Crossing the Line (6 page)

Something clenched in his chest. “No. I’m . . .” He cleared his throat. “I’m good.”

“Okay. See ya in a few hours.” She smiled at him as she skipped through the doorway, and bounded up the stairs. 

Alone, Paul placed his hands on the counter, and looked out the window overlooking the sink into the backyard. He’d been granted a few hours, and he needed to use them wisely. He ran over the events of last night in his mind once more. But like before, everything went blank before Megan’s appearance in his room. 

He heard her come back downstairs, and shortly after that, the front door opened and closed. The sound brought to mind earlier that morning when he’d peeked into her room to check on her—of her lying in bed—and again he felt those same stirrings in his groin.

Where was this coming from, and why now? Megan had lived with them for months, and not once had he reacted this way. Sure, she dressed a little sexy sometimes, and of course he noticed. How could he not? But she was twenty-three and single. Wasn’t that what twenty-three-year-olds did?

Paul rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and sighed. He had to stop thinking about it. Later, after Chloe went to bed, he’d talk to Megan. Maybe, after he got some answers, the strange reaction his body was having would go away. 

Needing a distraction, Paul finished cleaning up and made his way upstairs to find Chloe. She was in her room, playing with her dolls. 

He knocked on her door, and she looked up. “Mind if I join you?”

Chloe seemed to consider his offer for a second, and then picked up one of her dolls, handing it to him. “You can be Ken.”

So for the next few hours, Paul sat up in Chloe’s room playing dolls with her and having a tea party, all the while trying not to think about a certain conversation he needed to have with her nanny.

Chapter 5

Megan ran her hand along the rack of clothes until her fingers brushed against something she liked. Removing it from the rack so that she could get a better look, she held it against herself, and smiled. She’d long finished gathering the personal care items she needed. This wasn’t about need at all. This was about want. 

On the long drive back to Indianapolis, Megan had done a lot of thinking—both about the previous night and that morning. Paul wanted her. At least, on some level he did. She was convinced of that. He’d said her name. He’d known it was her. Not his dead wife. 

Plus, that morning at breakfast—that look he gave her—when he saw Trent whispering in her ear. Had he remembered something? The vibe coming off him had been one of annoyance. It wasn’t as if Trent had never flirted with her before. Usually, he laughed it off the same as she did. Trent was only being Trent. Something had changed. At least, she hoped it had.

With all the thinking she’d done, Megan decided to play to her strengths. Maybe the mature thing would be to sit down and talk to him about what happened, but she was afraid Paul would try to dismiss it. Megan couldn’t take that. 

During the four months Megan had known him, she’d never seen him go out on a date—never seen him take interest in any woman. From what she gathered from little things he and his family said, Paul didn’t date. At all. 

Of course, Megan didn’t know if that extended to booty calls or not, but she had a feeling it did. Paul didn’t strike her as a one-night-stand kind of guy, which was another reason she thought what happened in the hotel might mean more than just him scratching an itch. 

Tossing the pajamas over her arm, Megan rifled through the racks until she found two more sets of cute pajamas that she liked, before checking out. If Paul found her attractive, she was going to use that to her advantage. A girl had to try, right?

It was dark by the time she got home. She smiled when she saw that Paul had left the kitchen light on for her. It was amazing how little things like that could make her feel warm inside. No one but Rebecca had ever cared enough about her to leave the light on. Not even her parents.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she could hear voices coming from the second floor, and realized that Paul must be giving Chloe her bath. The little girl was becoming more and more independent and she wanted to bathe herself, but Paul insisted she was still too young to be left alone. As a compromise, after running the bath water to the correct temperature, Paul would sit on top of the toilet seat and read a magazine while Chloe had her bath. Megan was waiting for the day when Chloe would cease to allow that much from her father. She was growing up. It was only a matter of time before she became fully aware of the differences between boys and girls. 

With extra care, Megan tiptoed up the stairs so she didn’t disturb them. She should have known better than to think she could pass by the bathroom undetected. Paul glanced up, and Megan paused, waiting. For what, she didn’t know. Their gazes held, and his forehead furrowed in concentration. 

Her heart began to pound. Did he remember?

Chloe squealed, breaking their connection. He averted his gaze back to his daughter, and Megan took the opportunity to make her escape. 

Once inside her room, Megan closed and locked the door. She rushed over to her bed and dumped out the contents of her bags. Putting everything away except for the three new pajamas, she considered her options. 

The first one had a cute little T-shirt type of top and boxer short bottoms. They were blue with bunny rabbits all over them. She remembered the way Paul went right for her legs, which was why she’d gone for all shorts-type selections. 

Her second pajama set was more grown-up looking than she normally went for, but she wanted to be prepared for anything. Megan had no idea what Paul liked. It was lavender and had a spaghetti-strap top that dipped low. She didn’t have a lot up top, not really, but she wasn’t flat either. The bottoms that came with the outfit were much shorter than the others.

Megan picked up the last outfit. The bottoms were pink, with little red and white hearts—most likely left over from Valentine’s Day. It was paired with a simple light pink tank top. She’d liked it as soon as she saw it. Megan only hoped Paul didn’t think it was too much, with the hearts and all. 

Deciding to take a chance, Megan put on the tank top and heart shorts. Aside from the hearts, it wasn’t all that unlike what she normally wore to bed. She was hoping that while he’d notice, he wouldn’t immediately become suspicious. He was a cop, after all. 

After taking a look in the mirror, Megan opened her bedroom door, and peeked out into the hallway just in time to see Chloe barreling toward her. Megan bent down to brace herself for impact. Even then, she had to put a hand down on the floor to keep from falling backward. 

