Sheltered by the Millionaire(17)

       
           



       

A string quartet played classical carols in the foyer, elegant strains  swelling up into the cathedral ceiling. She was so preoccupied with  taking it all in she almost ran smack dab into an older couple. She  started to apologize, then realized-damn it-they weren't the only Royal  residents who'd ventured outside the city limits.

She forced herself to relax and smile at Tyrone and Vera Taylor. "Good evening. Imagine running into you two here."

She'd hoped to keep her relationship with Whit out of the public eye a  while longer, but she should have known that would be next to  impossible, in most any local restaurant given their wide circle of  friends.

"Whit?" Tyrone said. "What are you-? Oh, well, hello, Ms. Maguire."

"Good evening, sir," Whit answered the silver-haired man. Tyrone had a  reputation for riding roughshod over people, but Whit met him face on  without a wince.

Megan considered asking them about their newborn grandbaby in the NICU,  about their daughter Skye still in a coma, but rumor had it Vera wasn't  enthused about being a grandmother. The possibility of that poor little  baby being unwanted hurt Megan's already vulnerable heart. So she  simply said, "You and your family are in my thoughts."

"Thank you," Vera answered tightly before turning to her husband. "Tyrone?"

The blustery man clapped Whit on the shoulder. "We'll let you get to  your meal. I'll see you at the town hall cleanup...and of course at  Craig Richardson's memorial service."

"Yes, sir." Whit nodded curtly.

Megan wondered if the others noticed the tension in Whit's shoulders at  the mention of his dead friend. She tucked her hand into the crook of  his arm again and squeezed a light reassurance.

The ma?tre d' arrived and saved them from further awkward conversation  by leading the Taylors to their table while the hostess guided Whit and  Megan to theirs-thankfully on the other side of the room.

Megan settled into her seat, the silver, crystal and candlelight a long  way from chicken nuggets and fast food on the run. Music from the  quartet filled the silence between them until their waiter took their  order. They both settled on the special: rack of lamb, white grits and  Texas kale.

As she stabbed at her salad, she realized just how quiet Whit had gone  and knew with certainty that the mention of his friend Craig had hit him  hard.

"Are you okay?" She rested a hand over Whit's. "We don't have to do this tonight."

"I want to be here with you." He flipped his hand over to squeeze hers. "I'm good."

"You don't have to be Mr. Charming all the time." In fact, she  sometimes wanted a sign to know what was real about him, what she could  trust, because lately he seemed too good to be true. "We can call it a  night and reschedule."

His thumb caressed along the sensitive inside of her wrist. "No. I need a distraction and you're a damn fine one."

"Thank you, I think." She tipped her head to the side. "I'm just so sorry for your loss."

"Me too. It was just so...." The tendons in his neck stood out, and  even in the dim candlelight, she could see his pulse throbbing along his  temple. "Losing him in that tornado was just so unexpected."

She agreed on many levels. The whole town of Royal, Texas, had been  tipped upside down by that storm. "Do you think we're both just reacting  to all that life-and-death adrenaline?"

His gaze snapped up to meet hers. "What I feel for you has nothing to do with a natural disaster."

"But I kissed you that day and that changed things between us."

"Lady," a smile finally tugged at his handsome face, "I was attracted to you long before that kiss."

She'd suspected, but hearing that gave her a rush far headier than it  should have. "I thought I was just a great big pain in the butt since I  moved to town."

He glanced down again. "Craig used to tell me I should just sweep you off your feet."

"You told him how you felt?"

Whit shook his head. "I didn't have to. Craig guessed. He said it was  obvious every time I looked at you." And his eyes held hers again now,  full of heat and intensity. "But you shut me down cold right from the  start. And I can't blame you. We had our disagreements. I thwarted your  business plans. And you were quite vocal in your disapproval of my  company buying wetlands. I thought I was saving us both a lot of grief  by steering clear. Then you kissed me, and all bets were off. I would  have acted sooner but when we got the news about Craig...."                       
       
