by Jane Porter
It was well past midnight, and Winnie stumbled a bit on the dirt path, the tiki torches burning so low that several had burned themselves out.
Morgan touched her elbow, steadying her as they reached the stone steps leading from the lower terrace to the house.
She smiled her thanks, so calm she didn't need words. Talking seemed redundant after all that had taken place. It had been the most amazing, perfect night. She knew she might not ever experience a night like this again, knew that the intensity, the chemistry and the passion she'd felt were unique to being with him.
Winnie didn't need to be told that not everyone clicked like this. She didn't need a dozen partners to recognize that what she'd found, what she'd felt, was something few people ever knew. Somehow she had been blessed. Somehow she'd been one of the lucky ones.
The house was quiet, most of the interior lights dimmed. Here and there a small light illuminated a work of art, and some of the large bronze sculptures. But lights were unnecessary with the windows unshuttered and the moonlight pooling in. The house felt like an extension of the warm sultry night and Winnie held her breath a moment, telling herself to remember, telling herself to forget nothing.
This is a taste of heaven, she thought, holding her breath a moment, keeping the joy within. To be loved like this. To be touched like this. To feel so good, so amazing with someone else.
Morgan brushed her elbow, prompting her forward, directing her past the dining room to the kitchen. In the kitchen a light glowed above the large French stove, the stove painted a cheery color red. "Hungry?" he asked.
She nodded. "And thirsty."
"Grab one of the bar stools."
Winnie sat at the counter, discovering that sitting she was more tender than standing. Definitely no longer a virgin. Thanks to Morgan she knew a great deal more than she had this time yesterday.
Morgan foraged in the huge stainless-steel refrigerator, gathering fruit and cheese and bottles of chilled mineral water. He carried everything to the counter, before locating a loaf of bread, butter and a sharp knife.
It was like a picnic, sitting at the counter in the virtual dark. They ate bread and cheese, and while Morgan cut juicy slices of mango and papaya, he didn't talk.
She was glad; words would spoil it. Winnie liked the silence, the stillness, and the sense of mystery.
Until tonight she'd never really lived. Until tonight she'd never fit her skin. She'd always felt so plain before, so heavy and awkward, but in Morgan's arms and against Morgan's chest she felt lovely. Lovely on the inside as well as the out.
No longer a girl, but now a woman.
There are certain rites of adulthood and tonight she'd been initiated into the most meaningful of all.
It wasn't about sex, she thought, sucking the juice from a papaya slice, but about living. It was one thing to love a man with your heart, but something entirely different to love him with your soul.
She loved Morgan through and through, and making love had only deepened her trust, cemented her loyalty. No matter what happened in the future, she would always be part of him, and he'd be part of her.
Satiated in more ways than one, Winnie yawned. She tried to cover her mouth with her hand but Morgan still caught the yawn and laughed softly.
"You're beat," he said, handing her a damp paper towel to wipe her sticky fingers clean.
"I am beat," she admitted, scrubbing the juice from her fingers and the palm of her hand.
He watched her for a moment before leaning forward and kissing her on the forehead, then on her mouth. "Thank you."
Winnie set the crumpled paper towel down. "Why are you thanking me?"
"Because." His dark blue eyes looked almost black in the dim kitchen light.
Winnie waited, forcing him to articulate.
His smile was small, his eyes shadowed with things he still hadn't shared, stories and history he kept buried inside. "It was good tonight. It was really good between us. It just felt right."
It did.
It felt really right.
Warmth filled her. Her eyes burned, and the emotion she felt was so different from other happiness. This happiness was something permanent, something she'd always have because she'd had one perfect evening, one most perfect setting, and one most perfect lover. "I love you."
She hadn't meant to say it, had thought the words, had felt the words, but hadn't meant to say anything at all. But now that the words had been spoken, she didn't regret it. How could she? It was the truth, and if she couldn't be honest with him now, when could she?
Morgan held her face in his hands, his thumbs against the curve of her cheekbones. "Winnie, I believe in you." He kissed her mouth gently, in a long lingering kiss. And when he lifted his head he added, "Now it's time for you to believe in you."
He kissed her briefly and they said good night.
Winnie closed the bathroom door behind her, turned on the shower, dropped her robe and stepped inside the wide white-marble enclosure. She let the hot water pulse down, rinsing all the salt and sand and perspiration away.
Hair clean, skin clean, Winnie toweled off, brushed her teeth, slathered lotion allover and climbed into bed.
But sleep was fitful. Hours later her body was still so sensitive that she'd wake, certain that Morgan was with her, that his hands were on her and they were making love again.
By the time morning came Winnie felt exhausted.
She woke up at five, went to her window, folded the shutters back and pushed open the sliding French door.
