Strangers When We Married Page 8

  “You want to talk about it?”

  A shiver worked through him, and he wasn’t sure if it was the temperature of the room that made him cold, or the memory of his dream.

  He wore only boxer shorts beneath the blankets, and knew by his brief touch of Meghan that she was clad in something long-sleeved and flannel. Probably pajamas. She’d always liked pajamas.

  “You should be under the covers,” she said, apparently noticing his shiver.

  “You should turn up the furnace,” he countered dryly.

  She laughed, a low, sexy sound that instantly warmed him. “Seems like old times. The furnace fight was always predictable between us.”

  That wasn’t the only predictable thing between them, Seth thought. Also predictable was their overwhelming passion for one another, a passion that suddenly stirred inside him.

  In the darkness of the room, he could only see her silhouette, not her features. He leaned forward and reached out a hand and touched her hair. She went so still he thought she might not be breathing.

  He said nothing, not knowing what to say, only knowing the need to touch her. His fingers left her hair and trailed across her jawline. His index finger raked across her lower lip and she opened her mouth slightly. He could feel her warm breath and it heightened the desire that raced through him.

  Without questioning his action, without giving himself a chance to have second thoughts, he leaned forward and touched his lips to hers.

  The contact was whisper soft, and he had no intention of deepening the kiss until he felt her lips part as if in anticipation.

  He heard a groan, and was surprised to realize it came from him. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he pulled her closer, his mouth covering hers with a ravenous hunger.

  He half expected her to protest, to pull away…slap his cheek…stomp out of the room in a temper. She did none of those things. Unexpectedly, she leaned into him, meeting his hunger with her own.

  As she melted against him, he felt the thrust of her breasts beneath the thin flannel that separated them. He fought the impulse to reach up beneath her pajama top and capture their fullness and warmth in his palms.

  Instead he tangled his hands in her hair, reveling in the silky strands that curled around his fingers. He loved the feel of her hair, the smell of it…a clean, slightly fruity scent.

  He could drown in her, lose himself completely in the moist heat and sweetness of her mouth. His tongue darted against hers and he moved his hands from her hair to her shoulders.

  Warm. His body temperature was rising at an alarming rate and he knew if he ran his hands inside her blouse, touched her bare skin, he’d be on fire and completely out of control.

  Her hands moved across his bare chest, cool at first, but warming quickly as if filled with the heat from inside him.

  Think. Even as their kiss continued and he felt her acquiescence in the depth of her response, in the fluid feel of her body against his, someplace in the back of his mind he knew he had to think about what he was doing.

  If he made love to Meghan, things would only get more complicated. Nothing had changed between them. He still didn’t understand the sacrifice she demanded he make, a sacrifice he refused to make.

  “Meghan.” He broke the kiss and raked his lips against the length of her throat. “My sweet Meghan. Let me make love to you.”

  “Yes.” The single word hissed from her on a sweet sigh, and nearly drove him over the edge into the abyss of desire.

  Once again his hands tangled in her hair as he rained tiny kisses across the hollow of her neck. “You never could cook worth a damn, and your housekeeping skills were spotty, but you were the best lover I ever had.”

  Rigid.

  He didn’t know how it was possible for a living, breathing human body to become so stiff. She was rigid for only a moment, then she flew into action. She slammed her hands into his chest, knocking him backward. He grunted as his head banged into the wall behind him.

  “You are an insufferable bastard, Seth Greene,” she exclaimed as she jumped off the bed.

  He wished the lights were on, wished he could see the fire in those lovely eyes of hers, watch the freckles grow darker against the paling of her skin. She always paled when she was angry.

  “As if I’d be interested in making love to you again,” she scoffed disdainfully. “You were just fair as a lover, but since you left, I’ve certainly had better.” She headed for the door. “And it will be a cold day in hell before you’ll find me in your bed again.”

  Her exit would have been perfect…outraged, yet dignified, had she not stubbed her toe on the way out. She yelped and muttered a curse, then hobbled from the room. The hall light doused and a moment later he heard her bedroom door close.

