Megan

Megan Winter stared at the man standing before her. His face, once so familiar, had become a distant memory, and his endearment, honey-pie, rang uncomfortably in her ears.

He grinned and tipped his head, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip as he did so.

“What…what are you doing here?” she asked, removing her hand from her mouth then clutching the doorframe.

“Jesus, girl, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. It’s only me.” He held his palms out. “Nothing to worry about.”

She didn’t believe him. The last time she’d seen Dylan, he’d oozed menace. His eyes had flashed with determination to get her back and a certain mad obsessiveness had lurked in their depths.

She took a step backwards but collided with a solid chest.

James.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her near. His chin pressed her temple and his breath warmed her skin.

Gripping his forearm, glad of his strength, she stared steadily at Dylan.

His eyes widened as he looked at James. “You,” he said.

“Hey, mate, what are you doing here?” James’ voice was light and breezy.

A weird sensation rolled around Megan. It was almost as if James knew Dylan.

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

James released Megan and held out his hand.

Dylan shook it. It seemed that it was now his turn to go pale. “But in the bar…”

“Yeah, you said…” James spoke slowly, as though pieces of a jigsaw were falling into place. “That you’d come to LA to get your girl back.”

James tensed.

“Oh, love a duck, look who it isn’t.” Brendon appeared on Megan’s other side, his voice high and skittish. “Dylan Dunkin-Buckshaw, what the devil are you doing in LA?” He paused and turned his head back the way he’d just come. “Hey, Georgie, get your sassy arse out here. Come see who it is.”

“Quite the party you’ve got going on,” Dylan said, wrinkling his nose. “You have your entire cavalry here, Megan.”

“Actually, it was a bit of a party.” Megan tried to keep the shake from her voice.

“And unless I am sorely mistaken, we didn’t send you an invite,” Brendon added huffily.

Dylan retreated a step down the path. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers and hunched his shoulders.

He was outnumbered. The bravado had left him. That menacing aura he projected whenever Megan was alone with him wasn’t so evident now.

“Dylan!” Georgie gasped. “Why are you here?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stared at Megan for a few seconds then gazed down at his feet.

Suddenly Megan felt bad. Dylan wasn’t the one for her, she knew that now with every fibre in her soul. That fact would never change. He was controlling and delusional and occasionally just plain old nasty. But that didn’t mean she wanted him to be unhappy, or never find a person to spend his life with. She just didn’t want it to be her. No way.

“Are you okay, Megan?” James asked, pulling her close again.

She nodded, despite the deluge of conflicting emotions she was experiencing. “Dylan. Why don’t you come in?”

He peeked back up at her, hope in his expression.

“Are you off your trolley?” Brendon gasped.

“No.” She turned to Brendon. “Dylan has come all this way—clearly it isn’t over for him even though it is for me.” She tilted her chin, took a deep breath and looked at Dylan again. “The least I can do is hear him out.”

“Thank you,” Dylan said, straightening slightly.

Megan leaned into James a little more, his body heat comforting. “As long as you know this, Dylan, I’m not going to be walking out of here with you, or putting on any rings you’ve got secreted away in your pockets.” She tried to use her sternest voice.

Dylan glanced between Megan and James. “Yeah, I get that now.”

“Bloody Nora,” Brendon said. “I need a drink. Come on, Georgie, let’s make it a stiff one.”

“A big stiff one.” Georgie rolled her eyes.

Brendon laughed. “The bigger the better.”

“Are you sure about this?” James asked Megan quietly.

“Yes.” Megan nodded. “I owe him this.” She gazed up at James, at his kind eyes and his handsome face. As much as she knew Dylan wasn’t the one for her, she knew James was. He was everything she needed in a man—considerate, tough, intelligent, loyal and, most of all, he made her feel like she was the most important thing in his life, as if her happiness were his priority. And in return, for her, seeing him smile, seeing James happy, was what she wanted most.

“Okay.” He gave her a squeeze. “I won’t be far away.”

