by Ciana Stone
A veil seemed to drop over her eyes. The clear green darkened to the color of spruce. “It didn’t really make sense to me either,” she said softly. “Until now.”
“Then explain it to me. Please.”
She nodded and extricated herself from his grasp to take a seat. “I have a…gift.”
Morgan sat down facing her. “A gift?”
“It’s hard to explain. Sometimes I see things. Know things about people.”
“You mean you’re psychic?”
“I suppose it’s something like that,” she answered. “Most of the time the Sight comes to me like a…a blackout. I lose myself to visions and am not aware of what’s happening around me. I draw what I see.”
“And that’s what happened when you drew this?”
“Yes. Last night.”
Morgan stared at her for a few moments, his brow furrowed in thought. “Do you have any idea why you drew this?”
She nodded and looked down for a moment. “I think maybe there’s a connection between us.”
“A connection?”
“Well, several actually.” She raised her eyes to meet his. “First of all. The day of this accident. You said that your father was trying to save a child. An infant girl?”
“Yeah. So?”
She shook her head and sighed, twisting her hands together in her lap. “Was this in June?”
“June 21.”
She nodded and gave another sigh, a sound of resignation that he didn’t understand. “I don’t know who my parents are. On June 21, 1979, Nadine Tosto found me on the side of a road. Abandoned. She said that the only clue was the embroidered shawl I was wrapped in. It had the word Hope stitched into it.”
Morgan felt the blood drain from his face and a shock jolt his body. “The woman who died in the accident. Her name was Hope.”
She nodded. “I think she was my mother.”
“No.” Morgan shook his head, disagreeing in a harsh tone. “It’s not possible. My father went back for the child and there was an explosion. No one survived it.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“I’m telling you it’s not possible. I was there. I saw it. The only way the child could have survived…hell, there isn’t a way.”
“Okay. But it’s an awfully big coincidence, don’t you think?”
“There seem to be a lot of those today,” he murmured, thinking of Nadine Tosto.
“What do you mean?”
Morgan rose and walked to stand in front of the kitchen sink, staring out of the window. “I was running this morning and twisted my ankle. A woman stopped and gave me a ride home. She walked me to the door and then left. But a few moments after I closed the door, she knocked on it and gave me a card. Said to call her if I needed help. With the voices.” He took a few steps to pluck a card from a small basket on the counter and turned to hand it to her.
“Nadine?” she asked with surprise evident in her voice.
“Nadine,” he said and nodded. “The same woman you’d gone to see and ended up here on my doorstep.”
Sara considered it. It was clear to her that Fate’s hand was at play. She was convinced that she was the child Morgan’s father had been trying to save. The timing fit. The problem was Morgan claimed that neither his father nor the child had survived. Could she be wrong? Was her conviction based on need? Did she just want to believe or was it real?
Suddenly her head popped up to look at him. “Voices?”
Morgan blew out his breath and leaned back against the counter. “Three days after my father died, I woke with…whispers in my head. I couldn’t understand what they said. For years I only heard them occasionally. But as time passed, they became stronger and more frequent. I thought I was going insane. Nothing could stop them. I tried drugs and alcohol and sex and therapy, and running myself to exhaustion and still I couldn’t stop them.
“They’ve been my companions and tormenters. They rob me of sleep, make it impossible for me to sustain a relationship and scare the hell out of me. And I don’t know how to get rid of them.”
He walked over and sat down in front of her, reached out and took her hands in his. “And one of the few times they’ve been silenced is when I’m with you.”
Sara couldn’t stop the tears that welled in her eyes. She felt his pain as if it were her own, understood the torment and fear. Every ounce of her energy became focused on one thought. To ease his suffering. To eliminate his pain. Nothing else mattered.
“Oh Morgan,” she breathed, disengaging one hand to lay it on the side of his face. “I’m so sorry.”
