Megan's Mate

Chapter 1

She wasn't a risk-taker. She was always absolutely sure a step was completed before she took the next. It was part of her personality—at least it had been for nearly ten years. She'd trained herself to be practical, to be cautious. Megan O'Riley was a woman who double-checked the locks at night.

To prepare for the flight from Oklahoma to Maine, she had meticulously packed carry-on bags for herself and her son, and had arranged for the rest of their belongings to be shipped. It was foolish, she thought, to waste time at baggage claim.

The move east wasn't an impulse. She had told herself that dozens of times during the past six months. It was both a practical and an advantageous step, not only for herself, but for Kevin, too. The adjustment shouldn't be too difficult, she thought as she glanced over to the window seat where her son was dozing. They had family in Bar Harbor, and Kevin had been beside himself with excitement ever since she'd told him she was considering moving near his uncle and his half brother and sister. And cousins, she thought. Four new babies had been born since she and Kevin had first flown to Maine, to attend her brother's wedding to Amanda Calhoun.

She watched him sleep, her little boy. Not so little anymore, she realized. He was nearly nine. It would be good for him to be a part of a big family. The Calhouns were generous, God knew, with their affection.

She would never forget how Suzanna Calhoun Dumont, now Bradford, had welcomed her the year before. Even knowing that Megan had been Suzanna's husband's lover just prior to Suzanna's marriage, had borne Baxter Dumont a child, Suzanna had been warm and open.

Of course, Megan was a poor example of the classic other woman. She hadn't known Suzanna even existed when she fell for Baxter. She'd been only seventeen, naive, and ready to believe all the promises and the vows of undying love. No, she hadn't known Bax was engaged to Suzanna Calhoun.

When she'd given birth to Baxter's child, he'd been on his honeymoon. He had never seen or acknowledged the son Megan O'Riley had borne him.

Years later, when fate tossed Megan's brother, Sloan, and Suzanna's sister Amanda together, the story had come out.

Now, through the twists and turns of fate, Megan and her son would live in the house where Suzanna and her sisters had grown up. Kevin would have family—a half brother and sister, cousins, and a houseful of aunts and uncles. And what a house.

The Towers, Megan mused. The glorious old stone structure Kevin still called a castle. She wondered what it would be like to live there, to work there. Now that the renovations on The Towers Retreat were completed, a large portion of the house served as a hotel. A St. James hotel, she added thoughtfully, the brainstorm of Trenton St. James III, who had married the youngest Calhoun, Catherine.

St. James hotels were known worldwide for their quality and class. The offer to join the company as head accountant had, after much weighing and measuring, simply been too good to resist.

And she was dying to see her brother, Sloan, the rest of the family, The Towers itself.

If she was nervous, she told herself it was foolish to be. The move was a very practical, very logical step. Her new title, accounts manager, soothed frustrated ambitions, and though money had never been a problem, her new salary didn't hurt the ego, either.

And most important of all, she would have more time to spend with Kevin.

As the approach for landing was announced, Megan reached over, brushed a hand through Kevin's hair. His eyes, dark and sleepy, blinked open.

“Are we there yet?”

“Just about. Put your seat back up. Look, you can see the bay.”

“We're going to go boating, right?” If he'd been fully awake, he might have remembered he was too old to bounce on his seat. But he bounced now, his face pressed to the window in his excitement. “And see whales. We'll go on Alex's new dad's boat.”

The idea of boating made her stomach turn, but she smiled gamely. “You bet we will.”

“And we're really going to live in that castle?” He turned back to her, her beautiful boy with his golden skin and tousled black hair.

“You'll have Alex's old room.”

“And there's ghosts.” He grinned, showing gaps where baby teeth had been. “So they say. Friendly ones.”

“Maybe not all of them.” At least Kevin hoped not. “Alex says there's lots of them, and sometimes they moan and scream. And last year a man fell right out of the tower window and broke all his bones on the rocks.”

She shuddered, knowing that part was sterling truth. The Calhoun emeralds, discovered a year before, had drawn out more than a legend and romance. They'd drawn out a thief and a murderer. “That's over with now, Kevin. The Towers is safe.”

“Yeah.” But he was a boy, after all, and hoped for at least a little danger.

