He inhaled slowly, considering his response before he expelled a quiet sigh. “Like I said, Meg, I’m an idiot, and one not prone to rapid change. Although it’s taken almost a year for you to blossom into a woman, for me it was in a blink of an eye, and I’m a man who needs time to adjust.” He tucked a finger under her chin. “In my mind’s eye, you left in pigtails and braces.” He swallowed hard, mesmerized by the silky sweep of dark lashes, the lush curve of lips that triggered far too dangerous a response. “Now you’re a woman who obviously turns heads and races a man’s pulse, and that takes some getting used to.”
She peeked up with surprise in her eyes while a soft haze of color dusted her cheeks. “Is that what happened then? Tonight when you saw me? I . . .” Her blush deepened. “Raced your . . . pulse?”
The heat in her cheeks had nothing on him—blood gorged his face. He shifted away, removing his arm from her waist to drape it over the settee, then cleared his throat. “I guarantee you, Meg, you raced everybody’s pulse in that room tonight from sheer shock over one of the most remarkable transformations any of us have ever seen.”
A perfectly adorable grin skimmed her lips. “So I did race your pulse.”
His palms began to sweat as he slipped her a smile, wishing he could just lie. “Blue blazes, Bug, I didn’t even know it was you at first, so yes, of course you raced my pulse—you’re a beautiful wo—” He swallowed hard, his prior awkwardness returning in force. “Young lady.”
Never had he seen Megan McClare preen before, but the little brat was definitely gloating, head cocked and lips pursed in a satisfied smile. “And you called me a beautiful woman, Bram Hughes, so you might as well admit it—our friendship has progressed beyond pigtails and piggyback rides to an adult friendship between a man and a woman.”
Bram shook his head, unable to stifle a grin despite his discomfort over her reference to “a man and a woman.” Giving his watch a quick glance, he rose to his feet and tugged her along. “Yes, you are a beautiful woman, Miss McClare,” he said with a tweak of her earlobe, a habit of his over the years, “but I prefer posturing our ‘new’ friendship as an adult relationship between a brother and a sister, if you don’t mind.” He hooked an arm around her shoulders as if she were still that shy little girl in need of approval, steering her to the door with a teasing clear of his throat. “Trust me—it will be a lot less awkward that way.”
She peered up with a Mona Lisa smile. “And what if I don’t want to?” she said, the mischief in her tone definitely belonging to the old Meg, but the subject matter? Obviously left over from Paris.
He paused. “Don’t want to trust me?” He stalled, brows dipped in humor to mask prickles of alarm.
Her chin notched up, almost a dare in the tilt of her head that was as foreign to the Megan he knew as that confounded city that put all sorts of crazy notions in her head. “No—what if I don’t want to ‘posture our friendship’ as between a brother and a sister?”
He ground to a halt at the door, turning to brace his hands on her shoulders like he’d done dozens of times when Devin Caldwell had made her cry. His smile was gentle, but firm. “Doesn’t matter, Bug. I’m ten years your senior, a fourth cousin, and an unofficial brother since you’ve been seven. I see you as family, and the fact you’ve evolved into a stunningly beautiful woman doesn’t change that in the least.” His eyes narrowed to squints while his smile slanted toward dry. “What kind of batty ideas did those Parisians put in your head anyway?”
He blinked when her chin notched even higher, as if he were arguing with Cassie or Alli instead of the sweet and soft-spoken McClare. His jaw dropped when she fluttered those ridiculous lashes till he swore he could feel a breeze. “It’s the City of Love, Bram,” she said with her sweet giggle. “What kind of ideas do you think Paris put in my head?”
Heat stung his collar as he hooked her arm, all but dragging her down the hall while he peered at her out of the corner of his eye. “Well, get ’em out, Bug, because there’s no room in our friendship for that.” He ushered her into the parlour, all awkwardness replaced by resolve.
Or in my heart.
6
Come on, Meg—exactly how many marriage proposals did you get in Paris?”
Meg paused, a handful of popcorn poised at her lips as she sat against her polished cherrywood headboard between her sister Alli and cousin Cass, a bowl of popcorn in her lap. She was grateful she hadn’t yet put it in her mouth lest she choke on Alli’s question. “Goodness, Al,” she said when she’d caught her breath again, “I don’t know—two or three, maybe?”