Her touch created a conflicting mass of emotions strong enough to make his breath catch. He felt compassion and genuine caring radiate through him. Along with desire. He felt her desire for him. With that came wanting. Hunger so deep that his gut burned and his balls ached. Something that had been smoldering inside him for years flamed to life. Primal and overpowering, it claimed him, bringing an immediate erection.
“Sara.” His voice was rough with need.
“Morgan.”
Her hand slid to cup the back of his head, pulling him closer. Her eyes beckoned him, her lush lips parted slightly, enticing him. He couldn’t resist. He didn’t want to.
Giving no thought to gentleness, he pulled her from her chair, rising in the same movement, to crush her to him. His lips were demanding against hers, taking her in a kiss that had his heart hammering and his dick throbbing.
She surrendered to him, her lips soft and yielding, her body pliant, molding to his. Morgan released her from the kiss long enough to sweep her up in his arms and carry her quickly to the bedroom.
He put her on her feet beside the bed, fisting both hands in her long hair for another searing kiss. The soft moan that came from her spurred his hands into action. “I want to see you. Touch you. Taste you.”
“Yes,” she breathed as he began undressing her, pulling her long-sleeved T-shirt up over her head.
A lacy pink bra cupped her full breasts, drawing him toward the shadowed depth between them. His hands cupped both breasts as his tongue worked down her cleavage. She tasted sweet, like jasmine-tinted honey. It was intoxicating. His mouth worked over one full mound, his fingers working the cup of her bra down so that her breast spilled free.
She gasped when his mouth fastened on her nipple, sucking and teasing the taut tip with his tongue. Her hands moved up to fist in his hair, pulled him more firmly against her breast, her back arching to press into the sensation.
A smell of rose, of wildflowers and musk filled his senses, a heady scent that went straight to his dick, making it pulse against her belly. Morgan’s hand worked down her body to unfasten her jeans, slipping down into the front to cup her wet sex.
She released her hold on his hair to assist, working her jeans down, stepping free of them as he spread her labia and worked his middle finger inside her.
She gasped and pressed against him as his finger located her G-spot. Morgan felt her come, flooding his hand, her body quivering, tightening then growing pliant as the wave subsided.
He released her long enough to ease her back on the bed. She watched with eyes hooded in desire, lips swollen from his kisses. He started to unfasten his pants, seeing her track the movements of his hands.
Someone knocked on the door. Sara looked up at him like a startled bird. His first thought was to ignore it. Whoever it was would go away. But the knocking became a persistent pounding, accompanied by a voice calling out.
“Morgan?”
It was then that Morgan remembered he’d scheduled a meeting with a potential new client.
“Shit!” He hurriedly buttoned his pants. “I’m supposed to meet with a client today.”
Sara bolted up, pulling up her pants and scrambling around on the floor for her discarded shirt. “I’ll leave!” she whispered.
“No.” Morgan took hold of her arm as she straightened, shirt in hand. “Please. Don’t go.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Okay,” she agreed and slid on her shirt when he released her. “I’ll just stay here and be quiet.”
“No.” He took her hand. “This is nothing you can’t hear. Come on.”
Together they went into the living room. Sara took a seat as Morgan answered the door. A large, heavyset man in an expensive suit stood on the other side of the door.
“I was beginning to think you were going to stand me up,” he said with a smile.
“Sorry, Dan.” Morgan gave the man a handshake. “We were tied up…going over some photos for the book.”
“We?” Dan asked and followed Morgan into the living room. “Oh!” He noticed Sara. “Hi. Dan Thomas.”
“Sara Tosto,” she said with a smile and stood to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“So, going over photos?” Dan directed the question to her. “You work with Morgan now?”
“N—” She never got the word out.
“Yes.” Morgan spoke over the top of her. “Sara has an amazing eye. I’ve asked her to work with me in selecting photos for the next book.”
“Wonderful,” Dan said and took a seat in a chair adjacent to the sofa.
Morgan took a seat beside Sara on the sofa. “So,” Dan said, “I hope you’ve decided to take the job.”
