Wolfe Wanting Read Online Free Page B

personally don't like living there, either,” she confessed. “That's why I jumped at the excuse to come home for a while.”
    “You've lost me,” Royce said, in obvious confusion. “Jumped at what excuse?”
    “To house-sit for my parents while they're away.” She smiled, and explained, “My parents left three weeks ago on a world cruise. They'll be gone a year.”
    “A whole year!”
    “Yes. Wild, huh?”
    “It sounds great.” Royce chuckled. “I wish I could talk my mother into something like that.”
    “Your mother's alone?” Megan asked, interested, but still conscious of playing for time, keeping the moment of truth at bay for a little longer.
    “Yeah.” Royce exhaled. “We lost my dad almost two years ago.” He looked pensive for a moment, and then he mused aloud, “Maybe I'll talk to my brothers about all of us chipping in on a cruise vacation for Mom, if only for a week or two.”
    “I always wanted a brother.” Megan's voice held a note of wistful yearning. “How many do you have?”
    “Three,” he said, laughing. “And we were a handful for my mother. Still are, at times.”
    “Sounds like fun.” Megan sighed in soft, unconscious longing. “If I had a brother, he would...” Her voice faded, and she stared into space through eyes tight and hot, yearning for a brother, her father, someone to be there for her, hold her, protect her, tell her she was safe.
    There was a moment of stillness. Then a blur of movement on the bed near her hip caught her eye. Blinking, Megan lowered her gaze and focused on the broad male hand resting, palm up, on the mattress. Without thought or consideration, she slid her palm onto his. His fingers flexed and closed around hers, swallowing her hand within the comforting protection of his.
    A sense of sheer masculine strength enveloped Megan. Not a threatening, intimidating strength, but an unstated, soothing I'm-here-for-you strength, the strength she needed now, when her own had been so thoroughly, horribly decimated.
    Megan blinked again, touched, and grateful for the gentle offering from this gentle giant. Unaware of her own flicker of power, she gripped his hand, hard, hanging on for sanity's sake to the solid anchor, seeking a measure of stability in her suddenly unstable world.
    “It may be easier to get it over with.”
    Royce's soft advice echoed, joined forces with her own earlier silent demand.
    “Yes.” Megan's voice was little more than a breathless whisper. “I have friends who own a getaway place in the mountains,” she began, steadily enough. “They called me up yesterday, said they had come in for the weekend, and invited me to meet them for dinner at the French Chalet. You know where that is?” She met his eyes; they were fixed on her face.
    “Yes.” Royce nodded. “In the mountains, along that side road you shot out of onto the highway in front of me.”
    “Did I?” Megan swallowed. “I...I never saw you.”
    “I know...now.” His smile was faint, but encouraging. “Please, go on.”
    “We had a great reunion, and a lovely dinner.” She paused, and then rushed on. “I had two glasses of wine, but that's all, only the two small glasses.”
    “Easy.” His tone soothed. “I got the results of your blood-alcohol test.”
    Megan released the breath she'd been holding, relieved to know that at least she wouldn't be facing a drunk-driving citation in addition to yesterday's experience.
    “Continue,” he said gently.
    “After dinner, my friends decided to stay for the music, do a little dancing. I...I was tired, and said I'd pass on the entertainment. I left...and...” Megan shut her eyes as memory swirled, filling her mind with a replayed image. “The parking lot was already filled when I'd arrived, and I had to park way in the back, at the edge of the forest,” she explained in a reedy whisper. “But when I left, the lot had emptied out. My car was the only one back there.”
    Megan hesitated, drawing in short, panting