The Engagement Project / Her Surprise Hero: The Engagement Project / Her Surprise Hero

And when Ashley came into the kitchen, Megan noticed that Paige was right behind her.

“Why are you home so early? And what are you doing here?” The first question being directed to her sister and the second to her cousin.

“Are you kidding me?” Paige responded first. “I saw the lip-lock on the terrace.”

“And I want to hear all the details,” Ashley demanded.

Megan took a long sip of her coffee, hoping the over- size mug hid the flush in her cheeks. “It was an Academy-worthy performance, wasn’t it?”

Her sister scowled as she put on the kettle for the tea she favored. “What do you mean ‘performance’?”

“Gage was there, pretending to be my boyfriend,” she reminded her sister and cousin. “He thought a kiss might further the illusion.”

“A kiss is a way of testing the waters,” Paige said. “Like dipping a toe in the ocean. You and Gage—that was a tsunami.”

“It really wasn’t that big of a deal,” she denied, while secretly agreeing that in Gage’s arms, she’d felt as if she’d been swamped by an enormous wave. The heat and hunger had crashed over her, dragging her into depths that were so far over her head she wasn’t sure she would ever find solid ground again.

But it had only been one kiss.

Despite having alluded to wanting to do that and a whole lot more, when he took her home, he simply walked her to her door, took the keys from her hand to unlock it for her, then stepped back and said “Good night, Megan.”

And she’d gone inside alone, uncertain whether she should be relieved or disappointed.

“Then you’ve been getting a lot more action than I have.” Paige’s complaint drew her attention back to the present. “Because I got seared from the heat standing on the edge of the terrace.”

“And I missed it,” Ashley grumbled.

“You’ve got your own hot-and-heavy romance,” Paige reminded her. “I’m the one who needs to live vicariously.”

“Things didn’t go well with Ben last night?” Megan asked, anxious to change the topic of conversation.

Her cousin shrugged. “He’s sexy and sweet, but there just isn’t any zing.”

Before last night, Megan wouldn’t have had a clue what she meant. She’d been attracted to other men, had experienced the stirring of desire, but nothing in the category of zing. But after last night, after being held in Gage’s arms, she definitely knew about zing.

When Megan came into the lab Monday morning, Gage noted that she’d gone back to wearing her glasses.

And the ponytail and baggy clothes.

He was a little disappointed, but not really surprised. He wasn’t sure if she felt more comfortable dressed that way, or if she deliberately downplayed her natural attractiveness so that she didn’t draw attention to herself.

If he had to guess, he would say it was the latter, and he couldn’t deny that her efforts were mostly successful. He certainly hadn’t taken much notice of her prior to their chance encounter at the shopping mall.

But now that he knew her a little better, was aware of the subtle curves hiding beneath her clothes and the unexpected passion simmering beneath her cool demeanor, he knew he would never be able to look at her the same way again.

He would never be able to look into her eyes and not remember how they’d gone all misty and soft—like lavender fog—when he’d held her in his arms. And he’d never be able to look at her mouth and not remember how soft and sweet it tasted, and how avidly it had responded to his kiss.

But if memories of their kiss had tormented him throughout the rest of the weekend, Megan gave no indication that it had even happened. As always, she was the consummate professional at work. She performed the tasks that were assigned to her, answered questions when they were asked and generally continued with her duties as usual. She never sought him out, never initiated conversation, and not once did he catch her looking in his direction—as he found himself looking in hers, a lot.

He let her continue to ignore him—as it was obvious to him that’s what she was doing—for three whole weeks. On Friday at the end of the third week, as they were clearing up in preparation of leaving for the weekend, he finally approached her.

Megan looked up from the stack of files she was sorting. “I can finish up here if you have to go.”

“Go where?”

She shrugged. “It’s a Friday night. I thought you might have plans.”

He shook his head. “The only women I’ve seen since we’ve started prepping for this trial are the clinical subjects. And you.”

“Did you lose your little black book?” she teased.

A few weeks earlier, he couldn’t have imagined that she would have teased him about anything, and he wouldn’t have guessed that she had a sense of humor. But he knew her better now—and still not nearly as well as he wanted to know her.

