Thanksgiving

Chapter 5

Megan made a fire while Pat took the baby sitter home. There weren’t many places to hide a television and a DVD player in the little cottage, she thought. Obviously, they weren’t downstairs. That left the bedroom.

She tucked a blanket around Timmy and turned toward the stairs. Stiffening her back, she took a few steps forward. So what if the television was in his bedroom? she asked herself. It was the logical place. Outdoor antennas weren’t allowed in the historic area, so it made sense to have the television on the second floor, where it would get better reception. Besides, Timmy was downstairs. The noise might wake him. Yup, it was only logical to put the television in the bedroom. And it was only logical to sit on the big fourposter to watch the movie, she thought as she climbed the stairs.

Well, there they were. A brand – new TV and a brand – new DVD player. She stood in front of them, chewing on her lower lip and wondering what movie he’d gotten. If it was rated X she was going to jump out the window. She was definitely physically ready to share a bed with Pat, but her mind was still stuck on maybe. And there was this other emotion crowding onto the scene. Panic.

When Pat walked into the room a few minutes later he speculated on Megan’s mood. She was nervous. She’d enjoyed the flirting at the restaurant, but only to a point. Then she’d tuned him out. She was making up her mind, he decided. She was attracted to him, but she was afraid. His instincts told him to go slowly. He’d waited thirty years for her. He could wait a little longer to make things exactly right.

He took a plastic bag from the dresser. “I got Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day. It’s my favorite. And I got Bridges of Madison County. I missed it when it came out.”

“Winnie the Pooh?”

“For Timmy.”

She noticed a tag taped to the top of the DVD player. “Happy Birthday from Mom and Dad,” she read. “It’s your birthday? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’d honestly forgotten about it until the DVD player and the TV arrived this morning. This has been a busy week for me. I’m not used to being a daddy.”

“Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.” He popped Winnie the Pooh into the recorder slot and zapped it with the remote.

“I thought Winnie was for Timmy.”

Pat grinned. “We should check it out. Make sure everythings okay. I wouldn’t want the little nipper to be disappointed.”

Megan stepped out of her shoes and climbed onto the soft feather quilt. She plumped a pillow at the headboard and curled her legs under her. “This is cozy. It’s a perfect night for Winnie the Pooh.”

Pat looked at the woman sitting on his bed and felt his mouth go dry. She was exquisite, and somehow, watching her take off her shoes had been as erotic as if she’d been taking off her panties. Lord, he must have been crazy.

How would he ever get through the evening without attacking her?

Megan felt the tension creeping through her body. She leaned back against the pillow and willed herself to relax. She wanted to act like an adult and let this desire grow naturally. There was a right time for everything… a time to watch a movie, a time for conversation, a time to be kissed. She took a deep breath, carefully folded her hands in her lap, and watched the wind blow Owl’s house down. Then she watched the windy day turn into a rainy night. She thought it must be nice to spend a rainy night in Patrick’s bedroom. Good thing it wasn’t raining. She might be tempted to set up housekeeping.

“Is this your furniture?” she asked to get her mind off the idea of living with Pat.

“No. My Aunt Catherine lives here. She’s a historical interpreter, but she’s taken a six month leave to participate in an archeological dig somewhere. I’ll have to find another house in March.”

He changed movies and returned to the bed, putting his arm around Megan and snuggling her next to him. “This is a terrific way to spend a birthday,” he murmured, kissing her hair. “Have you seen this movie?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the stab of pleasure his kiss had brought. “Six times, and I always cry. You’d better have lots of tissues handy.”

Later, Megan dabbed at her red – rimmed eyes and blew her nose. “It’s so beautiful,” she said, gasping.

Pat held her close and stroked a stray strand of hair from her tear- streaked face. “Are you okay? I’ve never seen anyone cry like that over a movie. I never would have gotten it if I’d known what it did to you.”

“No, I love it. It’s my favorite movie.”

“Honey, you started crying when they played the opening theme, and you absolutely sobbed through the whole last half hour!”

Megan snuffled against his chest. He was nice to cry on, she thought. Warm and strong and oozing security. This was much better than crying alone.

“I’m better now,” she said, tipping her head up toward him. She was all cried out, and she wanted to be kissed. She liked Patrick Hunter. Really liked him. He was fun, and he was comfortable. And he was sexy. Very sexy. She hadn’t changed her mind about marriage, but she thought a birthday kiss would be nice. Everyone needed to get kissed once in a while, and the “maybe” in her mind had changed to “probably.”

“Happy birthday,” she said in a voice husky from crying. She wound her arms around his neck and ran her finger along the outer rim of his ear.

Pat felt himself stir at her touch. He’d never wanted anything in his entire life the way he wanted Megan Murphy. He’d wanted her since the first moment he saw her, and that want had grown into a physical and emotional ache that nagged at him day and night. Now that he had her on his bed, waiting to be kissed, he was apprehensive. He didn’t want her seduced into his arms by Clint Eastwood, and he didn’t want her softened up by Winnie the Pooh or the fact that it was his birthday. He wanted her to want him, Patrick Hunter. He let his hands caress the pink angora sweater and felt the warm woman beneath.

