Shenanigans (Pretense and Promises Book 2)

by Jade C. Jamison

  Morgan leaned over and whispered in Jacob’s ear, something she knew would endear him to her. “I think that lady over there wants us to lower our voices.”

  Jacob leaned to the right a little so he could see the woman in question, and he pointed with his head. “The woman with brown hair pulled back? The one in purple?” Morgan nodded. “Don’t worry about her. Her name’s Diane and she was even a fuddy-duddy back in the day. Probably a librarian today, shushing people all day long. If she doesn’t like it, she can move closer to ol’ Kendra.”

  Morgan thought the woman might have been able to hear that remark, so she said, her voice low, “Why don’t we go sit back there?”

  “The table way over there with nobody else?”

  “Yeah—unless you don’t want to.”

  “Works for me. What can I carry for you?”

  Maybe Morgan could enjoy this for the duration, even if she didn’t really need his help. “I think I’ve got it.” When they got near the table, though, Jacob pulled a chair out for her. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” Had Conor even pulled out a chair for her over this weekend? Probably not.

  As Kendra continued talking about classmates’ accomplishments during their senior year, Morgan said, “Shit. How big was your class anyway?”

  Jacob shrugged. “I dunno. Kendra could probably tell you how many kids graduated and how many dropped out, but I couldn’t even guess. Seemed like a lot at graduation, like it was never gonna end.”

  “That’s because graduations are boring.”

  “You got that right.” Jacob finished off his Red Bull before he asked, “So how long you and my man Conor been dating?”

  Oh, now Conor was his man? Like they’d been best friends in high school who’d never lost touch? And Morgan knew that telling lies could get her in huge trouble, because she wouldn’t remember what she’d said if asked again…but her answer would work. “Oh, a while.” Her reciprocal question was downright silly—yet she said it with a straight face. “What about you and Raquel?”

  He laughed. “Believe it or not, I have not tapped that.” Ugh. She should’ve known a guy like that would use that damned expression. “We were prom king and queen, and two nights before the dance, she’d broken up with her boyfriend and made out with me at a party, but she was back with him by the time they crowned us. I guarantee if she hadn’t been dating the quarterback from two years earlier, she would have been my girl.”

  Aw, poor guy. “So why don’t you ask her out now?”

  Jacob shook his head, peering into his mug. “Nope. No way. I enjoyed catching up with her, but she’s a train wreck, Morgan. And no way could I afford the things she likes. I think that’s why she’s latched onto your boy. It’s been no secret since our last reunion that he’s got lots of money.” He glanced at the front of the room, where Raquel was rapt in the slideshow…but that didn’t stop her hand from possessively holding Conor’s arm. In a way, Morgan was glad they’d been so successful at their secondary mission, and she wondered if she was jealous merely because he was now someone she couldn’t have.

  Fucking stupid.

  “Doesn’t that piss you off?”

  Morgan’s fork paused in mid air. “What?”

  Jacob chin-nodded toward Conor’s table. “The way Raquel’s sunk her claws in him.”

  How would she act if she were truly engaged to her boss? Honestly…she’d be over there, telling Raquel to hit the road—and she’d probably call her a couple of crass names while she was at it. But she was doing exactly what her boss had paid her to do, meaning she couldn’t complain out loud. So she raised an eyebrow. “Who’s leaving with him tonight?”

  His nod seemed wistful, as if understanding that meant he had no chance with Morgan. But he wasn’t about to give up. “Someone might want to tell that to her.”

  The nervy woman had her lips to Conor’s ear—and Morgan had to bury the jealous bile frothing in her gut. She smiled sweetly as if nothing was wrong, but inside a volcano brewed, ready to erupt.

  Chapter Fourteen

  CONOR WAS TORN. He had never, in all his thirty-something years, been presented with a dilemma like this. Yes, as he’d grown older and he’d had many a lady friend, but he’d never had two women vying over him.

  Of course, he had to remind himself, it was all a ruse. Morgan wasn’t really fighting for him, even though they’d consummated their fake engagement in style last night. Why the hell couldn’t he get Morgan’s smooth flesh and responsive moans out of his head?

