delivered in Ginny’s typical get-off-your-butt-and-stop-feeling-sorry-for-yourself manner, Megan understood the loving concern behind the sarcastic question.
“I’m not opposed to dating someone. I do want to get some semblance of a normal life back, but…” She paused and chewed her lower lip. An image of Jack Calhoun as he’d looked yesterday, wearing only a towel, filtered through her mind.
Square jaw. Hard chest. Broad shoulders.
Testosterone personified. A tremor raced through her.
“But?”
“But not him.” Megan wrapped her arms around her middle to calm the uneasy quiver.
Ginny frowned and shook her head. “Why not him? He seemed pretty nice, and he’s totally gorgeous. What’s the problem?”
While she tried to verbalize her reluctance, Megan stared down at her shoes. “He’s too…male.”
“Meaning?”
The car bounced over a set of defunct railroad tracks, and she grabbed the armrest for balance. If only she had something comparable to an armrest in her life, something she could cling to for balance and security. From the day she’d met Ginny down at the women’s counseling center, her mentor and friend had told her that “something” had to come from inside her. Things, even other people, made nice security blankets, but real, lasting peace-of-mind and self-assurance came from deep within oneself. Though she’d made significant progress in reclaiming her life, Megan hadn’t yet rediscovered the spring of pure self-confidence she’d lost. But she kept hoping, kept searching.
“What do you mean, ‘he’s too male’?”
With a sigh, and knowing how pitifully weak and irrational her reason made her sound, she expounded. “When I met him yesterday, he was wearing a towel. Only a towel.”
Ginny arched a well-manicured eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? And?”
“And he’s…all muscled and toned and…male!”
“Sounds good to me.”
Her friend’s glib response belied the woman’s insight into what bothered Megan, she knew. Ginny was prodding her, trying to make her vocalize her fears. The first step to conquering the demons was naming them, bringing them into the light for scrutiny. Only then could she begin tearing those little devils apart, piece by piece.
“Look, you know I’m not afraid of men,” Megan argued. “It’s not as bad as that!”
“Then how did you feel when you met him?”
Shutting her eyes, Megan pictured Jack Calhoun in her mind again. “Vulnerable.”
“Why?”
“Because he…could overpower me.” She scowled. That excuse fell short, and she knew it as well as Ginny did.
“So could most men, but you aren’t afraid of other men. Not even Billy. And he bench-presses two hundred and fifty pounds.” Ginny sent her a skeptical glance.
“Billy’s different. He’s your brother. He’s in high school. He—”
“Doesn’t get you hot and bothered like Mr. Neighbor does?”
Megan jerked her gaze to Ginny’s smug expression. “What?”
“That’s it, isn’t it?” Ginny stopped for a red light and turned to face her passenger. Her knowing eyes, honed like razors, cut through Megan’s defenses and denials. “You’re attracted to him, and it scares you. Because attraction could lead to a date, and a date to a relationship and a relationship to intimacy.”
The light changed, but Ginny didn’t move, not even when the car behind them blasted its horn. The piercing intensity in her eyes softened when Megan’s silence confirmed her assertions.
“I’m not ready.” Megan whispered her admission, yet it seemed to reverberate in the quiet car. Swallowing past the knot forming in her throat, she allowed the rest of her fears to float to the surface. She had to face them in order to move past them. “What happens if I get involved with someone, someone I really like, and when the time comes to…be intimate, I freeze.”
“If he’s got any kind of decency at all, he’ll understand and be patient with you, support you and—”
“Greg didn’t.” The icy memory of her fiancé’s desertion due to her inability to make love to him stabbed her heart.
Ginny huffed and shook her head. “Greg was a self-centered ass. We’ve been over this before. There are men out there who can be gentle and understanding and supportive. The ones who aren’t simply aren’t worth your time.”
Megan looked away, unable to stand Ginny’s unrelenting stare any longer. That gaze saw too much. As much as she loved Ginny’s insightfulness and friendship, she hated those qualities, too. Sometimes she wished Ginny would leave her alone, let her hide behind her locked doors and lick her wounds. Instead, Ginny pushed her, probed her, gave her little leeway for excuses. She demanded so much from Megan because she cared that much, too.
“The light’s green,” she told Ginny, hoping her nonresponse would make the point that she hadn’t the energy for any more questions.
She knew Ginny didn’t consider the topic of Jack Calhoun closed. What’s more, since Jack was her neighbor, she knew she’d have to face the reporter—and her disturbing attraction to him—again.
And again.
Somehow she’d have to come to terms with her confusing feelings for Jack Calhoun.
Chapter 4
One evening later that week, Megan sat at her computer reviewing the lesson plan she’d drawn up for the upcoming week, but Sam’s restless barking filtered in from the backyard, making it difficult to concentrate. Grumbling over the interruption, she walked to the window and opened it.
“Sam!” she called through the screen, “Pipe down, would ya? I’m trying to work.”
Sam’s barks softened to a whimper at the sound of his master’s voice.
“Thank you!” Leaving the window open, she strolled back to her computer, stretching the kinks from her shoulders. No doubt her well-trained guard dog was protecting her house from a vicious squirrel again.
Although Sam had been through training similar to a police dog’s, he was first and foremost a dog. A dog who hated squirrels. But for Megan, Sam’s foibles made him that much more lovable.
She’d never regretted the decision to get Sam for protection. His gentle disposition and loyalty made him a trusted companion, as well as her guardian. His presence in the house at night, and most often sharing her double bed, gave her a reassurance she needed. Experience had taught her that danger could find you even in the sanctity of your home.
Ginny called Sam a crutch, but even if Megan didn’t rely on the German shepherd for added protection, she’d keep him for the unconditional affection and companionship he offered. Her self-imposed isolation over the last five years made for a lonely existence.
Returning to her lesson plan, she scanned the calendar for a day when one of the girls in her class could bring her puppy for show and tell. Megan decided to tie in the puppy’s visit to a lesson on responsibilities to pets or similarities between animals or—
Sam’s barking intruded on her thoughts again. But now the timbre of Sam’s bark had become dark and ominous. His snarling and growling sent a chill creeping over her skin. Apprehension accelerated her pulse. Surely a squirrel wouldn’t set Sam off like this. Did she have a prowler?
Megan froze…until the wail of a child’s terrified scream rent the air.
As she flew to her window, Megan realized Sam’s barking had now stopped. From the open window, she searched her fenced backyard for him.