McDonald_SS_GEN_Nov2014 (5 page)

She gave him a full smile and wondered if he had any idea at all what she might be thinking.

“Hey,” Nicolas demanded. “Who the hell are you and what have you done with the tomboy I knew? This older version of you is making me nervous.”

“Good,” Megan said roughly, nearly shouting her answer.

A loud giggle followed her admission and hit the air just as the car door opened. She climbed out to keep from launching herself into Nicolas’s arms when he laughed too.

She purposely lowered her tone to issue an order to him. “Come on, St. Nick. We don’t want to be late to dinner.”

Nicolas slid across the seat to climb out on Megan’s side of the car, quickly shoving his lipstick stained souvenir into an inner jacket pocket. His gaze on her backside slid up a fraction as she stopped on the sidewalk to wait for him. The imprint of the gun on her hip was barely noticeable under her long top, but seeing the outline of her weapon reminded him of the kind of person the woman he lusted for really was. He was developing a great admiration of the person she’d made of herself, but also couldn’t help wondering how many men Megan had tortured over the years with her confusing, yet sultry innocence.

At least none of them had kept her and she didn’t seem to have any reservations with him.

He didn’t want to take her to meet his family, damn it. He wanted to take her home and peel that black outfit off piece by piece. Then he wanted to see what the hell else Megan had stashed in her bra, besides the breasts he kept fantasizing about.

Shaking his head at his lust-driven thoughts, he did his best to keep his sigh of disappointment from being heard as he followed Megan’s swinging hips up the sidewalk of his mother’s home.

Megan couldn’t recall ever using her breasts to hold a man’s attention before—probably because she’d never had to. She had been blessed by her five feet ten inch height and walked tall in her camouflaged uniform. Beyond her intimidating size, which dwarfed most of the men she’d known, her MP shield and the chevrons on her collars had provided the rest of what she’d needed to make men talk to her.

Obviously, those glory days were gone.

St. Nick’s two sleazy step-brothers were all but drooling over her cleavage as she tried to carry on conversation with the morons. Despite the attention-getting Cleopatra eyes she had purposely drawn around her own, she doubted either of the jerks talking to her would be able to state her eye color if asked. Tonight was a job or she would have chosen her clothes more carefully. His stepbrothers were both acting like dweebs about the conservatively sexy outfit David had insisted would help her gain information. She decided to moniker them to better fit how they were acting. It gave her a focus from which she could study them.

Dweeb 1—aka Lincoln—insisted on asking insensitive questions about her military service. He talked about her time in the middle east like she’d been on a freaking beach vacation and visiting a gun club.

“Civilian life must be really boring after you served in the Marines all those years. What do you do for fun now that you can’t shoot the shit out of anyone legally?”

“Working for my brother’s security firm is about all the fun I can stand these days,” Megan answered dryly.

Dweeb 2—aka Jefferson—demanded to know all sorts of intimate details about her non-existent love life. He seemed especially curious about her relationship to Nicolas.

“I don’t get it. Nico never mentioned you—not once. How long have you two been dating?”

Megan tightened her jaw. She really did not like Dweeb 2. His jealousy of Nicolas made him a prime suspect in her mind, only the man didn’t seem all that smart to her. Dweeb 2’s sense of entitlement was character defining and reflected in the expensive suit he wore. When something didn’t fall into Dweeb 2’s lap, he was probably the type of man who moaned and whined worse than any woman.

Now Dweeb 1 was the gun lover, and the fact should have worried her. Yet he didn’t seem interested in Nicolas, other than indirectly. He seemed more annoying than harmful. The older stepbrother was like a two year old looking for entertainment every waking moment.

“Nicolas and I have been friends for many years. You might say we’ve grown up together. I met him when I was just fourteen. He was my brother’s roommate in college,” Megan said tightly.

She glared when Dweeb 2 finally yanked his gaze from her breasts long enough to meet her eyes. Understanding about how pissed she was getting over his leering was finally in his. Okay, maybe Dweeb 2 wasn’t completely stupid. She fought not to roll her eyes though when he lifted his shoulders in a shrug.

“Figured there was a historical story there. I just asked because you’re not Nico’s usual type of woman.”

