Just Say Yes

Casting a glance over her shoulder, she saw his eyes were serious. And so close.

“Yes, I would.”

Looking back at the dress before she turned around completely and did something monumentally stupid—which, considering her marital status, was really saying a lot—she pulled open the thin, protective plastic. Stroked her fingers over the silver, above-the-knee sheath.

Connor cleared his throat. “Camp.”

She shot another look back. “What?”

“I don’t like the idea of sending the kids away for extended periods of time.”

“But camp’s a treat. Once they’re old enough, of course. They have so many incredible programs out there. Nature camps. Space camps—”

“Yeah, arts, football, gymnastics, and everything else a little boy or girl could be interested in.” Shoving a hand through the dark silk of his hair, he let out a sigh. “I still don’t like the idea, but I’ve given on the point already.”

Her brows lifted along with the corners of her mouth as she turned to face him completely. “Wow. Any other small victories I should know about?”

“Christmas at home. Every year. All of us. Period.”

She let out a small gasp, her hand moving to her heart in genuine shock. “You fought against...Christmas?”

Those dark eyes softened, crinkling at the corners. “Please wipe the ‘he hates puppies’ look off your face. I didn’t want to count out a trip somewhere exotic. But your arguments were compelling, so it was a compromise easy to make.”

Wow, he was so—

Wait.

Her eyes narrowed on him. “And now you’re showing me how reasonable you are with all your willing concessions. Do you ever stop?”

Yes, she was fully aware of just how unreasonable her response to this man giving her exactly what she’d asked for was. But based on the twisted smile playing on his lips, Connor didn’t seem to mind.

“Not until I get what I want.”

She was getting lost in his eyes, feeling herself drawn closer with every minute they spent together. “And you want me.”

Connor leaned in, closing the distance between them until the heat of his body was licking over hers. She swayed, suddenly breathless. The palm of his left hand flattened against her spine.

“I’ve got you.” His voice was a low rumble against her ear, the contact between them almost a kiss before he stepped back and handed her the dress. “What I want is to keep you.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

WITH HER HAIR AND MAKEUP already done, Connor had barely gotten his arms through the sleeves of his tuxedo shirt before Megan was stepping out of the master bath again. This time decked out in the metallic-silver bridesmaid dress that left nearly the full length of her toned legs on perfect display.

Damn.

Megan shifted under his scrutiny, smoothing her hands over her hips with downward strokes probably intended to eke out a few millimeters of additional coverage.

Not happening.

“I had nothing to do with picking out this dress.”

As if he needed her to tell him. If Megan had been picking, he imagined she’d have selected something deceptively conservative. Like the dress she’d been wearing the night before. At first glance it had looked modest enough, but when he let his eyes linger for even a moment, the seductive hints had time to make an impact. The cut of the back, the line of the waist. The cling and fall, emphasizing all the right curves. Megan had an eye for what flattered her, but she managed it in a stylish, understated way. Something he liked.

Well, hell. He liked this dress too. But it was a different sort of appreciation happening here.

“Let me guess. Tina?” he asked, thinking it had to be she of the GOT SPERM T-shirt behind this kind of flash.

Megan smirked. “You’d think. But believe it or not, this was all Jodie. Something about the dress being a gift to us single girls.”

“Bridesmaid’s gift?”

“Jodie was convinced these dresses would give us the pick of the casino.”

Connor let out a bark of laughter. “Well, she’s got that right. And might I mention how utterly pleased I am you’ve decided to bring me along tonight. Especially considering the hard time I’d have had letting you out of my sight otherwise.”

A wash of pink tinged Megan’s cheeks as the smallest smile played at her lips. “Are you the jealous type?”

“Let’s call it possessive.” Her lids lifted, and seeing the pleasure in her eyes at his statement, he added, “But only when something is very important to me.”

Pearly-white teeth pressed into Megan’s lush little bottom lip as she turned away, fidgeting with the studs and links he’d set out on the polished mahogany dresser top. Her hair wound up the way it was, she couldn’t hide the pretty color suffusing the skin along her neck and ears. And he couldn’t fight the rush of pure masculine satisfaction at having driven it there.

