She looked over her shoulder and counted. Sure enough. Four sets of doors altogether. He slipped into the chair across from her.
“This looks great, Rory, thanks,” he said.
“I managed BLTs,” Rory said, “but you’re on your own if you need anything more substantial.”
Mac leaned forward and waggled his eyebrows at her. “Rory makes the best BLTs you’ve ever tasted.”
“I’ve tasted my share of good ones,” she said as Rory slipped croissant sandwiches and bottled spring water onto the teak patio table, “but none that looked as delicious as this.” He adjusted the overhead umbrella to give them coverage if the clouds broke.
“I’m heading out to meet Lindsay, then on to the rehearsal and then the dinner,” Rory said. “I’ll see you in the morning.” The twinkle in his eye blazed with humor. He gave her a wink before he turned briskly and left.
“You’re buddies,” she said as she picked up one half of the sandwich.
“Rory’s like a father to me. And Lindsay’s the younger sister I didn’t have.”
“I saw two heavy, black leather loungers in front of the flat-screen television in the den. I like that you two hang out.”
“I even tolerate his old war movies.”
“You don’t have to introduce me to Lindsay if it’ll be awkward for you. I’m not the type of woman you usually date. Just ask Jack,” she teased. In her mind there was no doubt that she’d stay the night. No question that they would make the most of their opportunity for more stupendous sex.
She couldn’t remember when or if she’d ever been this satisfied and this horny at the same time.
“I’ll be happy to introduce you.” The gleam of deep affection in his gaze convinced her of it. For the first time, she wondered if there could be more to this day. At least more time, if not a greater emotional connection. But he had the wedding tomorrow and all the distractions of his investigation. She didn’t want to pressure him.
While they ate, the talk turned small and comfortable. She learned that Rory was Navy, which explained his bearing.
“I like him,” she said. “He’s efficient but not stuffy. When I saw him in his tux I wondered what I’d stepped into.”
Mac polished off his sandwich. “He agreed to wear one for the wedding.” Amusement rang through his words. “And, for what it’s worth, he likes you, too. I can tell.”
Having Rory’s approval warmed her.
“You’ve impressed Jack, too, although I’m not certain that extends as far as liking you.”
“I can live with that.” Not that it mattered much. This might stretch into a week or two, but the lust would be slaked, the attraction would fall away and she’d be yesterday’s woman. “Jack’s kind of impressive himself, but I’ll reserve judgment on whether I like him or not.”
He raised his brow. “Careful, lady, you’re treading on shaky ground. Jack and I go way back. I know how many women he’s left behind.”
She gave him her best teasing smile, then moved to a safe topic. The evening had closed in and she let the peace of the gardens and the gentle undulation of the water in the pool ease through her. “It’s so lovely here, peaceful.”
“Your home is not a refuge?”
She huffed. “Don’t pretend Jack didn’t do a search on me. You know where I live.” Her building was comfortably affordable and she had the smallest unit there. Cheap rent meant she could donate money regularly to the youth center that meant so much to the neighborhood.
She wondered how far back they could and would check. “So will Jack do a complete background check on me?”
“Not unless I tell him to.” He seemed surprised at the question. For him and his millionaire buddies, background checks were probably an everyday occurrence.
“And when do you decide to do that?”
“When I’ve decided to see more of a woman.”
“Oh.” If she’d pegged Jack Carling correctly, he was deep into the search already, regardless if Mac had asked or not.
“And I want to see more of you, Morgan.”
The admission shouldn’t have stunned her as much as it did. Rather than cooling off with the down-to-earth concerns of the worrisome day, their attraction still blazed and their mutual interest was higher than ever. As much as it pained her to confess her past difficulties with the law, she wanted him to remember her as someone who told him the truth. Since the day the judge had given her a break, she’d done her utmost to live honestly. “There’s something you should know.”
