Her game of dress up had cost him a good hour...and the tie, he thought with a satisfied grin.
“That’s what I hear. Amazed you kept the lid on it as long as you did, but these last couple weeks—I can’t go anywhere without somebody’s wife bringing up your marriage.”
Connor’s eyes narrowed, tension winding up the base of his skull. “And?”
“And there’s all the usual speculation you’d expect under the circumstances. Caro. The quick turn between. But then the people who’ve actually been out with you—Clausens, Stalicks, Houstons—they’re telling everyone it’s the real deal. They’ve never seen you this way.”
“Me?”
“Apparently you’re in love. Everyone can see it. Brings a tear to my eye.”
Pushing a short laugh past the uncomfortable knot in his throat, he deflected, “You’re watching Steel Magnolias again, aren’t you?”
“Always with the jokes.”
“I’m a guy. That’s how it works. Stop by after knitting club some night and I’ll explain.”
Jeff let out an amused snort. “Just for that, I’m learning. And someone’s going to have a very special Christmas coming up.”
This time it was Connor laughing, because it was entirely possible he was going to find some handcrafted atrocity in his stocking this year. “Jeff, I’m not denying there’s something incredible between us. But neither Megan nor I are under the misconception it’s love. Everyone else? Hell, people see what they want to and make assumptions based on what they expect. I’d rather they assume we’re in love than suggest something less flattering.”
“I get it. And look, I was just curious if something had changed.”
“Hell, no,” he clarified in no uncertain terms. “That total annihilation of boundaries isn’t a game I’m into. Megan and I have a deal, and love isn’t a part of it, thank God.”
Even if he took his parents out of the equation, Connor had seen it too many times before with his friends, with his business associates. Love changed things. Expectations. Relationships stopped working within the framework they were established, and suddenly everything turned fluid—became a constantly changing playing field based on emotions that had come off the chain. There was no more reason. Just a vulnerability that—best case—was mutual.
“No worries, Megan and I both know the score. I made sure up front. You know I wouldn’t let her get hurt.” Then for a little sport, threw in, “So go find your own wife and stop worrying about mine.”
“Yeah, but who says it’s your wife I’m worried about.”
* * *
Another night of champagne toasts and charitable endeavors behind them, Megan stood before the mirror in her dressing room, trying to wrestle the clasp on the sapphire necklace Connor had given her the night before. The stones, warm from her skin, winked and glittered beneath the lights, begging her to leave them on.
Her hands fell away from the clasp as Connor stepped into view behind her. His hands smoothed outward over the terrain of her shoulders, then, following the cut of the back of her dress, met again at her spine where he unhooked the top catch.
Working the zipper down the length of her back, he dropped a kiss atop one bare shoulder and then moved to the other side to do the same. “So...I was thinking about our honeymoon.”
The stiff fabric of her midnight gown fell forward, gaping in the kind of provocative way Megan had never associated with herself, until now.
“What about it?” she asked, trying to concentrate on what Connor was saying, though all she seemed to register was the play of his thumbs over her newly exposed skin.
His hands slid over her waist between the loose fabric of her dress and skimmed around the front. Wide palms and strong fingers explored her hips and belly before smoothing back up to capture her breasts in his palms.