by Rebecca York
“Of course not. You don’t do things because you make calculations.”
“How do you know?”
“I know you better than you think.”
“I’m transparent?”
“You’re honorable. A man with integrity. Smart. And nice. That’s important, too.”
“That’s how you see me?”
“How do you see yourself?”
He hesitated for a moment, then said, “Damaged.”
“No. You have a lot going for you. And I’ll bet you worked like a demon getting yourself back into shape. You don’t even walk with a limp.”
She held his hand more tightly, wondering how much she dared say to him. “Do you believe in reincarnation?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“I can’t stop thinking that we’ve known each other intimately…in another life. Do you sense it?”
“I think so,” he answered, and she let out the breath she’d been holding. “It seemed like fate that we met. I mean, I might not have gone to that trophy house with Ted. I didn’t want to see the damn thing, but I had the feeling there was a reason I should go. And there you were.”
She raised up, sitting beside him, tracing the line of the jagged scar that snaked down his leg.
He winced.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No.”
She looked down at his body. “You don’t have to hide from me.”
“It’s hard to…realize that.”
She swallowed. “We’re good for each other, but your parents aren’t going to think so.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“They have high standards for the Morgan family.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s an educated guess.” She swallowed hard before saying, “I’ll bet your father started having me investigated as soon as you introduced us.”
His expression darkened. “Oh, come on.”
“Do you want to make a bet?” she heard herself say. “He’s going to dig up something about my family that doesn’t sound real good.”
“What?”
She hadn’t wanted to tell him like this, but now she felt compelled to say, “That my father was in jail.”
“Was he?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
Her mouth was so dry she could hardly speak, but she managed to say, “Grand larceny.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Jack, I’m sorry. I guess you didn’t want to hear that. I mean that your father’s going to tell you about it.”
“I don’t like the conviction in your voice.”
She winced. Making love with him had been wonderful. Now they’d gotten off on the wrong foot. Or the wrong tone. Which was her fault.
She’d been going to talk about her family background, tell him what his father was going to find out. And somehow it had seemed like an attack on the Morgans.
“I should go,” he said.
“Jack…”
She pressed her lips together, silently damning herself for saying anything about his family. She’d named some of his attributes. She should have remembered “loyalty.”
She watched him get up and pull on his clothes.
Moments ago she’d been so happy to have him in her bed. Now he was leaving because she’d made a stupid mistake.
It couldn’t be over, could it?
Icy fear clutched at her as he walked out of her apartment and through the warehouse.
Chapter Eleven
On shaky legs Sara got up and pulled on the T-shirt and yoga pants that she’d hung in the armoire before she’d gotten dressed for the party.
She tried to hold in the tears burning the backs of her eyes, but she lost the battle as she made her way across the warehouse and looked out the door. The spot where Jack’s car had sat was empty.
Of course. What did she think, that he’d changed his mind and was only sitting out there preparing to come back in?
Her hand trembled as she locked the door, then leaned back against it, struggling to stop her tears and catch her breath.
“What a mess,” she whispered, as she swiped a hand across her face.
Nothing like this had happened last time. Which meant that the story she was telling herself was completely off the rails.
Maybe she was crazy, and she’d had a dream about meeting Jack Morgan. About being pregnant with his baby. Trying to drive herself to the hospital.
No. She shook her head. She couldn’t explain it away. She knew too much—considering she hadn’t even known Jack Morgan until she’d met him at that house Pam was trying to sell to Ted.
She went back over the past twenty minutes, trying to see where she had gone wrong.
It wasn’t difficult to realize that if she’d just kept her mouth shut about the Morgans, Jack would still be lying on her bed, warm and comfortable. But she’d taken a fateful step down the wrong path, then another and another because she’d wanted to beat Bill Morgan to the punch with the damaging information about her father.
And now Jack was gone.
Was he coming back? She had no way of knowing. Maybe she’d ruined everything.
She clenched her fists as all sorts of scenarios went through her mind. What if he was safe now? What if the only reason somebody was going to kill him was that he was with her?
If she was out of the picture, he’d be all right. If that were true, she’d give him up, she thought with a terrible pang. Only she couldn’t make herself believe that.
But then what?
She dug her nails into her palms. He’d walked out the door, and what could she do about it?
She couldn’t call him up and beg him to come back. That would certainly turn him off. Pursuing him would only confirm his family’s conviction that she was out for the Morgan money.
A laugh bubbled in her throat.
Nothing was the same, except that she’d met Jack and knew she loved him. Once again everything was turning into a horrible mess. Maybe this time it only applied to her—not to Jack.
She tottered back to her apartment and lay down on the bed, reaching for the pillow that Jack had used. And as she hugged it to herself and breathed in his scent, the tears returned.
Their relationship had been so new. But not for her. She’d presumed too much, because she knew too much.