  Last night was nothing.

  So, instead of relishing the feeling of being fought over, he needed to focus on what was real—and that reality was equally amazing. Raquel Bettis—the most sought-after girl in high school—was giving him all her attention. It was true that he hadn’t wanted this kind of attention before he’d come, but he hadn’t expected the queen of all the former high school beauties to be fawning all over him. She was worthy of rule breaking.

  They’d finally stopped whispering to pay attention to Kendra’s sweet but boring slide show, and Raquel had rested her hand on his forearm minutes ago. Now she was stroking it slowly but paying attention to the pictures in front of them, and Conor allowed himself to wax nostalgic. He could remember as a young nerd attending some of the football games and watching Raquel, her hair pulled up in a tight ponytail, while she performed those amazing kicks that nearly hit her head—splits in the air—before bouncing and clapping, and then the cheerleaders would begin another routine. She’d never looked at him once when he’d sat in that crowd, but he’d leered at her, stalker-like, averting his gaze to the game whenever the crowd went wild.

  She hadn’t changed much. As he looked at the screen while Kendra continued showing pictures of big events that had occurred during their senior year, Conor tried to conjure up how Raquel looked right now without turning to stare…but his brain kept flashing pictures of Morgan: Morgan in the elegant black lace dress he’d helped her remove last night—and, naturally, then his brain saw her beautiful breasts, smooth tummy, and—

  “Do you remember that? Oh, my God, that was so much fun!”

  Conor glanced to his right, looking in Raquel’s blue eyes, trying to register what he’d missed with his daydreaming. He tentatively nodded and gave a smile before looking back at the slideshow, which displayed pictures of a bonfire. None of the bodies surrounding the fire were recognizable because huge flames dominated the pictures.

  “Why don’t you ever come to homecoming, Conor?”

  “I’m too busy working. Why? Do you attend every fall?”

  “No…not every year…but I do like to go when I can.”

  Conor didn’t say anything, but he imagined Raquel got a vicarious thrill from attending homecoming, reliving her old glory days. Conor hadn’t hated high school, but he hadn’t been one of the top dogs. It wasn’t till he’d left that life had really begun. If he and Raquel hooked up, he’d have to show her just how good life could be in the here and now instead of living in the past.

  Her eyes were once again glued to the front of the room, eager to take in the next photo Kendra displayed, while most of her audience fell into a stupor, bored by the never-ending virtual yearbook. As she showed photos from a fall choir concert, Conor struggled to find some common ground between him and this woman he’d long thought of as ideal. Ordering his brain to focus on her and not on last night’s dalliance with Morgan, though, was easier said than done.

  Last night was a mistake, though. Morgan was his assistant, and it would be near impossible to maintain a professional relationship if he was busy banging her—or thinking about it constantly. In fact, he doubted he’d be as productive if he had a girlfriend nearby. He’d crossed a line last night, and he needed to figure out how to correct the wayward path he’d led them on.

  His dick had a difficult time thinking that way, though.

  Photos of the football team winning the state championship flashed in front of them, and Conor wondered wh
ere the hell Morgan was anyway. She’d told him she would come to breakfast soon, but she hadn’t yet shown up. It didn’t take much effort to pry his eyes away from the Christmas concert to turn so he could look through the crowd. The lights in the room were on but dim, and he saw the signs of too much drinking on many a classmate’s face. Tired, droopy, bloodshot eyes and sagging, lined expressions gave their indiscretions away. Morgan should have stood out like a sore thumb—youthful, vibrant, a devilish grin like always—but he wasn’t seeing her. His eyes wandered to the buffet where a couple of folks were scraping up seconds, and it wasn’t until he looked to the left, close to the very back of the room, that he saw Morgan at a nearly empty table.

  Empty except for Jacob Martin, star quarterback—the guy who’d been credited all these years for taking state. And the two were deep in conversation, oblivious to everyone around them, as if no one else existed.

  If sleeping with her had been a mistake, why the hell was a furious beast rumbling in his chest?

  * * *

  After watching Raquel paw Conor’s arm like he was a scratching post, Morgan reminded herself something she’d learned years ago: the best way to get over a guy was by having sex with someone else.

