The Engagement Project / Her Surprise Hero: The Engagement Project / Her Surprise Hero
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But Gage either didn’t notice or didn’t care that she was rambling almost incoherently, because he asked, “Is there anything I can say that would talk you into hanging around for another half an hour or so?”
“Why do you want me to hang around?” she asked bluntly.
He lifted one broad shoulder in a half shrug. “I’m kind of stuck trying to figure out a birthday present and I would really appreciate a woman’s input.”
“A birthday present?”
“For my seven-year-old niece,” he clarified.
“I don’t know a lot about kids,” she told him.
“Yeah, but you probably know more than me. Please?”
It wasn’t the word so much as the silent entreaty in those golden brown eyes. And if there was a woman alive who could say “no” to such a plea—and Gage’s reputation led her to believe that there wasn’t—she’d have to be a stronger woman than Megan because, even while her mind was scrambling for a reason to refuse, she was nodding her head.
Between his four nieces, Gage had garnered a lot of experience in gift buying over the past several years, most of it successful. But he always seemed to strike out where Lucy was concerned.
His youngest niece was a mystery to him. With the other girls, at least when they were younger, he could usually go into any store and pick up the newest and hottest toy. Of course, Gracie was almost a teenager now, so gift certificates to her favorite clothing stores were an obvious solution. The twins, Eryn and Allie, were close to the double digits and though they had little in common aside from their golden hair and green eyes, were both easily pleased. But Lucy, on the verge of her seventh birthday, continued to baffle him.
She was quiet—which maybe wasn’t so unusual considering that she was the youngest of four sisters—and very intense. Whatever she did, she did with 100 percent of her attention on the task, whether that task was reading a book, building a LEGO sculpture or kicking a soccer ball. He’d never known anyone—especially not a child—with such focus.
But the first time he’d met Megan Roarke, he’d been struck by the uncanny sense that he’d just been introduced to the woman his youngest niece would be twenty years in the future. It was more than that they were both blue-eyed blondes—it was the quiet intelligence that shone in their eyes and the concentrated intensity with which they applied themselves to a challenge. So he figured it had to be some kind of sign that he’d arrived at the mall to search for a birthday gift and he’d found the research scientist instead.
He led the way to the toy store and she followed. He knew she wasn’t the type to talk unless she had something to say and he didn’t mind the silence. It was a pleasant change from frivolous conversation, although he did wonder why she didn’t seem to want to talk to and flirt with him, as most women—and particularly those who knew him as the boss’s youngest and only unmarried son—were inclined to do.
He pondered this thought as he negotiated through the maze of promotional displays and sale items toward the back section of the store. Then he wondered why he was pondering. So what if Megan wasn’t interested in him? He wasn’t interested in her, either. She was far too staid, too serious, not at all the type of woman he usually dated.
Of course, he hadn’t dated much at all in the past year and he wasn’t looking for a date now. He was just looking for help in picking out a birthday gift for his niece.
Megan’s eyes widened as she turned down an aisle that was stacked floor to ceiling with pink packages of various shapes and sizes.
“This is where I generally start,” he told her. “Usually as long as it’s something new and in a big box, Eryn and Allie are happy.”
“Then why do you need my help?”
“Because it’s Lucy’s birthday.”
“How many nieces do you have?”
“Four,” he answered. “Lucy, who’s going to be seven, is the youngest, the twins—Eryn and Allie—are almost ten and Gracie is twelve.”
“I really don’t know a lot about kids,” Megan said again.
“But you have an advantage over me in that you were once a seven-year-old girl yourself.”
“A very long time ago.”
He didn’t believe it was so very long ago. In fact, considering that she’d completed her master’s degree in biochemistry at Columbia University just shortly before she’d started working at Richmond Pharmaceuticals, he would bet she couldn’t be more than twenty-eight.
She looked younger, though. Both younger and prettier than he’d expected. Certainly prettier than any woman hiding in a lab should be, even with the thick-framed glasses. She wore little if any makeup, but her features didn’t need much artificial enhancement, and the ponytail she habitually wore emphasized the creamy complexion of her skin.
