“The cold was a bear, don’t misunderstand me,” Grey continued. “But the real reason I was feeling so crummy had to do with you.”
“Me?” This came out sounding much like a squeaky door badly in need of oiling. “I’m sure you’re mistaken.”
“Yes. You, Meghan Katherine O’Day. Plotting so I’d see you making a snowman with your arms wrapped around another man. I’ll have you know you nearly had me convinced.”
He was so close that all she had to do was look up from her perch on the arm of the chair and meet his gaze, but she was afraid he would read the truth in her eyes if she did. She had carefully planned that scene and was shocked that he’d figured it out.
He advanced a step.
Meghan swallowed and, losing her balance, slid backward. A soft gasp escaped her lips as her posterior slithered over the material. She was abruptly halted when her back slammed against the opposite arm of the chair. It was a minor miracle that the coffee didn’t end up spilling down her front.
“Are you all right?” Grey asked, clearly alarmed.
It took Meghan a couple seconds to gather her scattered wits. “I’m fine.”
Although she made a valiant effort, she couldn’t right herself in the chair. Grey pried the coffee cup out of her fingers, and once her hands were freed, she used them for leverage, twisting around so she could sit upright. She did so with all the pomp and ceremony her inebriated condition would allow.
“There,” she announced, as if she’d accomplished a feat of Olympic proportions. She brushed her palms together several times, feeling utterly pleased with herself. “Now, what was it you were saying?”
Grey was quiet for so long that she dared to chance a look in his direction. She found him pacing the small area in front of her chair much like a caged animal. He stopped and turned to look at her, then threaded his fingers through his hair in what she thought looked like an outburst of indecision.
“I don’t know if this is the best time for this conversation or not,” he admitted dryly.
“It’s probably not.” Meghan was more than willing to delay a confrontation. Her head was spinning, and she was sure it wasn’t the wine this time but the fact that Grey was so close to her. He’d always had this dizzying effect on her. “You shouldn’t even try to talk to me now. You probably haven’t noticed, but I happen to be … a little tipsy.”
“A little!” he shouted. “You’re plastered out of your mind.”
“That’s not entirely true,” she protested, just as vehemently. “And if I am, it’s all your fault.”
“Mine? Where did you come up with that crazy notion?”
That was the last thing Meghan planned to reveal to him. She tilted her head at a regal angle, then pinched her lips together. With a dignified air, she pantomimed locking her mouth closed and stuffing the imaginary key into the front of her bra. Once she’d finished, she realized how silly this must have looked and decided that if she was ever going to gather her moonstruck wits about her, the time was now.
Her actions seemed to frustrate Grey all the more, and Meghan began to experience a sense of power. She, a lowly waitress, had managed to flap the unflappable Professor Greyson Carlyle.
“All I want to know,” he asked with stark impatience, “is why? And then I’ll be out of here.”
“Why what?”
“Why did you go to Pamela Riverside’s office?”
Meghan’s head shot up. “She told you?” That much was obvious. Good grief, the woman was said to have a genius IQ, yet she was displaying all the intelligence of a piece of mold. “That’s the last thing in the world she should have done.”
“Pamela claims you insulted her and threatened her and demanded that she lie to me. Is that right?”
Meghan crossed her legs, then cupped her hands over her knees, praying her look was sophisticated and suave but knowing it wasn’t. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose she’s right.” If it were in her power now, Meghan would like to have another serious discussion with Grey’s associate. It was all too obvious that what the woman lacked in clothes sense she also lacked in common sense. The last thing she should have done was confront Grey and tell him about their tête-à-tête.
“Threatening someone else doesn’t sound anything like the warm, generous woman I know.”
“Maybe you don’t know me so well, after all,” Meghan muttered.
“After tonight, I’m beginning to believe that myself.”
“Then maybe you should just leave … because as you so kindly pointed out, I’m plastered.”
“Maybe I should, but I’m not going to—not until I find out why you’d even approach Pamela … especially when I’ve gone out of my way to let you know I feel nothing for her.”
“She’s in love with you.”
“She doesn’t know the meaning of the word.”
“That’s not true,” Meghan cried, defending the other woman and ignoring the woozy rushes of dizziness that enveloped her. Grey had misjudged Pamela Riverside, and Meghan could understand the other woman’s frustration. She remembered all too well how vulnerable his colleague had looked the night Meghan had met her at the cocktail party. Pamela had seen Meghan with Grey and had been devastated. His colleague might have her faults, but she was still a woman and as hungry for love and acceptance as any other female. Strangely, for all her brilliance, Dr. Riverside was shockingly naïve when it came to men and the male-female relationship.
“Pamela Riverside possesses all the warmth of a deep freeze,” Grey continued, his patience clearly tested. “You can argue with me all you want, but I’m not leaving here until you tell me the reason you found it so necessary to go to her office.”
“Because.” Her voice was so soft and small. She was certain Grey hadn’t been able to hear her, so she repeated herself. “Because.” It came out more firmly, but unfortunately it made absolutely no sense.
Grey knelt down in front of her and braced his hands on the overstuffed arms of the chair. “Because? That doesn’t tell me much.”