There was another boy who was already plotting adventures. It felt as though he'd been waiting forever at the airport gate for his brother to arrive. Alex had one hand in his mother's, the other in Jenny's— because, as his mother had told him, he was the oldest and had to keep his sister close.

His mother was holding the baby, his brand-new brother. Alex could hardly wait to show him off.

“Why aren't they here yet?”

“Because it takes time for people to get off the plane and out the gate.”

“How come it’s called a gate?” Jenny wanted to know. “It doesn't look like a gate.”

“I think they used to have gates, so they still call them that.” It was the best Suzanna could come up with after a frazzling half hour at the airport with three children in tow.

Then the baby cooed and made her smile. “Look, Mom! There they are!”

Before Suzanna could respond, Alex had broken away and made a beeline toward Kevin, Jenny hot on his heels. She winced as they barely missed plowing into other passengers, then raised a resigned hand to wave at Megan.

“Hi!” Alex, having been schooled in airport procedure by his mother, manfully took Kevin's carryon. “I'm supposed to take this 'cause we're picking you up.” It bothered him a little that, even though his mother claimed he was growing like a weed, Kevin was still taller.

“Have you still got the fort?”

“We got the one at the big house,” Alex told him. “And we got a new one at the cottage. We live at the cottage.”

“With our dad,” Jenny piped up. “We got new names and everything. He can fix anything, and he built me a new bedroom.”

“It has pink curtains,” Alex said with a sneer.

Knowing a brawl was dangerously close, Suzanna neatly stepped between her two children. “How was your flight?” She bent down, kissed Kevin, then straightened to kiss Megan.

“It was fine, thanks.” Megan still didn't know quite how to respond to Suzanna's easy affection. There were still times she wanted to shout, I slept with your husband. Don't you understand? Maybe he wasn't your husband yet, and I didn't know he would be, but facts are facts. “A little delayed,” she said instead. “I hope you haven't been waiting long.”

“Hours,” Alex claimed.

“Thirty minutes,” Suzanna corrected with a laugh. “How about the rest of your stuff?”

“I had it shipped. This is it for now.” Megan tapped her garment bag. Unable to resist, she peeked down at the bright-eyed baby in Suzanna's arms. He was all pink and smooth, with the dark blue eyes of a newborn and a shock of glossy black hair. She felt the foolish smile that comes over adults around babies spread over her face as he waved an impossibly small fist under her nose.

“Oh, he's beautiful. So tiny.”

“He's three weeks old,” Alex said importantly. “His name is Christian.”

“ 'Cause that was our great-grandfather's name,” Jenny supplied. “We have new cousins, too. Bianca and Cordelia—but we call her Delia—and Ethan.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Everybody had babies.”

“He's nice,” Kevin decided after a long look. “Is he my brother, too?”

“Absolutely,” Suzanna said, before Megan could respond. “I'm afraid you've got an awfully big family now.”

Kevin gave her a shy look and touched a testing finger to Christian's waving fist. “I don't mind.”

Suzanna smiled over at Megan. “Want to trade?”

Megan hesitated a moment, then gave in. “I'd love to.” She cradled the baby while Suzanna took the garment bag. “Oh, Lord.” Unable to resist, she nuzzled. “It's easy to forget how tiny they are. How wonderful they smell. And you...” As they walked through the terminal, she took a good look at Suzanna. “How can you look so terrific, when you had a baby only three weeks ago?”

“Oh, bless you. I've been feeling like such a frump. Alex, no running.”

“Same goes, Kevin. How's Sloan taking to fatherhood?” Megan wanted to know. “I hated not coming out when Mandy had the baby, but with selling the house and getting things in order to make the move, I just couldn't manage it.”

“Everyone understood. And Sloan's a terrific daddy. He'd have Delia strapped on his back twenty-four hours a day if Amanda let him. He designed this incredible nursery for the babies. Window seats, cubbyholes, wonderful built-in cupboards for toys. Delia and Bianca share it, and when C.C. and Trent are in town—which, since The Retreat opened, is more often than not—Ethan's in there, too.”

“It's wonderful that they'll all grow up together.” She looked at Kevin, Alex and Jenny, thinking as much about them as about the babies.

Suzanna understood perfectly. “Yes, it is. I'm so glad you're here, Megan. It's like getting another sister.” She watched Megan's lashes lower. Not quite ready for that, Suzanna surmised, and switched subjects. “And it's going to be a huge relief to hand over the books to you. Not only for The Retreat, but for the boat business, too.”