           



       

The confirmation that he'd been wanting a relationship with her for so  long rattled her more than a little. "You've been grieving."

"I have...still am." He glanced down for a couple of heartbeats before  swallowing hard and looking back up at her. "But that doesn't stop life  from happening. And it doesn't stop me from thinking about what happened  between us that day. We can't ignore it."

Her face flamed. "I'm embarrassed that I kissed you."

"But you liked it." He leaned back in his chair, watching her over the candlelight. "So did I."

She couldn't deny it to him or to herself any longer. She wanted Whit,  and she wanted him for more than just one night. "Obviously I liked it."

He leaned closer, took her hand across the table, the heat in his eyes  smokier than the candle between them. "Then let's do it again."





Seven

After Whit's suggestive comment, dinner had passed in a blur of  anticipation as she waited for this moment. To be in Whit's sports car  heading to his house. To be alone. Together.

A part of her knew she'd done a grave disservice to the fine cuisine,  but she could only think of the promise in Whit's eyes. Now they were  finally at his house for after-dinner drinks and whatever else came  next.

The garage door slid closed behind them, sealing them inside one of the  four bays, where they were surrounded by other signs of his luxurious  lifestyle. She'd seen the truck, but there was also a boat. A  motorcycle. She gulped back a nervous shiver and concentrated on the man  in the seat next to her instead. He was about more than expensive toys  and an extravagant lifestyle. Whit was real. This was real. She was  going to act on her feelings for this man. The attraction that had been  simmering between them for days-weeks, years-would finally be fulfilled.  She'd ached for him, dreamed of him.

Shifting in her seat, she smoothed her fingers over the red silk hem  where it had ridden up one knee just a little. She'd dressed with care,  wanting to be noticed. Yet the silk fabric had teased her too, clinging  and skimming along her skin every time she moved.

Whit turned to her, the leather seat creaking. Her temperature spiked  and heart pounded. She met his gaze and knew what was coming. She'd been  waiting all evening....

He sketched his mouth over hers lightly. Once. Twice. Nipping her  bottom lip and launching a fresh shower of sparks through her veins.

Then he eased back and looked into her eyes. "Going inside doesn't commit to anything more than you want."

She angled her head to the side and lifted an eyebrow. "Really? Are you going to kiss and bolt again?"

"Not a chance." He tucked his hand behind her head, his fingers  massaging a sensual promise into her scalp. "I just want you to know I  care about you."

The simple words were filled with layers of meaning she wasn't ready to  delve into just now. Still, she held them close, savoring the heady  warmth of being cared about by this handsome, magnetic man.

"I want to see the inside of your house." She stroked his face with one  hand and reached for her door handle with the other. "So let's go."

"Yes, ma'am." He scooped up his Stetson. "I'm happy to oblige."

As she stepped out of the low-slung sports car, Whit was already  holding the door open for her like the perfect gentleman he'd been all  evening. His palm low on her back, he guided her past his Porsche and  truck toward the door. The warmth of his hand seared through her silky  dress. The silence wrapped around her as they climbed the three stairs  into his house.

And holy cow, what a house.

Mansion would be a more appropriate word. She slipped off her heels and  padded barefoot down the corridor leading to the main foyer. She  wriggled her toes against cool marble, then into the plush give of a  Persian rug. She tipped her head back to stare up the length of the  stairway, up to the cathedral ceiling with a crystal chandelier. The  scent of lemony furniture polish and fine leather teased her nose. Whit  stood silently at her side.

God, the place was quiet compared to the constant mayhem of her home,  with Evie's laughter, dogs barking, and kids' television shows playing.  Curious to learn more about this man full of contradictions, Megan  glanced at the dining room to her left, with its heavy mahogany table  set, then turned to the living room on her right. She stepped through  the archway, taking in the tan leather sofas and wingbacks, tasteful  while still being oversized for a man. She trailed her fingers along the  carved mantel above the fireplace.