  He released a deep breath, willing his body to relax, fighting to forget the taste of Meghan that lingered in his mouth.

  He’d done the right thing. He’d known his words would make her angry, would halt the quickening flood of desire that had threatened to drown them both.

  Staring up at the ceiling, he waited for his ardor to cool. Making love to Meghan would be wonderful, gratifying and utterly wrong. He couldn’t be the man she wanted, and she refused to accept the man he was.

  So, why…knowing all this, did his body still yearn for hers? Christmas crazies. It was the only rational answer.

  Chapter 7

  Meghan wasn’t sure which hurt worse, her toe or her pride. She suspected she might have broken her little toe. The nail was half torn away and it had swelled up to twice its normal size. But that injury was relatively insignificant next to her bruised and bloody pride.

  And she wasn’t sure who she was more angry with, Seth or herself.

  As she got into her own bed, her body still burned and her stomach ached with the need for fulfillment. It had been so long…so achingly long since she’d felt the warmth of male arms surrounding her, the heat of hungry lips against hers.

  And the thing that made her most angry was that she didn’t want just any arms around her. She didn’t want just any lips on hers.

  Seth. She wanted him—his arms, his mouth, him taking possession of her body and soul. She frowned. No, not her soul. Never again her soul. She’d given that to him once before, and he’d disregarded her gift and left her completely bereft.

  So, why did she still want him?

  She certainly refused to contemplate that she might still harbor any love for him.

  Familiarity. Surely that was the answer. Seth was the devil she knew, and she knew how utterly wonderful sex was with him.

  Inwardly fuming, his words echoed in her head. Couldn’t cook, wasn’t much of a housekeeper…surely he knew her well enough to know such sentiments spoken by him would make her mad.

  Turning over on her back, she stared at the darkened ceiling. So, why had he said such things? He’d spoken those words intentionally to anger her. There was no other reasonable explanation.

  He’d said them because he hadn’t really wanted to make love to her.

  The realization struck her like a slap upside the head. He didn’t want her. He didn’t want her cooking his meals, cleaning his house, but most importantly, he didn’t want her in his bed.

  A door she hadn’t realized was partially opened, slammed shut in her heart. The resounding bang of that door closing caused pain to shoot through her. The knowledge that he didn’t want to make love to her ever again ached deep within her.

  By the time she awakened the next morning, the ache was almost gone, buried beneath a healthy dose of anger. The sun was shining through her bedroom window with the promise of a beautiful, clear winter day. And with the sunshine came a clearing of her thoughts.

  As Meghan dressed she thought of those moments in Seth’s bed, when desire had flared nearly out of control.

  It had been a momentary lapse in judgment, brought on by the intimacy of the snow falling and the cracking fire, the emotional pleasure of decorating the tree with Seth and Kirk. The fa
mily facade had temporarily unsettled her, made her vulnerable.

  But the sun was melting the snow, just as the incident last night had dissolved any lingering belief that there could ever be anything between herself and Seth.

  He didn’t want her and she certainly didn’t want to be with a man who didn’t want her. But she couldn’t help still feeling angry when she thought of the insensitive words he’d uttered to chase her from his bed.

  She carried her anger as a shield as she left her room. She checked on Kirk, surprised to find him still sleeping, then went into the kitchen.

  Seth sat at the table, a cup of coffee before him. He was dressed in his usual pair of jeans and a gray sweater she recognized from the spare room closet.

  “Good morning,” he said as she entered the kitchen. She didn’t reply. “How’s your toe?” he asked. A tiny smile played at the corner of his lips, as if he’d found her clumsy, painful exit from his room the night before immensely amusing.

  She was not amused. “It’s fine.” She poured herself a cup of coffee and contemplated going into her office to work. Instead, feeling as if to retreat would somehow be a victory for him, she joined him at the table.