“She’s perfect for you,” Meghan pronounced, not daring to look at him. Although she’d tried several times to push the pain-inducing thought from her mind, Meghan kept imagining what Grey and Pamela’s children would look like. All she could envision were dark-haired boys with horn-rimmed glasses and blue-eyed little girls in two-piece business suits and black tie-up shoes.
“Pamela’s perfect for me,” Grey repeated, and shook his head as if the mere thought brought with it a discordant note. “Honestly, Meghan, if I didn’t love you so much, that could be considered an insult.”
“An insult!” She’d made the biggest sacrifice of her life for him, and now Grey was calmly telling her that she’d affronted him by gallantly relinquishing him to the woman who was far better suited to his lifestyle. The unfairness of it all came crashing down on her like a ton of concrete. “I can’t believe you’d say that to me. I was so unselfish, so noble and—” She stopped and jerked her head up. “What was it you just said? The first part, about … loving me?”
Grey’s face was so close to her own that his features had blurred. Then Meghan realized that it was the tears in her eyes that had distorted his visage. Sniffling, she rubbed a hand down her face. His words sobered her faster than ten cups of strong black coffee.
“I love you, Meghan O’Day.”
“But how can you …? Oh Grey!” She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his while struggling not to cry. “You can’t love me, you just can’t.”
“But I do. And I have no intention of ever loving anyone else as long as I live.”
From somewhere deep inside, Meghan found the strength to break away from him. She stiffened her shoulders and rubbed her cheeks dry of any moisture. Her heart felt like a thundering herd of horses galloping inside her chest. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”
“You love me, too,” he stated evenly. “So banish the thought of coming up with a bunch of lies to convince me otherwise. I’ll
refuse to believe you, anyway.”
Meghan blinked several times, her lashes dampening the high arches of her cheeks. She reached out and lovingly traced her fingers down the side of his face. “I don’t think I could lie, even if I tried,” she whispered. “Oh Grey, how could we have let this happen?”
He brushed the wisps of hair away from her cheekbones, and his thumbs lingered there as though he couldn’t keep from touching her. “You make it sound as if our falling in love were some great tragedy. From the moment I met you, my life has been better. You’re laughter and love and warmth and excitement. I’ll always be grateful to have found you.”
“But your mother …”
“You won’t be spending the rest of your life with her. I’m the one you’re going to be marrying.”
“What?” Meghan was convinced she’d misunderstood him. “Who said anything about getting married?” The thought was so baffling to her that she jumped up on the cushion of the chair and pointed an accusing finger at him, waving it several times. “You’ve lost your mind, Greyson Carlyle.”
“Okay, we’ll live in sin. But to be honest, that may put my career in jeopardy. Dr. Browning lives by a high moral standard, and, frankly, he’s not going to approve.”
“I can’t marry you.” She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but her heart was pounding faster and faster until it felt like a timed device ready to explode within her breast.
“Meghan,” Grey murmured, rising to his feet. “Would you kindly climb down off that chair?”
“I … don’t think I should. What would be better is if you left, and then maybe I could think clearly and we could forget you ever suggested … what you just did.” She couldn’t even say the word.
“Don’t be silly. Now, come down from there before you fall.” He held out his hand to assist her, but she pretended not to see it.
“Meghan,” he cried, clearly exasperated.
“If I step down, you’re going to kiss me.”
“I’ll admit the thought has crossed my mind,” he said with a devilish smile.
“And if you do, it’ll weaken my defenses.”
“As it should.”
It took both her hands to brush the hair off her forehead. “I can’t let that happen. In fact, I think you should leave—you’ve got me at a distinct disadvantage here. I’m dizzy and weak, and everything you’re saying is making me dizzier and weaker.”
“I love you.”
“See what I mean,” she persisted. She slumped back down in the chair, bracing her heel against the edge of the cushion and resting her chin on her bent knees. To her way of thinking—which she had to admit was unclear at the moment—she could hurt Grey’s career if they were to marry. “I’m a waitress,” she whispered. “Have you forgotten?”
“No, love, I haven’t. Are you ashamed of it?”
“No!”
He knelt down in front of her and grinned. His smile carried with it all the warmth of a July sun. “My feelings wouldn’t change if you mopped floors for a living. You’re honest and proud, and I’m crazy in love with you. I’d consider myself the most fortunate man in the world if you’d honor me by being my wife.”
All the resistance seeped out of her like air whooshing out of a balloon. She was crazy in love with him herself, and had been for weeks. He studied her for a long moment, and her reluctant gaze met his. It didn’t take long for her to recognize that everything he said was true. He did love and want her, and she would be a fool to even consider turning him away. A smile courted the corners of her mouth even as a tear ran down the side of her face.
Grey reached out and brushed her cheekbone with his cool fingertips. The moment was so tender, so sweet that Meghan squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to savor these marvelous feelings.
Grey was right—she wouldn’t be marrying his mother. It would take time and patience, but eventually Frances Carlyle would come to accept her. Meghan couldn’t allow their lives to be dictated by someone else. Her mind clouded with fresh objections, but her heart quickly overrode them, guiding her to where she belonged and where she wanted to be—in Grey’s arms.
