Meeting Megan Again. Julianna Morris

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with a woman like Megan. She was the princess in the fairy tale, but he wasn’t any prince.

      “I’ll just take a look around, then come down,” Tyler said when Megan didn’t move. He needed a few minutes to collect his thoughts. At eighteen Megan had been both innocent and sweetly seductive.

      She was different now.

      The innocence was gone, perhaps understandably. But while Megan was as enticing as ever, the sweet seduction was gone as well. Shadows had replaced the sparkling fun in her green eyes—it was a loss that made him want to cry out in protest.

      The door closed behind Megan and Tyler uttered another curse, this time aloud.

      He crossed to the window and stared out at the garden. It was full of cheerful O’Bannons, laughing and playing, or sitting and talking. Kara was up at the horseshoe pit, taking aim at the post. After a moment of careful concentration she sent the horseshoe flying. It spun around the target and a flurry of congratulations followed.

      Tyler’s frown deepened. He didn’t known anything about families and he was too old to learn. All the “what if-ing” in the world wouldn’t change things. Kara was another man’s daughter, and he was what he’d always been—an outsider. Not that he blamed anyone but himself. The O’Bannons had tried, it wasn’t their fault he couldn’t join their picture-perfect world.

      Megan appeared in the garden and crossed to a woman sitting with her back to the house. She knelt and said a few words, then the woman turned, looking directly at his window. It was Eleanor.

      She saw him, smiled brightly and waved, motioning with her hand to come down.

      Tyler lifted his own hand in return. Eleanor was the closest thing he had to a mother. He should just forget about Megan and concentrate on finding out what was wrong with Eleanor. He might not fit in, but at least he could get the best doctors on the planet to take care of her.

      With that thought, Tyler looked at the T-shirt Kara had given him to wear. He flexed the muscles of his left biceps, trying to decide if the short sleeves of the shirt would cover the tattoo he’d got while serving in the army.

      He could just imagine Megan’s reaction if she saw that damned eagle.

      “He said you wrote to him,” Megan muttered to Eleanor, still on edge from her encounter with Tyler.

      Not that that was anything new. Tyler had always made her nervous. It was the way he had of looking at her, as if he had secret thoughts she could never understand.

      Eleanor patted her hand. “Of course I wrote to him, Megan. You know, he’s such a fine man. I always knew he’d do well for himself. But it’s a shame he never married—he’d be so much happier with a wife and family.”

      Megan’s fingernails dug into her hand. She adored her grandmother-in-law, but there were moments when Eleanor was purely difficult. Like now, when she got that matchmaking glint in her eyes.

      “I don’t think Tyler is interested in wedded bliss,” she muttered.

      “Maybe. But you know…I could tell he was attracted to you back then.”

      Attracted? Megan automatically shook her head. Not a chance. Tyler didn’t even like her, much less have any warmer feelings.

      “Tyler barely knows me,” she said hastily. “And I was engaged when we met.”

      Eleanor took her hand and patted it. “Megan, you’re part of the family now, and you always will be. But Brad is gone. We don’t want to see you alone.”

      The kind words made Megan sigh. She’d discovered there were worse things than being alone—things like having a husband who couldn’t be faithful, and who said it was your fault because you weren’t woman enough for him. Considering the alternative, she preferred being alone.

      “Don’t get your hopes up, Grams.” Megan gave the older woman a hug. “I’m not interested in getting married again. I know you want more children around to spoil, but you’ll have to be content with Kara for the time being.”

      “Maybe Reece and his fiancée are planning a family,” Eleanor said thoughtfully.

      Megan doubted it. Reece O’Bannon might be taking a trip to the altar, but she couldn’t see him changing diapers and walking the floor with a teething infant.

      “It doesn’t seem right,” Eleanor fretted. “I have three children, six grandchildren, and only one great-grandchild.”

      “You’re just jealous of Carolyn,” Megan said lightly. “Because she’s ahead in the great-grandchild department.”

      “Hmmph.”

      Eleanor and Carolyn were twin sisters who had married twin brothers. They were devoted to one another, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t some healthy competition between them. Especially when it came to grandkids.

      “Hi, Tyler,” Kara shouted from the horseshoe pit.

      Startled, Megan looked up in time to see Tyler smile at the greeting. He’d changed from his suit into black jeans and the T-shirt Kara had given him. If Megan hadn’t known better she would have said he was just an average guy, not too different from the rest of the O’Bannons.

      “Who am I kidding?” she muttered under her breath.

      There was nothing average about Tyler O’Bannon. He was taller than she remembered, with broad shoulders, a flat stomach, and long, muscular legs. He didn’t carry an excess ounce of fat and he had the natural grace of an athlete. On top of that, he was blessed with naturally wavy black hair and the sexiest smile in human history.

      “What’s that, Megan?”

      “Nothing, Grams.”

      The corner of Eleanor’s mouth twitched. “Of course not.”

      Tyler walked toward them with an unhurried stride that still ate up the distance quickly. “It’s good to see you.” He hesitated a moment, then leaned down and gave Eleanor an awkward kiss.

      A pleased pink flooded her wrinkled cheeks. “Sit down, Tyler, and tell me how you’ve been.”

      “I’m more concerned about you,” he said bluntly.

      His face had a determined, I’m-getting-to-the-bottom-of-things expression. It was the same expression Megan had found so intimidating nine years ago, and she wondered how Eleanor would stand up to it now.

      “Oh…” Eleanor waved her hand about in a vague dismissing motion. “We older folks have our aches and pains. You mustn’t pay any mind.”

      “Your letter—”

      “Don’t fuss, dear.”

      If Megan hadn’t been watching closely, she wouldn’t have seen the nearly imperceptible shake of Eleanor’s head, or the way her fingers tightened around Tyler’s much larger hand.

      What did it mean?

      Eleanor was such a strong woman. She worked long hours at the church, rarely complained, and was generous

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