For nearly a half hour she sat on her balcony and listened to the waves roll and crash and felt the cool night air slowly warm.
She'd always believed that love was the most important thing between a man and a woman, and she'd promised herself years ago that she'd wait to make love until she was truly in love. Well, she'd done that. She'd waited to make love, she'd waited for Morgan, and last night proved that the wait had been worth it.
But what happens now?
She curled up in the chair and watched the sun begin to rise, the purple sky lightening to weak yellow and pale blue.
From her balcony she could see a strip of white sand and she thought of them last night, out there, in the water and on the beach. She could picture Morgan naked in the moonlight, his broad shoulders and chest a gorgeous sun-kissed shade of gold. She could still see him, the way he'd looked reclining on the blanket on the sand. He'd been passionate and yet gentle, confident and loving.
It'd been such an amazing experience. The dinner, the sunset, the late-night swim. These things didn't usually happen in her life. These were the kinds of storybook events that happened to other people-people like her sisters, people like Annika, people who were poised and sophisticated and physically beautiful.
Morgan had said last night he found her beautiful but that was last night in the heat of the moment. Would he find her beautiful later, when back in New York? Would he find her as sexy and compelling when life returned to normal?
Winnie stirred restlessly, uncomfortable with the questions she posed to herself. She didn't want to answer those questions, didn't want to think about the future.
She got out of her chair, left the balcony to return to her bed. She drew the sheet up, covered herself all the way to her chin as if she could somehow block the little voice of doubt already whispering in the back of her head.
Things here might feel idyllic but this is paradise. What happens when you leave heaven for Manhattan? What happens when you're back in the Tower's building and working for him?
It was after ten when she woke up again and this time she was more rested. Dressed in a light green sundress, Winnie wandered through the house, outside to the veranda and, hearing Morgan talk, she followed the sound of his voice.
As she descended the stairs to the pool terrace she caught snatches of his conversation.
"How can she be having trouble already?" Morgan said shortly. "I'm not even there. There shouldn't be anything stressful for her to
do."
Winnie opened the wrought-iron gate and closed it behind her. As she rounded one large pot teaming with hibiscus flowers she spotted Morgan on the phone, pacing by the pool.
He wore nothing but navy cotton shorts, and his skin, burnished bronze, glistened. Winnie spotted a pair of shoes next to one of the chaise lounges and realized he'd only just returned from a run.
"No!" he thundered, voice rising. "I shouldn't have to be dealing with this now. I'm on vacation."
He didn't know she was there, she realized, recognizing he was on a business call, probably with someone from the office. It was Monday morning and most people were back at work.
Morgan swore softly and raked a hand through his dark damp hair. "You're not listening," he interrupted sharply. ''The whole point of hiring her was to ensure I didn't have to be doing this while I was gone. If she can't handle the job, get rid of her. I can't afford these kinds of mistakes."
This didn't sound good. Someone had clearly goofed at the office and she knew better than anyone that Morgan didn't tolerate sloppy work or thoughtless errors.
Morgan turned around and spotted her there. His brooding expression cleared and he lifted a hand, waving her over.
"Handle this," he concluded as she approached him. "Today."
Without saying goodbye, he abruptly hung up.
Winnie dropped down on one of the chaise lounges.
"Did you have a good run?"
"Yes." He leaned over, kissed her. "Although I have to admit I'm not working at full strength."
She felt herself blush a little but she couldn't help grinning. "What happened? Too much exercise yesterday?"
"Not too much, just right." He moved to the freestanding shower set back from the pool, turned the faucets on and rinsed himself off.
Clean, he grabbed a towel from the pool cabana and rubbed his hair dry. Winnie didn't mean to stare but he was so beautifully made, so tightly constructed of muscle and bone.
Morgan sat down next to her. "Had breakfast yet?"
"No, but I'm not very hungry."
"Well, lunch won't be long now. Here on island time the kitchen's always open and there's always something good to eat."
"Island time. I like that."
Leaning back she looked up into the azure sky. She could hear birds twittering and warbling. Sunshine glazed everything with perfect white-gold light. Life here was certainly far removed from the cares of New York. From the worries of the office and the billions of dollars Morgan managed at Grady Investments. Which reminded her of Morgan's conversation. "Everything all right at the office?"
He sat forward, muscles in his hard abdomen contracting. "There are a couple of problems, but nothing that won't get straightened out."
"Sounds like an administrative problem," she cautiously persisted. "Something happen with one of the assistants?' '
Morgan draped his towel around his neck, biceps bunching. "I might have to let someone go."
She mentally went through the administrative assistants that worked for Grady Investments. Most of them had been there for three years or more. "Who?"
