McDonald_SS_GEN_Nov2014 Page 3

  Needing to find some space where the smell of Nicolas’s cologne wasn’t able to affect her, she turned and started to walk away. After two steps, she called herself stupid and more stupid, then turned around, and walked right back to him. She stopped two feet from his chest and took a deep breath, praying for immunity as she pulled the smell of him deep inside.

  She wanted to say something to rid herself of her current embarrassment. Nothing remotely related would come out of her mouth. Being subdued around Nicolas was probably the price she was going to pay for indulging in all those sexual fantasies about him over the years.

  “Before I irrevocably commit to doing this job, we should probably get a couple things straight between us. You’re going to wear level 4 body armor under your Santa costume, whether you want to or not. The damn vest is heavy, but it can take a powerful hit from many bullets and still keep you alive. It’s not optional, so get used to the idea. David can bring it by so you can practice functioning in it. That’s the first thing. . .”

  Megan reached out a hand, and even though it was shaking slightly, she put it in the middle of his chest to make sure Nicolas didn’t move forward. Then she pulled her new Colt Defender from the holster tucked into her jeans and pointed it in the air, finger along the slide and off the trigger. Against public displays of her weapon, she pulled it now only to make a point with Nicolas because she needed to be sure he understood how serious she was.

  “See this gun, St. Nick? It’s loaded now and will stay loaded until your stalker is stopped. I will shoot someone on your behalf if I need to. No one is going to take you down on my watch. You have my word.”

  Nicolas leaned against her hand, moving his body until he knew Megan had to feel his heart thumping erratically beneath her fingers. “I believe you would shoot someone to protect me and I’m not questioning your skills. It was bad enough hearing you got shot while on duty. I don’t want to be the reason you get hurt again.”

  “I don’t want you to be either.”

  Megan shook her head and holstered her weapon before she dropped her hand from his chest. It confused her that she immediately missed the physical contact.

  “The sniper who hit me got a lucky shot off and took down several other MPs before I got my turn. The shot I returned to him that connected wasn’t just lucky though—it was deliberate—and accurate. David didn’t take me on in his business because I was his sister. He took me on because I have skills as good or better than others on his team.”

  Nicolas nodded. He lowered his gaze to the floor and brought it back up her body slowly. She was an arousing blend of bravado and sexy determination. The woman never dropped her stare under his perusal. He wondered why her competence turned him on so much, but it always had. That’s why he’d caved to her demand to kiss her all those years ago. He’d do the same damn thing today if she ordered him to.

  “I completely believe you are capable of doing anything you say you’re going to do,” he said with the most serious tone he possessed.

  Megan nodded, unnerved by his satisfied gaze way more than his comment. Why would her marksmanship proficiency make Nicolas so happy? He was a strange, strange man.

  “Good. Let’s hope Santa’s Elves catch your tormentor before Mrs. Santa has to prove her marksmanship skills in front of you. In the meantime, I’ve agreed to wear your slutty Mrs. Santa suit, but I may get David to bill you double for my loss of dignity.”

  Nicolas tilted his head and wrinkled his forehead. “What slutty Mrs. Santa suit? David told me you were wearing a red dress specially made for easy access to your gun. Is there something I need to know about your parade costume?”

  Megan looked at the stark confusion on Nicolas’s face before shooting a death glare across the room. When her weasel of a brother found a sudden fascination in the ceiling, she snorted as she looked back at Nicolas. She was relieved and yet disappointed it hadn’t been St. Nick’s idea to dress her so scantily. But she should have known better.

  “David obviously wants to draw a giant target on my ample ass to distract your stalker. Well, fine. I’m fine with being a target. I say, bring on the crazy shooter. I’m eager to get this stalking shit over with anyway.”

  Megan turned to her brother, giving him a look he would understand meant retribution for his duplicity was now on her agenda. “After we catch the bad guy, you and I are going to have a little chat about my work uniforms—Boss.”