“I'm looking forward to it.”

Suzanna stopped by a new minivan, unlocked the doors. “Pile in,” she told the kids, then slipped the baby out of Megan's arms. “I hope you say that after you get a look at the ledgers.” Competently she strapped the baby into his car seat. “I'm afraid Holt's a pathetic record keeper. And Nathaniel...”

“Oh, that's right. Holt has a partner now. What did Sloan tell me? An old friend?”

“Holt and Nathaniel grew up together on the island. Nathaniel moved back a few months ago. He used to be in the merchant marine. There you go, sweetie.” She kissed the baby, then shot an eagle eye over the rest of the children to make sure seat belts were securely buckled. She clicked the sliding door into place, then rounded the hood as Megan took the passenger seat. “He's quite a character,” Suzanna said mildly. “You'll get a kick out of him.”

The character was just finishing up an enormous lunch of fried chicken, potato salad and lemon meringue pie. With a sigh of satisfaction, he pushed back from the table and eyed his hostess lustfully.

“What do I have to do to get you to marry me, darling?”

She giggled, blushed and waved a hand at him. “You're such a tease, Nate.”

“Who's teasing?” He rose, grabbed her fluttering hand and kissed it lavishly. She always smelted like a woman—soft, lush, glorious. He winked and skimmed his lips up to nibble on her wrist. “You know I'm crazy about you, Coco.”

Cordelia Calhoun McPike gave another delighted giggle, then patted his cheek. “About my cooking.”

“That, too.” He grinned when she slipped away to pour him coffee. She was a hell of a woman, he thought. Tall, stately, striking. It amazed him that some smart man hadn't scooped up the widow McPike long ago. “Who do I have to fight off this week?”

“Now that The Retreat's open, I don't have time for romance.” She might have sighed over it if she wasn't so pleased with her life. All her darling girls were married and happy, with babies of their own. She had grandnieces and grandnephews to spoil, nephews-in-law to coddle, and, most surprising of all, a full-fledged career as head chef for the St. James Towers Retreat. She offered Nathaniel the coffee and, because she caught him eyeing the pie, cut him another slice.

“You read my mind.”

Now she did sigh a little. There was nothing quite so comforting to Coco as watching a man enjoy her food. And he was some man. When Nathaniel Fury rolled back into town, people had noticed. Who could overlook tall, dark and handsome? Certainly not Coco McPike. Particularly not when the combination came with smoky gray eyes, a cleft chin and wonderfully golden skin over sharp cheekbones—not to mention considerable charm.

The black T-shirt and jeans he wore accented an athletic, rangy bodybroad shoulders, muscular arms, narrow hips.

Then there was that aura of mystery, a touch of the exotic. It went deeper than his looks, though the dark eyes and the waving mane of deep mahogany hair was exotic enough. It was a matter of presence, she supposed, the culmination of what he'd done and what had touched him in all those years he traveled to foreign ports.

If she'd been twenty years younger... Well, she thought, patting her rich chestnut hair, maybe ten.

But she wasn't, so she had given Nathaniel the place in her heart of the son she'd never had. She was determined to find the right woman for him and see him settled happily. Like her beautiful girls.

Since she felt she had personally arranged the romances and resulting unions of all four of her nieces, she was confident she could do the same for Nathaniel.

“I did your chart last night,” she said casually, and checked the fish stew she had simmering for tonight's menu.

“Oh, yeah?” He scooped up more pie. God, the woman could cook.

“You're entering a new phase of your life, Nate.”

He'd seen too much of the world to totally dismiss astrology—or any thing else. So he smiled at her. “I'd say you're on target there, Coco. Got myself a business, a house on land, retired my seabag.”

“No, this phase is more personal.” She wiggled her slim brows. “It has to do with Venus.”

He grinned at that. “So, are you going to marry me?”

She wagged a finger at him. “You're going to say that to someone, quite seriously, before the summer's over. Actually, I saw you falling in love twice. I'm not quite sure what that means.” Her forehead wrinkled as she considered. “It didn't really seem as if you'd have to choose, though there was quite a bit of interference. Perhaps even danger.”