“Two or three?” Alli said with a gasp, jolting straight up as she gaped at her sister. “You received three proposals of marriage?”
Meg sighed, nose wrinkling to deflect the embarrassment she felt over the lavish attention she’d received from boys, something she still wasn’t used to. “From French boys, Al, which are never serious proposals.” She squinted as she tossed some popcorn in her mouth, a “Lily memory” easing her lips into a smile. “Although Lily claimed I ‘cracked’ Pierre’s heart, but I’m pretty sure it was his pride instead.”
Alli gaped. “Good night, Meg, did you kiss all these boys too?”
Heat pulsed in Meg’s cheeks. “Good heavens—no! I would never do that.” Meg battled a shiver, the subject of kisses far too painful since the time a boy had cornered her at a classmate’s party last year. Goose bumps pebbled her skin at the awful memory, the boy’s garlic kiss making her nauseous even now. Mortified, she had warded him off in a knee-jerk defense, accidentally flipping his glasses over the stone wall into the bushes below. She’d felt sorry for him at the time, apologizing profusely when he stormed away. Until he’d told Devin Caldwell and the other boys he’d kissed her. “Like kissing a greased pig all trussed up in steel,” Devin had repeated in front of everyone at the party, the lie drawing raucous laughter. “Smells like pork and tastes like tin.” Meg’s eyelids drifted closed, the very thought of kissing a boy so steeped in hurt, she felt sick to her stomach.
“Good girl.” Alli gently tucked Meg’s hair behind her ear. “If I’d been more particular about who I kissed, I mightn’t have had my heart broken three times.”
“Agreed,” Cassie said with a launch of the lariat she’d slept with since the age of five. She roped one of Meg’s stuffed bears, yanking it onto the bed with a grunt. “Kissing boys just makes a girl more susceptible to hurt.” She tossed the bear back across the room, landing it on its head. “Or at least it did with me and Jamie. Nope, Megs, take my word for it—being particular about who you kiss and waiting awhile is never a bad thing.”
Meg offered her Texas cousin a tremulous smile. “Thanks, Cassie.”
Alli bent to peer into her sister’s eyes. “Goodness, Meg, I can hardly believe how much your life has changed in the last year. I know you’ve come back from Paris as a woman, but I can’t help but see you as my shy little sis, so it’ll take time for me to adjust.”
“Me too, Al,” Meg whispered, expelling a sigh while Alli pulled her into a tight hug. Eyes closed, Meg squeezed right back, grateful Cassie and Jamie were spending the night. There was nothing she needed more than to chat and giggle with her sister and cousin while the boys engaged in a game of late-night pool.
Alli shook her head and settled back against the headboard, reaching for more popcorn. “But merciful Providence, Megs, I still can’t believe you received three proposals without a single kiss!”
Meg laughed. “Must I remind you we aren’t talking bona fide proposals of marriage here? This is Paris, Al, where men propose on a daily basis. And trust me, Mrs. Rousseau stuck to Lily and me like glue, so we couldn’t give gentlemen callers anything, much less a kiss.” She giggled so much over Alli’s feigned expression of shock, she began to choke on a kernel of popcorn.
Alli slapped her on the back, waiting until Meg started laughing again before she grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a shake. “Sweet thunderation, Megan McClare—three proposals
and a saucy comment. Now aren’t you the little minx!”
Cassie chuckled while she roped another bear. “Says the woman who’s been engaged four times.” The bear sailed onto the bed.
Alli’s jaw dropped as she aimed a kernel at Cassie’s head. “I’ll have you know four times in five years is a far cry from three times in six months, Cassidy MacKenna.”
Cassie ducked, rubbing the smooth hemp between her forefinger and thumb while her eyes narrowed in mock threat. “You are either awfully brave or awfully stupid, Cuz, pelting popcorn at me when I have a lariat in my hand.”
“For mercy’s sake, Cass, I can’t believe you still sleep with that stinky rope now that you’re married.” Alli tossed a piece of popcorn in her mouth, then snatched more from Meg’s bowl before she leaned back with a waggle of brows. “Unless it’s to hog-tie Jamie when he gets out of line.”
