Laughter rumbled out of his chest. He stood and reached for her.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. His embrace was warm, comforting…non-threatening. Tension slowly seeped out of Megan’s body. She placed her palms and cheek against his chest and began to enjoy the feeling of being held in his arms. She could see what hung on Christian’s gold chain from her new vantage point: a gold cross, similar to her own, but larger. It seemed strange to think that Christian had received his first communion at the same church where she had received hers. They’d murmured their confessions and received penances from the same man.
She wondered if Christian could read her thoughts when he leaned back slightly and asked, “Megan, are you really religious?”
She stared at him in surprise. “Why do you ask that?”
“Is that what this is about? You don’t want to sleep with me because of your religious beliefs?”
Megan inhaled her incredulity and tried to speak at the same time, causing her to choke. “I never said…no, Christian. I mean, my religion does mean a lot to me. But that’s not why… I mean… I’m not a prude.”
She stopped and tried to compose herself, taking a deep breath. “We hardly know each other.”
His grin was devilish. “And I guess you don’t believe in getting to know each other at the same time that we’re having sex, huh?”
Megan shook her head calmly enough, but inside, she felt like she was sinking. How could she make him understand without making a complete fool of herself? “Christian, you and I…we’re very different.”
His facial features tensed. “Wait…is that a blow-off line?”
She met his gaze earnestly. “No. It’s not. I just don’t think that—“
“What?” His grin disappeared, leaving his usual expression—hot eyes in an otherwise cold mask.
“We’re not alike.”
He moved back fractionally in their embrace. It wasn’t a large movement, but Megan felt that small withdrawal deeply.
“What do you mean by that? How would you know whether or not we’re alike? Do you think you know something about me that you haven’t mentioned?”
Megan stared in disbelief at his tone of stark suspicion. Irritation entered her awareness. “Of course not. Give me a little credit for being able to judge character. Just the fact that you even considered that we would sleep together when I just met you yesterday says a lot. It never even entered my mind to—”
“Don’t lie, Megan. It’ll be just one more sin you have to confess,” Christian said softly. He turned and picked up his jacket from where he’d draped it across the back of a chair. “I may not be as morally upright as you, but I know when a woman is turned on and when she’s not. And you were about sixty seconds and a few well-placed strokes away from exploding.”
Her world seemed to swell and shimmer. He glanced at her and muttered an expletive. He started toward her, his hand outstretched as if to touch her, but seemed to think better of it. He raked his fingers through his hair instead
.
“Christ. I’m sorry. Look, I’m an ass. I didn’t expect you to sleep with me. I mean, I did, in all honesty, but not here, not now…” He took in her expression and seemed to realize he was digging himself a deeper hole. He rolled his eyes upward and his mouth drew into a hard line.
Megan stood as if rooted to the spot when he walked past her and headed for the door. He hesitated for a second, his back to her.
“It was that thing you said about us being different that set me off,” he muttered.
The silence seemingly lasted forever, but it paradoxically didn’t last the length of her indrawn breath.
The door clicked softly shut behind him.
Chapter 3
Megan smoothed out the final touches of a clay sculpture with a metal kidney tool. Her absorption was so complete that she only became aware that someone was calling her name by degrees. Reluctantly, she transferred her awareness to the source of the voice. She regretted having to break her deep concentration. Not only was her trance-like focus good for her work, it served as an escape from her troublesome thoughts as of late.
“Hi, Randy. I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come up.”
Megan didn’t feel too guilty about being so distracted because Randy Rosenfeld was equally as preoccupied as he studied her latest piece. As usual she tensed with uneasiness as she watched him make a close inspection of her work. She was always self-conscious about having others view her art, but having someone look at this piece made her feel even more prickly with anxiety than usual.
Randy was one of two owners of the Rosenfeld & Epner gallery and the studio where she taught sculpting three times per week. Earth was the shorthand name for the classroom studio, named Earth, Fire, Air, Water, Spirit. Megan thought the alchemical name was especially appropriate for the art of sculpting, since the medium utilized all of those things. But sculpting wasn’t the only class that was taught at Earth. Two other artists, including her good friend Tina, offered classes in drawing and metal sculpture. The artist instructors also had the added advantage of private studio space in which they could concentrate on their own work.
The big bonus for Megan was that Randy and Nancy Epner let her use their kiln and furnace, both for her personal work and for the classes. Earth had been successful, mostly due to the large population influx to the near-west side, a mixture of empty nesters who wanted to live in the vibrant downtown area during their retirement and young professionals who desired the convenience of living close to their Loop workplaces.