She reached out to him, looping her arms around his neck. He heaved a sigh of relief and crushed her against him, holding her as though he’d snapped her out of the jaws of death.
“Meghan, my love, you’ve led me on a merry chase.”
She wanted to tell him so many things, but she was kept speechless as he rained countless kisses on her face—moist darts of pleasure on her flushed features, some burning against her eyelids and others scorching the pulse points in her neck.
“You are going to marry me, aren’t you?” he asked after a long moment, still kissing her.
“Yes. Oh Grey, I love you so much.”
Grey moaned and returned his mouth to hers, tantalizing her with a series of soft kisses that quickly turned to intense ones that sent her pulse soaring and left her temples thundering. She tangled her fingers in his hair and arched her body against his.
He kissed her so many times, Meghan felt spineless in his arms. When he buried his face in the soft slope of her neck, they were both trembling.
“I’m not going to let you change your mind,” he said on a husky note.
“I have no intention of doing so,” she assured him.
Grey paused and reached inside the pocket of his tweed jacket and brought out a jeweler’s box. When he lifted the lid, Meghan gasped at the size of the diamond resting between the folds of black velvet.
He removed the ring, reached for her hand, and, gazing into her tear-rimmed eyes, he slipped it onto her finger.
With that simple action, the waitress became forever linked with the professor.
Epilogue
“Meghan,” Grey called up the stairs from the living room, “hurry or we’re going to be late. We should have left five minutes ago.”
Squirting on some cologne, Meghan rushed into the bedroom and searched frantically for her dress heels. Grey’s side of the room was meticulously organized, while hers was a disaster area. She could hear him moving up the steps to find out what was taking her so long. Angry with herself for not knowing where her shoes had disappeared, she got down on her knees and tossed whatever was on the floor onto the top of the bed.
“Meghan, we’re going to be late,” Grey said a second time, standing in the doorway. Their nine-month-old son, Kramer, squirmed in his arms, wanting down so he could crawl to Mommy and play her silly game.
“I can’t find my white boots,” Meghan cried, lifting up the bedspread and peeking underneath.
“Honey, you shouldn’t be crawling around down there in your condition,” Grey muttered, lowering Kramer to the carpet. Soon all three were on the floor looking for Meghan’s shoes.
“I’ll have you know you’re responsible for my condition,” Meghan teased, her gaze locking with his.
“I know.” Grey’s look caressed her, and his hand moved around her waist to pat the gentle swelling of her abdomen. “I worry about you having the two so close.”
“It’s the way I wanted it,” she reminded him. Still kneeling, she turned and looped her arms around his neck and playfully kissed him, darting her tongue in and out of his mouth in a familiar game of cat and mouse, letting her kisses tell him how much she loved and desired him.
“I think we should have waited. Irish twins—I still can’t believe it. Kramer born in January and this baby due in December.” His hand rested against the sides of her stomach, caressing her there.
Making gurgling noises, Kramer agilely crept between his parents, his headful of bright red curls leading the way. Once he’d maneuvered himself into position, he stood upright, looking around. He hurled his small body against Meghan, laughing as though to tell her he’d won their game. From the moment he was born, he’d been a sweet, happy baby.
“Oh Kramer,” Meghan exclaimed, swinging him into her arms. “You’re going to be walking soon, you little rascal.”
Kramer squealed wi
th delight as she raised him above her head.
“That’s just what we need,” Grey said, frowning a little.
“What?” she asked, busily keeping her son’s eager hands out of her hair.
“Kramer walking at ten months. My mother already believes he’s a genius, and if he starts walking that early, it will only prove as much in her eyes.”
“She surprised me,” Meghan admitted thoughtfully. Her mother-in-law had delivered several surprises over the past year, all of them pleasant ones.
“Surprised you?” he returned with a short laugh. “You could have bowled me over with a dirty diaper when I realized she was going to be the doting-grandmother type. When Kramer was born, I thought she was going to buy out the toy store.”
“Dirty diapers do bowl you over,” she reminded him, smiling.
He shrugged. “That was just a manner of speech.”
“Your mother loves Kramer.”
“And you,” he said. “She told me not so long ago how you’ve become much more than a daughter-in-law to her.” He paused and rubbed the side of his face. “To hear her tell it, she was the one responsible for getting us together.”
“I suppose she’s right. Only she used reverse psychology.”
“She absolutely insists you get your degree.”
“I will, in time—so she needn’t worry. But for now, I’m more concerned with raising my family. I’ve got a year in already and will take more classes when I can.”
Grey’s eyes brightened and he quickly crawled across the floor, holding up a pair of white high-heeled boots that were partially hidden behind the dresser. “Here they are.”
Kramer crawled after his father, his little knees moving at top speed.
Meghan quickly rose to her feet, slipped on the white shoes, and reached down for her son. “This’ll be your first wedding, son, so behave,” Meghan told him, nuzzling his neck playfully.
“I think it was nice of Pamela to request that we bring Kramer along this afternoon,” Grey said.
“He stole her heart, right along with your mother’s,” Meghan pointed out. “She wouldn’t think of excluding him on this important day.”