She couldn’t let it happen again, couldn’t take a chance on getting involved. Desiring a man was one thing, but trusting one again was even more difficult. She would have to reach down deep inside herself and find the control she’d somehow lost today.
Megan wasn’t certain how long she lay there wrapped in her own mortification. But suddenly, she heard loud footsteps on the stairs and knew her son was back. Quickly, she jumped up, went into her bathroom and turned on the shower.
Ryan couldn’t learn what a fool she’d made of herself, she thought, stripping off her wet things, nor could Grace. But the question remained: How was she going to face Alex?
Lawrence Williams rose and stood behind his heavy oak desk in his office at First National Bank, extending his hand to Alex. “I’m impressed with your company’s reputation. We’d be pleased to do business with you, Mr. Shephard.”
Alex shook the hand of the final banker he’d wanted to meet. First National was exactly the kind of lending institution Shephard Construction liked dealing with—not too large yet with an impressive reputation and a good name in the community. “Thanks. I appreciate your seeing me on such short notice. After the results of the feasibility study are in, I’ll be in touch.”
Williams walked around his desk, strolling to the door with him. “I look forward to hearing from you.” He ushered Alex out to the bank’s main lobby. “Did you drive in for the day or are you staying nearby?”
“I’ve got a room at Delaney’s Bed & Breakfast.”
“Ah, yes. Shame about Mr. Delaney dying like that. We do business with Mrs. Delaney. Actually, we hold mortgages on many properties in Twin Oaks, both residential and commercial.”
Alex knew the loan officer was still trying to impress him with his bank’s volume, but something else interested him more. “Do you hold the mortgage on the Delaney property?”
“Yes, indeed. First and second mortgage.”
Two mortgages? His hand on the doorknob, Alex paused. “I understood Neal Delaney had a considerable amount of insurance. I’d have thought his widow would have paid off the mortgages after his death.”
Williams adjusted his rimless glasses. “I don’t know anything about any insurance settlement. I do know she didn’t pay off her mortgages. Matter of fact, well, I really shouldn’t say any more. Financial information is confidential, you realize.”
“Of course. However, I’m more than just a guest passing through.” Alex decided that that kiss yesterday allowed him to take their relationship a step further. “I’m a friend. If Megan Delaney’s in some sort of financial difficulty...”
“I didn’t say that.” Williams shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “As I’m sure you’re aware, it’s not unusual for a new business to have cash-flow problems and get a bit behind. We at First National Bank believe in working with our customers. We know how hard Mrs. Delaney’s trying to make a go of her business. We have every faith in her.” Obviously uncomfortable about having said too much, he checked his watch. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another appointment. Please call as soon as you’re ready to discuss particulars.”
“Yes, thank you, I will.” Alex walked through the lobby and outside, his forehead wrinkled thoughtfully. A second mortgage when he’d thought she’d surely paid off the first. Cash-flow problems? A bit behind? Just how far behind was that and how large were those payments?
And always he came back to this thought: What in hell had Megan done with over a quarter of a million dollars in insurance money?
A sunny Monday afternoon had tourists and browsers strolling by the shops and boutiques of Twin Oaks. Because he needed to think, Alex ambled along among them, glancing in the windows of a fudge shop, another that featured colorful glassware, and a card and souvenir shop.
Had Neal and Megan run up huge debts renovating the place before they’d opened the doors? he wondered. But Emily had said they’d done much of the work themselves. There would have been large cash outlays for the speedboat, the flashy car. Had they lived beyond their means, led the good life, letting essential obligations like the mortgage go unpaid? That seemed so out of character for the way he knew Megan to be, frugally putting on a barbecue herself instead of having it catered, making minor repairs rather than calling a repairman, even baking to supplement her income.
Had Neal been a spendthrift, then?
Or—and this thought weighed heavily—had they, like many self-employed people with small businesses, had no medical insurance, thereby obliging her to pay off heavy hospital debts with Neal’s life insurance money? Fortunately, his father had seen to it that everyone at Shephard Construction had excellent health insurance, so his liver transplant, which could easily have run upward of three hundred thousand, had been paid for completely through insurance. If Neal had been number one on the transplant list, he’d have had to have sufficient coverage or cash, or they wouldn’t have considered him. Medicine, after all, was a business.
Heading for his car, Alex realized that every question he asked himself only led to others. If only he could get some answers out of Megan.
She’d had trouble making eye contact with him after that kiss. He’d stayed mostly out of her way since then, giving her time to realize that they hadn’t done anything wrong. But when he’d tried to take her aside Sunday afternoon, she’d all but run from him, saying she had things to do.
Bull!
They’d have to talk about this shift in their relationship sooner or later. Ignoring it would only emphasize it, blow it out of all proportion. He unlocked the Porsche and climbed in. Easing out into the noonday traffic, he decided he’d try again today. Somehow he had to get through to her so she’d stop berating herself over a mere kiss.
Well, it had been more than that. It had been one hell of a kiss. In reality, it had knocked his socks off and made him long for more. What Megan didn’t know, couldn’t know, was that that kiss had stirred Alex in ways he’d been privately, silently worried he might not be stirred again. At the onset of his illness, sex had been the furthest thing from his mind. After the surgery, there’d been long months when he didn’t care, when sex was a vague memory, a distant dream, as his body fought to survive, to heal.
As he recovered at home, his interest had slowly come creeping back. Some days, yearnings had overwhelmed him, making him tight and tense. But there’d been nothing and no one in so long that he’d fearfully wondered if things would ever be the same again.
Then suddenly, there’d been a beautiful woman, wet and clinging, in his arms. A very sexy, seemingly willing woman. And Alex had been thrilled to realize he not only wanted her, but he wanted her fiercely.