“You don’t need to worry,” Dylan said. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”

“You’re not?” Megan asked.

He huffed. “Well, maybe I was ready to fight to get you back, but that’s changed.”

“What’s changed?” James asked, a hint of menace in his tone.

“You,” Dylan said, nodding at James. “What you said in the First Base bar, about having found a special someone.”

“I have. She’s very special.” James tucked a lock of hair behind Megan’s ear.

It was a small gesture but it screamed possessiveness. Stay away. She’s mine. Megan didn’t mind it in the least. Had the shoe been on the other foot, a woman from James’ past showing up, she’d have been staking her claim on her man big time.

“What happened at First Base bar?” she asked.

James shrugged. “We bumped into each other.”

“Obviously without knowing who we were talking to,” Dylan added. “We talked about you.”

Megan shook her head. Fate had put her life on a weird track lately. “Why don’t you come through, Dylan? We can talk out the back. In the courtyard.”

Dylan nodded again. “Okay.”

James seemed reluctant to let her go, but he did and stood stock still as Dylan walked into the house and followed Megan through the hallway to the kitchen.

She paused and filled two glasses with iced water, then stepped into the shade of the neat walled back garden. Several butterflies hovered around the mass of flowers that tumbled over the fence and for a moment she stared at them, wondering at how simple their lives were compared to hers.

Dylan’s presence behind her created a heavy sadness in her gut. Why had he bothered to come all this way? Made such a long journey just to go over the same old ground? She’d always known he was stubborn, but this was a new level.

At least the anger seemed to have gone from him.

Unless that was all an act for her friends.

Feeling suddenly vulnerable in the small quiet space, and alone with the man who’d caused her to flee London, she turned.

Dylan dragged out a patio chair from under the table, the legs scraping on the paving slabs covering the ground. He sat.

A flash of movement in the kitchen window caught her attention.

James.

He was keeping an eye on things.

Feeling braver, she set the two drinks on the table and sat opposite the man she’d walked down the aisle to marry…except she hadn’t, she’d jilted him at the altar.

“Thanks,” he said, pulling his drink closer.

Somehow he looked smaller than he used to.

He retrieved his shades from where he’d poked them into the neck of his T-shirt and laid them on the table. He then took off his peaked cap and rubbed his hand over his hair.

“I don’t understand what you’re doing here,” Megan said, running her fingers over the condensation covering her glass of water. “I thought you understood that we were over.”

“Have you ever been in love, Megan? I mean, really and truly in heart-stopping, soul-wrenching love?”

“Is that a trick question?” She frowned.

“No. Not at all.”

“I thought I was in love with you,” she said quietly.

“You only thought…”

“Yes, but now…” She paused. “Now I think I was in love with the idea of being in love, getting married, having the happily ever after. I don’t know if what I felt came from here.” She pressed her hand over her chest.

He nodded.

“And I’m so, so sorry I didn’t realise that until the last minute.”

“We’ve gone past apologies,” he said, a resigned expression crossing his face.

“But I will always be sorry for what happened that day in church, it was a cruel thing to do.”

He took a sip of his water then smiled a little ruefully. “It was, but if it helps, you’re forgiven.”

Megan remained silent.

A plane overhead roared past.

“But I was in heart-stopping, soul-wrenching love with you,” he said when the noise had faded.

“But were you?” She shook her head. “Were you really?”

“Yes, of course.”

“But you…” She hesitated. “Looking back, I seemed to annoy you.”

“Annoy me?”

“Yes. Most of the time I wasn’t wearing the right thing, saying the right thing, and you didn’t like my red lipstick.” Automatically she touched her lips, which were of course coated in her favourite MAC colour. “Everything about me seemed to irritate you,” she went on. “I don’t think I made you happy, Dylan, not really. You were always trying to change me.”

“Is that how I made you feel? Like you were never right?”

