“What do you mean?” Christian demanded. His head was throbbing and he didn’t have the patience to deal with Seth’s laconism.
“You need to decide how serious your feelings are for her. If you don’t care for her—really care—then Hilary is right. You should keep as far from her as possible. I’ll be the first to kick your sorry ass if you do any different. But if you really do care for her than you would be willing to allow Megan to decide.”
“But if something unexpected happened, a flashback, a traumatic memory—“
“Then you would be there to help her deal with it,” Seth replied with a pointed glance.
Christian took a slow, deep breath that cleared his head of some of the remaining whiskey fumes. He set the glass of ice on the bar resolutely.
“I think it’s time I went home,” he said gruffly. “You have a beautiful woman who’s been waiting for you for a very long time, and I need to get some sleep.”
Chapter 7
Megan pulled her hair into a ponytail and barely acknowledged the result in the mirror before she left the bathroom. She wore shorts and an exercise bra, but still needed a T-shirt before she went jogging. The one that she grabbed had been thrown heedlessly on the chair in her bedroom after she’d discarded it for another shirt yesterday. Her impatient motions as she whipped the soft cotton shirt over her head stilled abruptly. She pulled at the bottom of the shirt and held it up to her nose.
Christian Lasher’s scent filled her awareness. The unexpected sensation brought a surge of tears to her eyes. She sat down at the end of her bed and cried as a storm of grief raged through her. Her grief was for Christian—for the fact that he’d apparently lost interest in her—but only partly. The pain was also for everything that Christian had awakened in her, but left unfulfilled: the way he’d made her feel so alive and whole, the way he’d awoken the sensual being in her that had been repressed for so long.
The storm eventually passed.
God, did she miss Christian so much that she was beginning to smell him on her own clothing? Megan wondered as she dried her tears for what she swore was the last time. She was already dreaming about him incessantly. She woke up in the morning feeling like she’d just spent hours with him, only to have reality slap her in the face. Her thoughts depres
sed her so much that she briefly considered getting back into bed and pulling the covers over her head in order to cling to that insubstantial, fragile connection to Christian.
As tempting as the thought was, Megan endured and found her running shoes in the closet. All of her hard work on her sculpting and her emotional unrest regarding Christian had taken a toll on her muscles for the past few days. She was tense and sore, and knew that aside from a good masseuse—something she couldn’t afford right now—the only thing that would give her relief was exercise.
When she reached for the lobby doors forty minutes later, she knew she’d been right. Exercise was exactly what she’d needed. She felt calmer and a lot less tense.
At least she did until she saw Christian leaning casually against the doorman’s station, looking for all the world as if he’d been waiting for her to walk through the door.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Good morning,” Megan replied. Her eyes moved over to Jeff, who watched her expectantly.
“There she is. Told you she wouldn’t be long,” Jeff said.
“Were you looking for me?” Megan asked Christian with what she hoped sounded like crisp unconcern.
Even if her voice didn’t betray her, she knew her eyes must have. They roved over him as if they were starved for the sight. He must have just showered, because his hair was still damp around his neck. He was dressed uncharacteristically, but very attractively, in a pair of low-riding khakis and a blue button-down shirt that matched the brilliant color of the eyes that were currently watching her so intently.
“Yes,” Christian answered simply. “I was hoping to convince you to have breakfast with me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” he countered swiftly. “Jeff says it’s one of your off days at St. Cat’s.”
Megan’s gaze flashed to Jeff’s accusingly. Jeff seemed to find something fascinating to look at on his desk. “I haven’t even showered yet.”
“I’ll find a book to read and wait while you get ready,” Christian said as he reached for her shoulder and urged her toward the entrance door. Megan only acquiesced because she was too embarrassed to have this conversation in front of Jeff.
“We’ll still have plenty of time to make our reservation for brunch,” Christian assured her as he pressed the fifth floor on the elevator, all the while ignoring her irritated expression and defensive stance.
“Reservation?” Megan muttered in disbelief. “Weren’t you a little too confident that I’d go, Christian?”
“Was I?”
She just gave him a hard stare and marched off the elevator a moment later.
“I’m surprised you’re up so early this morning,” she said sarcastically as she followed him into her living room. She was a little surprised at the wary look in Christian’s eyes when he turned around.