She smiled—the first genuine one in weeks. She should have known Grey would prefer custard over pecan. “Yes. I’ll bring you a piece of pie and tea,” she said, knowing he favored tea over coffee.
“Thank you.”
While Meghan was slicing the custard pie, Sherry strolled past her and remarked, “Well, my friend, from the looks of things, the temperature in hell is several degrees cooler.” She moved on past, chortling as she went.
***
The last fifteen minutes of Meghan’s shift seemed to drag by. Sherry let her go a few minutes early, and Meghan changed out of her uniform in record time.
Grey was waiting for her in the parking lot. “Do you want to talk at your apartment, or would you prefer coming to my place?”
“Yours,” Meghan replied automatically.
For some reason, Meghan had assumed Grey lived in an apartment near the university, but she was wrong. She followed him to a house, a very nice two-story brick one with a sharply inclined roof and two gables.
She walked in the front door, doing her best not to ogle. The interior was decorated in a combination of leather and polished wood. As his office had been, the walls of his living room were lined with shelf upon shelf of obviously well-read books.
“Go ahead and make yourself comfortable,” he said, taking her coat from her and hanging it in the entryway closet. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Please.” She followed him into the kitchen, where all the appliances were black and the sink was made of stainless steel. Everything was in perfect order, reminding Meghan that her own kitchen looked like something out of the Star Wars movie. Her stomach rumbled, and she placed a hand over her abdomen, silently commanding it to be quiet.
“You’re hungry. Didn’t you have dinner?”
She shrugged. “Actually, I wasn’t in the mood for anything tonight.” She’d been too depressed and miserable to think about anything as mundane as eating.
“Can I fix you a sandwich?”
“No thanks,” she returned, although the mere mention of food was enough to make her mouth salivate. Now that she had time to think about it, she was famished.
Grey pulled out a white cushioned stool with a wicker back for her to sit on while he busied himself with the coffee. He seemed to be composing his thoughts as he filled the coffee machine with water.
“I saw you in The Hub,” he said, as he opened the cupboard and took out two coffee cups. The dark liquid had just started to leak into the glass pot.
“When?” She’d been there only a handful of times.
His back was to her. “The day you registered for classes.”
He seemed to place some importance on that fact that Meghan didn’t seem to understand. “Yes, I was there.”
“Making new friends?” he coaxed.
“Yes. That was the day I met Eric Vogel and the others in the reading group.”
“I see.”
“What do you see?” Meghan pressed. He was using those same words again and in that identical tone of voice that she’d come to dread.
He turned around, his face as tight and constrained as his voice. “You and those other students looked right together.”
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
He gripped the edge of the counter behind him. “No, I don’t suppose you do.” He studied the polished black-and-white-checkered linoleum floor. “A whole new world is about to open up for you, Meghan,” he said, smiling wryly. “You’ve devoted yourself to your family and your job since the time you finished high school. As soon as you start at the university, you’re going to meet lots of new friends.”
“Yes, I suppose I will.” She still had no idea what he was getting at.
“What I’m trying to tell you, and apparently doing a poor job of it, is that you could have any man you wanted.”
Meghan was so shocked that for a minute she didn’t speak. “Grey, honestly, you seem to have overestimated my charms.” She couldn’t very well announce that the only man who interested her was him! “And even if what you’re saying is true, and it isn’t, what has it got to do with you and me?”
“Everything.” He looked surprised that she would even raise the question.
Meghan couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her stomach gurgled again, and she pressed her hand harder against her midriff. “Let me see if I understand your reasoning—”
“There’s nothing to understand. I don’t want to stand in your way.”
“Stand in my way?” she echoed, and jumped off the stool. Her stomach was churning and growling again, making her all the more unreasonable. “Oh … just be quiet,” she cried.
Grey looked positively shocked.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Is there someone else here I don’t see?”
“My stomach won’t stop making noise.”
“Good grief, Meghan, why didn’t you accept the sandwich I offered?”
“Because I’m too furious with you!” She was pacing now, lost in a free fall of thoughts and emotions.
“I’ll make you something to eat and you’ll feel better,” he suggested calmly.
“Stand in my way of what?” she pressed, ignoring his offer of food.
“Of finding someone special like Eric or any one of the others. I noticed how interested in you they all seemed to be. Frankly, I couldn’t blame them. You’re warm and witty, and—”
“Miserable.”
“I know you’re hungry,” he persisted, opening his refrigerator. “I’ll have a sandwich ready for you any minute.” Already he was gathering the fixings on the kitchen counter.
“I don’t want a sandwich,” she told him, clenching and unclenching her hands at her sides.
“Soup, then?”
“You might have asked me how I felt before making that kind of decision. What gives you the right to decide who I should and shouldn’t see? Don’t you think it would have been better to discuss this with me first? I’ve been miserable, Grey, and all because you thought Eric and I looked good together. By the way, Eric’s fiancée may think differently about that.”