“Meg, if we stay here, like this, I’m going to kiss you, and I’m not going to want to stop kissing you. Maybe I should take you home now.”

Had he just offered to take her home? he wondered. He must be nuts. He finally had Megan right where he wanted her, and he’d offered to take her home.

“I don’t want to go home,” she said. “I want to be kissed.”

Hell, he thought, that’s the ball game. He’d reached the end of his altruism. Besides, she’d be insulted if he refused to kiss her, and it would be rude to insult her. He’d warned her about kissing’s leading to other things, right? He’d told her in the beginning of the week that he’d do anything to get her. That put him in the clear, didn’t it?

Megan watched emotions parade across Pat’s face. Just when she wanted to get kissed he was going virtuous on her, she thought, waging some sort of war between his morals and his mattress. Wasn’t that her luck? “Hunter?”

“Yes?”

“Stop thinking and kiss me.”

A small frown appeared between his eyes as he lowered his head to hers. He kissed her gently, tasting, testing soft lips. “Megan, I don’t-”

She stopped his words with a kiss of her own, leaning into him, pressing against his chest, sliding her stockinged legs along his. She closed her eyes and reveled in the warmth of his body. Desire raged through her, just as she’d known it would. This was a special night, she told herself. A stolen moment of love. She wasn’t meant to be married, but she could have this one night.

Pat pulled her even closer. Megan gasped at the sudden intensity of his passion and arched up against him in a haze of greedy pleasure. Her fingers flew along the buttons of his shirt, baring his muscled chest to her touch. She wanted more. She wanted to see all of him. He pulled her sweater over her head and stripped off her bra.

“Pat…”

He looked at her with eyes black from desire. “Megan…”

“The baby’s crying.”

“What?”

“The baby’s crying!”

“Oh, hell. I don’t believe this. Let him cry.” He kissed her hard on the mouth. Halfway through the kiss he opened his eyes and found her staring at him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, practically screaming in exasperation. “I can’t concentrate.”

Pat counted to ten, took a deep breath, and heaved himself off the bed. “Feel free to continue without me. I have a feeling this is going to take some time.”

Megan rolled her eyes. So this was motherhood, she thought. Green beans on your shirt and romantic interruptions. She pulled on her sweater, tidied her clothes and ran Pat’s hairbrush through her tangled hair.

“What’s the problem?” she asked, tiptoeing down the stairs.

Pat was cradling Timmy in his arms. “I think he’s getting a tooth.”

“Couldn’t he get it during the day? Couldn’t he get it tomorrow?”

Pat grinned. “Disappointed, huh? You’re pretty hot stuff.”

She felt her face flush.

“And you’re fun to tease,” he added, smiling. “How about some cold apple juice for Timmy and some hot chocolate for Pat?”

She clicked her heels together and gave him a snappy salute. “Aye, aye, sir.”

They sat at the kitchen table, drinking their hot chocolate while Pat fed the baby.

“It’s gone, isn’t it?” he said to her.

She nodded. Yes, the moment was gone. Probably it was all for the best, she told herself. She needed time to think. She needed to be sure she could handle a physical relationship with Pat. She didn’t believe in sex without commitment, but commitment didn’t have to mean marriage. Could there be such a thing as temporary commitment? Limited commitment? Certainly there was more involved here than simple sex. If she made love with Pat would she be strong enough to pick up the pieces when the relationship ended? It was this last thought that worried her the most.

He touched her hand. “Are you still sorry Timmy stopped us?”

She smiled. “I don’t know.”

An honest answer, he thought. It wouldn’t have been his.

She finished her cocoa and searched for her coat. “I think it’s time I went home.”

“Would you consider spending the night here?”

She let the idea roll through her mind, then sighed heavily. “No. I’d consider the loan of your car, though. I’ll drop it off on my way to work tomorrow morning.”

The next day Megan stood in the doorway of the cooper’s shop at the west end of Duke of Gloucester Street, just across from BrutonParishChurch. The air was sweet with the smell of shaved wood, a nippy breeze played in the bare tree limbs, and the tower bells pealed noontime in Bruton Parish. She watched Pat and Timmy cross the street and follow a tour group to her station. After checking everyone’s ticket, she turned to Pat and grimaced at the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. “You look awful.”

“I didn’t sleep all night. From now on I’m going to be more sympathetic to the parents of teething babies.”

Timmy was slouched in the stroller, sound asleep.

“You sure you’re not hallucinating?” she asked. “This kid’s out like a light.”

“This is the only time he sleeps. He wakes up the minute I get him in the house. I’ve been pushing him around for hours. Seems like days.”

“I wish I could help you, but I don’t get off work until five.”

“I’ll be dead by five.”

