A MAN LIKE MORGAN KANE

by Beverly Barton

  The moment he felt her tightening around him, her feminine mound pressing harder and harder against him with each upward thrust of her body, Morgan gripped her hips and jackhammered into her repeatedly. She cried out as fulfillment claimed her, the force of her release like a magnificent explosion that went on and on and on.

  With one final lunge, Morgan emptied himself into her. Spirals of pleasure spread through his body, a thousand electrical currents of erotic sensation. A deep, hard groan surged from his throat in a long, tormented rumble.

  Falling to her side, he eased her up toward the row of pillows at the head of the bed, then reached down and brought the multicolored blanket up to cover them. Bethany lay in his arms, the aftershocks still rippling through her body. When he caressed her arm, she shivered, her skin ultrasensitive.

  Neither of them spoke. No words of love were exchanged. No promises for the future. No mention of tomorrow. They belonged to each other. Body and soul. But only for tonight. For the few precious hours between now and dawn.

  As if afraid tomorrow would never come or perhaps afraid that it would come too soon, Morgan and Bethany slept briefly only to awaken again and again to seek each other in the darkness and claim the ecstasy they could find in no one else's arms.

  The first time Morgan woke, moonlight streamed through the thin beige curtains. Wavy shadows danced across the bed. Bracing himself on one elbow, he turned and gazed down at Bethany, who slept peacefully at his side. He had buried his feelings for her so deep inside that he'd been able to pretend she meant nothing to him. But the moment he saw her again, all pretense vanished in the wake of the gut-wrenching emotions she brought to the surface.

  He could not stop his hand as it reached out and touched her, his fingertips gliding over her face, down her throat and across her delicate shoulder. She roused, her eyelids fluttering as she opened her eyes and looked up at him. She smiled, and a hard knot of desire formed in his belly. She draped her arm around his neck and drew him to her, inviting him to take what he wanted.

  "Beth, I don't ever want to hurt you again." He eased the covers off her naked body and caressed her satiny flesh. "I'm so very sorry that I left you, that I—"

  She cut off his words with a kiss that ended all rational thought. Curling herself around him, she urged him to action. He took her quickly, losing himself inside her welcoming warmth.

  Hours later, just as the dawn light spread a mingled pink haze across the horizon, Bethany woke to find Morgan's big, heavy arm draped across her. Easing out of his hold, she sat up in the bed, resting her back against the headboard. He mumbled incoherently in his sleep and turned over onto his back. The topaz sheet and multicolored blanket slipped below his waist, revealing his broad chest and narrow hips. Bethany sucked in her breath at the sight of him. Big. Hairy. Muscular. Powerfully male.

  The first faint light of day illuminated the room with a soft, pale glow. She looked at him, drinking her fill. How many long, lonely nights had she dreamed of a moment like this? She had spent her lifetime loving Morgan Kane. She had tried to deny her true feelings, to pretend that she hated him, that she never wanted to see him again. But now she knew the truth and the truth broke her heart anew. Morgan had come back to Birmingham for her sixteen years ago. He had come back the day she married Amery.

  If only she'd been older, wiser, stronger, she would have fought her mother and Morgan's parents. She would have gone against their wishes and refused to marry a man she didn't love. How different things might have been if only she had waited. She could have saved herself from a loveless marriage. She could have prevented Amery's tragic death. And she could have given Anne Marie her real father long ago. It was a wonder Morgan didn't hate her. But he didn't.

  He might not love her, but he still cared. And he still wanted her.

  Bethany flung the covers to the foot of the bed. Morgan stirred, but didn't open his eyes. She leaned over him, breathing in the smell of him, that strong, unique scent that was Morgan's alone. She ran the tip of her index finger across one tiny male nipple. Morgan groaned. She repeated the process. He groaned again. When she replaced her finger with her tongue, Morgan threaded his fingers through her long, dark hair, gripped the back of her head with one hand and grabbed her hip with the other.

  Dragging her over on top of him, he surged up and into her, taking her by surprise. She gasped as he filled her fully.

