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A few people turned toward the palm tree where they hid, so he motioned her toward a door that led out to a stone patio. Thankfully, she didn’t argue and followed him.
The night air was cool and clear, stars glittering as if they were part of the festivities. A puff of vapor emerged with his sigh as he faced Mary Paige, who looked up at the night sky, her features luminous in the light of the moon.
Incredibly beautifulwere the two words on his tongue, but he held them back because they seemed selfish, designed to get him what he wanted, which was this woman beside him.
Mary Paige wasn’t like Creighton, or the countless other women who had paraded through his life like accessories, taken only to complement his life.
Good lord, what a callous thought.
A mind-bending thought.
That he would see others as mere conveniences rather than people who felt, hoped, loved, and had value. God, he was desolate—an empty shell walking among the living. A perfect misanthrope. A modern-day Scrooge.
Mary Paige hadn’t been far off the mark.
“It’s beautiful out here,” she said, smiling at the sky.
“Yeah,” he said, not taking his gaze from her.
“I shouldn’t have been so judgmental earlier. You were right to call me out on it. I often forget people have opinions that aren’t the same as mine.”
He followed her lead to contemplate the world above them. “Sometimes I wonder if I argue with you on purpose. You’re gorgeous when you have that fire in your eyes, all that passion. It’s like I want to take it, taste it, feel it.” He looked at her, wanting to see her reaction to his bold statement.
Mary Paige’s eyes widened but she didn’t turn his way. “So you’re yanking my pigtails like a little boy wanting my attention. I find that hard to believe of you.”
“I don’t know why. It’s strange really. I guess your ire is better than receiving no part of you at all.”
She moved to study him, searching for something he hid far beneath the layers he’d built. “I want to understand you, Brennan, but those words make it difficult. You know I feel more for you than anger.”
“Pity?”
“Maybe. More like sympathy for what you’ve endured.” She paused, pressing her lips together. Sweet lips he wanted to taste again. “I certainly wish for more for you. Honestly, I don’t think you’re as complicated as I once thought. Quite simply, you’re scared.”
“Of you?”
She stepped closer to him. It was what he wanted, but suddenly it felt too much. He felt naked and not in a good way. “No, not me. You’re afraid of loving…and losing.”
He fixed his gaze on a crack in the base of a huge planter holding some shrub—anything to avoid her seeing too deeply into him, seeing through his bluff. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
Her touch on his jaw was the brush of angel wings. “Everyone is afraid of something.”
“Yeah?” He met her gaze. “You’ve been analyzing me? Thinking about how I lost a sister and then my parents? About how I blame that on Christmas? On God?”
Her hand stilled. “Do you blame God?”
“You think I haven’t been to therapy? Haven’t thought about why I am the way I am?” He grabbed her hand and jerked her to him, enjoying the surprise in her eyes, liking the way her mouth opened, the way she didn’t shrink back. Mary Paige wasn’t afraid of him.
He watched her breathing grow erratic, felt her heartbeat against his chest…and acknowledged the very essence of her soft body against the unyielding planes of his. This woman fit him, not like a glove, but like a well-cut dinner jacket, not too tight, not too forgiving, but perfect in every way. She balanced him, and for once in his life made him feel hopelessly inadequate.
For this woman, he wanted to be a better man.
Brennan lowered his head and kissed her. Maybe he wanted to silence her or climb back in the driver’s seat. Maybe he didn’t want her probing the parts of him that still throbbed like a bruised thumb, never easing. Or maybe he wanted to wrap her around him, make her part of him, let her become what he needed more than anything he could give voice to.
Her hands slid into his hair, and she met him, opening her mouth, giving him all she was. In true Mary Paige fashion, the kiss was generous, passionate, and enthusiastic.
His blood sang.
Somehow his hands found her delicious bottom and he pulled her closer, feeling her meld to him, knowing she could feel his heart, his erection, and maybe even his damaged soul.