“It’s a BlackBerry,” he teased back, and earned one of those rare, shy smiles. “But the only reason I’m anxious to get out of here tonight is that I’m hungry.”

“Me, too,” she admitted.

“Got any plans for dinner?” he asked, deliberately casual.

“Oh, um, no,” she said. “Nothing specific. But I wasn’t fishing for an invitation or anything like that.”

“I know,” he said. “But I’m in the mood for a burger and I have a rain check to cash in.”

Megan finished unbuttoning her lab coat, hung it on the hook by the door. “Actually, I’m—”

“You’re not going to renege on your promise, are you?”

“I don’t recall making a promise.”

“Then it’s a good thing I do.”

And that’s how they ended up at The Ranch with plates overloaded with quarter-pound burgers and spicy spiral fries. They didn’t talk much while they ate, or not about anything of significance, and when Gage finally pushed his empty plate aside, he noticed that Megan had nearly cleaned hers, too.

“You have an impressive appetite for a skinny little thing,” he noted.

“I like food,” she admitted. “It just never seems to stick.”

“What else do you like?”

She nibbled on a fry. “What do you mean—like books, music, movies?”

“Sure, we can start there.”

She sipped at her cola—the regular kind, not diet. “I’ll read almost anything, though I lean toward nonfiction.”

“Music?” he prompted.

“Blues-rock.”

“Movies?”

“Anything that I don’t have to think too much about. If I’m going to spend twenty bucks, which is what it costs by the time you add a bag of popcorn and a soda to the price of the ticket, I want to enjoy it. No dark war settings or depressing social issues or complicated psychological thrillers.”

“If it was my twenty bucks, could I pick the show?”

She frowned over his question as she sipped her cola again. “Are you inviting me to a movie?”

“Well, you did spring for dinner,” he said. “And there’s a new Vin Diesel movie playing. You know the kind, with lots of car chases and big explosions and very little plot.”

“Sounds like my kind of entertainment,” she said.

“Then it’s a date.”

She was okay until he called it a date.

Grabbing a bite to eat with a coworker—even if that coworker was Gage Richmond—wasn’t a big deal. Deciding to catch a movie together because they both had nothing else to do shouldn’t have been, either. But as soon as Gage put that label on it, all of her perceptions changed, and the easy camaraderie they’d been sharing suddenly wasn’t so easy anymore.

Unfortunately, she’d already agreed, and as the movie theater was within the same shopping complex as the restaurant, she had neither the time nor the opportunity to come up with a reason to bow out. He took her hand as they walked across the parking lot and Megan tried to be as nonchalant as he was about it, as if she held hands with guys all the time, as if the casual contact didn’t make her pulse race.

Gage was standing in line at one of the automated kiosks to buy their tickets when Megan felt vibrations in her chest. At first she thought it was her heart knocking erratically against her ribs, then she remembered that her cell phone was tucked in the inside pocket of her jacket and set to vibrate.

“Excuse me,” she said to Gage, and stepped away to answer the call.

“I know you had to work late tonight,” Ashley said without preamble. “I just wondered if you could pick up some Motrin on your way home.”

“What’s wrong?” Megan asked, alerted not just by the request for the medication but the obvious strain in her sister’s voice.

“The usual,” Ashley said, then sucked in a breath, and blew it out again. “Okay, it’s hit a little bit harder than usual.”

She moved back to Gage, who had just started scrolling through the movie options on the screen. “I’ll be home in fifteen minutes,” she promised.

Gage looked up and, without any question, stepped away from the machine so the next person in line could proceed.

“Problem?” he asked.

“My sister’s not feeling well.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

She shook her head. “Thanks, but no. You can stay and watch car chases, but I have to get home.”

“Rain check?”

“That’s really not—”

He touched his finger to her lips, halting her protest.

“Rain check,” he said again, and it wasn’t a question this time.

“Okay.”

He insisted on walking her to her car, told her to take care of her sister and watched her pull out of the parking lot.

