Megan watched emotions parade across Pat’s face. Just when she wanted to get kissed he was going virtuous on her, she thought, waging some sort of war between his morals and his mattress. Wasn’t that her luck? “Hunter?”
“Yes?”
“Stop thinking and kiss me.”
A small frown appeared between his eyes as he lowered his head to hers. He kissed her gently, tasting, testing soft lips. “Megan, I don’t-”
She stopped his words with a kiss of her own, leaning into him, pressing against his chest, sliding her stockinged legs along his. She closed her eyes and reveled in the warmth of his body. Desire raged through her, just as she’d known it would. This was a special night, she told herself. A stolen moment of love. She wasn’t meant to be married, but she could have this one night.
Pat pulled her even closer. Megan gasped at the sudden intensity of his passion and arched up against him in a haze of greedy pleasure. Her fingers flew along the buttons of his shirt, baring his muscled chest to her touch. She wanted more. She wanted to see all of him. He pulled her sweater over her head and stripped off her bra.
“Pat…”
He looked at her with eyes black from desire. “Megan…”
“The baby’s crying.”
“What?”
“The baby’s crying!”
“Oh, hell. I don’t believe this. Let him cry.” He kissed her hard on the mouth. Halfway through the kiss he opened his eyes and found her staring at him.
“I’m sorry,” she said, practically screaming in exasperation. “I can’t concentrate.”
Pat counted to ten, took a deep breath, and heaved himself off the bed. “Feel free to continue without me. I have a feeling this is going to take some time.”
Megan rolled her eyes. So this was motherhood, she thought. Green beans on your shirt and romantic interruptions. She pulled on her sweater, tidied her clothes and ran Pat’s hairbrush through her tangled hair.
“What’s the problem?” she asked, tiptoeing down the stairs.
Pat was cradling Timmy in his arms. “I think he’s getting a tooth.”
“Couldn’t he get it during the day? Couldn’t he get it tomorrow?”
Pat grinned. “Disappointed, huh? You’re pretty hot stuff.”
She felt her face flush.
“And you’re fun to tease,” he added, smiling. “How about some cold apple juice for Timmy and some hot chocolate for Pat?”
She clicked her heels together and gave him a snappy salute. “Aye, aye, sir.”
They sat at the kitchen table, drinking their hot chocolate while Pat fed the baby.
“It’s gone, isn’t it?” he said to her.
She nodded. Yes, the moment was gone. Probably it was all for the best, she told herself. She needed time to think. She needed to be sure she could handle a physical relationship with Pat. She didn’t believe in sex without commitment, but commitment didn’t have to mean marriage. Could there be such a thing as temporary commitment? Limited commitment? Certainly there was more involved here than simple sex. If she made love with Pat would she be strong enough to pick up the pieces when the relationship ended? It was this last thought that worried her the most.
He touched her hand. “Are you still sorry Timmy stopped us?”
She smiled. “I don’t know.”
An honest answer, he thought. It wouldn’t have been his.
She finished her cocoa and searched for her coat. “I think it’s time I went home.”
“Would you consider spending the night here?”
She let the idea roll through her mind, then sighed heavily. “No. I’d consider the loan of your car, though. I’ll drop it off on my way to work tomorrow morning.”
The next day Megan stood in the doorway of the cooper’s shop at the west end of Duke of Gloucester Street, just across from BrutonParishChurch. The air was sweet with the smell of shaved wood, a nippy breeze played in the bare tree limbs, and the tower bells pealed noontime in Bruton Parish. She watched Pat and Timmy cross the street and follow a tour group to her station. After checking everyone’s ticket, she turned to Pat and grimaced at the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. “You look awful.”
“I didn’t sleep all night. From now on I’m going to be more sympathetic to the parents of teething babies.”
Timmy was slouched in the stroller, sound asleep.
“You sure you’re not hallucinating?” she asked. “This kid’s out like a light.”
“This is the only time he sleeps. He wakes up the minute I get him in the house. I’ve been pushing him around for hours. Seems like days.”
“I wish I could help you, but I don’t get off work until five.”
“I’ll be dead by five.”
She smiled. “Try to survive. We’re scheduled to make red cabbage and cranberry sauce tonight.”
“Don’t those things come in jars?”
Her eyes widened. “What about our old fashioned Thanksgiving?”
“Maybe we should modernize it. I could cook some burgers on the barbecue and buy a bunch of pies at the supermarket. If I wait until Thursday, they’ll be on sale.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear any of this.”
“Megan Murphy, you’re a hard woman.” His gaze dropped to her chest. “Fortunately, even though you’re a hard woman, you still have a few soft spots.”
“I thought you were supposed to be tired.”
“I’m beginning to wake up.” His voice grew husky. “We have unfinished business.”
“I think so too.”
Pat’s mouth dropped open.
“After all, I’m twenty – seven years old, and I have normal biological urges and emotional needs. Just because I’m destined never to get married doesn’t mean I can’t… um, get debauched.”
“I wish I weren’t so tired. Now I’m starting to imagine things. Did you just say you wanted to get debauched?”
“Yes. The sooner the better. How about right after the red cabbage? It has to cook for three hours, anyway. It would give us something to do.”
At five o’clock Timmy was sitting in his high chair, gnawing on his drool – soaked blanket while Pat called out for a pizza.
“Listen kid,” Pat said, returning to the table, “you’ve got to help me out here. I’ve got a long night ahead of me. I’ve got to debauch Megan for three hours. I’m gonna need some quiet.” He was going to need more than quiet, he thought. He was going to need a transfusion. He was out on his feet.
Timmy blinked and pounded his tray table. His face turned red and crinkled, and he began to whimper. “Mum, mum, mum,” he cried.
“Poor kid.” Pat lifted Timmy out of the chair.
“Teething and no mum, mum, mum to comfort you.”
Even if Mum returned, Pat wasn’t so sure he wanted to entrust Timmy to her care. Not even a phone call all this time she’d been gone. Not even a letter. Not his idea of a loving mother.
Megan and the pizza delivery boy arrived at Pat’s house simultaneously.
“Deliveries for Patrick Hunter,” she announced. “One pizza and a strumpet to go.”
“Hear that, Tim. They sent us a strumpet with our pizza. What do you suppose we should do with it?” Pat paid for the pizza and handed Timmy over to Megan. “Timmy says we should have the strumpet for dessert. What do you think?”
“I think I’ll take a shower.”
“I’ll put the pizza away. We can eat it tomorrow.”
“Fine with me,” Megan commented as she sashayed from the room.
When Megan got out of the shower she found the bedroom candles lit and the comforter turned down. The stairs creaked, and Pat walked into the room, carrying two crystal brandy snifters.
“Timmy’s asleep,” he said. “The tooth has broken through the gum. I think he’ll be okay now.”