within the next couple of days, but I have to make sure everything is right when I do.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“Leave that to me.” And to Zoe.
The wheels were beginning to turn, but Clay had a plan, and it was bound to work. He’d take Megan on a fairy-tale date in Houston—at a five-star restaurant. Because of the two-hour drive, he’d get them a room—or two, if she’d be more comfortable—for the night.
Maybe then she’d be impressed—and willing to forgive his lie.
Chapter Ten
Candlelight flickered on the linen-draped table, while several of the waitstaff stood to the side, hands behind them, ready to be of service. Yet Megan only had eyes for the handsome man who’d invited her out to dinner at one of the most elegant restaurants in Houston.
She’d been surprised when Peyton had invited her, and she had initially told him no. After all, who took a first date all the way to Houston on a Friday night?
And what woman who’d sworn off men since she and her husband had separated agreed to go on her very first date as a single woman knowing it would be an overnighter—albeit one that would be perfectly respectful?
But Peyton had been so sweet when he’d asked her, so thoughtful when he’d offered to get two separate rooms at a swanky hotel because of the distance they’d have to travel. Besides, when he’d said that she deserved to be wined and dined, well...she’d been flattered, to say the least. And in spite of the fact that she’d worried about how he could afford such an amazing evening, she’d agreed.
Caroline was thrilled that her single young friend was finally going out on a date and offered to keep the kids overnight.
So Megan and Peyton had locked up the shop early, and after leaving her car parked in the alley, they’d driven to downtown Houston. Once they’d checked into their adjoining rooms, they’d gotten dressed there.
Megan had been nervous but excited, too. And so far she was glad that she’d come. She’d never been treated like a princess before—and had never had a man be so attentive.
This night, with this man, was the kind of date a woman dreamed about.
After Peyton ordered a bottle of expensive California red wine, Megan asked, “Have you been to this restaurant often?”
“A few times, when I’ve come to the Houston office.”
“Oh?” She leaned back in her seat. “You don’t live and work here? I’d assumed you did.”
Peyton took a drink of his water—the sparkling kind the waiter poured from a fancy bottle. “I visit all the district offices.”
Megan had known he was good at his job. And that he wasn’t a country bumpkin like her. But she hadn’t realized his position with Zorba’s had required him to travel so much. Apparently he was used to big cities and the finer things in life. He probably even had a corporate credit card.
Would he pay for their meal with it? Would he consider their date to be a business expense the company could write off? The thought that he might was a little unsettling, but she shrugged it off. He was an accountant. Surely he knew better than that.
The sommelier returned to their table and poured a small amount of wine in Peyton’s glass, waiting for him to give his approval.
Did he consider this a business dinner? Was he taking pity on a poor single mother by showing her a good time?
She scolded herself for worrying about it. Instead she would just enjoy herself since she doubted that she’d ever experience another like this again.
So she took a sip of her wine, felt it warm her throat as she swallowed, then leaned back in her seat and gave her head a little shake to toss the hair from her face.
She’d worn it long tonight, and while she supposed it fit the occasion, she wasn’t used to the strands tumbling loose along her shoulders. She’d also used more makeup than usual so she wouldn’t be mistaken for a bright-eyed farm girl on her first trip to the big city.
Yet the cover-model hair, mascara and lip gloss made her feel a bit bolder. So did the formfitting black dress she’d found in the back of her closet.
She’d purchased the outfit several years ago when she’d realized her marriage was on the rocks. It had been her idea of a Hail Mary pass to try and save a dying relationship. But she’d never had the chance to wear the dress or the skimpy black bra and matching panties she’d bought that day. She’d no more than returned from her shopping spree when she’d learned that Todd had been cheating.
“So,” she said to the handsome man sitting across from her, “if you bounce around to all the offices, where do you call home?”
“I have a condo in Silicon Valley, but I’ve never really put down roots anywhere.”
How sad. She reached across the table and placed her hand over his. She’d meant it to be a sympathetic gesture, but either the wine or the sexy ensemble she’d torn the tags off while in the hotel room just an hour earlier had given her the courage to caress his knuckles. “Don’t you ever get tired of traveling from one place to another?”
“Moving around is all I’ve ever known. I’m used to it.” He turned his palm up and took her hand in his, holding her captive. His thumb traced lazy circles along her wrist, the sizzling strokes sending sparks of heat to her core.
She had the sudden urge to ask if he ever planned to settle down, but a loaded question like that would kill the mood faster than if she dumped a glass of ice water on his head.
All she needed was for him to think she wanted to be the woman he’d choose to settle down with.
And when she thought about it, did it really matter what he planned to do? She finally had her life just the way she wanted it. And she certainly wasn’t ready to let another man come into it and shake things up.
