by Jackie Braun
“And you’re sure I’ll cause them more,” she said sadly.
He stepped back, turned away. “I have reasons for being the way that I am,” he said slowly. It was as much of an explanation as he could bring himself to give her and more of one than he would have offered anyone else.
“Well, unless you want to live a very lonely life, you’re going to have to get over those reasons.”
CHAPTER FOUR
BRYAN sat across from his date in the upscale French restaurant, sipping a nice pinot noir and pretending to listen to his date while he replayed the conversation he’d had with Morgan that day three weeks earlier in his apartment.
…unless you want to live a very lonely life, you’re going to have to get over those reasons.
She was wrong. He wasn’t lonely, he assured himself. Far from it.
“Don’t you agree?” Courtney said now.
“Of course,” he replied, nodding even though he hadn’t a clue as to what had just been said.
All he knew was he had exactly what he wanted. Courtney Banks was worldly and wealthy and, okay, every bit as cynical as he was when it came to members of the opposite sex thanks to her own ugly divorce. But that made her perfect. She had absolutely no interest in settling down a second time and absolutely no need for his money. Since not long after his divorce, she and Bryan had gotten together whenever either of them felt the need for a no-strings-attached evening of fun. That’s why he’d called her tonight, but now the only woman on his mind was an outspoken blonde about whom he had no business thinking, much less dreaming as he had last night.
“You’re not listening,” Courtney accused, laughing.
Blinking, he said, “Excuse me?”
“You just agreed with me that the White Sox are a far superior ball club to the Cubs, and we both know what a rabid Cubs fan you are.”
He winced. “Sorry. I guess I have a lot on my mind tonight.”
“If I didn’t know better, Bryan, I might find myself jealous.”
He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “You’re not the jealous type.” Not to mention the fact that nothing about their relationship warranted the emotion. They weren’t exclusive. They weren’t committed. Neither one of them had spouted words of love, because, quite frankly, neither one of them wanted to fall in love again.
Courtney’s shoulders lifted in a delicate shrug. “I may not be jealous, but I am greedy. When I’m with a man, I want to be the only thing on his mind.”
“That’s no less than you deserve,” he agreed. And more than he was capable of this night. “Would you hate me if we ended the evening early? I’m not fit company.”
“Hate is the wrong word. I’ll be disappointed, though, and so will you. I had plans to model new lingerie.” She sent him a smile that in the past had sent blood pumping through his veins. He waited, hoping it would this time, but it had no effect on him.
“It’s my loss,” he said graciously.
“Yes, it is, and I’m glad you understand that.” Her brows rose meaningfully.
He paid the bill and they left the restaurant. After he dropped Courtney off at her Lake Shore Drive address, he should have continued north on 41 to Lake Forest, but Bryan found himself driving south instead. Back into the city. To his penthouse and Morgan.
It was past nine when he arrived at the door. He hesitated before knocking, oddly nervous. Maybe he should have called first. Hell, he shouldn’t even be here. What was he thinking? Even as he asked himself this, he raised his fist and rapped three times. If she didn’t answer right away, he would go.
The door swung open a moment later. Morgan was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that she’d left untucked. Her feet were bare, her toenails painted a sheer pink. She’d pulled her hair into a messy ponytail that was a nod to necessity rather than style. Other than a faint sheen of gloss on her lips, her face was free of makeup.
Bryan wasn’t sure what to make of the intense awareness that had him sucking in a breath. He only knew it didn’t bode well for him.
“This is a surprise,” she said.
“It’s late and I should have called first,” he replied, echoing his earlier thoughts. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay. I’m up.”
“I wanted to pick up a few shirts.” Which was a complete lie. “Mind if I come in?”
“It’s your home.” She shrugged and stepped back. “Don’t tell me you’re just getting off work.”
“No. I was…out with a friend for dinner.”
Her brows rose at the same time her lips twitched. “Is that code for a date?”
He didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh. She saved him the trouble of having to decide by asking, “Can I take your coat or won’t you be staying that long?”
He shrugged out of his suit jacket by way of an answer and handed it to her. While she hung it in the foyer closet, he reached up to loosen his tie. He was unbuttoning his collar when she turned. She averted her gaze.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“No. Well, not as long as you stop with that button,” she said bluntly.
“That was the plan.” He laughed self-consciously, and then changed the subject. “How’s Brice doing?”
“Oh, he’s great.” Her expression softened at the mention of her son. “And growing like a weed. He’s packed on another two pounds since our last visit to the pediatrician.”
“And it looks like you’ve lost that and then some.” His gaze meandered down and when interest sparked he told himself it was a natural reaction that had nothing to do with Morgan personally.
“I’ve been trying,” she admitted. “I have an entire wardrobe I’m eager to fit back into. You may not believe this, but I do own more than baggy shirts.” She tugged at the hem of the one she was wearing.
“You look good even in that.”
Her cheeks turned pink. “Can I get you a drink or something?”
