Beautiful.
When her eyes opened again, he turned away.
He’d about exhausted the second chances he was going to get with this woman, so no more letting go and building unrealistic expectations he wouldn’t be able to deliver on. Wouldn’t want to deliver on.
“So it’s true?”
Connor’s head jerked around toward the source of that well-cultured East Coast accent. Even in accusation, the modulated delivery was as polished as if she’d been inquiring after a great-aunt’s health.
Caro.
Instinct had him ready to check whether Megan could see them, but he tamped the need down.
If she happened to be looking his way, he’d attract less attention by simply exchanging a few pleasantries before moving on. Moving out.
That was what he would do.
Collect Megan and take her out of there.
She was aware of his previous engagement to Caro and knew their parting had been a recent thing.
Of course, the specifics... He’d shared them the night they met. Intended to share them after, as well. But first, he’d been fighting so hard to win her over. And then everything had been too good to chance ruining. And this past week, he hadn’t wanted to add one more thing.
There hadn’t been any urgency because he hadn’t expected Caro to turn up. Only, here she was, standing two feet away, peering up at him with eyes revealing nothing of her true feelings. Her smile in place—the one he’d seen every single time they’d shared space through the duration of their relationship. Smooth. Polished.
“Caro, I hadn’t heard you were back in town. How have you been?”
“How have I been, Connor?” A cool voice, a pleasant smile. “Humiliated.”
His gut knotted. He should have gotten in touch with her. Told her himself.
“You shouldn’t feel that way,” he said. Then, hoping to ease the sting, added, “Everyone knows you left me. You broke our relationship off—”
“Our engagement. You were going to marry me.”
He nodded, a gathering tension spreading through his shoulders. Along his spine.
“Yes. You broke off our engagement,” he conceded, keeping his voice as low as she’d managed to keep hers. Even so, he could feel the burn of eyes on them. Could sense the attention this few minutes’ exchange had garnered. A quick scan of the area by their table showed Megan had moved.
Good.
He’d wrap this up and then get her out of there. With Caro back in town, he needed to tell Megan everything. She might not love the timing of how it had all played out, but she’d understood that first night. He had to believe she would understand now.
Caro’s voice took on a sharper edge than he’d ever heard from her, assuring even more attention turning on them. “How could you do this to me?”
He met her eyes, sincere in his apology. “I never intended for you to be hurt. We ended the relationship and you left. Went back east—”
“Because I wanted more from you. I wanted you to realize what we had. What you were giving up. I’ve been waiting—” She broke off, the emotion in her voice spilling over into her eyes.
“You said you wanted something you knew we didn’t have. Something that wasn’t between us. You never implied—”
“I thought you needed to figure it out on your own. That given enough time, you would realize you wanted more than an ‘understanding.’ I thought you would come after me.”
No. It wasn’t possible. Caro couldn’t be standing in the middle of this ballroom with tears spilling down her cheeks. Not this woman he’d never seen with a hair out of place, who’d never raised her voice or been anything but the most polished, lovely, impenetrable piece of porcelain beauty in his presence.
He didn’t want to be the cause of her pain. Had never wanted that. “Caro, when I met Megan...”
He knew how it looked. Knew he would probably never be able to make her understand.
“Did you fall in love with her?” The words snapped past her lips with a sort of biting accusation he never would have expected. But she was hurt, and the truth was he didn’t know her that well. Had never wanted to look beyond the social-elite exterior she’d shown him. “No. I’m guessing not. Just another handy assembly of qualifications falling into your lap a mere thirteen days after you suggested Bali for our honeymoon, is that about it? Too convenient to pass up. An opportunity not to be missed.
“I knew you were cold, Connor. But even for you... Does she have any idea? Probably not, considering how fast you married her. I’m guessing it won’t be too long, though, before she sees through the smile and charm, your attention, affection—sees how you can turn it on and off at the flick of a switch. Walk away without a backward glance. Or maybe she doesn’t care. Maybe it’s the pretty packaging and size of your checkbook that matters.”
Connor felt the burn of anger mingling with his guilt. He knew Caroline had been hurt, and he was truly sorry for it. If the barbs she was throwing had been directed at him alone, he would have taken them. But they weren’t.
“Caro,” he said, lowering his voice as he leaned closer to her. “Don’t do this. People are watching.”
She scanned the crowd around them, straightened her spine, and then met his eyes with bitter satisfaction shining in her own. “Yes. They are.”
And just like that, he knew.
Straightening away from the woman who might have been his wife, he found Megan standing stock-still at the edge of the crowd surrounding them. She appeared frozen in place. Caught midstep on her way toward him. One hand half-extended, her mouth hanging in a mockery of the gentle smile she always wore.
“Megan,” he said, taking a step toward her. “Let’s get our coats.”
Megan’s eyes followed his approach. One blink. Two.
From behind him, soothing words sounded as a number of women moved in to try to defuse the situation with Caroline—only, she wasn’t through yet.
