Meeting Megan Again

It was the same round robin of arguments he’d fought since his boyhood, and Tyler tiredly brushed his hand over his face. Coming to the reunion was a mistake. He didn’t know how to talk to these people, and Megan still affected him to the point of irrationality. Hell, he would have done anything to wipe the melancholy expression from her face when she was talking about Kara.

“By the way, is there anyone here you don’t know?” Megan asked. “It seems strange, I guess, since they’re your family, not mine. But you haven’t been…” She stopped, looking uncomfortable all over again.

“I’m slowly putting names to faces, though there are a few I don’t recognize, especially the kids,” Tyler said, ignoring the last part of her statement. They were both tiptoeing around the subject of his absence from the family. “And I haven’t seen Rick and Sue yet.”

At the mention of her mother- and father-in-law, Megan smiled and shook her head. “They aren’t coming. They decided to spend a year at a monastery in Colorado, finding their ‘inner peace.”’

Tyler lifted his eyebrows. “I guess they haven’t changed.” It was a polite way of saying Rick and Sue were just as flaky as ever. Nice, but flaky. He’d certainly liked them better than their son.

Brad…

Tyler’s hand tightened into a fist. He kept remembering Brad, probably because his cousin was inextricably connected to Megan, who was alive and standing close enough that his senses were infused with her uniquely feminine scent.

“I…” Tyler cleared his throat. He shouldn’t have thought about his close proximity with Megan. It wasn’t wise. “Actually, I don’t remember that guy,” he murmured, motioning to a man sitting among the other players.

“That’s Jack Carter. He’s an in-law, like me. Hey, Jack,” Megan called. “Come and meet Tyler.”

Jack came over and gave Tyler an affable grin. “Nice to meet you. My wife is Kara’s second cousin, once removed.” He looked at Megan and scratched his balding head. “Or is it third cousin, twice removed?”

“Second cousin, Jack. I’m glad you could make it.”

The two men shook hands, then Jack walked to the mound and proceeded to strike out spectacularly. He returned with the same friendly expression as before and stood next to Megan. They chatted about his growing family, which was about to increase again. Megan craned her neck and waved to her daughter’s second cousin, who’d been benched by eight months of pregnancy. Tyler did remember Antonia O’Bannon—now Carter—though she’d changed considerably in the intervening years.

“Your kids are beautiful, Jack,” Megan said.

She had the same wistful look she’d had when she’d watched Kara and nearly started crying. Tyler shifted uneasily and tried to think of ways to change the subject. Motherhood was a powerful thing, practically beyond male comprehension, or so he was told. And looking at Megan’s beautiful, yearning face, he was willing to believe it.

“Yup,” Jack agreed. “My looks and Toni’s brains. They got the best of both worlds.”

The outrageous statement startled Tyler, then he realized it must be a family joke. Jack was a pleasant-looking fellow, but Toni was so gorgeous she probably stopped traffic on a regular basis. It was one of the things that made him uncomfortable about these family gatherings—not knowing the inside jokes and reasons for laughing.

The inning ended with a single run scored by Kara, who was so proud she nearly burst when she landed on home plate.

They only earned one more run in the next five innings, with four scored by the opposing team. It left them two behind at the bottom of the seventh and final inning, softball being played with two less than standard baseball.

“Okay, we can still do it,” Megan said.

“Yeah, tomorrow or the next day,” Jack Carter said drolly.

“Ha. A defeatist attitude.” She shook her finger with mock severity. “I say we’re going to win.”

But it didn’t look promising when their first batter struck out. The next several plays earned them one run though, putting Tyler on third with Megan on second, and one out left. The next batter came up to the plate, making a big show of warming up. Megan called something from second and Tyler glanced at her, smiling faintly. Her spirit was infectious. He wanted to win the game, just for Megan.

Tyler didn’t even wait to see where the ball was headed when the next hit came. He just put his head down and charged for home plate. He hit the backstop, then turned and watched Megan racing for home.

Everyone was shouting and from the corner of his eye he saw Reece O’Bannon bringing his arm up to throw the ball.

“Slide, slide,” the team screamed in unison.

No. Tyler cringed at the thought of Megan hitting the dirt. Despite the growing chill in the late afternoon air she’d left her sweatshirt tied around her waist, so there was nothing to protect her arms or face. Not that she would slide. Women didn’t get that physical.

Putting on a burst of speed, Megan flung herself forward, hands outstretched. A split second later the catcher had the ball in hand, but not before she’d touched the plate, making the winning run.

For an instant Tyler sagged against the backstop, then he strode forward and hauled her to her feet.

“Are you all right?” he demanded.

“Of course.” She laughed and brushed dust from her T-shirt and jeans. A like amount of dust smudged her face, but it didn’t seem to bother her.

The rest of the team came out with a victory yell, along with the opposing players who cheerfully offered their congratulations. Tyler accepted his share of the praise, but he couldn’t keep from watching Megan.

He hadn’t wanted her to hit the dirt, because he hadn’t wanted to see her get hurt. Just then something on his hand caught his attention and Tyler looked down. A streak of red kicked the adrenaline in his veins into overdrive.

“Megan!”

