Happy Is the Bride Page 6

  “Ever?”

  “Not if you want to win.”

  “And winning is everything?”

  “What else is there?”

  She shook her head, pursed her lips, clicked her tongue. “My grandmother was strong and loving.”

  “She wasn’t Margaret Thatcher. She didn’t run Great Britain.”

  “Thank God. Can you imagine the Iron Lady as your grandmother?” Meg asked.

  “I can’t imagine anyone as my grandmother because I never had one.”

  Silently, she reached over and took his hand, squeezed it. The gesture was kind, generous. It made him feel vulnerable. He moved his arm, pretended he needed to scratch his cheek. She settled her hands back in her lap. He couldn’t tell if he’d bruised her feelings or not.

  “What were some of the other questions?” he asked.

  “Hmm.” She tapped her chin. “Would you like to be famous? And if yes, in what way?”

  “My goal is to be the best pilot I can be. If that brings me fame somehow, I’m good with it, but fame isn’t something I chase.” He studied her. “How about you?”

  “Same thing. Fame seems more annoying than anything else. My main concern is doing my job well.”

  “Look at that.” He smiled. “We have one thing in common. We put a high premium on our jobs and doing them well.”

  “We’re both workaholics. I wonder if we have anything else in common.”

  “Do you want a mint?” he asked, pulling a tin of lemon mints from his pocket.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Don’t mind if I do.”

  They sat sucking mints and listening to the storm rage. Taste buds buffeted by tangy sweet lemon. Eardrums pummeled by howling wind.

  “We both like lemon mints,” he said. “That’s two things in common.”

  “Neither one of us is fond of short engagements and quick weddings,” she said after a long moment. “So that makes three.”

  “Which means?”

  “Absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things.”

  She was right, but he found himself wishing the things they had in common held some kind of significance. “I doubt Ellie and Brady have three things in common.”

  “I would be surprised if they did.”

  “And yet they’re crazy for each other.”

  “Lust,” Meg said. “Lust at first sight is easy enough.”

  “You mentioned there were three levels of intimacy in the questions Ellie and Brady answered. What were some level-three questions?”

  “I wish we had cell reception so I could look it up online. Let me think a minute.” She glanced sideways, screwing up her mouth as if it would help her recall. “Oh, I’ve got one. What does friendship mean to you?”

  “Ellie,” he said succinctly.

  “I’m not letting you get away with that. Elaborate.”

  “I’m taking on maid-of-honor duties for her. That should tell you something about our friendship.”

  “You love her.”

  “I’d lay down my life for her,” he clarified.

  “That’s what friendship means to you? Loyalty? Protectiveness? Altruism?”

  “All of the above.”

  “Wow.”

  “Wow?”

  “That’s a tall order for friendship. I’m impressed. Or maybe even jealous. You’d die for her?”

  “I’d die for anyone I love. Brady wouldn’t do the same for you?”

  “Oh I’m sure he would, but I was going with a lighter definition. To me, friendship is when you feel safe enough to say anything to another person, knowing they won’t judge you.”

  “Agreed,” he said.

  “We’re lucky,” she said. “To be able to have such great friends of the opposite sex.”

  “We are.”

  Silence stretched between them.

  “Did you and Brady ever . . .” He trailed off.

  “Ever what?”

  Shane flapped a hand. “You know.”

  “Hook up?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Brady’s like a sibling. The way it is with Ellie and you.”

  “So no?”

  “Well . . .” Meg swished her tongue around in her mouth. “We kissed once. In college. After a kegger. It felt too weird and we vowed never to do that again. Did you and Ellie ever—”

  “God no!”

  That brought another long silence, punctuated by the storm.

  “I’ve got a question for you. It’s not part of the quiz.”

  “What’s that?”

  “How come you’ve never been married?” Meg asked. “You’re handsome, hot, and a military pilot. What’s wrong with you?”

  “Never found anyone who could hold my interest for long. How about you? Why aren’t you married?”

  “I was with a guy for five and half years,” Meg confessed. “We broke up last year.”

  “What happened?”

  “One night he made a reservation at the fanciest restaurant in Austin. I was certain he was going to pop the question. I spent two hundred dollars on a new dress. Waxed everywhere. Had my hair done.”

  “It didn’t go as planned?”

  “Instead of getting down on one knee, he broke the news he’d snagged his dream job. Offered a position with CNN as a war correspondent in the Middle East. He decided he wanted the job more than he wanted me.”

  “Stupid man.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Not stupid. We had different priorities. That’s all. Or maybe we had the same priorities. Our careers. I couldn’t ask him to give up on his dream to stay here in Texas for me. And how could I leave the family business? I grew up on this dude ranch. My parents count on me to run it.”

  “Do you miss him?”

  “I’m over him. I have a full life,” she said simply. “Breaking up worked out for us both. I just sort of wish I hadn’t wasted five and a half years waiting for him to commit.”

  “But you did love him.”

  “Apparently not enough to give up Texas and my family.”

  “You shouldn’t have to cut off pieces of yourself in order to fit into someone else’s life,” Shane mused.

  Meg looked startled. “That’s precisely what I told him.”