Maybe she’d get a chance to rectify that, and maybe she wouldn’t.
* * *
JACK LEFT THE WAREHOUSE with a hollow feeling in his chest. Since he’d first met Sara, he’d sensed something between them he couldn’t put into words. She’d made him feel more alive than he had felt any time since coming home from Afghanistan. That had been enough to let him trust her.
Or maybe it was easier to explain. Maybe his physical needs had finally overwhelmed him, and he’d given in to the desire to make love with her.
And it had been magic. More than he ever could have imagined. Then she’d started talking about his family like she knew them better than he did, and he’d felt a sudden chill.
He hadn’t known what to say, exactly. So here he was in his car, driving away and wondering if he was ever going to see her again.
He’d asked her to decorate the new offices. But they hadn’t signed any kind of contract. Really, they’d just talked about it. The only fleshed-out idea they’d discussed was the lunchroom. Did he have to go ahead with that?
He made a snorting sound. It would be pretty shabby of him if he changed his mind without a good reason.
Was her opinion of his family a good enough reason to cancel the offer?
Maybe. But it wouldn’t make him feel very good.
* * *
JACK’S NEMESIS HAD REASON to be angry. The trick with the well cover had taken some effort and netted nothing. Jack was still walking around, instead of lying in a broken heap at the bottom of the well.
That little home decorator, Sara Carter, had been with him. And they’d come back to the party looking
disheveled. Had he fallen in the well and she’d gotten him out? Or maybe it was the other way around.
Too bad there was no way of knowing what had happened out there.
But maybe there was better news on another front. Jack had been really thick with the Carter woman. But he’d left her place pretty quickly after driving her home from the party.
Maybe that little affair was over and the woman was no longer a factor. Jack would have to rely on his own resources to save his life. And if he had no idea what was going on, he wouldn’t be prepared for trouble.
Nemesis grimaced.
Too bad for Jack that he’d gotten injured in Afghanistan and gotten shipped home. If he hadn’t been in the wrong place at the wrong time, he might have stayed in the army where his talents were appreciated.
Because he certainly had no talent for business.
He didn’t belong here, and he would have to be eliminated, one way or the other.
* * *
WORK HAD ALWAYS BEEN a refuge for Sara. The next morning she was going through her filing cabinet looking for the sketches she’d made for a house she was scheduled to stage.
As she riffled through the folders, the tab of one caught her eye and she went stone still. It said “Morgan Office Project.”
She hadn’t done any work on the project, not since she’d made the mistake of talking to Jack about his family. But here was a folder she’d set up.
With a trembling hand, she pulled it out and opened it. As soon as she saw the sketches, her breath caught.
These were the pictures she’d come right home and drawn after the first time Jack had taken her to the office. Before his father had said that it was too big an undertaking for an amateur like her.
It was spooky to thumb through the sketches now and remember how excited she’d been about working with Jack on the Morgan building.
For the lobby, she’d used a Maryland theme. With a huge statue of a crab, fishnets, a lighthouse, seascapes and mallard ducks from the Eastern Shore.
Jack had loved them. His father had hated them and suggested she try something else.
Her eyes misted at her long-ago enthusiasm. And the way her hopes had been dashed. In so many ways.
When a tear splattered onto one of the sheets, she wiped it away and shoved the pictures back into the folder.
For a moment she thought about taking them to the sink and burning them. But she stopped herself and put them back where she’d found them.
* * *
JACK SPENT THE NEXT TWO DAYS trying to convince himself that he’d done the right thing by walking away from Sara’s accusations. That theory started to fall apart when he’d gotten a call from his father.
“I’m glad I caught you,” Dad had said in that fake hearty voice that Jack remembered from his childhood. It hadn’t fooled him then, and it didn’t fool him now. “Can you come over?”
“Why?”
“We want to talk to you about something.”
“Can we do it over the phone?”
“We’d prefer that you come over,” his father had said, his tone becoming firmer.
“Sure,” Jack had answered, hating himself for caving in, yet interested to find out what his parents wanted.
Now here he was stepping into the front hall of the Morgan mansion. Once this place had been his home. It didn’t feel like it anymore.
His father came striding down the hall from the back of the house. “Thanks for coming over.”
“You wanted to talk to me about something?”
“Let’s sit down.”
Dad turned and disappeared down the hall again. When they arrived in the sunroom, he expected to see his mother waiting. But the room was empty.
She appeared moments later, with Ted’s fiancée, Janet, at her side.
Jack stared at her in surprise, and she looked like he was the last person she wanted to meet up with. “Are you part of the discussion?” he asked.
“What?”
“Did you come here to talk with me, Mom and Dad?”
She shook her head. “No. I didn’t expect to see you this morning. I came here to talk to your mother about the wedding plans.”