He stopped and turned to face her, a frown creasing his brow. “I have the distinct feeling we’re discussing two entirely different subjects here. I thought we were discussing making a sandwich.”
“A sandwich? We’re talking about my life!”
“Oh.” He looked both flustered and uneasy.
“Are you really so insensitive?”
“Actually,” he said, boldly meeting her gaze, “insecure would be a more appropriate word. I didn’t realize you’d been hurt by this until today when you came to my office. Frankly, I was more than a little surprised. I assumed you’d start dating any one of the others and quickly forget me.”
“Both insensitive and insecure, then,” she whispered.
A hush followed her statement. Meghan watched, standing as stiff as a new recruit in front of a drill sergeant, waiting. Her chin was elevated to a haughty angle.
Grey had revealed no faith in her or the attraction she felt for him—none. He’d seen her as a flighty teenager easily swayed by the charms and attention of another.
“Will an apology suffice?” he asked after an elongated moment, meeting her look.
“An apology and a sandwich would be an excellent start. Anything beyond that will need to be negotiated separately.”
***
“Meghan, there’s no need for you to be so nervous,” Grey said, as he pulled his car into a parking space outside Dr. Browning’s home.
Grey had insisted she attend this party with him at the elegant home of the president of Friends University. Meghan had hoped that Grey would introduce her to his friends gradually, but he claimed this would be much easier. Easier for him, perhaps, but exceptionally hard on her nerves.
“What, me worried?” she joked, doing her best to disguise her nervousness. Grey may have insisted she attend this party with him, but she doubted he would include her in a
nother. Her heart was in her throat, and she hadn’t said more than a dozen words to him from the minute he’d picked her up at the apartment. During the half-hour drive to Dr. Browning’s home, it was all Meghan could do to keep from wringing her hands.
“You’re as pale as a sheet.” He reached for her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “Everyone’s going to love you, so stop worrying.”
“Right,” she said, forcing some eagerness into her voice. She’d never dreaded a party more. In the beginning, she’d been pleased and excited that Grey had asked her to accompany him; it had meant so much at the time. But now Meghan would have done just about anything to come up with a plausible excuse to get out of this formal gathering. Her mind kept repeating the line about fools rushing in where angels fear to tread.
Grey came around to her side of the car and opened the passenger door.
Meghan tightened her fingers around her small evening bag and sucked in her breath. “Grey, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I feel a terrible headache coming on … Maybe it would be best if you drove me home.”
“Nonsense. I’ll ask Joan to get you an aspirin.”
An over-the-counter drug wasn’t going to help her, but arguing with him wouldn’t do any good, either.
“You’re sure about this?” She felt she had to ask him that and give him the opportunity to back out gracefully before she said or did anything that would embarrass them both.
“Positive,” he returned confidently.
Meghan’s fingers felt like blocks of ice. The chill extended up her arms and seemed to center someplace between her belly and her heart.
“Before we go inside, would you do something for me?” she asked hurriedly.
“You mean other than take you home?” he chided gently, smiling at her.
“Yes.”
“Anything, Meghan. What do you need?”
She was sitting sideways in the car, half in and half out, wondering if she’d lost her mind.
“Meghan?”
“I … I don’t know what I want,” she whispered.
“You’re cold?”
She nodded so hard, she feared she would ruin her hair, and she’d spent hours carefully weaving every strand into place to make an elaborate French braid. It seemed exactly the way she should style it for this evening, although she rarely wore her shoulder-length curls any way except loose.
“I think I know what you need,” he said, and looked over his shoulder before leaning forward slightly and planting his hands on her shoulders.
Meghan blinked her eyes a couple times, wondering at this game, when Grey lowered his mouth to hers in a soft, gentle kiss that spoke of solace more than passion. Then he pressed his lips to hers again in the briefest of contacts.
Meghan sighed and braced her hands against his forearms, needing something to root herself in reality. Was this Grey holding her? The same man who would normally frown upon kissing where there was a chance of their being seen?
He kissed her a third time and then a fourth, as though a sample wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy him and he needed much, much more.
When he lifted his head, she could feel the color returning to her face and she was beginning to experience the faint stirrings of warmth seeping back into her blood.
“There. How do you feel now?”
“Almost kissed.”
He frowned slightly. “I suppose that was unfair, but I couldn’t think of any other way to get some rosiness back into your cheeks. You looked as if you were about to faint. Are you ready now?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
He discharged his breath and linked his fingers with hers. “Just be yourself, Meghan. There’s nothing to worry about. Try to enjoy tonight.”
“I know I will,” she murmured, although she knew that would be impossible.
Together, hand in hand, they strolled up to the large Colonial-style home of the university president.
Nearly immediately, Meghan realized her fears were mostly unfounded. The first people she met were President Browning and his wife, Joan. From the moment she was introduced to her, Meghan liked Joan Browning, who was warm and personable—gracious to the marrow of her bones.
“Greyson’s mentioned you several times,” Joan stated while the two men engaged in brief conversation. “Both John and I have been looking forward to meeting you for weeks.”
