Текст книги "Secrets of the Highlander"
Автор книги: Джанет Чапмен
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
Unless…
Kenzie! He’d seen the creature, too! Hell, he’d been close enough to catch its odor. She had smelled the same rank odor on his clothes that she’d smelled in the air tonight, just before she’d hit the water. Which meant Kenzie did have something to do with whatever was breaking into the shops in town.
And he was probably the man who had attacked Jack that night; the guy Robbie had chased off. Then Robbie had followed his tracks and would have caught up with him—which meant her cousin also knew what was going on.
It was the damn magic. It had to be.
Kenzie had been a panther for the last three years, before Winter and Matt had turned him back into a man on the winter solstice. So why couldn’t the magic conjure up a dragon? Hell, it could turn the sky green if it had a mind to. Providence—which was the real force behind the magic—was even capable of creating an entirely new tree of life, which it had done by combining Matt’s oak and Winter’s pine. A dragon was mere child’s play!
“Oh God,” she groaned. “What am I going to tell Jack?”
The man wasn’t blind; he had seen exactly what she had, and eventually he was going to want to talk about it. That creature was breaking into the town shops, so wouldn’t Jack want to let the citizens know he was closing in on the culprit?
Speaking of which, why was it breaking into the shops? It had only stolen doughnuts and candy bars, according to what Jack and Camry had said. But it had looked like it was eating a fish tonight, when it had suddenly appeared in her headlights. Had it been using the open water next to the ledge as a fishing hole? She’d have to check that out first thing in the morning, before they were rescued.
Okay, she needed a plan. She was going to have to persuade Jack that what they’d seen was some sort of anomaly, like Bigfoot or the Loch Ness monster. Yeah, she’d tell him that Pine Lake was so vast and deep, it had its very own mystery creature.
But she didn’t have anything to back up her story. There hadn’t been any other reported sightings, and the Loch Ness monster and Bigfoot were well-established, ongoing legends.
Maybe she could imply the creature was new to the area. She snorted. Yeah, she could just see herself saying, “Isn’t this exciting? We’re the first ones to sight it! We’ll make the national news!”
No, the quieter they kept this, the better. Her father and uncles had managed to keep the magic a secret for nearly forty years, and her generation had to continue keeping it a secret. She’d just have to persuade Jack that they shouldn’t speak to anyone about what they saw tonight; not even anyone in her family. It would be their little secret.
He might go for that, if he thought sharing a secret would bring the two of them closer together.
Megan checked her clothes on the branches and discovered that her turtleneck and silk top were dry, but that her sweater still had a long way to go. She slipped off her jacket and slid the bib of Jack’s pants off her shoulders, then decided to take off her bra since the back elastic wasn’t drying. She pulled the two jerseys on over her head, rezipped the bib, and slipped back into the jacket. She’d already taken off the shirt he had wrapped around her head, and she turned it on the branch so the back would dry, sure he would need it when he returned.
She crawled past the fire enough to see the lake again. How long had he been gone? Twenty minutes? Half an hour? And how in hell was she supposed to rescue him without her boots?
Megan sat back and eyed the bottoms of the ski pants she was wearing. They were made of thick leather and were long enough that she could tie the ends closed and walk with her feet inside them. She gazed around camp trying to spot something to tie them with, that wouldn’t break after only ten steps.
Her bra! She could use the straps.
She snatched the bra off the branch and tried ripping a strap off one of the cups. That wasn’t happening. She looped it over her foot and pulled, but the only thing that ripped was the satin cup. She searched for a couple of rocks, then had to use a stick to free them from the frozen ground. She set the end of the strap on one rock and beat it with the other.
“Come on, you stupid thing,” she growled, pounding the double-stitched material. “I have to go save Jack.”
It was a good thing she was only a C cup; anything bigger would probably be quadruple-stitched! Figuring she’d mangled the material enough to weaken it, she looped it over her foot again and pulled. It gave with a sudden tear that sent her flying backward.
She scrambled upright and did the same to the other strap, then pounded the tiny metal rings on the back until they broke. She finally dangled the freed straps in front of her. “Am I my father’s daughter, or what?” she said proudly. “I should have my own ‘Survivor-woman’ show on the Discovery Channel!”