And though she was anxious to get home to Ashley, she didn’t quite manage to banish all thoughts of Gage from her mind as she drove away. And she couldn’t completely extinguish the little flicker of hope that the interest she’d seen in his eyes could be real.

At home, Megan found her sister on the sofa in the living room, curled up under a blanket and obviously in pain.

When Ashley had first been diagnosed with endometriosis, she’d been willing to try anything that might relieve the pain. It turned out that her symptoms could be treated quite successfully through the use of oral contraceptives. The problem with that, of course, was that she wouldn’t get pregnant so long as she was taking them.

Megan suspected that was why Ashley was suffering now, that she’d stopped taking her pills. It was no secret that her sister wanted a baby and while pregnancy happened easily for many women, it wouldn’t be easy for Ashley. In fact, her doctors had warned that it might not happen for her at all, but she refused to give up on the dream of someday holding a child of her own in her arms.

“Hey,” Megan said, coming into the room.

Ashley managed a weak smile as she accepted the medication and the glass of water her sister held out to her. “Thanks.”

Megan lowered herself onto the coffee table. “What’s going on, Ash? You haven’t had pain like this in years.”

Her sister dropped her gaze. “I stopped taking the Pill.”

Though it was just what she’d expected, Megan couldn’t hold back her sigh. “When? Why?”

“Just a few weeks ago. Because Trevor and I are getting married in the fall anyway and because I really want a baby.” Tears spilled onto her cheeks and she swiped at them impatiently. “And maybe because I feel him slipping away and I don’t know why, but I know if I get pregnant it will make things better.”

Megan wasn’t so sure that was the answer, but she was hardly in a position to offer relationship counseling to anyone. “Why didn’t you talk to me about this?” she asked instead.

“Because I didn’t think it was fair to always run to my little sister with my problems.”

“Forget the big and little part. You’re my sister.”

“I’m sorry I pulled you away from the lab.”

This time it was Megan who looked away. “I wasn’t actually at the lab.”

“Where were you?”

“I just went to grab a bite to eat.”

“Based on the deliberate vagueness of that response, I’m guessing you didn’t go alone,” Ashley said. “In fact, I’m guessing that you were with Gage.”

“So?”

“So … good for you.”

Megan frowned. “You’re making a big deal out of something that isn’t.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Her sister managed a smile. “I’m sorry I ruined your dinner.”

“You didn’t.” Megan jumped up when the microwave dinged, grateful for the reprieve from her sister’s questioning. She came back with a warm bean bag, which she laid gently across Ashley’s abdomen.

“Thanks.”

“Can I get you anything else?” Megan asked. “Do you want me to call Trevor?”

Ashley shook her head. “I tried calling him before I called you. I tried his office and his cell and got his voice mail both times.”

“You knew he was working late tonight,” Megan pointed out reasonably. “It makes sense that he would turn his phone off if he was with a client.”

Her sister nodded, though she didn’t look convinced. “You’re right. It’s just that he’s seemed so distracted and inaccessible over the last few weeks.”

“It’s tax season,” Megan reminded her.

“You’re right,” she said again.

“Do you want a cup of tea?” Megan asked, hoping a mug of chai and a change of subject would smooth the furrow in her sister’s brow.

Ashley shook her head. “I want to hear more about your date with Gage.”

It was a change of subject but not quite the one Megan was hoping for.

“It wasn’t a date.”

Her sister’s brows lifted. “You were having dinner with a man yummier than anything on the menu—what would you call it?”

“A burger and fries.”

Ashley shook her head. “You wouldn’t have had the nerve to ask him out again—not without some serious bribery or blackmail being involved—so he must have invited you. Which means, obviously, that he’s interested.”

“Or maybe he just didn’t want to eat alone. You said it yourself,” Megan reminded her. “Gage is like the yummiest thing on the menu—the juiciest sirloin burger with all of the fixings. I’m the pickle spear they throw on the side of the plate. No one really wants it and it’s not particularly appealing, but it takes up space.”

“That’s so not true,” Ashley objected, then sucked in her breath and gritted her teeth.

Megan, understanding that another wave of pain had hit, turned the bean bag over. “Okay?”

