No one believes her of course since Trevor put that sex video of us on the internet. But that doesn’t stop Grandma.
“No, Grandma. Mr. Payne isn’t my man, he’s my boss, remember I told you that.”
“What’s this I hear about a man? Morgana, you have a man in your life?” My father’s voice bellowed over the noise from the baseball game.
There was silence as I heard the television being switched off. I looked over and saw the men and “about to be dumped” girl coming toward us.
“The man Grandma was referring to is my boss Mr. Payne. There is nothing going on with us. The most that is happening is I am going on a trip to London with him next week for business. That’s all.”
My father’s jaw began to twitch and he raised his head to his full height. Daniel glanced at Dad and then mimicked his behavior.
“What has this Payne done to you, Morgana? Do I need to pay him a visit?” My father cracked his knuckles, and my brother tried desperately to do the same, with no effect.
“Dad. No, why is everyone acting like I’ve been attacked? He’s my boss. We don’t always get along, but that happens a lot with bosses and their assistants.”
“I don’t think we’ve met, I’m Penny by the way.” Daniel’s eye candy extended her arm at the worst time. I shook it giving her a crooked smile.
“I could have sworn it started with a J,” Mom mumbled under her breath before raising her eyebrow at me. “You are only going to London for a week, Morgana. Don’t you think that’s kind of a long time and so far away? Are you sure you have to go?”
I placed a comforting hand on my mom’s shoulder. “I will call you every day, Mom. Yes, I have to go to London. It’s my job. I’ll bring you back some tea from there.”
She seemed uneasy but nodded at the tea mention before returning to the kitchen. My mom loved her tea but hated her kids being far away.
Suddenly I was being pulled into a suffocating bear hug by my dad. He leaned down to whisper in my ear, “If that man ever hurts my baby girl you let me know and I will speak to him.”
I managed to break free from his death grip and nodded. “Fine, Dad.”
“That goes for me too, sis.” Daniel hit me on my back knocking the wind out of me for a few seconds. He wasn’t touchy-feely like my dad. The most I would get from Daniel was a slap to the head or a wrist burn to show he cared.
“I’m going into the kitchen before I die,” I squeaked out, trying to catch my breath.
Sitting back on the bar stool, I watched as Grandma pushed Mom aside to take over with the mashed potatoes.
“Annette, please let me help. You go spend some time with your daughter.”
That was my grandma’s way of telling my mom that she was doing it wrong. My mom came and sat beside me trying to push some loose tendrils behind my ears.
“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are, Morgana?”
“All the time, Mom.”
“Well, it’s true. If that Mr. Payne can’t see that, then he isn’t worth your energy.”
It’s going to be like this all night, isn’t it? Just focus on London, oh and my date tomorrow, and I will make it through the night.
“It doesn’t matter about Mr. Payne, Mom, because I met a guy online anyway.”
Her green eyes lit up as she grinned, transforming into a thirty-something right before my eyes. “Details, Morgana. Tell me all about him.”
I felt the heat rise up my neck, and suddenly I was like a fourteen-year-old again, unable to stop playing with my fingers as I told my mom about the guy I had a crush on.
“His name is Ric, and he works retail, so we work in the same industry. He loves comedy movies like me. He is a big Coen brothers fan, and we are meeting tomorrow for coffee.”
She nodded her approval. I could date a walrus and she would complement my choice. My mom was a bit old fashioned and thought I would only be happy if I were married, like her.
“Yeah, so what does he look like?”
“I find out tomorrow. We haven’t exchanged pictures yet. We want it to be a surprise.”
She clapped her hands together and glanced over at Grandma, who was focused on the pots on the stove.
“How romantic. How will you know each other? Are you both going to wear carnations or something?”
“Umbrellas.”
Mom scrunched her brow. “How do you wear umbrellas? Is that new lingo for something else?”
“No, he’s going to bring a blue plaid umbrella, and I’m going to bring my yellow umbrella.”
“Oh, I get it. I am so excited for you, love. You will have to tell me all about it. Did I tell you about how your father and I met?”
She looked dreamily off into the distance, and I knew there was no point in telling her that yes, she had told me a hundred times how they met.
I shrugged in response.
“It was thirty-five years ago, and James and I worked together. We were just coworkers, but it was very frowned upon to have interoffice relations, especially in the military. Then one day we got trapped in the supply closet. Only we weren’t trapped, he purposely locked us in there to be alone with me.”
My mom bit her lips to suppress a giggle that I knew would eventually come. I heard my grandma snort.
“Let’s just say there was no going back to being just coworkers after we got out. Sooooo romantic.”
I shook my head. “How was that romantic, Mom? He held you prisoner in a closet and then lied about how you both were in there?”
“Well, I thought it was romantic. I am sure one day you will look back on how you and your future husband met as the most romantic time of your life.”
“No, you won’t,” Grandma piped into the conversation.
Grandma, ever the realist.
“Sweets, your grandpa picked me up at a bar; we went home and had a one-night stand. The most unromantic meeting a couple can have. I happened to get pregnant from that night and your uncle Jackson was born nine months later. Needless to say, it was a shotgun wedding. Very little romance for us, but we did grow to love each other. I mean, sure, we humped like rabbits because your granddad was hot, but we didn’t fall in love until many years later. So, you never know.”