  "Morgan." Her breath caught in her throat. "We—we need to talk. I have to explain—"

  "Later." Clutching her hips, he lifted her up and then settled her back down onto him. "Much later."

  And the ride of her life began, slow, sensuous and steady at first. And then as a thick heaviness descended upon her, she fought it, tried to conquer it, by riding him harder and faster. With each stroke of his sex deepening and expanding, taking her completely, the tension inside her tightened.

  She had lived without this wild ecstasy for far too long, without this magnificent man she loved to the point of madness. She didn't know if she'd ever get enough, not even if they found a way to make their passion last forever.

  * * *

  Late that evening, they stood in the middle of her living room in Forest Park and assessed the day's accomplishments.

  Exhaustion weighed heavily on her shoulders, draining her of the last ounces of strength she possessed. The day had been long and tiring and she'd tried to do far too much. Morgan massaged her shoulders. She relaxed against him.

  "It'll take weeks to get this place back to normal," she said, surveying the partially restored order of the room. "So many small things will have to be replaced and the sofa needs reupholstering and—"

  "It's been less than twenty-four hours and we've accomplished a lot. We'll get it all done," Morgan said. "One day at a time. As soon as we get things straightened out enough to suit you, we can move back in."

  "I should give Mother another call and let her know we've already eaten." Bethany nodded to the empty pizza carton on the coffee table. "I should have gotten over there in time to have had dinner with Anne Marie."

  "She understands how busy you've been today." Morgan guided Bethany to the overstuffed plaid chair, sat down and pulled her onto his lap. "I believe it's a bad idea to follow through with your plans for a fashion show at the Galleria Sunday afternoon. Think about what happened to Lisa. She's lucky to be alive and recovering so well."

  "I thank God that she didn't die and that she'll be out of the hospital soon."

  "I don't want to take any chances of something like that happening again," Morgan said. "You're going to be front-page news for weeks, and every nut case around is going to be hounding you, especially since Eileen posted that reward."

  "My mother never ceases to amaze me. I can't believe she actually gave a personal interview to Chris Hammond of the Birmingham News and another to that Grayson guy from the Post Herald." Bethany turned, slipped her arms around Morgan's neck and laid her head on his shoulder.

  "I've warned her that it would be a mistake to take Tony Hayes up on his offer and be his guest on Wake Up Birmingham." Morgan kissed her temple, then rested his jaw against the top of her head.

  "Just because you've warned her against doing it doesn't mean she won't surprise us all and show up on Tony's show one morning. And if she does, she'll think she's helping me in some way."

  "Cancel the fashion show," Morgan said, nuzzling her ear.

  "No. I can't. I refuse to give in to my fears and let what's happened in my life make me run scared." She sought his lips.

  He didn't try to reason with her, telling himself that there would be time enough later to bring her around to his way of thinking. The kiss soon got out of control and they went at each other like a couple of wild animals, lost to their own primal needs

  An hour later, they freshened up, dressed and locked the front door just as the security guard Morgan had hired to watch the house pulled up in the driveway. After giving the guard his instructions, Morgan hurried Bethany to her Mercedes
. It was after nine and he knew she was eager to get to her mother's and see Anne Marie. Mother and daughter had talked on the phone three times since Anne Marie arrived at her grandmother's after school, but only face-to-face contact would be enough for Bethany.

  "I wish we had time to stop by and see Claudia," Bethany said when Morgan pulled the car out of the driveway. "But since we're already running late, I'll just phone her again. She worries about me."

  "Mother's maternal attitude toward you and Anne Marie never ceases to amaze me," Morgan said.

  "Claudia is in many ways the same woman she always was, but she has changed. Losing you altered her priorities. If you'd give her half a chance, you might discover that you actually like your mother now."

  When she'd talked to Claudia this morning, Morgan's mother had wanted to know if she and Morgan had discussed his return to Birmingham sixteen years ago. When Bethany had told her that they hadn't, Claudia had wanted to know when Bethany was going to tell Morgan that he was Anne Marie's father.