She was just leaning forward to tie the bottom of her pants closed when she heard Jack approaching at a hurried pace. Megan shoved the straps in her pocket, grabbed her mangled bra and looked around, then simply tossed it in the fire. She lay down on the bed of fir boughs and closed her eyes, sleepily fluttering them open when he strode into camp.
“That didn’t take long,” she said, stretching with a fake yawn, watching him drop his heavy load of gear.
He hunched down in front of the fire and held his hands to its warmth, glancing at her out the corner of his eye. Yup, his hair was soaked and had started to freeze, and every inch of visible skin was covered with goose bumps.
“Did you fall in the slush? Your hair’s wet,” she pointed out, ignoring the fact that his clothes were dry.
He stiffened. “No.” He pushed a log deeper into the flames a bit more roughly than necessary.
A blind man couldn’t miss her dry sack sitting on the ground, even though he’d tried to hide it by throwing her wet snowsuit on top. Then again, maybe he was grumpy because he was freezing.
“Did you remember the cocoa?”
He gave her a suspicious glance, then reached under her wet snowmobile suit, pulled out the Thermos, and tossed it to her. He picked up several more sticks and shoved them in the fire, only to suddenly stop in mid-shove. He used the stick in his hand to lift something out of the flame, which he held up between them.
Megan realized it was the charred remains of her bra. She snapped her head around to look up at the branch the clothes were hanging on. “Well, jeez,” she said in disgust, looking back at her bra with a frown. “It must have fallen into the fire.”
Jack eyed the distance from the branch to the fire, then lifted one brow, implying the bra would have needed wings to reach that far.
Megan opened the Thermos and drank directly from it, then wiped her mouth with the sleeve of Jack’s leather jacket. “Can you get your sled unstuck?”
“Not without a block and tackle and two hundred yards of rope,” he said, still eyeing her suspiciously.
It was killing him that she wasn’t reading him the riot act—she’d have to remember this strategy in the future.
“I went after your survival gear,” he growled.
“Was the water very deep?”
He eyed her again. “Just over my head.”
Megan took off his jacket. “Here, slip this on. It’s already warmed up.”
“No, you keep it.”
“I’m actually starting to feel hot,” she countered, tossing it to him. She turned and pulled his shirt off the branch and tossed that at him, too. “Wipe your hair dry. And if you hand me the dry sack, I’ll see what goodies we have.”
He pulled the liners out of her soggy boots and set them beside the fire to dry, then stood up, picked up her snowsuit, and draped it over another branch, then he finally set the dry sack beside her. He slipped into his jacket and obediently started wiping his hair with his shirt.
Megan took pity on him; he was cold and tired, and adding tension to that mix was cruel. “Look, I know we needed my gear if we have to spend the night out here. I…I just didn’t want anything to happen to you,” she whispered, feeling her face flush—and not due to the roaring fire.
He stopped wiping his hair.
She shrugged, hoping to appear more nonchalant than she felt. “I guess I’ve gotten used to having you around this past week.”
“I’m not going away, Megan.”
“I know.”
He came over and sat beside her on the boughs, taking her hands and holding them in his. “I need to talk to you about what I said that day I sent you away.”
She tried to pull back, but he held firm.
“I didn’t mean it, Megan. I’d walk through the fires of hell before I’d ask you to do that.”
“I know.”
“What do you mean, you know?”
“I figured that out about five minutes after my plane took off. I was looking down at the nesting sites we’d been working together, and realized that anyone who handled those goslings and eggs the way you did wouldn’t ask me to end my pregnancy.”
He pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her in a fierce hug. “I knew you wouldn’t do it. But nothing I said was working, so I decided to make you hate me so much you’d pack up and leave on the supply plane that very day,” he whispered into her hair.
“It worked.”
His embrace tightened. “I am so damned sorry for what I put you through.”
“And I’m sorry I realized what you were doing too late.”
He leaned back to look her in the eyes. “I love you, Megan. When I first arrived on the tundra and you greeted me, I felt like I was being run over by a herd of caribou.”
She opened her mouth, but he pulled her back against him again. “Shhh, just listen. I want you to think about us getting married. We can live here in Pine Creek, or wherever you want. I can work from anywhere.” He cupped her head to his shoulder, stroking her hair. “Don’t answer me right now. I just want you to think about it.”
She tried to pull away to speak.
“Shhh,” he said again, holding her in what was starting to feel like a desperate hug. “Just let what I said sink in for a while. Just…just give me a chance.”
