Ready-Made Bride

“Her parents resented me and my decision, too. They felt they were just trying to help me better myself. Not taking that damned job was the crux of our marriage. Nothing was the same after that. She hated living here and being married to me and made no secret of her feelings. Her parents blame me for not taking the job, for her depression and ultimately, for her death.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

Kane didn’t think so, considering he could have alleviated her misery but had chosen not to. “She asked for a divorce just after Andrew’s second birthday, but I refused to give her one. I didn’t want to lose Andrew.” Wearily, he dragged a hand over his jaw. “Later that same week she was found in the lake that adjoins my property. She’d drowned.”

A gasp echoed from Megan’s side of the porch. “Did she… kill herself?”

“Nobody knows.” Resting his hip against the porch railing, he rubbed his forehead. A measure of guilt compounded the throbbing in his head. “I don’t know what the hell she was doing down by the lake. She didn’t know how to swim. She could have slipped and fallen in, she could have jumped in, or somebody could have pushed her in…someone like me.”

The rhythmic creaking of the swing came to an abrupt halt. “Stop it,” she said, her tone low and vehement.

But he couldn’t stop. She’d wanted the sordid details, and he was going to give them to her. Maybe then she’d keep her distance. “I might not have pushed her in physically, but I drove her to it emotionally.”

“And it could have been an accidental drowning,” she refuted emphatically.

“Yes, but it’s easier for everyone who knew Cathy and knew how miserable she was being married to me to believe I killed her.”

A frown marred Megan’s brow. “That’s ludicrous.”

“Maybe not She was unhappy, and I have no idea what she was doing out by the lake on a rainy day.” And he’d never know, could only live with the guilt, the curious stares and the whispers behind his back.

She left the swing and approached him. He tensed and resisted the impulse to move away before she left him no means of escape. The porch light gave her an ethereal appearance and added to the shimmer of compassion in her gaze. Damn her. His dark soul yearned for the tenderness and understanding he’d never received from his wife, but which Megan offered so openly.

“Don’t you understand, Megan?” he asked angrily, wanting to intimidate her so she’d forget about redeeming him. “I could very well have killed Cathy.”

She stopped in front of him. Slowly, she reached up and cupped his cheek in her palm. “Quit blaming yourself for something you had no control over.”

Her touch was soft and gentle, a balm to his battered and bruised heart. Swallowing the thick need gathering in his throat, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away. The rough movement brought their bodies inches apart. Their gazes locked, hers dark and luminous, not with apprehension but with a wanting that nearly crumbled the walls he’d erected around his heart.

Dammit, he didn’t want to care for her, like her, even. Too late for that. She’d gone where no woman had treadled in so long he’d thought he’d lost the capacity to care. Megan Sanders was proving him wrong, forcing him to realize he was a flesh-and-blood man who needed a bit of tenderness.

“Kane,” she whispered, her breath so close it became his own.

“No,” he said roughly, tightening his hold on her wrist as if the action could keep his emotions leashed just as securely.

What the hell was she doing to him? She looked like an angel, his salvation, and at the moment he’d sell his soul to the devil to bury himself in her exuberance and warmth and claim her for his own.

“No,” he said again, this time with the strength and conviction that protected his pride. “I’ll only hurt you, Megan.”

“You don’t have it in you.”

God, did the woman have no sense? He was trying to warn her, save her from heartache and pain. “I could destroy you.” Just as he’d destroyed Cathy.

Her gaze remained unfaltering. “Never.”

Nope, not a lick of sense. “I don’t have the greatest reputation in this town.”

A sultry smile curled her mouth. She slipped her hand inside his jacket and pressed her palm against his chest. His heart beat wildly and increased in tempo with the slow slide of her fingers. “Your reputation is overrated,” she murmured.

He caught a groan before it escaped. God, did she realize what she was doing to him? That she was turning him inside out and pushing him to the brink of control? “Dammit, Megan, don’t waste your time caring about me.”

She recklessly ignored his warning. “If you’re trying to scare me away, don’t bother.” She stood on the toes of her sneakers so they were eye to eye, their mouths a whisper apart. “It’s too late. I already care.” Before he could respond, she softly skimmed her lips across his.

It was the sweetest kiss he’d ever received, honest and pure and filled with everything missing from his life. She didn’t care what everyone said about him, wasn’t running from him like a smart woman would. Instead, she slid her hands around his neck, sank her fingers into the thick waves breaking over the collar of his jacket and pressed her body to his.

An instant rush of heat swept through his veins. He gripped her hips with his hands to pull her away, but she wasn’t going anywhere. “Megan-”

“Stop fighting what we both want so badly,” she whispered. She stared deep into his eyes, and he watched blue flames of desire leap to life in her gaze. “Please.”

I believe in you. Her unspoken words filled him with a long-forgotten hope and sent him over the precarious edge he’d been teetering on. With a raw groan of surrender, he lowered his mouth to hers and parted her lips with the pressure of his.

Sighing softly, she responded like a thirsty flower, opening to receive the slow, silken glide of his tongue across hers. He drank deeply of her, tasting a seductive blend of cinnamon, apples and a heated passion that made his head spin.

The kiss was hungry, sexy and so thorough it left them both breathless and trembling when Kane finally dragged his mouth from hers. One look at her soft, aroused expression made him consider the pleasure he’d find if he invited her to his bed and took this encounter to its logical, fulfilling conclusion.

Summoning every ounce of restraint, he set her away from him and started toward the stairs. He had to get away before he gave in to the temptation and promise shining in her gaze.

“Kane?”

The uncertainty in her voice tore at him. Schooling his features into a mask of cool indifference, he stopped and looked at her. And wished he hadn’t. The confidence she’d displayed moments ago had been replaced by a vulnerability that struck a chord in him. The susceptible emotion spoke volumes, telling him without words she wanted to be needed and loved. By him. The need he could deal with. It was the love part he had a problem with. Other than Andrew, he wasn’t willing to risk that part of himself.

But neither did he want to hurt Megan.

That last thought prompted him to temper his words. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you, but I’m going to walk away before we do something we regret. You obviously don’t know what’s bad for you.”

She lifted her chin challengingly. “I know what’s good for me.”

A grim smile claimed his lips. “You think you do, but, sweetheart, it sure as hell isn’t me.”

Bleary-eyed, Kane stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He looked like death warmed over, and it was her fault. Dark stubble lined his slack jaw, and two bloodshot eyes mocked him.

A sound of disgust rumbled in his chest. He’d spent a sleepless night tossing and turning, wanting Megan with an intensity he couldn’t ever remember experiencing before. The wanting went beyond sex and lust to something far more basic and elemental he didn’t want to acknowledge or analyze. Something buried and vulnerable and too damned fragile to risk. Even a cold morning shower hadn’t eased his hard and aching body. He didn’t think the deep