But there was a sweetness about her, too. A gentle innocence that was somehow both intriguing and intimidating. In any event, she was definitely too sweet for a guy like him.
Maybe that was why, prior to their paths crossing unexpectedly tonight, he’d barely given a second thought to Megan Roarke. In fact, he’d never thought about her at all except in relation to her work in the lab.
But their chance meeting—revealing unexpected evidence of her dry sense of humor—had snagged his attention. Or maybe it was the garment bag that had piqued his interest.
His mother bought a lot of her clothes from Chaundra’s Boutique, and it surprised him to learn that Megan shopped at the exclusive women’s store, too. She seemed more like the type to buy what she needed from Lab Coats ‘R’ Us, and it made him wonder exactly what was in the bag draped over her arm.
But he forced his attention away from the woman and to the task at hand.
“Anything bring back fond memories?” he asked, gesturing to the toys that surrounded them.
She paused in front of an elaborate three-story doll-house, her brow furrowed, as if she was trying to remember. “I didn’t play with Barbies. Well, sometimes with my sister,” she amended. “But only if I didn’t have a choice.”
“What did you play with?”
“My all-time favorite gift was a chemistry set—at least until I blew up the kitchen and my mother took it away from me.”
“I’ll bet that’s not a story you told when you interviewed for your job at R.P.”
Her lips tilted up at the corners. “Actually, I didn’t really blow up the kitchen at all. I just mixed together some ingredients that reacted violently and spewed a sticky mess all over everything.”
“Mentos and Coke?” he guessed.
“It was a slight variation on that,” she told him, her eyes sparkling behind the lenses of her glasses. “And the explosion much more spectacular.”
Gage lost track of what she was saying, stunned by the realization that her eyes weren’t blue, as he’d always assumed, but violet.
In the almost three years they’d worked in the same lab—albeit in different areas—he’d never noticed the unique color. On the other hand, there was probably a lot about her that he’d never noticed because she wasn’t the type of woman who usually drew his attention. And he was starting to think that might have been a distinct oversight on his part.
“I’m not sure if chemistry is Lucy’s thing,” he said now, forcing his attention back to the matter at hand. “Although my sister-in-law probably wouldn’t appreciate kitchen explosions any less than the bugs her youngest daughter is always bringing into the house.”
“She’s into bugs?” Megan asked, sounding intrigued.
He nodded. “Completely fascinated by anything creepy-crawly.”
“Then that’s where you start looking for a gift.”
“You’re not honestly suggesting that I should give bugs to Lucy?”
“Of course not.” She smiled again. “She would probably prefer to get them herself.”
Baffled by that response, Gage wordlessly followed Megan to the science & nature department on the other side of the store, where she proceeded to point out magnifying glasses and bug boxes and books and all kinds of other must-haves for an aspiring entomologist.
Gage found her enthusiasm so contagious that there was soon an impressive assortment of packages piled at his feet, beside the dress bag Megan had unceremoniously dumped on top of a display of ladybug houses so that she had both hands free to explore the offerings.
“Look at this,” she said, turning to him with yet another box in her hands.
“What is it?”
“It’s a NASA-inspired ant farm. The bugs live in and tunnel through the gel, which serves as their food and water, too, so it’s very low maintenance. It also has LEDs that highlight the tunnels and let the unit function as a night-light.”
“That’s … practical,” Gage decided. “If maybe a little … weird.”
“You don’t have to like it,” Megan reminded him. “So long as your niece does.”
“True,” he allowed, even while he wondered if his niece’s mother would be so philosophical.
Before Megan could say anything else, her wrist beeped. She glanced at her watch, then thrust the ant farm into his hands. “Sorry,” she said. “But I have to run.”
“No, I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time,” he told her, though he was more sorry that she had to go.
She looked at the pile of potential gifts on the floor, then at the box he held in his hands. “I hope Lucy likes whatever you get for her birthday.”
“I’m sure she will, thanks to you.”
She smiled at that, then lifted her hand and sort of waved. “I guess I’ll see you at work on Monday.”