  She sipped her coffee and shot him a surreptitious glance over the rim of her mug. He looked well rested, as if he’d slept the sleep of the innocent. And she knew she looked haggard, having tossed and turned for most of the night.

  “Kirk still asleep?” he asked.

  “Yes, I checked on him a few minutes ago.” She frowned. “It’s unusual for him to sleep in. I hope he isn’t getting sick.”

  “We probably just wore him out yesterday with the tree decorating.”

  “Probably,” she agreed, then took another sip of her coffee.

  She wanted to ask him about his nightmares. In the seven months they had been married, she couldn’t remember Seth ever suffering a nightmare.

  Granted, the L.A. sting operation had been a failure, and some of their agents had been killed and wounded, but Seth had been involved in operations before that had been dismal failures and resulted in deaths.

  Besides, if his nightmare had really been about the L.A. sting, then why had the tortured cry that had pulled her from her bed to his sounded like a mournful wail of the word “dad”?

  She was trying to figure out how to ask him about it when Kirk awakened. She left the table and hurried into the bedroom where Kirk stood in his crib, crying plaintively for attention.

  “Mama,” he said, tears magically stopping as he lifted his arms toward her.

  “Okay, big guy.” She grabbed a clean diaper from the bag on the dresser, then changed Kirk and put him in a red turtleneck and a pair of denim overalls.

  “You want some breakfast?” she asked as she carried him down the hall to the kitchen. “How about an egg and some toast.”

  “Toast,” he echoed and nodded his head. Meghan’s heart clenched as she realized his sober little expression made him look amazingly like Seth.

  When she’d been carrying Kirk, she’d steadfastly refused to dwell on thoughts of the man who had sired him. She’d pretended Kirk had been the result of a miracle, or an anonymous donor from a sperm bank. He was hers…and nobody else had anything to do with him.

  But seeing Seth and Kirk together, there was no way to deny Seth’s genes, no way to pretend Kirk had come from any other source than from Seth.

  When they returned to the kitchen, Meghan scrambled an egg and made toast for Kirk while Seth entertained the little boy by making silly faces.

  The kitchen filled with the sounds of Kirk’s merriment as he and Seth played a game of peekaboo. Meghan placed Kirk’s plate before him, effectively ending the games.

  “I don’t get any breakfast?” Seth asked when she once again sat at the table.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Now why would you want a woman who can’t cook to make you anything to eat?” She was satisfied by the slight red that swept over his face.

  He sipped his coffee, then set the cup on the table. “I noticed one of the shelves in the bookcase in the living room is missing.”

  She nodded, surprised by his abrupt change of topic. “It needs some nails driven in. I just haven’t taken the time to do it.”

  “I’d be glad to fix it for you.”

  She knew what he was doing. Trying to apologize for his words the night before. She shrugged, as if not caring one way or the other. “If you want to fix it, the shelf is in the hall closet.”

  He sighed and stared into his coffee cup. “Meghan…about last night…”

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” she interrupted him. “Everything you said was true. I’m not a great cook and I don’t really care about hunting down every dust bunny in the house.” She eyed him boldly, defiantly. “But I am terrific in bed.”

  He grinned, his eyes twinkling wickedly. “At least on that we both agree.”

  “Oh heavens, I’ve improved greatly since our divorce,” she exclaimed, satisfied when his eyes wid ened slightly. The doorbell chiming was a welcome interruption.

  Meghan hurried to answer it. She wanted Seth to believe that life and love had gone on for her after he’d left, but if he dug too deeply, he’d realize there had never been another man who had been able to touch her as deeply, as profoundly as he had.

  She opened the front door. “David,” she said in surprise.

  “Hi, Meghan. I was doing a little last minute shopping and decided to drop in and see if you’d offer a weary shopper a cup of coffee.” He smiled, his brown eyes warm, but uncertain.

  Meghan hesitated, unsure what to do about Seth. At that moment the object of her concern stepped up next to her at the door. David’s smile faded, the uncertainty in his eyes growing deeper.

