The knowledge made him heady.
Because they had all night, he held her close and then leaned back, prepared to take his time. He gazed at her torso, noticed the spattering of freckles along her collarbone. Drank in the sight of her firm pale flesh, each breast tinged in pink...and he cupped her tenderly.
She responded by moaning, raising her arms and kissing him greedily.
It was only natural for him to trail his lips lower. To her jaw. To the line of freckles. To the places his fingers had already been.
Brooke Anne buried her hands in his hair, as if she didn't want him to stop.
He flicked his tongue against her nipple. Watched with pleasure as it hardened into a tight bud. Glanced up to see Brooke Anne's reaction.
Her eyes were closed, her back arched.
Morgan smiled.
This was exactly how he knew making love to her would be. Slow. Exquisite. Thoroughly enjoyable. He ran his fingers over the jut of her hip. Skimmed the small indention at the top of her thigh. Felt the satin of her underwear...and explored some more. Brooke Anne gasped and turned her head to one side.
This was good. Very good.
The sheer feel of her - and the knowledge that she was offering herself to him - did more for his body than any amount of sexual expertise ever could. Her hands stroked his back, coaxing him on.
He couldn't wait to enter her...to luxuriate in her warmth. He had the distinct thought that Brooke Anne was transforming him, making him a better person, a more complete man....
"We ought to move to my bed," Morgan said, pressing quick kisses to her lips.
She sat up slowly. Stared at him in confusion, breathing heavily, as if she'd just run a race. "Oh. All right."
He stood, bringing her with him. Circling his hands around her waist, he kissed her temple. She nuzzled his neck and looked up at him uncertainly. "'I, uh, haven't had much experience with this."
He didn't care. "It's okay." Tenderly, he picked her up and laid her on his bed. Her white pale skin contrasted sharply with the dark plaid of his comforter. "You're beautiful, Brooke Anne," he said reverently. Slowly, he pulled off his slacks, then his boxers, until he stood naked in front of her.
He met her gaze and hoping his obvious enthusiasm didn't scare her, forced himself to stand still while she quietly took in the sight of him.
All she did was hold her arms out to him. "Morgan," she whispered, as he bent over her.
Hooking his thumbs under the elastic band of her panties, he edged them down over her thighs. Then he pressed her to him, gasping when their bodies made contact.
It felt so right. So real. Morgan slid his hands around her, smiling when he felt how ready she was for him.
She moved her hips against his. Eyes wide, Brooke Anne moaned.
Deftly, Morgan retrieved a condom from his bedside table, opened the packet and sheathed himself. She covered his shoulder and his neck with little butterfly kisses as he did so.
"Brooke Anne," he said, positioning himself over her. "You've got to believe...there's no one else...."
"But you," she finished, when their bodies finally joined. "There's no one else for me but you."
There was nothing more to say.
Brooke Anne woke up several hours later, her body curiously sore, yet completely relaxed. Then she remembered what she'd been doing before she went to sleep.
She blushed at the memory. It was as if a dam had been broken in their relationship. Suddenly, all they wanted was to be alone with each other. Naked, Exploring.
Stretching against Morgan's sleeping form, she recalled the patience and care he'd shown the first time they'd made love - and the passion he'd displayed when they'd done so again, the fierce expression in his eyes in the second before he'd climaxed.
Right at the moment when she had.
It was the stuff fantasies were made of.
"Brooke Anne? You awake?" Morgan asked groggily, flopping his calf over her thigh.
"Yes."
He propped his head up on his hand and caressed her with a sleepy, shimmering gaze. "You okay?"
"Oh, yes."
That brought a smile from him-an incredibly masculine one. "Me, too." Yawning, he asked, "What time is it?"
"Almost midnight, I think."
"You want to stay here with me?"
Did she? Part of her never wanted the night to end...but another part was ready to go home and let the past few hours sweep over her in private. "Maybe I should get on home."