  Nicolas rounded on his friend. “What’s Megan so riled up about, David? What kind of outfit are you trying to make her wear?”

  He knew brother and sister had more than a little rivalry going on between them. When it came to sibling harassment, they were practically twins in their abilities to verbally craft the most scathing insults.

  But when he turned back to the door to ask Megan more questions, she had already disappeared. Nicolas swore using a word he almost never used, while David shook with laughter behind him.

  Chapter 3

  Two days later, Nicolas studied Megan from the confines of the bulletproof car David had arranged to move him securely from place to place. He had to adjust his suddenly too tight tie as he watched her walk down the sidewalk. While he had known not to expect her to wear a dress, his prior knowledge of the girl-woman headed his way hadn’t prepared him for the impact of a black tuxedo-styled suit cut to favor every curve. The close fitting outfit was as sexy on Megan as a miniskirt might have been on another woman.

  She exuded so much damn self-confidence that sexy was an organic byproduct. Years apart had not changed one ounce of how much he was attracted to her. Their meeting in his office had proven his physical control around Megan was nearly non-existent, compared to his rigid control at twenty. He’d scared her by fiercely hugging her, but getting his hands on her had been mandatory. She’d left without even saying good-bye and the rejection had stung.

  The breasts he had felt under her clothes during their hug—the ones her black silk lapels barely concealed tonight—definitely needed to stay conservatively hidden until he’d had time to get to know her again. His urge to pounce and rip open her shirt to get to them had no foundation for expression between them yet. He already knew the woman was a trained soldier who could kill him. He also believed she would make him suffer if he ever screwed up and provided the right motivation. But when it came to touching her, he was nearly ready to assume any risk.

  The man springing out of the driver’s seat pulled his thoughts away from Megan’s body and back to full awareness. They went right back to her body when the guy whistled sexily as he waited to open the front passenger door for her. Nicolas silently glared at the man for offering, but ended up laughing two seconds later when Megan lifted her middle finger. She shoved it under the whistler’s nose and laughed just before she opened the back passenger door herself and climbed into the backseat with. . .thank God. . .him. He scrubbed a hand over his mouth to remove his satisfied smile and to hide his relief.

  “Good evening, Dr. North. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

  Megan’s formal greeting made him laugh, mostly because she sounded so much like her snarky brother. It just wasn’t fair. The woman was funny, looked fantastic, and smelled even better than she looked. Her scent was clean and not reeking of expensive perfume like most of the women he’d tried to date over the years. His urge to drag her into his lap for a better sniff was strong, but obviously had to be ignored. The car lurched forward, driven now by a no-doubt pissed driver, and jostled Megan against him as she settled in the comfortable leather seat.

  To keep his gaze off her cleavage, Nicolas made himself focus on her richly painted red mouth. When ridding her of her lipstick grew into an almost too-tempting fantasy to resist, he looked higher, focusing on the black dramatic lines drawn to highlight large brown eyes that widened in surprise at his fixed stared. Remnants of the brazen, yet innocent sixteen year old he had dreamed about for years was still in her gaze. In every other way though, the woman had morphed into an exotic creature who quite literally mesmerized him. Her shoulder length hair was sleek and fell behind her back. He thought the simplicity of the style suited her nature perfectly. Everything about the mature Megan appealed to him—just as much as the younger version always had.

  “Yoo-hoo—earth to St. Nick—I said hello and you still haven’t responded.”

  Nicolas snorted at her teasing and turned away from her amused, crinkling eyes to stare out the window instead of at her for a few seconds. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get through dinner tonight when every movement Megan made aroused him.

  “Sorry for staring. Your appearance surprised me. Thank you for going to so much trouble for dinner with my insane, dysfunctional family.”

  Megan snorted at his backhanded compliment. “Well stop being surprised. I did dress up once in a while, even when I was in the Marines. I can even do the full blown girl thing when necessary—dress and all.”