“I wouldn’t mind a Scotch and soda.” When her brow wrinkled, he said, “I’ll get it myself.”
He walked to the wet bar tucked to one side of the room. Though he wasn’t much of a drinker, he kept it fully stocked. After filling a glass with ice and soda, he added a shot of Scotch. When he turned, she was seated on the sofa, feet tucked up beneath her, some papers spread out in front of her. Sheet music.
“What are you doing?” he asked, coming around the side of the couch.
“Trying to come up with song selections for a couple of my more advanced students.”
That had him puzzled. “You’re working?”
She glanced up. “At the south-side community center I told you about.”
“But I thought you agreed not to take the job?”
“No. I agreed not to leave your apartment until your parents arrive home from Europe.”
“But what about the baby?” he asked.
“Brice comes with me. It’s only a few hours in the afternoon.” She smiled. “He tends to sleep through most of it, even my beginner students. But when he doesn’t there’s no shortage of people eager to hold him. The kids adore him and so does the staff.”
Her explanation baffled him even more. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this. You shouldn’t be working right now, Morgan.”
“I need to. My bank account isn’t as flush as yours, which is why I’m still sending out résumés looking for a full-time teaching position.”
“But you just had a baby.”
“Even women whose jobs afford them a paid maternity leave would be back to work by now,” she pointed out. As the soon-to-be head of a Fortune 500 company, he knew this, of course. “If I were still at a school, of course, I would have the rest of the summer off. But working at the community center isn’t so bad. Actually, I find it quite satisfying, even if the instruments could all use an overhaul.”
“No baby grands?”
“Nope. Not a one. The grant money the center receives only goes so far. I moved my upright piano from storage to the ce
nter just so I would have something decent to play.”
“Why go to the trouble?”
“The kids.” Her eyes lit up. “I’ve never had such interested students. Some of them come from really disadvantaged backgrounds and dysfunctional homes and yet they are every bit as enthusiastic about music as I am. That makes them a joy to teach.”
“You really mean that.”
She frowned. “Of course, I do.” The baby began to cry then. She rose with a sigh. “Excuse me.”
While Bryan waited for her to return, he sipped his drink and paced around the penthouse, noting the new touches she’d added. A floral arrangement sat on a richly patterned runner in the center of his dining-room table. He’d never eaten dinner in that room, he realized. When he ate in the penthouse, he’d either sat on a stool at the kitchen island or taken his meal into the living room to watch television. He missed family meals, the kind where everyone gathered around the table and actually communicated. He hadn’t had that with his wife. After Caden was born, Bryan had thought maybe things would change. Of course, they had changed, just not how he’d expected or hoped.
Back in the living room he noticed a trio of fat scented candles on the fireplace mantel. They weren’t just for show. Their wicks had been burned. He imagined how the room would look, awash in only their light. Cozy. Intimate. Romantic.
He took another sip of his beverage and moved on. A framed picture on one of the side tables caught his eye. In it Morgan was flanked by an older couple. She was wearing a black robe and mortarboard, clutching a diploma and grinning madly. He picked it up to study it. She looked ready to conquer the world.
“That was taken at my college graduation.”
He turned to find her standing behind him. He hadn’t heard her return. Instead of feeling awkward about snooping—could one snoop in his own home?—he was curious.
“Are these your parents?”
“Yes.” She took the photograph from his hands, swallowing hard as she stroked their faces with the pads of her thumbs. In contrast to the radiant woman in the picture, the one standing in front of him was sad. “They were so proud of me.”
“You mentioned that they were gone.”
“Yes, both of them.”
“Sorry,” he said as she put the photo back in its place. Then he motioned with his hands. “You’ve added a few things to the room since you’ve been here, I see.”
“I hope you don’t mind.”
“No. I like what you’ve done. It looks nice.” In fact, it looked inviting, which was why even though he should be going, he found himself in no hurry to leave.
“Why haven’t you?” At his baffled expression, she added, “Made this space more personal.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I just don’t see the need.”
“But you’ve lived here for three years. Ever since your divorce.” At his raised eyebrows she said, “Britney told me that.”
He walked over to the couch and took a seat. He’d have to have a talk with his secretary. “What else did Britney say?”
“Not nearly enough to satisfy my curiosity,” she admitted baldly. “Why don’t you tell me the rest?”
“There’s really not much to tell. I was married for a few years, but in the end it didn’t work out, so we went our separate ways.” He shrugged, even though it was hardly that simple.
Morgan settled onto the cushion next to his. “Is she one of those reasons you spoke of before? For being the way you are today?”
He sipped his drink before answering. “Yes.” A single word, yet he felt as if he had just bared his soul.
“She hurt you,” Morgan said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement. “I’m sorry.”
Bryan wasn’t comfortable with her sympathy, especially because, when one got right down to it, his brother had done quite a number on her as well.
“I’ve gotten over it.”
“Have you?”
Where a moment ago he’d been in no hurry to leave, now he stood. “I should be going. You…you’re probably tired.”
