Even her four-year-old niece was light-years ahead of her, Megan realized with self-disgust as she watched Emily hook her fingers behind Christian’s neck and unselfconsciously toss her blonde curls. Had there ever been a time in her life that Megan would have behaved in such a carefree way with a man, with so much innate trust and joy?
If there had been, the memory had been crushed out of her consciousness long ago.
“Let me push, let me,” Emily exclaimed once they’d gotten on the elevator. Christian handled her like a seasoned pro, shifting his hand to support the little girl’s upper body when she flung herself forward to punch the elevator button. Afterwards, Emily used the same chubby finger that she’d used to push the button to test out the texture of Christian’s goatee.
“Emily, you are such a flirt,” Megan admonished with a roll of her eyes. Still, the honest part of her had to admit that she was a little envious of the privileged position her niece had. When the elevator door opened, Megan put out her arms. “Thank you. I can
take her from here.”
Christian walked off the elevator, giving her a quizzical look when she held the elevator door. “Which way to your place?”
“That one,” Emily answered enthusiastically as she pointed to a door down the hallway.
Megan tried to remember if her condominium was reasonably clean as she unlocked the front door. She breathed a sigh of relief when she glanced around. Not perfect, but presentable.
“I like your place,” Christian complimented as he surveyed the open floor plan of the loft, the floor to ceiling east-facing windows, the inexpensive, but carefully chosen furniture and decorations. Megan wasn’t rich, by any means, but she was proud of the homey comfort of her condominium. He bent his long legs at the knee and set the duffle bag down on an entryway bench, then transferred Emily to his other hip before he began an unhurried inspection of her home.
“Thanks,” she murmured. She got the impression that nothing was left unobserved by him. She watched as he walked slowly through her living room, presumably on his way to look at the view of her floor-to-ceiling windows. He paused to glance at her book and music collection. He took considerably more time to study a rare bronze figurine that Megan had kept for herself instead of selling. It was of a young Asian woman looking upward, her expression rapt with sensual gratification.
Megan swallowed with difficulty when she saw one long finger gently touch the cool metal surface of the woman’s upturned lips.
“Yours?” he asked, his back still to her.
When she didn’t immediately answer, Christian’s head swung around. A lock of untamed hair fell over his brow. Megan gave a strained smile and nodded.
“She looks like she’s looking up at her lover. Is she?”
Megan made a startled sound at the unexpected question. Suddenly she laughed. “I guess you could say that.”
His dark eyebrow quirked up in a query but otherwise his face was marble-like, impassive. His silence seemed to demand an answer.
“That’s my good friend Tina, who is a bona fide sun worshipper. She’s downright hedonistic when it comes to sunbathing. Her face was turned up toward the sun when I photographed her for the sculpture,” Megan finished with a shrug. Her explanation sounded lame, nowhere near as erotic as Christian’s question…or the manner in which he’d asked it.
“You don’t like it when people take notice of your artwork. Still Father Gregory wasn’t exaggerating. You are very talented,” he commented as he glanced out the windows.
Megan moved restlessly. His shrewd observation about her reaction to praise hit a little too close to home. She floundered to find a safer topic.
“The view is good, isn’t it? It’s what sold me on the unit. It’s funny isn’t it, how the working class, industrial neighborhood we grew up in has been transformed into such a desirable place to live?”
“Umm,” Christian agreed absentmindedly as he examined the spectacular view of Chicago’s skyline. “Quite a few more BMWs than there are Fords parked along Adams and Monroe Street these days. I have to admit, I miss the way it was. I can’t believe they closed down that old roller rink on Ogden.”
“The Silver Flame?” Megan asked. He turned, his gaze fixed on her smile. “I had my first date at the Silver Flame.”
Christian walked back to where she stood. “Oh yeah? Well, I kissed my first girl at the Rialto on Jackson, and they closed that down, too. How old were you?”
Megan blinked at the unexpected question. Embarrassment flooded her, a remnant of her parents’ extremely strict prohibitions regarding dating. “Uh…fifteen, maybe? It wasn’t an ‘official’ date. My parents wouldn’t have allowed it then, I’m sure.” She glanced away self-consciously. In truth, her parents had never allowed Megan to date. “How old were you?”
“At the Rialto, you mean?” He was standing only feet from her now. Megan nodded, once again caught in the spell of his magnetic blue eyes.
“Eleven.”
“Eleven,” Megan exclaimed in disbelief. She couldn’t help but smile, though, when he raised his eyebrows in mock lechery. Emily giggled at his silly faces and batted her fingers at his dark brows. “You must have been a very charming eleven-year-old,” Megan conceded with dubious amusement.
He shrugged. “Tammy Dupree thought so. Who am I to argue? I set the romantic mood with chilled Coca-Cola and Milk Duds for an appetizer, than went in for the kill during the second scariest part of the movie. Not the first scream scene, because that was reserved for nonchalantly putting my arm around—”
“Tammy Dupree, otherwise know as your victim,” Megan finished for him with a censorious expression that couldn’t hide her smile “I feel sorry for that poor little girl. Eleven years old, indeed.”
“Tammy wasn’t eleven. What do you take me for? She was almost thirteen. An older woman.”