  “Are you comfortable in a dress?” Nicolas asked, grinning at her shrug.

  “No. But I just think of it as a uniform and tough it out.”

  He let his gaze travel over her until it landed in her cleavage. “Your proficiency at the full blown girl thing is obvious to anyone with eyes, no matter what you’re wearing. My eyes are working fine right now, which could be a problem for us.”

  Megan couldn’t help but laugh at his confession, but it made her blush a bit too. “I’d return the compliment, but I don’t think I could ever say something so nice to you and keep a straight face. How about I just say you look really good in your suit? Oh. . .and tell me what kind of cologne you’re wearing.”

  Nicolas smiled. “Cologne? Do you like my cologne?”

  “Do you always have to answer every question with another question?” br />
  His smiled widened at her disappointed tone. “If you think I smell good, why don’t you just say so, Megan?”

  “See. You’re doing it again.” When he sidestepped her query a second time, Megan turned to stare out of the window, pretending a lack of concern about whether Nicolas ever answered or not. He laughed softly as she ignored him. The sound of his amusement bounced off the windows and seemed to shrink the space where they were. Her stomach tightened in awareness. Nicolas had always had that effect on her. Five minutes in his presence and she was a tongue-tied teenager again.

  “It’s okay, you big chicken. You don’t have to admit it, but one of us needs to show some guts. So here goes—I think you smell good too,” he whispered, struggling not to laugh at her discomfort.

  Megan lifted both hands and cracked her knuckles before she turned to face her tormentor.

  “I volunteered to be your escort tonight because I wanted to check out your family. It’s easier to interrogate people when they think you’re someone’s date. This has nothing to do with whether or not I smell good to you—or—or—vice versa.”

  Nicolas shrugged, more pleased than he could admit by her semi-confessed interest in how he smelled. He tried to restrain his grin so he wouldn’t make her seriously mad. “You’re one of the bravest women I know, so I don’t understand why you can’t just admit something so simple. I like thinking I smell good to you.”

  Megan turned her head and glared at him for pushing the subject when she was trying to change it. Her gaze instantly zeroed in on his mouth and lingered, like his had on hers moments before. Attraction hummed like current between them. If this kept happening, the stalker would pick them both off while she daydreamed about indulging a decade’s worth of fantasies. She was functioning no better than Crystal would have. David would most certainly raze her to hell and back if he knew. Worse, she wouldn’t even be able to blame him.

  Dual turquoise laser beams pinned her to the seat, demanding an answer she wasn’t ready to give him—much less admit to herself.

  “No. My being here has nothing to do with the way you smell. Tell me about your family,” she ordered. Bypassing their silly argument seemed the best tactic to take for the moment.

  Nicolas sobered as he finally let Megan deflect his lame attempts to charm her. Thoughts of his dysfunctional family routinely stole the joy from happier moments. Why should his pleasure to have Megan’s company tonight be any different?

  “My father was a good man, but not very attentive to his wife. My mother tolerated his preference for work over her—for the most part. Despite that, I think they had a relatively successful marriage. Outside of her liking to pretend we’re part of some sort of secret Ohio based aristocracy, she’s mostly a decent person.”

  Megan tilted her head at his dry tone. “I never met your mother, but I met your father several times. Teenagers clue in fairly easily to people with an inflated image of themselves. I never felt anything remotely inflated from your father. He was very down to earth despite all the money he made.”

  “Dad wasn’t without his faults, but yes. . .you’re right. Mom is not going to be happy when I show up with you. She may be a bit condescending. Don’t let her get by with it.”

  “David said your mother remarried.”

  Nicolas nodded. “Yes. My stepfather is not worth our breath to discuss him, but I know we have to. Just don’t expect me to say anything good because he’s a leech. When Ross moved in with her, he brought two other bloodsuckers with him who are older than me and don’t work. The net is my stepfather doesn’t work, doesn’t pay attention to my mother either, and for the most part, doesn’t act like he loves anyone but himself. To this day, I have no idea why my mother married him. Disliking Ross is the closest I’ve come to hating another human being.”

