Читать книгу Waking Up Married - Mira Kelly Lyn - Страница 11

CHAPTER FIVE

MEGAN’S LIPS WERE PARTED, revealing that bit of wet just beyond the pale swell he wanted to run his thumb across. But Megan didn’t remember him. Which meant, though she’d taken vows, signed her name, worn his ring and climbed all over him the night before...this morning, she didn’t belong to him.

He understood it.

Accepted it.

Only, when she looked into his eyes the way she was now. When her breathing changed the smallest degree, and the color morning had leached from her skin pushed back into her cheeks, it felt an awful lot like she was.

Like on some level she knew what they’d had between them. And wanted it again.

He could show her how it had been. Kiss her until they were both senseless and she was begging him like she had—

Her breath caught. “I should find my dress.”

Or he could wait. Damn it.

Moving back, Connor shoved his hands into his pockets.

Those big blue eyes were crawling away again, scanning the space around them as though salvation could be found in some dark corner of the room. Only, then they brightened as a small squeak escaped her, and Connor realized she’d found her dress.

“Thank God. I figure I pretty well earned this walk of shame, but seriously, I didn’t want to have to do it in a robe.”

Again Connor felt a smile pushing at his lips. She had a sense of humor. One he appreciated.

“Walk of shame, eh. I don’t know if married women qualify.”

Megan cringed at the words he’d been trying out on his tongue. Testing the feel of in his mouth.

They hadn’t been bad or bitter or totally out of place, and he wondered if they might be an acquired taste he was warming up to. Something to encourage his wife to try.

Megan worried her bottom lip. “Looking at this dress, I definitely qualify.”

As sexy and smooth as it had been draped over her curves the night before, the wrinkled garment barely ranked above a rag this morning.

“I can call down to the concierge and get you one sent up—”

Megan choked, “Wait, don’t—I’ll wear one of your shirts or something”

“I like the idea of you wrapped up in one of my shirts...quite a lot. But first let’s have breakfast.”

This time it was Megan at a loss for words, and he savored it for the full second and a half he had before she’d found her new tack. “I can’t stay for breakfast. I’ve got a wedding today. A real wedding.”

Connor stiffened. “As opposed to the fake—and yet legally binding—variety from last night.”

Apologetic eyes drifted back to him. “I only meant—”

He put up a hand, waving off her apology. “I know what you meant. One they’d planned. And I know you’re freaked out and more than a little desperate to get out of here and collect your thoughts, but, Megan, we’re married. We need to discuss this. You’ve got hours before Gail’s expecting you. We’ll have some food to settle your stomach. Talk. Call it a—getting-to-know-your-husband date?” At her hesitation, he asked, “Come on, you’re too much of a control freak not to have questions.”

The look in her eyes said it all. She had a million of them. But there was more than curiosity in those crystal depths. There was fear, as well. As if somehow, she was afraid of what she might learn.

“Megan, come on. I can’t be that bad.”

“I don’t think you’re bad. I’m just confused and overwhelmed and...” She squared her shoulders. “I’m not entirely sure a getting-to-know-you anything makes much sense, all things considered.”

All things considered.

Code for the lawyers again. Divorce.

Connor cocked his jaw to the left and crossed his arms, looking hard at the woman he’d married the night before.

No doubt a divorce would be the simplest solution.

He could let her go. Put a couple of his lawyers on it, have the whole situation resolved quietly and quickly.

She didn’t remember him. Them.

So really it would almost be as if the whole thing never happened.

Except he’d remember. He’d know.

Putting up a shrug, Connor made a decent show of nonchalance as he pulled the ace from his sleeve. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Besides, if you need to talk, I’m sure Jodie and Tina would be happy to lend an ear. You’ve got, what, four hours to kill before they get their hands on another distraction?”

Megan’s startled gaze snapped to his. “Do they know?”

Oh, yeah, wifey wasn’t going anywhere. Not for a while, anyway.