Morgan studied her face, then cast his eyes downward, skimming her body with a heated look.
"Why don't you stay just a little longer?" he asked, as he bent to nuzzle her neck.
"Umm," she muttered, distracted by the feel of his stubbly cheeks rubbing against her tender flesh. "I...probably should..."
He raised his head, leaving her body practically screaming in dismay. "You should what?" he rasped, devilment in his eyes.
What could she say? Her body was in charge now. "Stay," she murmured.
As he brought his lips back down to her neck, Morgan whispered into her ear, "Good choice."
When Brooke Anne woke again, she peered at the digital clock next to the bed, then at Morgan. Those khaki eyes were wide open and staring at her intently. "Hey" she said.
"Hey."
"It's 10:00 a.m.," she mumbled, waiting for him to slide an arm around her and pull her closer. "I can't believe it's so late."
Instead, he sat up. Glanced away. "I can't, either. I've got to get going."
"Where?" she asked, a warning bell sounding in her head.
"Work."
"Work? It's Sunday."
"I...I've got a project that's due on Monday morning. I wasn't able to spend enough time on it this week." For a moment it looked as if he was going to say more, but then he shook his head. "Sorry. I'd better hit the shower," he said before climbing out of bed and disappearing from the room. A few seconds later, the bathroom door clicked shut.
Well, so much for inviting her to shower with him, Brooke Anne mused. Still wrapped in a warm haze from their wonderful night, she looked around his taupe-colored bedroom. She noted the expensive custom curtains and bedspread, the mahogany wood floor and the intricately woven Persian carpet over it. The antique figurine that looked as if it had cost a year's salary. Slowly but surely, a sense of foreboding coursed through her.
What was she doing here? Had what they'd just shared been a mistake? Old feelings of being betrayed by Russell assailed her. The memory of cleaning Caroline's house while Morgan breezed in for a party tumbled forth.
Panic set in.
The sound of the shower coming to life spurred Brooke Anne to action. She suddenly felt embarrassed and all too naked. Exposed. Vulnerable.
She eased herself out of bed and slipped on her clothes, then found her shoes where she'd kicked them off last night.
She made the bed because the sight of Morgan's expensive sheets and designer coat lying in a mess at the foot of his plasma TV made her feel at loose ends.
The water pipes groaned as Morgan shut the shower off, causing Brooke Anne's heart to beat a little faster.
Not wanting him to find her sitting on his bed when he came out, she ventured into the kitchen. Gleaming stainless-steel appliances lined the walls. The countertops were made of mottled brown granite and felt cool and sleek under her hands. The cool surface helped calm Brooke Anne's nerves. Maybe she was just overreacting. Maybe she was being ridiculous - Morgan really did have to go in to work. He hadn't meant to be so abrupt.
When Morgan appeared in the kitchen doorway, smelling of soap and aftershave, she smiled, ready to forget the awkwardness of the last few minutes.
"You're still here," he said.
Yes, she was. Her bottom lip trembled. She bit it hard. Struggling to keep her voice calm, she said, "I couldn't leave. I don't have a car, remember?"
For a second, he looked guilty. "Sorry, I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I just thought when I saw the b
ed made and you gone that..." His voice drifted off.
"You thought what, Morgan? That I'd cleaned your house and then left?"
Something in his gaze flickered dangerously. "That's not what I said."
"Well, I have all my things together, if you're ready to take me home."
He glanced at his shiny designer coffeemaker. "Do you want coffee or something?"
Or something? Like a little warmth, perhaps? "No, thank you."
"Okay, I'll drive you home, then."
The car ride home was painfully awkward. Brooke Anne did everything she could to keep her mouth shut and her expression vacant. What good would it do to tell him that she'd expected some sweet words and a loving hug this morning?
The two of them were obviously completely different. Oh, they enjoyed each other on a certain level, that went without saying. But as far as a basis for a long-term commitment went, they didn't have much.