"You don't need to worry-"
"But maybe I can help. Maybe when we get back I can put in some time, or help her on training. It could be that she's gotten rusty. I'll sit down with her first thing next Monday."
He ruffled his hair. "It's not quite that easy. She's my new assistant."
Winnie sat there stunned. For the longest moment she couldn't think of anything to say. She wasn't thinking period. Finally she roused herself and scooted to the edge of the longue, put her feet over the side as if she were bracing herself. "You fired me?"
"I didn't fire you."
"But you have a new assistant."
He didn't immediately speak. Then he exhaled slowly, a low rush of air. "Yes."
She felt a rush of emotion, a very painful rush of emotion. "I can't believe you replaced me."
"You were marrying me."
"But you can't replace me. I had a job. I liked my job. You can't replace me without discussing it with me."
Morgan stood up, took a few steps and snapped his towel. "We were getting married, Winnie. I thought you'd have enough to do at home-"
"What?" she demanded, jumping to her feet. "Ironing? Cooking? Grocery shopping?"
"No, I have Mr. Foley for all that," he answered impatiently.
"Exactly! If we'd gotten married, what would I do all day?"
Morgan groaned. "I don't want to do this. I want breakfast and coffee. I'm on vacation. Island time. No fights here, no rules, either."
"No!" Her eyes burned. A lump filled her throat. "You can't dismiss the conversation, or me, like this. You've taken my job from me, and I loved my job--"
"You couldn't have loved it that much. You were looking for a new job. You flew to Charleston just five weeks ago and interviewed with Osborne Manufacturing."
Winnie felt a heaviness settle in the pit of her stomach and she blinked hard to keep the tears from falling. "When did your new assistant start?"
"Winnie’
"Tell me!"
"Today."
"When were you going to tell me?”
'We were going to be on our honeymoon. I needed someone at the office. You can't be in two places at once."
She shook her head, hurt and furious. ''Well, then I take the job!"
"Bull." He crossed the flagstones, walking to her. "You didn't like the job. You liked being with me."
"Wrong."
He caught her by the waist, dragged her toward him.
"Not wrong. I know you," he said, voice deepening. "Maybe you did like your job, but you love me more. You want me more."
His mouth covered hers in a hard, relentless kiss, his hands burying deep in her loose hair. His tongue parted her lips and he drank the air from her lungs. Winnie's head swam, her senses reeling from the explosive contact.
He'd never kissed her like this before, never kissed her with anger or aggression, but she wasn't afraid as much as excited. His emotion matched her own and she answered his kiss, boldly pressing herself against him, and standing on tiptoe to cup the back of his head, her fingers coiling in his damp crisp hair.
She felt him harden against her, felt his arousal through his thin cotton shorts. He groaned deep in his throat as she rubbed her hips across him and with one hand he cupped her breast, kneading the nipple.
Winnie loved the feel of his hand on her breast and when he nudged her legs wider apart she wanted to be naked, wanted to feel him buried inside her.
"Come with me," he said, breaking away and leading her into the cool darkness of the poolside cabana.
He closed the door behind them, reached under Winnie's sundress and pulled off her panties and then hoisted her onto the slate counter.
The counter's coolness against her hot skin heightened her awareness.
He slid the spaghetti straps of her sundress off her shoulders and then pushed the thin green fabric down so that her dress wrapped around her waist.
"You're gorgeous," he said, bending his head to suck one nipple and then the other.
She was feeling so warm, very excited, yet he wouldn't touch her anywhere but on her breasts. Winnie battled to catch her breath as he alternately lashed and suckled each nipple with his tongue.
She squirmed on the counter, needing, wanting, and feeling completely empty. "Please."
He looked up at her, his jaw thick, his eyes dark with passion. "Please, what?"
"Touch me."
"But I am."
Heat burned in her cheeks. "No, you know."
He shook his head. "No, I don't know."
But he ruined his excellent acting by sliding his thumbs across her damp, sensitive nipples, creating fresh friction, more tension, more heat.
Winnie shuddered, rib cage expanding as she drew a deep unsteady breath. "Morgan-"
"Yes?"
His thumbs were drawing endless circles on the areolas. His thumbs went around and around, cir
cles that made her belly clench and her insides ache and her knees clamp together to appease the urgent need.
She felt hot. Hot inside her skin. Hot outside her skin.
She couldn't stand such bittersweet torment.
Morgan lifted her head forcing her to look deep into his eyes. "What do you want?" he persisted.
"You."
Without letting her go, he pulled her forward, parted her knees and entered her in one smooth, swift stroke. His thrusting was hard, intense, deliberate. He held her hips firmly and with each stroke buried himself more deeply. This was primitive and raw, fierce and possessive. Winnie knew she wouldn't be able to hold back much longer.