Gateway to Heaven (13 page)

“
I’m going to leave now. But there was something that I wanted to say before I left. I wanted…to tell you about…that is…” She glanced away and swallowed thickly. Her courage failed her. “…I wanted to thank you for the lovely dinner and the beautiful book.”

“
You’re more than welcome.” His brow furrowed with concern and puzzlement as he watched her. “What is it, Megan?”

“
Nothing.”

She smiled brightly and stood. She didn’t look back, but she knew he followed her. Her awareness of him was so acute, she probably could have walked straight to him if a room if she was blindfolded and he was as quiet and still as a statue.

When she reached for the control on the private elevator, Christian’s hand shot out to restrain her before she made contact.

“
Megan—“

He spun her around into his arms. Part of her had been expecting his touch…anticipating it. She more than met him halfway as they crashed together.

She kissed him hungrily, every bit as greedy for the sensation of Christian as he seemed to be for her. Maybe it was because restraint had made their desire so distilled—Megan didn’t have enough experience to know. She only knew the explosive impact of that kiss.

He thrust up against her with slow, rhythmic movements, Megan pressed back with an equal urgency. Their bodies sealed together. She felt his taut abdomen, his heat…his heart throbbing strong and rapid against her breasts.

She felt the contours of his aroused sex perfectly through the fabric of his shots. She pressed tighter and closer, wanting more of the sensation of him. When he lifted her hips over his tensed thighs and thrust with force, Megan’s eyelids flew open.

If it weren’t for the barrier of their clothing Christian would be pressed high against the final limit of her womb right now.

She tore her mouth from his and backed away. His breathing was ragged; his eyes ablaze.

He could change her forever with this power he held over her, Megan realized dazely. He could transform her. The thought didn’t as much frighten her as overwhelm her, it seemed so...

…
big.

He didn’t interfere this time when she reached shakily for the call button.

She looked small and very vulnerable when she got on the elevator alone, pushed the button, and turned to face him. His mind silently screamed for the mechanical door to hurry up and seal off the space between them. After the excruciating wait, he postponed his mounting frustration until he thought Megan would have had ample time to get off the elevator downstairs.

Then he slammed his fist into the doors hard enough to make a dent in the metal. The jolt of pain that ensued wiped his mind completely clean for all of three merciful seconds.

By the next morning, the sight of the dent in his elevator doors and the pain in his hand was enough to make Christian cringe with self-mortification.

Christ, where was his usual considerable self-restraint? He hadn’t done anything so asinine as punching an inanimate object since his father had accused him of being a spoiled, undisciplined brat when he was fifteen years old. Christian had idiotically confirmed the truth of his father’s allegations by punching a hole in the entrance hallway of their home.

He thought he would have learned his lesson when his dad made him repair the hole he’d punched in the drywall and repaint not only the hallway, but also the entire first floor of their home.

“
Apparently not,” Christian murmured in self-disgust, without even glancing back at the elevator doors when he entered his loft at almost midnight the following evening.

Jamie Gonzalez and Mike Simone—the two other members of
Lasher Down
—had flown into Chicago this morning. They hadn’t rehearsed as a band in months. He had to admit that although things had become tense at times between the four of them as they rehearsed at a leased studio up in Lincoln Park, the experience had been nowhere near as negative as Christian had imagined it was going to be. Both his agent and
Lasher
Down’s
manager were ecstatic at the band’s sound and their relative ease in getting along.

Relative
. That was the operative word.

He opened the refrigerator door and stared inside dispiritedly. Warmth surged through him when he saw the salmon that Megan had insisted that he save the night before. He recalled all too clearly the way Megan had laughed when he’d tried to give her the huge hunk of fish flesh on a plate.

“
It’s too big, Christian.”

“
Well, you’re awfully small, so it should even out.”

“
I can’t eat it all.”

Christian had rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. “So we’ll throw away what you don’t eat.”

“
No, it’s wasteful.”

And in the end, Christian had only been touched by the working-class frugality that she’d demonstrated—the same ethic that he’d grown up with and respected even if he didn’t follow it like he should—by cutting the fish, wrapping it up carefully in plastic wrap, and placing it in his refrigerator.

“
You’ll be happy when you open up the refrigerator tomorrow night and have something good to heat up,” she’d told him.

And the funny thing was, Christian really did imagine at this moment that she’d pictured him coming home, beat and hungry after a long day’s work, only to open up the fridge and find her forethought preserved in plastic for him.

He didn’t deserve her kindness.

His smile was grim as he grabbed both the salmon and the unfinished bottle of wine from the night before and thumped the refrigerator closed. He hadn’t been too pleased with himself all day for practically attacking Megan by the elevator last night. Christian knew that he could use the powerful attraction that surged between them as a tool to seduce her. It’d been a grueling trial to sit there with her on the couch last night after their little spat and not touch her. Megan was uncertain, but she wanted him, too. Couldn’t he assure her that he was a decent human being at the same time that he loved her, naked and willing in his bed?

He knew the answer to that, of course. Her level of readiness had to be based on her own agenda, not his level of lust. She was special. He wanted things to be right for her.

So he was pretty damn disgusted with himself for practically mauling her when she got up to leave. Not that she hadn’t reciprocated. She had…in spades.

Maybe that made his lack of restraint all that much more despicable.

He pulled the cork out with his teeth and spit it out like a projectile into the garbage can. The phone started ringing at the same time that he threw the salmon in the microwave and took a slug of wine straight from the bottle. He wiped his mouth on his bare forearm and picked up the receiver.