After arranging everything into a neat row, Megan turned back to him. Her cheeks showing only the barest hint of her remaining blush. “I should get my shoes on. And you...”

She bent a little, reaching for the shoes set neatly at the wall. Stood, shifted and tried again. Pulled at the hem riding higher with each attempt.

Wow. Thank you, Jodie.

Flustered, Megan cleared her throat. Clearly working to maintain her poise.

“You should finish getting dressed yourself.” She waved at his open shirt, her eyes lingering even as she turned her head. “We’ve got to get going pretty quickly.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he said again, making a mental note, once this better-than-a-late-night-cable-show was over and they left the villa, not to let Megan bend over for anything.

Catching on to his level of distraction, Megan shot him a scathing glare...one that quickly dissolved into laughter. “This is ridiculous. Stop staring so I can get my shoes!”

Then, eyes to the ceiling, she muttered something adorably mild about men and Jodie and wishing she had a parka.

“Okay, low of me,” he conceded, not even trying to make it believable. “I’m sorry.”

“Right.” She laughed, only, the sultry sound of it died on her lips as he stepped close, catching her hips in his hands, giving in to the temptation to flex his fingers...just once.

Megan’s eyes went wide at the undeniably intimate contact, and he waited, gauging her response.

When she didn’t push him away, he backed her toward the edge of the bed. “Why don’t you sit, and I’ll help you with the shoes.”

* * *

Megan perched at the edge of the bed, still reeling from the feel of Connor’s hands sliding over her hips, moving the fabric against her skin as he guided her to where he wanted her to be. She shouldn’t have allowed it. Should have done more than stare up at him helplessly. But something inside her wouldn’t react to Connor as a stranger.

Her body remembered him...even if her mind did not.

She wanted him. This sexy barefoot man, dressed in black tuxedo pants and a crisp, white shirt hanging dangerously open as he teased her. And for the first time, she understood the kind of mind-numbing allure that led women to make the worst decisions of their lives. And smile about it after.

Connor swept up her shoes with a finger through the straps and then knelt in front of her to lift her foot. “Do they hurt after all the walking last night?” he asked, running his thumb around her heel and then up through her arch.

She stared, too caught up in the intimacy of the scene and how shockingly good it felt to respond with more than the barest shake of her head.

“Good.” Eyes locked with hers, he slipped the point of her shoe over her toes, gently fitting the heel and running a lazy circle around her ankle with his thumb. She watched, breathless, as his large hands deftly worked the delicate glass-beaded strap through its buckle.

So unbelievably sexy.

It was unreal.

It was...a fairy tale. Which was bad.

This man was telling her their marriage was based on the kind of up-front honesty and pragmatic realism that kept expectations attainable. And yet, everything about him—his incredible looks, his wealth, his knack for saying exactly what she needed to hear and, most of all, his romantic overtures—screamed too good to be true.

So what was she doing buying into the charade?

Letting herself see them years from now, chatting as they dressed together for some coming event.

Connor’s finger slipped beneath the buckled strap. “Okay?”

“Perfect.” Like everything else he’d shown her. Only, nothing and no one were actually perfect.

Connor’s mouth pulled into a rueful slant. “You make perfect sound like it’s not such a good thing. And like you aren’t talking about your shoe.”

But she was talking about the shoe, only not the way it fit.

“You’re telling me this marriage between us is going to work because we aren’t bringing any fairy-tale expectations into it. But here you are, down on one knee, fitting a glass slipper on my foot. Everything you do and say is like some fantasy come to life...which makes it hard to know what reality is actually going to feel like.”

Connor gave her a thoughtful nod and set down her bejeweled foot. “I admit, I’m making every effort to sweep you off your feet. I want you to fall for me.”

He picked up her other foot, giving it the same attention as the first. “But if it puts your mind to rest, I’m pretty sure Prince Charming wasn’t using the old shoe excuse just to get his hands on his wife’s leg.”

