Married in Seattle (16 page)

“Steve thinks the only possible way we have of convincing Lindsey that he’s not the right person for me is if he starts dating me and—”

“See?” Laura said triumphantly. “He’s interested. Don’t you get it? This idea of his is just an excuse.”

“I doubt it.” Meg could see no reason for him to play games if he truly wanted a relationship with her. “You can come over this evening if you want and see for yourself.”

“See what?”

“Steve’s coming to meet Lindsey.”

“To your house?”

“Yes.”

Laura grinned widely. “R-e-a-l-l-y,” she said, dragging out the word.

“Really. But it isn’t what you think.” Because if Laura did believe Steve wanted to pursue something with Meg, her friend was in for a major disappointment.

Meg got home an hour later. Lindsey had taken Steve’s visit seriously. She’d cleaned the house, baked cookies and wore her best jeans. A dress would’ve been asking too much.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

“Mom,” Lindsey said, frowning at her watch. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t you think you should shower and change clothes? Steve will be here in an hour and a half.”

“I know.” She supposed she should reveal more enthusiasm, if only for show, but she couldn’t make herself do it. This had been Steve’s idea and she’d agreed, but she still wasn’t convinced.

“I was thinking you should wear that sundress we bought last year with the pretty red-rose print,” Lindsey suggested. “That and your white sandals.” She studied her mother critically. “I wish you had one of those broad-brimmed sun hats. A pretty white one would be perfect. Very romantic.”

“We’ll just have to make do with the sombrero Grandpa bought you in Mexico,” Meg teased.

“Mother,” Lindsey cried, appalled. “That would look stupid!”

Meg sighed dramatically, for effect. “I don’t know how I managed to dress myself all these years without you.”

She thought—or hoped—that her daughter would laugh. Lindsey didn’t. “That might be the reason you’re still single. Have you considered that?”

This kid was no help when it came to boosting her confidence.

“You’re a great mother,” Lindsey said, redeeming herself somewhat, “but promise me you’ll never go clothes-shopping without me again.”

Rather than make rash pledges she had no intention of keeping, Meg hurried up the stairs and got into the shower. The hot water pulsating against her skin refreshed her and renewed her sense of humor. She could hardly wait to see Lindsey’s face when she met Steve.

With a towel tucked around her, Meg wandered into her bedroom and examined the contents of her closet. In this case, Lindsey was right; the sundress was her best choice. She wore it, Meg told herself, because it looked good on her and
not
because Lindsey had suggested it.

Her daughter was waiting for her in the living room. The floral arrangement Steve, or rather Nancy, had sent was displayed in the middle of the coffee table.

Lindsey had polished the silver tea set until it gleamed. The previous time Meg had used it was when Pastor Delany came for a visit shortly after Meg’s father died.

The doorbell chimed. Lindsey turned to her mother with a grin. “We’re ready,” she said, and gave her a thumbs-up sign.

Meg had assumed she knew what to expect, but when she opened the front door her mouth sagged open.

“Steve?” she whispered to the man dressed in a black leather jacket, tight blue jeans and a white T-shirt. “Is that you?”

He winked at her. “You expecting someone else?”

“N-no,” she stammered.

“Invite me in,” he said in a low voice. As she stepped
aside, he walked past her and placed his index finger under her chin, closing her mouth.

He stood in the archway between the entry and her living room, feet braced apart. “You must be Lindsey,” he said gruffly. “I’m Steve.”

“You’re Steve?” Lindsey sounded uncharacteristically meek.

“Lindsey, this is Steve Conlan,” Meg said, standing next to him.

Steve slid his arm around Meg’s waist and planted a noisy kiss on her cheek. He glanced at Lindsey. “I understand you’re the one who got us together. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Lindsey’s eyes didn’t so much as flicker. She certainly wasn’t about to let them read her thoughts. “You, uh, don’t look anything like your picture.”

Steve refused to take his eyes off Meg. He squeezed her waist again. “The one I sent was taken a while back,” he said. “Before I went to prison.”

Lindsey gasped. “Prison?”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. It wasn’t a violent crime.”

“What…were you in for?” Lindsey asked, her voice shaking.

Steve rubbed the side of his jaw, shadowed by a dark growth of beard. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not say.”

“Sit down, Steve,” Meg said from between gritted teeth. Talk about overkill. Any more of this and everything would be ruined.

“Would you care for coffee?” Lindsey asked. Her young voice continued to tremble.

“You got a beer?”

