Mira Lyn Kelly - Just Say Yes

Standing unnoticed in the doorway, he considered his alternatives.

He could walk across the room and take advantage of her distraction. Pull her blond mess to the side and start with her neck, close his mouth over the spectacularly sensitive spot behind her ear and work his way forward from there...

Or he could go order some dinner—because based on what he was seeing, he’d bet food hadn’t even crossed her mind. And when he took his kiss...he wanted Megan paying attention.

Running a hand over the back of his neck, he turned away.

“Connor?”

Her voice was overloud and she was staring at him, looking adorably confused.

He tapped his ear and she pulled the bud from her own.

“Hey, gorgeous. How was your day?”

He’d meant the compliment, but Megan seemed to have taken it tongue in cheek—her face blanching as her hands went to her hair and then those silky pajamas that told more secrets than they kept.

Only, then the most interesting thing happened. That flash of embarrassment faded and something that looked a lot like challenge took its place. “I get caught up in my work...I lose track. It can be irritating for some people.”

Ah, more with the disclosures. Whatever it took.

“You near a good stopping point if I call in Chinese?” he asked, sensing the time to wrap things up would put her in a better place to break for the night. It was how it would be with him.

“You wouldn’t mind?” Her eyes shot back to his, infinitely softer than they’d been only seconds before.

“I better not—tables’ll be turned soon enough.” No question. “I’ll order and grab a quick shower. Meet me downstairs when you’re ready.”

At her slight frown, Connor stopped. “Something wrong?”

“You don’t want your kiss?”

“Oh, I want it,” he assured, giving in to the grin hovering around his lips. “But not until I’ve got your undivided attention. So wrap it up.”

* * *

The door closed and Megan stared at her computer, relieved by Connor’s easy acceptance of her distraction and yet unable to shake the doubts. The sense that if it wasn’t this that opened Connor’s eyes to a future he didn’t want, then it would be something else. Eventually.

She didn’t want to think that way. There was so much right between them, and yet, a part of her couldn’t buy in. A part of her saw the calm mask Connor wore when she showed him something he, by all rights, ought to dislike—and wondered what lay hidden beneath.

Sure, getting tied up with work this evening wasn’t such a big deal. But it didn’t seem to matter what she said or did. As if no bad habit or personal shortcoming even registered. As if maybe Connor was so determined to prove how perfectly suited for this marriage they were that he’d turn a blind eye to anything that didn’t fit.... Until one day he wouldn’t be able to do it anymore.

What happened then?

God, she wanted to believe. But with so much at stake, she needed Connor to acknowledge more than some illusion of perfection. She needed to know he was really seeing her.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“SHE MADE YOU WHAT?” Jeff choked through the line.

Connor shook his head at Megan’s latest attempt to confront him with a reality she expected him to reject. Her latest failed attempt.

“Creamed tuna on mashed potatoes. With peas.” Canned, boxed and frozen. He knew because she’d left the containers in plain view on the counter. “Apparently it’s one of those old family favorites she just has to have once in a while.”

“No. Way.”

The last time he’d heard that kind of awe in Jeff’s voice, the man had just watched a supermodel bungee off the Verzasca Dam in Ticino, Switzerland, tossing him a wink and blown kiss before taking air.

“Damn, she’s serious about shaking you.”

Connor bristled, reining in the growl currently threatening his cool. “If she’s so serious she ought to come up with something more substantial than dinner. Like I’m going to bolt because she served me less than five-star cuisine. Come on.”

It was an insult to both of them.

“You ate it?”

“Of course I ate it,” he scoffed, surprised Jeff would even ask. “She made it for me.”

And he’d finished every bite, as if it was manna from heaven.

Then giving in to a reluctant chuckle, he added, “But I have to admit that gelatinous puddle—which even Megan didn’t eat, by the way—was without question the worst thing I’ve ever shoveled into my mouth.”

“Dude.”

Half an hour later, thoughts of tests and frustrations had been put aside. Connor strode into the kitchen, working his tie and collar open, stare locked on the delectable curve of Megan’s backside, showcased in a pair of clingy yoga pants as she—oh, hell—checked what looked like a lasagna in the oven...but smelled, wow, more than a shade off.

Not. Again.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he said, announcing his presence a second before sliding his hands over the sweet curve of her hips. He needed a reminder as to why he was going to choke down the coming atrocity. An incentive of sorts.

With his hands coasting over her hips and waist, she swung the steel door closed and started to turn as he said, “How about my welcome-home— Gah!”

Connor’s head jerked back as he was hit with the one-two punch of Megan’s smiling face covered in some kind of bottom-of-the-vegetable-drawer-looking half-dry paste...and the accompanying rotting stink of it.

“Your kiss?” She laughed, patting him gently on the chest and then casting him a mischievous wink as she stepped out of his hold. “Sorry to surprise you with the swamp-thing mask, but I do one weekly,” she offered with a little shrug.

“Weekly.” God, he couldn’t even imagine coming face-to-face with this odor on a regular basis. Daring a closer look, he leaned in and ran his finger along one tacky cheek. “What’s it do?”

Megan shrugged. “Um...well, it tightens your pores. And removes impurities. Keeps the skin looking smoother. Younger. More healthy.”

Hmm. Half the time he was with her she wasn’t wearing any makeup, and she was beautiful. Her skin flawless with those pale freckles sprinkled around it. Maybe it was the mask?

“Interesting.” Then waving his hand in front of his face, he asked, “So what other beauty secrets should I be looking forward to?”

He’d never asked any of the other women he’d dated about their mysterious feminine rituals, but then, he’d never been curious before. And of course, he’d never been this up close and personal to one either.

Arms crossed, she gave him a scrutinizing look. After a beat, “Waxing.”

“Really.” His gaze drifted down the line of her body, curiosity on the rise about every potentially smooth, bare strip of skin.

This time it was Megan circling a hand round her face, her all-challenge smile gone full tilt. “Really.”

Confusion first. Then understanding. His chin snapped back. “Really?”

Megan arched a delicate brow at him. “Why, it doesn’t bother you, does it?”

He might have mistaken her look as playful—if not for the glint of steel in her eyes.

His good humor and amused intrigue shut down.

Another test.

Three weeks and he hadn’t proven a damn thing to her. Hadn’t made the slightest headway in easing her concerns. And it was starting to chafe. Pull and rub against the seams of who he was—to the point where something had to give.

But not him.

“I know what you’re doing, Megan.”

She stared at him a beat. Bracing.

Good idea. She was going to need it, because he had a point to make.

He started toward her, letting his mind peel away the layers of defense she’d erected. The mask, the tests, until the only thing he saw was the woman who’d stared up at him that first night. “I know what I want, Megan.”