She smiled. “Try to survive. We’re scheduled to make red cabbage and cranberry sauce tonight.”

“Don’t those things come in jars?”

Her eyes widened. “What about our old fashioned Thanksgiving?”

“Maybe we should modernize it. I could cook some burgers on the barbecue and buy a bunch of pies at the supermarket. If I wait until Thursday, they’ll be on sale.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear any of this.”

“Megan Murphy, you’re a hard woman.” His gaze dropped to her chest. “Fortunately, even though you’re a hard woman, you still have a few soft spots.”

“I thought you were supposed to be tired.”

“I’m beginning to wake up.” His voice grew husky. “We have unfinished business.”

“I think so too.”

Pat’s mouth dropped open.

“After all, I’m twenty – seven years old, and I have normal biological urges and emotional needs. Just because I’m destined never to get married doesn’t mean I can’t… um, get debauched.”

“I wish I weren’t so tired. Now I’m starting to imagine things. Did you just say you wanted to get debauched?”

“Yes. The sooner the better. How about right after the red cabbage? It has to cook for three hours, anyway. It would give us something to do.”

At five o’clock Timmy was sitting in his high chair, gnawing on his drool – soaked blanket while Pat called out for a pizza.

“Listen kid,” Pat said, returning to the table, “you’ve got to help me out here. I’ve got a long night ahead of me. I’ve got to debauch Megan for three hours. I’m gonna need some quiet.” He was going to need more than quiet, he thought. He was going to need a transfusion. He was out on his feet.

Timmy blinked and pounded his tray table. His face turned red and crinkled, and he began to whimper. “Mum, mum, mum,” he cried.

“Poor kid.” Pat lifted Timmy out of the chair.

“Teething and no mum, mum, mum to comfort you.”

Even if Mum returned, Pat wasn’t so sure he wanted to entrust Timmy to her care. Not even a phone call all this time she’d been gone. Not even a letter. Not his idea of a loving mother.

Megan and the pizza delivery boy arrived at Pat’s house simultaneously.

“Deliveries for Patrick Hunter,” she announced. “One pizza and a strumpet to go.”

“Hear that, Tim. They sent us a strumpet with our pizza. What do you suppose we should do with it?” Pat paid for the pizza and handed Timmy over to Megan. “Timmy says we should have the strumpet for dessert. What do you think?”

“I think I’ll take a shower.”

“I’ll put the pizza away. We can eat it tomorrow.”

“Fine with me,” Megan commented as she sashayed from the room.

When Megan got out of the shower she found the bedroom candles lit and the comforter turned down. The stairs creaked, and Pat walked into the room, carrying two crystal brandy snifters.

“Timmy’s asleep,” he said. “The tooth has broken through the gum. I think he’ll be okay now.”

He handed her a glass. “I’ve warmed some brandy for us.” He took a sip from his own glass and set it on the night table. “Are you sure, Meg?”

Megan just looked at him. How could you ever be sure? she wondered. She’d thought she was sure with David. Look where that had gotten her. No guarantees, she told herself, but this felt right. She liked and respected Pat… and she might as well admit it, she’d fallen for him. She didn’t want to run away.

The night before, she’d stood looking at the plastic bag hanging in her closet. She’d broken out in a cold sweat at the memories it had provoked, but that hadn’t changed her feelings for Pat. It would be terrible to ruin something beautiful and special because of that bag, she’d thought. She’d take a chance and go one step at a time.

“You have beets in your hair,” she said. “Why don’t you take a shower, and I’ll get comfy.” She waited until the bathroom door clicked closed, then dropped her towel and slid between the cool sheets. She tucked the comforter under her arms and listened to the water spraying against the stall door. It was a nice, intimate sound. A husbandly, loving sound.

The water stopped, and moments later Pat emerged, wearing a short royal – blue terrycloth robe. He sat on the edge of the bed and kissed her. “Mmmm,” he said. “Brandy.”

“I toasted you while you were in the bathroom.”

“What did you say?”

“To Pat, the cute pediatrician.”

He made a face. “That’s not very romantic.”

“Okay, then youdo the toast.”

He thought a moment. “To Tibbles, for bringing you to me.”

“To Tibbles.” She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing the comforter to slip below her breasts.

His hands skimmed along her neck and her shoulders, and down her arms. She’d finally come to him, and he wanted to please her, protect her, comfort her, cuddle her. He was overwhelmed by the loving feelings flooding through him, barely able to breathe, wanting to cover her with kisses.

Megan writhed under his touch. She moaned and arched her back as his fingers caressed and explored.

Afterward she lay cradled in his arms, under the down comforter, watching the candles burn low in the pewter candlesticks. She hadn’t made a mistake this time. This time everything was right. She belonged here, in his bed, in his arms. She smiled at his even breathing, delighting in the fact that he was asleep and she was awake. It gave her a chance to enjoy him in a more quiet, contemplative fashion. This was nice, she thought. Very, very nice.