She wasn't sure anymore.
After what seemed like hours, Morgan pulled into her building's parking lot. "I'll call you soon, Brooke."
"Don't worry about it."
He raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about? After last night..."
"I'm not sure if last night was a good idea. This morning is telling me that maybe it wasn't."
"I don't know why you're saying that."
"You don't know why? Morgan, you practically bolted from your bed after you saw me in it."
"That was only because I was late for work."
She felt so used and uncomfortable, she couldn't resist snapping at him. "On a Sunday?"
He looked away. "I've told you that I'm not great at expressing myself."
"And I've told you that I don't deal very well with rejection."
The words hung between them. Morgan stared at her warily. Brooke Anne fought hard to stare back and not let herself become overwhelmed by emotion.
"I'm sorry about this morning. Really." He ran his fingers through his damp hair and sighed. "Look, how about I stop by later tonight? Tomorrow?"
"I'm going to be busy with the hospital. The Christmas party for the kids is on Thursday."
"Do you need some help?"
"With what? Are you going to help me wrap Barbies?"
"I thought maybe I could give a donation."
It took every ounce of her strength not to fling something at his head and tell him that giving someone a couple of hundred dollars was not going to make everything okay.
But then...her mind stilled. Who was she kidding? She'd taken money from him in a heartbeat. And, Lord knew, the Christmas fund at the hospital could use all the help it could get.
"Do what you want, Morgan." she whispered.
His earnest expression collapsed. "Brooke -"
With that, she got out of the car, and walked up the three flights of stairs to her apartment.
So different than Morgan's town house that it was almost laughable.
*****
Chapter Twenty-Nine
"Did you get the packages I sent last week?"
Brooke repositioned the phone under her ear and strove for patience. "I did, Mom, thank you. I'll have mine out to you soon."
"Don't worry about presents this year, sweetie. It'll be enough just to know that you're happy."
There was something in her mom's voice that made her wary. "What are you talking about?"
"Brooke Anne, can we be frank with each other? I know you're having a difficult time financially right now -"
Her shoulders slumped. "I am."
"And I know you're not quite ready to see Russell yet."
"No, I'm not." Brooke settled more comfortably on the couch and felt the weight slowly lift off her shoulders. It felt so good to finally be honest with her mother. Why hadn't she told her the truth in the first place?
"Is there a Morgan?"
"Yes...but things with him are confusing."
"Why?"
"He.. .he's completely different than me. He's emotionally closed-off, and rich."
"I see...."
"I think I love him," Brooke Anne continued in a rush, "but I never know how he's going to act from minute to minute."
"Sounds like he needs you, my dear."
She couldn't help smiling. Her mother thought so highly of her. "I don't know. Everything about him - his job, his house, his clothes, his friends - screams money. And just when it seemed like we were finally past all that, he started acting weird and distant."
"Gosh, Brooke Anne. He sounds awful."
"No. No, he's not."
"What's he like, then?" her mom inquired.
"He's fun, and he tries hard. Morgan didn't have a lot of love growing up.... His mom's not like you. He has a hard time expressing his feelings." She shrugged her shoulders to loosen them. "But he did write me some notes. And he sent me roses once."
"Ah."
Ah? "What does that mean?"
"Just that it sounds to me like you two might be a pretty good match, after all. You need him to remember what love is like...and he needs you to show him what love is really all about."
"Do you think so? You don't think we're too different? That a relationship between us is doomed?"
"No. No, I don't, Brooke Anne."
"But, Mom -"
"Honey, everything about you and Russell seemed so right...but it wasn't at all, was it? You can just never predict what's going to happen in the future, so you have to take your chances."
No, she couldn't predict anything, Brooke Anne decided, as she sat at her desk the following morning and visited with her employees. On the spur of the moment, they'd decided to have an impromptu Christmas party, and for some reason, they'd made her the guest of honor.