But in the flickering candlelight, as the attraction sparked over their table, she realized this wasn’t just a business dinner. Nor was it Peyton’s way of showing a country girl a nice time.
This was definitely his idea of a date. And while she knew a permanent relationship between the two of them could never be, what would it hurt to live in the here and now—just for one amazing night?
When the waiter came to take their orders, they continued to hold hands as she shared stories of her childhood and they both told little anecdotes that seemed so far removed from the people they were today. They laughed and teased and drank more wine than she was used to.
She fed him a bite of her balsamic-glazed filet medallions, and he insisted she try his duck confit.
Over the next hour, they weren’t coworkers or merely friends. They were... Well, they weren’t lovers. At least, not yet. But there was definitely something going on. And judging by the way Peyton’s gaze caressed her and the way she tingled inside when he did, she knew the feeling was mutual.
After a decadent dessert of crème brûlée with fresh raspberries, Megan decided that this had been one of the most enjoyable evenings of her life. She didn’t know if P
eyton had intended it to be this romantic, but that didn’t diminish the fact that she’d never been wined and dined—and she liked it.
In high school Todd had taken her to the Tastee Cone on their first date. And when he was in college, they usually went to sports bars with his buddies.
A romantic evening consisted of him bringing home chicken wings and pizza so she wouldn’t have to cook. And then he’d grab a beer and kick off his smelly sneakers before turning on SportsCenter. Was it any wonder tonight was so magical?
She knew she shouldn’t get her hopes up that Peyton would stick around Brighton Valley—or that anything more could ever become of their date tonight—but she couldn’t help it. There was something very nice about him, something wholesome and appealing. Something kind and trustworthy.
After Peyton paid the bill with a credit card—she had no idea which one he’d used, and she no longer cared—he pulled out her chair, and she stood. Then he placed his hand on her lower back and they made their way to the front of the restaurant.
The maître d’ smiled at Peyton as they exited. “It was a pleasure serving you, Mr. Jenkins.”
In the dimly lit entryway, Megan spotted a flush on Peyton’s face, although he didn’t correct the man.
You’d think that after dropping that much money in the restaurant, the staff would pay enough attention to the credit-card receipt and call a customer by his correct name.
Megan slipped her arm around Peyton’s waist and tried to appease his ego. “Johnson is a common name. I’m sure with all the customers coming in and out in such a big city it’s easy for them to get confused.”
He looked at her, a furrow deep between his brows; then a smile spread across his face. “You’re right. It just took me by surprise.” Then he slipped his own arm around her, as well, and they began the short walk back to the hotel.
“Dinner was wonderful,” she said as they passed couples dressed to the nines and a few university students clustered together outside an upscale bar.
“I thought so, too.”
Just ahead, pushing a grocery cart loaded with all his worldly possessions, a scruffy man with a shaggy beard approached.
“Hey, buddy,” he said to Peyton. “You got an extra cigarette I could have?”
The man wore a dirty army jacket and held a brown paper–covered bottle. “No, I don’t smoke,” Peyton said. “Besides, those things will kill you.”
Megan suspected the poor man’s liver would probably kill him before the tobacco would, but she still felt sorry for him.
She’d always tried to help the homeless, although Todd used to scold her for it. He claimed she was enabling people who ought to go out and get a real job and stop being a drain on society. That pithy observation, of course, had come from a guy whose family had always supplemented his income and enabled him right and left.
But she no longer had to listen to Todd, so she reached into her small clutch. Peyton stopped her. She assumed he was going to tell her the same thing Todd had. Instead he pulled a money clip loaded with bills from his pocket.
She’d watched him remove his wallet on occasion, but she’d never seen him with a wad of cash like the one he carried tonight. Was he crazy? He was going to get mugged on the street if he wasn’t careful.
Peyton peeled out a couple of bills from the inside of the fold, then gave them to the man.
“God bless you, sir.” The homeless man reached out his dirty, weathered hand, and in a move that surprised her, Peyton took it. Those long, smooth fingers looked unnaturally clean against the dark, dirt-encrusted fingernails that gripped them with appreciation.
As the man pushed his cart down the street, Megan said, “That was one of the most generous and sweetest things I’ve ever seen.”
“I wouldn’t call it generous.” Peyton gave the man one last glance, then slipped his hand along her waist.
“Um, I hope you don’t think I’m snobbish, but would you mind if I asked you if you wanted to use some hand sanitizer?” She opened her small clutch and pulled out the tiny travel-size bottle of liquid antibacterial gel she always carried.
He laughed and squirted a large dollop in his palm before rubbing it in. “You’re definitely not a snob. I’ve met my share of them. You are, however, a natural born mom.”