“They know you and I left the bar together. And you didn’t come back to the suite you were sharing last night. So I’d say they know enough to make me the lesser evil on option this morning.”

“The lesser evil?” Her brow quirked, leaving her mouth to hint at the smile and laughter that had gotten them into this mess. “Wow, you sure know how to sell yourself.”

Making him want more.

“Don’t have to,” he said, crossing the bedroom. “Not when I’m up against those two.”

Her stare narrowed on him as she followed. “Fine. You win. Let’s play getting-to-know-you.”

Connor did his best to rein in the victorious grin working over his mouth, and swung open the bedroom door.

The master suite was situated at the end of the second-level hall, overlooking the main living space where marble and glass gleamed in contrast to rich jewel-toned fabrics, heavily carved wood and silk-covered walls.

Megan’s steps faltered, the shock on her face this morning even better than it had been the night before.

“So, Megan. The first thing you should know about me...”

“Uh-huh, yes?”

“I don’t want a divorce.”

* * *

“Just give it a try?” Megan asked, sputtering at the insanity of Connor’s suggestion, casually tossed out as he’d perused an elaborate breakfast spread in the dining room. “You’re crazy.”

Glancing up from the coffee he’d stirred a generous portion of cream into, he grinned. “Exactly what you said last night. Of course, there’d been a whole lot of breathless ‘yes, please’ tied up in ‘you’re crazy’ then.”

Her eyes rolled skyward. She could only imagine the circumstances. Didn’t want to imagine them. But couldn’t seem to help it. In fact, every time her gaze touched on those criminally captivating lips...she started imagining all over again. Imagining, but not remembering.

“Last night I was forty percent alcohol by volume. Last night doesn’t count.”

Another shrug. “It counts to me. And if you’ll sit down and have something to eat, I’ll tell you why it counts to you too.”

Handing her the coffee, he nodded at the tray of pastries, fresh fruit, cheeses and breads he’d brought to the table. “Trust me on this, you want the food in your stomach first.”

Connor selected a croissant, set it, a tiny ceramic crock of butter and another of jam on a china plate with a silver knife, and pushed it in front of her. “Eat.”

She looked at it warily, not really wanting to eat anything at all after the way her morning had begun.

She was nervous. Frustrated. And more than a smidgen concerned about Connor’s apparent commitment to this monumental mistake.

He didn’t want a divorce. She didn’t get it. It didn’t make sense.

“You don’t know me,” she began with a slow shake of her head. “Even if I’d talked your ear off from the minute we met until my little pilgrimage to the porcelain god...you couldn’t really know me. My beliefs, my hang-ups, my shortcomings.”

Connor heaved a sigh and met her eyes. “I know you wanted a conventional family, and I know, while you’re friends with the men you date, you’ve never actually fallen in love. Same as me, that fairy-tale connection people go after like junkies looking for their next fix isn’t a part of your makeup. I know you’re tired of making yourself vulnerable again and again, hoping each time things will end differently. And I know you’ve figured out what you really want is a child, and you don’t need a husband to get one.”

Okay, so maybe he knew her a little.

Megan sat back in her chair, watching this virtual stranger reach for her plate, rip a corner off her croissant, butter it and, as though he hadn’t just relayed her deepest secret and greatest failures, hold it out in offering.

“Eat, while I clear a few things up between us.”

Tentatively she took the bite, letting the flakes of rich, buttery pastry dissolve on her tongue.

“For the record, I’ve been interested in settling down for some time. But contrary to what the evidence might suggest, marriage isn’t something I take lightly or would jump into without serious consideration.”

When she opened her mouth to call him on that last bit, he lifted a staying hand and went on.

“Marriage is the foundation of a family, and I want mine to be rock solid. I want the security—for my children, and really us both as well—of knowing it won’t crumble under some needy, emotional pique or the whims of a fickle heart. So I’ve been waiting for a woman with a specific sense of priority.”