Voice rising above the din, she called, “I was going to offer your new wife the advice I wish someone had given me—not to fall in love with you. But by the look on her face, it’s already too late.”
Damn it! “Enough, Caro.”
Megan’s lips parted on an intake of breath that may have been the precursor to a response or refutation...only, then they closed with a tiny shake of her head and a helpless smile.
His hand settled at the curve of her hip, his body moving in close enough to shield her from prying eyes. “We’ll talk at home.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
MEGAN WALKED THROUGH to the living room, her steps clipped and graceless, her mind a riot of fragmented thoughts, confusion and unwelcome emotion.
The door closed behind her.
The lock fell and Connor’s approach echoed through the marble entry.
Dropping her wrap over the back of the couch, she stared across at the wall of glass—and the black void of the Pacific beyond—wishing she were anywhere else but there.
“I know...” A muffled curse sounded as Connor’s hand ran over his mouth in the reflection. “I know you weren’t...prepared for that.”
Megan shook her head.
No. Not even a little bit.
“I feel like a fool,” she admitted, figuring one of them should offer up the whole truth.
Connor closed the distance between them, circling his arms around her belly and pulling her into the solid heat of him. “Don’t. If anyone was a fool tonight, it was me and Caroline. I still can’t believe— Hell, Megan, you have to understand I never expected this from her. If I had—”
“What?” she demanded, pulling free of his arms to face him. “Bothered to tell me the truth? Shared the more damning details...so I’d have a chance to be prepared if they ever came up?”
Connor’s expression hardened. “I never lied to you.”
“Please. Thirteen days? And what about the wanting different things. The realization you weren’t right for each other. You made it sound like a loss of interest
, when in fact it was the very opposite. She’d fallen in love with you!”
“I didn’t know— Damn it, she said—”
“Forget what she said, Connor! Anyone looking at her could see how she felt. Like apparently anyone looking at me can see the way I feel. She certainly did.”
His mouth snapped shut, his eyes losing the blaze of conflict altogether as his head began a slow shake of denial. “Megan. No—”
“Relax, Connor. I already know I made a mistake.”
“Megan—” Connor raked a hand through his hair, grabbed a fistful of it at the base of his skull and then shook out his hands.
What could he say?
Damn it, the look on Megan’s face earlier that night. She’d been trying so hard to compose herself, to keep it together, but the hurt he’d seen in her eyes... It went hand in hand with the watery emotion he’d seen the night she’d offered her commitment. It was everything he’d wanted to avoid. Everything he’d told her to avoid.
“What happened with Caroline was over before you and I even met.”
“I heard. By thirteen days.”
“Yes. Not that it should have mattered if it was thirteen hours,” he retorted. “This marriage is an arrangement between like-minded parties. It’s a partnership, not a love affair. I never lied to you or kept anything of importance from you.”
She looked at him then, almost stunned, as if she didn’t recognize him.
He didn’t like it. Not at all. She knew him already, understood him. What was happening tonight didn’t change anything.
“No. You didn’t. I’m the one who wasn’t honest.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he snapped.
“Don’t worry, Connor. The only person I lied to was myself.”
He should have let her go, but when she turned to walk away, he couldn’t stop himself from reaching for her arm. “This doesn’t change anything, Megan. All the reasons we make sense are still the same.”
Her eyes went to the spot where his hand circled the bare skin of her arm. “Have you stopped to consider, Connor, that you’ve been so fixated on showing me all the reasons this marriage could work, you haven’t really let yourself see the reasons it might not?”
“No,” he said more harshly than he’d intended. Then, grasping for the understanding he knew she deserved, he tried again. “Megan, you’re upset. Hurt. Embarrassed. I get it. But you’re too smart to let one night dictate your future.”
“You’re right. I am too smart to let a single night of discomfort get in the way of something real. Of course, we’re not talking about a single night, just like we aren’t talking about something real. So don’t even pretend we are.”
Stiffening, he took a step back. “Say it.”
Say it so he could start working her back from this place he wasn’t going to let them go.
Her shoulders squared. “I can’t be the wife you want.”
Too late. “You already are.”
“Then maybe it’s not me at all. Maybe it’s you. Maybe you aren’t the husband I want.”
His hand slid from her arm, all the arguments he’d been ready to throw at her suddenly abandoning him.
They were too right together. They made too much sense.
It was all this damn emotion he’d made it a point to avoid his whole life mucking everything up.
What they needed was some perspective.
“Let’s not do anything rash, okay? You need some space. Why don’t I get a suit and head to the office. I’ve got a call tonight anyway. I’ll stay there. You think. And then tomorrow night we’ll talk.”
Megan’s desolate gaze returned to his, and after a pause, she offered him a single nod.
* * *
They would be fine.
Megan was a practical woman. Realistic, Connor reassured himself as he grabbed a suit from his closet and packed a quick bag. She needed some space to get over her hurt. And then tomorrow—damage control.