“
What do ya want?”

He didn’t feel the need to be formal. Only close business associates, intimate friends and his family had his phone number. He’d given it to Megan, but he doubted that she would be using it after last night. He began to wonder, though, when he heard the long stretch of dead air.

“
Hello
?”

“
Nice,” the female voice on the other end said.

His eyebrows drew together. The wine bottle made a clinking sound when he set it on the granite countertop absentmindedly. “Megan?”

“
Same gene pool, wrong sibling. It’s Hilary. I need to speak with you. You’re doorman is a real stickler for etiquette. He wouldn’t let me come up without your permission.”

“
That’s not too surprising since the elevator opens right into my house,” he replied mockingly, but his brow crinkled with concern. Why did Megan’s sister want to speak to him?

This can’t be good.

Down in the lobby, Hilary glanced over at the doorman and smiled with a confidence that she was far from feeling. The poor guy looked like he was anxiously sweating out every possible dollar of his imagined Chris Lasher Christmas bonus. Hilary, who usually had a saleswoman’s talent for glibness, hesitated. But then Christian himself gave her an easy way out.

“
Is Megan okay?” Christian asked.

“
That’s what I need to talk to you about. I can’t reach her, which is very unusual. Can I come up and speak to you. Please?”

“
Put Jeff on,” Christian said, referring to the doorman.

“
It’s not Jeff. It’s some guy I’ve never seen before.”

Hilary ground her teeth as she listened to the doorman “
yes sir, whatever you say, sir
” Christian Lasher. Apparently, you give a guy some good looks, a lone-wolf syndrome, and a trace of talent, and you had all the ingredients for winning unwavering respect from half of the nation’s population. The night doorman didn’t look a day older than twenty-one, and acted like he’d just been put on the phone to talk directly to God.

A minute later, Hilary strutted in high heels across Christian’s wood floors to meet him. Even her walk was aggressive, he thought sourly. He sat on the couch plucking at the guitar in his lap.

“
When people
gouge
instead of walk, they usually have the courteously to take off their shoes before entering a room,” he said impassively when he met Hilary’s eyes. Before Hilary had a chance to give an equally nasty reply, he cut her off. “Do you think something is wrong with Megan?”

Hilary secured her shoulder bag and faced him squarely. He didn’t like her particularly, but he had to admire her chutzpah, coming into his house like she was ready to do battle and screw his home team advantage.

“
I guess you would know that better than any of us, right?” she asked sarcastically. “You’re undoubtedly the expert on Megan.
You
,” she said, flipping her wrist around in a sarcastic gesture of respect that made him grit his teeth and bite his tongue, “who have known of Megan’s existence for all of two weeks.”

He set his guitar on the couch and sat back in a semblance of calm. Hilary Molloy was primed to get something off her chest, and she was going to say it whether Christian participated in the conversation or not.

“
I want you to stay away from my sister,” she snapped.

“
Not going to happen,” he said after a few seconds of mock consideration.

“
You’re a selfish son of a bitch.”

When he didn’t answer, but just stared at her stoically, she began pacing and gesticulating at him for emphasis. “I know what you are. You’re a player. You can’t be that depraved, can you? So whacked out that you would want to seduce a girl like Megan?”

He leaned forward, part in curiosity and part in fury. “What do you mean a girl like Megan? Don’t you mean a woman? A woman who is smart and sensitive…and talented and beautiful? Oh, no. Let me guess. Hilary is jealous that little sister might second-guess her smug
, ‘Heed me, I’m the queen of the realm’
trip.” He collapsed back on the couch. “
Damn
, it’s going to cost you a bundle to lose that role with Megan, isn’t it? No wonder you’re here to defend it.”

Hilary’s restless pacing came to abrupt halt halfway through his acid diatribe.

Christian scowled and mentally rolled his eyes. So much for peace, understanding and the Jedi way. The stark resemblance between this warrior woman who stood in front of him and Megan only fueled his regret at his lack of restraint.

“
You don’t even
know
about what happened to her, do you?” Hilary seethed.

He watched the woman who suddenly felt like his mortal enemy through the narrowed slits of his eyelids. Her words—no, this whole confrontation—had caused a bitter taste to rise in his throat, but he refused to take Hilary’s bait. Which is exactly what her aim was in coming here, Christian realized. He would have sunk his fist into a man’s face for less than what Hilary said next. But things being what they were, he felt strangely comforted instead.

“
Did you tell Megan that you killed your wife?”

Seconds passed in silence.

“
Damn it,
did you
?” Hilary shrieked.

Christian picked up the Gibson guitar on the sofa and carefully placed it back in its stand.

“
I don’t have the answer you want to hear, Hilary,” he finally said when he turned around. “My wife died of leukemia five years ago. I loved her and I mourned her.”

She hesitated for a moment, obviously put off by his response. She launched right back into battle mode after a few seconds.

“
And you didn’t coax her a little bit to the coffin with your infidelities?” she taunted.

He tightened with fury at the repeat of the slanderous remark. It was hard not to get defensive when a missile hit tender territory. But then a look of triumph flickered across Hilary’s face. She’d shown her cards too quickly for a poker-player like Christian. The knowledge that she was purposefully trying to infuriate him helped his diffuse his anger.

“
Did you just come here to sling shit at me, Hilary, or do actually have anything of relevance to say?” he asked levelly.