Sky High (Three Contemporary Novella's) (22 page)

“She’s a little young for you, isn’t she?” Serena drawled under her breath a moment before Meg reached them.

“Ah…Meg, this is Serena, an old work colleague. Serena, Meg.” If Meg noted the name and remembered his story, she never let it show. Maybe she’d forgotten.

Serena held out a perfectly manicured hand and smiled. She was seemingly friendly and sincere, but Garrett wasn’t fooled. Serena was going in for the kill. “Hi. Hope this isn’t too awkward for you, running into the ex and everything.”

But Meg hadn’t forgotten the story or the name. She shook Serena’s hand, her bright smile never faltering, and said, “Huh. He never mentioned you.” Then she turned her megawatt smile on Garrett. “Of course, if Garrett told me about
every
old girlfriend from the dark ages of his youth, we’d be here all day. You ready to go?”

Garrett blinked. He didn’t dare look at Serena. He didn’t have to, because he knew what he’d see. She’d just been scathingly set down by a girl ten years her junior and half her size, declared insignificant, and—worse in Serena’s mind—
old
. She was probably ready to explode with rage. Good.

“Uh, yeah. Let’s go. Serena, guess I’ll see you around the courthouse?”

The pause before she replied spoke volumes. “Sure. Nice meeting you, Meg.”

“Same!” Meg chirped, curling her hand around Garrett’s arm and steering him out of the shop. He was sure he could feel Serena’s eyes burning holes in his back as he left.

“What the hell was that?” Garrett asked when they were safely out on the sidewalk.

Meg shrugged absently. “She came at me with her claws out, so I slapped her hand.”

“I didn’t know you had it in you, Meg.”

“I went to an all-girls private school. I know how to play that game. I may have fallen for Mark Rubiak’s bullshit, but I’m not dumb.”

“Never said you were.”

“Wow, she’s a real bitch. You’ve got excellent taste in women, Garrett.”

“Says the girl who was engaged to the FBI’s most wanted criminal until yesterday afternoon.”

He was afraid he’d gone too far, poked at something too tender, but instead, she erupted in laughter, soft at first, and then, as if a dam had broken, loud, helpless guffaws. Before he knew what was happening, Garrett was laughing, too. It was all too ridiculous—Serena’s shocked face as they left, the crazy, improbable circumstances that had him spending this weekend with Meg, the unbelievable way she’d fallen into his life. Meg laughed until tears were streaming down her face. He laughed, too, holding her around the waist to steady her. The lightness in his chest was so unfamiliar that he almost didn’t recognize it. Happiness. A specific kind of happiness centered around a specific person.

Oh, hell.

Meg was still laughing. It was tapering off into breathless, sighing giggles as she tried to control it, and Garrett tried to control what was happening inside himself. He could not do this. He could not have her. Not under ordinary circumstances and certainly not under
these
circumstances. It wasn’t helping that as her laughter subsided, she didn’t release her hold on him. Her hands splayed out on his chest, and her eyes were fixed somewhere around his Adam’s apple. His fingers curled slightly into her hips and she leaned in closer on a sigh. She wanted him, too. He wasn’t mistaking the obvious signs of physical attraction. He was fairly certain if he made a move, he wouldn’t be rebuffed. But that was not going to happen. He wasn’t a good guy, not by a long shot, but he wasn’t so bad that he’d take advantage of a woman in Meg’s emotionally compromised state. She couldn’t possibly know what she wanted right now, and it would be all too easy for her to do something she wouldn’t ordinarily do. He didn’t want to become another thing for her to regret. She had plenty of those already.

So he took a casual step back from her and smiled, holding out his hand. “Carry your bags?”

Her eyes skittered warily up to his and she bit her lip. Good Lord, he wished she wouldn’t do that. But then she looked away, breaking the spell, and handed him her new shopping bags. “Thanks.”