“It’s not a good idea to be drinking this early in the afternoon, is it?” Meg asked sweetly.

Steve sat down on the sofa, balancing his ankle on the opposite knee. He looked around as if he were casing the joint.

Meg moved to the silver service. “Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, but add a little something that’ll give it some kick.”

Meg poured coffee for him and added a generous dollop of half-and-half. He frowned at the delicate bone china cup as though he wasn’t sure how to hold it.

Lindsey sat down on the ottoman, her eyes huge. “I…you never said anything about prison.”

“Don’t like to mention it until people have a chance to meet me for themselves. Some of ’em tend to think the worst of a person when they hear he’s had a felony conviction.”

“A…felony.” Lindsey snapped her mouth shut, inhaled deeply, then said in a subdued tone, “I see.”

“The flowers are lovely.” Meg fingered a rosebud from the bouquet.

Steve grinned. “My probation officer told me women like that sort of thing. Glad to know he was right.” He sipped his coffee and made a slurping sound. “By the way, you’ll be glad to hear I told him about you and me, and he did a background check on you and said it was fine for us to see each other.”

“That’s wonderful,” Meg said with enthusiasm that wasn’t
entirely
faked.

Steve set aside the delicate cup and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He stared at Lindsey and smiled. “Yup, I got to thank you,” he said. “I realize your mother’s upset with you placing that ad and everything. It’s usually not a good idea to fool someone like that, but I wasn’t being completely honest with you, either, so I guess we’re even.”

Lindsey nodded.

“Your mother’s one special woman. There aren’t a lot of females who’d be willing to overlook my past. Most women don’t care that I’ve got a heart of gold. Your mama did. We sat down in that fancy restaurant and I took one look at her pretty face and I knew she was the woman for me.” He rubbed the side of his unshaven jaw and laughed. “I do have to tell you, though, that when you suggested Chez Michelle, I was afraid Meg might be too high maintenance for someone like me.”

“I’m sorry…” Lindsey floundered with the apology. “I didn’t know.”

“Don’t you worry. Your mama was worth every penny of that fancy dinner. Just getting to know her and love her—why, a man couldn’t ask for a prettier gal.” He eyed her as if she were a Thanksgiving feast, then moistened his lips, implying it was all he could do to keep from grabbing her right then and there and kissing her.

“Steve…” Meg muttered.

“Sorry,” he said, and seemed to pull himself together. “Earl Markham, my probation officer, says I’ve gotta be careful not to rush things. But I look at your beautiful eyes and I can’t help myself.”

“Yes, well…”

“You didn’t tell me how good-looking your daughter is,” he said, as though Meg had purposely been holding out on him.

“Lindsey’s my pride and joy,” Meg said, beaming her daughter a smile.

“I got plenty of friends who wouldn’t mind meeting a good-looking girl like you.” He winked at Lindsey, suggesting that all he needed was one word from her and he’d make the arrangements immediately.

“Absolutely not!” Meg said, forgetting this was just a game. “I won’t have you introducing my daughter to your friends.”

Steve’s eyes widened with surprise and he held up his right hand, as if taking an oath. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. You don’t want Lindsey dating any of my buddies, fine, I’ll see it never happens.”

“Good.” Meg had to acknowledge that Steve was an excellent actor. He almost had
her
believing him. She suspected that was because he’d turned himself into the man she’d half expected to meet that night.

Steve smacked his lips. “I gotta tell you when I first saw Meg in that pretty black dress, my heart went all the way to the floor. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve seen since I was released.” His eyes softened as his gaze fell on Meg.

“Released?” Lindsey squeaked.

“From prison,” Steve clarified, his gaze immediately returning to Meg.

It would help considerably if he didn’t look so sincere, Meg thought.

“Yes, well…” she said, standing. But once she was on her feet, she wasn’t sure what to do.

“I’ll bet you want me to take you on that motorcycle ride I been promising you,” Steve said, downing the last of his coffee.

“Mom’s going on a motorcycle with you?” Lindsey asked, swallowing visibly.

“I’d better change clothes,” Meg said, eager to escape so she could speak to Steve alone.

“No need,” Steve said. “You can ride sidesaddle if you want. I brought my Hog. There’s plenty of room, although I gotta tell you, I been dreaming about you sitting behind me, wrapping your arms around my waist. You’ll need to hold on tight, honey, real tight.” His eyes didn’t waver from hers, and the sexual innuendo was unmistakable.