  Having expected Nicolas to offer up ages and personality assessments, Megan blinked at the enormous outpouring of emotional information about his personal life. Not knowing exactly how to process the information, or soothe his distress over it, she reached over and curled her hand over his tightly-clenched fist. The physical contact started the whole flutter thing up in her stomach again, but she ignored the discomfort it caused to act like his friend as much as she could. She tightened her grip, not really surprised when Nicolas unwound his fist and gripped her firmly back.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you lost your father. I tried to get leave, but was denied it because I was shipping out the following week. It was probably the only time I served where I got fed up with what I was doing. I thought about you for months but couldn’t get up my nerve to contact you after the fact—not even to send a letter. I regret my lack of action more now. I don’t like knowing you were alone with no one to talk to.”

  Nicolas shook his head and gripped harder. “Not your fault for doing what you had to do—what you’d committed to do. Dad was sick for less than a year and then one day it was just—over. I think his death was a relief to everyone but me. In fact, I’m still not used to him being gone. And I never once expected you to shirk your duty to come home. There was nothing you could have done to change things. At least where you were, you were doing something productive.”

  Before she could second-guess the action, Megan scooted to the middle of the seat and pulled their still linked fingers onto her thigh. It felt so good, she scooted even closer until they were touching arm-to-arm. More words would have broken the moment, so Megan didn’t use any. Instead, she ran a thumb over his knuckles. His hands were smooth and free of calluses. Hers were rough and textured from the life she’d led.

  When she lifted her gaze from their hands to his face, Nicolas moved his mouth near her ear. The warmth of his breath as he contemplated his words lightly touched her.

  “You’re the only person who’s ever had the ability to comfort me, so please don’t go away again. I don’t think I could survive it a second time.”

  His whispers had the same effect they’d had in his office. She shook all over—first in anticipation and then in sympathy for what he shared.

  Megan closed her eyes. When she reopened them, his turquoise gaze was locked on her mouth. She could tell Nicolas wanted to kiss her. She could tell he was going to. Her absolute certainty was the most alive she’d felt in long, long time.

  “So are you going to tell me what kind of cologne you wear? Or just keep me guessing for the rest of our lives?”

  “I’ll tell you as soon as you admit how much you like it.” Nicolas moved from her ear to her mouth with unerring accuracy. She brought a free hand to his face at the same time the car slid to a neat stop. Nicolas was so close his breath mingled with hers. Megan was glad the car had come with a privacy shield separating the two of them from the driver.

  “Megan, all that time you were gone—I missed you far more than I let you know,” Nicolas whispered, slanting his lips over hers in profound relief.

  Too late, he remembered her carefully painted mouth, but it wouldn’t have stopped him anyway. The press of their lips had become critical to his sanity. His lips tingled with desire as they glided across hers. Her response was immediate and just as needy as his. Finally, he drew back and put some distance between them, only to notice Megan’s mouth was still open in surrender. It sent his heartbeat into overdrive thinking about diving into it for real. Wiping a thumb lightly across her now nearly naked bottom lip, he chuckled at the missing lipstick and where it likely was now.

  “I’ve never really liked red lipstick. Does the color look as good on me as it does on you?”

  Megan snorted at his teasing and reached into her cleavage. Pulling out one of the several tissues she’d tucked in there, she reached forward and dabbed at his lipstick stained mouth. She wanted badly to kiss him again. The man should write a book about kissing. He was an expert.

  “Interesting substitute for a purse. What else do you have hiding in there?” Nicolas asked roughly, capturing her dabbing hand in one of his.

  With her free hand, Megan reached into her bra again and pulled out a lipstick case with a tiny mirror down the edge.

  “Here. Marines are always prepared. Every clime and place—just like the song says.”