Ashley nodded, exhaled slowly. “How are preparations for the trial going?”

“They’re under way,” Megan said, relieved to abandon the topic of Gage Richmond for now. “We’re scheduled to begin administration of the drug to the first group next weekend.”

She didn’t often talk to her sister about her work, partly because Ashley had no interest in what she was talking about. But a couple years earlier, she’d started doing some independent research in the hope of finding a drug that would not just help alleviate the symptoms of endometriosis for women who were trying to have children but improve their chances of conception.

About a year earlier, when she’d finally made some progress, she’d taken it to her boss at Richmond Pharmaceuticals and received official approval—and a budget—to continue her research. And now the drug whose development she had spearheaded was going into the clinical-trial phase.

“When will you know if it works?” Ashley asked, obviously anxious for some good news.

“It’s hard to say,” Megan told her. “The subjects will undergo testing at prescribed intervals throughout the next twelve months.”

“A whole year?”

Megan knew her sister felt as if she’d been waiting for forever already, and to wait another twelve months seemed interminable.

“Well,” Ashley said philosophically. “At least you have a reason to look forward to going into work every day.”

“I’ve always enjoyed my job,” Megan reminded her. “But, yes, I am anxious to see the results of this trial.”

Her sister smiled. “I wasn’t referring to the trial. I was referring to you spending a lot more time with Gage Richmond.”

Megan refused to admit how much she was looking forward to that. Because she would never hear the end of it if her sister had the slightest clue about how hard and how fast her heart beat whenever Gage was near, how her knees got weak if he stood close, and how everything inside of her felt all hot and quivery if he so much as smiled at her.

No way would Megan admit any of that to her sister. She wasn’t sure she was ready to admit it even to herself.

Chapter Seven

It had been years since Gage had worried about asking a woman out on a date. Maybe he’d been spoiled in that it was rare for an invitation he’d issued—be it for dinner or dancing or a more private evening—to be refused. Or maybe he hadn’t really cared one way or the other. When he thought about calling Megan Saturday afternoon, though, he was unexpectedly apprehensive.

But he’d promised her a rain check, and he intended to deliver. Of course, she might already have plans, and he could accept that. Or she might simply not want to go out with him, but he didn’t want to acknowledge that was a possibility.

When the phone rang, he was both annoyed and relieved by the interruption. He snatched up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Gage Richmond, it must be my lucky day that I managed to catch you at home.”

The sultry feminine voice was vaguely familiar, but Gage was having trouble filling in the details. “Who is this?”

The laugh was rich and warm. “I should be offended that you have to ask, but it has been a while. It’s Norah Hennesy.”

Norah Hennesy.

Tall … dark hair … luscious curves. and very, very flexible.

They’d dated for a few months more than two years earlier, and had gone their separate ways when she grew frustrated by Gage’s refusal to commit.

“It has been a while,” he agreed.

“Much too long.”

Gage didn’t need to be hit over the head to figure out why she was calling. And while he’d occasionally rekindled affairs with ex-lovers in the past, he wasn’t in the mood to go another round in the mating game with a partner who was looking toward a radically different finish line.

“So I was thinking,” Norah continued, “that we could maybe get some dinner at Chez Henri and get reacquainted.”

Chez Henri was an exclusive and expensive French restaurant where they’d frequently dined in the past. Gage had never quite figured out if Norah liked the food as much as she liked being seen there, but he’d never objected because the restaurant was close to Norah’s apartment and dinner had inevitably led to drinks back at her place and, if he felt like staying, breakfast in the morning.

It had been a long time since he’d had … breakfast with a woman, but her offer did little to pique his interest. Or maybe it was the fact that when he tried to picture the slumberous and satisfied morning-after look in her eyes—he simply couldn’t. Because he couldn’t remember the color of her eyes. He only knew that they weren’t violet.

Whoa—where had that thought come from?

“Gage?”

He forced his attention back to the woman on the other end of the phone. “That’s a tempting offer,” he lied, “but I already have plans for tonight.”

“Oh.” He could hear the disappointment in her voice. “Maybe another time?”

“Actually, I don’t think so, Norah.”