“Yes, well…” Either the room had grown considerably warmer or Meg was in deep trouble.

Judging by the look of disgust Lindsey cast her, she could see it was the latter.

“I think I’ll change into a pair of jeans, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Sure,” Steve said, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “Just don’t keep me waiting long, you hear?”

“I won’t,” she promised.

Meg rushed toward the stairs, anxious to get away.

Steve reached out to stop her. His hand closed over her shoulder and he brought her into his arms. She gasped in
shock. Without giving her time to recover, he lowered his mouth to hers.

It was all for show, but that didn’t keep her heart from fluttering wildly. Her stomach muscles tightened at the unexpectedness of his kiss.

Her lips parted and she slid her arms tightly around his narrow waist.

Steve groaned and Meg was afraid the hunger she felt in him was a reflection of her own. By the time he dragged his lips from hers they were both panting. Speechless, they stared at each other.

“I’ll…I’ll be right back,” she managed to whisper. Then she raced up the stairs as if demons were in hot pursuit. On the way she caught a glimpse of Lindsey staring after her, open-mouthed.

T
he minute they were alone outside, Meg hit Steve across his upper arm, hurting her hand in the process. Biting her lip, she shook her fingers several times, then clutched her aching hand protectively with the other.

“What was that for?” Steve demanded, glaring at her.

“You overdid it,” she snapped, barely understanding her own outrage.

“I had to convince her I was unsuitable, didn’t I?”

Meg bristled. “Yes, but you went above and beyond what we discussed. All that business about me being so beautiful,” she muttered as she walked to the driveway where he’d parked the Harley-Davidson. She climbed onto the leather seat without thinking.

“I thought I did a great job,” Steve argued. A smile raised the edges of his mouth.

“That’s another thing,” she said, unable to stop looking at him. “Was that kiss really necessary?”

“Yes,” he said calmly, but Meg could tell that he didn’t take kindly to her rebuke. “Lindsey needed to see me in action,” he insisted.

“You frightened my daughter half out of her wits as it was. There was no need to…”

Steve’s eyes widened, then softened into a smile. “You liked the kiss,” he said flatly. “You liked it and that scared you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! It…it was disgusting.”

“No, it wasn’t.” His smile was cocky. He laughed, the timbre low and mildly threatening. “Maybe I should prove how wrong you are.”

Meg shifted uncomfortably on the seat. “Let’s get this over with,” she said, feigning boredom. “You’re going to take me out for an hour or so and then drive me back. Right? By the way, where did you get the motorcycle?”

He advanced a step toward her. “It’s mine.”

“Yours?” He was exactly the kind of man her mother had warned her about, and here she was flirting with danger. He moved a step closer and she held herself rigid.

“You don’t know much about men, do you?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

“I was married for nearly six years,” she informed him primly. He was close now, too close. She kept her spine stiff and her eyes straight ahead. If the motorcycle was his, it was reasonable to assume the leather jacket belonged to him as well. The persona he’d taken on, the criminal element, might not be too far from the truth.

“You haven’t been with a man since, have you?”

She felt his breath against her flushed face. “I refuse to answer questions of a personal nature,” she returned, her voice hoarse and low.

“You haven’t,” he said confidently. “Look at me, Meg.”

“No. Let’s get this ride over with.”

“Look at me,” he repeated.

She tried to resist, but the words were warm and hypnotic. Against her better judgment, she twisted toward him. “Yes?” she asked, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might leap right through her chest.

He wove his hands into her hair and tilted her head back so that she couldn’t avoid staring up at him. His gaze bored relentlessly into hers.

“Admit it,” he whispered. “You enjoyed the kiss.” His eyes were compelling, she admitted reluctantly, resisting him every step.

“How like a man—everything’s about ego,” she said in an effort to make light of what had happened. “Even a silly little kiss.”

Steve frowned.

There was a fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach, the same feeling that had attacked her when he’d kissed her by the staircase. She felt vulnerable and helpless.

“It wasn’t little and it wasn’t silly. But it was what we both wanted,” he said in a deceptively normal voice.

“You’re crazy,” she murmured, hurrying to assure him that he’d been wrong. Very wrong. She lowered her eyes, but this proved to be a tactical error. Before she realized what he intended, he was kissing her again.

Meg wanted to protest. If she’d fought him, struggled, he might have released her. But her one weak objection came in the form of a moan, and it appeared to encourage rather than dissuade him.