“Are you going to help Daddy read me a bedtime story?”

“I can, if you want me to.”

Chloe nodded, took hold of Megan’s hand, and led her down the hall to her room, leaving Paul to follow. Megan glanced over her shoulder, and found Paul smiling. She smiled back. This was the Paul she knew—the one who loved his daughter above all else. 

Inside her bedroom, Chloe released Megan’s hand and walked over to her bookshelf. She selected the book she wanted and then climbed into her bed. Paul sat down on one side of Chloe, and Megan on the other. They each took turns reading a page until the little girl was yawning and rubbing her eyes. 

Paul closed the book, and Chloe started to whine. 

“Time for bed.”

“But, Daddy . . .”

He didn’t say anything, but his look spoke volumes. Chloe lowered her eyes and huffed a little, before lying down and closing her eyes. 

Paul leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “Good night, sweetpea.”

Chloe kept her eyes closed tight. “Good night, Daddy.”

Megan followed suit, giving Chloe a kiss on the forehead, and saying good night. 

The little girl yawned. “G’night, Meg-an.”

Megan smiled and ambled out of the room with Paul. She was so caught up in the bedtime ritual they’d taken part in that she was completely caught off guard when Paul reached out, stopping her from continuing. 

“Could we talk?”

She met his gaze, and her heart began to race. It wasn’t what she saw in his eyes, it was what she didn’t. He had what she called his “cop face” on. His expression was devoid of emotion, and he looked as if he were gearing up for a battle of some sort. Was that because he’d remembered what had happened between them? Megan didn’t know, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to find out. 

Unfortunately, running wouldn’t help her cause, so she answered in the only way she could. “Sure.”

He nodded and turned abruptly toward the stairs. She followed him to the kitchen. 

Paul didn’t sit down, so Megan didn’t either. Instead, she stood right inside the doorway with her back against the wall. She might even have lifted her leg a little and arched her back, to make her chest stick out a bit more.

He strolled over to the far side of the room and leaned back against the counter, facing her. For the longest time, he didn’t say anything, and neither did Megan. She was tempted, but she wanted to find out what he’d say first. 

After a long, drawn-out silence, Paul cleared his throat. “I wanted to talk to you about last night.”

Megan nodded, afraid that if she spoke, she’d give something away. 

Paul took a deep breath and looked her in the eye. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

She paled. “You’re sorry?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

Megan felt sick to her stomach, and she saw something flash across his face before he schooled his features. “You remembered?”

Paul shook his head. “No. And I’m sorry about that, too. I can’t tell you the last time I blacked out like that from drinking too much. It shouldn’t have happened, and I’m sorry.”

The churning in Megan’s belly subsided a little, but anxiety rapidly took up residence. “So you don’t remember what happened?” 

She said it more to herself than to him, but he answered her anyway. “No.”

Megan swallowed and pushed herself off the wall, walking toward him. He watched her with an eagle eye. She knew he was wondering what she was doing, and to be honest, she was wondering the same thing herself. 

When she came to a stop in front of him, she stood closer than they’d ever been before, with only one exception. He looked down at her, and she hoped he liked the view that included a nice display of the tops of her breasts. Just thinking about Paul and her breasts together brought back the memory of his hands and mouth on them. Her body heated at the memory.

Licking her lips, she searched his eyes for any recollection. “You kissed me.”

His eyes grew wide with shock, and he tensed. Other than that, he didn’t react in any way to her bombshell. 

Megan decided to push the envelope a little by filling in the gaps for him. She wanted to touch Paul, but she was afraid it would spook him. “I heard a noise, so I went to check on you. You’d bumped into the dresser, and almost knocked the television over, so I helped you to the bed.”

The vein in his throat pulsed rapidly, but he remained silent.

“You don’t remember any of this?”

“No.” It sounded as if it were a struggle for him to say that one word. 

She sighed and reached up to touch his face. Paul leaned back, evading her hand. Megan tried to hide how much that hurt, but she knew he saw it anyway. 

Before she could regain her equilibrium, Paul sidestepped her, putting some distance between them. She wanted to grab hold of his arm, and pull him back to her, but she didn’t. It would have been too much to ask for him to take her in his arms and pick up where they’d left off.

He’d kissed her? That was impossible. But even as that thought crossed his mind, Paul knew she was telling the truth. Once again, the sight of Megan perched above him filled his mind. This time, it took on a whole new context. 

Megan wasn’t lying. 

Paul flexed his fingers, unsure what to do with himself. He was in uncharted territory. This wasn’t like the woman he’d picked up in that club four years ago. He knew Megan. She lived in his house, for crying out loud. It wasn’t as if he could up and leave. 

Chancing a look at Megan, he could see the hurt in her eyes. He could tell she was trying to hide it, but she wasn’t doing a very good job. He felt like a cad. She’d said he’d kissed her, not the other way around.
He’d
initiated the kiss.
He’d
changed things between them. It was his fault. 

He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath before opening them again. Megan looked so small as she stood there in his kitchen in her shorts and tank top. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, as he knew what he said next would hurt her. It was the last thing he wanted, but he knew it needed to be done. He still loved his wife—would always love his wife. There was no future for him with anyone else. 

“I was out of line. I’m sorry.” He paused. “I still love my wife, Megan. Nothing can happen between the two of us.”

She was quiet for several seconds, and then he saw her press her lips together and straighten her shoulders. “Why?”

Paul looked at her with slight disbelief. “Did you miss the part about me still loving my wife?”