From Best Friend To Bride

“I love you,” Megan said, her voice shaky.

Evan froze, didn’t look back, didn’t comment, just paused before he disappeared around the corner. Moments later, the back door opened and closed again.

Megan turned, a fake smile pasted across her face, and started down the hall toward her room, skirting around him. “Well, let me change and then maybe we can do dinner. You want to go out? I’m not sure I have a lot here—”

Cameron followed her into the bedroom and watched as she jerked off her robe and tossed it onto the mound of clothes on her bed. As she glanced into the mirror and sighed, Cameron came up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders and meeting her gaze in the reflection.

“You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Her bright green eyes held his. “I’m not pretending,” she assured him. “I’m ignoring the fact that for years I’ve been an enabler to someone who really doesn’t care about me, and I’m done. I’m also starving, so while I change, figure out what you want to eat.”

Cameron knew there was so much more in her, but he wasn’t pressing the matter...not when she was staring back at him with such vulnerability and was half-naked. They were back to that damn body-hugging dress again, and Cameron didn’t know if he wanted to keep looking or if he wanted her to cover up.

Megan’s entire body relaxed against his. Her bottom nestled against his groin, and Cameron tried to ignore the innocent gesture as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her securely. She needed comfort, needed to lean on someone even though it was against everything she stood for. She’d never admit she needed to draw from his strength, but Cameron was freely giving it.

Unfortunately, his fingertips barely brushed across the tops of her breasts before he could complete his hold. A shiver racked her body and vibrated through his.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered, her eyes still locked on his in the mirror.

Looking at her reflection was quite different from being face-to-face. He didn’t know why, but in the mirror he saw so much, too much. Her vulnerability stared back at him at the same time that her killer body mocked him. He was her friend, damn it. He shouldn’t be having these thoughts of how perfect she felt against him, how sexy she was.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” Even though his libido was taking a hard hit, it was the truth.

With a deep breath, Megan straightened and turned, all but brushing those breasts against his chest. Okay, really. He was a guy already on the brink of snapping the stretched line of control, and there was only so much more of this he could take.

“Are you working tonight?” she asked, oblivious to his inner turmoil.

“No.” He dropped his arms to his side and took a slight step back, away from that chest, the killer body that was slowly unraveling him. “Why don’t I run to the store and grab something while you change?”

“A night in?” She beamed. “Only if I get to pick the movie.”

Cameron groaned. “If I have to watch The Godfather again...”

With an evil laugh and a shrug, Megan stepped around him and started digging through clothes. “You choose the meal—I choose the movie. You know that’s how we work.”

Yeah, that’s how they worked. They’d been working like this for years, before his deployment and since. But in all the years they’d had this routine of spontaneous date nights with each other, never once had the urge to peel her out of her clothes been this strong.

Of course now that he’d seen her, held her and visually enjoyed her in this dress, he could think of little else. So in a moot attempt at holding on to his sanity, and their friendship, Cameron conceded.

“You win,” he told her. “I’ll be back.”

Even if he removed himself from the situation, Cameron knew he was screwed. Now that he’d seen her lush, curvy body, and felt it so intimately against his, he couldn’t not see it. The image, the feel of her, was permanently ingrained into him.

Penance for his sins of lying to her.

* * *

Every single time they settled in for a movie, Megan fell asleep within the first hour without fail. Tonight was no exception.

She’d curled her feet beneath her, rested her head on his shoulder and before the mobsters could leave the gun and take the cannoli, Megan was out.

Cameron propped his feet up on her coffee table and slid farther down on the sofa. Carefully, he adjusted Megan so she lay down, her head on his lap. Resting his own head against the back cushion, Cameron shut his eyes and attempted to relax. Her delicate hand settled right over his thigh as she let out a soft sigh.

With his hand curled over her shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall, Cameron realized he actually preferred resting just like this to his bed at home. At least here he had company. At home he had thoughts that kept him awake and staring at the ceiling fan. Work never fully left him—occupational hazard.

But here, with Megan, he could let work shuffle to the back of his mind. He didn’t want to burden her with his stress, so he purposely tried to be a friend first and a cop second whenever he was with her. Added to that, he reveled in the fact she was comfortable and sleeping soundly. He wanted to be her protector, her stable force. Somehow knowing he was all of that allowed him to let down his guard just a bit.

Crossing his ankles, Cameron rested an elbow on the arm of the couch. He’d muted the movie once Megan had fallen asleep, but the flicker of the screen lit up the room. As always, when they had movie night, all lights were off.

A shrill ring pierced the silence, and Cameron jerked awake. The TV had gone black, indicating he’d dozed off for a good bit, but he didn’t really recall how long ago that had been. The ring sounded again. He grabbed his side, but Megan’s phone on the table was the one lit up. Normally his phone was the one that rang at all hours.

She was still out with her head on his lap. He didn’t recognize the number on the screen. Shocked the caller wasn’t her brother, Cameron nudged Megan’s shoulder.