  Yes, sex. Not just dating but knee-knocking, animalistic, filthy, dirty, wicked sex.

  She’d analyzed it, because she wasn’t a one-night stand kind of gal. In fact, for years, she’d had a friend with benefits (until he’d gone and gotten in a super-serious relationship; now he was married with baby number one on the way). He’d been her go-to guy to take her mind off a bad relationship and she always did the same for him, but when he was no longer available, she did what she had to do. Now…the forget-another-guy sex didn’t even have to be amazing, but it gave her warped mind something else to think about, her emotions something else to fixate on.

  Jacob had zeroed in on her, shown interest, so why the hell not? Yeah, his hairstyle hadn’t evolved with the times, but his blue eyes hadn’t aged a day and he had a hell of a captivating smile and smooth-as-mocha voice. Finishing her coffee, she scooted her chair closer and Jacob didn’t object. Morgan had no plans to copy Raquel, but the woman had the right idea. A touch, subtle or otherwise, would communicate interest. So she placed her hand on his wrist and asked, “Did you play college football?”

  Jacob’s eyes lit up but he frowned. “One year. I couldn’t keep my grades up, though. Plus I wasn’t going to a school that seemed to get the attention of the NFL, so I figured that was just a pipe dream. Played some community football a few years, but it’s not the same, you know? Having someone pull a flag off me isn’t the same as absorbing their tackle.”

  Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you like it rough, do you?”

  Cocking his head, his blue eyes seemed like oceans in a desert, and she saw in them recognition. “You saying you’d like to play touch football with me sometime?”

  Grinning, she nodded. “I think that would be fun.” She got ready to add that she was considering doing it right that moment when she was interrupted.

  “Ah, I wondered where you were, honey.” Morgan pulled herself from Jacob’s eyes, but she recognized Conor’s voice long before she looked at him. His foreign expression left her feeling bewildered. What was going on with him? Last she’d looked over, he was enjoying basking in goddess Raquel’s presence.

  Instinctively, Morgan pulled her hand off Jacob’s wrist as if the man was a hot stove burner—as if she were truly engaged to her boss. And if they were already lying, what would one more hurt? “I couldn’t find you when I got here, and Jacob offered to keep me company while I ate.”

  “It didn’t look like you were eating.”

  Jacob said, “Nothing happened, man.”

  “You stay out of this, quarterback!”

  Now a few tables around them turned to see the show, considering the boring one at the front, now highlighting the dance on Valentine’s Day, was failing to keep their attention.

  Conor continued, “This is between me and my fiancée.”

  Morgan wasn’t the type to get embarrassed, especially among strangers she didn’t know and would never see again, but poor Jacob looked like he was about to die. Taking two steps, she grabbed Conor’s arm. “Let’s talk about this in the hall.”

  “No. We’re going to deal with this here.”

  “I’m not, and you can’t fuckin’ make me.” Furious, she marched out of the huge dining room and into the spacious but quiet hall. She hoped they hadn’t made too big a commotion so that Kendra could make it to graduation without losing her entire audience. Standing in the carpeted corridor with her hands on her hips, ready to verbally spar, she expected Conor to march through the door. Technically, he could try to demand that she do what he’d asked as her boss, but he’d crossed the unprofessional line a while ago. He couldn’t play the employer card right now.

  But through the door came Jacob. Sweet, earnest, and sincere, he asked, “Does Conor beat you?”

  It took a few moments for Morgan to register what Jacob was saying—and then she burst into laughter. “Oh, Jacob, that’s so sweet. But no. Conor’s not abusive.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” And, as if on cue, Conor marched through the doors, his nostrils flaring like a bull. “He can be an asshole at times,” she said, looking straight at her boss, “but he’s never laid a finger on me.”

  Conor seemed a bit calmer, but Morgan couldn’t tell where his irises ended and his brown eyes began. “Excuse me, Jacob, but could I have a few moments alone with my fiancée?”

  Jacob clenched his jaw before he told Morgan, “I can stay here if you want.”

  “Thanks, Jacob…but I think I can take care of myself.”

