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Megan's Mate

Nora Roberts

  Megan’s Mate, by Nora Roberts

  The Calhouns # 5


  The Calhous had given sister-in-law Megan O'Riley and her young son a new life. All she wanted now was to put her shameful past behind her -so she buried her passions beneath businesslike eficiency and buttoned-up reserve and vowed never, ever, to let her heart lead her astray again.

  Rugged family friend Nathaniel Fury se this course for MEgan the day they first met -and all her resistance could not divert him. But how on hearth was he to get past her formidable defenses and teach her to love again?

  Chapter 1

  She wasn't a risk-taker. She was always absolutely sure a step was completed before she took the next. It was part of her personality—at least it had been for nearly ten years. She'd trained herself to be practical, to be cautious. Megan O'Riley was a woman who double-checked the locks at night.

  To prepare for the flight from Oklahoma to Maine, she had meticulously packed carry-on bags for her­self and her son, and had arranged for the rest of their belongings to be shipped. It was foolish, she thought, to waste time at baggage claim.

  The move east wasn't an impulse. She had told her­self that dozens of times during the past six months. It was both a practical and an advantageous step, not only for herself, but for Kevin, too. The adjustment shouldn't be too difficult, she thought as she glanced over to the window seat where her son was dozing. They had family in Bar Harbor, and Kevin had been beside himself with excitement ever since she'd told him she was considering moving near his uncle and his half brother and sister. And cousins, she thought. Four new babies had been born since she and Kevin had first flown to Maine, to attend her brother's wed­ding to Amanda Calhoun.

  She watched him sleep, her little boy. Not so little anymore, she realized. He was nearly nine. It would be good for him to be a part of a big family. The Calhouns were generous, God knew, with their affec­tion.

  She would never forget how Suzanna Calhoun Du-mont, now Bradford, had welcomed her the year be­fore. Even knowing that Megan had been Suzanna's husband's lover just prior to Suzanna's marriage, had borne Baxter Dumont a child, Suzanna had been warm and open.

  Of course, Megan was a poor example of the classic other woman. She hadn't known Suzanna even ex­isted when she fell for Baxter. She'd been only seven­teen, naive, and ready to believe all the promises and the vows of undying love. No, she hadn't known Bax was engaged to Suzanna Calhoun.

  When she'd given birth to Baxter's child, he'd been on his honeymoon. He had never seen or acknowl­edged the son Megan O'Riley had borne him.

  Years later, when fate tossed Megan's brother, Sloan, and Suzanna's sister Amanda together, the story had come out.

  Now, through the twists and turns of fate, Megan and her son would live in the house where Suzanna and her sisters had grown up. Kevin would have fam­ily—a half brother and sister, cousins, and a houseful of aunts and uncles. And what a house.

  The Towers, Megan mused. The glorious old stone structure Kevin still called a castle. She wondered what it would be like to live there, to work there. Now that the renovations on The Towers Retreat were com­pleted, a large portion of the house served as a hotel. A St. James hotel, she added thoughtfully, the brain­storm of Trenton St. James III, who had married the youngest Calhoun, Catherine.

  St. James hotels were known worldwide for their quality and class. The offer to join the company as head accountant had, after much weighing and mea­suring, simply been too good to resist.

  And she was dying to see her brother, Sloan, the rest of the family, The Towers itself.

  If she was nervous, she told herself it was foolish to be. The move was a very practical, very logical step. Her new title, accounts manager, soothed frustrated ambitions, and though money had never been a prob­lem, her new salary didn't hurt the ego, either.

  And most important of all, she would have more time to spend with Kevin.

  As the approach for landing was announced, Me­gan reached over, brushed a hand through Kevin's hair. His eyes, dark and sleepy, blinked open.

  “Are we there yet?”

  “Just about. Put your seat back up. Look, you can see the bay.”

  “We're going to go boating, right?” If he'd been fully awake, he might have remembered he was too old to bounce on his seat. But he bounced now, his face pressed to the window in his excitement. “And see whales. We'll go on Alex's new dad's boat.”

  The idea of boating made her stomach turn, but she smiled gamely. “You bet we will.”

  “And we're really going to live in that castle?” He turned back to her, her beautiful boy with his golden skin and tousled black hair.

  “You'll have Alex's old room.”

  “And there's ghosts.” He grinned, showing gaps where baby teeth had been.

  “So they say. Friendly ones.”