He dragged her out of the family group and not-so-subtly examined her for injury. At the sight of a long scratch on her forearm, he scowled.

“Look what you did.”

“Oh, pooh.” She shook her head. “The cat does worse than that on a good day.”

“Then you should have the wretch declawed.”

Megan put a hand on her chest. “Sacrilege. Ninety percent of his personality is in the tips of his claws. It would be like Delilah cutting Samson’s hair.”

Tyler didn’t want to examine why he felt so protective of her. He’d spent a good deal of his adult life trying not to feel anything at all for Megan, and now his gut was twisted in a knot over a mere scratch. He did a mental calculation of the remaining three days of the reunion and groaned. If she could put him into a tailspin in just one afternoon, he was in serious trouble.

“I suppose the women you know would never slide into home plate,” Megan said after a moment. Her merry expression had altered subtly, becoming more cautious.

“Actually…no.”

“I’ll just have to survive not living up to such a high level of perfection,” she murmured.

Tyler wanted to explain it wasn’t a criticism, but she turned away before he could say anything.

“Grams,” she called. “I need to go back to the house early. Can you take Kara and Tyler in the van?”

“Of course, dear.”

He watched Megan’s departing back and sighed. Considering her impact on him, he ought to be relieved she was angry.

But he wasn’t. A part of him want to grab her and make her listen, then kiss her senseless. It wasn’t too civilized of him, but none of his feelings about Megan were civilized, so it wasn’t surprising.

“Going to do something about that?” asked a voice and Tyler turned his head.

“About what?”

Jack Carter smiled shrewdly. “About Megan.”

Tyler wasn’t about to answer. He definitely needed to do something about Megan…he just had to decide what that something might be.

Chapter Three

“That was a grand game,” Grady O’Bannon said contentedly. “I’ll be out there next year, just got sidelined by this darn shoulder of mine.”

Tyler nodded, still amazed that Grady was so active at his age. “I understand you got hurt golfing?”

The white-haired man leaned closer and put a finger to his mouth. “We were racing, and I tipped my cart over on a slope. Don’t tell Eleanor, or I’ll never hear the end of it. She says I’ll never grow up.”

“My lips are sealed.” Tyler hid a smile and swallowed some more of his coffee. Some things never changed, like Grady and his childlike enthusiasm for life. As a resentful teenager, Tyler had failed to recognize that wonderful quality. As an adult he was suitably impressed.

Dinner had been a delicious Irish stew, crowded with meat and vegetables in a flavorful gravy. Homemade rolls and cornbread had filled out the menu, followed by apple pie and ice cream. Simple, satisfying and easy for a large group.

It was getting late and Grady glanced across the room to where his wife and Megan were finishing a board game with Kara. At the same time a shadow crossed his face; Grady frequently looked at Eleanor—often with concern, always with love.

Tyler had tried pumping him for information on Eleanor’s health, but it seemed Grady was as much in the dark as the rest of the family.

Worry turned in Tyler’s chest and he sighed. He’d maintained contact with the elderly couple, but always on his terms. They’d respected his wishes, and now it was probably too late to change things.

“Well,” Grady said, “I hate to be an old fogey, but we’d better follow everyone to bed.”

“Good night, sir.” Tyler shook hands with the older man.

Eleanor persuaded a yawning Kara to join them as they headed for their rooms upstairs, leaving Tyler alone with Megan. The casual way they’d been left together didn’t surprise him; Eleanor might not be feeling in top form, but she was still a matchmaker of the first order.

Megan didn’t say anything, she just busied herself with putting the game back in the box.

“That was a delicious dinner,” he said, mostly to make her look at him.

“It’s all from Eleanor’s recipe file. She taught me to cook after Brad and I were married.”

“You didn’t know how?”

“No, I didn’t.” Megan slapped the lid on the game with unnecessary force. “Believe it or not, cooking isn’t programmed into the female brain, it’s something you have to learn.”

Over the years Tyler had developed an instinct for trouble, for knowing when things weren’t exactly the way they seemed. And something told him there was more to Megan’s vehemence than a knee-jerk feminist reaction.

“I was just making conversation,” he murmured.

Across the room he could see her take a deep, calming breath. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay, I owe you one after getting uptight over the magazine article.”

“The article wasn’t so bad,” she said.

He snorted. “The Sexiest Man in America? I could strangle that writer.”

Megan thought there were worse things than being called sexy—like not being sexy. She wiggled her fingers, noting the short, practical nails and chapped skin from working in the kitchen and garden. But it wasn’t so bad, she was Kara’s mother, which counted the most. And she belonged to a terrific family, even if it was only by marriage.

“People write articles to sell magazines,” she said absently. “Kara has six copies of it stashed under her bed. And she and her friends have your picture taped to their bathroom mirrors.”

“Ohmigod. You aren’t serious, are you?”

The groaning note in Tyler’s voice brought Megan’s head up and she smiled faintly.

“Afraid so. But don’t tell Kara I told you. She’d be mortally embarrassed. And it’s no worse than boys drooling over pictures of half-naked models and actresses. Anyway, it’s the age they’re at—you know, the age between birth and college graduation?”

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