“I like it here, too.” Cole spoke in a hearty tone, hoping Meg would pick up on it and play along. “My bed is so comfortable that it’s difficult for me to get up in the morning. In fact, right now I’m thinking about sinking into that soft mattress and taking a nap.”
“Naps are for babies,” Charlie asserted, though Cole could see the lines of fatigue around the boy’s eyes.
“No one ever told me that,” Meg said. “I take naps all the time.”
Cole pretended to yawn. “I think I’m going to stretch out on that big bed of mine and rest my eyes.”
“Maybe we could all rest our eyes for a few minutes?” Meg said.
“I’m all for it.” Cole forced an extra-hearty tone.
“I’ve an idea.” Charlie bounced up and down on the sofa. “We’ll all take a nap together on Uncle Cole’s bed. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Cole caught the look of startled surprise that skittered across Meg’s face. Because the light had returned to Charlie’s eyes, Cole shoved aside his own misgivings and grinned. “Great idea, son. What do you say, Meg? Care to join me in bed?”
Chapter Eight
Meg kept her arms firmly plastered to her side and tried to tell herself that lying on top of Cole Lassiter’s bed was no big deal.
After all, Charlie was between them and she had on all her clothes. Not to mention the California king went on forever. You could easily have five people on it and they’d never touch. Which was good because touching Cole was the last thing on Meg’s mind this afternoon.
She’d heard the challenge in his voice when he’d asked if she wanted to join him in bed. He’d been taunting her. Confident she’d turn him down. Which she wouldn’t have had trouble doing if it hadn’t been for Charlie and the pleading look in his eyes.
Talking about her and Cole going their separate ways and sharing custody had been an error in judgment. Charlie had lost his parents only weeks ago. To even mention more change to the boy at this time didn’t make any sense.
Cole realized it, too. She knew that’s why he’d started talking about naps. And why the three of them were now lying on his bed with the shades drawn.
Meg closed her eyes. She’d almost drifted off to sleep when Cole murmured something to her, something she couldn’t quite hear. Hoping he didn’t expect to have a conversation with Charlie already asleep between them, Meg pushed herself up on one elbow.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that his eyes were shut and his lips now silent. She hadn’t realized that he talked in his sleep. Of course, that was understandable considering they’d never spent the night together.
Even when they’d been sneaking around seeing each other, she hadn’t known all that much about him. Oh, she’d known that he loved animals and had a sense of humor in sync with her own. She knew he had a lot of friends and rarely said an unkind word about anyone. He’d even befriended Chip before championing the underdog was cool. Still, what made him tick had remained a mystery.
Other than the time he’d confided that he had difficulty reading, he’d shared very little personal information. The fact that he’d graduated from college and started his own successful business made her wonder if the confession had been merely a ploy to make her think he was sharing something of importance with her.
She’d believed him. Had worried about his reading difficulties. And, though Cole had sworn her to silence, she’d even sought the advice of her father—an English teacher at the local high school—on how to help someone who’d reached seventeen without being able to read well. Her father had asked who this person was, but all she’d told him was “a friend,” not wanting to betray Cole’s confidence.
It hadn’t mattered. Within days of his confession, in fact the day after he’d taken her innocence in the backseat of that old Chevy, he quit calling. When she saw him in school he walked by as if she didn’t exist.
Being young and foolish and convinced she was in love, she’d waited a couple of days before tossing aside her pride and calling him. She’d realized it was over when he didn’t call her back. Then her folks had died.
Her world had suddenly been turned upside down. She’d desperately needed someone to hold her close and tell her she would survive…and she’d still hoped that person would be Cole. But he hadn’t shown his face at either the visitation or the funeral. Considering all they’d shared, his absence had been a slap in the face.
She collapsed back against the pillow and closed her eyes, letting sleep steal her away from the memories she wished she could forget....
Meg told herself to wake up, but the dream was so compelling she couldn’t leave it, not yet. Cole had come to her.
With a contented sigh, she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. Her head fit perfectly against his chest, just under his chin. Having him so close was a dream come true.
She loved the way he smelled, a woodsy mixture of cologne and soap and maleness that brought a tingle to her lips and heat percolating low in her belly.
His hand flattened against her lower back, drawing her up against the length of his body. Meg pressed herself more fully against him, the action bringing back memories of when they’d made love.
The man now holding her in his arms had been the first to kiss her, to touch her, to make love to her. But once wasn’t enough.
She longed to once again run her hands over his body, to feel the coiled strength of skin and muscle sliding under her fingers. She wanted him to touch her in the same way, wanted to feel the weight of his body on hers. Wanted to feel him inside her.
She planted a kiss at the base of his neck, his skin salty beneath her lips.
“Are you sure this is wise?” The words seemed to come from far away.
Of all the times for her conscience to make an appearance. Even in a dream, participating in a fantasy wasn’t always wise. But she couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. Being in Cole’s arms felt so right.
She wound her arms around his neck and lifted her face.
He folded her more fully into his arms, anchoring her against his chest as his mouth covered hers in a deep, compelling kiss. Dreamily, Meg stroked his thick hair. He tasted as sweet as spearmint candy from The Coffee Pot.
His hand closed over one breast, cupping it high in his hand, circling the peak with his fingers. Meg inhaled sharply and, for a second, panicked. Until she remembered that this was a dream and there was no reason to deny herself anything.
If he’d noticed her momentary hesitation, he gave no indication. He continued to kiss her with a slow thoroughness that left her weak, trembling and longing for more. When his tongue swept across her lips, seeking access, she eagerly opened her mouth to him, pulling his body on top of hers, her tongue fencing with his.
The warmth in her lower belly turned fiery hot and became a pulsating need. There was only one problem. There were clothes between them. Thankfully she had a solution....
She slipped her hand between them, smiling when she encountered a hard bulge, closing her fingers over the strained zipper, anticipation coursing up her spine.
“Aunt Meg?”