She mumbled into his shoulder, but he just squeezed her tighter. The poor guy was shaking like a leaf, and Megan suspected it had nothing to do with his dip in the lake—despite his feeling as icy as a wet polar bear. She gave up trying to explain that he was making her cold all over again, and wrapped her arms around his waist inside his jacket to share what little heat she had left.
The baby gave a sharp kick.
“Holy hell,” Jack said, jerking back to stare down at her belly. “He just kicked me!”
“He does that sometimes,” she said, smiling at his shocked expression. She reached out and took his hand and set it on her stomach. “Wait a minute and he’ll do it again. Damn, now you’ve got me calling it a him!”
As if on cue, her belly started thumping like a snare drum. Jack laughed out loud and bent down and kissed the spot where the baby was kicking—then just as suddenly straightened, his face a dull red. He scrambled back to the fire and started stoking it again, even though it was roaring brightly enough to be seen from space.
Megan leaned back against the tree with a smile, running her fingers softly over her belly. Here was the man she’d fallen in love with on the tundra. Whenever he’d worked up the nerve to kiss her, he would turn red, get sort of clumsy, and all but apologize. One time after kissing her senseless, he’d turned and walked straight into the tent pole, bringing the entire canvas down on top of them. She was beginning to suspect his nerdiness wasn’t an act after all, since Jack Stone didn’t appear to have any more finesse than Wayne Ferris.
She was glad the nerd hadn’t disappeared completely.
Apparently realizing he was about to start a forest fire, Jack turned his attention to the dry sack. He pulled out a mess kit, a neatly coiled rope, a hatchet, some power bars, and a small plastic container. Megan knew the container held fishing line, a mirror and compass, several lighters, and an ozone light stick to purify water for drinking.
“No radio?” he said, pulling out the sleeping bag and peering inside the empty sack.
Megan shrugged. “We always carry the satellite phone. Besides, that sack is rarely ever opened because we rarely get into this kind of trouble.” She looked him directly in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Jack. I should have listened to you about not traveling back on the lake. I was being stubborn and stupid.”
He unrolled the sleeping bag and shook it open, then motioned for her to move so he could lay it out over the boughs. “You’re not in an exclusive club, sweetheart. We’d be here at least a week if I listed all my transgressions.” He sat down beside her. “Don’t ever apologize for following your passion, Megan. That’s what I love the most about you.”
“My passion?”
“Your passion for life, sweetheart. I swear you actually glow with energy when you get involved in something.” He turned to face her, his expression almost eager. “So what first attracted you to me? Be honest, now.”
Good Lord, he really didn’t have a clue, did he? No guy in his right mind asked a woman that. “Honestly?” she clarified.
He nodded very seriously.
“Your size.”
It apparently took a moment for that to assimilate before he suddenly turned away and started messing with the fire again.
“Hey—you asked for my honest answer, and I was first attracted to your size,” she told his broad, muscular back. She rolled her eyes, since he couldn’t see her. “It’s not like you’re puny or anything. You’re just not supertall. Why are you so sensitive about your height, anyway?”
“I’m not. Or I wasn’t until I met your family,” he muttered. “With your gene pool, my son will be looking down his nose at me by the time he’s twelve.” Megan immediately wiped the grin off her face when he glanced over his shoulder at her. “You little brat,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “You’re laughing at me.”
She immediately shook her head, then ended up nodding. “But in a sweet way. And only because I don’t get why you’re being so sensitive.” She rolled her eyes right at him this time. “What sort of guy asks a question like that, anyway?”
“I thought women liked sensitive men. Aren’t you always complaining that we don’t talk about our feelings?”
Well, he didn’t seem frozen to death any more. In fact, he looked rather hot. And sexy. And desirable. “I think we should go to bed,” she blurted out without thinking.
He pretty near fell in the fire, scrambling to his feet. “I’m going to get some more firewood. Hit the bushes if you need to, then go to bed.” He started to leave, then turned back. “Damn, I forgot you don’t have any boots.”
He walked over to the pile of gear he’d brought back from his own sled, and tossed her a pair of socks. Megan noticed that he’d also brought the two full bottles of beer as well as one of the empties. He picked up an empty bottle and shoved it in his jacket pocket—his hand re-emerging with her bra straps.
