Read Online Megan's Way by Melissa Foster - Free Book Online

made her heart
feel as though it might pound right through her chest, and her
breathing become rapid and hindered. She looked up into his eyes,
and something ignited between them. All of the old uneasy feelings
of desire, laden with unworthiness, rushed back to Megan as she
recalled painting the mural at Lawrence’s home so many months
ago—the way Lawrence’s presence had made her heart speed up, how
just the sound of his voice had sent the pit of her stomach into a
fury, and how neither one had been able to look the other in the
eye. Lawrence had been able to manage a moment or two before
looking away. Megan had simply been unable.
    Megan’s grassroots utilitarian persona had
chafed against his extravagant wealth and class, causing her to
repress the ache she’d felt for him. Though not once, to Megan’s
dismay or her delight, she wasn’t sure which, had Lawrence
insinuated that he was interested in anything other than her work
nor had he ever looked down on her. The growing electricity between
them, however, had been palpable.
    The time she’d spent on the project had been
well worth the two months of heart-racing discomfort. Mr. Childs
was very well connected amongst new england’s aristocracy. Word
traveled fast around the small new england towns, and Megan soon
found her every hour booked with painting murals for the wealthy
residents of the Cape, Martha’s Vineyard, and nantucket.
    Lawrence sat down next to her on the bench,
and kissed her cheek. She smiled, trying to hide her excitement,
and secretly delighted at the casual tied cotton pants and sandals
he wore, which were in stark contrast to his normal preppy
appearance. He reached out and touched the back of her hand. His
touch sent an unfamiliar warmth and yearning through Megan’s
center.
    He smiled, sensing her heat, welcoming it,
yet giving her the space she needed, not moving forward with his
own desires. He inquired about her visit to the Vineyard, knowing
full well why she was going. He was, after all, the reason Mr.
Clark had hired Megan. His referrals had opened a door for her
success, as he had wished for her since he had first set eyes on
her.
    As the harbor came into view, Megan’s heart
still raced, her forgotten book lay on her lap. She described the
Martha’s Vineyard home which she had been hired to paint, the
turrets that stood like steeples peaking high up in the air, and
the wraparound porch overlooking the magnificent gardens. She had
no way of knowing that Lawrence already knew these things, as he
appeared to marvel at her descriptions with genuine interest. She
felt a little silly, wrapped up in the mindless chatter which kept
her from saying something she might regret. I just want to kiss
you , she thought. She was relieved as the ferry pulled into
port, and the patrons began their slow descent down the metal
ramp.
     
     
    Megan had paced the hotel room, checking her
watch every thirty seconds. She had just thirty minutes to settle
her nerves before meeting Lawrence for drinks and dinner. Why
did I agree to this? I won’t even be able to speak . She went to
the mirror again. Her curly hair behaved perfectly. Thank
goodness . She stood up straight and ran her hands down her
sleek black dress. She sucked in her stomach, turned sideways, and
then decided she couldn’t do that all evening. He’d have to
accept her for her five-foot-two, one-hundredtwenty-pound frame
that she tried hard to keep in relatively firm shape.
     
     
    The din of the quaint waterside restaurant
brought a feeling of relief to Megan. If nothing else, she and
Lawrence could talk about the seagulls that hovered, awaiting a
piece of a roll to drop below them.
    She nervously pushed her food around on her
plate, blushing as she became aware of Lawrence watching her, his
eyes silently telling of his growing desire, heightening the sexual
tension between them. She desperately tried to lessen her own lust,
but was unable. She was drawn to him, like metal to magnet,