The sexually charged moment dissipated, but Meg stayed in good spirits. She loved Mexico City, which surprised him. As they left the shopping district and ambled back through neighborhoods toward his apartment, she exclaimed over everything she saw. It was amazing to him that, in the face of such fresh betrayal, she could still find plenty of things to enjoy about everything she experienced. He’d been betrayed by the person he loved ten years ago and he hadn’t put himself back together half as well as Meg had in twenty-four hours.

They stopped for dinner, choosing to sit in the back courtyard of the restaurant and enjoy the remarkably temperate weather. The sun was fading and there were little twinkle lights strung up over the tables. The leaves of the tree in the back corner rustled and sighed. Meg propped her elbow on the table, chin in hand. A votive candle in a red glass holder cast flickering light across her face, making her eyes glint. She looked around herself and sighed.

“It’s so pretty, just like I imagined it would be when I got to Mexico.”

Garrett scowled, suddenly feeling like that blond Adonis, Fake Spencer, was crowding into the table with them. Meg didn’t seem to be thinking of Fake Spencer tonight, though. She seemed to be living entirely in the moment, not lingering in her past. Just like when she told him about her dad on the plane.

“Can I ask you something?”

She sipped her sangria. “Sure.”

“Why did you go home to your dad’s when he got sick? Now that I know his situation, it’s obvious he had the money for a full-time medical staff to take care of him. Why you?”

“He did have nurses. But nurses aren’t family. My parents got divorced when I was little and things were strained for a long time. I didn’t see him much. When he got his diagnosis, I think he had a lot of regrets about that. He thought he’d have more time to fix things. So I made sure we did what we could with the time he had left. Why do you ask?”

He shrugged, trying to mask how very interested he was in her. “Just curious. You confound me sometimes. Just trying to figure out what makes you tick. Like Spencer.”

“What about him?”

“Two days ago you were talking about marrying the guy. I don’t know… I thought you’d be more upset. You can be, you know. It’s okay to be angry or sad or—”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“You
want
me to be sad. You want me to get all caught up in the awfulness of it so I start seeing the world the way you do, because you think I need to learn a lesson about people. You want me to be angry and bitter and—”

Garrett reached across the table and covered her hand with his own. “No, Meg, I really don’t want that to happen to you. Actually, I’m praying to God that this shitty thing this asshole did to you won’t make you start seeing the world the way I do. Because that would be the real tragedy. I like seeing you still enjoying your life even after what’s happened. I think I lost that ability along the way. You’re strong, much more so than I gave you credit for.”

“It’s no different than losing my dad. I was sad. I still am. But I don’t want to live in my sadness, and he wouldn’t want me to. I chose to be happy and move on. In this case, Spencer—
Mark
—doesn’t deserve my sadness. I can’t give him the satisfaction of another tear shed, not over a guy who was never real. He deserves something from me, but it’s not tears. It’s revenge.”

Garrett squeezed her hand, wishing he didn’t need to let her go, but knowing he did. “Attagirl.”

His fingers had just slipped away from hers when her phone, which she’d kept close to her side all day, vibrated. She flipped it over, checked the screen, and looked up at Garrett.

“He wrote back.”

#

Meg,

You seemed pretty furious yesterday. I thought we had something, too, but you were more than ready to walk away when it all wasn’t as perfect as you wanted it to be. Frankly, I’m not eager for more judgment from you. I thought you’d have been more understanding after everything we shared. Was I wrong about that?

Spencer

They called David and Ken as soon as they got back to Garrett’s place. Mark’s email back was short, a little angry, but not a confirmed “no.” David and Ken were excited; Meg was less confident, but she was willing to try. Garrett set them up on a group phone call and David remotely accessed her laptop so they could see her screen as she tried to initiate a chat with Mark. Garrett pulled his chair up next to her.

Meg: Hey, are you there?

“What are you going to say to him?” Garrett asked as they waited for a response.

“He’s clearly looking for me to convince him. So I need to convince him.”

