His self-recriminations didn’t stop him from reaching out to touch Megan Shreve. He cupped her shoulder and squeezed gently. She turned, clear, green eyes wide in surprise.
“Let me help with that,” he said.
“Christian…oh, that’s okay. That is, maybe…if you’re going home too?”
He didn’t bother to answer her but matter-of-factly eased the bag from her shoulder. She shifted Emily to her other hip and smiled in relief. “Thanks, it was pretty heavy.” She glanced down at Emily who was eying Christian with a mixture of anxiety and curiosity.
He noticed the little girl’s wariness and lightly brushed the tip of his finger across her perfect nose. “Hi. You must be Emily.”
He chuckled, not at all offended when Emily shyly buried her face in Megan’s breasts. Curiosity prevailed over her fear, however, and Emily peered cautiously up at Christian through tousled blonde curls. The mischievous smile that ghosted the little girl’s lips suggested that she and Christian were two of a kind.
He was completely charmed.
“You sure you don’t want to come, too?” Christian teased her as he held out his arms. His smile broadened when she shook her head adamantly and turned her face fully into Megan’s chest. “No? Ah, well, I can’t say I blame you, Emily. That looks like way too nice of a seat to give up.”
Megan’s gaze flew to Christian’s face, sure she had misunderstood the intent of his warmly murmured words. Hardly no one spoke to Megan that way. But no, there really was a hint of yearning in his blue eyes as if he would have enjoyed having his head cushioned against the softness of her breasts just as Emily did. His gaze met hers only briefly, but Megan stilled at the flash of desire she saw there. She glanced away, unsettled, and planted a kiss on Emily’s warm cheek.
“Don’t be shy, Em. This is Christian. Say hello.”
“Hello,” Emily said obediently. She watched Christian, keeping her cheek resting on Megan’s chest. As they progressed down Adams Street the little girl shed her shyness like a winter coat on a sweltering day.
“You’re tall. Taller than my daddy.”
“And your hair is curly, curlier than your mommy’s,” Christian bantered with unaffected ease.
Emily sat up straighter and gave a gamine grin. “Mommy’s would be curly like mine if she didn’t put stuff on it to make it straight. Your face is hairy. Hairier than my daddy’s.”
“Emily,” Megan muttered in embarrassment. She quickly assessed Christian’s expression to see if he was put off, but his lopsided grin only widened. Her eyes unintentionally lowered to the goatee to which Emily referred. Megan hardly would have used the word “hairy” to describe it. It was very short, sleek and neatly trimmed. The hair was darker on his face than it was on his head, where sun-streaked golden strands intermixed randomly with brown ones. It only served to highlight the shape of his firm, well-shaped mouth.
“My mommy doesn’t like hair on men’s faces,” Emily declared.
“Her father is clean-shaven,” Megan mumbled by way of apology for her niece’s innocent candor, but she was ignored by both of them.
“She doesn’t? Well, she doesn’t know what she’s been missing. Doesn’t your mom know what whiskers are for?” Christian asked in mock disbelief as he opened the condominium entrance for Megan. Emily’s eyes sparkled and she leaned toward the same man whom she had just been thoroughly intimidated by all of ninety seconds ago.
She giggled as she tried out the new word. “What are whiskers for?”
Christian unexpectedly draped his arm across Megan’s shoulders just inside the foyer, stopping her dead in her tracks. Her eyes widened when he drew her closer to the heat of his body and his head lowered over her. For a split second he pinned her with his penetrating gaze.
Then his face lowered more.
Emily’s shrieks of laughter pierced the fog of Megan’s stunned arousal. Her niece squealed with delight as Christian twisted his chin in her neck.
“Whiskers are for tickling little girls, that’s what,” he growled playfully. The whisker-tickling persisted until Emily was hysterical with giggles and had grasped his hair, then his shoulders in her chubby hands. When Christian pulled back Emily determinedly held on, making it impossible for her new friend to fully retreat.
Christian didn’t seem to mind. He turned his attention to Megan. Because of their positioning, his face was only inches away from both her parted lips and the softness where he’d previously referenced wanting to rest his head. Megan wondered at the sudden sensation of fullness in her breasts.
She froze when Christian’s eyes went unerringly to the tips of her breasts, as if he knew exactly what she was experiencing. Pure deviltry sparked into his eyes.
“What about you, little girl?” he asked in a low, rumbling voice. “Do you want to be tickled, too?”
Megan stood frozen, shocked at his words…stunned by her visceral reaction to them. The seconds stretched. His gaze was glued to her mouth. His nostrils flared slightly when he inhaled, as though he’d caught her scent. A warm, swelling sensation expanded in her lower belly.
She licked her lower lip in a nervous gesture. He blinked. His expression sobered. He straightened to his full height, as if he’d abruptly come to his senses. When he did, he effortlessly brought Emily with him.
Megan trailed after them dazedly as Emily chattered away and Christian occasionally prompted her with a question. Jeff, their doorman, let them through the security doors. If she’d been completely tongue-tied by Christian’s audacious teasing about tickling her, then she’d been practically poleaxed by his lustful gaze. Men didn’t look at her that way. At least not men from St. Cat’s Parish. The sudden impenetrable veil that had seemed to drop over Christian’s gaze afterwards had made her reel with just as much confusion.
More than likely, he was put off by her inexperience, her ignorance of how to participate in sexy, meaningless small talk, Megan reasoned as she watched Christian brace Emily so that she could push the “up” button on the elevator. She couldn’t help but feel a little defeated. Resentment seeped into her awareness. She’d never so objectively viewed her prescribed role or regretted it so deeply until now. Suddenly she longed to have the knowledge of how to attract a man like Christian Lasher, a man who exuded utter masculine confidence with every cell of his being, whose eyes gleamed with an incisive intelligence…whose sexuality was so potent it just might be addicting.