Jack stared at her, wondering if she was telling the truth. What were the odds that they’d both been summoned this morning?
Janet turned and hugged his mom. “I’ll look over those menus, and we’ll talk soon.”
“Thank you, dear,” Carolyn answered, and Jack wondered if they’d really been talking about him, but nobody was going to admit it.
He brought himself up short, attempting to cancel the paranoid thoughts. The world didn’t revolve around him, after all.
Or maybe this morning it did.
He settled into one of the wicker chairs, waiting to find out what his parents wanted to discuss.
“You’re looking well,” his mother said. “How is your leg doing?”
“All right. Did you ask me over to question me about my health?”
“No,” his father answered.
When he and Carolyn Morgan exchanged glances, Jack tensed.
“It’s about that woman you’ve been seeing. Sara Carter.”
Struggling to keep his voice even, he asked, “What about her?”
“She’s not exactly qualified to decorate the new Morgan Enterprises offices. That’s not her job. She only sets up rooms in model homes.”
“If you saw the work she’s done, you might change your mind.”
“You shouldn’t have hired her without consulting your father or your brother,” Carolyn said.
Jack looked at his father. “You wanted me to take more interest in the firm.”
“Yes, but you’ve been away a long time,” his father said. “You can’t just come back and make big decisions.”
“Hiring a decorator is a big decision?”
“The offices make an impression on business associates.”
Sara had told him that would be his father’s attitude.
“So you’re asking me to fire her?” he asked in a tight voice.
“There’s something else you need to know.”
Jack clasped his hand over the arm of the chair, waiting, afraid he knew what he was going to hear.
“Her background is questionable,” his mother said.
“In what way?”
“Her father died in prison.”
Jack sucked in a breath and let it out. “Are you saying you had her investigated?”
His father shifted in his seat. “We did a background check on her.”
“Did you do that when Ted started dating Janet?”
“Of course not.” His mother’s voice had taken on an outraged tone.
“Why not?”
“Do we have to get into that?”
“You’re the one who started the conversation.”
Carolyn sighed. “Because we’ve known Janet since she was a little girl. We know her family. They go to our church. There wasn’t any question that she’s suitable for Ted.”
“Did you share that insight with him?”
“Jack, stop questioning us about our motives. We only want the best for both of our sons.”
“Sure.”
“There’s no need to get sarcastic,” his father snapped.
His mother was more conciliatory. “I know the information about Sara must be a shock,” his mother said.
“As a matter of fact, it’s not.”
Both parents gave him a questioning look.
“She told me.”
That got wide-eyed, jaw-dropping reactions from both of them.
“Why would she do that?” his father finally asked.
“Probably because she thought you’d investigate her background,” Jack said in a clipped voice. “And she wanted to tell me first. Is that the worst thing you could find about her?”
“Her mother was a shopkeeper.”
“I guess she had to support her daughter after her husband went to jail. That’s a strike against her?�
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“She’s just not of our social class,” his mother blurted.
“You think that makes a difference to me?”
“It should,” she answered. “And what were the two of you doing at the party, rolling around on the lawn?”
“We weren’t rolling around on the lawn.”
“Then what were you doing?”
Jack stood up. “I think this discussion is over.”
His father also stood. “Son, we’re only trying to keep you informed. You’re interested in this woman, right? Are you sure she’s totally honest?”
“Yes, I’m interested in her. And yes, I think she’s totally honest,” he bit out before turning and walking toward the door.
“Jack, come back here,” his mother called.
He kept walking.
He’d always had a certain image of his parents. They were a little bit stiff. Proud of their position in the community. Sure that they were right. But he hadn’t thought of them as underhanded.
Well, he guessed that from their point of view, they were trying to make sure their son didn’t date an unsuitable woman.
But Sara had anticipated their reaction to her. He’d been outraged when she’d said they were going to dig into her life. Now he needed to apologize to her, if she was willing to speak to him again.
He could have called her. But he wanted to see her. After leaving the mansion, he drove to the warehouse. At the top of the steps, he pressed the buzzer and stood with his heart pounding. When there was no answer, his heart began to pound even harder. Had something happened to her? Or was Sara refusing to see him?
He wouldn’t blame her for that.
He called her name.
Still no answer.
It was then he noticed a plastic envelope hanging on a hook next to the door. Inside was a notice that Sara was out staging a house. The sheet gave an address off Old Montgomery Road.
Jack copied down the information, then climbed back into his car and drove to the house, which turned out to be a standard developer model that was now on the resale market.
As he rounded a bend in the street, he saw her truck in the driveway and also her car. A sigh of relief trickled out of him.
She was here. He could apologize.
After pulling up at the curb, he got out and took a deep breath before starting up the walk.
The front door and storm door were propped open, probably so Sara could carry things in and out.
