Under the Millionaire's Mistletoe(28)

It was Meg who broke the kiss, leaning back, her arms looped around his  waist so that her hips pressed a little more firmly against his. "I  don't think we should."

He'd think a little more clearly if it wasn't for those hips. He knew  all the reasons why she was right. This was ending. And it needed to end  cleanly. As cleanly as was possible given what had already passed  between them. He didn't want to hurt her. "You're right. But just one  more." He waited for her smile, waited till the indecision in her eyes  was swept away by agreement and the flare of hunger as she abandoned  reason and caution and lifted her face to his. Meg. His wife. So quick  to respond to him. Something primal stirred. More than lust. He chose  not to examine it, let desire and pure pleasure take the upper hand.                       
       
           



       

They were both breathing heavily, their breaths mingling in the air, by  the time she again pulled away. And this time she broke all contact,  stepping away from his touch, turning to adjust the snowman's carrot  nose. "We should go in."

And this time he knew better than to disagree. Because despite what he'd  thought, kissing her out here wasn't safe. Far from it. Kissing the way  they had been spoke too openly of more, of picking up where they'd left  off last night. Of his falling into her heat. Of staying there.

"Besides, I'm cold." Her cheeks were flushed.

Luke lifted her hand, pulled a glove off and enclosed her fingers in  his. He tucked her hand against his side as he led her back to the  house.

Inside again, he hung up their coats. He didn't look at her cases by the  front door as he led her toward the living room, knew a moment's  hesitation as they passed the Christmas tree, he wouldn't kiss her  inside, knew another moment as they passed the stairs, the stairs he  wouldn't lead her up to his bedroom. Finally in the relative sanctuary  of the living room, he lit the fire. "Stand here. Warm yourself."

Unquestioning and not meeting his gaze, she held her hands out to the flames.

Luke left the room, returned in five minutes carrying two cups of cocoa.  He didn't know why looking after her gave him such pleasure and  satisfaction, but it did. She stood exactly where he'd left her, staring  into the flames.

"You're warm enough?" He handed her a cup of cocoa and she nodded as she  took it, seemingly intrigued by the marshmallows floating on the top.

"What now?" she asked.

Almost all of the ideas that sprang to mind were unwise. "I have a suggestion."

Her gaze lifted and narrowed on him.

"Not that." He laughed. Because if he didn't laugh he'd take the  assumption as an invitation. "Not that the idea doesn't have merit." A  slow blush crept up her face. "I'm suggesting a movie." She quickly  covered the flash of disappointment in her gaze. But the flash had  pleased the unwise part of him. Like her, he covered the reaction. He  slid a movie into the player, picked up the remote. "The snow's stopped.  Soon enough the roads will be cleared and you'll leave." He led her to  the couch and sat close beside her, pulling the broad coffee table  closer so that he could rest his feet on it. She watched him, waiting  for him to continue. He settled into the soft black leather of the  couch, pulled her back with him and tried to explain his reasoning. "I  never intended to marry. Never thought I would. I don't need other  people the way some do.

I'm content on my own." He slipped an arm around her shoulders. "So this  might be it. My only chance to spend time with my wife. To experience  married life. We can be like an old couple who have comfortable routines  they've settled into over a lifetime of being together. Cocoa and a  movie on a snowy afternoon. We'll argue over chick flick or action  movie." He picked up the remote, pointed it at the TV and the screen  flickered to life. "Action movie will win because we watched your chick  flick last week."

As the opening credits rolled and on-screen a car wound its way up a  rocky mountainside at night, she nestled a little closer and stretched  her legs out alongside his, resting her small feet, in their red socks,  beside his.

They were an hour into the movie which had managed to capture only a  portion of his awareness away from her, when Caesar started barking.  Moments later the doorbell chimed. Luke glanced at his watch, his mood  darkening. He stood. "You keep watching. I just have to deal with this."

She reached for the remote, located the Pause button. "I'll wait."

"I'm not sure how long this will take. Depends on how much of a fuss he makes."

"He? Jason?"

Luke nodded, resenting this intrusion, the sullying of his afternoon  with her. But he needed to deal with it. He'd been thinking about their  earlier conversation, about finding a way to deal with Jason that did  justice to his mother.

"I'll wait," she said, looking away from him as she settled back into  the cushioning leather, looking small and stoic, expecting better of him  than he was prepared to give. On-screen, the hero was frozen with a gun  pressed to the villain's temple, his eyes bleak.                       
       
           



       





Seven




Seconds after Luke strode from the room, the sound of voices, muted but  clipped, reached Meg, then faded as they headed to Luke's office along  the hallway. She made a bowl of popcorn, set it on the coffee table and  then crossed to the wide windows. Outside, Frosty stood a lonely  sentinel on the lawn, Meg's scarf loose about his neck, his eyes dark  and desolate. For a time she heard nothing. Then shouting. She crossed  to the open living room door, her fingers gripping the door frame,  hesitant.

Only one man was shouting. Jason. She couldn't hear Luke at all.

She was still standing there, distressed by the anger she heard and  wondering whether there was anything she could do to help, when the  voice quieted. A minute later, Jason stormed out of Luke's office,  slamming the door behind him. He stalked along the hallway toward her.

"Will you be okay?"

Jason looked up, a dark dislike glittered in his eyes. "Don't pretend you care."

"I'm not pretending."

His step slowed. "Then call your husband off."

"It's not my place."

Jason shook his head, disbelieving. "Indonesia. What the hell am I supposed to do there?"

"Indonesia?" That was what Luke had decided?

"The precious Maitland Foundation. I'm supposed to spend the next two years in hell."

"Beats jail," she said quietly.

"He couldn't prove it."

Not, I didn't do it. "It's not so bad. You might even like it. It might even be good for you."

"That's what he said." Jason strode away cursing, and Meg went back into  the living room, resumed her seat on the couch. Such a world of  difference between the two men. Outside, an engine roared into life.  Tires screeched. Several minutes later Luke eased himself down beside  her, slipped his arm back around her shoulders. He tugged her in close.

"Good choice." She chanced a glance at him. He didn't look happy but wasn't quite as grim as when he'd left.

He leaned closer, kissed the top of her head and for a second rested his  cheek there. "I guess so. Now start this movie up again or I'll have to  assume control of the remote." No mention of the fact that the roads  must now be drivable.

Meg relaxed against him, breathed in his nearness and pressed the button for play. If only.

If only they were a married couple and this was their life. If only he  wanted to spend all his snowy afternoons, and rainy and sunny and windy  ones, with her. A good man sharing the moments as he held her. Not to  mention his nights and mornings, too. Instead of a man who wanted to  have this brief time with her and then send her on her way.

Too soon the movie ended. She should stand, move away from Luke, get him to take her to Sally's. But she didn't move.

"The sequel's even better," he said, his arm still draped over her shoulders, his body pressed against hers.

"I'd heard that it was. So often they're not." She was pathetic. Wanting  this. Wanting the crumbs of his presence and affection. She was too  scared to analyze what it was she felt for her husband, but it was  powerful enough that she wanted to eke out every moment she had left  with him.

"I have it. Do you want to watch it?"

More than anything, because it bought her another couple of hours with  Luke. She made to stand because another couple of hours only prolonged  the inevitable. He wanted hours; she wanted years, a lifetime even. He  pulled her effortlessly back down. "I should get going to Sally's," she  said. She'd always been the type to rip a bandage off and get the pain  over with.