Why was this so tough? She usually shared her past easily. The kids at the youth center knew, the other drivers knew. But with Mac, it would be a wrench if the light in his eyes went out when he looked at her. Still, she couldn’t go any further without being up-front. And to do that she had to go way back.
“Stepdad number four came with a couple of muscle cars. I was about eleven when he showed up. Anyway, I fell in love with cars and he taught me a lot, including how to drive years before I was legal.” She took a deep breath. “I, um, eventually stole a few.”
“Joyriding.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “A rite of passage. I took my dad’s Jag to California one weekend when I was fifteen.”
“Yes, but—”
“You got busted?”
“Yes, and my mom refused to get me out, refused to take me for counseling, so I had to do some time.” Her juvenile record was sealed but Jack seemed thorough enough to find a way to get at it.
“Wait a minute. You numbered your stepfathers? No wonder you acted out.”
“I’m on number seven now. They live in Miami. Been together about five years, so this one might actually stick.” She laughed. “Besides, I’d like to believe that even my mother can find the real thing and hang on to it.”
He chuckled along with her. “My parents divorced when I was in my teens. It was ugly. Neither of them have ever found the real thing.”
“Maybe they had it and lost it?”
He shrugged. “What’s worse? Never finding it or having it and letting it slip away?”
“The trick would be to find it, then to accept it as the real thing and hang on for dear life.”
“Beautiful and smart.”
Her chance to lead the conversation back to her days with Johnny DeLongo’s gang faded, overtaken by the philosophy of love and loss. To lighten the mood, she changed topics.
“I’ve never seen such an expansive backyard.”
He sipped from his water bottle. “The estate’s too big now that Lindsay’s moving out.” One side of his mouth curled up. “A single-level will be easier for Rory in a few years.”
More evidence of his innate kindness. Her heart warmed that he’d consider Rory’s needs as time took its toll. “That’s thoughtful.”
“No, just practical. I hope you can meet Lindsay, but tomorrow’s crazy. Maybe you’ll cross paths in the kitchen for morning coffee.”
“She’s important to you.”
His gaze softened. “I can’t imagine not having her in my life. She looked up to me and filled the house with girly-girl stuff.” His voice turned fond. “I’d find her stash of lipstick in my sock drawer when Rory said she was too young to wear it, and her room was plastered with posters of teenage heartthrobs.”
She laughed. “Typical stuff.” He’d opened his home and his heart to a young girl who’d been through a traumatic time. She did the math. When Lindsay moved in at eleven, Mac had been sixteen. Three years after his parents’ divorce he’d brought in a child who’d taken on the role of kid sister.
“It was good to see her come around,” he explained. “After the accident she needed months of physical therapy and counseling.” He lowered his voice. “She was caught in the wreckage while her parents were dying in the front seat. She kept talking so her mother would stay with her. But her mother died anyway and Lindsay didn’t speak again for a year.”
Morgan blinked back tears. He was such a good, deeply caring man, she was afraid she could
fall hard. She stood quickly, too aware, too edgy, too frightened of her own feelings to sit still. “I hope I can meet her.” She muttered the platitude, afraid this man could take hold of her heart.
“You remind me of her,” he said as he stood. “I saw it when you walked into the office and joined Jack and me. Most women would have stayed clear, but you decided I needed your help and you gave it, in spite of Jack’s glare.” He took her into his arms. “Lindsay’s like that. Brave and fiercely protective when she needs to be.”
“Oh.” She had no response to such a compliment. She’d barged in, been too impulsive, maybe even nosy! And here he was, calling her brave and fiercely protective.
It was too easy to flow into his embrace, like water into a quiet eddy. Held this way, she gave in to her need to caress and kiss, and mostly, to be held by this very real man with a heart that ran true and strong.
Whatever fantasies she’d harbored of Kingston McRae paled in the face of the real Mac.