Morgan shook his head. “I don’t know if I’m the right man for the job, to be honest. Shooting political functions isn’t exactly my bag.”
“Nonsense,” Dan argued and directed his next comment to Sara. “Morgan’s been asked to photograph the Democratic convention. Get candid shots of the candidates, leading up to the party nomination then throughout the presidential campaign.”
Sara nodded and looked to Morgan. “It’s your business, but I think you’d be wonderful for this. Who else would be able to capture the essence of the people better than you?”
Her confidence and quiet praise filled him with pride and excitement. Suddenly he wanted to do the job. But on one very important condition.
“Tell you what,” he replied to her. “I’ll do it if you work with me.”
“Me? I’m not a photographer!” she insisted.
“No, but you have the eye to pick out the best of what I do,” he argued. “Just like you did earlier with the child picking flowers. If I’m going to do it I want to be sure that what the public sees is my best. I need you for that.”
She smiled through a wash of tears that flooded her eyes. Blinking them back, she nodded. “I’d be proud to help.”
Morgan turned to Dan. “Well, looks like we’re on.”
Dan grinned widely. “Wonderful. Then get packed. You leave tonight.”
“Tonight?” Sara asked.
Dan nodded. “Pack heavy because you’re not likely to be back home until the election is over.”
“But that’s more than a year!” she exclaimed.
“Yes,” he agreed with a smile and stood. “A jet will be waiting for you at the airport at seven sharp. I’ll have housing arranged before you reach Washington and a car waiting on you when you land. Get settled in and I’ll drop by tomorrow afternoon with your schedule.”
Morgan looked at Sara. “Can you arrange your schedule for this?”
She considered it for a few moments. Aside from the cosmetic ads she had nothing really on her plate. “Can I take some work with me?”
“Absolutely,” Dan answered her question. “Bring whatever you need or give me a list and I’ll have it waiting for you.”
“Thanks,” Sara replied with a smile that quickly faded. “Oh no, wait. I can’t do this. I’ll lose my place and I don’t have the money to pay the lease for that long.”
“Not a problem,” Dan said with a grin. “Just have the bills sent to me. I’ll take care of everything.”
She gaped at him in surprise and he chuckled. “Glad to have you onboard, Miss Tosto. See you both tomorrow.”
Morgan saw him out then returned to the living room where Sara was standing in shock. “You okay?” he asked, cupping the side of her face with one hand.
“Uh, yeah. Kind of in a daze. This kind of thing doesn’t happen to people like me every day you know.”
Morgan smiled then his face grew serious. “I meant what I said, Sara. I need you with me.”
“Then I will be,” she promised. “For as long as you need me.”
Morgan smiled gratefully and pulled her into his arms. For the first time since he was a child, he felt he could escape the voices, defeat the demons. As long as she was with him, he was safe.
Chapter Six
Sara was packed and ready when Morgan arrived at her house. Aside from one suitcase of personal belongings, she had only her laptop, monitor, external hard drive and graphics tablet to take with her. With the exception of her laptop, which she had in an aluminum case, everything else was all wrapped in bubble wrap inside a large travel case.
“This is it?” Morgan asked when she showed him her luggage. “Most women pack more than this for a weekend.”
“I’m not exactly the world’s biggest material girl,” she replied and then looked at him anxiously.
“What?” he asked.
“My clothes,” she replied. “Morgan, I don’t really have what you’d call professional outfits. Or even dressy stuff. Mostly just jeans, T-shirts and a few dresses and skirts that are sort of…alternative?”
“Don’t worry,” he said with a smile of assurance. “If you need something other than what you have, we’ll get it.”
“No!” She smiled in embarrassment at her outburst. “Sorry, it’s just that…well, I can’t afford it.”
“Yes you can,” he argued. “Dan has agreed to pay you as my assistant. And the job pays forty-eight hundred a month plus expenses.”
Sara nearly fainted. “Forty-eight hundred a month?”