His brow pulled down as he stared at the table and then looked back to her with a knowing expression. “And before you start thinking I was just some man on the make last night, out trawling for a wife, I wasn’t. I wasn’t looking for anything but the good time we were having. And then, it just hit me. You were the one.”

“The one.” There was a whole lot of weight in that statement. More than she’d expected to be shouldering through this weekend trip to Vegas.

“Yes. Now, let me tell you how much I respect your plan to prioritize your child over the instinct to find a mate.”

She gulped.

Wow, if she’d told him that, she’d really told him everything.

“It takes time to build a relationship. If you have a child, it’s time you’ll be taking away from him or her. And what if it gets serious?” he asked, buttering another small piece of croissant. “You introduce little Megan to this guy, but then it doesn’t work out. Now you aren’t the only one who’s let down. It’s your daughter or son, as well. Plus, there’s the whole post-breakup emotional slump to contend with. No picnic for a single mom, or the little person more in tune with her feelings than anyone else on the planet. That this isn’t the kind of emotional cycling you want your child to go through says a tremendous amount about you. And, like I said, I respect it.”

He’d spoken casually, seemingly at ease, and yet there was an intensity about him as he relayed this bit of perspective on her plan that implied a level of empathy beyond what she’d expect.

A part of her wanted to ask him about his past. About his parents. Things she wondered if they’d discussed the night before. Only, to do so would open more doors, and she was already confused enough without adding images of this powerful man as a vulnerable child to the mix.

Connor reached out to offer her the next bite and she caught his wrist in her hand. “I don’t understand. If you respect my plan so much, how did we end up married?”

Those dark eyes held with hers. “Because what I offered you was the best of both worlds without the risk of the worst.”

“How?”

“Simple. This thing between us, Megan. It’s not about love.”

Her chin pulled back as she absorbed the words. Felt them wash through her with the same kind of phantom familiarity she’d been experiencing on and off with Connor since she’d woken in his bed. Only, this time, something about it wasn’t entirely comforting. Almost like a piece of the puzzle that was her missing experience had been put into place sideways and didn’t quite fit.

Maybe it simply wasn’t what she’d expected him to say, though why not, she didn’t know. Surely she hadn’t believed this man who married her within hours of their meeting had fallen in love with her. Talk about crazy. Still, somehow hearing him say it left her feeling...confused.

So she asked, “If it’s not about love, then what?”

Connor gave her a satisfied grin. “All the vital components that make a relationship successful, without any of the emotional messiness to drag it down. It’s about respect, caring and commitment. Shared goals and compatible priorities. It’s about treating a marriage like a partnership instead of some romantic fantasy. It’s about two people liking each other.”

Liking each other. What this man was suggesting was what she’d had in most every relationship she’d attempted. With one major difference. In those relationships, neither she nor the man she’d been dating believed it was enough. Whereas with Connor... “So, you’re saying it’s about expectations. If we limit them, no one’s disappointed.”

“Embrace them,” he corrected, “because they work for us.”

She nodded, saying the words slowly. “A partnership.”

Of course, this man wouldn’t want anything more from her.

He frowned as he met her eyes. “I’m not talking about some relationship without any caring. I’m talking about improving on friendship. Without turning it into something neither of us is capable of delivering on.”

“If what you’re looking for is a friend, surely, Connor, you must have hundreds to choose from. Women you know better. Trust more. Women who want this.”

Connor stared at her a moment, considering his words before he spoke them. “But I want you. The truth is, there isn’t another woman I know better. At least not as it applies to core beliefs and priorities. You didn’t have some ulterior motive when we met. You didn’t know who I was or what I had or what you thought I wanted. In fact, from the start, the most consistent thing about you has been your unwavering honesty, even when it didn’t suit your needs. I got to know the you who didn’t want a relationship. I like what I’ve learned about you, Megan. The independence. The sharp wit. The easy laugh and intelligent conversation. The authenticity.

“Sure, the historical events that made you the woman you are today are still a mystery, but what you want and who you are and how we get along... Those things I know. I like.”

She swallowed. “Because of last night.”