Divine Design by Mary Kay McComas Page A

consequences Connie had taken for his love of Meghan, and she was totally devoted to him.
    “Actually,” she began to confess, as they entered the elevator in her apartment building, “I harbored dreams of growing up and marrying Connie. And when Pop got old, we’d take him and move to California and leave Donald all alone,” she finished.
    “Why California?” he asked with amusement. He could almost see her as a gangly red-headed little girl, full of trouble. He pictured a real spitfire, who skulked around and plotted the destruction of the nefarious Donald.
    “California was about as far as I’d gotten in my geography lessons,” she said, grinning.
    They walked the short distance to her door, and while she fished around in her bag for her keys, he asked, “What made you decide not to marry Connie?”
    She giggled. “Well, as you know, society frowns on that sort of thing, or I might have. I had to settle for looking for his best qualities in someone else.”
    “And have you found many such virtuous men?” he asked, half-joking, half-serious.
    “A few,” she said, unlocking her door.
    “And how do I fare?”
    Meghan looked up into his face. She saw a hungry longing in his eyes and was thrilled by it. Her heart thumped painfully against her ribs while a current of tingling sensations shot through her.
    He was a lot like Connie. He was good and kind, understanding and patient, witty, and yes, forgiving and accepting. But the feelings she had toward him were of a far more sexual nature. Remembering the feel of his arms about her and the touch of his lips on hers made her knees go suddenly weak. Leaning on her door for support, she smiled stunningly and assured him, “You fare very well.”
    He smirked as his arms reached out to pull her close.
    “Good. Then the feelings are mutual,’ he murmured as his head lowered to stamp his seal of approval on her lips.
    His kiss was warm and exploring. Meghan moaned her pleasure when she realized it wasn’t going to be just a good-night peck. She raised her arms, circling them around his neck and playing with the soft half curls at his nape, as she joined in enthusiastically.
    Their ardor increased, consuming them both, and when at last they parted, they were both breathless and tense with desire.
    “Let’s go inside,” Michael whispered in a hoarse drawl.
    “Not tonight, Michael,” she said, and in response to his sidelong look, she pleaded, “I … Let’s do it right this time.”
    He studied her for several seconds. The fear was back. He wouldn’t push her, not until she could trust him enough to let their relationship progress. He sighed. “Okay, darlin’. But I think you should know I feel very right about this already.”
    “I’m sure you do,” she said with a chuckle.
    “Don’t get cute, Meghan. I’m only human,” he said with pride.

Seven
    H E CALLED HER again at the office early the next day.
    “How about lunch?” he offered, his voice cheerful and confident.
    “Fine,” she agreed, lunch sounding considerably safer than another dinner. “Where?”
    “I’ll come for you about one, and you can pick the place.”
    “Harper’s is nice for lunch, but I’ll have to meet you. I have an appointment with the Dobsons’ lawyers this morning,” she informed him. “This is such a dull business sometimes,” she complained. “Especially when I get cases like yours. I make my demands, they say okay, and it’s over. There’s just no meat to the deal.”
    “You like to dicker and get down on the floor and battle it out, I take it?” He sounded amused.
    “It is what redheads do best, you know.”
    “I’ll remember that.” He chuckled.
    Lunch was pleasant. They talked and laughed like old friends. Meghan found she could indeed relax and enjoy his company. There was a lot about him to enjoy. He had a tranquil charm and easy wit that influenced her to let down her guard.
    It wasn’t until he asked to see her again in the evening, his gray