Megan laughed. “How can you think about dinner already? I’m stuffed.”
“I wasn’t thinking about dinner. I was thinking about you.”
“Oh,” Megan replied, swallowing thickly.
He went on to explain that he’d called his mother, and that she’d invited them to come to dinner at the house in Evanston that evening.
“Will your sisters be there, too?” Megan wondered, eager to meet people who knew and loved Christian. She smiled when he nodded.
When they got home, he walked her to her door. She paused when he spoke.
“Megan?”
“Yes?”
“The only excursions I’ve been on late at night were working hard with my band practicing. We have a concert coming up soon. We took today off, because some of us were getting exhausted from the schedule.”
“I see,” Megan murmured, a little embarrassed at how she’d subtly accused him of more illicit nighttime activities.
“I thought of you every day. Every night,” Christian said with a penetrating blue-eyed stare before he caressed her cheek in parting.
Megan leaned against her front door and waited for her rapid heartbeat to still.
* * * *
When Megan came home from her studio at Earth later that afternoon, there was a message on her answering machine from Christian. He asked her if they could leave an hour earlier than the time they’d agreed upon, because his mother had asked him to bring along Seth, and Seth wanted Sarah to come, too.
“So that means we’re going to swing by and pick up Seth at the Four Seasons and then Sarah at Emilio’s house before we hit Mom and Dad’s,” Christian explained on the answering machine.
Megan’s gaze raced to the clock in her kitchen, realizing that she’d have to hurry to make it on time. She was happy that Seth and Sarah were going. She’d enjoyed the couple’s company the other night at Emilio’s.
She showered and let her air dry naturally into soft curls while she worked a moisturizer deeply into her skin. Christian had told her to dress casually for dinner, so she donned a pair of jeans and a yellow top that complimented her hair, eyes, and figure, and which felt sensually soft next to her skin. She applied her make-up sparingly, needing little tonight due to the glow in her cheeks and the added shine in her light green eyes. She needn’t
have worried about being late, though, because she was completely ready when Christian knocked at five o’clock.
“Hi, sunshine,” Christian greeted with a small smile after taking in her appearance appreciatively. He reached up and rubbed a curl between his fingers in what was becoming a familiar gesture. Megan smiled, taking in his casual, sexy jeans and untucked white T-shirt, this time with a logo that merely read Purple.
“What’s so funny?” Christian asked as they took the elevator down to the garage.
“Your T-shirts. I keep meaning to ask you what they mean, but I never get around to it.”
He glanced down in surprise, not even remembering what he’d pulled on after he’d showered. “Oh. Purple is this really cool art periodical that gets published in Paris. It’s got all the latest trends in painting, music, sculpture, and writing. About a year ago, I discovered that they even have a little store with some great stuff in it from up and coming Parisian artists. You’d really like it,” Christian said as he opened the passenger door for her.
“You mean all of your T-shirts are names of places you’ve been?” Megan asked a few minutes later as they drove out of the parking garage.
“Some of them, I guess,” Christian said as he expertly maneuvered his car up the garage ramp. He drove a sleek sedan, a luxurious car that strangely suited him perfectly.
Seth was supposed to meet them at the valet park on Walton Street. When he wasn’t there, the valet service eventually shooed them off. Christian called Seth’s cell phone and left a message that they would meet him in the lobby of the Four Seasons. Seth wasn’t there either, though, so Christian said they should just go up to his suite. Megan thought she heard Christian mumble under his breath. “Probably out cold. Doubt he slept a wink last night.”
“What about the one that said Heaven’s Gate?” Megan wondered idly when they got on the elevator.
His brow crinkled in consternation until he recalled her comment about his T-shirts. “Heaven’s Gate? Oh, I got that shirt at some cheesy tourist shop in L.A. I don’t know what it referred to exactly, but it got my imagination going. I mean it would be different for everyone, wouldn’t it?”
“What?” Megan wondered, confused by his meaning. They got off the elevator and she followed Christian down the hallway to the end penthouse suite.
“The gateway to heaven,” he said with a shrug. “It would be different in everyone’s mind. For one person, it might be a place, for another person, it might be an experience, and for another, it might be another person. Heaven’s Gate—sort of like, whatever the initiatory experience would be to get entrance to your own personal nirvana.”
Megan was watching him thoughtfully when he glanced over at her and grinned. Her heart squeezed in her chest.