“If a guy falls for two women, he's asking for trouble.” And Nathaniel was content, at least for the moment, to have no females in his life. Women simply didn't come without expectations, and he planned to fulfill none but his own. “And since my heart already belongs to you...” He got up to go to the stove and kiss her cheek.

The tornado blew in without warning. The kitchen door slammed open, and three shrieking whirlwinds spun through.

“Aunt Coco! They're here!”

“Oh, my.” Coco pressed a hand to her speeding heart. “Alex, you took a year off my life.” But she smiled, studying the dark-eyed boy beside him. “Can this be Kevin? You've grown a foot! Don't you have a kiss for Aunt Coco?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He went forward dutifully, still unsure of his ground. He was enveloped against soft breasts, in soft scents. It eased his somewhat nervous stomach.

“We're so glad you're here.” Coco's eyes teared up sentimentally. “Now the whole family's in one place. Kevin, this is Mr. Fury. Nate, my grandnephew.”

Nathaniel knew the story, how the scum Baxter Dumont had managed to get some naive kid pregnant shortly before he married Suzanna. The boy was eyeing him now, nervous but contained. Nathaniel realized Kevin knew the story, as well—or part of it.

“Welcome to Bar Harbor.” He offered his hand, which Kevin took politely.

“Nate runs the boat shop and stuff with my dad.” The novelty of saying “my dad” had yet to wear thin with Alex. “Kevin wants to see whales,” he told Nathaniel. “He comes from Oklahoma, and they don't have any. They hardly have any water at all.”

“We've got some.” Kevin automatically defended his homeland. “And we've got cowboys,” he added, one-upping Alex. “You don't have any of those.”

“Uh-huh.” This from Jenny. “I got a whole cowboy suit.” “Girl,” Alex corrected. “It's a cowgirl, 'cause you're a girl.” “It is not.”

“Is too.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Is not.”

“Well, I see everything's normal in here.” Suzanna entered, aiming a warning look at both of her children. “Hello, Nate. I didn't expect to see you here.”

“I got lucky.” He slipped an arm around Coco's shoulders. “Spent an hour with my woman.”

“Flirting with Aunt Coco again?” But Suzanna noted that his gaze had already shifted. She remembered that look from the first time they'd met. The way the gray eyes measured, assessed. Automatically she put a hand on Megan's arm. “Megan O'Riley, Nathaniel Fury, Holt's partner—and Aunt Coco's latest conquest.”

“Nice to meet you.” She was tired, Megan realized. Had to be, if that clear, steady gaze put her back up. She dismissed him, a little too abruptly for politeness, and smiled at Coco. “You look wonderful.”

“Oh, and here I am in my apron. I didn't even freshen up.” Coco gave her a hard, welcoming hug. “Let me fix you something. You must be worn-out after the flight.”

“Just a little.”

“We took the bags up, and I put Christian in the nursery.” While Suzanna herded the children to the table and chatted, Nathaniel took a good long survey of Megan O'Riley.

Cool as an Atlantic breeze, he decided. A little frazzled and unnerved at the moment, he thought, but not willing to show it. The peach-toned skin and long, waving strawberry blond hair made an eye-catching combination.

Nathaniel usually preferred women who were dark and sultry, but there was something to be said for all that rose and gold. She had blue eyes, the color of a calm sea at dawn. Stubborn mouth, he mused, though it softened nicely when she smiled at her son.

A bit on the skinny side, he thought as he finished off his coffee. Needed some of Coco's cooking to help her fill out. Or maybe she just looked skinny—and prim—because she wore such severely tailored jacket and slacks.

Well aware of his scrutiny, Megan forced herself to keep up her end of the conversation with Coco and the rest. She'd grown used to stares years before, when she was young, unmarried, and pregnant by another woman's husband.

She knew how some men reacted to her status as a single mother, how they assumed she was an easy mark. And she knew how to disabuse them of the notion.

She met Nathaniel's stare levelly, frostily. He didn't look away, as most would, but continued to watch her, unblinkingly, until her teeth clenched.

Good going, he thought. She might be skinny, but she had grit. He grinned, lifted his coffee mug in a silent toast, then turned to Coco. “I've got to go, got a tour to do. Thanks for lunch, Coco.”

“Don't forget dinner. The whole family will be here. Eight o'clock.” He glanced back at Megan. “Wouldn't miss it.”