  “Maybe not all of them.” At least Kevin hoped not. “Alex says there's lots of them, and sometimes they moan and scream. And last year a man fell right out of the tower window and broke all his bones on the rocks.”

  She shuddered, knowing that part was sterling truth. The Calhoun emeralds, discovered a year be­fore, had drawn out more than a legend and ro­mance. They'd drawn out a thief and a murderer.

  “That's over with now, Kevin. The Towers is safe.”

  “Yeah.” But he was a boy, after all, and hoped for at least a little danger.

  There was another boy who was already plotting adventures. It felt as though he'd been waiting for­ever at the airport gate for his brother to arrive. Alex had one hand in his mother's, the other in Jenny's— because, as his mother had told him, he was the old­est and had to keep his sister close.

  His mother was holding the baby, his brand-new brother. Alex could hardly wait to show him off.

  “Why aren't they here yet?”

  “Because it takes time for people to get off the plane and out the gate.”

  “How come ifs called a gate?” Jenny wanted to know. “It doesn't look like a gate.”

  “I think they used to have gates, so they still call them that.” It was the best Suzanna could come up with after a frazzling half hour at the airport with three children in tow.

  Then the baby cooed and made her smile.

  “Look, Mom! There they are!”

  Before Suzanna could respond, Alex had broken away and made a beeline toward Kevin, Jenny hot on his heels. She winced as they barely missed plowing into other passengers, then raised a resigned hand to wave at Megan.

  “Hi!” Alex, having been schooled in airport pro­cedure by his mother, manfully took Kevin's carryon. “I'm supposed to take this 'cause we're picking you up.” It bothered him a little that, even though his mother claimed he was growing like a weed, Kevin was still taller.

  “Have you still got the fort?”

  “We got the one at the big house,” Alex told him. “And we got a new one at the cottage. We live at the cottage.”

  “With our dad,” Jenny piped up. “We got new names and everything. He can fix anything, and he built me a new bedroom.”

  “It has pink curtains,” Alex said with a sneer.

  Knowing a brawl was dangerously close, Suzanna neatly stepped between her two children. “How was your flight?” She bent down, kissed Kevin, then straightened to kiss Megan.

  “It was fine, thanks.” Megan still didn't know quite how to respond to Suzanna's easy affection. There were still times she wanted to shout, I slept with your husband. Don't you understand? Maybe he wasn't your husband yet, and I didn't know he would be, but facts are facts. “A little delayed,” she said instead. “I hope you haven't been waiting long.”

  “Hours,” Alex claimed.

  “Thirty minutes,” S
uzanna corrected with a laugh. “How about the rest of your stuff?”

  “I had it shipped. This is it for now.” Megan tapped her garment bag. Unable to resist, she peeked down at the bright-eyed baby in Suzanna's arms. He was all pink and smooth, with the dark blue eyes of a new­born and a shock of glossy black hair. She felt the foolish smile that comes over adults around babies spread over her face as he waved an impossibly small fist under her nose.

  “Oh, he's beautiful. So tiny.”

  “He's three weeks old,” Alex said importantly. “His name is Christian.”

  “ 'Cause that was our great-grandfather's name,” Jenny supplied. “We have new cousins, too. Bianca and Cordelia—but we call her Delia—and Ethan.”

  Alex rolled his eyes. “Everybody had babies.”

  “He's nice,” Kevin decided after a long look. “Is he my brother, too?”

  “Absolutely,” Suzanna said, before Megan could respond. “I'm afraid you've got an awfully big fam­ily now.”

  Kevin gave her a shy look and touched a testing fin­ger to Christian's waving fist. “I don't mind.”

  Suzanna smiled over at Megan. “Want to trade?”

  Megan hesitated a moment, then gave in. “I'd love to.” She cradled the baby while Suzanna took the garment bag. “Oh, Lord.” Unable to resist, she nuz­zled. “It's easy to forget how tiny they are. How wonderful they smell. And you...” As they walked through the terminal, she took a good look at Suzanna. “How can you look so terrific, when you had a baby only three weeks ago?”

  “Oh, bless you. I've been feeling like such a frump. Alex, no running.”

  “Same goes, Kevin. How's Sloan taking to father­hood?” Megan wanted to know. “I hated not coming out when Mandy had the baby, but with selling the house and getting things in order to make the move, I just couldn't manage it.”