Her eyebrow arched. “Really? Now I’m fascinated. What exactly is Nico’s type?”

Megan was proud when the question came out much calmer than she felt when thinking about the truth of it. She watched the dweeb brothers exchange secretive smiles and had to bite back a frustrated sigh. They weren’t very forthcoming with information—probably had their hands slapped one too many times for raiding the cookie jar.

“Nico always gets the lookers, and they all look like Tiffani,” Dweeb 1 whispered low.

Megan snorted softly as he inclined his head discreetly toward the couple sitting on the couch. She let her gaze be drawn to where Nicolas grimly nodded at something Tiffani chattered about. He looked completely bored with the conversation and never held Tiffani’s gaze for more than a cursory second or two.

Did no one but her see what it was costing him to be polite to the pushy woman?

“Well, I can certainly see the appeal of a woman like Tiffani. She has the whole rich blonde goddess thing going on for her. Damn it. I do hate competing,” she lied.

The dweebs chuckled at her teasing, and her swearing, while her gaze travelled the room to Nicolas’s mother. She was looking quite pleased her son had abandoned his date to talk to another woman.

Nicolas’s barely communicative stepfather had left right after dinner and excused himself with something important he had to attend to. No one acted like his disappearing act was anything strange, but then no one seemed to miss the sullen man’s company either. He was simply not mentioned again, which was incredibly odd given his practical need to not piss off his wealthy wife.

Like Nicolas, she was now wondering what his mother had ever seen in the man.

Glancing back at the dweeb brothers, she saw their gazes were now glued to Tiffani’s tall heels and long bare legs. It was an understandable reaction given the woman’s short magenta skirt rose higher on her thighs with every tiny movement she made.

And the dweebs weren’t the only ones fascinated with the show. Mesmerized by the department store femininity she’d never been able to master personally, Megan stared as a manicured hand reached out to stroke Nicolas’s arm trying to gain his full attention. She briefly imagined breaking off each of the woman’s acrylic talons while listening to her scream about how much she’d paid for her manicure. Shaking her head at what a VA hospital shrink might say about such violent tendencies—not that she intended to confess them—but she did wince and grin at her thoughts. She wasn’t really jealous of the boring blonde. . .
was she?
She had never been jealous over a man in her life.

As if sensing her study, Nicolas raised his head and looked her way, further ignoring the hand resting on his sleeve. One of his eyebrows went up in question over the grin she was sporting, while twin turquoise laser beams drilled into her gaze trying to extract information. Why was he staring at her so intently while his family watched? Did Nicolas think he possessed the capability to read her mind or something?

When the ignored woman’s gaze followed his to her, Megan couldn’t resist winking at Nicolas, her lined eye dramatically punctuating her humor over their situation. The immediate and genuine smile Nicolas gave her for the wink made her smile wider in return.

Worry about Tiffani’s fingernails on his arm, and the dweebs socially torturing her during her investigation of them, faded away. Maybe she was just a ballsy brunette, but at least Nicolas never looked bored with her. Then again. . .she was never bored with him either.

Tiffani had to squeeze his arm to draw his attention back. It made her happy when he all but glared at her.

Now more than ever, she was looking forward to the ride home—sans lipstick this time—so she’d be prepared when the urge to kiss her hit him again.

***

“Did you learn anything useful?” Nicolas asked, inhaling Megan’s clean scent. He was tense from the strain of being polite to people he didn’t like. Megan’s smell soothed his senses after having had to breathe Tiffani’s cloying perfume all evening.

Megan nodded. “I validated pretty much all you told me about your mother, except I think things aren’t as great in her marital relationship as she’s led you to think. Your stepfather is not liked by his own children, much less you. He was never mentioned again by anyone after he left this evening. Oh. . .and Tiffani was sorely disappointed when you brought a date to dinner. Or so I heard. . .over and over.”

Nicolas pinched the bridge of his nose. He was never saying yes to his mother again.

“We went to high school together. Tiffani is recently divorced, and on the prowl for a new husband. Seeing her was my mother’s idea, not mine. I did try to warn you before you agreed to come.”