  Soon. Very soon. Before the trial. Maybe even before the arraignment. She had kept father and daughter apart long enough. She owed it to both of them to reveal her secret. To give Morgan his daughter and present Anne Marie with the father she should have had since birth.

  As close as she and Anne Marie were, as easily as she often read her daughter's mind, Bethany had no idea how she would react to the news that Morgan was her father. She prayed that her daughter wouldn't hate her, that she would find it in her heart to understand and forgive.

  But Morgan was a different matter entirely. She had no illusions, no false hopes that he would ever forgive her.

  No matter what happened, she knew what she had to do. She had no other choice. Not really. She'd kept her secret far too long. It was past time to end the lie.

  "You're awfully quiet, honey." As they passed under a streetlight, Morgan stole a glance at Bethany. She had knotted herself tightly in her seat and stared out the window as if in a trance.

  "I was just thinking." Thinking about when, where and how I would tell you the truth about Anne Marie.

  "You mean you were worrying," he said.

  "You must admit that I have a lot to worry about."

  "I wish I could make it all go away, every worry you have. But all I can do is keep you safe and continue trying to find out who killed Farraday." He eased the Mercedes coupe along the road, keeping to the posted speed limit. "Sooner or later, something's got to give. The real killer can't afford to sit around safe and secure. It's only a matter of time until we zero in on him or her. Dane Carmichael is running an extended check on every suspect, and I've decided to call in another agent."

  Her heart jumped to her throat. "Why would you call in another agent?" Was he going to leave? After all they'd shared, could he simply walk away again?

  "I can't guard you twenty-four hours a day and do all the investigating that needs to be done. I've become too personally involved to be objective, and my first priority is taking care of you. I need someone on the scene whose top priority is solving the mystery of Farraday's murder."

  "But you've done everything possible to—"

  "Not enough," he said sharply. "Dammit, honey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm angry with myself. I haven't acted like a professional. I've gotten too wrapped up in your life. I care too much about you and Anne Marie. I should have already called in someone else."

  "Then you aren't leaving town and you won't turn your bodyguard duties over to someone else?"

  "No way would I trust your life to anyone else."

  "Then the other agent will—"

  "He'll do what I should have already done. Concentrate more on Farraday's murder. Somebody has got to know something. The day Farraday was shot, someone saw something that he or she doesn't even know they saw. I should have already talked to everyone who was at the station that afternoon. Dane can run a background check on every employee and still come up with nothing."

  The dark road lay ahead like a curling snake, the blackness shattered only by the occasional glare of oncoming headlights. Morgan damned himself for a fool. He'd promised Bethany that he would not only protect her but prove her innocence. And he'd already let her down by not admitting sooner that he couldn't handle this job alone. He'd call Hawk tonight and have him catch the first flight out of Atlanta in the morning.

  Bright headlights from behind the Mercedes struck the side-view mirror. Morgan muttered a vulgar oath under his breath.

  "I hate it when someone drives too close behind like that," Bethany said. "Especially on these dark mountain roads."

  "It would help if they'd dim their—"

  The offending vehicle bumped the Mercedes's back end. Bethany gasped. Morgan cursed loudly, then eased his foot down on the accelerator. The car behind them picked up speed, quickly catching up with them. The driver rammed them from behind again, more forcefully the second time. Morgan gripped the steering wheel with white knuckled ferocity.

  "That was no accident," he said. "Someone's playing games with us."

  "What do you mean?"

  Morgan tried to escape, but the faster he drove, the faster their attacker pursued them. Bethany gripped the seat with both hands. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears. Morgan maneuvered the Mercedes with expert skill, but the increased speed created havoc as he took the next sharp turn in the road.

  "Someone's playing a deadly game, and we're their prey," Morgan said.

  Coming up beside them, the driver slammed the side of his vehicle into the Mercedes, shoving it off the road. The white coupe skidded in the loose gravel on the shoulder. Morgan whipped the steering wheel around, cutting directly back into their attacker.