She smoothed his broad chest, caught sight of her unvarnished, short fingernails and pulled her hand back. BB was much better at all the girly grooming. But inch-long nail tips weren’t Morgan’s style so she sucked it up and slipped her hand into his. His mouth went to her neck and he nibbled and kissed his way to her ear. She sighed and pressed her hips to his in invitation. “Let’s go to bed. I need you.”
“Music to my ears.” His cock rose hard and ready as he rubbed lightly against her. “I can’t keep my hands off you.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that.” More time with him was all she craved. “After we were interrupted, I thought I should leave.” She laughed. “I guess Jack calling BB and getting us more time backfired on him. He wants me out of your life.”
“Jack’s at the office with his team working on the photographs and Rory’s already gone.” He led her through the slider to the den. “We have the rest of the afternoon. Or at least until Jack needs me again.”
“Photographs?” She stalled and tugged him to a stop.
“Just pictures of me arriving at the airport on my jet.”
“So that was the first security breach? You don’t fly commercial.” She’d never seen any airport photos of him. “Someone knew when your jet would arrive and what hangar you use?”
“The fact that the package was delivered to the owner of a business I mentor is a message. They want me to know that I have no privacy—that they know everything I do, everywhere I go.”
“No wonder Jack’s so jumpy about me. It could be anyone, anywhere.”
He shook his head. “This is someone who’s peripherally connected to the household. Or used to be. I’m not worried about myself. Once Lindsay’s away from here, she’ll be safe. The wedding has to go off without a hitch.”
7
“LINDSAY HAS NO IDEA what’s going on?” Morgan asked Mac as they stood in the den.
“No, and we’re not telling her. She’s not to have one iota of concern on her wedding day.”
Morgan warmed again at his kindness. But that wasn’t top on her mind at the moment. It was sex. With him.
“Enough about that,” he said as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, pulling her softness against his hard body.
“We have all the time we need.” His hands cupped her head and he tilted her face to the right, then the left, but still, he didn’t kiss her. “You’re lovely. Your skin is perfection itself.”
Perfection. “That’s a nice thing to say.” Heat rose in her cheeks.
His nose trailed close to her cheek, down her neck to her shoulder. “Your scent. Your skin. Your shorts.”
“My shorts?” Ludicrous. She glanced up to see if he was joking.
“But only because they’re at the top of your incredible legs.” He kissed her cheek, slid his mouth to her neck.
Oh, yes!
She leaned into the warmth, needing more. She closed her eyes and shifted her weight closer. Her chest to his, her hands on his back. His fingers tightened on her arms in an urgency she felt to her toes.
Finally his mouth took hers in a light caress. Shivers ran the length of her as she responded to his delicate exploration.
She played his tongue with tentative strokes, her hands seeking. He could take her anywhere, any way he wanted. She moaned in submission.
He swept her into his arms and gathered her tight. The breath left her lungs, the strength left her limbs. Desire remained. A tide of desire that made her feel urgent, hungry and needful. She held his head and searched his lips with hers, imprinting the taste of him. When his tongue invaded her in insistent demand, she gave way. Let him have what he wanted. And what she needed.
He tasted of heat and want, of man and need, of sex and rapacious desire. His lips firmed and coaxed. She pressed up into him so her fingers could curl into his shirt and hold tight. Pulling him down to her, she took his mouth with her tongue and died with the wanting.
She rocked her hips against his and lost all trace of thought. His hands slid to her butt, cupped the fleshy mounds and lifted her hips deeper into his erection.
The groan low in his throat echoed her own, and he deepened the kiss.
He tangled her hair in his hands as he held her still to plunder her mouth. She tore at his zipper and tugged his slacks down. His mouth still on hers, he pulled her shorts off and shoved aside the thin strip of her thong. She groaned in pleasure when he plunged his finger into her.
“Mac.” She sounded breathless. “More.” He slid a second finger inside and turned them to tease the nerve endings. She rocked again and bit her lower lip as her softest flesh eased to accommodate his probing. Her knees gave way and he shifted her so she could brace herself on the arms of the leather lounger.