All at once it was important to get closer. A moment later she was kneeling on the leather cushion and Steve had slipped his arms around her middle. They didn’t stay there long. He glided his hands along her back, urging her more tightly against him.

Meg didn’t require much inducement. Her body willfully molded itself to his. Then, abruptly, her eyes fluttered open and with a determined effort she broke free. Steve’s arms tightened before he relaxed and finally released her.

The look on his face was one of shock.

For her own part, Meg was having a difficult time breathing. Sensations swarmed through her. Unwanted sensations. Steve made her feel as if she’d never been kissed before, never been held or loved. Never been married or shared intimacies with a man.

She blinked, and Steve backed away. He frowned and raked his fingers through his hair, apparently sorting out his own troubled emotions.

“I suppose you expect me to admit I enjoyed that,” she said with more than a hint of belligerence. These feelings frightened her. The fact that she’d reacted to him could easily be explained. Good grief, she was a normal woman—but this giddy, end-of-the-world sensation wasn’t anything she’d ever experienced.

“You don’t have to admit to a damned thing,” he said. He climbed onto the Hog and revved the engine aggressively.

“Stop,” she cried, shouting above the noise. She waved a hand to clear away the exhaust.

“What’s wrong now?” he snapped, twisting around to look at her.

“Nothing…. Just go slow, all right?”

Separated by only a couple of inches, Meg felt him tense. “I’m not exactly in a slow mood.”

“I guessed as much.”

She didn’t know what he intended as he expertly maneuvered the motorcycle out of her driveway. Mortified, Meg glanced up and down the street, wondering how many of her neighbors had witnessed the exchange between her and Steve. Fortunately Lindsey wasn’t at the front window watching as Meg had half feared.

“Hang on,” he shouted.

She placed her hands lightly on either side of his waist, hoping to keep the contact as impersonal as possible—until they turned the first corner. From that moment on, she wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could.

Meg was grateful that he chose not to drive far. He stopped at a park less than a mile from her house. After he’d eased into a parking space, he switched off the engine and sat motionless for a couple of minutes.

“You okay?” he asked after a while.

“I’m fine. Great. That was…fun.” She was astonished at her new talent for telling white lies. She was far from fine. Her insides were a mess, although that had almost
nothing to do with the motorcycle ride. Her heart refused to settle down to a normal pace, and she couldn’t stop thinking about their kisses. The first time had been traumatic, but it didn’t compare to her nearly suffocating reaction to his second kiss.

Steve checked his watch. “We’ll give it another five minutes and then I’ll take you back to the house. That should give Lindsey enough time to worry about you without sending her into a panic.”

“Perfect,” she said brightly—a little too brightly.

“Then tomorrow afternoon I’ll pick you up after work and you can do your thing with my sister.”

Although he couldn’t see her, she nodded. Meg only hoped her act for Nancy would be as convincing as Steve’s had been with Lindsey.

“After that, we won’t need to see each other again,” Steve said. “As far as I’m concerned, it isn’t a minute too soon.”

Meg felt much the same way. She was just as eager to get him out of her life.

Wasn’t she?

It hadn’t been a good day. Steve would’ve liked to blame his foul mood on work-related problems, but everything at Emerald City Body Shop had run like clockwork. The one reason that presented itself was Meg Remington.

He’d known from the first night that getting involved with her would mean trouble. Sure enough, he was waist-deep in quicksand, and all because he hadn’t wanted to hurt the woman’s feelings.

Okay, that accounted for their dinner date, but afterward…what happened was no one’s fault except his own. Donning his leather jacket and jeans and playing the role of the disgruntled ex-con had been fun. But then he had to go and do something stupid.

The stupid part was because of the kiss. He’d been a fool to force Meg to admit how good it had been. This was what he got for allowing his pride to stand in the way.

Well, Steve had learned his lesson. The next time he was tempted to kiss Meg, he’d go stand in the middle of the freeway. Man, oh man, she could kiss. Only she didn’t seem to realize it. Much more of that kissing and he would’ve been renting a hotel room.

Not Meg, though. Oh, no. She acted as outraged as a nun. Apparently she’d forgotten that men and women did that sort of thing. Enjoyed it, too. Looked forward to doing it again.

The woman was insane, and the sooner he could extract her from his life, the better. He didn’t need this. Who did?

One more night, he assured himself. He was taking Meg to meet Nancy this evening, and when they were finished, it would be over and they’d never have to see each other again. If she played her cards right. He’d done his part.

