“That puts you one up on me, Mrs. Hunter. Welcome aboard.”
“What do you mean, ‘Welcome aboard’?”
“We’re a family. You’re Mrs. Hunter. What would people say if we didn’t spend Thanksgiving together?”
“I’m
“Please.”
It was the first time she’d seen him totally serious, and it left her speechless. His eyes were unsettling when they were teasing, but they were devastating when they were serious, and he’d spoken in a husky whisper that could have pursuaded her to do almost anything.
Pat was even more surprised than Megan. The unnerving truth was that he couldn’t imagine a Thanksgiving without her. He knew it was crazy, but he actually thought of her as Mrs. Hunter. He suspected it was because all day he’d been fantasizing about her performing wifely functions- most of them in her satiny nightgown.
A real, old – fashioned Thanksgiving with Pat and his family and little Timmy, Megan mused. The more she thought about it, the more excited she became. It would be wonderful to have a Thanksgiving feast in the little restored house with the huge fireplace.
“Are you really going to make all your own food?”
“Will you help me?”
“Of course I’ll help you. It’ll be great. We can have pumpkin pie and homemade cranberry sauce and spoon bread.”
Pat poked at his veal. It was still frozen inside. “Do you honestly think we can cook a real meal?”
“Piece of cake.”
Timmy slumped down, still bound to the back of the chair with the apron. His eyes were closed in sleep and his mouth was slightly parted.
Megan and Pat smiled as they shared a moment of parental affection.
“I think I should be getting him to bed,” Pat said, untying the sleeping child while Megan got the big blue blanket. He wanted to bed Megan, too, but he didn’t think that would be such an easy task.
She wrapped Timmy in the blanket and handed Pat his jacket. “Don’t even think about it,” she said.
“You read minds?”
“That thought was pretty clear. Don’t get carried away with this Mrs. Hunter stuff. I’m through with men.”
He studied her for a moment. Her expression was somber. “Through with men forever?”
“Forever.”
“You’re not… um, you know.”
She blushed. “No. I’m completely heterosexual, and I’m absolutely healthy. It’s just that I’ve decided marriage isn’t my cup of tea.”
Pat had an invitation for casual sex on the tip of his tongue when he realized that wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t even want to joke about it. Did that mean he was falling in love? This was serious, he thought. This was depressing. How the hell had this happened? The rabbit. He was going home to strangle the rabbit.
He shifted Tim to one arm and scowled at Megan. “Are you going to wear that sexy nightgown again tonight?”
“No. I’m wearing long underwear and a flannel granny gown. An ugly one.”
“Good,” he said through clenched teeth. He cradled her neck in his free hand, kissed her full on the lips, and left, slamming the door behind him.
Megan stood in the empty foyer and wondered how she’d managed to lose control of her life so easily. One minute everything was clean and uncomplicated, and then,
Okay, she thought, she’d allow one man into her life. Tim. The other man would henceforth be referred to as “Dr. Hunter.” And no more of that Mrs. Hunter stuff. And no more kisses! She’d set her alarm tonight, and tomorrow she’d get up at five o’clock and be fully clothed before Dr. Hunter arrived.
Chapter 3
Megan’s eyes flew open, and she sat bolt upright in bed. She snatched the small clock radio from her nightstand and squinted at the green digital numbers. Five – thirty, and Patrick Hunter was pounding on her front door. Damn! She must have shut the alarm off in her sleep.
She threw the window open and shouted, “Hold your pants on, for crying out loud. I’ll be right there.” And she’d be dressed, too, she thought. No more repetitions of the morning before.
She stepped into navy sweat pants, tucked her pink satin nightgown into the elastic waistband, and shuffled, half asleep, down the stairs.
Pat stood in the open doorway and gaped at her. She was wearing another one of those slippery, man – eating nightgowns. This time it was a delicate pink, and she had it tucked into a pair of sweats. He licked his lips and nervously cleared his throat, but he couldn’t stop staring.
She swayed drowsily and looked at him through half – closed eyes. “Well,” she said, “I guess it’s morning again.” The thin strap to her nightgown slid off her left shoulder, exposing yet another half inch of soft, smooth skin.
Pat almost dropped the baby. “Oh, Lord, Megan,” he muttered, “how am I supposed to behave when you look like that?”
She looked down at herself and sighed heavily. “Shoot. I forgot the top half of the sweats. I’ll be right back.” She lumbered up the stairs. “Mornings. I hate mornings.”
By the time she got to her bedroom she’d forgotten what she intended to do there, so she went back to bed.
Pat looked at his watch. Megan had been gone for ten minutes, and he didn’t hear any movement overhead. He’d made coffee and dragged a vanful of baby stuff into her house and still… no Megan. “Megan?” he called up the stairs. Nothing. “Megan, did you go back to bed?”
Megan Murphy in bed, he thought. What a rotten break. Now he’d have to go wake her up. Just like Prince Charming. Maybe she’d be so sound asleep, he’d have to resort to something more drastic than a kiss. Maybe she wasn’t asleep at all. Maybe this was just a ruse to get him up to her bedroom. Of course! Lord, he was so dense. Why else would she answer the door in her sexy nightgown? She wanted him. She probably hadn’t slept all night, thinking about his kisses, and now she was ready to be loved. All right!
He laid the sleeping Tim safely on the floor, climbed the stairs, took his tennis shoes off, left his leather jacket draped over the banister, loosened his tie, and opened the top button on his blue pin – striped shirt.
He paused at her open bedroom door, marveling at her shining hair spread across her pillow. “Megan?”
She turned and stretched in her sleep. The quilt slipped low, revealing an alabaster shoulder and the tempting swell of her breast. Pat watched her for a moment. “Hey, Mrs. Hunter,” he whispered.