Both my mom and I had plugged our ears as we rocked ourselves in comfort. Leave it to Grandma to ruin a moment.
EIGHTEEN
Morgana's Problem
Her Date
I was slippery and so wet. And I looked like a banana.
There was a light drizzle outside on Sunday as I made my way to Beans & Beans & More Beans to meet Ric. Which would have been perfect as we were both bringing umbrellas. Only the thirty mile-per-hour winds whipping off the lake made it the opposite of perfect.
I looked wrong. So wrong, especially the banana bit.
I thought the yellow raincoat and matching boots would be cute. Give me that quirky look that some men like. As I caught a glimpse of myself on the L train I realized I didn’t appear cute, I looked like a piece of fruit.
The aroma of coffee and chocolate was the first to assault my senses as I pushed through the door. Despite my drenched state, the earthy, homey room put a smile on my face. My eyes darted over the large barrels of coffee beans next to the gray slate counter.
After removing the offending yellow, I ran my fingers through my hair to give the appearance of some maintenance. Thankfully I wore waterproof mascara.
Stepping farther into the shop my eyes made a note of the one person in line, a man with no umbrella. Trying to appear relaxed, I casually strolled up behind him and peered around the room.
The walls were covered with odd knick-knacks of figurines holding coffee cups and various children’s artwork in sleek metal and white frames. Most of the black tables and dark booths were taken by couples. There was a lone man about sixty, seated in an overstuffed leather chair staring at me with a big grin.
Was that him? He lied. He’s not thirty-four, more like sixty-four.
I swallowed
my unease and continued my search for a man with a blue plaid umbrella. The older gentleman had one of those big black golf umbrellas leaning against his chair, so I was hopeful my date wasn’t him.
Continuing my search, I gasped as I noticed a man’s hand cradling a blue plaid umbrella. His back was to me in a booth so I couldn’t make out what he looked like.
Cooling relief settled on me, and I glanced back at the older man to find him leering at a group of women at a table near him. Yuck.
After a few moments, I recited my order to the bored barista as he stood in front of a wall of coffee beans encased in glass. When I got the warm latte I took a deep breath and invoked my sexy casual walk across the light bamboo flooring to the booth that held the plaid umbrella.
I wondered if he was handsome, at least someone I was attracted to, as I made my way to the booth. Smoothing my hand down my hair for one last quick fix, I turned to face him only to shriek and drop my coffee.
“Mr. Payne?”
His eyes perused my body in confusion until he glanced at the yellow umbrella in my hand. He raised his eyebrows.
“Morgan . . . Morgana?”
Oh no.
We just stared at each other for a while. I finally moved to sit in the booth when one of the baristas came over with a mop to clean up the spilled coffee.
“So, you’re Ric, huh?” I said as I willed my hands not to lunge at him. He must have known it was me all along. That was why he didn’t want to trade pictures. I was such an idiot. Trying to be romantic my ass.
“Obviously, Morgan.” He pushed his large body forward causing the table to creak. He smelled of coffee and cinnamon as he seethed in front of me. “Did you know who I was? Was that why you were pressuring me for a picture, so you could do God knows what to my career?”
“What? No. You were the one who knew who I was. Don’t turn it around on me. You have a sick problem, playing games with me like this. And to think, I almost let you sex-chat me.” Some of my spit landed on the table between us. We both saw it, but I was too angry to care.
He sat back, his eyes wide. Somehow, I had shocked him with mentioning the sex-chat. Suddenly he was a prude. It wasn’t like that was the worst thing we have done together.
I tried to get out of the booth, but my rain gear was hooked on the table. I yanked until I heard a tearing sound. Mr. Payne stood and tried to help me, but I pushed him away.
“Don’t you even think about it. Haven’t you already done enough?”
“Morgana, I was just trying to help you with your coat.”
I managed to get my jacket free and inspected it, noticing a small tear on the back near the bottom hem. With much anger and clumsiness, I shrugged on the raincoat and hat to make my way to the exit. I felt a hand on my arm tugging me back.
“Morgana, let’s at least talk about this.”
Wrenching my arm from his grasp, I turned to face him. Mr. Payne was gracefully putting on his trench coat along with a black scarf, his usual debonair self. This only aggravated me more. I looked like a cartoon, and he appeared to have stepped out of a Burberry catalog.
“You may be the boss of me Monday through Friday, Ric, but not on Sunday. Not on Sunday,” I roared as I pushed open the door and stepped into the howling wind. Turning to the left, my body fought the gale force. Realizing I should have taken a right to get back home, I continued walking straight so I wouldn’t run into Mr. Payne again.
A minute later when I had finally made it to the corner, despite almost being knocked over a few times by gusts, I came to a halt as I was almost run over by a black Lincoln Town Car.
The back-passenger door opened, and I peered into the car to see Mr. Payne waving me inside. My face was so shredded at that point by the wind I would have gotten into a shipping crate if one appeared.
