Part 21 (2/2)
Gideon sat bolt upright in his chair.
Megan only smiled serenely. Maybe Hugh McKinnon had taken exception to that last remark.
”Just the wind,” she said soothingly.
”Of course.” Gideon jumped to his feet. ”How about a fire in the library?”
”No talk of work? No fixing?”
He shook his head as he pulled her to her feet. ”You don't need to be fixed.” He cupped her cheek with his hand, leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. ”I won't talk about my work either. We'll sit and gaze dreamily into each other's eyes.”
Megan suppressed the urge to tell him he was starting to make her crazy. She'd come to the U.K. to be a success, not to find herself captured in the arms of some renegade CEO who for some unfathomable reason had decided that a couple of days' vacation really would be good for him. What would happen when he snapped back to reality?
She would never see him again, that's what would happen. He would go on his merry way accompanied by his business toys and she would be left with her heart in shreds. Too many more looks into those aqua eyes would just do her in.
”Megan?” He looped his arms around her waist.
It was too much. What could he possibly want with her? He was probably used to dating very successful, very rich women who could keep up with him at parties and things. She couldn't even keep a job for more than three months. How would he introduce her, ”this is my wife, the queen of pick-up-your-paycheck-on-your-way-out-the-door” ?
As if he'd even stick around long enough to decide he wanted her for a wife!
”I need to clean up the kitchen,” she said, pulling away from him. ”I can't look at this mess any longer.
You go on ahead.”
She turned to the table and started stacking plates, bowls, and utensils.
Gideon didn't say anything. Instead, he merely worked beside her as she sc.r.a.ped and washed and dried and put away. And when all she had left to do was twist a dishtowel into unrecognizable shapes, he took the cloth away from her, then pulled her into his arms.
It was the last place she wanted to be.
Unfortunately, it was suddenly the only place she wanted to be.
She closed her eyes and hoped she wouldn't make a fool out of herself by either crying or blurting out that she wasn't the kind of girl for a fling.
”I'm scared,” she whispered instead.
She felt him swallow.
”So am I,” he said, just as softly.
She jerked her head back so fast, it almost gave her whiplash. ”You are?” she asked incredulously.
He looked as helpless as she felt. ”Of course I am. You weren't exactly on my agenda.”
”I didn't have an agenda. But,” she added, ”if I'd had one, you wouldn't have been on mine either.”
”I see.” He paused and looked at her solemnly. ”I don't date, you know,” he said, finally.
”Really? Me neither.”
He continued simply to stare down at her. Well, maybe he'd said all he was going to say and it was her turn.
”I don't fling,” she announced. She watched him closely for his reaction.
”Neither do I,” he stated. He frowned suddenly. ”If you don't date and you don't fling, when do you kiss?”
He asked it so earnestly, Megan couldn't help but smile.
”I like you,” she said.
”I like you too,” he replied. ”And I feel certain a small kiss would be entirely appropriate at this point, but you seem to have a schedule about these things.”
Megan slipped out of his arms. ”Actually, I think there's an application involved.”
Gideon blinked. ”What?”
”And a resume,” she added, heading toward the dining room door.
”You can't mean that.”
”And I'll have to check your references,” she said, pus.h.i.+ng open the door.
”You've got to be joking!” he exclaimed, hurrying after her. ”You've applied for too b.l.o.o.d.y many jobs; it's ruined you for romance!” Megan only smiled. She wasn't sure what his intentions were, but he didn't date and he didn't fling. As for anything else, she would just wait and see. At least they were on the same shaky footing. Time would sort out the rest.
She was halfway through the dining room when she heard an oof, then a substantial whump behind her.
She turned to find Gideon flat on his face.
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