“You’re seeing someone,” she guessed.

He started to deny it, but then he thought of Megan again. “Yeah, I am.”

“Well, then, maybe I’ll try again in a few weeks,” she said.

He frowned at her response, at this confirmation that everyone knew his reputation, and that no one ever expected his relationships to last—least of all Gage himself.

Even after he ended the call, he wondered how to define his relationship with Megan, or even if it could be called a relationship. She was a coworker, and maybe she was becoming a friend, but beneath everything else was an underlying physical attraction that was as baffling as it was intriguing.

He’d never known anyone like her—sweet and sexy and blissfully oblivious to her own appeal. And maybe it was this uniqueness that fascinated him.

Not that he had any intention of getting himself all tied up in knots over a woman just because she had eyes that haunted him in his sleep and lips that were so soft and sweet and so incredibly and passionately responsive.

No way. Especially not with the vice-presidency on the line.

He picked up the phone again and dialed her number, anyway.

Megan was caught off guard by Gage’s phone call. It was the only excuse she had for saying yes when he asked if she wanted to catch the movie they’d missed a couple of weeks earlier.

Still, she hated that she was a nervous wreck waiting for him to show up. In the lab, she wasn’t quite so intimidated by him because they were on a more equal footing. Over the past few weeks, she’d gradually become accustomed to working closely with him. But outside of the lab, she was all too aware of how completely out of her league she was with him.

“You’re not wearing your glasses,” he commented when she answered the door.

“My sister stepped on them, snapped the arm off.”

And Megan wasn’t convinced it had been an accident. Of course, Ashley denied that she’d broken them on purpose, but in the next breath she’d accused her sister of hiding behind the thick lenses and claimed she’d done her a favor by breaking them. Whether Ashley’s actions had been intentional or not, the end result was that Megan had to put her contacts in if she was going to see anything.

“How is your sister?” he asked now.

“She’s feeling much better.”

“Was it that nasty cold that’s going around?”

She shook her head. “No, it was just, uh, a female thing.”

“Oh,” Gage replied and, thankfully, left it at that.

Uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, Megan ducked her head and lifted a hand to push her glasses up. Then she remembered they weren’t there and rubbed a finger over the bridge of her nose, as if to assuage an itch. But the corners of Gage’s mouth lifted, and she knew she hadn’t fooled him.

“I don’t wear contacts very often,” she admitted. “So I keep trying to push up glasses that aren’t even there.”

“I like when you wear your contacts,” Gage said. “It’s easier to see your eyes.”

She dropped her gaze again.

“You have beautiful eyes, Megan.”

She felt her cheeks flame. “Thank you,” she managed to respond.

“And lips so soft a man can sink right into them.”

She absolutely would not get all weak and flustered just because that smooth, sexy voice tempted a woman to forget all reason. “How many lines like that have you memorized for the sole purpose of making a woman go all warm and quivery inside?”

He only smiled. “Are you all warm and quivery inside?”

She was hot and trembling and very close to melting into a puddle at his feet. Recognizing that fact, she drew in a deep, calming breath and moved away to pick up her purse. “Yes, but Vin Diesel always has that effect on me.”

Gage chuckled. “I guess that put me in my place.”

But the real problem for Megan was that his place was right beside her through the movie.

He did his best to make her comfortable, keeping the conversation light and easy while they waited for the feature to begin. It wasn’t his fault that her heart sped up when the lights dimmed, or that her pulse raced when his fingers brushed against hers inside the tub of popcorn they were sharing, or that she felt shivers down her spine when he leaned close to whisper in her ear during the movie. It wasn’t his fault, but by the time the final credits rolled up on the screen, every nerve ending in her body was tingling with awareness.

And he seemed completely unaffected by their nearness. Of course he would be—he had dated a lot of women, beautiful and sophisticated women.

Which made her again wonder: What was he doing with her?

And what had happened to the guy who was reputed to go out with a different woman every night?

Because the man she was slowly getting to know didn’t bear any resemblance to the Casanova he was reputed to be. Or maybe it was simply that he wasn’t interested in anything other than friendship with her.