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Waking Up Married(7)

By:Mira Lyn Kelly

Something about the way she said it had his curiosity standing     up for a stretch. “Oh, yeah—how come?”

Her hand lifted in a sort of dismissive flutter, which stopped     almost before it began. Then meeting his eyes, she said, “Sorry, it’s a little     too personal for a fake first nondate.”

Connor grinned, shrugging one shoulder. “So why not make it a         not-quite-so-fake first nondate. Or maybe a         fake first date, though if we’re already faking     it, we ought to go for a second or third date...when all the good stuff     starts.”

Her smile went wide before giving way to a laugh out of line     with the girl-next-door everything else about her. The laugh had his head     cranking around for a second take. And sure enough, when her eyes were half     closed, her lips parted for that low rolling sound of seductive abandon, he was     the one left staring.

For a second.

Before he shifted back into gear. “Seriously, I’d like to     know.”

He could see it in her eyes, in the tilt of her head and the     way her body had already started to turn away. In her mind, the decision was     made, and mentally, she was halfway to the door. Too bad.

But regardless, he didn’t want to leave her hanging after she’d     mustered the nerve to come over.

“I’ll walk you out,” he said, but she shook her head and     smiled.

“Thanks, I’ll be fine, though.”

“Fair enough. I’m Connor, by the way.” He extended his hand,     feeling like an ass offering to shake goodbye after the exchange they’d shared,     but for some reason wanting to test the contact anyway.

“Megan.” She reached across the table and met his hand with her     smaller one—and a flash of neon pink arced through the air, coming to land in     his lap.

The hand in his clenched as he looked down and read the block     lettering.

“What the—?”

Peals of laughter rang from the table where Megan had been     sitting. The bridesmaids she’d been trying to escape. Or so she’d said.

His hand tightened around hers as, leveling her with a stare,     he pulled her forward and then down into the open chair. “Sit. Now I need to know.”

Megan looked into his eyes, a thousand thoughts running through     hers before she slumped back in the chair and said, “Okay, Carter—”


She swallowed. “Connor. Right. Sorry. So here it is...”


Nine hours earlier...

“I THINK YOUR SUBCONSCIOUS is trying to tell you something.”

Megan grinned into her glass, trying not to laugh as she took     the next sip. Sweet martini goodness coated her tongue, making her wonder how     she’d gone through so much of her life without having tried one of these     white-chocolate concoctions. They were delicious.

Oh, wait...the subconscious...

“Okay, what?”

“This trip to Vegas. It’s your subconscious screaming some     deeply repressed need to take a chance. Do something crazy.”

They were back to this again. Megan shot him a knowing look,     only to find his unrepentant one on the other end. “Or, this trip is about my cousin getting married.”

“Denial is a powerful thing.”

“Forget it. I told you already. I’m not running off and     marrying you, so please stop begging.”

Carter—shoot, Connor, why couldn’t she remember!—let out a bark of     laughter. They both knew marriage wasn’t what he’d been getting at. Just as they     both knew he wasn’t actually serious.

He knew what her plans were. Had been truly interested when     she’d laid them out, explaining her choice to pursue artificial insemination via     sperm donor. And rather than back away slowly, he’d decided they both needed a     night to cut loose and have some fun. The kind without consequences. The kind     that revolved around easy conversation, harmless flirting and more drinks than     were a good idea.

Knowing it would be the last, and finding a certain comfort in     the utter lack of expectation from the man she was with, Megan agreed.

And she’d been near breathless with laughter ever since—milling     through the grand casino, stopping at one attraction and then another, caught up     in the sort of fun in which she never indulged.