“Too close for comfort?” she asked. “You only need say as much. You don’t need to run off.”
“I’m not running.” He forced himself to sit again. Then, feeling ridiculous, admitted, “Okay, I’m not comfortable talking about it. It wasn’t a pleasant experience.”
“I don’t imagine the end of a marriage ever is, regardless of the circumstances involved. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
God help him, he almost did. He’d kept it bottled up inside for so long. But he shook his head, unnerved by this sudden desire to share. “No. Thanks.”
“Okay, but the offer stands.”
Out of the blue, he heard himself ask, “Did you love him?”
She glanced away, her cheeks turning pink even before she admitted, “I only knew him for a week.”
Seven days and as many nights. Bryan’s stomach clenched.
“Some people fall in love at first sight, or so they claim.”
Her gaze reeled back to his. “Is that what you want to hear?” she asked. “That I saw Dillon across a crowded room and—bam!—lost my heart to him?”
“Yes. No!” His hands were fisted at his sides. He loosened them, shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Your relationship with Dill is no more my business than the relationship I had with him is yours.”
That was the end of it, he thought. Discussion over. But Morgan said quietly, “Just for the record, I’m not…promiscuous.”
Her face flamed red, giving her words even greater credence. Guilt nipped at Bryan as his thoughts turned to the probe he’d initiated into her background a few weeks back. Call it off, his gut told him. Get the facts, his head insisted. It wasn’t like him to be so damned indecisive.
He shoved a hand through his hair. “Dill could be irresistible,” he allowed.
“Yes, well, I’m usually pretty good at resisting, but I was at a low point in my life. A really low point. It’s not an excuse for my behavior,” she said quickly. “But it is a fact.”
“Do you regret it?”
“How can I? I have Brice,” she reminded him. “If I regret my actions, I’d have to regret him. And I don’t. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
He swallowed, nodded. “I’ll go now.”
“Your clothes.”
“I’ll get them another time.” As he started toward the door, he admitted, “I shouldn’t have come in the first place.”
“Why did you, then?” Morgan asked.
In the foyer, she retrieved his coat from the closet and handed it to him. Their fingers brushed, the contact fleeting. It sent shock waves through him just the same. Need built, both dangerous and exciting. Why had he come? Suddenly, he knew.
“I shouldn’t have,” he said again.
But she was just as persistent. “Why?”
“You don’t want to know, Morgan.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Because of this.”
He dropped the coat to the floor and cupped her face in his hands, drawing her to him even as he leaned down. His mouth was impatient, greedy. Hers was pliant, giving. So much so that even though the kiss began as an almost furious assault, it was an apology, an entreaty by the time it ended.
They stared at one another, their labored breaths seeming to echo off the marble floor. And because all he wanted to do was reach for her again, he scooped up his jacket, yanked open the door and left.
Morgan couldn’t believe he’d kissed her. For that matter, she couldn’t believe the way she’d responded. How could she expect him to accept her claim that she wasn’t promiscuous when she’d welcomed—indeed, reveled in—every second of their intimate contact?
But while she stood in the empty foyer and waited for shame to wash over her, it never came. And when she lay in bed later that night, still too keyed up to sleep, the only regrets she felt were that Bryan still didn’t completely tru
st her and that she hadn’t experienced this kind of white-hot attraction for her baby’s father.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE following week passed without a word from Bryan, and then a second one did, too. She wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or disappointed. She still grew warm every time she recalled that kiss, and, God knew, she thought of it often enough.
Did he?
She managed to push that question to the recesses of her mind only to have it spring front and center again when he called her on Friday evening.
“Morgan, it’s Bryan,” he said unnecessarily. It wasn’t as if she had many callers, let alone a male one with such a deep and sexy voice. “Are you free tonight?”
The question startled her, so it took her a moment to answer. In fact, she didn’t answer. She asked a question of her own. “Why?”
“There’s something we need to discuss.”
That sounded ominous and made her only a little more nervous than the thought that he might be asking her out. Maybe her reaction to his kiss had finally prompted Bryan to seek a paternity test.
“Have you eaten yet?”
She glanced at her watch. It was nearly seven o’clock. “Two hours ago. If a bowl of cereal can be considered dinner.”
There was a slight pause. Then he said, “I could pick up Chinese food on my way over. There’s a great place just around the corner from the penthouse. Interested?”
Though she wasn’t quite sure what to make of his offer, she said, “I like chicken and peapods, skip the egg roll and fortune cookie, and make sure to get white rice instead of fried.”
She thought she heard him chuckle. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”
Unfortunately, he was as good as his word, arriving on her doorstep just as she finished feeding Brice, who’d sent up a squeal almost as soon as she’d hung up the phone. That meant she hadn’t had a chance to do anything with her appearance. She was still wearing the loose-fitting tank-style dress she’d put on to go to the center. Her hair was pulled back in a clip at her nape, although several curls had made their escape and whatever makeup she’d put on that morning was long gone.