The tan leather interior was warm and soft, and once I shut the door, I melted into my seat. The car began to move as I finished buckling my seatbelt. I didn’t want to look at him as I felt his eyes on me.
“What?” I took my time to meet his gaze.
“You really had no idea it was me, Morgana?”
“No, Ric, I really didn’t. How could I have possibly known with the screen name, Hi-Ed-Junior? You said you worked retail, so does a quarter of the people in this city.”
His eyes searched the floor for a few seconds as he thought about what I said. His eyes turned to the front of the vehicle as he spoke, “You called me an ass among a few other names when we messaged each other.”
Having had enough, I faced the window. I felt bad for calling him names but did he really think I wouldn’t be angry about how he has treated me?
I noticed we pulled into the garage of one of the skyscrapers off Michigan Avenue.
“You are an ass, and I mean that in the most professional way possible, Ric.”
He sounded like he was crying and shame burned my ears. I didn’t think Mr. Payne was so sensitive so I turned to apologize and noticed tears. They were tears of laughter. His shoulders shook as he tried to cover his mouth with the back of his hand.
The shame cooled as I began to realize why he was laughing. It was a bit funny when I thought about it.
“Stop calling me Ric. It’s Henrik. Come on inside. I can make us some hot chocolate and we can figure out what to do.”
Noticing the car had come to a stop, I saw Henrik’s driver running around the car.
This day was a bust. I was wet and tired. The thought of being around my sexy yet infuriating boss wasn’t something I fancied.
“Just take me home. My pants are soaked and I only want a warm shower. Forgive me if I am not in the mood for talking right now.”
The door opened and before Henrik stepped out he reached a hand to me.
“I got those things too.”
“You have a pair of women’s jeans?”
He gave a lopsided grin like he was choosing just the right words. “No, but I can get a pair brought to you once you are done with your shower.”
A shiver ran up my spine. Naked. Shower. Henrik’s apartment.
“I don’t know, Henrik, perhaps it is best if I go home. Perhaps the coffee shop was a sign.”
“Look, Morgana, we are going to be in a foreign country for a week, living and working side by side. It is best if we work out any issues now, so things aren’t strained over there.”
He’s right. If I know myself, I won’t even be able to look at him tomorrow let alone for an entire week. Not to mention the flight later this evening. I nodded and gave him my hand. He directed me to the elevators.
Once we were inside the light wood paneled lift, he inserted a keycard into the wall and the elevator rumbled to life.
“Are you with maintenance?”
“No, this is the key to my apartment.”
I scrutinized him for a moment.
“You mean your floor, Henrik?”
“No, Morgana, I mean my apartment.”
NINETEEN
Payne’s Rule
Never let a mistake distract you from the greater goal.
Morgana’s mouth made that O that I love.
Then her purse fell, crashing to the ground as various items rolled out.
I watched as my butler bent down to grab the various items and put them back into her bag. He stood handing her the purse.
“Ah, thank you,” Morgana said as her cheeks flushed and my mind wondered to what else would make her blush.
“You are quite welcome, Miss,” he said with his crisp British dialect.
“Morgana, this is Winston, my butler.”
She began jumping up and down clapping her hands which gave me a perfect opportunity to watch her chest. As much as I wanted to take care of her I didn’t mind what the cold rain had done to her top. Her hardened nipples were the cherry on the Morgana cake.
“That is perfect. Winston, it is a pleasure, I’m sure,” she said in a weird Jamaican accent. I shook my head, confused as to why the accent, but quickly shook it off as
I had learned not to try to understand some of Morgana’s logic on things.
“Pleasure to meet you, Miss.” Winston smiled but quickly turned his attention to me.
“Winston, Morgana would like to take a shower, and we will need to get her a new pair of jeans,” I said.
“Very good, sir. There is hot chocolate in the living room and I started the fire for you and your guest.”
Winston turned and retreated down the hall. He was always on top of things. It would be a shame to ever lose him. Some of my neighbors in the building had asked if they could use his services from time to time, but I told them I don’t share.
“That was so cool. I have never met a British butler before. Oh, and we are going to London tomorrow, will Winston be coming with us?”
I moved toward my living room and waved for Morgana to follow.
“No, Winston will be staying here. I think I can manage a week without a butler.”
“But can I, Henrik? I think that is the point. Now that I know of his existence I must have him bring me tea and crumpets, and say ‘very good, miss,’ and all that stuff.”
I laughed and it felt good. It had been so long since I chuckled and it felt good. Come to think about it, Morgana was really the only person who made me smile.
She walked around my tan sofa and past my brown suede chair in wonder. Her mouth agape the entire time. But when she made it to the large window overlooking the choppy waters of Lake Michigan below I thought she was going to kiss the glass.
“Can I marry your apartment? I promise to let you have visiting rights, but I think I want to put a ring on it.”
I came up beside her and gazed out over the gray weather below.
“For what it’s worth, Morgana, I did look forward to our online chats. You always made me laugh, not many people can do that. As for marrying my place, I thought you said once you were marrying cake. Are you two-timing now?”
She turned to me with a serious expression and smeared her red lipstick on her cheek and my window. Morgana was adorable.
Rules of Payne (Cake Love Book 1) Page 10