He nodded, and watched as she walked away. Her oversize shirt was tucked into baggy pants that gave no hint of any curves beneath, and yet, the subtle sway of her hips was distinctly feminine and decidedly intriguing.
He shook his head, as if that action might banish the unexpected thought. She really wasn’t his type. And even if she was, he had enough on his mind right now without the added complication of a woman.
When she was out of sight, he grabbed a vacant cart and loaded it up—then spotted the abandoned garment bag. Despite his recent admonition, he couldn’t deny the anticipation that surged through his veins as he tossed it on top of the pile of gifts.
Now he didn’t have to wait until Monday to see the intriguing Megan Roarke again.
Chapter Two
Megan wasn’t surprised to find that her sister Ashley’s Honda was already in the driveway of the town house they shared when she got home from her trip to the mall. She was surprised to see Paige Wilder’s Audi parked behind it.
Paige was their cousin, though both Megan and Ashley thought of her as another sister since she’d lived with them while they were in high school, and they always included her in any plans they made together. A family-law attorney with a practice that seemed to get busier and busier each year, Paige had declined more invitations than she’d accepted in recent months, so Megan was doubly pleased that she was there tonight.
As she made her way through the kitchen, following their voices toward the dining room, she noticed the two bottles of merlot on the counter, one of which was already uncorked. Another great thing about Paige—whenever she did make an appearance, she could always be counted on to bring the wine.
“Are we planning on doing some serious drinking tonight?” she asked.
“Is your mother coming?” Paige countered.
Megan had forgotten that detail—or maybe put it deliberately out of her mind.
“In that case, two bottles might not be enough,” she warned, accepting the glass that her sister poured for her as she boosted herself onto one of the high-back chairs at the pub-style table.
“I asked Paige to come early so that we could get most of the details worked out before Mom gets here,” Ashley explained.
“You mean, before she can take over,” Megan said.
Her sister nodded, as Paige muttered, “Good luck with that.”
Megan believed that Lillian Roarke had tried to be a good mother to her daughters, and a good aunt to the niece who was dumped in her care whenever a military crisis called Paige’s father to duty. The problem was she didn’t have a maternal bone in her body.
What Lillian did have were exacting standards and high expectations. And while she appeared outwardly supportive of both of her children, what masqueraded as praise was often barely concealed criticism, and encouragement was often a thinly veiled expression of doubt. Even after twenty-five years, Megan hadn’t become immune to her mother’s negativity.
Had there not been doctors and nurses present to witness her birth, Megan might have questioned whether there was truly any familial connection between herself and her mother. Lillian had never been the type to wipe tears or kiss boo-boos or snuggle under the covers to chase away bad dreams. But when there were events to be planned—graduations and engagement parties, for example—she was always front and center to ensure that everything was done just right.
Lillian had always been more concerned about appearances than reality, and at the celebration of her daughter’s engagement, she would be the smiling and supportive mother-of-the-bride-to-be despite her frequently spoken belief that twenty-eight-year-old Ashley was making a mistake in marrying so quickly—and especially in marrying Trevor Byden.
It was rare for Megan to agree with her mother on anything, but she had to admit—if only to herself—that she shared some of those concerns regarding Ashley’s engagement. While she liked Trevor well enough, and there was no doubt that the accountant was devoted to her sister, she wasn’t convinced that Ashley loved him as much as she loved what he was offering her—marriage and the hope of having the babies she wanted so badly.
“So where’s the dress?” Paige’s question jolted her out of her reverie. “I can’t wait to see it on you.”
“Dress?” Megan echoed, then closed her eyes as realization hit. “Oh, no.”
Ashley set a tray of crudités on the table. “Oh, no, what?”
Megan swallowed another mouthful of wine. “I kind of—uh—forgot it.”
“Forgot it? Where? How?” Her sister impatiently tossed the questions at her. “I talked to you while you were at the boutique buying it.”
And Megan knew she’d had the dress when she’d left the store, and when she’d run into Gage and when they’d gone into the toy store. Then she’d put it down somewhere and had obviously forgotten to pick it up again. But how could she admit that to her sister?
