“And you don’t want to get married.”
She stared straight ahead as they drove along Waller Street. “Right.”
She wasn’t sure anymore, though. Two weeks ago she’d been comfortably on her way to spinsterhood. Now she was caught in the middle of a ready – made family, and she liked it. At the end of the week, she’d woken up before the alarm rang, eager to see Timmy and Pat. And this morning she’d caught herself brooding because she hadn’t awakened in the cozy pineapple four- poster on Nicholson Street. Awakening in Pat’s bed was a dangerous daydream. Her emotions weren’t listening to reason.
It was an interesting phenomenon, she mused. She suspected that in other relationships she’d followed reason and tried to fabricate emotions. This time her emotions were running amuck, and at the head of the list was passion.
She studied Pat’s dark, boyish profile and wondered if she could indulge herself. Her body answered immediately Yes! Her mind worked more slowly. It said maybe.
Chapter 5
Megan made a fire while Pat took the baby sitter home. There weren’t many places to hide a television and a DVD player in the little cottage, she thought. Obviously, they weren’t downstairs. That left the bedroom.
She tucked a blanket around Timmy and turned toward the stairs. Stiffening her back, she took a few steps forward. So what if the television was in his bedroom? she asked herself. It was the logical place. Outdoor antennas weren’t allowed in the historic area, so it made sense to have the television on the second floor, where it would get better reception. Besides, Timmy was downstairs. The noise might wake him. Yup, it was only logical to put the television in the bedroom. And it was only logical to sit on the big fourposter to watch the movie, she thought as she climbed the stairs.
Well, there they were. A brand – new TV and a brand – new DVD player. She stood in front of them, chewing on her lower lip and wondering what movie he’d gotten. If it was rated X she was going to jump out the window. She was definitely physically ready to share a bed with Pat, but her mind was still stuck on maybe. And there was this other emotion crowding onto the scene. Panic.
When Pat walked into the room a few minutes later he speculated on Megan’s mood. She was nervous. She’d enjoyed the flirting at the restaurant, but only to a point. Then she’d tuned him out. She was making up her mind, he decided. She was attracted to him, but she was afraid. His instincts told him to go slowly. He’d waited thirty years for her. He could wait a little longer to make things exactly right.
He took a plastic bag from the dresser. “I got Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day. It’s my favorite. And I got Bridges of Madison County. I missed it when it came out.”
“Winnie the Pooh?”
“For Timmy.”
She noticed a tag taped to the top of the DVD player. “Happy Birthday from Mom and Dad,” she read. “It’s your birthday? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’d honestly forgotten about it until the DVD player and the TV arrived this morning. This has been a busy week for me. I’m not used to being a daddy.”
“Happy birthday.”
“Thanks.” He popped Winnie the Pooh into the recorder slot and zapped it with the remote.
“I thought Winnie was for Timmy.”
Pat grinned. “We should check it out. Make sure everythings okay. I wouldn’t want the little nipper to be disappointed.”
Megan stepped out of her shoes and climbed onto the soft feather quilt. She plumped a pillow at the headboard and curled her legs under her. “This is cozy. It’s a perfect night for Winnie the Pooh.”
Pat looked at the woman sitting on his bed and felt his mouth go dry. She was exquisite, and somehow, watching her take off her shoes had been as erotic as if she’d been taking off her panties. Lord, he must have been crazy.
How would he ever get through the evening without attacking her?
Megan felt the tension creeping through her body. She leaned back against the pillow and willed herself to relax. She wanted to act like an adult and let this desire grow naturally. There was a right time for everything… a time to watch a movie, a time for conversation, a time to be kissed. She took a deep breath, carefully folded her hands in her lap, and watched the wind blow Owl’s house down. Then she watched the windy day turn into a rainy night. She thought it must be nice to spend a rainy night in Patrick’s bedroom. Good thing it wasn’t raining. She might be tempted to set up housekeeping.
“Is this your furniture?” she asked to get her mind off the idea of living with Pat.
“No. My Aunt Catherine lives here. She’s a historical interpreter, but she’s taken a six month leave to participate in an archeological dig somewhere. I’ll have to find another house in March.”
He changed movies and returned to the bed, putting his arm around Megan and snuggling her next to him. “This is a terrific way to spend a birthday,” he murmured, kissing her hair. “Have you seen this movie?”
She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the stab of pleasure his kiss had brought. “Six times, and I always cry. You’d better have lots of tissues handy.”
Later, Megan dabbed at her red – rimmed eyes and blew her nose. “It’s so beautiful,” she said, gasping.
Pat held her close and stroked a stray strand of hair from her tear- streaked face. “Are you okay? I’ve never seen anyone cry like that over a movie. I never would have gotten it if I’d known what it did to you.”
“No, I love it. It’s my favorite movie.”
“Honey, you started crying when they played the opening theme, and you absolutely sobbed through the whole last half hour!”
Megan snuffled against his chest. He was nice to cry on, she thought. Warm and strong and oozing security. This was much better than crying alone.
“I’m better now,” she said, tipping her head up toward him. She was all cried out, and she wanted to be kissed. She liked Patrick Hunter. Really liked him. He was fun, and he was comfortable. And he was sexy. Very sexy. She hadn’t changed her mind about marriage, but she thought a birthday kiss would be nice. Everyone needed to get kissed once in a while, and the “maybe” in her mind had changed to “probably.”
“Happy birthday,” she said in a voice husky from crying. She wound her arms around his neck and ran her finger along the outer rim of his ear.
Pat felt himself stir at her touch. He’d never wanted anything in his entire life the way he wanted Megan Murphy. He’d wanted her since the first moment he saw her, and that want had grown into a physical and emotional ache that nagged at him day and night. Now that he had her on his bed, waiting to be kissed, he was apprehensive. He didn’t want her seduced into his arms by Clint Eastwood, and he didn’t want her softened up by Winnie the Pooh or the fact that it was his birthday. He wanted her to want him, Patrick Hunter. He let his hands caress the pink angora sweater and felt the warm woman beneath.
“Meg, if we stay here, like this, I’m going to kiss you, and I’m not going to want to stop kissing you. Maybe I should take you home now.”
Had he just offered to take her home? he wondered. He must be nuts. He finally had Megan right where he wanted her, and he’d offered to take her home.
“I don’t want to go home,” she said. “I want to be kissed.”
Hell, he thought, that’s the ball game. He’d reached the end of his altruism. Besides, she’d be insulted if he refused to kiss her, and it would be rude to insult her. He’d warned her about kissing’s leading to other things, right? He’d told her in the beginning of the week that he’d do anything to get her. That put him in the clear, didn’t it?