Buckles complete, he let his hands skim up over her calves, stroking a light path behind her knees as he went on. “What’s more, based on the target audience for those stories, I’d really hope he wasn’t entertaining the kind of thoughts running through my mind as I watched you wrestling your short skirt. Because there was nothing PG about where my head was at.”

“Really?”

A nod. “Strictly X stuff. I promise.”

“Connor.” His name was a plea on her lips, and the moment it sounded, the humor in his eyes faded and the lines of his face hardened.

“We’re good together, Megan. It’s not about glass slippers or fairy tales or love at any sight. It’s not about private schools or mutual goals or any of the other things we’ve talked about today. It’s about you and me fitting together. It’s about this feeling of rightness you told me about last night. The one I’ve had since I met you. And I keep seeing signs of it today. Tell me. Tell me you feel it too.”

“I feel it.” The connection was there. Undeniable between them.

But whether feeling right together for one day was the same as actually being right together through the rest of their lives...

“I just don’t know—” The words died in her throat at the sight of the burning heat staring down at her. The desire blazing in his eyes. Desire for her.

The same desire firing through her body, spilling hot through her center and filling her mind with a smoky haze. Suddenly she wanted those big hands everywhere on her. She didn’t want to worry about good judgment or long-term consequences. She simply wanted this man, whose promises sounded too good to be true, to deliver on the one in his eyes.

“Connor,” she whispered, drawing her leg slowly in, and the man with it. “You make me want...”

God, she couldn’t say it. Couldn’t even think it. All her rational thought was tangled up in the rising awareness between them, the slow glide of his touch over her skin, the need simmering between them.

And then he was off the floor, one hand moving from her leg to brace on the mattress beside her hip. The other climbing to the outside of her shoulder, so all she could do was lie back, staring into his eyes as his large body moved over her own. His knee replaced his left hand at her hip, and she was surrounded.

He was so close she could feel the heat radiating off his body, the wash of his breath against her jaw, the tickle of his open shirt grazing her arms. Decadent. Intimate. Too seductive to resist. Her fingers closed around the draping fabric, pulling him toward her until only the barest space remained.

She pulled again. A subtle nudge. Then a stronger tug, but all it earned her was another one of those devastating half smiles and the slow shake of Connor’s head as he reached into his pocket and withdrew her ring.

Braced on one arm and his knees above her, Connor slid his free hand up her left arm, rolling the glinting diamond band along the path of her skin until he held it poised above the tip of her ring finger, so close she could feel an almost magnetic pull from the wanting.

It would be so easy to give in. Give him what he wanted. What, on some level, she wanted too.

Let him slide that platinum band over her finger, and say yes to what would inevitably feel good in the moment, but had the potential to devastate if she wasn’t careful.

Forcing the air in her lungs to move again, she managed a single word. “Wait.”

Connor’s smile quirked suggestively. “Nervous? I promise I’ll be gentle. I’ve done this before.”

Her eyes closed as she once again found herself relieved by his sense of humor and ability to lighten the mood without undermining the seriousness of what was at stake.

Finding more breath, she whispered, “We can’t. Not yet.”

“Why not? We’re already married.” His voice dropped lower as he lightly teased the diamond band around the tip of her finger. “I can tell you want it.”

Yes, right then, she did. But wearing his ring meant giving up her plans. Giving up the security of a future she could control completely. Giving up a promise she’d made to herself...for the chance of something so much more.

Connor was poised above her, his sharp gaze studying her every minuscule reaction. Hesitation. Blink, blush and tremor.

Tentatively, she placed her free hand against the center of his chest. His bare skin was shades darker than her own. Hot. Firm. Tempting her toward reckless action just to ensure she had more time to enjoy it.

But that simply wasn’t who she was. If he knew her at all, he would understand.

“I’m not ready. I’m not sure I can give you what you’re asking for.”

A nod. Then, “Wear it anyway. You’re still my wife for now. Why not try the whole package on for size and see how it feels?”

Her gaze drifted over to the band of diamonds so close to sliding home. Each flawless stone throwing off light in all directions. It was exquisite.

Nothing could compete with this ring.