  Reluctantly, he took two steps back. “I’ll be right behind those doors if you need me.”

  Morgan nodded. “Thank you.” She could feel the anger rippling off Conor in waves, adding fuel to her own fury. As soon as the doors closed behind Jacob, she hissed, “What’s your fucking damage, Conor?”

  “I might ask the same thing, Morgan. What are you thinking? If you’re supposed to be my fiancée, you shouldn’t be flirting with one of the guys here.”

  “And just what exactly were you doing with Raquel?”

  “Here’s the deal. She wasn’t doing anything so inappropriate—or out of character—that my former classmates would question it. What you were doing looked pretty out of line.”

  Wow. “Really? You’re completely out of line, Conor. You made a big fucking deal back there. What would have looked innocent now appears highly suspect. And that’s on you,” she said, poking his chest with her finger. “It’s unprofessional.”

  “Unprofessional?” Conor scoffed, a look of surprise on his face. “No, last night was unprofessional.”

  What the fuck was he saying? Morgan couldn’t stand it anymore. Was he accusing her of seducing him? And just what had gotten into him anyway? Unable to stop herself, she slapped his face. “Finish this fucking façade on your own. I’m outta here.”

  * * *

  Conor watched Morgan stomp down the hall. Shaking his head, he couldn’t help but notice how those jeans hugged her ass, the breezy sleeveless pink shirt merely highlighting her shape. He could still feel the sting of her hand on his cheek, and he supposed he deserved it. Had he gone too far?

  And why the hell was he jealous? Of Jacob Martin, no less? The guy, though nice enough, would just as soon be back in his high school quarterback uniform, calling plays both on and off the field. Now that he was no longer leader of the pack, he seemed rudderless. And that had been twenty years ago. Poor guy. Conor didn’t doubt Jacob would do well with a good woman in his life, but Morgan needed someone more her style, more her speed.

  Conor might not have been that man, either, but he was a damn sight closer than Jacob. And he cared about her—on the inside as well as the outside, probably more for her mind and soul than her body.

  And even if she didn’t want a relations
hip with him—which was probably the case—he needed to apologize for going too far. Even if he had just been worried about what he saw, Morgan was a grown woman, capable of making her own decisions—even if she was technically on the clock.

  Don’t be stupid. Of course, she doesn’t want any man here, even you. You’re all at least eight years older…

  So instead of standing there acting helpless, Conor knew he needed to take action. Morgan likely went to their room, so that was where he was going to go.

  But he heard the doors behind him open again, and he half expected the presentation to be over, sending people flooding into the halls, grateful to be relieved of the boredom. When he turned, though, he found the hall empty except for tall, lithe Raquel, blonde hair flowing, azure eyes shining, taut body making a beeline for him.

  Maybe the best way past the ridiculous emotions he was overwhelmed with would be to give into this little thing—a trophy girl from eons ago, one who’d been unobtainable back in the day…and now she actually wanted him. She wasn’t gunning for Jacob Martin, star quarterback, or any of the other athletes who’d swarmed their school back in the day.

  The way she sashayed down the hall toward him confirmed it: she wanted him. Just that knowledge empowered him, made him realize he could slay dragons or face a posse for her. If this woman needed rescuing, he would do it.

  “Are you all right, Conor?” she asked, closing the gap and once more touching his arm.

  Yeah, this felt right.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Why don’t we get out of here?”

  A grin turned up the corner of his lips. “What do you have in mind?”

  She flashed a seductive smile at him before sliding her arm through his to lead him down the hall, arms linked as if taking a romantic but chaste stroll. “Just follow me.”

  Raquel paused at the elevator and pressed the up button. Just then, a few people started to trickle out of the dining room, finally relieved by Kendra. The elevator doors opened and Raquel pulled on Conor’s arm before she pressed the button for the fourth floor. Conor knew there would be a crowd joining them, so he took his arm out of Raquel’s. It didn’t matter what they might be doing—he didn’t want to give the impression that he was going to cheat on his supposed fiancée. And he shouldn’t feel guilty. They weren’t actually engaged, and it didn’t matter that Raquel didn’t know.