“Pretty much.” He sat on the edge of the bed, ran a fingertip down her spine. “So, how about it? Sleep with me tonight?”
“I don't even have a toothbrush.”
“I can dig up an extra.” He broke off a piece of chicken, fed it to her. “Oh.” She swallowed, blew out a breath. “Spicy.”
“Yeah.” He leaned down to sample her lips, then lifted a glass of wine to them. “Better?”
“It's wonderful.”
He tipped the glass so that a few drops of wine spilled on her shoulder. “Oops. Better clean that up.” He did so with a lingering lick of his tongue. “What do I have to do to convince you to stay?”
She forgot the food and rolled into his arms. “You just did.”
In the morning, the mists had cleared. Nathaniel watched Megan pin up her hair in a beam of sunlight. It seemed only right that he move behind her and press his lips to the base of her neck.
He thought it was a sweetly ordinary, sweetly intimate gesture that could become a habit.
“I love the way you polish yourself up, sugar.”
“Polish myself up?” Her curious eyes met his in the glass. She had on the same tailored suit she'd worn the day before—not slightly wrinkled. Her makeup was sketchy at best, courtesy of the small emergency cosmetic kit she carried in her purse, and her hair was giving her trouble, as she'd lost half of her pins.
“Like you are now. Like some pretty little cupcake behind the bakery window.”
“Cupcake.” She nearly choked. “I'm certainly not a cupcake.”
“I've got a real sweet tooth.” To prove it, he nibbled his way to her ear.
“I've noticed.” She turned, but put her hands against his chest to hold him off. “I have to go.”
“Yeah, me too. I don't suppose I could talk you into coming with me.”
“To sight whales?” She cocked her head. “No more than I could talk you into sitting with me in my office all day, running figures.”
He winced. “Guess not. How about tonight?”
She yearned, wished, longed. “I have to think of Kevin. I can't spend my nights here with you while he spends them somewhere else.”
“I had that figured. I was thinking if you were to leave your terrace doors open...”
“You could come sneaking in?” she asked archly. “More or less.”
“Good thinking.” She laughed and drew away. “Now, are you going to drive me back to my car?”
“Looks that way.” He took her hand, holding it as they walked downstairs. “Megan...” He hated to bring it up when the sun was shining and his mood was light. “If you hear from Dumont, if he tries to see you or Kevin, if he calls, sends a damn smoke signal, does anything, I want you to tell me.”
She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I doubt I will, after the dunking you gave him. But don't worry, Nathaniel, I can handle Baxter.”
“Off with his head,” Bird suggested, but Nathaniel didn't smile.
“It's not a matter of what you can handle.” He pushed the door open, stepped outside. “Maybe you don't figure that last night gives me the right to look out for you and your boy, but I do. I will. So we'll put it this way.” He opened the car door for her. “Either you promise me that you'll tell me, or I go after him now.”
She started to protest, but the image, absolutely vivid, of the look on Nathaniel's face when he'd rammed Baxter against the wall stopped her. “You would.”
“Bank on it.”
She tried to separate annoyance from the simple pleasure of being protected. And couldn't. “I want to say I appreciate the concern, but I'm not sure I do. I've been taking care of myself, and of Kevin, for a long time.”
“Things change.”
“Yes,” she said carefully, wondering what was behind those calm, unblinking gray eyes. “I'm more comfortable when they change slowly.”
“I'm doing my best to keep at your pace, Meg.” Whatever frustrations he had, he told himself, he could handle. “Just a simple yes or no on this'll do.”
It wasn't just herself, Megan thought. There was Kevin. And Nathaniel was offering them both a strong, protecting arm. Pride meant nothing when compared to the welfare of her son.
Not at all sure why she was amused, she turned to him once he'd settled into the driver's seat. “You have an uncanny knack for getting your own way. And when you do, you just accept it as inevitable.”
“It usually is.” He backed out of the drive and headed for Shipshape.
There was a small greeting party waiting for them. Holt and, to Megan's surprise, her brother, Sloan.
“I dropped the kids off at The Towers,” Holt told her, before she could ask. “They've got your dog, Nate.”
“Thanks.” She'd barely stepped from the car when Sloan grabbed her by the shoulders, stared hard into her eyes.
“Are you all right? Why the hell didn't you call me? Did he put his hands on you?”
“I'm fine. Sloan, I'm fine.” Instinctively she cupped his face, kissed him. “I didn't call because I already had two white knights charging into battle. And he may have put his hands on me, but I put my fists on him. I think I split his lip.”
Sloan said something particularly foul about Du-mont and hugged Megan close. “I should have killed him when you first told me about him.”
“Stop it.” She pressed her cheek to his. “It's over. I want it put aside. Kevin's not to hear about it. Now come on, I'll drive you back to the house.”
“I've got some things to do.” He gave Nathaniel a steely stare over Megan's shoulder. “You go on up, Meg. I'll be along later.”
“All right, then.” She kissed him again. “Holt, thanks again for looking after Kevin.”
“No problem.” Holt tucked his tongue in his cheek when Nathaniel scooped Megan up for a long, lingering kiss. A glance at Sloan's narrowed eyes had him biting that tongue to keep from grinning.
“See you, sugar.”
Megan flushed, cleared her throat. “Yes.,.well. Bye.”
Nathaniel tucked his thumbs in his pocket, waited until she'd driven off before he turned to Sloan. “Guess you want to talk to me.”
“Damn right I want to talk to you.”
“You'll have to come up to the bridge. We've got a tour going out.”
“Want a referee?” Holt offered, and earned two deadly glances. “Too bad. I hate to miss it.”
Smoldering, Sloan followed Nathaniel up the gangplank, waited restlessly while he gave orders. Once they were on the bridge, Nathaniel glanced over the charts and dismissed the mate.
“If this is going to take longer than fifteen minutes, you're in for a ride.”
“I've got plenty of time.” Sloan stepped closer, braced his legs like a gunslinger at high noon. “What the hell were you doing with my sister?”
“I think you have that figured out,” Nathaniel said coolly.
Sloan bared his teeth. “If you think I'm going to stand back while you move in on her, you're dead wrong. I wasn't around when she got tangled up with Dumont, but I'm here now.”
“I'm not Dumont.” Nathaniel's own temper threatened to snap, a dry twig of control. “You want to take out what he did to her on me, that's fine. I've been looking to kick someone's ass ever since I caught that bastard tossing her around. So you want to take me on?” he said invitingly. “Do it.”
Though the invitation tempted some elemental male urge, Sloan pulled back. “What do you mean, he was tossing her around?”
“Just what I said. He had her up against the wall.” The rage swept back, almost drowning him. “I thought about killing him, but I didn't think she could handle it.”
Sloan breathed deep to steady himself. “So you threw him off the pier.”
“Well, I punched him a few times first, then I figured there was a chance he couldn't swim.”
Calmer, and grateful, Sloan nodded. “Holt had a few words with him when he dragged his sorry butt out. They've tangled before.” He'd missed his chance that time, as well, he thought, thoroughly disgusted. “I don't think Dumont'll come back, chance running into any of us again.” Sloan knew he should be glad of it, but he regretted, bitterly, not getting his own licks in.