Free Skin Deep by Pamela Clare Page A

couldn’t handle it.”
    Nate watched the play of emotions in Megan’s eyes—shock, sympathy, anger.
    “What kind of woman breaks up with her fiancé when he’s lying in a hospital bed? You were wounded serving your country. I’m sorry she hurt you, but if that’s the kind of woman she is, I think she did you a favor.”
    “Maybe so.” Her indignation touched Nate, made him smile.
    “She should have been there the entire time, helping you in any way she could.” The anger faded from Megan’s face, her gaze filling with empathy. “It must have been very hard getting through that. There’s nothing more painful than being abandoned by the people who are supposed to love you.”
    Even if Nate hadn’t read the articles about Megan, he would’ve known she had personal experience with that kind of betrayal. It was there in her eyes.
    Poor, sweet Megan.
    And then Nate was no longer thinking about those dark days in the burn center. He was no longer thinking at all. He leaned in, trailed his thumb over the curve of Megan’s cheek—and kissed her.
    At the first brush of his lips against hers, she gasped. He wanted more, the shock of physical contact singing through him. He leaned closer, cupped her cheek, increased the pressure, teasing her lower lip with his tongue.
    Oh, God, she tasted sweet!
    She didn’t pull away, but leaned closer, her lips going pliant.
    “Hope you like marshmallows.” The sound of the old man’s voice interrupted them as he reappeared with a mug of cocoa, which he put on the coffee table. “Be careful. It’s hot.”
    Nice timing, old man.
    Megan jumped away from Nate as if scorched. Her cheeks bright pink, she turned her attention to the cocoa. “Thank you.”
    And for a moment, Nate’s dad stood there, trying to pretend he hadn’t seen the kiss. “Well, I’m going to hit the hay. You youngsters enjoy the fire. Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day. Goodnight, Megan.”
    Megan looked up at him, mug of cocoa in hand. “Goodnight, Jack. And thanks for everything. Your chili really is fantastic.”
    “Damn straight it is—and you’re welcome.”
    He turned and left the two of them alone.
    # # #
    Megan’s heart was still racing as Jack disappeared up the stairs. Unable to look at Nate, she stared into the fire, gripping her mug of cocoa tightly between her palms, the ceramic hot against her skin.
    Oh, God!
    Nate had kissed her. He had kissed her. And she hadn’t hated it. She hadn’t felt repulsed. She hadn’t pushed him away.
    Had she enjoyed it?
    The answer made her heart pound harder.
    It had to be an accident. He’d surprised her, and they’d been interrupted. There hadn’t been time for her revulsion to kick in.
    Or maybe she really had enjoyed it.
    “Megan.” Nate took the mug from her hands and set it on the table. “Look at me, Megan.”
    Her pulse almost frantic, she did what he asked, the gentle understanding in his eyes taking away some of her panic. “Y-you kissed me.”
    “You noticed.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “If we hadn’t been interrupted, I would have kept kissing you.”
    And she felt it again—that strange flutter deep in her belly.
    Almost unable to breathe, she watched as he slowly drew her hand to his lips and kissed it, his mouth lingering against her skin, heat shivering through her, his gaze never leaving hers. And then…
    He seemed to be waiting for something, his gaze searching hers.
    The moment passed.
    He released her hand with a squeeze, gave her a smile. “You should drink your cocoa before it gets cold.”
    She exhaled in a long shudder, reached for her cocoa with trembling hands, and sipped, oblivious to the creamy, chocolate taste, thoughts and emotions so tangled inside her that she couldn’t sort through them.
    “Emily seems to have my dad wrapped around her pinky finger.” Nate watched her, scotch tumbler in hand.
    “Yeah.” Megan struggled for words, a maelstrom raging inside her. Part of her wanted Nate to kiss her so