“See that you don't.” Coco looked at her watch, closed her eyes. “Where is that man? He's late again.”

“The Dutchman?”

“Who else? I sent him to the butcher's two hours ago.”

Nathaniel shrugged. His former shipmate, and The Towers' new assistant chef, ran on his own timetable. “If I see him down at the docks, I'll send him along.”

“Kiss me goodbye,” Jenny demanded, delighted when Nathaniel hauled her up.

“You're the prettiest cowboy on the island,” he whispered in her ear. Jenny shot a smug look at her brother when her feet touched the floor again. “You let me know when you're ready for a sail,” he said to Kevin. “Nice meeting you, Ms. O'Riley.”

“Nate's a sailor,” Jenny said importantly when Nathaniel strolled out. “He's been everywhere and done everything.”

Megan didn't doubt it for a minute.

So much had changed at The Towers, though the family rooms on the first two floors and the east wing were much the same. Trent St. James, with Megan's brother, Sloan, as architect, had concentrated most of the time and effort on the ten suites in the west wing, the new guest dining area and the west tower. All of that area comprised the hotel.

From the quick tour Megan was given, she could see that none of the time and effort that had gone into the construction and renovations had been wasted.

Sloan had designed with an appreciation for the original fortresslike structure, retaining the high-ceilinged rooms and circular stairs, ensuring that the many fireplaces were working, preserving the mullioned windows and French doors that led out onto terraces, balconies, parapets.

The lobby was sumptuous, filled with antiques and designed with a multitude of cozy corners that invited guests to lounge on a rainy or wintry day. The spectacular views of bay or cliffs or sea or Suzanna's fabulous gardens were there to be enjoyed, or tempted guests to stroll out onto terraces and balconies.

When Amanda, as hotel manager, took over the tour, Megan was told that each suite was unique. The storage rooms of The Towers had been full of old furniture, mementos and art. What hadn't been sold prior to Trent's having invested the St. James money in the transformation now graced the guest rooms.

Some suites were two levels, with an art deco staircase connecting the rooms, some had wainscoting or silk wallpaper. There was an Aubusson rug here, an old tapestry there. And all the rooms were infused with the legend of the Calhoun emeralds and the woman who had owned them.

The emeralds themselves, discovered after a difficult and dangerous search—some said with the help of the spirits of Bianca Calhoun and Christian Bradford, the artist who had loved her—resided now in a glass case in the lobby. Above the case was a portrait of Bianca, painted by Christian more than eighty years before.

“They're gorgeous,” Megan whispered. “Stunning.” The tiers of grass green emeralds and white diamonds almost pulsed with life.

“Sometimes I'll just stop and look at them,” Amanda admitted, “and remember all we went through to find them. How Bianca tried to use them to escape with her children to Christian. It should make me sad, I suppose, but having them here, under her portrait, seems right.”

“Yes, it does.” Megan could feel the pull of them, even through the glass. “But isn't it risky, having them out here this way?”

“Holt arranged for security. Having an ex-cop in the family means nothing's left to chance. The glass is bulletproof.” Amanda tapped her finger against it. “And wired to some high-tech sensor.” Amanda checked her watch and judged that she had fifteen minutes before she had to resume her managerial duties. “I hope your rooms are all right. We've barely scratched the surface on the family renovations.”

“They're fine.” And the truth was, it relaxed Megan a bit to see cracked plaster and gnawed woodwork. It made it all less intimidating. “Kevin's in paradise. He's outside with Alex and Jenny, playing with the new puppy.”

“Our Fred and Holt's Sadie are quite the proud parents.” With a laugh, Amanda tossed back her swing of sable hair. “Eight pups.”

“As Alex said, everyone's having babies. And your Delia is beautiful.”

“She is, isn't she?” Maternal pride glowed in Amanda's eyes. “I can't believe how much she's grown already. You should have been around here six months ago. All four of us out to here.” She laughed again as she held out her arms. “Waddling everywhere. The men strutting. Do you know they took bets to see if Lilah or I would deliver first? She beat me by two days.” And since she'd bet twenty on herself, it still irritated her a little. “It's the first time I've known her to be in a hurry about anything.”

“Her Bianca's beautiful, too. She was awake and howling for attention when I was in the nursery. Your nanny has her hands full.”

