Нора Робертс - Megan’s Mate

“Yes.” She watched their joined hands connect stars while the breeze lifted lovingly off the water and stirred the flowers that grew wild in the rock.

Romantic, mysterious, Coco had said. Yes, he was, and Megan realized she was much more susceptible to both than she would have believed.

For she was here, wasn't she, standing on a cliff with a seafaring man whose callused hand held hers, whose voice helped her see the pictures painted by the stars.

His body was warm and solid against hers. And her blood was pumping fast and free in her veins.

Alive. The wind and the sea and the man made her feel so alive.

And perhaps there was something more—those ghosts of the Calhouns'. The cliffs seemed to invite spirits to walk, the air filled with contentment. And the glow of love that had outlasted time.

“I shouldn't be here like this.” But she didn't move away, not even when his lips brushed over her hair.

“Listen,” he murmured. “Close your eyes and listen, and you can hear the stars breathing.”

She obeyed, and listened to the whisper and throb of the air. And of her own heart. “Why do you make me feel this way?”

“I don't have an answer. Not everything adds up neat, Meg.” Because he had a great need to see her face, he turned her gently. “Not everything has to.” And kissed her. His lips skimmed hers, journeyed up to her temple, over her brow and down. “How's the headache?”

“It's gone. Nearly.”

“No. Keep your eyes closed.” His lips traced over them, soft as air, before trailing slowly over her face. “Kiss me back, will you?”

How could she not, when his mouth was so tempting on hers? With a small sound of surrender, she let her heart lead. Just for tonight, she promised herself. Just for a moment.

That slow, melting change almost undid him. She went pliant in his arms, those hesitant lips heating, parting, offering. It took all his willpower not to drag her against him and plunder.

She wouldn't resist. Perhaps he'd known that there would be enough magic on those cliffs to bewitch them both, to seduce her into surrender—and to remind him to take care.

“I want you, Megan.” He took his lips down her throat, up over her jaw. “I want you so much it's got me tied in knots.”

“I know. I wish...” She pressed her face to his shoulder. “I'm not playing games, Nathaniel.”

“I know.” He stroked a hand down her hair. “It would be easier if you were, because I know all the rules.” Cupping her face, he lifted it. “And how to break them.” He sighed, kissed her again, lightly. “They make it damn hard for me, those eyes of yours.” He stepped back. “I'd better take you in.”

“Nathaniel.” She laid a hand on his chest. “You're the first man who's made me...who I've wanted to be with since Kevin was born.”

Something flashed in his eyes, wild, dangerous, before he banked it. “Do you think it makes it easier on me, knowing that?” He would have laughed, if he hadn't felt so much like exploding. “Megan, you're killing me.” But he swung an arm around her shoulders and led her down the cliff path.

“I don't know how to handle this,” she said under her breath. “I haven't had to handle anything like this before.”

“Keep it up,” he warned, “and you're over my shoulder, shanghaied straight to bed. Mine.”

The image gave her a quick thrill, and a guilty one. “I'm just trying to be honest.”

“Try lying,” he said with a grimace. “Make it easier on me.”

“I'm a lousy liar.” She slanted a look at him. Wasn't it interesting, she mused, that for once he was the one at a disadvantage? “It doesn't seem logical that it would bother you to know what I'm feeling.”

“I'm having a lot of trouble dealing with what I'm feeling.” He took a long, steadying breath. “And I'm not feeling logical.” Nor, he thought ruefully, would he sleep tonight. “ 'Desire hath no rest.'“

“What?”

“Robert Burton. Nothing.”

They walked toward the lights of The Towers. The shouting reached them before they crossed the lawn.

“Coco,” Megan said.

“Dutch.” Taking firm hold of Megan's hand, Nathaniel quickened his pace. “You're insulting and obnoxious,” Coco snapped at Dutch, her chin up, her hands planted on her hips.

His massive arms were folded across his barrel of a chest. “I saw what I saw, said what I said.”

“I was not draped all over Trenton like a... a...”

“Barnacle,” Dutch said with relish. “Like a barnacle on the hull of a fancy yacht.”

“We happen to have been dancing.”

“Ha! That's what you call it. We got another name for it. Where I come from, we call it—”

“Dutch!” Nathaniel cut off the undoubtedly crude description.

“There.” Mortified, Coco smoothed down her dress. “You've made a scene.”