Swallowing once, she peered back up at Connor, who waited above her, the possessive intent in his eyes making her ache to give in. But she couldn’t do it.

“It’s probably better if I don’t.” Trying to match his lighter tone, she curled her fingers into her palm and dodged, “And about this whole being-married thing. I was thinking we might not mention it. Let everyone think I’m just a cheap floozy rather than the honest woman you’ve made me.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

CONNOR SWALLOWED, his body going still. “You don’t want them to know.”

Guileless eyes met his. “I’d prefer they don’t.”

And then she was wiggling out from beneath him. Crawling off the bed from one side as he backed off from the other, returning the ring to his pocket.

Megan stood in front of the bureau mirror frowning at the few hairs out of place from their brief roll in the sack. They had to leave soon, and considering he’d actually hired someone in to sculpt her hair into perfection, it made sense she’d be trying to fix her look.

But suddenly all he could see was a woman concerned with her image, and for the first time he wondered if he didn’t really know her after all.

He shook his head. It couldn’t be right.

“I thought you didn’t lie.”

It was the quality in her he appreciated above all others. It was important to him.

One brow shot high as she turned to meet his eyes. “I don’t. But that doesn’t mean I walk around regurgitating every personal detail of my existence without prompt. I’d prefer you not bring it up, because seriously, no one is going to ask.”

A lie of omission. Well, that was irony.

He knew all about them. Had been one for the first decade of his life and had sworn never to be one again. And yet here he was, married to a woman making a dirty little secret of him from the start.

Freud would have a field day with this.

Okay, so it wasn’t as though he’d discovered Megan stowing the ring in her car’s ashtray while she hit the bars. They’d been married for less than twenty-four hours, and she wasn’t even certain she wanted to wait another twenty-four before filing for divorce. But still, her not wanting people to know rubbed him in all the wrong places. Partly because one of the first things to attract him about her was the way she owned her life. Her actions. She wasn’t making excuses or apologies or even taking the easy way out of an explanation. In the few hours he’d known her before he talked her into changing the plan for both their lives, she’d made him believe in who she was. How she lived. And this—this secret didn’t fit with that.

Which made him wonder about some of the other things he’d believed.

“I told you honesty was important to me. We talked about it today.” And same as last night, she’d agreed about the critical importance of trust in any marriage, but especially one not based on love.

“Connor...” Megan’s voice had taken a stern edge, as though she was the one who didn’t like what was being said. “This is my cousin, and while we aren’t spectacularly close, if I show up with your ring on, no one is going to pay attention to Gail’s wedding at all. It wouldn’t be fair to her. I’m sorry, but I hope you can respect my feelings.”

Connor’s head snapped up, the lead boulder in his gut evaporating under her words.

“You aren’t trying to hide something you’re embarrassed about?”

Her head tilted slightly, as if she wasn’t quite sure what she was hearing. “You mean because you’re such an unattractive, insufferable dog who’s probably going to fleece me for everything I’m worth...and I wasn’t smart enough to chew my arm off for a clean escape?”

The laughter was back, bolstered by more relief than he’d thought he could experience. “Something like that.”

Megan gave a tiny smile before turning thoughtful. Then, “I suppose, if I’m being totally honest, I am a little embarrassed about it. I mean, I made one of the biggest decisions of my life during a night when I’d drunk so much I don’t even remember doing it. But I’m not under any delusions about keeping our marriage under wraps. Everyone at this wedding is going to know about us—approximately two seconds after I talk to my mother. Which is why I haven’t called her yet.”

“What if we decide to divorce? You could sweep it under the rug.”

Megan laughed. “Maybe you could, but not me. Even knowing she can’t keep a confidence to save her life, I don’t keep secrets from my mother. I’ll tell her what’s happened as soon as I get home. And then the minute I hang up...” Megan’s eyes closed, and she drew in a slow breath. “Believe me. I’ll be hearing about this for the rest of my life. Regardless of the outcome.”

Connor offered a hand to Megan. “You okay with that?”

Megan wagged her head a little, eyes on the ceiling. “It’s my life. So yes. I’m good with it.”