  “Everyone understood. And Sloan's a terrific daddy. He'd have Delia strapped on his back twenty-four hours a day if Amanda let him. He designed this incredible nursery for the babies. Window seats, cub­byholes, wonderful built-in cupboards for toys. Delia and Bianca share it, and when C.C. and Trent are in town—which, since The Retreat opened, is more of­ten than not—Ethan's in there, too.”

  “It's wonderful that they'll all grow up together.” She looked at Kevin, Alex and Jenny, thinking as much about them as about the babies.

  Suzanna understood perfectly. “Yes, it is. I'm so glad you're here, Megan. It's like getting another sis­ter.” She watched Megan's lashes lower. Not quite ready for that, Suzanna surmised, and switched sub­jects. “And it's going to be a huge relief to hand over the books to you. Not only for The Retreat, but for the boat business, too.”

  “I'm looking forward to it.”

  Suzanna stopped by a new minivan, unlocked the doors. “Pile in,” she told the kids, then slipped the baby out of Megan's arms. “I hope you say that after you get a look at the ledgers.” Competently she strapped the baby into his car seat. “I'm afraid Holt's a pathetic record keeper. And Nathaniel...”

  “Oh, that's right. Holt has a partner now. What did Sloan tell me? An old friend?”

  “Holt and Nathaniel grew up together on the is­land. Nathaniel moved back a few months ago. He used to be in the merchant marine. There you go, sweetie.” She kissed the baby, then shot an eagle eye over the rest of the children to make sure seat belts were securely buckled. She clicked the sliding door into place, then rounded the hood as Megan took the passenger seat. “He's quite a character,” Suzanna said mildly. “You'll get a kick out of him.”

  The character was just finishing up an enormous lunch of fried chicken, potato salad and lemon me­ringue pie. With a sigh of satisfaction, he pushed back from the table and eyed his hostess lustfully.

  “What do I have to do to get you to marry me, darling?”

  She giggled, blushed and waved a hand at him. “You're such a tease, Nate.”

  “Who's teasing?” He rose, grabbed her fluttering hand and kissed it lavishly. She always smelted like a woman—soft, lush, glorious. He winked and skim­med his lips up to nibble on her wrist. “You know I'm crazy about you, Coco.”

  Cordelia Calhoun McPike gave another delighted giggle, then patted his cheek. “About my cooking.”

  “That, too.” He grinned when she slipped away to pour him coffee. She was a hell of a woman, he thought. Tall, stately, striking. It amazed him that some smart man hadn't scooped up the widow Mc­Pike long ago. “Who do I have to fight off this week?”

  “Now that The Retreat's open, I don't have time for romance.” She might have sighed over it if she wasn't so pleased with her life. All her darling girls were married and happy, with babies of their own. She had grandnieces and grandnephews to spoil, nephews-in-law to coddle, and, most surprising of all, a full-fledged career as head chef for the St. James Towers Retreat. She offered Nathaniel the coffee and, be­cause she caught him eyeing the pie, cut him another slice.

  “You read my mind.”

  Now she did sigh a little. There was nothing quite so comforting to Coco as watching a man enjoy her food. And he was some man. When Nathaniel Fury rolled back into town, people had noticed. Who could over­look tall, dark and handsome? Certainly not Coco McPike. Particularly not when the combination came with smoky gray eyes, a cleft chin and wonderfully golden skin over sharp cheekbones—not to mention considerable charm.

  The black T-shirt and jeans he wore accented an athletic, rangy body—broad shoulders, muscular arms, narrow hips.

  Then there was that aura of mystery, a touch of the exotic. It went deeper than his looks, though the dark eyes and the waving mane of deep mahogany hair was exotic enough. It was a matter of presence, she sup­posed, the culmination of what he'd done and what had touched him in all those years he traveled to for­eign ports.

  If she'd been twenty years younger... Well, she thought, patting her rich chestnut hair, maybe ten.

  But she wasn't, so she had given Nathaniel the place in her heart of the son she'd never had. She was determined to find the right woman for him and see him settled happily. Like her beautiful girls.

  Since she felt she had personally arranged the ro­mances and resulting unions of all four of her nieces, she was confident she could do the same for Nathan­iel.

  “I did your chart last night,” she said casually, and checked the fish stew she had simmering for tonight's menu.

  “Oh, yeah?” He scooped up more pie. God, the woman could cook.

  “You're entering a new phase of your life, Nate.”