Change of plan. He couldn’t afford the distance he’d been putting between them right now. So he’d close in again. Just a little. Just enough.
Bag packed, he shook out his hands and headed downstairs.
Megan was in the kitchen. He knew she wanted away from him, and yet he couldn’t stop from following the sounds of the refrigerator door closing, the clink of glass against granite, the quiet gurgle of pouring wine.
Rounding the corner, he found her standing against the counter, her glass sitting untouched beside her as she waited for him.
“Do you have everything?” she asked. Polite. Detached. Exactly the kind of considerate inquiry his ideal wife would offer.
Hollow. Too damn hollow to be coming from the woman he married.
“Almost.” He crossed to her in a single stride, pulling her into him and taking what was inevitably intended to be a protest for the opportunity it was.
Upturned face.
Parted lips.
The good-night kiss he couldn’t leave without.
Only, Megan’s lips were stiff and unyielding. She didn’t pull away. It might almost have been better if she had. Instead, she’d allowed the kiss to occur, taking it with the same cool detachment offered in her words.
That wasn’t how it was between them, and he might be a jerk for pressing the point tonight, but if he was going to give her the space to think, he wanted to be damn sure he’d left her with something to think about.
He brushed his lips back and forth against hers, knowing she thought to simply ride it out. Tolerate the intimacy. But rather than give up, he pulled her closer, sliding his hand up the silky expanse of her bare back to her neck. Burying his fingers in the soft strands of gold and gently coaxing her back, he deepened the kiss, licking softly into her mouth.
At her teeth, the corner of her mouth, her soft, wet tongue.
She didn’t want to respond. Didn’t want to give him anything. And still, he could feel the catch of her breath across his lips. The pull of her mouth against his when, on a weak moan, she surrendered.
“Megan,” he groaned, holding her tight.
Her tongue rolled softly with his, her mouth drawing at him. Taking. Giving. Until all the cold space was charged with the same current that had been running between them from the very first night—until he knew, even though he was leaving, this would stay with her.
When he pulled back, Megan wouldn’t look at him, but he could see the red flush of her cheeks.
Her hand fluttered over her lips, and she shook her head, finally meeting his eyes with the glittering rage of her own. “Have you ever stopped yourself from taking more than someone wanted to give?”
Her words shocked him. “That’s not—”
But her hand flew up, cutting him off as the first damning tear slid down her cheek—and suddenly there was nothing he could say. No defense. All he could do was watch as she disappeared around the corner in a swirl of dove-gray silk—knowing that lack of will on his part was going to cost him serious ground.
* * *
She had no defense against him.
Even seeing him coming. Bracing herself against his advance. Megan hadn’t stood a chance.
She’d crumbled beneath the assault of his kiss, praying he’d say something to make her feel better—to convince her things were other than they were—clinging to the very man she desperately needed to leave.
Only, Connor was exactly who she thought he was.
A man who could turn his feelings on and off with the flick of a switch.
A man who could walk away without a backward glance.
A man who could leave one woman and, in the span of a few days, move on to the next.
He was exactly the kind of man she’d sworn never to allow herself to be susceptible to again. And as if she’d been hardwired to seek out his special brand of abuse, she’d married him within hours of meeting.
The signs had all been there. Warnings left and right. Her mind flashed back to that first night out with Georgette—t
he awkward moment when the silence all but screamed there was more than she knew. But instead of listening to instinct—she’d actively dismissed the concern.
Because she hadn’t wanted to be cynical. Ha!
What she hadn’t wanted was to face the truth.
Disgusted, Megan slapped a layer of tape across the top of the box. Bit the cap off her marker pen and scrawled the address of her apartment in Denver at the top.
Then, stacking the box with the other two, she looked around her at the house she’d thought would be her home. She’d spent the night breaking down the life she’d begun to build there. Dividing her belongings into two categories. Her life. And her life with Connor.
It was only the belongings from the former she would keep. And of those, there was only a handful she could pack herself and still catch her flight. The rest she would coordinate with Connor once she was back in her own space.
She didn’t have any fantasies about being able to leave and wash her hands of him forever.
They were married, after all.
Legally bound.
They would need to talk. But not here. Not today.
Guilt burned through her as she thought of Connor returning to find her gone.
He’d be livid. Feel betrayed.
But Connor had become too proficient at manipulating her. And as evidenced by his infuriating kiss, she was simply too weak to resist. Which meant this was the only way.
She couldn’t afford to stay in a situation where her will had become a casualty of Connor’s desires.
She’d built her life around doing the smart thing. Being practical. Responsible.
It was one of the things that had drawn Connor to her in the first place.
But around him, she didn’t make the smart decision. She didn’t do the right thing.
When it came to her husband, she threw caution to the wind and gambled on the feel-good. Telling herself she knew what she was doing...even when she had no idea.
It wasn’t the life she wanted for herself. And it wasn’t the life she wanted for the child she planned to have. She owed them both more.
Which was why she was leaving. Before Connor had a chance to change her mind.