Meghan did a good job of disguising her surprise. “Thank you for including me.”
“Nonsense. Thank you for coming.”
They moved into the house and Grey slipped his arm around Meghan’s waist. “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“No,” she had to agree. Surprisingly, it had been rather painless. She liked Joan Browning, who had gone out of her way to make sure that Meghan felt comfortable and welcome.
“Are you ready to meet a few of the others?” Grey asked.
“Not until I’ve had some champagne,” she said lightly, knowing the alcohol would help her relax. One glass was her limit, but she knew some of her nervousness would disappear with that.
Obligingly, Grey fetched them each a glassful of champagne, leaving Meghan for a few short moments. He returned and smiled down at her with both warmth and humor.
“Have I told you how lovely you look tonight?”
“About four times, and I appreciated hearing it every time.”
He chuckled. “I feel fortunate to have you with me this evening.”
“I’m the one who should be saying that,” Meghan whispered, knowing all too well that she was the fortunate one. “Grey, who’s that woman sitting across the room from us?” she asked, when she couldn’t ignore the other woman any longer. “She’s been sending daggers my way from the moment we walked in. Do you know her?”
Meghan felt Grey tense. “Yes, well …” He paused and cleared his throat. “I’m sure you’re imagining things.”
“I’m not. Who is she?” Meghan prodded
“That’s Dr. Pamela Riverside.” He was clearly uneasy. He finished the last of his champagne in one swallow and set the tall, thin glass aside.
“I think it’s time you introduced us, don’t you?” Meghan asked, realizing that the champagne had given her the courage necessary to suggest such a thing.
“Frankly, no.”
Eight
“Hello, I’m Meghan O’Day,” Meghan said, greeting the woman with steel-blue eyes who’d been glaring at her for the past half hour. If Grey wasn’t going to make the introductions, then she would see to it herself. The minute Meghan had been free to do so, she’d slipped away from Grey, who’d been engaged in conversation.
“I’m Dr. Pamela Riverside,” the other woman said stiffly, holding on to her champagne glass as though she expected it to protect her against alien forces. “I … I’m a colleague of Dr. Carlyle’s.”
“I assumed that you were.”
“Greyson’s never mentioned me?” the other woman asked softly, lowering her gaze, looking vulnerable and desperately trying to hide it.
“Grey may have, but I don’t recall that he did,” Meghan said, after searching through her memory and drawing a blank as far as Dr. Riverside went. From his reaction earlier, Meghan was almost certain that Grey hadn’t said a word about his colleague. In fact, it seemed obvious that he was doing everything he could to keep the two of them apart.
“I didn’t think he had,” Pamela responded in a hurt voice that trembled just a little.
Meghan’s pulse started to accelerate at an alarming rate. The thoughts that flashed through her mind seared her conscience. If Dr. Riverside was shooting daggers in Meghan’s direction, then there was probably a very good reason. Perhaps Grey had jilted the other woman, and had left her with a battered and bleeding heart. The more Meghan studied the female professor, the more she realized she wore the look of a woman done wrong by her man. She was taller than Meghan by several inches, and thin to the point of being gaunt. Her dark hair was styled in a severe chignon that did little t
o soften the sharp contours of her cheeks. Without much effort, she could have been appealing and attractive, but her style of clothing was outdated and she didn’t even bother with lipstick or eye shadow.
“Actually, there isn’t any reason why Grey should have said anything about me,” Pamela continued, looking more miserable by the minute. “He’s never been anything but the perfect gentleman with me. If I were to tell you anything different, it would be a lie.”
“I don’t suppose he mentioned me, then, either,” Meghan muttered. Grey had always been “the perfect gentleman” with her, as well. Meghan doubted that he would ever be anything else.
“No, I can’t say that he did,” Pamela confirmed brusquely, looking pleased to be telling Meghan as much.
That didn’t help Meghan to feel any better. In fact, she felt downright discouraged. She wasn’t so naïve to believe there hadn’t been women in Grey’s past. He might even be involved with someone now, although she doubted it.
“Actually, there isn’t any reason he should tell you about me, either,” Meghan admitted with some reluctance.
The beginnings of a smile came over Pamela. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
“Wrong?” Meghan didn’t like the sound of this.
“He didn’t have to tell me anything about you. I knew almost from the first.”
Meghan wondered briefly exactly what it was the other woman knew. “I’m not sure I understand,” she said, wishing now that she hadn’t refused a second glass of champagne. This convoluted conversation wasn’t making much sense.
“By my calculations, I’d guess that you and Grey started going out the last part of October.”
Meghan nodded, confirming the other woman’s conjecture. She wasn’t sure how Pamela Riverside had known that and wasn’t convinced she even wanted to know. Meghan was about to ask another question when Grey casually strolled up and joined them.
“Pamela,” he said, as a means of greeting her, dipping his head slightly. He held himself as stiff as a freshly starched shirt collar, his hands buried deep in his pockets. “I can see you’ve met Meghan O’Day.”