She was glad to hear that, but she really hadn’t wanted him to categorize her as a mother—especially tonight, when she wanted him to see her as a sexy and sophisticated woman.
The kind of woman who’d gone to Houston with a man who’d paid for them to have two adjoining hotel rooms—and who planned to suggest that they only use one.
* * *
Clay knew he shouldn’t compare Megan, a small-town girl and single mom, to Collette or to any of the models or actresses he’d gone out with in the past. But by the time they’d been served their main courses, he’d realized that she was far more appealing than all his other dates combined.
Actually, he’d realized that in the past few weeks they’d been working together. But seeing Megan in that slinky black dress and sitting in one of the finest restaurants in Houston, he’d decided that she outshone every other woman by far.
She was bright, funny and personable. Even out of her element, she maintained a down-home quality to her. But she was versatile enough to fit in with a swankier crowd.
Unlike most of the others, she hadn’t placed any demands on the waiter. She’d also tried to make Peyton feel better about Henri referring to him as Mr. Jenkins—another close call, although he was just about to tell her himself. And she’d even shown kindness and respect to a homeless man on the street.
As they passed through the revolving glass doors and into the lobby of the boutique hotel Zoe had booked for them, he tightened his grip on her waist.
He usually stayed in a corporate apartment when he was in Houston, but he hadn’t wanted to take her there. He’d wanted to stay somewhere more impressive, someplace where he’d have room service and a full staff at his beck and call.
When they entered the mirrored elevator, he realized how easy it would be to take her in his arms and kiss her with all the longing he’d stored up this past week. But Megan wasn’t just any woman he’d wined and dined in the past. She was special.
She wasn’t someone to take to bed, then have Zoe send flowers to the next day as a parting gift while he flew out of town on his new Gulfstream.
And right now, as she gazed at him with those pretty caramel-colored eyes, he wasn’t sure how or when or even if he’d handle their parting. All he knew was that he was flirting with a passion he could hardly contain.
When the elevator door opened, they headed down the hall to their adjoining rooms. He’d never been faced with a situation like this before. In the past, he’d always known how his other nights would end up as he made his way down a hotel corridor with a dinner date.
But now? He had no idea. He could tell her the truth about himself now, and once she got over her initial shock or anger at him for not coming clean sooner, she’d soften up. She’d see him as a kindhearted, generous man who cared deeply about her. A man who was falling in love with her, if he hadn’t done so already.
She’d also realize that he was as rich as they came, and that he could buy her whatever her heart desired, take her to any exotic location she might want to travel to. He could invite her to come to his room for a nightcap, to share his bed tonight. But would she come because of what he could offer her?
Or because of who he really was—and how she felt about that man?
There was only one way to find out. And that was to hold onto his secret until after she’d let him know how she felt about Peyton—or at least, how she felt about getting romantically involved with him.
So the ball, or rather, the rest of the night, was in her court.
When they stopped in front o
f the door to her room, she turned to face him. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He wanted to kick himself for responding with such a stupid question, but it was the only response he could come up with. Clearly she meant their date and all he’d done to impress her.
“For dinner and an amazing evening, of course. But also for helping us in the shop and for being so understanding with Tyler. And, well, thank you for...everything.” She glanced at both doors, then back at him.
She seemed to be weighing a decision, and he truly wanted it to be hers alone. But he couldn’t help edging her toward the more advantageous choice.
“And for this?” He leaned down and placed his lips gently against hers.
Apparently, that was all the convincing she needed, because she slanted her mouth over his and slipped her arms around his neck. He pulled her close, and within moments they were making out in the hallway like a couple of teenagers with no place to go.
He used his tongue to explore her mouth, as his hands sought out every inch of her waist, back and hips.
Somehow they ended up leaning against the wall. He ran his fingers through that luscious head of red curls that had been the source of many fantasies for him over the past few weeks.
As the elevator doors opened and another hotel guest entered the hall, they both pulled back, eyes wide, lips parted, breaths coming out in raspy pants.
They averted their gazes until the man passed them and let himself into his own room.
Then Clay pulled his key card out of his pocket. “Should we...?”
“Yes. But do you have any...um...?” She glanced down before looking back at him with pink cheeks.
He assumed she was asking about protection. Fortunately, he’d picked up a box of condoms in the little newsstand shop off the lobby while he’d waited for her to come downstairs and meet him for dinner. He didn’t want her to think he’d been too presumptuous, so he just nodded in response.
She nodded back, and the decision was made.
He opened the door to the room, led her inside, then pulled her into his arms. As she slipped into his embrace, she drew his lips to hers, and their bodies took up right where they’d left off, stroking, caressing, exploring.