  “What was his name?”

  “Grant Portman.”

  “I’ve seen his reporting on CNN. You were with that guy?”

  “Why do you say it that way?”

  “He thinks a lot of himself. You can tell by the way he preens on camera. You could do much better.”

  “Oh,” she said. “And who do you have in mind?”

  He grinned and said, without thinking, “Me.”

  “I forgot to tell you,” she said, blowing past that, but even in the muted light he could tell she was blushing.

  “Tell me what?”

  “There’s one more step to the intimacy thing besides the questions.”

  “What’s that? Getting naked? Now it’s all starting to make sense.”

  Playfully, she swatted his shoulder. “No, it’s not getting naked.”

  “What is it, then?”

  “I doubt you’d be game.”

  “Never know until you ask.”

  “The final component . . .” She paused, teasing him, the vexing woman.

  “Yes?”

  “Stare deeply into each other’s eyes for four minutes. And it has to be four minutes. No shorter.”

  “Piece of cake,” he said, making a dismissive noise even as his gut torqued at the thought of staring into her eyes for four whole minutes without kissing the hell out of her.

  “You’re up for it?”

  “Are you?”

  “Bring it,” she scoffed.

  “I’ll set the timer on my phone. Hopefully the battery will last that long.”

  “I’m in.”

  “Sit on the ground by the lantern.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  Kindled with yearning, they scooted off the bench, settled cross-legged onto th
e ground opposite each other, started the timer on Shane’s phone, and began the stare down.

  Chapter Six

  Ten seconds in, Meg realized that four minutes was a very long time to be staring into someone’s eyes. Especially someone who revved your engines and made every sexual cell in your body vibrate with hammering need.

  “So,” he said, “we’re really doing this.”

  “No talking,” she shushed.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He smiled.

  “Oh yeah,” she added. “We’re not supposed to look away, and try not to blink.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “Shh.”

  They sank into it. Face to face. Eye to eye. No talking, touching, blinking, or looking away. Fully engaged.

  It was petrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

  Meg had tamed wild horses and branded cattle. She’d water-skied the Colorado at breakneck speed and skydived with Brady once on a dare. Nothing compared to this.

  Peering deeply and intensely into the eyes of another person for four minutes put all that other stuff into a big wicker basket labeled: EASY.

  Her pulse skittered like the claws of a nervous animal trying to get out of a tight spot. Sweat trickled between her breasts. She bit her lip. Shifted.

  Shane grinned.

  Meg huffed.

  The lantern cast spooky shadows, causing Shane to look devilish. Did she look devilish, too?

  She noticed the shape of his nose. Admired it. Saw, too, that his pupils dilated wider the longer they stared at each other. Were hers dilating as well?

  Meg wanted to look at the phone to see how much time had passed, but she wasn’t supposed to look away.

  Finally, she gave up resisting the sheer terror of looking that closely at someone and having them look at you with the same intensity. She accepted it. The connection. The deepening bond. The total intimacy.

  “Windows to the soul,” Shane murmured.

  This time she didn’t shush him because she was thinking the same thing. If you stared at someone long enough, you stopped seeing the color and shape of their eyes and instead started to see into them.

  See past the pretenses and defenses. The masks and walls. He was much more than a fighter pilot or a kid who grew up in an orphanage or Ellie’s man of honor. He was more than his name. Or his gorgeous, hot body and handsome face.

  He was simply a soul.

  And so was she.

  Two souls together in concert. United.

  Looking at him, into him, through him, she felt . . . Well, what? Meg examined the feeling. Came up with one solid word. Courageous.

  She felt courageous. Allowing herself to be this vulnerable felt extremely courageous. Facing a fear she didn’t even know she had.

  The fear of intimacy.

  Was Shane experiencing the same thing? Questioning, she stared deeper. Fell further.

  Me. You. You. Me. Was there any difference between the two?

  Not at this moment. Not with their souls yoked by a singular smoldering gaze that lasted four limitless minutes.

  Goose bumps rose on her arms, spread to her chest, over her heart. They rushed to the back of her neck, up her jaw, across her face, and embedded in her brain. And she realized the whole world was inside each of them.

  Cosmic.

  They were cosmic explorers, dipping into the lunar landscape of each other’s inner being.

  And in that landscape she was surprised to discover profound healing.

  Their breathing slowed, grew shallower, until they were barely breathing at all. Who needed air when they had each other?

  In those four short minutes, they wove their own threads through the fabric of one another’s lives, adding depth and texture, color and warmth. And formed their own unique world.

  The long labyrinth of that look swept them on an odyssey through time and space. Creating a history of their unique world, filled with knowledge and experiences, suffering and sadness as well as exalted states of joy and happiness. Through that one extended stare they understood everything about each other and were transformed.

  And when the timer went off, they both jumped, blinked, and finally took a deep breath.

  Remembered who and where they were.

  And Meg felt a deep and immediate sense of loss. “Wow.”

  “Yeah.” His voice dropped, heavy, leaden. “Wow.”

  Where did they go from there?

  Shane was studying her with bedroom eyes and Meg thought, This time I’m going to kiss him if he doesn’t kiss me.