“Mrs. Billows can handle anything.”

“Actually, I wasn't thinking about the babies. It was Max.” She grinned remembering how Bianca's daddy had come running in, abandoning his new novel on the typewriter to scoop his daughter out of her crib.

“He's such a softie.”

“Who's a softie?” Sloan strode into the room to swing his sister off her feet.

“Not you, O'Riley,” Amanda murmured, watching the way his face softened like butter as he pressed his cheek to Megan's.

“You're here.” He twirled her again. “I'm so glad you're here, Meg.” “Me too.” She felt her eyes tear and squeezed him tight. “Daddy.”

With a laugh, he set her down, slipped his free arm around his wife. “Did you see her yet?”

Megan feigned ignorance. “Who?” “My girl. My Delia.”

“Oh, her.” Megan shrugged, chuckled, then kissed Sloan on his sulking mouth. “Not only did I see her, I held her, I sniffed her, and have already decided to spoil her at every opportunity. She's gorgeous, Sloan. She looks just like Amanda.”

“Yeah, she does.” He kissed his wife. “Except she's got my chin.” “That's a Calhoun chin,” Amanda claimed.

“Nope, it's O'Riley all the way. And speaking of O'Rileys,” he continued, before Amanda could argue, “where's Kevin?”

“Outside. I should probably go get him. We haven't even unpacked yet.” “We'll go with you,” Sloan said.

“You go. I'm covering.” Even as Amanda spoke, the phone on the mahogany front desk rang. “Break's over. See you at dinner, Megan.” She leaned up to kiss Sloan again. “See you sooner, O'Riley.”

“Mnuu...” Sloan gave a satisfied sigh as he watched his wife stride off. “I do love the way that woman eats up the floor.”

“You look at her just the way you did a year ago, at your wedding.” Megan tucked her hand in his as they walked out of the lobby and onto the stone terrace steps. “It's nice.”

“She's...” He searched for a word, then settled on the simplest truth. “Everything. I'd like you to be as happy as I am, Megan.”

“I am happy.” A breeze flitted through her hair. On it carried the sound of children's laughter. “Hearing that makes me happy. So does being here.” They descended another level and turned west. “I have to admit I'm a little nervous. It's such a big step.” She saw her son scramble to the top of the fort in the yard below, arms raised high in victory. “This is good for him.”

“And you?”

“And me.” She leaned against her brother. “I'll miss Mom and Dad, but they've already said that with both of us out here, it gives them twice as much reason to visit twice as often.” She pushed the blowing hair from her face while Kevin played sniper, fighting off Alex and Jenny's assault on the fort. “He needs to know the rest of his family. And I...needed a change. And as to that—” she looked back at Sloan “—I tried to get Amanda to show me the setup.”

“And she told you that you couldn't sharpen your pencils for a week.” “Something like that.”

“We decided at the last family meeting that you'd have a week to settle in before you started hammering the adding machine.”

“I don't need a week. I only need—”

“I know, I know. You'd give Amanda a run for the efficiency crown. But orders are you take a week off.”

She arched a brow. “And just who gives the orders around here?”

“Everybody.” Sloan grinned. “That's what makes it interesting.”

Thoughtful, she looked out to sea. The sky was as clear as blown glass, and the breeze warm with early summer. From her perch at the wall, she could see the small clumps of islands far out in the diamond-bright water.

A different world, she thought, from the plains and prairies of home. A different life, perhaps, for her and her son.

A week. To relax, to explore, to take excursions with Kevin. Tempting, yes. But far from responsible. “I want to pull my weight.”

“You will, believe me.” He glanced out at the clear sound of a boat horn. “That's one of Holt and Nate's,” Sloan told her, pointing to the long terraced boat that was gliding across the water. “The Mariner. Takes tourists out for whale-watching.”

The kids were all atop the fort now, shouting and waving at the boat. When the horn blasted again, they cheered.

“You'll meet Nate at dinner,” Sloan began. “I met him already.”

“Flirting a meal out of Coco?” “It appeared that way.”

Sloan shook his head. “That man can eat, let me tell you. What did you think?”

“Not much,” she muttered. “He seemed a little rough-edged to me.” “You get used to him. He's one of the family now.”

Megan made a noncommittal sound. Maybe he was, but that didn't mean he was part of hers.