“You have no idea how tempted I am when that pretty boy gets my dander up, trust me.” Cassie rose up to swing the lariat in a circle overhead, launching it at one of Meg’s rag dolls perched on a small velvet settee. She jerked hard, and the doll landed in her lap with a plop, delighting Meg to no end. Gently fingering the hemp, Cassie breathed in its scent with a soft smile. “To be honest, I don’t think I could sleep without it—it’s my lifeline to my parents, Texas, and home.” A glint of trouble suddenly sparkled in her eyes. “Not to mention the perfect threat a time or two before Jamie and I were married last year.”
Alli bumped shoulders with Meg. “Knowing Jamie like we do, I can certainly believe that, but when it comes to Nick?” She flipped a piece of popcorn in the air and snapped it with her teeth, holding her hand up to admire her own diamond ring. “I prefer the stick method, thank you, which has proven most effective in taming Mr. Crankypants.”
Cassie cocked her head as she recoiled her rope. “Exactly how many times did you whack poor Nick with that stick anyway?”
Meg’s mouth fell open. “You whacked Nick with a stick?”
“Trust me, he deserved it,” Alli said with a dignified lift of her chin, promptly chomping several pieces of corn. “Each of the five times he tried to bully me around, not to mention breaking both my pointer and my ruler.”
Meg gasped, almost inhaling a piece of popcorn. “Good heavens, Al, what on earth did the poor man do?” She giggled, memories of Lily surfacing once again. “Did he get a little ‘fris-kee,’ as Lily would say?”
“No, not as ‘fris-kee’ as Jamie did with Cass, but if he had, I assure you that a stick works as nicely as a lariat in keeping a suitor in line. But just for future reference, Megs, if a so-called gentleman makes advances or tries to kiss you against your will, the palm of a lady’s hand also works quite nicely when needed.”
Avoiding her sister’s eyes, Megan tucked her knees to her chest, cheeks warming at the question tiptoeing in her mind. “So noted. But . . . what if . . .” She gulped down several pieces of popcorn, the flush in her cheeks traveling all the way to her toes. “A girl would like a certain boy to kiss her? Is there . . . you know . . . any particular way to do that?”
Alli and Cassie exchanged looks. “Sweet th-thunderation, Megs, do you have your eye on someone?” Alli stuttered, the shock in her voice a perfect match for the stunned look on Cassie’s face.
“Uh . . . I don’t know . . . m-maybe . . . ,” she whispered, wildfire blazing in her cheeks. She slid a timid glance at her sister and cousin. “I suppose there could be someone I may have daydreamed about once or twice in the past and maybe even mentioned to Lily a few times.” She sighed, the action depleting her lungs as much as her hope. “But I’ve always known it was nothing more than a daydream, so I didn’t want anybody to know.”
Alli’s jaw dropped. “Please tell me it’s not Devin Caldwell,” she said, the whites of her eyes expanded in shock.
Meg averted her gaze, her finger slowly tracing the edge of the popcorn bowl. “No . . . not Devin . . .” Sucking in a stabilizing breath, she swallowed the knot of jitters impeding her words. “I know this will sound a little bit crazy, but it’s . . .” She closed her eyes to brace herself for their shock, her voice tapering off to a whisper. “B-Bram.”
Silence ensued, prompting Meg to chance a peek. Alli and Cassie looked like a matched set—blank stares and mouths gaping.
“See, I told you it was crazy,” Meg said with a sad smile. “But that’s okay because it doesn’t matter anyway—Bram made it pretty clear tonight he only sees me as a little sister.”
Both Alli and Cassie’s jaws dropped a full inch. “You actually talked to Bram about this?” Alli squeaked.
Meg bobbed her head, expression somber. “He’d been acting so strange since he first saw me tonight—distant, stiff, so unlike himself—that I decided to confront him.”
“He did seem out of sorts,” Cassie confirmed.
“Goodness, Megs,” Alli said, voice bordering on shrill, “how on earth did you do it?”
Meg shrugged her shoulders. “I just told him I missed his friendship tonight, and he finally apologized for being so distant.”