“Okay,” she finally admitted. “If you must know, I destroyed my bra to tie my pants closed at the bottom so I could walk.”
He tossed the straps at her with a laugh. “Good idea. At least your little swim didn’t freeze your brain,” he said. “After you put on the socks, go ahead and tie the pants closed. That should keep the socks dry while you to go to the bathroom. I might be gone a few minutes, but I’ll stay within shouting distance. I need to find a spring for drinking water.”
“That’s about as easy as finding a needle in a haystack, especially in the dark.”
“I have a hunch there’s one close by,” he said, walking out of camp.
Once again left staring at the spot where he disappeared, Megan decided that Jack’s hunches were starting to annoy her. Ninety percent accurate, her ass. She was lucky if her hunches were right half the time.
She didn’t bother putting on the socks or tying her pant bottoms closed, since she was going to have to take off the damn suit anyway. She walked a couple of yards past the tree while staying within sight of the fire, which only served to create more treacherous shadows than light her way. She stubbed her toe, cursed a bit, and hopped from foot to freezing foot with gritted teeth. She’d give her right arm for male plumbing for just five minutes!
She did her duty and ran stumbling back into camp without bothering to put the ski pants back on. She crawled up on the sleeping bag and stuck her feet in front of the fire, again gritting her teeth when they started to prickle as they thawed.
She finally put on Jack’s socks, hung up his ski pants, and checked to see if her own pants were dry. They weren’t, but she hadn’t intended to put them on yet, anyway. She balled his slightly damp shirt up for a pillow, lay down, and pulled the edge of the sleeping bag over her bare legs.
She finally closed her eyes with a smile, listening to branches snapping and rotten logs quietly breaking as Jack gathered their night supply of fuel. So he liked her passion, did he? Well, she’d show him some passion. The man had to go to sleep sometime tonight.
He returned twenty minutes later, set down the wood, and surveyed camp. “You’re not wearing the ski pants,” he said, eyeing them on the branch.
“I thought it would be warmer if we don’t wear much clothing, so our body heat can transfer to each other.”
He sat down beside her and took off his boots, placing them within reach. He then pulled a compact revolver from the back waist of his pants and tucked it inside one of the boots.
Megan scooted over to make room for him to lie down. “You should take off your pants. They’re damp.”
He hesitated, eyeing her over his shoulder. “We’re going to have to snuggle.”
“If I remember correctly, you’re a very good snuggler.”
His cheeks flushed deep red. He quickly stood and dropped his pants but left his long johns on. “Scoot toward the fire. I’ll sleep in the back.”
“But then you’ll get the edge of the sleeping bag to cover up with.” It was only a single bag, and opened up, there wasn’t enough material to both lie on and cover up with.
He picked her up when she didn’t move fast enough and set her down closer to the fire. “You’ll have me covering you,” he said, crawling in behind her and on his side so they were spooned together.
He wrapped one arm around her waist and cupped her belly protectively, tucked his legs over hers, and settled down with a tired sigh. Megan stared into the roaring fire, listening as his breathing slowly evened out, and she knew he had fallen asleep. What was it with guys, that they could simply sleep on demand?
She wasn’t so lucky, as her mind kept flitting from one thought to another. She thought about Kenzie and the creature they’d seen, and about Mark Collins and her samples he apparently wanted. And she thought about Jack’s proposal, her heart telling her to go for it, and her practical left brain cautioning her to wait until she got the report from the investigator.
But then she thought about the two months she’d shared with Jack on the tundra, and how they had been the happiest two months of her life.
Megan finally turned in his embrace and whispered, “Make love to me, Jack.”
Chapter Sixteen
J ack woke with a start, unsure if he had dreamed the words or if Megan really had said them. Either way was trouble. When he opened his eyes, Megan’s face was mere inches from his, her expression expectant. Before he could say anything, she cupped his cheeks and touched her lips to his—not with her usual damn-the-torpedoes-full-speed-ahead urgency, but with endearingly gentle determination.
His arms automatically tightened around her. “This isn’t wise, sweetheart,” he whispered, even as his lips moved of their own volition across her jaw toward her ear. “You’re just restless and edgy right now.”
“No, I’m horny,” she said, her hands gripping his hair to better direct his exploration of her throat. She tossed back her head to expose her neck, and arched into him with a shiver.