“Like this?” But he was already there, at her entrance. She heard a packet open, the slick sound of latex, and he spread her feet wider.
He penetrated slowly, her channel adjusting to his fullness. When his fingers found her clit, need rose and she lost herself to him.
Each press and retreat came faster, harder, while he worked her into a frenzy. With an urgent cry he crashed against her and his body’s powerful pulsation tipped her over the edge.
MORGAN ROLLED TO HER back, then propped herself up on one elbow to see if Mac had woken yet. His expression was calm, youthful, and she caught a glimpse of the boy he once was in the softened corners of his mouth and sweep of lashes beneath his closed eyes. His breath came deep and even as slumber still held him. Good.
She wasn’t sure if she could manage another round. The spirit was willing but her flesh sore, and her heart was definitely in danger. She’d had the most incredible night of her life, with the most interesting man she’d ever met. Ever wanted.
But all good things, especially things that could never last anyway, had to end. She sucked up her disappointment, counted her blessings and slipped from the bed.
She ignored the twinges that came from a night of stupendous sex and got dressed quickly in the master suite bathroom. On a stack of fresh towels, she found the toothbrush and toothpaste Mac had provided. She brushed and rinsed quickly, sorry the mint flavor washed away the taste of him.
She pulled on her shorts and snapped the tab closed, then slipped back out of the bathroom and ran on tiptoe with her boots in her arms past a sleeping Mac.
She felt like a thief.
Which was wrong, because if anyone had stolen anything it was Mac. She was leaving behind a piece of her heart. She just hoped it wasn’t a big piece, but if it was, she’d have to deal with the loss later.
Every word, chuckle and teasing moment between them had chipped away at her. Around midnight, they agreed the food they’d ordered in hadn’t held up to the rigorous activity, so they’d crept downstairs to raid the kitchen. They’d returned to bed with meaty sandwiches and a bottle of beer each. Imported, of course.
They’d talked, confessed, exaggerated and laughed about all of it. He’d shared the details of his frustration with the medical teams he’d bro
ught in for Lindsay. At only sixteen, he’d developed the dogged determination and team-building skills he relied on today.
She’d shared snippets of her life with a man-hunting mother. When he’d looked concerned, she’d assured him that she’d developed self-confidence and an independent streak, not to mention her in-your-face attitude.
But conversation had stalled and sex had taken over again and again. They’d been insatiable. One night was all she’d have of him, so she’d made the most of it.
She had to return to reality and her responsibilities. Talking about her past had reinforced the differences between Mac’s life and hers. She was no Cinderella to be rescued by a man, not now, not ever.
At the front door Morgan slipped into her socks and boots. She checked for the gate button and pressed it in case the mechanism by the gate was locked overnight.
The Morgan was still secure behind Bessie. She released the car and took off before she lost all sense and returned to Mac’s bed.
She turned right at the end of the drive and managed to control the urge to look back until she was at a stop sign at the first intersection.
There, she put her head down on Bessie’s steering wheel and drew in several deep breaths. She’d spent the night with Kingston McRae. Scratch that. He wasn’t Kingston any longer. He was Mac.
She had yet to assess the damages. The piece of her heart she’d left behind was his. She would learn to live without it.
The roar of a motorcycle brought her attention back to the road. She glanced into her side mirror.
A big black bike moved up beside her, the rider half-naked. His head was encased in a midnight-black helmet, visor down. But there was no mistaking the broad chest and hard muscular arms.
Mac!
Her heart jumped into her throat as the bike came up beside her. He motioned her to lower her window.
He raised his visor and glared at her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as he pulled off his helmet. His hair still looked mussed from sleep.
“You took off!”
“I told you I had to leave first thing.” She kept her voice huffy as if she didn’t have time to speak with him…or the need to. But she drank him in one last time.
Possessing Morgan Page 9