“I forgot my keys in the boutique,” she hedged.
“I’m not worried about your keys,” Ashley said.
“And when I went back to get them,” she continued as if her sister hadn’t spoken, “I ran into someone I know.”
“A man,” Paige guessed.
Megan frowned. “What makes you think that?”
“There was the slightest hesitation before you said someone and your cheeks immediately turned pink.”
“You must be deadly on cross-examination,” Ashley mused.
“It’s a talent,” Paige acknowledged, then turned her attention back to Megan. “So—who is he?”
“Just someone from the lab.”
“Workplace romances are inherently plagued with problems,” her cousin warned.
“There’s no romance.”
“Obviously something happened to make you forget your dress,” Ashley pointed out.
“He asked me to help him pick out a birthday gift.”
“Not for another woman?” Paige demanded.
Megan shook her head. “For his niece.”
“Oh.” Her sister smiled. “That’s sweet.”
It was kind of sweet. And after Megan had gotten over the nervousness evoked by Gage’s mere presence, she’d been impressed to realize that he really did care about finding a gift the little girl would like.
“So we went to the toy store, and I must have put the dress down—”
“And picked up stars in your eyes,” Paige interjected.
Megan shook her head. “I have no illusions.”
Ashley frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“He’s just not the type of man who would ever notice a woman like me.”
“Define a woman like you,” Paige demanded.
Megan loved that her cousin and her sister were so quick to defend her, but family loyalty didn’t allow either of them to see her as clearly as she saw herself. She wasn’t beautiful or sexy or charismatic, qualities that both Paige and Ashley had in spades. She was the girl next door, the reliable friend, the neighborhood pal. And that was why she and Gage Richmond would never be anything more than colleagues and possibly friends.
“I only meant—”
The doorbell chimed, sounding a reprieve.
“That will be Mom,” she said, pushing her chair away from the table.
“Mom doesn’t ring the doorbell,”Ashley reminded her.
When Megan opened the door, her sister’s statement was confirmed. It wasn’t Lillian Roarke on the doorstep. It was Gage Richmond.
“I called Lois Edmond in H.R. to find out where you lived,” he told her.
“Why?” Megan asked, too stunned by his unexpected appearance to think of anything else to say.
“Because you forgot this—” he held up the bag from Chaundra’s Boutique”—in the toy store, and I didn’t know if it was something you needed tonight.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not. But thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Before Megan could say anything else, she heard footsteps in the hall and knew that curiosity had drawn her sister and her cousin to the door to check out their visitor.
“Hi, I’m Ashley,” she said. “Megan’s sister.”
“I would have guessed that,” he said.
“Really?” Ashley said, while Megan resisted the urge to snort her disbelief. No one who didn’t already know they were related had ever commented on a resemblance between the sisters.
“You have the same eyes,” he explained, an observation that made Megan rethink her own opinion of Gage Richmond.
While people frequently commented on Ashley’s unusual eyes, they rarely took note of Megan’s, hidden behind her glasses. Maybe he wasn’t quite as shallow and self-absorbed as he was painted by his reputation.
“Handsome and observant,” Paige noted with approval.
Megan found herself wishing for an earthquake again. Hadn’t she embarrassed herself in front of the boss’s son enough already without her sister and cousin adding to her humiliation?
“My cousin Paige,” Megan told him, reluctantly making the introduction.
“And you are?” Ashley prompted the man on the doorstep.
“Would you believe the deliveryman from the boutique?” Megan suggested before Gage could reply.
“No,” her sister replied flatly, not taking her eyes off of Gage.
Not that Megan could blame her for that.
“Gage Richmond,” he said, and offered one of his infamous heart-stopping smiles.
“Thanks for bringing the bag,” Megan said, silently urging him along before her well-intentioned but misguided family members could say or do anything to embarrass her further. After all, she didn’t need their help when she’d already done a fine job of that entirely on her own.
“Yes, thank you,” Ashley said. “Since the dress is for my engagement party, I very much appreciate that you returned it to Megan.”
