The Bachelor's Baby (Bachelor Auction Book 3) by Dani Collins Page B
Authors: Dani Collins
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mean, would I just live at your place or—?”
His brows went up and his chin went down. His voice was firm, but husked with passionate memories. “We damned near set the bed on fire, Meg. It would be a real marriage.”
She blushed. Hard. An all over blush like she hadn’t suffered in a very long while.
Into the thick atmosphere of their recollected carnality, light fast footsteps approached and a rapid knock tattooed the door.
Meg shot a look at it, desperate for an interruption. “Yes?”
Petra pushed in with a springing step. “Ethan is the only one who doesn’t know. We’ve been keeping Mom’s secret for weeks and I’m dying . If you don’t want to come in and tell him, can I? Pleeeeeze?” She wrung her hands with teenaged melodrama.
“I’ll come in,” Meg said and glanced at Linc’s dismayed scowl. “Come have a bowl of stew,” she urged, thinking they both needed to decompress. “Blake will want to see that we’re not killing each other.”
“We already set places for both of you. I’ll tell them you’re on your way.” Petra ran back to the house.
Linc grabbed his jacket and stepped outside to put on his boots, not bothering to tie them. Before they left the porch, he caught her arm. “Think about it,” he said.
Meg was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it.
Chapter Eight
‡
M eg was combing out her hair after her shower when she heard voices outside. She was only wearing a towel, but squinted against the sparkle of morning sun off the fresh snow and saw Linc handing something to Blake.
Blake said, “If she’s not there, she’s in the house,” and pointed at the spa.
Yikes! Meg scrambled into underwear and was trying to jiggle herself into her skinny jeans, thinking, Weight gain already? When there was a knock on the door.
“Just a sec!” She managed to get a bra snapped on—she really needed a new one. Her breasts were way too sensitive to put up with this. Finally a waffle weave long-sleeved shirt in pale pink went over her head and she hustled barefoot to the door.
“Hi,” she said, breathless and a little apprehensive. They’d had a civilized meal last night. Liz and the kids had carried most of the conversation. Ethan hadn’t been able to stop grinning, sending more than one, “ Really? ” at his Auntie Meg.
That and Linc’s genuine appreciation for the help with the roof had dissipated the worst of the undercurrents. Linc hadn’t lingered, saying he still had a lot to do at home. He’d promised to call her, his expression steadfast and significant as he left, as if silently reminding her to think about it .
Meg had gone to bed with fantasies of romance and lovemaking and heartfelt declarations sneaking stealthily into her dreams. So silly. She had to be more grounded and realistic about this, not mentally practicing her Mrs. Lincoln Brady signature.
“Hey.” The corner of his mouth pulled into a half-smile as she opened the door, like he was caught off guard, but was pleased by the sight of her. His grin made her heart skip. “I found a tool that wasn’t mine,” he said, thumbing to where he’d spoken to Blake near the barn. “I brought it back and now I’m heading into town for some breakfast. Care to join me?”
“I can make you breakfast—” she started to offer.
“I need groceries and have a few errands. And I have to be back by noon. Hay’s coming, but I owe you a date, so…”
For some reason, that made her snort. “Kind of late for that, isn’t it?”
“You’re the one who told me I should. Date,” he clarified. A glint in his eyes sent her right back to lying beside him in his bed, skin to skin, her guard all the way down because she’d already known how their relationship would end.
Except it hadn’t. Wouldn’t.
His remark yesterday about their already being in a relationship had yanked through her consciousness again and again last night, as she’d tried to envision what her new life in
His brows went up and his chin went down. His voice was firm, but husked with passionate memories. “We damned near set the bed on fire, Meg. It would be a real marriage.”
She blushed. Hard. An all over blush like she hadn’t suffered in a very long while.
Into the thick atmosphere of their recollected carnality, light fast footsteps approached and a rapid knock tattooed the door.
Meg shot a look at it, desperate for an interruption. “Yes?”
Petra pushed in with a springing step. “Ethan is the only one who doesn’t know. We’ve been keeping Mom’s secret for weeks and I’m dying . If you don’t want to come in and tell him, can I? Pleeeeeze?” She wrung her hands with teenaged melodrama.
“I’ll come in,” Meg said and glanced at Linc’s dismayed scowl. “Come have a bowl of stew,” she urged, thinking they both needed to decompress. “Blake will want to see that we’re not killing each other.”
“We already set places for both of you. I’ll tell them you’re on your way.” Petra ran back to the house.
Linc grabbed his jacket and stepped outside to put on his boots, not bothering to tie them. Before they left the porch, he caught her arm. “Think about it,” he said.
Meg was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it.
Chapter Eight
‡
M eg was combing out her hair after her shower when she heard voices outside. She was only wearing a towel, but squinted against the sparkle of morning sun off the fresh snow and saw Linc handing something to Blake.
Blake said, “If she’s not there, she’s in the house,” and pointed at the spa.
Yikes! Meg scrambled into underwear and was trying to jiggle herself into her skinny jeans, thinking, Weight gain already? When there was a knock on the door.
“Just a sec!” She managed to get a bra snapped on—she really needed a new one. Her breasts were way too sensitive to put up with this. Finally a waffle weave long-sleeved shirt in pale pink went over her head and she hustled barefoot to the door.
“Hi,” she said, breathless and a little apprehensive. They’d had a civilized meal last night. Liz and the kids had carried most of the conversation. Ethan hadn’t been able to stop grinning, sending more than one, “ Really? ” at his Auntie Meg.
That and Linc’s genuine appreciation for the help with the roof had dissipated the worst of the undercurrents. Linc hadn’t lingered, saying he still had a lot to do at home. He’d promised to call her, his expression steadfast and significant as he left, as if silently reminding her to think about it .
Meg had gone to bed with fantasies of romance and lovemaking and heartfelt declarations sneaking stealthily into her dreams. So silly. She had to be more grounded and realistic about this, not mentally practicing her Mrs. Lincoln Brady signature.
“Hey.” The corner of his mouth pulled into a half-smile as she opened the door, like he was caught off guard, but was pleased by the sight of her. His grin made her heart skip. “I found a tool that wasn’t mine,” he said, thumbing to where he’d spoken to Blake near the barn. “I brought it back and now I’m heading into town for some breakfast. Care to join me?”
“I can make you breakfast—” she started to offer.
“I need groceries and have a few errands. And I have to be back by noon. Hay’s coming, but I owe you a date, so…”
For some reason, that made her snort. “Kind of late for that, isn’t it?”
“You’re the one who told me I should. Date,” he clarified. A glint in his eyes sent her right back to lying beside him in his bed, skin to skin, her guard all the way down because she’d already known how their relationship would end.
Except it hadn’t. Wouldn’t.
His remark yesterday about their already being in a relationship had yanked through her consciousness again and again last night, as she’d tried to envision what her new life in
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