  “Hello.” Seth stuck out his hand and in his expression Meghan saw a hint of challenge. “I’m Meghan’s…”

  “Cousin,” Meghan exclaimed. “My cousin, Steve.”

  She’d had a feeling Seth had been going to introduce himself as her ex-husband. She wasn’t sure if she’d introduced him as Steve to protect him or simply to irritate him.

  The uncertainty in David’s eyes faded and he gripped Seth’s hand and gave him a friendly smile. “Well, it’s nice to meet a member of Meghan’s family.”

  “Come on in, I’ve got the coffee on,” Meghan said.

  “Pretty early to be out shopping,” Seth observed as they walked through the living room.

  “Not many shopping days left until Christmas. Besides, the early bird gets the best pick of sale items,” David replied.

  “Da!” Kirk grinned broadly at David as they entered the kitchen.

  “Hey, little guy.” David chucked Kirk beneath his chin and Meghan saw Seth’s features grow taut. Meghan watched Seth deftly maneuver himself between David and Kirk.

  He’s jealous. The realization stunned Meghan. Seth was jealous.

  As she poured David a cup of coffee, he sat down in one of the chairs at the table. “So, are you visiting Meghan for the holidays?” he asked Seth.

  “Steve comes to visit whenever he’s between jobs,” Meghan said. She smiled sweetly at Seth, whose features were growing more tense. “He visits fairly often. Of course, I don’t mind, him being family and all.”

  “That’s nice. It’s good for family to take care of family,” David said with a friendly smile. “I miss having family around during the holidays. All of mine are out in California.”

  “Plane tickets are fairly cheap,” Seth said evenly. “You could always go there.”

  “True,” David agreed. “But I also really enjoy being home during the holidays.”

  “Sounds like a Christmas song,” Meghan said as she placed a cup of coffee in front of the pleasant-looking, sandy-haired man.

  “So, what sort of business are you in, David?” Seth leaned against the center island and eyed the man at the table.

  “Accounting,” David replied. “I head my own accounting firm here in D.C.”

  “Sounds fas
cinating,” Seth said, and Meghan wondered if David picked up on Seth’s sarcasm.

  David laughed good-naturedly. “Of course it isn’t fascinating. In fact, most of the time it’s dreadfully boring. But I make a lot of money working nine to five and never have to bring my work home with me.”

  “Speaking of work.” Meghan turned to Seth and sent him a pointed glare. “Weren’t you going to see about fixing that shelf in the living room for me?”

  Seth frowned. “You mean right now?”

  Meghan smiled sweetly and nodded. “I really appreciate it, Steve.”

  She wasn’t sure why, but it was obvious Seth didn’t want to leave the kitchen. She knew it couldn’t be that he was somehow jealous about David and her. He’d made it clear the night before he didn’t want her.

  Kirk. That was the only explanation. Seth was afraid that somehow David might find a place in his son’s life when he had no place in Kirk’s life.

  She steeled her heart against an ache that suddenly appeared. Seth had made his choice, and she had made hers. Eventually Meghan wanted to marry again. She wanted to build a family for Kirk, for herself. And if and when that happened, Seth would just have to deal with it.

  With a nod to David, Seth left the kitchen, and Meghan wondered how it was possible for the man who had broken her heart to still somehow retain possession of the remaining pieces?

  Seth didn’t like him. As he found the shelf in the hall closet, he thought of the man seated at the kitchen table.

  He conceded that David wasn’t a bad-looking man, if one liked the pale, intellectual type. Still, he hadn’t liked the way David’s eyes had played on Meghan. Seth recognized the look…sheer hunger.

  With a frown, Seth went into the utility room and located a tape measure, an old hammer and a coffee can filled with nails.

  Meghan had certainly been quick to introduce him as cousin Steve. She’d obviously not wanted David to know she was sharing her home with her ex-husband.

  Aggravation ripped through him. She’d made him sound like some unemployed bum sponging off her. Not that he cared what dear David thought of him.