  But she didn’t have to.

  He crooked two fingers underneath her chin, tilted her face up to his, dipped his head, and claimed her.

  She surrendered. Willingly, enthusiastically his.

  In fact, she already had her mouth open, inviting him to slip his hot, wet tongue between her lips. She slid her arms around his neck, guided his head down to deepen the kiss.

  Sweet heaven, he tasted good! Better than anything she could have imagined. Better than rainbows and music and halos.

  More. She needed more.

  The man was a mind reader. He plumbed the depths of her mouth, stoking the flame with an experienced tongue, hot and searching.

  Meg melted into him.

  Shane enveloped her in his arms, drawing her to his chest. It had been eons since she’d felt the hard angles of a man’s body pressed against her curves. They fit perfectly, as if they were made for each other.

  Her brain tried to put up a protest. Hang on. Too much, too fast. You’re reading more into this than you should.

  But her heart won, shoving aside all doubts. Later. She could have regrets later. For now, she had nowhere else to go. Nowhere else to be but in Shane’s strong arms.

  The kiss deepened, turned languid, a silent tranquil lake within the stiff drag of erotic undercurrent rolling between them. His exquisite mouth tantalized, extracting impossible responses from her body.

  She collapsed into both the inner and outer storm. Submitted. Spinning, whirling, spiraling out of control. In the aftermath, she would be left ripped apart, wasted, but oh what a ride!

  Meg ran her fingers through his hair, clutched his head between her palms, held on. The entire solar system was here in the space of their mouths, rich, mysterious, unfathomable. It was at once enthrallingly strange and persuasively familiar.

  He increased the pressure. Their bodies were molded to each other. His was rock hard, hers soft and compliant. Being here with him set off sexy, dramatic sensations of want and need, desire and delight.

  Thrilling!

  But she had to ask herself some hard questions.

  Was this merely chemistry or a false intimacy? Or was there more to it? It felt like so much more, but in trusting those hopes, was she setting herself up for heartache?

  But in the upheaval of arousal, she couldn’t answer such hefty questions. All she wanted was to kiss and hug and lick and taste. Everywhere. In every way a man and woman could join. She wanted it with Shane.

  The light from the lantern waned, but they were so preoccupied they didn’t realize the kerosene had run out until they were plunged into darkness.

  Flustered, Meg pulled back.

  “Blinded by the dark,” Shane murmured, and his unerring radar found her lips again, giving her no time to think.

  Who cared? Thinking was overrated.

  Firm. His kiss was firm and so was his body. More than firm. He was hard all over.

  Their breaths mixed. Heat plus heat equaled blazing. His palm cupped her cheek. Coarse calluses caressed her skin. He tilted her chin, giving him easier entrance to her mouth.

  Meg gasped, hauling in his aroma. The smell of him enriched what she tasted—truffles, saltiness, the sweet muskiness of a rumpled bed after lovemaking on a hot summer afternoon.

  He made a brusque masculine noise, half impatience, half desperation.

  Her pulse raced a mad dash through her bloodstream until she was dizzy and steamy. Faint. She felt faint f
rom the sheer joy of him.

  Fully, she let go, allowed herself to be submersed. In the sensation, in Shane, in sheer splendor.

  Keeping their mouths connected, Shane eased her into his lap. Her hands explored him, eager and enchanted by what she found. The strong tendons of his neck. The bulky muscles of his biceps. The lanky sharpness of his shoulder blades. The smooth shape of his head.

  He was foreign terrain and she was an avid tourist, visiting his breathtaking vistas for the very first time.

  Her bottom was rooted against solid thighs, the denim of his jeans stretched taut over his erection.

  Lightly, he nipped her bottom lip, and her entire being turned elastic. Pliable with heat and perspiration and need. Stark raving need.

  Everywhere his fingers touched, her flesh caught fire.

  The cellar was so dark, she couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or closed. It didn’t matter anyway. She was in deep.

  He panted.

  Surprise! So did she.

  His hands keep sightseeing, his tongue conquering. He was powerful, commanding, confident. If he flew fighter planes the way he kissed, there was no war his side wouldn’t win.

  Her nipples hardened, tight flower buds inside her bra, a pitiful moan seeping from her lips.

  He squeezed her tight, chuckled low in his throat. Was he tickled that he was driving her crazy?

  A deep-seated, devastating ache throbbed between her legs. She needed him, oh how much she needed him, as all the fantasies she’d been having about him grew and bloomed.

  But at the zenith of her fantasies came doubts. They had to talk. Reluctantly, she wrenched her mouth from his.

  “What’s the matter?” he wheezed.

  “Shane, I . . . you . . . we.” Damn, she was wheezy, too.

  “You wanna stop?”

  “No . . .”

  “But?”

  “We’re just having fun, right? This one time.”

  He hesitated a moment. “Of course. One time.”

  “We’re not going to let this affect our relationship from here on out. I mean, as Ellie and Brady’s best friends, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, and I don’t want things to get weird.”

  “No weirdness,” he promised.

  She exhaled. Wondered if she was sad or glad.

  “Something else on your mind?” he asked.