“But if only I gave him a little more time—” Meg began.
“Time for what, Meg? You’ve been friends since you were kids and although you can’t seem to date each other, neither of you dates anyone else.”
“Still, that doesn’t mean the plan is sound enough to—”
“Oh, it’s sound all right. And it’s happening—as soon as he comes in,” Paige decreed.
A thick ball of nerves and emotion piled up in Megan’s throat, and suddenly she wanted to wail at the injustices of the world.
There were a thousand reasons behind her seduction, but only one that made her hesitate. She wanted him to do it. Him, the man of her dreams, to break down, and seduce her. “But if he truly wanted me, he’d have done something about it already. I wouldn’t need to break into his home dressed like a—I look like a slut, Paige!”
“Meg—I’ve seen the way he stares at you, and I’m surprised your hair hasn’t caught fire yet. Can’t you see why Cody’s always protective toward you—he wants you. In some part of his labyrinth of a mind, he thinks you’re his. But if the guy has some hang-ups about not being good enough for you, then you’re going to have to show him you don’t care!”
A pang of longing struck her as all the years of pent-up wanting washed over her. All those looks he gave her, all those smiles.
Did any of them mean anything other than friendship?
Every single night, Megan replayed the ways that cornflower blue gaze of his took her in. She wondered: Was that a little heat in his eyes today? Was his smile a little higher on one end? When he grazed my elbow with his, did he mean to? But if he did, why did he pull back?
And even when she was 99.9 percent certain she’d seen a spark of something wonderfully heated in his eyes, she would end up shaking her head in denial.
If he’d wanted her, a man like Cody would not hesitate. Not for an instant.
He was a leader, a charger by nature, a doer. One of the city’s top homicide detectives and one that lived for the chase.
No. Cody Nordstrom was not one to stand by idly and let what he wanted get away. If he’d wanted her … he’d have caught you long ago, Megan Banks.
A weight of sadness settled over her shoulders at the realization. “He doesn’t want me, Paige. He thinks I’m still just a young girl. He’ll always see me like that fourteen-year-old girl that walked in on…” No. Why, oh why, had she thought about that awful day right now?
“He won’t see you as a little girl when he sees you naked, so stop with the pity party. Just take off your coat, seduce him, and let him come to terms with it later. Zach loves it when he comes home to find me partially dressed.”
“But Zach’s your husband,” Meg countered.
“He didn’t used to be,” her friend shot back, and she hung up.
Right. Okay. She could do this. She was here already. Had successfully mastered some of the most difficult parts like “breaking in”—although, technically, the door had only needed a little nudge. Still, she was in his bedroom this evening and she was going to do it.
Megan Banks was going to seduce Cody Nordstrom. Oh, God.
Searching the trembling depths of herself for courage, she tossed both her coat and phone on the chair by the window and nervously ran her hands down her curly blond hair to make sure it wasn’t sticking out or doing anything weird. Six years—six years of being ignored—and oh, yes, Megan had been counting ever since that day she’d seen him at the cemetery. She’d been counting every second since he’d returned.
Well—the counting ends tonight.
Listening for the front door and trying to stop her tummy from quaking, Megan waited, all the while trying not to imagine the enormity of what she was about to do, of what it would mean if she failed to seduce the tall, blond hunk who made her heart race, her mouth water, and her insides twist with unfulfilled desire.
She tried not to think that she’d rather the earth swallow her up if Cody didn’t respond like she was hoping, praying, that he would.
Megan loved him.
She loved him so much that it ached most of the time.
She loved his hard-boned face. His cool personality. And the way his wide white smiles hid the somberness of his thoughts.
She loved his arresting features and his tanned hands, how big and thick those hands were, and how effortlessly he handled a gun with them.
She loved the way he dressed, and how his suits were always so dark and sharp and contrasted beautifully with the blond of his hair. And she loved those snowy white shirts that were at all times matched with a tie that would kick any other cops’ ties’ asses.
Most of all, she loved his stubbornness and his determination, and the way he protected her like she was the only thing the world had of value.