"I don't know if I should tell you this," she said, glancing at each of the four other women, "but the boss is supposed to treat the employees to a Christmas lunch. Not the other way around."
Tomi picked up another one of Vivian's sand tarts before replying. "Who says?"
"It's just how it's done."
"If we waited for you to organize our party, we'd probably still be waiting on Groundhog Day," Karen said between bites of a pecan tart.
Brooke Anne couldn't deny that. She really had been overwhelmed.
"We know you've been working hard," Monique said gently. "You shouldn't feel bad about us doing this."
"Yeah. You can repay us by telling us what's been going on with you and Morgan."
Vivian nodded. "We heard all about the incident at the soiree house."
Brooke Anne laughed but deftly changed the subject. "If Tomi and I had had any idea that place would be so big, we would've stopped by every one of your houses and made you come with us."
"I'm glad you didn't. Cleaning expensive stuff makes me nervous," Karen said.
While the others argued the benefits of cleaning houses versus office buildings, Brooke Anne stared at the treats spread out in front of them and tried to think of another way to deflect the conversation from her love life. "Thanks again for throwing that feast," she said, when the conversation had died down. "At least, I do have a little something for all of you, as well - your Christmas bonuses."
The women smiled as she produced the envelopes, but none of them held out their hands. In fact, the way they were sharing glances made Brooke Anne feel totally confused. "What's going on?"
Tomi shifted restlessly. "We got to talking and, well...we don't know if we really need bonuses this year."
"What?"
Tomi looked at her co-workers, who nodded. She bit her lip. "We were thinking that this party is enough. We'll plan on bonuses next year."
Brooke Anne was stunned. "But, Tomi - what about that Visa bill and everything?"
"Ronnie got a good bonus of his own."
"We know money's tight for you, too, Brooke Anne," Karen said. "And with everything you've been through with Morgan... It just doesn't seem right to take money you made by going on that date. We don't need the checks that bad."
Br
ooke Anne opened her mouth, then shut it just as quickly. Her employees' refusal of their hard-won bonuses had completely thrown her for a loop.
Tomi popped open a bottle of fake champagne. "Who wants some of this fancy cider?"
"I'll have some," Monique said, holding up a plastic cup. "Gosh, look at us, acting all high-class. Having our own little office party."
Brooke Anne fought hard to regain control. "Listen. You're all going to take these checks, and you'd better go buy something nice with them, too. I'm proud that I'm able to give them to you."
Karen's eyes shone with respect, but she kept her hands tucked firmly in her jeans. "You spend it, Brooke Anne."
"Oh, no. I want to do this. Really! I've worked hard to be able to do this. If you don't take them, I'll feel horrible."
"It's practically blood money"
No. No, it wasn't. It was money rightfully earned, and her employees deserved every cent. "Everything that's been going on with Morgan, that's my business. It has nothing to do with the fact that you deserve your bonuses. And the problems Morgan and I have been having are mostly because of some stupid hang-ups about love."
"So.. .you like him?" Vivian asked.
"I do," Brooke Anne whispered. "I like him a lot."
"And does he know that?"
She thought about the night they'd made love. About the way they'd parted in the morning. The things they'd said to each other...and hadn't. "Yes. He does. At least I think he does."
"Humph," Tomi sniffed.
"So, please take the checks and let me tell you Merry Christmas."
The other women looked at each other, then one by one stepped forward and accepted an envelope. But instead of receiving a smile and thank-you, Brooke Anne found herself being hugged by each one of her employees. The contact reinforced what she'd long suspected - no matter what, going to the dance for the bonus money had been worth it. She loved her friends, and loved that she was able to show her appreciation in a way that would make their holidays brighter. Blinking furiously, she said, "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas right back at ya," Vivian replied with a laugh. "Now, who's ready for another pecan tart?"
"Warren, do you have a minute?" Brooke Anne asked as she poked her head into WJB Shoes the following afternoon.
Cinderella Christmas Page 18