When in hell had she removed all her clothes?
“I want you, Jack. I want to feel you inside me.”
It sure as hell didn’t get any more direct than that, did it? And she hadn’t called him Wayne, so she was fully aware of what she was asking. Having as little willpower as a bear in a honey hive when it came to Megan, Jack locked his mouth over hers before she could change her mind.
She rewarded him with a soft sound of approval and released his hair to slide her hands up under the hem of his shirt, not stopping until she reached her target. Jack knew she was particularly fond of his chest, since she’d told him often enough.
Being quite fond of hers, too, he covered one of her breasts with his free hand, surprised at how full it felt—until he remembered why. He handled her gently, letting his thumb brush softly across her distended nipple, which proved to be very sensitive. Megan’s soft sound of pleasure turned into a full-blown moan as she arched into his touch, her legs moving restlessly against his as her fingers curled into the muscles of his chest.
Her response encouraged Jack to continue reacquainting himself with her beautiful body, all while drinking his fill of her equally delightful mouth. She obviously had the same thought, as one of her hands left his chest in search of a more interesting target.
Jack chased after her, actually surprised she’d waited as long as she had. “Slow down,” he whispered into her mouth. “We’ve got all night, sweetheart.”
She skillfully dodged his attempt to capture her hand and had her fingers wrapped around him before he could even rear back. Jack sucked in his breath and released a shuddering sigh.
Marauding Megan was back.
Lord, he loved her for knowing exactly what she wanted and not being afraid to go after it. Obviously liking what she found inside his long johns, she made another interesting sound, which Jack answered with a shout when her fingers feathered over his scrotum.
“Take off your clothes,” she murmured, wiggling around to tug at his shirt with her other hand.
He immediately sat up and pulled his shirt off over his head, then reached down and slid his long johns off without Megan’s help, as she was still locked on her target, determined to drive him mad. Just as soon as he was free of his clothes, Jack grabbed both her hands and wrestled them over her head so he could kiss her again.
He should have remembered that this in no way disabled her. Now that they were both naked, her toes became her new weapons of choice. She ran one foot up the length of his leg and somehow managed to wiggle halfway beneath him so that he settled between her thighs.
Locking both of her hands in one of his without breaking their kiss, Jack slid his free hand down between them and had just found her sensitive little bud when he was poked—several times and rather sharply—in the belly.
“Holy hell!” he yelped, scrambling back so suddenly he fell off the bed of boughs. He stared at Megan’s naked, moving stomach. She looked like she’d swallowed a basketball, it was so perfectly round—except when the tiny creature inside was doing calisthenics.
Dammit to hell, he couldn’t make love to her with their baby in there!
Megan burst out laughing. “I wish you could see your face right now,” she chortled. She stopped caressing her wiggling belly and reached out to him. “Come on, Jack. You’re going to get frostbite.”
He couldn’t stop staring at her belly. “We can’t…I’m not going to…” He finally looked at her. “Our kid will know what we’re doing, Megan. He’ll feel me when…when I’m…” He trailed off to a whisper, shaking his head because he couldn’t even say it out loud in front of the baby.
She laughed at him again. “Of course he’ll feel us. He’s supposed to. Having his parents make love is reassuring to him. Come on,” she said, wiggling her fingers as she reached out to him. “Show our baby how much you love us both.”
Jack wiped a hand over his sweating face. He couldn’t do it now if God Himself held a gun to his head. He climbed out of the snow and back into bed, pulling her down beside him so they were spooned together with her back to him.
She gave a frustrated huff, then started snickering. He threw a leg over hers to make her quit squirming. “Go to sleep. You need your rest. We don’t know if we’ll have to walk out of here tomorrow or not.”
Her entire body expanded, then deflated with a heavy sigh. “You are such a nerd.”
Megan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Of all the parochial, nonsensical notions—imagine not being able to make love because the baby might feel it? Did he honestly think pregnant women didn’t have sex? And now that she’d made up her mind to do it with him, she wasn’t about to not do it for another few months, that was for sure.
Megan stared into the fire, listening to Jack’s breathing slowly even out again. How was she going to get him past this foolish notion? He said he loved her, so by God, he needed to prove it! Besides, she liked making love; she was a healthy woman who appreciated an athletic romp in bed with a sexy man, especially when that man was unequivocally into her.