Despite his sour mood, Steve grinned. He’d never forget the look of shock and horror in Lindsey’s eyes when he walked into the house. Her jaw had nearly hit the carpet when he put his arms around Meg’s waist and announced that he was an ex-con. He wouldn’t forget the look in Meg’s eyes, either.

Steve laughed outright.

“Something funny?” Gary Wilcox asked.

Steve glared at his foreman. “Not a thing. Now get back to work.”

At six o’clock, Steve pulled into the parking space in the alley behind Meg’s bookstore. He didn’t like the idea of sneaking around and going to her back door, but that was what Meg wanted and far be it from him to argue. He’d be well rid of the woman—at least that was what he kept trying to tell himself.

He knocked and waited a few minutes, growing impatient.

The door opened and a woman in black mesh nylons and the shortest miniskirt he’d seen in years stood in front of him. She vaguely resembled Tina Turner. She wore tons of makeup and she’d certainly had her hair done at the same salon as Tina.

“I’m here for Meg Remington,” he said, annoyed that Meg had made such a fuss about his coming to the back door and then sent someone else to answer it.

“Steve,” Meg whispered, “it’s me.”

“What the hell?” He jerked his head back and examined her more thoroughly. “We’re meeting my sister,” he reminded her stiffly, “not going to some costume party.”

“I took my cue from you,” she said. “Good grief! You arrived at my door looking like a Hell’s Angel—what did you expect
me
to do?”

Steve rubbed his face. Darned if he knew anymore. All he wanted was to get this over with. “Fine. Let’s get out of here.”

“Just a minute. I need to change shoes.”

She slipped out of a perfectly fine pair of flats and into
spiky high heels that added a good five inches to her height. Steve wondered how she’d manage to walk in those things. She might as well have been on stilts.

He led her around to his car and opened the door. He noticed that she sighed with what sounded like relief once she was inside the car.

“I didn’t know what I was going to do if you brought that motorcycle again.” She tugged down her miniskirt self-consciously.

“For the record, I don’t often take it out.”

She looked relieved, but why it should matter to her one way or the other, he had no idea.

“Just remember,” he said, feeling obliged to caution her. “Nancy’s a few years older than Lindsey. She won’t be as easily fooled.”

“I’ll be careful about overkill,” she mumbled, “unlike certain people I know.”

The drive took an eternity, and it wasn’t due to heavy traffic, either. In fact, when Steve looked at his watch he was surprised at what good time they’d made. What made the drive so troublesome—he hated to admit this—was Meg’s legs. She’d crossed them, exposing plenty of smooth, shapely thigh. Her high heels dangled from the ends of her toes.

Steve appreciated women as a whole—some more than others, of course. He didn’t focus on body parts. But it was torture to sit with Meg in the close confines of his car and keep his eyes off her legs. The woman looked incredible. If only she’d keep her mouth shut!

Nancy was standing on the porch when Steve pulled into the driveway.

“This is where your sister lives?” Meg asked.

“It’s my home,” Steve answered, certain she was about to find something wrong with it.

“Your home?” She sounded impressed. “It’s very nice.”

“Thanks.” He turned off the engine. “Nancy’s quite a bit younger than I am—a surprise for my mom and dad. She attends college at the University of Washington nine months out of the year. Our parents retired to Montana a couple of years back.”

“I see. Does Nancy live with you?”

“Not on your life,” he said, climbing out of the car. “She’s in residence during the school year. She got a job here this summer and I agreed to let her stay with me a few months. A mistake I don’t plan to repeat anytime soon.”

Steve was watching for his sister’s reaction when he helped Meg out of the car. To her credit, the nineteen-year-old didn’t reveal much, but Steve knew her well enough to realize she was shocked by Meg’s appearance.

“You must be Nancy,” Meg said in a low, sultry voice.

“And you must be Meg,” Nancy said, coming down the steps to greet her. “I’ve been dying to meet you.”

“I hope I’m not a disappointment.” This was said in a soft, cooing tone, as if she couldn’t have tolerated disillusioning Steve’s little sister. She clasped Steve’s arm and he noticed for the first time that her nails—now two inches long—were painted a brilliant fire engine red.

Nancy held open the door and smiled in welcome. “Please, come inside.”

Meg’s high heels clattered against the tile entryway. Steve looked around, pleased to note that his sister had cleaned up the house a bit.

“Oh, Stevie,” Meg whined, “you never told me what a beautiful home you have.” She trailed one finger along the underside of his jaw. “But then, we haven’t had time to discuss much of anything, have we?”