“Meg.”

She groaned and rolled to her back, blinking as she looked up at him. The sight of her utterly exhausted and rumpled from sleeping on his lap shouldn’t have his body stirring. Damn that red dress from the christening and the skimpy number she’d had on earlier.

The third ring ripped through the silence, and Megan was on instant alert. She jerked up, grabbed the phone and answered.

Cameron shifted his legs to the floor, immediately getting some blood flow back. They’d obviously been asleep for a while, which was what they had both needed.

Megan came to her feet and spoke in hushed tones as she walked into the other room. He assumed it was a client. Megan often counseled long after regular office hours were over. She was so good at her job because of how caring she was, how much she sacrificed to make sure her clients’ needs came first.

Cameron got to his feet, then twisted at the waist until his back popped in all the right places. He was getting too old to sleep on a couch, a car, his office. Unfortunately, he didn’t see an end to his bad habits anytime soon.

He turned off the TV, sending the living room into utter darkness. Megan rounded the corner from the kitchen just as he started to reach over and click on the lamp, but his hand bumped the stand and sent the light to the hardwood floor. He cringed at the racket.

“Don’t move.” Megan turned on the kitchen light, sending an instant glow shining into the living room. “Let me grab my broom.”

“You’re barefoot,” he told her. “Let me clean it up.”

“You don’t have shoes on, either.” She disappeared down the hall and came back with broom and dustpan in hand. “Sit on the couch, and I’ll get this.”

Like hell. Ignoring her, he reached down to pick up the cockeyed lampshade and the remains of the lamp. The bulb and base had completely shattered.

“I’ll bring you a new one later.” He set the awkward shade and lamp guts on the coffee table and reached to take the broom.

Stepping around him, she handed him the dustpan and started sweeping. Stubborn woman. No wonder they were best friends. Nobody else would put up with how hardheaded they both were.

He squatted down and held the pan while she scooped in the shards. “At least this wasn’t a family heirloom,” he joked.

Shoving her hair from her eyes, she threw him a glance. “Funny.”

Cameron headed into the kitchen to toss the debris. As he was tying the bag, the vacuum kicked on in the living room, the occasional cracking noise indicating she was removing the rest of the slivers from the floor.

He tugged the liner from the trash can and tied it, wanting to get it out so she didn’t cut herself later. As Cameron jerked the knot in place, a hunk of glass he hadn’t seen poking from the small hole sliced through the edge of his hand.

Damn. That hurt.

He opened her back door, tossed the bag into the larger can on her patio and closed and locked the door. The vacuum shut off in the other room as Cameron headed to the sink. Running his hand beneath the cool water eased the burning sensation and washed away the mess, allowing him to see just how deep the cut was. Megan didn’t need to know he’d hurt himself. She’d make a bigger deal of it than need be.

After rinsing his hand, he examined the area further. Instantly he started bleeding again. Apparently it was deeper than he thought.

“Hiding something?”

Cringing, Cameron ripped off a paper towel, pressed it against the side of his hand and turned toward his accuser. Megan rested one shoulder against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest, and merely lifted a brow.

“Just a scratch.” That hurt like hell. Apparently he was old and wimpy. Great combo for the police chief.

Cameron’s eyes locked on to her shapely legs as she crossed the room. Damn it.

Carefully, she took his hand and pulled the paper towel away. “Oh, Cam. This needs stitches.”

She examined his hand, then brought her gaze up to meet his. In the middle of the night, with everything so quiet and intimate, Cameron knew for a fact he was starting to delve into a territory he had no business being in.

Her eyes held his, dropped to his mouth, then traveled back up. That gesture said more than any words could. But this was Megan, his best friend, the girl who’d been his senior prom date and the girl who’d sneaked out with him and his brothers that same night and got absolutely plastered near the lake.

She was pretty much family. So why was she looking at him beneath those heavy lids? Why was he enjoying this rush of new sensations, wondering if she had deeper feelings? He shouldn’t want her to have stronger emotions for him. That added complication was the last thing either of them needed.

“Come with me.”

Cameron blinked. “Excuse me?”

Megan smiled. “To the bathroom. You’re too stubborn to go get stitches, so I’ll fix you up with my first-aid kit.”

When she turned and headed back down the hall, Cameron released a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d bottled up. Had he been the only one thinking about what would happen if they kissed? The way she’d looked at him, his mouth, as though she wanted more, wasn’t something he’d made up. But the desire flashing in her eyes was gone in a second.

What was going on in that head of hers? More to the point, what the hell was he going to do if her feelings did match his?

“Cam?”

Pushing off the edge of the counter, Cameron moved through the kitchen. They were both sleep deprived; that was all. He’d been without a woman for so long, was so wrapped up in work, and Megan had quite a bit on her plate, as well.

Once daylight came, once reality settled back in and the ambience was gone, this intense moment would be forgotten. Wouldn’t it?

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