“Did he say why?” Cassie asked, grabbing Meg’s arm to get her attention.
Meg sighed. “I think it makes him uncomfortable I’m no longer the pudgy little wallflower he’s used to.” A knot ducked in her throat as warmth fanned in her cheeks. “He said I’ve turned into a woman who obviously turns heads and races a man’s pulse.”
Alli shook Meg’s arm, reclaiming her attention. “Including his?” she shrieked.
“I think so,” Meg said softly, a furrow of confusion ridging her brow. “But he said it was only because he didn’t know who I was at first. Claims he’s ten years my senior, a fourth cousin, and an unofficial brother since I’ve been seven. Says the fact that I have ‘evolved into a stunningly beautiful woman’ doesn’t alter the brother-sister friendship we have one bit.”
“Stunningly beautiful woman?” Cassie said, her voice rising to Alli’s level.
Meg nodded, shoulders drooping as much as her spirits. “That’s what he said.”
Cassie and Alli traded grins. “Who would have thought our sweet and straitlaced Padre Hughes would admit to being attracted to little Meg!” Alli clasped her hands in delight. “This is wonderful!”
“Not if he only sees me as a little sister,” Meg said with a sad shake of her head.
“But that’s just it, Megs.” Alli had a dangerous gleam in her eye. “He doesn’t see you as a little sister—he sees you as a ‘stunningly beautiful woman.’ ”
“Even so,” Meg said with a rare show of pluck, “Blake mentioned in one of his letters that Bram was seeing someone, so I’ve made up my mind that if I can’t have a man like Bram Hughes, I will devote myself to a career in law or medicine instead.” She slumped against the headboard with a sigh. “Besides, I don’t want anything to jeopardize our friendship.”
Cassie gnawed on the edge of her lip, clearly immersed in thought. “Mmm . . . Jamie did mention Bram escorted Amelia Darlington to several functions, but he never brings her around, so we just assumed it wasn’t serious.”
Alli grunted. “Knowing Bram, it’s more likely because of his allegiance to his father rather than any interest in Amelia. Rumor has it that Mr. Hughes and Henry Darlington have been planning a merger for a while now . . . in more ways than one, apparently.”
Meg set the bowl aside, no longer interested in nibbling. The thought of her best friend courting another woman left her unsettled and more than a little blue. Scooting against the headboard with shoulders square, she shook the melancholy off, determined to focus on her dreams of service to others instead. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway,” she said quietly. “With the internship in the district attorney’s office followed by the one at Cooper Medical, and then my schooling, I’ll be too busy for a romantic relationship anyway.”
“You’re right,” Cassie said with a toss of Meg’s bear, twirling her lasso to retrieve it once more. “There’s nothing wrong with focusing on your dreams inst
ead—both Alli and I did that before we met Jamie and Nick. But the truth is, the main reason was because we’d been hurt and wanted to make sure it didn’t happen again.” She parked the teddy bear in Meg’s lap. “And fear is never the right motivation, Megs, so, yes, focus on your dreams. But you’re a beautiful girl on the threshold of womanhood, so don’t be surprised if God throws a monkey wrench in your plans.”
“As long as the ‘wrench’ has nothing to do with a ‘monkey’ named Devin Caldwell,” Alli said with a scrunch of her nose.
Meg grinned. “No, Al, monkeys are cute,” she said with a tilt of her head, employing a trace of French spunk along with the sass. She gave her sister a wink. “Our Mr. Caldwell is more of a baboon.”
7
So . . . what’s the excuse tonight?”
Bram glanced up to see Jamie in his office door, arms folded and hip butted to the frame, and instantly the headache he’d been battling notched up several degrees. Giving Jamie a tired smile, he glanced over his shoulder at the clock on the credenza and winced. Six-forty-five—time for Jamie to be long gone to the McClares’. His gaze automatically trailed past a picture of Blake, Jamie, and him at graduation to stare out at the overcast bay, where the roiling whitecaps appeared as restless as he. And churning way less than my stomach. Venting with a weary sigh, he tossed his pen on his desk and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes to knead his temple. “Come on, Jamie, have a heart—I’ve been chained to this desk for weeks now, you know that.”