Megan had pulled away before she’d realized how close he’d been to hauling her onto his soft bed. Something had stopped her, some memory or fear or demon of her own. But she wanted him. He knew it and now she knew it, too. Desire had been tamped down, but it would flare up again, Alex was certain.
And why not? They were both single, unattached, available. Why shouldn’t they enjoy one another and relieve some of the tension? Of course, if he couldn’t get her to open up and talk this out, nothing would happen, he thought as he swung into Delaney’s lot and parked.
On his way to the front door, he heard a sound from the side yard and wandered over to investigate. There was the object of his mind’s meanderings, using an ancient push mower to cut the grass. She was having a terrible time on the lumpy terrain with blades that looked dull and rusty. He strolled toward her.
Megan finished a row, turned the mower around and glanced up to see Alex walking to meet her. Just what she needed. She was hot, sweaty and tired after struggling with the stubborn mower for half an hour and getting very little done. She had a headache left over from yesterday and the day before, probably because she was sleeping so poorly. There were days, infrequent but nonetheless real, when she wanted to stay in bed, pull the covers over her head and hide from the harsh realities of the world. This was one of them, and the expression on Alex’s face told her he was going to add to her problems. She almost groaned aloud.
Blocking her path, he propped his hands on his hips. “This is not something you should be doing. Why don’t you hire a handyman?” Maybe a direct question like that would force her to give him a direct answer for a change.
If he only knew how much she’d love to hire a handyman. She had a list that would keep him busy a month. Instead, she put on a smile. “I’m stronger than I look. Besides, this is good exercise. Like tennis.”
Alex shot the decrepit mower a disdainful look. “Not with this old thing. It’s a struggle every step and you know it.” He leaned down and gingerly ran his thumb over one of the blades. “those wouldn’t cut soft butter much less this tough grass. Is there anything in that backyard shed that I could use to sharpen them with?”
Wearily, feeling hot and irritable, she used a tissue to mop her damp forehead. “I don’t know what all is in that shed. That was Neal’s domain.” Not that he’d shown any interest in it or yard work in several years.
“I’ll have a look. You go inside. I’ll finish here.”
That got her dander up. “Listen, how many times must I tell you that I either hire work done or I do it myself?”
“Are we going to have this discussion again? Your face is as red as a beet and your eyes look like someone’s punched you out.”
“Thank you for that complimentary observation.” Though she knew he was right, she stubbornly grabbed the mower handle.
Far too easily, he took it from her. “You’re not doing this heavy work, not while I’m around. Go inside and make a pie or something.” He knew better than to tell her to lie down. He had a feeling she hadn’t napped in the afternoon since she was three years old.
Bristling, Megan drew herself up to her full five feet, five inches. “Did I ever tell you I don’t respond well to caveman tactics?”
He saw the unyielding set of her mouth, but he also noticed the smudges of fatigue beneath her eyes. “Did I tell you I don’t respond well to bullheaded females? Like the song says, you got to know when to hold, know when to fold. You just folded, lady.
Go inside.
” Irritated, he picked up the mower and pulled it toward the backyard shed.
Feeling utterly drained by her morning, by the thought of all she had yet to do today and by the “friendly discussion” she’d just had with a guest she couldn’t seem to control, Megan wished she could run away somewhere quiet and have a good cry. She’d done just that the other day after she’d all but ravaged the same guest in his bathtub. This was so unlike her, Megan thought with no small amount of displeasure.
She looked at the shaggy grass again. It wasn’t worth the effort of fighting over. It seemed that Alex was hell-bent on cutting it himself, so let him.
Without so much as a glance, Megan walked past the shed where Alex was searching around. In her kitchen, she went to the cupboard and found two aspirins, washed them down with a full glass of cold water.
“Finished already?” Grace asked, coming out of the laundry room with an armload of linens.
“Not exactly.” Megan rinsed out the glass, set it to dry. “Alex is going to do it.” She raised weary eyes to her friend’s surprised face. “Don’t ask. Listen, I’m going upstairs to lie down for half an hour to see if I can get rid of this tension headache.”
Grace sympathized. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, thanks. I’ll be fine. Wake me in half an hour, please.” She headed for the stairs.
The rest of the day and evening went by in a blur for Megan. She was downstairs in time to give Ryan milk and cookies after school and listen to his excited chatter about a class outing planned for the following week, but later she couldn’t have recited a word he’d said. The damnable headache just wouldn’t ease. Grace had volunteered to keep an eye on him while she’d diligently set to work baking three pies and six dozen cookies. About to start on some muffins, she braced both hands on the sink, bowed her head and closed her eyes.
Always one to face facts, Megan decided she must be overtired for this headache to hang on the way it had. She put away the muffin pans and began wrapping the cooled pastries, unable to bake another thing today. She couldn’t afford to get a migraine, something she’d suffered with during her last few years with Neal. There was so much to do.
Two of the inn’s rooms were empty, but a couple from Minnesota was scheduled to arrive tomorrow and maybe someone would spot her sign and fill the last one. She desperately needed the money. Any day now, the bank would start knocking on her door about the missed mortgage payments. She’d already received two discreet reminders. She’d phoned them about an equity loan, but because of the second mortgage, there wasn’t enough equity in the building to warrant another loan.
She couldn’t sell her six-year-old car for enough to buy groceries for a day, much less a week. There were no insurance policies left to turn in, nothing left to sell or borrow on. Where she would turn next, Megan wasn’t certain. Something would turn up, she decided with a flicker of her old determination. It had to. She couldn’t lose everything she’d worked so hard for.
If only her headache would ease, perhaps she could think of a way out. If only Alex Shephard would end his stay, she could think more clearly. As much as she needed the revenue from his room rental, his unnerving presence was clouding her already befuddled mind.