She nodded, a balloon of emotion swelling in her chest. “Yes. I spent a lot of my time managing your moods, your…” To hell with it, she’d just say it. Dylan couldn’t hurt her anymore and it might just be for his own good. “Managing your temper.”

He balled his fists on the table.

Megan glanced at the kitchen window. She could just make out James’ outline. He was standing very still and appeared to have his attention set entirely on her and Dylan.

That made her feel a whole lot better.

“For the record, I thought, and still do think, you’re perfect,” Dylan said.

“Can I give you a bit of advice then?” Megan stared straight at him.

“Go for it.” He blinked slowly, as though not really wanting to hear what was going to be said.

“Next time you’re dating, tell her you think she’s perfect. Let her wear and eat and do what she wants, because you’ll soon find it’s what you want, too.” She paused. “And it’s what attracted you to her in the first place.”

“Next time.” He huffed. “There was only you, Megan. I’m done with this whole love game.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She held out her hands, palms to the sky. “You’re young, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. There’s someone for everyone, you know.”

“And I guess you’ve found that someone.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, towards the kitchen.

Megan rested back in the chair and again looked at James’ silhouette. “Yes. I have.”

“As I said before when I met him, in the bar earlier,” Dylan said, picking up his shades and fiddling with the arms. “We got chatting…about you.”

Megan was quiet, waiting for him to continue.

“Of course I had no idea he was the new man in my fiancée’s life, your name was never mentioned.”

“Ex-fiancée.”

“Er, yes, sorry, ex, of course.” He shrugged. “Anyway, he said that he’d met a special lady who made it worth coming home to at the end of the day. Someone he was in love with.”

“James said that? To you?” Megan wanted to believe it, really she did. It made it all seem so much more real, more permanent between her and James if he was talking about her like that to other people. And what he’d said, it was the way she felt about him, too.

Dylan was studying her. “He also said that this woman he was in love with was beautiful inside and out, talented, fun, and drove him crazy and made him complete.”

She had a sip of water then kept hold of her cool glass as it rested on the table.

He reached out and captured her hand, trapping it between both of his. “I’d come to LA to fight for you, to try and persuade you to come back to me. I was prepared to do anything, try whatever tactic worked.”

“I’m not coming back to you.” It was strange to have him touch her. Familiar yet alien. Comfortable but not.

The back door opened. James stood there, his eyes narrowed and his arms crossed over his chest.

A flutter of apprehension took flight in her belly. She knew James didn’t take kindly to other men thinking she was theirs—hell, the last guy who had had ended up with a black eye. Being an A-list Hollywood actor hadn’t made a jot of difference.

Dylan didn’t appear to notice James. “I know that you’ll never be mine again. I didn’t know that, not for a long time. I don’t know if I was blind or in denial. Or if hope was the strongest emotion I had to hold on to. Plus…” He shook his head. “No one has ever dumped me before, Megan.”

She didn’t reply.

“That bloke in there.” He gave a backwards nod.

“James.”

“Yeah, James. He really bloody loves you, you know that?”

Megan swallowed and again glanced at James.

“If I thought,” Dylan went on, “for one moment that he didn’t, that he’d not treat you right, then I wouldn’t give up on you.” He released her hand and reached for his cap, slapping it on his head. “You only deserve the best, Megan. You really do.”

“I think that’s true of us all.”

“Maybe, but you…well, you’re special.”

“I want you to find someone, Dylan, the way I have.”

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.” He picked up his water and drank it in several large gulps, the way he did with beer. When he’d finished, he set it down and stood.

Megan got to her feet. “What will you do now? In LA?”

“I’ve got a return flight in a week. The old me thought that would be as long as I needed to win you back.” He shook his head. “Now, I think I’ll hire a car and do some exploring, maybe get myself to Vegas.”

“Sounds fun.”

James stepped into the courtyard and over to Megan. His upper arm brushed hers. “All okay?”