“Not enough? I can see if he can go high—”
“No. No!” She interrupted with a laugh. “I’ve never made that much money in my life!”
Morgan laughed and grabbed the travel case bag with one hand and the suitcase with the other. “Stick with me, kid,” he drawled in a fair imitation of Humphrey Bogart. “This is just the beginning.”
Sara grinned and followed him to the door. Giving one last look around, she locked and closed the door, hoping the chapter that was about to begin proved to be positive.
They made it to the airport in ample time. Once aboard the luxurious private jet, provided for them by one of the party’s campaign supporters, they settled into deeply padded seats and were instructed to buckle up for takeoff. It was only an hour flight to Washington, where they would be based for the next year.
An attendant appeared once they reached cruising altitude to offer them champagne and caviar and let them know they would be landing in less than half an hour. Sara gladly accepted the champagne but passed on the caviar.
“Not a fan?” Morgan asked as he also declined.
Sara shuddered and sipped from the champagne. The flight attendant left them alone. Their eyes met and suddenly the cabin was charged with energy spiking between them.
For twenty minutes they tried to make small talk, speculating on the job at hand or where they would be staying. But the conversation faltered. Their eyes met and held.
Her nipples hardened beneath the fabric of her top. Morgan’s eyes moved to her chest and lingered before meeting hers again. “This is going to kill me,” he said gruffly, setting his glass aside. “Sara, I need you.”
Her skin tingled at his words and burned when he got up, lifted her from her seat and sat down in it with her on his lap. His hand cupped her breast, the thumb stroking slowly over her nipple.
She initiated the kiss, at first gentle and slow, tongues touching, caressing. It took only moments for the kiss to deepen to one of urgency and demand. She repositioned herself on his lap, straddling him. One hand worked to his groin, feeling for the hardness straining against the fabric of his slacks.
Sara forgot about the atte
ndant in the adjacent cabin. All that existed was Morgan. Her lips worked to his jaw, kissing, nipping, and then trailed lower, the tip of her tongue sliding down his neck as she fisted his hard cock through his pants, rhythmically squeezing.
“Jesus,” he groaned, pressing into her hand. “If you’re not careful you’re going to make me come.”
“Hmmmm,” she murmured against his neck.
“Sara,” he moaned as she squeezed harder.
“Morgan,” she breathed in his ear, exulting in the desire her touch evoked in him.
“Sara,” his voice took on a more urgent tone.
“Mr. Nicholaus?” A voice behind them had them both bolting up straight like kids caught raiding the cookie jar.
“Excuse me, sir,” the attendant kept her eyes averted, “but it’s time to buckle up. We’ll be landing shortly.”
Feeling embarrassed to have been caught in an intimate moment, Sara quickly climbed off Morgan and claimed the vacant seat. Once they both were buckled in, the attendant left. They cut their eyes to one another. Sara tried not to grin, but the wide smile on Morgan’s face elicited a giggle.
He laughed along with her and held out his hand. Feeling the happiest she’d ever been in her life, she clasped his hand in hers.
* * * * *
Sara was nearly bug-eyed with excitement as Morgan unlocked the door to a top-floor apartment of the Newseum Residences in the Capital City. Located on Pennsylvania Avenue, in the Penn Quarter neighborhood, it was only minutes from the White House and Smithsonian Museums on the Mall.
“Oh my!” she gasped as he stood aside for her to enter. It was the most luxurious place she’d ever seen outside of Danu’s castle. She turned to find Morgan grinning at her. “You can’t tell me you’re not excited,” she exclaimed, spreading her arms in gesture to the surroundings.
“Oh I’m excited,” he replied in a tone that sent a shiver racing down her spine and a tingling set up residence in her sex.
All thought fled when he took her into his arms, claimed her lips. All that existed was him. The feel of his body pressed against hers, the taste of him, and his tongue filling her mouth, his hands roaming down her back to cup her ass and press her firmly against his erection.