“You were the one making a scene, with that smooth-skinned rich boy. Flaunting yourself.”

“F-f-flaunting.” Enraged, she drew herself up to her full, and considerable, height. “I have never flaunted in my life. You, sir, are despicable.”

“I'll show you despicable, lady.”

“Cut it out.” Prepared for fists to fly, Nathaniel stepped between them. “Dutch, what the hell's wrong with you? Are you drunk?”

“A nip or two of rum never rattled my brain.” He glared over Nathaniel's shoulder at Coco. “It's her that's acting snockered. Out of my way, boy, I've got a thing or two left to say.”

“You've finished,” Nathaniel corrected.

“Out of his way.” All eyes turned to Coco. She was flushed, bright-eyed, and regal as a duchess. “I prefer to handle this matter myself.”

Megan tugged gently on her arm. “Coco, don't you think you should go inside?”

“I do not.” She caught herself and added a friendly pat. “Now, dear, you and Nate run along. Mr. Van Horne and I prefer to handle this privately.”

“But—”

“Nathaniel,” Coco said, interrupting her, “take Megan inside now.” “Yes, ma'am.”

“Are you sure we should leave them alone?”

Nathaniel continued to steer Megan to the terrace doors. “You want to get in the middle of that?”

Megan glanced back over her shoulder. “No.” She chuckled, shook her head. “No, I don't think so.”

“Well, Mr. Van Horne,” Coco began, when she was certain they were alone again. “Do you have something more to say?”

“I got plenty.” Prepared for battle, he stepped forward. “You tell that slicktalking rich boy to keep his hands to himself.”

She tossed back her head and enjoyed the mad flutter of her heart when her eyes met his. “And if I don't?”

Dutch growled like a wolf—like a wolf, Coco thought, challenging his mate. “I'll break his puny arms like matchsticks.”

Oh, my, she thought. Oh, my goodness. “Will you, really?”

“Just you try me.” He gave her a jerk, and she let herself tumble into his arms.

This time she was ready for the kiss, and met it head-on. By the time they broke apart, they were both breathless and stunned.

Sometimes, Coco realized, it was up to the woman. She moistened her lips, swallowed hard.

“My room's on the second floor.”

“I know where it is.” A ghost of a smile flitted around his mouth. “Mine's closer.” He swept her into his arms—very much, Coco thought dreamily, like a pirate taking his hostage.

“You're a fine, sturdy woman, Coco.”

She pressed a hand on her thundering heart. “Oh, Niels.”

It wasn't like Megan to daydream. Years of discipline had taught her that dreams were for sleeping, not for rainy mornings when the fog was drifting around the house and the windows ran wet, as if with tears. But her computer hummed, unattended, and her chin was on her fist as her mind wandered back, as it had several times over the past few days, toward moonlight and wildflowers and the distant thunder of surf.

Now and again she caught herself and fell back on logic. It wouldn't pay to forget that the only romance in her life had been an illusion, a lie that betrayed her innocence, her emotions and her future. She'd thought herself immune, been content to be immune. Until Nathaniel.

What should she do, now that her life had taken this fast, unexpected swing? After all, she was no longer a child who believed in or needed promises and coaxing words. Now that her needs had been stirred, could she satisfy them without being hurt?

Oh, how she wished her heart wasn't involved. How she wished she could be smart and savvy and sophisticated and indulge in a purely physical affair, without emotion weighing in so heavily.

Why couldn't attraction, leavened with affection and respect, be enough? It should be such a simple equation. Two consenting adults, plus desire, times understanding and passion, equals mutual pleasure.

She just wished she could be sure there wasn't some hidden fraction that would throw off the simple solution.

“Megan?”

“Hmm?” Dreamily she turned toward the sound of the voice. Her imaginings shattered when she saw Suzanna inside the office, smiling at her. “Oh, I didn't hear you come in.”

“You were miles away.”

Caught drifting, Megan fought back embarrassment and shuffled papers. “I suppose I was. Something about the rain.”

“It's lovely—always sets my mind wandering.” Suzanna thought she knew just where Megan's mind had wandered. “Though I doubt the tourists or the children think so.”

“Kevin thought the fog was great—until I told him he couldn't climb on the cliffs in it.”

“And Alex and Jenny's plans for an assault on Fort O'Riley have been postponed. The kids are in Kevin's room, defending the planet against aliens. It's wonderful watching them together.” “I know. They've blended together so well.”