And for the first time in five months, Megan was beginning to believe Jack truly did love her. Didn’t he realize a sweet bout of lovemaking was just what she needed?
He was so clueless.
She smiled despite herself. Surely he was trainable. Her mistake tonight had been asking him to make love. He was a guy, wasn’t he? And didn’t guys have sex on the brain 24/7? She should have just quietly pulled down his long johns and climbed on top. He wouldn’t have felt the baby in that position, and by the time he’d realized what was happening he would have been way too involved.
She grinned. He was sleeping now, wasn’t he?
Megan decided she better give him another few minutes, just to make sure he was in deep dream sleep. She became almost giddy with anticipation. Was Jack about to have the best damn erotic dream of his life, or what?
Five minutes later she carefully removed his arm from around her, got up on her knees facing him, and was pleasantly surprised to discover that he hadn’t bothered to put his long johns back on. Talk about a blatant invitation!
She crawled to the woodpile and tossed a few sticks on the fire, watching to see if Jack woke up. The fact that he didn’t gave her hope. She crawled back over to him, peeled the edge of the sleeping bag off his hip, and softly sucked in her breath.
He was so beautiful, so perfectly, ruggedly male. He had a series of raised scars crossing the left side of his ribs, which he’d told her were from an encounter with a young bear when he was twelve. And the ugly mark on the right side of his stomach just above his hip bone he’d said was a souvenir from his military days. Megan suspected it was a bullet wound, since she knew there was an even more wicked scar on his back, implying the bullet had gone clean through. There were several other gouges and nicks on his beautiful body—some substantial, some not—that spoke of a hard and at times death-defying life.
She was finding it harder and harder to stay angry at him for breaking her heart. After all, what would she have done if their roles had been reversed in Canada? How brutal might she have gotten if she thought Jack’s life was in danger?
Honestly? She would have done anything, said anything, to protect him because she had loved him that much.
“You look like you can’t decide whether to castrate me or jump my bones.”
Megan’s gaze snapped to his, and she had to smile. “I don’t want to castrate you.”
“That’s good.” He lifted a brow in inquiry. “So does that mean you were going to take advantage of me in my sleep?”
She nodded.
“I’m sorry for panicking earlier. Now that I’ve thought about it, I seem to recall my parents making love while my mother was carrying me. It got a bit bumpy on occasion, but I remember having this warm, fuzzy sense of being totally immersed in their love.”
Megan put her hands on her hips. “You can’t possibly remember something like that. You weren’t even born yet. Nobody can remember anything that happens before three or four years old.”
He propped his head up on his hand. “I think we remember quite a lot, only it becomes so ingrained in us that we simply don’t retain much of the details. I can still hear my mother singing to me. I remember how she smelled of cinnamon and vanilla, how she used to rock me for hours when I was sick, how she constantly flipped her hair behind her shoulder when it got in her way, since she wouldn’t braid it when Dad was around because he liked it loose. I remember every minute of my life from conception to nine years old like it was yesterday.”
Megan’s heart broke all over again, this time for a little boy who’d had his mother ripped from his life far too soon. She instinctively hugged her belly.
Jack suddenly flopped onto his back, throwing his arms wide. “You might as well have your wicked way with me. I promise not to wake up until it’s over,” he said, closing his eyes and letting out a loud snore.
Now? He expected them to make love now, after practically bringing her to tears? Megan crawled back into bed and snuggled up against him with a sigh. She was going to have to sit this man down for a good talk one of these days, and explain that sad tales of his childhood were not exactly a turn-on.
He gently pushed her shoulder. “Hey, I thought we were going to make love.”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
He pushed her again, a little harder this time. “You can’t just change your mind for no reason.” His pushing hand started caressing her arm. “I thought you were horny.”
“I was, until you started talking about your childhood.”
He was silent for several seconds; then she yelped in surprise when he gently spun her around, picked her up, and sat her straddling his hips. “I’ve had a wonderful life, Megan. And now it’s time we start making our baby’s childhood just as memorable,” he said, kissing her deeply.
Oh, what the heck. They were both naked, they were in a cozy little nest in front of a roaring fire, and Jack was obviously ready. So why not?
He started chuckling—while he was kissing her!—and Megan sat up with a growl. “Now what?” she snapped.
“I was just thinking this has got to be the longest foreplay in the history of our relationship.”