  "Hang on," Morgan told her.

  Bethany held her breath, nodding agreement, but unable to utter a single word. Fear clutched her stomach like an angry fist.

  Bouncing back, the driver of the other car sideswiped them again, forcefully shoving them off the road and over the side of the embankment.

  The Mercedes went down, down, down. The beam from the headlights bobbed up and then down as the car hit rough ground. A clump of trees hovered below like giant black demons lying in wait, ready to slaughter them.

  Bethany heard herself screaming, but the sound seemed to come from a distance, like a terrified echo reverberating in the wind.

  Dear God, they were going to die!

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  « ^ »

  Slamming his foot on the brake pedal, Morgan stopped the Mercedes only inches from the cove of trees blocking the descent down the mountainside. The headlights blasted the towering pines and the two ancient oaks, creating bizarre-shaped shadows. The sudden jolt threw Morgan and Bethany forward, the protective band of their seat belts the only barrier between their bodies and the windshield.

  Bethany gulped in air at a frantic pace. Her heartbeat roared in her head like a cyclone. "Oh, dear God. Dear God." She repeated the prayerful chant again and again.

  Killing the motor, Morgan drew up the emergency brake and sat very still for a brief moment. Focusing, centering his mind, he took control. Unsnapping his seat belt, he turned to Bethany. Even in the shadowy darkness he could still make out the terrified look on her face. Her eyes stared sightlessly straight ahead. Her breathing bordered on hyperventilation. Her body shivered, the quivering slight but noticeable.

  After undoing her seat belt, he ran his hands up and down her trembling arms. "Are you all right?"

  Not responding by word or action, Bethany sat there like a frozen statue on the verge of crumbling into pieces.

  Grabbing her by the shoulders, he turned her toward him and shook her gently. "Bethany, snap out of it. We're safe. We didn't wreck."

  "I—I thought we were going to die," she said. "What happened? Who ran us off the road?"

  "Come on, honey, we need to get out of the car. I'm not sure how secure we are. I don't think the car is going anywhere, but just in case it does, I don't want us
to be inside."

  Reaching across Bethany, he opened the glove compartment, removed a flashlight and then eased open the passenger's side door. "Get out, but be careful. We're on a fairly steep slope, it's dark and you could easily fall."

  When she hesitated, he gave her a gentle shove and said, "Go on, honey. I'm right behind you."

  Willing herself to move, Bethany clutched her shoulder bag to her chest and climbed out of the car and onto the uneven ground. Her knees buckled. Her foot slipped on some loose pebbles. She cried out, grabbing at the darkness surrounding her. Suddenly a pair of strong arms encompassed her, lifting her before she fell, setting her back on her unsteady feet.

  "Come on, Beth." He held her firmly around the waist. "We're not that far from the road."

  Turning on the flashlight, he pointed its beam toward the highway above them. The faint, narrow light cut an illuminated pathway through the high grass, weeds, scraggly shrubs and bushes. Together they climbed the slope, through the underbrush, Morgan's hold on Bethany never wavering as he guided her to safety. When they reached the shoulder of the road, Morgan sat, pulling Bethany down with him. She was slightly winded; he wasn't even breathing hard.

  The gravel gouged into her buttocks through the thin material of her cotton slacks. Reaching beneath her, she swept away a handful of rocks. Grunting as she squirmed, she settled more comfortably onto the cleared area.

  Morgan jerked his cellular phone from his pocket, flipped it open and dialed. Bethany grabbed his jacket sleeve.

  "Who are you—" she asked.

  "Varner? Yeah, this is Morgan Kane. Someone just ran Bethany Wyndham and me off the road up here on Red Mountain. No. We're okay. Just a bit shaken. No, we don't need an ambulance. We need a wrecker and a ride home."

  Bethany clutched Morgan's arm as he listened to Detective Varner. A dozen questions bombarded her mind. Who? Why? Jimmy's killer? Because they were closer to discovering his or her identity than they realized? Or had it been someone attacking them for some other reason?