“It was my pleasure,” Gage said. “And bringing it by gave me another chance to thank your sister for her help with my shopping.”
“Handsome, observant, considerate and appreciative,” Paige amended, with a nod of approval. “Why don’t you come in for a glass of wine so we can chat some more?”
“I’m sure Gage has somewhere else that he needs to be,” Megan interrupted quickly, desperately.
She caught the gleam of amusement in his eyes and suspected that he was considering Paige’s invitation, if only because he knew she didn’t want him to. But when he finally spoke, it was to say, “As a matter of fact, I should be getting home. I have some birthday presents to wrap.”
“Another time?” Paige said.
“Thank you again.” Megan spoke clearly, determined to take control of the situation—and the flutters in her tummy.
Gage nodded, accepting the dismissal, before turning his attention to the two women hovering in the doorway behind her. “It was nice meeting you both.”
“You, too,” they chorused, leaning closer to watch him walk down the driveway.
Though Megan was probably even more reluctant to tear her gaze from his retreating form, she firmly closed the door and turned back toward the kitchen.
Paige raised her brows. “Now I understand why you forgot the dress.”
Megan held the bag aloft, eager to talk about anything but Gage Richmond. “Didn’t you say you wanted to see this?”
“Later.” Ashley took it from her and hung it in the closet. “Right now, I want to hear more about Mr. Tall, Dark and Yummy.”
“There’s nothing more to tell,” Megan insisted, turning back toward the kitchen as the door opened behind her again.
As Ashley had noted when the bell rang earlier, their mother wasn’t the type to observe such formalities at their home.
“Who was that just leaving?” Lillian Roarke asked in lieu of a greeting.
Before Megan could reply, Paige said, “That was Megan’s new boyfriend.”
Gage was wrapping Lucy’s presents—or at least stuffing them into decorative bags with tissue—when Allan Richmond stopped by on his way home after a late meeting. He’d seen his dad at work earlier and would be seeing him again at Lucy’s birthday party the next day, so Gage guessed there was a specific reason for this visit now, even if he couldn’t figure out what that might be.
He offered his father a beer and a microwaved meal. Allan took the drink but declined the frozen lasagna.
“Grace is holding dinner for me,” he explained.
“Must be nice to go home to a hot meal,” Gage said, shoving the box back into the freezer.
“It’s even nicer to have someone to go home to.”
“Is that the real reason you stopped by—to extol the virtues of married life?”
It certainly wouldn’t be the first time—nor the last. Though Gage couldn’t remember exactly when his parents had become so interested in his marital status, he thought it was some time after his brother and sister-in-law had announced—after the birth of their fourth child—that they weren’t planning on having any more. Grace absolutely doted on her grandbabies and had apparently turned her attention to her younger son in the hope that he would settle down and add to the clan.
Actually, Craig and Gage were Grace’s stepsons, but she had always been more of a mother to the boys than the woman who had given birth to them. As a result, there wasn’t anything Gage wouldn’t do for Grace—except marry and have children.
“No,” his father responded to his question. “I stopped by to tell you that Dean Garrison is planning to retire at the end of the summer.”
The announcement wasn’t really news to Gage. Garrison, the current vice president of Clinical Science, had been talking about retirement for a few years now.
“You’re one of several candidates whose name has been put forward to fill the position.”
“One of several?” Gage echoed, unable to hide his surprise.
Though no explicit promises had ever been made, he’d always believed that the job would be his when Garrison retired. It was all he’d ever wanted, everything he’d worked toward.
“I want to give you the job,” Allan told him.
“But?”
“But the fact that your name is Richmond isn’t justification enough. You need to prove that you’re V.P. material.”
“Hasn’t my work over the past half dozen years proven it already?”
“Your work has been exemplary. It’s your reputation outside of work that has led some of our more conservative board members to question your maturity and commitment.”
“My reputation outside of work?” he found himself echoing his father’s words again.
“Your inability to commit to a relationship,” Allan clarified. “Moving from one relationship to another, from one woman to another, could give the impression that you’re shortsighted—unable or unwilling to focus on the long-term.