“Convince him?”

She looked over at him. He was closer than she thought, right next to her. She could almost feel his body heat all along her right side. “Seduce him.”

Garrett swallowed thickly and looked back to her screen. An instant later, Mark’s reply popped up.

Spencer: I’m here.

Meg: Can we talk? I’ve missed talking to you like this. Remember how we’d spend all night online like this?

Spencer: I remember.

Meg: Those nights meant a lot to me, you know.

Spencer: Me, too.

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

Meg: You know, after we’d finish those chats, I’d dream about you.

Spencer: You would?

Meg: Yeah. We were always together in my dreams. Not online. Together. You could touch me and I could touch you.

There was a longer pause before he replied. She could almost feel his intrigue. She cast a sideways glance at Garrett. The blue glow from her laptop outlined his strong profile. His broad shoulders were angled slightly toward her, his left arm resting on the back of her chair, just behind her shoulder. She didn’t want to think about the reality of Mark Rubiak while she did this, pale and sweaty and a sociopathic liar, and she couldn’t even bring up Spencer anymore. He was already fading in her memories, like he’d always been no more than smoke. If she were honest with herself, she wanted to imagine she was typing this to Garrett. Just the thought made her throat get tight with a confusing mix of nerves and anticipation. Fine, she’d imagine it was Garrett. As long as Mark took the bait, who cared?

Spencer: What were we like together? In your dreams?

Meg: Good. Really, really good.

She licked her lips and flexed her fingers before she continued typing. She and Spencer had never really done this, but she suspected she’d have to go there to get Mark interested.

Meg: In my dreams, you always knew just what I liked. I keep wondering, would you know now? I feel like you would. You know me so well, it seems like you’d know just where to touch me, and just how to touch me. I’ve gone crazy thinking about your hands on me.

Spencer: You know I would, Meg. I’d know how to touch you. I’ve been thinking about being with you for months. Sometimes I can’t believe we aren’t.

Meg: So many nights I lay awake in bed imagining you with me, taking me, and I’d go out of my mind wanting you. Sometimes I’d touch my own skin and imagine it was you. Did you do that, too?

Spencer: Yeah, I did. All the time.

Meg: Was it good when I touched you? Did I get it just right?

Spencer: Yes.

Meg: If we can both imagine it this way, if we both want it this badly, maybe it’s meant to be. Do you think it would be good?

Spencer: Yeah, I do.

Meg: Me, too. I think it would be the best I’ve ever had.

Spencer: I want to, Meg, but you freaked out.

Meg: I know I did. I was just surprised. Give me another chance.

Spencer: I’m thinking about it.

Meg: Think about it tonight. Think about
me
tonight. With you. Think about what we could do together.

Spencer: I will.

Meg: Can we talk tomorrow?

Spencer: Yeah, tomorrow.

Meg: Sweet dreams.

Spencer—Mark—didn’t reply again. Meg sat back from her laptop and glanced at Garrett. He was watching her intently. Something in his eyes ignited a fire low in her belly. It made her squeeze her thighs together with want.

“Did you guys do that often?” he asked, his voice low and gruff.

She shook her head. “No, cybersex was never my thing. But I figured I needed to up my game to get him interested.”

“Trust me, he’s interested. You’re good at that.”

She made herself hold his gaze even though there was something wild and challenging there that she didn’t fully understand yet. But she didn’t have to understand it to want it. And she couldn’t lie to herself anymore. She wanted Garrett. She’d wanted him from the moment he sat down next to her on the plane, and that was when she was supposed to be in love with another man. She’d been living in an elaborate fantasy built around Fictional Spencer, one born of her grief and loneliness. But that fantasy hadn’t collapsed when she came face-to-face with Mark. It had already started to collapse the moment she was confronted with her wild attraction to a real, live man—
this
man. Even if Spencer had turned out to be real, she was beginning to suspect she’d still have been obsessed with Garrett.