Waking Up Married. Mira Lyn Kelly

throughout.

      She was strong. Tough.

      Everything he wanted.

      Her mouth pulled to the side. “I don’t suppose you happen to know where I might find my dress?”

      Images of that superfine, silky bit of blue hitting him in the face flashed through his mind; only, where the dress went after had been as low a priority then as it was now.

      “Megan. I’m sorry. If I’d realized, I would have been telling you everything, trying to fill in the night, explaining what happened. Why didn’t you ask?”

      * * *

      Closing her eyes, Megan drew a steadying breath.

      Why? Because the details weren’t important and she could decipher the broad strokes on her own. This gorgeous, carefree guy had tempted her with all the things she’d sworn she could live without...the attention of a charming, desirable man, the chance to be utterly spontaneous, the indulgence in a night of reckless excess she wouldn’t even consider once she had another person dependent on her. And so her pickled mind had rationalized this one last adventure. Vegas-style.

      Maybe her blocking out their time together was some sort of defense mechanism.

      Looking at this man alone made her believe whatever happened between them could very well have been the kind of phenomenal a grown woman didn’t recover from, and her inner psyche was simply trying to protect her.

      “Megan?” The deep, rich baritone cut into her thoughts an instant before the heat of his hands settled over her shoulders, jolting her back to the now. “Why?”

      “It doesn’t matter.”

      And then those strong hands were turning her around, gripping her tight. “You’re wrong. I don’t think you understand. Last night wasn’t just some goof to be rectified this morning.”

      She blinked, trying to look away even as she felt herself stumbling further into the intensity of Connor’s dark eyes. He thought there was something meaningful between them? Some potential?

      This wasn’t what she needed to hear.

      “It has to be.” She couldn’t invest in potential again. She didn’t have the time and she didn’t have the will. “I have a plan.”

      She’d expected him to back off a step, ask what she was talking about, but instead that single corner of his mouth turned up to the slightest degree. As if suddenly he found himself on better footing than he’d expected. “Yeah, but my plan’s better. Even you think so.”

      She’d told him?

      Her chin pulled back as she felt the sting of self-betrayal and cursed her inner psyche.

      Was nothing sacred?

      Images of the laughter came back to her in a sickening rush, and she couldn’t help but wonder if all her goals and intentions had been a part of the joke. Only, as she looked into Connor’s eyes, some instinctive part of her knew it wasn’t the case.

      So what, then...

      “Oh, my God.” Her throat closed tight, trying to strangle the words she didn’t want to say. “Did you volunteer to be my sperm donor?”

      He was tall and handsome, without any obvious festering infections—

      “No.” His brows, already drawn low over his eyes, went even lower, obscuring what little chance she’d had to try to read a man who wasn’t exactly an open book to begin with. “Not really. Not like you’re thinking.”

      Not like she was thinking? Like what, then? she thought with a fresh wave of panic.

      Her eyes fell to the empty spot on her ring finger. He’d married her. So maybe it wasn’t so much a donation at all. Donations were free and clear...and this guy had already tied her down with a fairly significant string.

      He wanted dibs on her baby.

      He wanted a claim.

      Suddenly, her breath was coming faster than it should, and the air working its way in and out of her lungs felt thin and useless.

      “Wait, Megan. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I can tell from your face it’s wrong. Let me explain.”

      “You’re gay.” What else would a guy who looked like this be doing with her?

      “Uh...” That tilted smile was back and she knew she was right.

      “Okay, so you don’t want your parents to know? You need an heir or something to keep your trust fund?”

      “No—uh—I—uh—”

      Shaking her head, she closed her eyes. “Look, Carter, either way, it doesn’t matter. Whatever deal we might have worked out last night is off.”

      She’d been heavily intoxicated. Even if she’d signed a dozen documents, they would never stand up. She could walk away, unless—

      Her eyes shot wide as she stared up at him in horror. “Did you...try...to get me pregnant last night?”

      Connor coughed, his amused expression morphing into shock, confusion and something she really, really didn’t want to believe was guilt no matter how much it looked like it.

      His hand came up between them, but she didn’t care if he needed a minute to sort out his story or work through his defense. Spinning away, she banded her arms across her abdomen, sick with the knowledge of what she’d done. “Of all the stupid, self-sabotaging, dangerous—”

      “Megan.” The way he said her name made it half plea, half laugh.

      What had she done? Even if she wasn’t pregnant, she’d had unprotected sex with a man she didn’t know.

      ...patient zero...

      Her stomach pitched hard. “He could have an STD,” she gasped, her own anxiety pushing the words past her lips before she’d thought to stifle them.

      “Megan.” This time her name sounded strained coming through his lips. As though this guy was losing his patience.

      Tough. Whatever he was thinking, he’d have to put a pin in it. She had bigger fish to fry than worrying about his patience when her best-case scenario was not pregnant, not infected, but still having to push back her plan by six months to ensure enough time for any STDs to show up in the screen.

      “Damn it, Megan, look at me.” Those hands were on her again, spinning her around and holding her still as Connor got in her face.

      “One.” He let go of her to bring his thumb up. “I do not have any sexually transmitted diseases. I always use a condom and following the breakup of my yearlong committed relationship had myself tested, as a precaution, regardless. Two.” His index finger was next. “Neither is there a trust fund nor some executor to appease regarding it. Every cent I have, I earned on my own. Three, where the hell do you get this stuff?” Another finger. “Four, I didn’t marry you to get my hands on a baby. I married you because we had similar goals and priorities and expectations...and damn it, I married you because I liked you a hell of a lot too.”

      She shook her head, searching those impossible eyes. “But it doesn’t make sense—”

      He waved her off. “And five, I absolutely did not try to get you pregnant last night. We didn’t have sex.”

      Her jaw dropped.

      So he was gay.

      And why the revelation hit her like disappointment when she ought to be turning cartwheels, she couldn’t say. But she’d deal with it later.

      Only. then that mishmash of backward thinking was in play again, rising up with a victorious laugh at a thought that should have spurred outrage. “But I was naked,” she challenged, recalling she’d literally stumbled over her panties and hideous T-shirt sprinting to the bathroom. A lucky break considering how fast on her heels