Sheltered by the Millionaire(26)

Megan rubbed her foot along his calf. "Why do you have a greenhouse  full of fruits and vegetables if you order your food catered?"

He propped up on one elbow and gestured at the plants on either side.  "There's a theme here, if you look closer," he said, surprised at her  question but glad to have a chance to extend the evening. "Fresh fruits  and vegetables for a salad or salsa. I may not be able to cook, but I  can chop. Plus, free tomatoes are a great way to make friends with your  neighbors."

"Just being neighborly?" she pressed. "I think there's more to your answer than that."

"Believe it or not, I like roots." If he wanted more from her, he would  need to give more of himself. "I moved around so much as a kid, this  place reminds me I'm here to stay."

One of those happy-sad smiles played on her lips, which were still plump from kissing. "You break my heart sometimes."

"How so?" He tensed. He didn't want her pity. Part of him wanted to  pull back, but that would mean letting her go. And with her hands  sketching lazy circles all over him, staying put seemed a better option.

"With those images of you as a kid longing for a home." One of her hands slid up to cradle his face.

"You're a nurturer." He kissed her palm.

"You're a builder and tender too, you know." She gestured to the greenhouse. "You just have to learn to see that in yourself."

Okay, enough of this kind of talk. It was one thing to share parts of  their past. It was another altogether to submit to a cranial root canal.  "This conversation is getting entirely too serious."                       
       
           



       

"Then why did you bring me out here and show me this part of your life?"

Why had he? Every time he got close to that answer, he mentally  flinched away as if he were getting too close to a flame. He settled on  the easy answer. "Because I had been fantasizing about making love to  you out here, about tasting the fruit on your skin."

She paused and he could see in her eyes she wasn't buying into his  dismissal of her assessment. Then she nodded as if conceding to give him  space on the issue and arched up to nibble his bottom lip. "You taste  mighty delicious yourself."

"I've developed a new appreciation for fondue."

She flicked her tongue along his chin before pressing her mouth to his  collar bone, then settling back into his arms. "I appreciate the dessert  and the thought that went into arranging such an amazing evening, and  all you've done for Evie and for the shelter as well."

"I would like to pamper you every day if you would let me." He massaged  along one of her narrow shoulders, then down her back, skimming along  her curves and around her hip where he knew her tattoo trailed across  her skin. He could get so used to this. "The way I see it, you don't get  much time to relax between work and being a mom."

"I love my daughter and my job. That's always been enough." Yet as she  said that, her eyes fluttered closed and she melted against him.

"That doesn't mean you can't have recreation."

"Is that what you are?" She tipped her face to look at him. "My recreation?"

"I'm just trying to be a help. We all need a break every now and again,  right?" He couldn't hold back the burning question any longer. "Where  does Evie's father live?"

Her body went rigid under his touch and she rolled away, sitting up and  gathering her clothes. "Not here. He's not a part of her life and  chances are he never will be."

"But he knows about her."

"Of course," she answered indignantly, tugging on her panties, then her  bra. "I would never keep that a secret. The minute he found out, he cut  ties and ran."

The bastard. Whit wanted to find the guy and pummel him for the pain he'd caused Megan and her amazing daughter.

"He doesn't pay child support, does he?" Whit tugged on his suit pants.

She shrugged and pulled on her shirt. "He snowed me. Completely. Last I heard he was in the Keys heading for the Bahamas."

"Hey." Whit cradled her face in his hands. "It's not your fault he's a  loser. He missed out on an amazing family." Whit's own father may not  have been much of a provider but at least he'd been there.

"My fault or not," she gripped his wrists and stared straight into his  eyes, "Evie will grow up knowing her father didn't want her and there's  nothing I can do to change that."

She pulled away to slip on her khakis, her rigid back telling him she  was holding on by a thread while rebuilding defenses he'd apparently  blasted with one simple question.

Whit could see he didn't just need to be careful for Evie's sake. Megan  was every bit as wounded by the past as her daughter. She just didn't  wear the costumes.

And now he prayed like hell his idea to help with Evie wouldn't backfire.

* * *

"What's the matter with you?"

Beth's question cut through Megan's fog as she picked at her lunch  salad the next day. Evie had taken her lunch box and joined Miss Abigail  at the front desk.

Megan sagged back in her office chair, the squeak in the old seat  mixing with the muffled sound of a couple of dogs in the play yard. The  kennel runs were quieter today than usual thanks to some new calming CDs  brought in by one of the volunteers. If only that music could help calm  her spinning thoughts.

Even the salad reminded her of Whit's greenhouse and how hard he was  trying on her behalf. Yet she couldn't shake the jittery feeling that  things would fall apart, and the closer she let herself get to him, the  worse the breakup would hurt.

Tossing aside her fork, Megan reached for her water instead, staring at  the photo on her desk of beach day in Galveston when Evie was two.  She'd scrimped and saved for that trip, convinced she needed to start  making special memories with her toddler. "I'm just preoccupied."                       
       
           



       

"Because of Whit?" Beth unpacked her navy blue lunch sack that could have passed for a purse. "How did it go last night?"

"Did you know he has this massive greenhouse where he grows fresh fruits and veggies?"

Beth's eyebrows shot up. "No, I didn't know. And you think he would  have told me since I have an organic farm. We could have shared  clippings-" She stopped. "Wait. This is about you."

Megan tapped the catnip plant. "He brought this for the kitties. And  he's rolling out all the stops romancing me and I have to admit, he  seems so sincere."

"Seems?" Beth absently thumbed her engagement ring, spinning it around on her finger.

Admitting her insecurities, even to her close friend, was tough for  Megan. But God, if she didn't work through this and she blew it with  Whit without even trying... "I don't trust my instincts when it comes to  men. And he's known for being ruthless."

"In the work world," Beth pointed out. "That's different."

"Is it?"

"He adores Evie. He's not faking that. Evie would sense that a mile  off." The natural blonde beauty smiled. "Remember that banker guy who  pretended to be in the market for a dog so he could hit on you about six  months ago? Evie made a point of getting peanut butter and jelly on his  ties so you would see him freak out over kid germs."

Megan laughed at the memory. "She's a great little bodyguard." But even  that thought was sobering in light of her daughter's fears since the  storm. "Can I afford to let Evie grow any more attached to Whit when I'm  not sure where the relationship is headed?"

"Unless you intend to spend your life alone, at some point you have to trust again," Beth said with undeniable reason.

"I could wait until Evie's eighteen." Except after last night's sex, fourteen years felt like an eternity.

Her friend stayed diplomatically silent and bit into an apple.

The noise level in the lobby grew. New voices and a squeal from Evie  drew Megan's attention away from her pity party, thank heaven, because  talking was just making her feel worse today.

She rolled back her chair and stood. "Beth, I should see what's going on out there."

She stepped into the lobby, her eyes drawn immediately to Whit. What  was he doing here in the middle of the workday? Then she noticed Evie  petting a golden retriever. Megan's instincts went on alert at the  thought of her daughter petting a possible stray with an unknown  vaccination history. Except then she saw the dog was wearing a "service  dog" vest. What did all of this have to do with Whit's arrival?

He turned to face her-and he wasn't alone. A sleekly pretty woman with dark hair stood at his side. Jealousy nipped. Hard.