  He'd seen too much of the world to totally dismiss astrology—or any thing else. So he smiled at her. “I'd say you're on target there, Coco. Got myself a busi­ness, a house on land, retired my seabag.”

  “No, this phase is more personal.” She wiggled her slim brows. “It has to do with Venus.”

  He grinned at that. “So, are you going to marry me?”

  She wagged a finger at him. “You're going to say that to someone, quite seriously, before the summer's over. Actually, I saw you falling in love twice. I'm not quite sure what that means.” Her forehead wrinkled as she considered. “It didn't really seem as if you'd have to choose, though there was quite a bit of inter­ference. Perhaps even danger.”

  “If a guy falls for two women, he's asking for trou­ble.” And Nathaniel was content, at least for the mo­ment, to have no females in his life. Women simply didn't come without expectations, and he planned to fulfill none but his own. “And since my heart already belongs to you...” He got up to go to the stove and kiss her cheek.

  The tornado blew in without warning. The kitchen door slammed open, and three shrieking whirlwinds spun through.

  “Aunt Coco! They're here!”

  “Oh, my.” Coco pressed a hand to her speeding heart. “Alex, you took a year off my life.” But she smiled, studying the dark-eyed boy beside him. “Can this be Kevin? You've grown a foot! Don't you have a kiss for Aunt Coco?”

  “Yes, ma'am.” He went forward dutifully,
still un­sure of his ground. He was enveloped against soft breasts, in soft scents. It eased his somewhat nervous stomach.

  “We're so glad you're here.” Coco's eyes teared up sentimentally. “Now the whole family's in one place. Kevin, this is Mr. Fury. Nate, my grandnephew.”

  Nathaniel knew the story, how the scum Baxter Dumont had managed to get some naive kid pregnant shortly before he married Suzanna. The boy was eye­ing him now, nervous but contained. Nathaniel real­ized Kevin knew the story, as well—or part of it.

  “Welcome to Bar Harbor.” He offered his hand, which Kevin took politely.

  “Nate runs the boat shop and stuff with my dad.” The novelty of saying “my dad” had yet to wear thin with Alex. “Kevin wants to see whales,” he told Na­thaniel. “He comes from Oklahoma, and they don't have any. They hardly have any water at all.”

  “We've got some.” Kevin automatically defended his homeland. “And we've got cowboys,” he added, one-upping Alex. “You don't have any of those.”

  “Uh-huh.” This from Jenny. “I got a whole cow­boy suit.”

  “Girl,” Alex corrected. “It's a cowgirl, 'cause you're a girl.”

  “It is not.”

  “Is too.”

  Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Is not.”

  “Well, I see everything's normal in here.” Suzanna entered, aiming a warning look at both of her chil­dren. “Hello, Nate. I didn't expect to see you here.”

  “I got lucky.” He slipped an arm around Coco's shoulders. “Spent an hour with my woman.”

  “Flirting with Aunt Coco again?” But Suzanna noted that his gaze had already shifted. She remem­bered that look from the first time they'd met. The way the gray eyes measured, assessed. Automatically she put a hand on Megan's arm. “Megan O'Riley, Nathaniel Fury, Holt's partner—and Aunt Coco's latest conquest.”

  “Nice to meet you.” She was tired, Megan real­ized. Had to be, if that clear, steady gaze put her back up. She dismissed him, a little too abruptly for polite­ness, and smiled at Coco. “You look wonderful.”

  “Oh, and here I am in my apron. I didn't even freshen up.” Coco gave her a hard, welcoming hug. “Let me fix you something. You must be worn-out after the flight.”

  “Just a little.”

  “We took the bags up, and I put Christian in the nursery.” While Suzanna herded the children to the table and chatted, Nathaniel took a good long survey of Megan O'Riley.

  Cool as an Atlantic breeze, he decided. A little frazzled and unnerved at the moment, he thought, but not willing to show it. The peach-toned skin and long, waving strawberry blond hair made an eye-catching combination.

  Nathaniel usually preferred women who were dark and sultry, but there was something to be said for all that rose and gold. She had blue eyes, the color of a calm sea at dawn. Stubborn mouth, he mused, though it softened nicely when she smiled at her son.

  A bit on the skinny side, he thought as he finished off his coffee. Needed some of Coco's cooking to help her fill out. Or maybe she just looked skinny—and prim—because she wore such severely tailored jacket and slacks.