by Marie Force
“It’s me, Megan. I’m sorry to scare you.”
That voice . . . It cut through him like a knife slicing butter. Every nerve ending in his body stood up to take note of her nearness, which happened every damned time he came into any kind of contact with her. “Megan,” he said in a voice that was barely a whisper. “What’re you doing here in the dark?”
“Hiding out.”
“Why? Are you hurt? What’s wrong?” True to form, he wanted to make things right for her, no matter what it took. His heart beat quickly, as if he’d been running for miles, and his hands were suddenly sweaty and clammy. He’d never understand why this particular woman provoked such a strong reaction in him every time he laid eyes on her—or in this case, heard tears in her voice as she spoke in the dark.
“Nothing’s wrong. I just needed a minute. Sorry to trespass on your property. I’ll get out of your way.”
“Wait. Don’t go.” The words came out sounding far more desperate than he’d intended. “At least let me drive you home.”
“That’s all right. I can walk.”
“I wouldn’t mind at all.”
She stepped into the light, and the sight of her tear-ravaged face broke his heart. What could possibly be so wrong?
“It’s out of your way.”
“I’ve got nowhere to be.” He watched her expressive face as she pondered his offer. Her lips pursed, which brought her cheekbones into sharper relief against the pale skin on her face. Exquisite was the word that came to mind whenever he looked at her, which was as often as he could. Knowing that until recently she’d been in major crush with his brother Will had no bearing whatsoever on how he felt about her. He looked at her, and he wanted. It was that simple.
Except, she barely knew he was alive, which was a problem.
“If you’re sure you don’t mind,” she said after an impossibly long pause.
“I really don’t.”
“Thank you.”
She walked with him to his silver Lincoln Navigator and stood by his side as he held the passenger door and waited for her to get settled.
As he got into the driver’s side, his growling stomach reminded him of the takeout order. “Have you had dinner?” The words were out before he could take the time to overanalyze the situation.
“Not yet.”
“I have a pizza and salad on order. I’d be happy to share.”
“I don’t know if I could eat.”
“Come along and keep me company?”
“Um, sure. Okay.” She reached into her purse, withdrew a tissue and wiped her eyes.
“Are you going to tell me why you were crying?”
“Do I have to?”
“Of course not.” He was surprised that she would think he’d try to force it out of her. “But I’m told I’m a good listener.”
She had no reply to that, so he turned the key to start the engine, lowering the windows a bit to get some air.
“I probably stink from working all day,” she said.
“No, you don’t.” As he drove, he thought of a thousand things he’d like to say to her, but none were the sort of things a guy blurted out when he finally had a moment alone with the woman he desired.
How exactly did you tell a woman who barely knew you were alive that you thought about her constantly? That seeing her upset killed you. That wanting her kept you awake at night. How did you tell her it didn’t matter if she had once been obsessed with your brother? That there was nothing you wouldn’t do to see her smile, to see her pale blue eyes light up with joy?
How could he say any of that and not sound like a total creep?
He couldn’t, so he kept his mouth shut and hoped he wouldn’t do something embarrassing like hyperventilate from the overwhelming effort it took not to say all of it.