“Yeah.” Dylan slipped on his shades. “I’m just leaving.” He gave James’ shoulder a friendly whack. “So you don’t need to worry about me anymore, unless, that is, you upset Megan. She deserves the best, you know.”

“I do know, and I have no intention of upsetting her.” James was still tense.

Megan knew he wasn’t enjoying this whole situation.

“Good,” Dylan said, “because if you do, you’ll have me to deal with.” He reached for Megan’s hand, lifted it to his lips and swept a kiss over her knuckles. “Take care, and good luck, you know, with the shoes and all that.”

“Thanks, Dylan. You take care, too.”

He released her hand. “I’ll show myself out.”

Megan watched him disappear into the kitchen then listened as his footsteps faded and the front door slammed, the breeze catching it. She blew out a long, low breath as stress slipped from her body.

“Do you think that’s the last we’ll hear from him?” James asked, winding his arms around her waist and pulling her close.

She slotted her hands behind his neck and looked up at him. “I hope so. He’s been so persistent and amazingly stubborn, but I think he’s got the message.” She smiled. “Whatever you said to him in that bar worked.”

James rolled his eyes. “What are the chances, eh? Of me talking to a complete stranger about how in love with you I am and it turns out to be your ex.”

Megan smiled as warmth spread through her. Hearing James say he loved her would never get old, never get boring. Spoken by him, in his confident, deep voice, it was the sweetest thing she’d ever heard.

She reached up and kissed him, losing herself in the man who had become her world.

“Megan, Megan. Has Dylan gone?” Georgie’s voice filled the courtyard.

“Oh, for the love of God, will you two get a room,” Brendon said with an exasperated sigh.

Megan tore herself from James and turned to her friends. “Yes, he’s gone, and this time I think that’s it, for good.”

“You don’t think he’ll show up again?” Georgie asked.

“Sure he will,” Brendon said. “He’s like eating a rotten egg that keeps generating bad smells over and over. Coming back to haunt you when you least expect it.”

“Ick, when have you ever eaten a rotten egg?” Georgie asked, grimacing at Brendon.

“Well, I haven’t, but I’d imagine the smells would be pretty gross.” He shrugged.

Megan smiled, enjoying the fact that Dylan had been and gone without incident. Plus he had seemed to get that they were over this time. “I think this really is the last we’ll see of him, unless we head to Vegas over the next week.”

“Vegas?” Zane said, appearing at Brendon’s side.

Brendon slipped his arm around his new boyfriend. Apparently the ‘get a room’ rule didn’t apply to them. “You want to go to Vegas?”

“With you, anytime.” Zane shrugged. “Except this week. We have to get Megan ready for The Paul Piper Show on Friday.”

A tumble of nerves hit Megan at the mention of the chat show. She had a lot of things to put straight with the nation’s media, not least telling the world she wasn’t with Hollywood actor Tate Simmons, despite having been on his arm at an award ceremony the previous week. And that was before she gave her fashion brand, Winter Shoes, a good plug.

Brendon slapped his palm to his forehead. “Yes, there’s that, and I’m expecting a delivery of more shoes for LA Hype.”

“Oh, including Greta Breen’s order?”

“Yes, and when Greta wears them to the Oscars they’re going to be flying off the shelves, so we’ll need a good supply.”

“So exciting.” Zane grinned broadly.

“And, we’re forgetting something else.” Georgie whipped a tape measure from her pocket. “I need measurements, from you”—she flicked the end of the tape at Brendon, then at Megan—“and you.”

“What for?” Megan asked, frowning.

Georgie tutted. “For my wedding, of course. It’s only a matter of weeks away and you’re not going to be in London for fittings.”

A pinch of shame nipped at Megan’s conscience.

Of course, my best friend’s wedding.

She’d been so wrapped up in her own world—her business just taking off and a love she’d only just allowed herself to fall into—that she’d almost forgotten the most important thing going on in Georgie’s life.

“Absolutely,” she said, grinning. “Let’s get to it.” She stepped back from James and held out her arms. “Measure away.”