Damn, he liked the things that came out of this woman’s mouth. He liked the way she thought. The way she cared. The way she lived. The way she stood by the choices she believed in. And despite his initial reaction to her not wearing his ring, he liked the way she could see past her own situation to consider the feelings of those around her.

That strength of character was what he wanted for his family.

“And with me?” he asked. “If I promise not to bring up the wedding, are you still good with me?”

Megan’s eyes were soft, steady as she met his. “I’m good with you too.”

* * *

The wedding went off without a hitch. Gail and Roy tied the knot in a chapel not so different, according to Connor, from the one where they’d been married the night before. The vows were made, the rings exchanged and then the marriage was sealed with a kiss. It was beautiful, despite Jodie and Tina making jokes at Megan’s expense throughout the ceremony, laughingly suggesting in her lack of experience she’d managed to botch her one-night stand by dragging it into the next day.

She’d been prepared for the barrage of teasing. Had warned Connor about it. But what she hadn’t expected was how protective her new husband was. And the way he managed to sabotage most every joke the quibbling duo attempted. Still, the girls were nothing if not persistent.

“So, really, Connor, what are you doing here?” Jodie asked, straining to be heard over the nightclub music booming around them. “I mean, sure, Megan reeled you in last night, but aren’t you ready to rip the hook out and take off yet?”

Whether she’d been going for flirtation or just a joke, the question was typically tactless, and Megan reminded herself white-chocolate martinis weren’t a solution. Not since the idea of them alone had her stomach ready to revolt.

Connor stretched his arm across the back of Megan’s chair, the warmth of it permeating the tuxedo jacket he’d wrapped her up in as soon as the ceremony ended. “Not at all. Megan’s incredible and I see this relationship going the distance.”

Tina leaned forward, putting her best assets on display. “Relationship?”

A slow heat began to build in Megan’s cheeks as all eyes shifted to where Connor’s thumb ran a lazy pattern against her shoulder. He’d been attentive without being overly demonstrative throughout the evening, obviously making an effort to respect her wishes and keep their marriage under wraps at least until the ink dried on Gail’s matching certificate. But this line of questioning could lead them toward the truth in a hurry if something didn’t change.

Tina’s shrewd eyes darted between them twice, before she stepped back with a cool laugh. “Oh, Megan, tell me you didn’t?”

Her heart sank. Somehow Tina had figured it out. Gail, who was waiting as expectantly as everyone else, would never forgive her.

“Tell me you didn’t go and make another friend?” The last word fell with such disgust it took Megan a second to realize she hadn’t been discovered. She didn’t need to feel ashamed for hijacking her cousin’s wedding. Relief washed over her in a wave, buoying her mood enough she couldn’t contain the smile stretching across her face.

“What are you talking about?” Connor asked, casually enough. Only, something about his voice sounded off, and as she turned to face him, she didn’t like the look of his half smile at all.

“Nothing. It’s nothing, Connor,” she said, hoping he’d recognize the plea in her eyes for him to leave it. The plea and the promise that she’d explain later when they weren’t within glowering distance of Gail’s wedding party. “I’d love another tonic. Any chance you’d come to the bar with me?”

After a beat, the smile turned more genuine and Connor stood, offering her his hand. “How about a dance first.”

Before she could mutter a protest, he had her flush against his chest and was deftly leading her with his hands, thighs, chest and hips into the midst of the clubgoers. Moving in a way that was all easy rhythm and physical confidence. Nothing friendly about it.

Within a few minutes, she’d returned to the state that teetered between laughter and lust and was totally unique to her experience with Connor, leaving Tina and Jodie and all their barbs a distant memory.

* * *

Connor signed off on the open-bar bill for their group and then grabbed the tall tonic and ice Megan had requested, eyeing their table like a man about to face the gallows. Megan was still in the ladies’ room, but something told him waiting for her outside the door would smack of stalker. So rather, he made his way to the table prepared to deflect the pointed questions about his bank accounts, Reed Industries’ worth and whether Megan had managed to snag any of his sperm.