“Stop. You don’t have to justify the presence of an attractive blonde hanging on your every word all evening. Besides, Dweeb 2—I mean Jefferson—informed me I wasn’t your type. He said all the women you date look just like Tiffani,” Megan declared.

She enjoyed his heavy, resigned sigh way too much as Nicolas turned his face to look out the window. But his quiet answer was disturbing.

“Jefferson is an ass, but in this case, he’s sort of right. It’s only because I don’t really date in the normal sense of the term. I just go out with women who pressure me into it—and only once in a while. They leave pretty quick when I can’t pay enough attention to them. I don’t. . .” Nicolas sighed and shook his head. “The rationalization I have for my dating failures seems so bad in my thoughts, I don’t think I can explain the theory aloud to you.”

Nicolas turned back and saw Megan’s gaze patiently waiting for him to find his balls and speak anyway. He knew she would be prompting him shortly if he didn’t push through his distaste. Oddly, she was the only woman he could possibly ever admit something so honest to, but. . .
oh, the hell with it
.

“In general, pretty much all women bore me,” he admitted. Her giggling laugh over his confession caught him off-guard, just like nearly everything about her did. “What’s so damn funny about that? Don’t you think I’m a jerk?”

Megan shrugged. “I knew that was how you felt long before you told me. I could see how hard you were working to pay attention to what Tiffani with an ‘i’ was saying. Those brooding good looks of yours probably make you seem like the strong, silent type. I bet lots of people would be surprised how chatty you get when you’re comfortable.”

Nicolas shook his head again. “I’m not totally inept with women, just mostly inept. And I’m never chatty with anyone but you. I think it’s because you’re always arguing with me. Being reserved doesn’t often seem like an option.”

“I didn’t say you were inept with women. Don’t put words in my mouth, Dr. North.”

Megan turned in the car seat to look at him. All she got was his profile. His feelings were probably hurt, but she didn’t know how to be careful enough.

“You’re worried for no reason. There’s nothing wrong with you at all. Let me prove it to you. What color polish did Tiffani have on her fingernails?”

Nicolas snorted and barked out a laugh, surprised by the left field question. “And if I say I didn’t notice, will that count as an epic fail?”

He studied his hands as he searched his memories for Tiffani’s fingers. He had basically ignored her when her skirt dance had started. Not that she had bad legs. They just weren’t as interesting as his stepbrothers staring at Megan’s breasts all evening.

“This is not a test, Dr. North. Work with me. Trying to make a point here,” Megan said sharply. “What do you remember about her? Anything at all?”

“Her perfume was way too strong. I like yours better. Why am I having déjà vu? I think we had this discussion earlier in the car.”

He turned then and saw Megan smiling widely at him. What in hell had he said that pleased her so much?

“Stop the questions. What are you going for here, Megan?”

“One more—what color toenail polish am I wearing right now?” Megan asked, knowing he hadn’t really taken the time to check.

Nicolas snorted. “Now I know this is a damn test and you know I didn’t notice. You normally don’t wear polish—or much makeup. The eyeliner you’re wearing has me spooked and don’t get me started again about the red lipstick. It was sexy on you, but I’m glad you didn’t reapply it. You look better with a naked mouth, and yes, I keep thinking about kissing you again.”

Megan crossed her arms. “I’m trying to point out something obvious to a man whose education didn’t extend far enough into social interactions. Blondie and I are two very different breeds of female. You seem physically immune to a certain kind of female and that’s not necessarily a flaw. After spending hundreds—maybe even thousands—of dollars on her appearance, Tiffani with an ‘i’ would be devastated to know you didn’t find her memorable. Worse in my opinion is you thought she was both boring and stupid. Yet you remember lots of things about me and don’t seem to check your ego when we talk. Ergo. . .Dweeb 2 has to be wrong about your type. Your stepbrothers have a lot of assumptions where you’re concerned. I wish I’d had more time to visit with your stepfather. I’d love to find out what he thinks.”

Nicolas ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I have no idea what you’re trying to say. Do you think I’m a defective male because I didn’t have a typical reaction to Tiffani?”

Megan laughed. She was flirting with a nearly clueless man. . .and it was fun. Why had it only felt like this with the man beside her?