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pessimistic. Now, knock it off. You don’t remember, but if there’s one thing we do well...it’s talk. About anything.”

      To prove his point, he picked up one of the papers delivered with breakfast and tossed it into Megan’s lap. “So let’s get this ball rolling. Check the headlines and then give me the first thing that comes to mind.”

      * * *

      “You are so cheating!” Megan accused, her laughter doing little to back up the finger she jabbed at Connor’s chest.

      The finger he then grabbed and used to tow her off the knees she been perched on. And suddenly she was tucked in the small crease between Connor’s half-sprawled form and the back of the couch. Again.

      And again, she planted her palm on the center of his chest, refusing to admit how tempting it was to simply stay there, and pushed herself up.

      Connor shook his head, all who, me? “Cheating? We’re talking.”

      She shot him a skeptical look, not buying his wide-eyed-innocent routine for one minute. That he would even try it with a mouth like his was almost too much to bear. “Sure we are. Talking about our views on education. A topic we have remarkably similar beliefs on.”

      Another wry smile twisted his lips. “So I’d like our kids to live at home, attending private school. And you agree. What’s the problem?”

      “Mmm-hmm. And before schooling, extreme-adventure sports. Funny topic to spring up out of the blue. And so coincidental you would be of the same mind regarding risks of that nature being off the table once a child enters the picture.”

      “I told you, we have a tremendous amount in common.”

      “Yeah, and you’ve worked it all into this ‘casual’ conversation over the last couple hours—”

      “Come on, now, sweetheart, I’ve worked a lot of things into this conversation.”

      “—conveniently omitting anything we disagreed on.”

      Connor’s mouth kicked up another degree, his eyes heating in the way she’d found so startling at first, but was now beginning to look for. “Have I mentioned how sexy those smarts of yours are?”

      An unbidden belly flip had her glancing away before Connor could see how his words affected her. “I bust you for trying to play me, and this is your response?”

      “Yes.” The crook of his finger found her chin, and he pulled her back to his gaze. “But that doesn’t make what we’ve talked about any less true. I’m a motivated guy, set on making sure I don’t let something important slip through my fingers. I want you to know what I know.”

      She let out an even breath, hating the way everything Connor said made sense. Clicked, as if it was locking into some waiting place within her.

      It was crazy to think, even for a second, about buying into this.

      She’d sworn she wouldn’t do it again. Wouldn’t take another risk. And this...this was a risk unlike any she’d faced before. But staring into Connor’s deep brown eyes, all she could think was, what if this time the reward was worth it?

      A knock sounded from the front door, and Connor broke the eye contact to check his watch and then push up from the couch. “Got to be your dress.”

      A moment later a gleaming brass cart was parked in the entry and Connor was verifying the appointment for a stylist to do Megan’s hair and makeup. She’d tried to stop him, but he’d dismissed her protests, calling it a perk of being Mrs. Reed...said she should get used to it. Or at the very least use it while she had it.

      Fair enough. She’d given in. And now she had to admit she was looking forward to letting someone else work on her hair. In all honesty, her plate felt a little full already with the business of this marriage on it. And the herculean task of making her hair look good just wasn’t something she had room for.

      The door shut, and Connor, all tapered cut and balanced perfection, was closing in again. The skin along her shoulders began to tingle in reckless anticipation of that back-to-hard-chest-and-stomach stance he seemed to favor. And then he was there, running a thumb down the column of her neck. “Would you feel better if I shared a few points of dissent?”

      Casting a glance over her shoulder, she saw his eyes were serious. And so close.

      “Yes, I would.”

      Looking back at the dress before she turned around completely and did something monumentally stupid—which, considering her marital status, was really saying a lot—she pulled open the thin, protective plastic. Stroked her fingers over the silver, above-the-knee sheath.

      Connor cleared his throat. “Camp.”

      She shot another look back. “What?”

      “I don’t like the idea of sending the kids away for extended periods of time.”

      “But camp’s a treat. Once they’re old enough, of course. They have so many incredible programs out there. Nature camps. Space camps—”

      “Yeah, arts, football, gymnastics, and everything else a little boy or girl could be interested in.” Shoving a hand through the dark silk of his hair, he let out a sigh. “I still don’t like the idea, but I’ve given on the point already.”

      Her brows lifted along with the corners of her mouth as she turned to face him completely. “Wow. Any other small victories I should know about?”

      “Christmas at home. Every year. All of us. Period.”

      She let out a small gasp, her hand moving to her heart in genuine shock. “You fought against...Christmas?”

      Those dark eyes softened, crinkling at the corners. “Please wipe the ‘he hates puppies’ look off your face. I didn’t want to count out a trip somewhere exotic. But your arguments were compelling, so it was a compromise easy to make.”

      Wow, he was so—

      Wait.

      Her eyes narrowed on him. “And now you’re showing me how reasonable you are with all your willing concessions. Do you ever stop?”

      Yes, she was fully aware of just how unreasonable her response to this man giving her exactly what she’d asked for was. But based on the twisted smile playing on his lips, Connor didn’t seem to mind.

      “Not until I get what I want.”

      She was getting lost in his eyes, feeling herself drawn closer with every minute they spent together. “And you want me.”

      Connor leaned in, closing the distance between them until the heat of his body was licking over hers. She swayed, suddenly breathless. The palm of his left hand flattened against her spine.

      “I’ve got you.” His voice was a low rumble against her ear, the contact between them almost a kiss before he stepped back and handed her the dress. “What I want is to keep you.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

      WITH HER HAIR AND MAKEUP already done, Connor had barely gotten his arms through the sleeves of his tuxedo shirt before Megan was stepping out of the master bath again. This time decked out in the metallic-silver bridesmaid dress that left nearly the full length of her toned legs on perfect display.

      Damn.

      Megan shifted under his scrutiny, smoothing her hands over her hips with downward strokes probably intended to eke out a few millimeters of additional coverage.

      Not happening.

      “I had nothing to do with picking out this dress.”

      As if he needed her to tell him. If Megan had been picking, he imagined she’d have selected something deceptively conservative. Like the dress she’d been wearing the night before. At first glance it had looked modest enough,

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