Possessing Morgan

by Bonnie Edwards

  MAC SCANNED THE WOMAN’S features. She was serious. Her deadpan delivery proved it. She’d said these same things many times. To her, he was just another in a long line of people having vehicles repossessed. She didn’t care who he was. A job was a job was a job to her.

  She didn’t know he was in the midst of a security crisis and she might be an unwitting pawn. Jack was right, the photos were just the beginning. This was a personal attack. First the pictures were delivered to Mona, then his security on the gates was compromised, and now his payment for the Morgan was somehow invalid. This paperwork looked legitimate. And this woman believed she was here to do her job, when what she was unwittingly doing was delivering another message.

  Jack needed to know about this right away.

  But until Mac knew how his payment had been rigged, he couldn’t let her leave.

  Especially not with the Morgan.

  Her lively, intelligent gaze filled with heated interest that ricocheted down to his groin. The tilt to her chin and her straight back indicated an inner struggle to stay focused on the job.

  Her expression was made up of three parts confidence and one part defiance. Most women he knew were polished enough to be coy and flirtatious. But this one? Didn’t have a coy bone in her body. “I’ll get Rory, my personal assistant, out here to confirm payment. He’ll get the bank on the phone.”

  Mac ran his fingers through his hair, determined to prove payment was made. He’d transferred the funds himself before he left for Africa. A quick call was all that was needed to save the day, but until then, he’d be happy to keep his eye firmly on the woman.

  “The car will be back before you know it.” She gave him a cool smile and climbed into the truck cab. Sitting sideways so that her legs dangled outside, she stretched for the radio on the dash. She held a thumb over the talk button. “Now, open the gates or I’ll have the police here.”

  “You’re serious.” He stepped to back toward the house, holding up a hand to delay her. Tempted to call her bluff, he considered the uproar in the tabloids if his estate was swarmed by officers. “You must see that this is not your usual situation with deadbeats.”

  She nodded. “Most people don’t want me to stick around. They want me and my truck off the property.”

  Her matter-of-fact behavior convinced him she wasn’t part of some scheme to steal his car. This was more likely a hack by his stalker. Damn, Jack would tear a strip off him for having been cavalier about this. After his friend laughed long and hard.

  He pressed the intercom that connected him to Rory’s rooms and asked him to bring a phone to the front door. “Thanks, Rory. We have a situation that needs your immediate attention.”

  He wanted to know her name. Probably a reaction to the way she’d ignored him, but there it was. He got what he wanted. Always. He’d learned how to circumvent obstacles at sixteen when he’d taken on the medical establishment to help get Lindsay back on her feet. That lesson in dogged determination had served him well in business, and it would serve him well with this auburn-haired beauty.

  God, she was sexy. She wore a light gray T-shirt with a row of open buttons down the front that showed enough cleavage to make him think of the Grand Canyon.

  He moved close to the truck door. A vanilla scent wafted by his nose. He strained for more, but it was gone after one whiff.

  Her smooth tanned knees were now at his chest height and he struggled to keep from staring at them. Tried to stop imagining them open in invitation.

  She blew out a breath. “This personal assistant of yours had better hurry because the day’s half gone and you’re not the only pickup I have.”

  “But I bet it’s the only one you’ve got in this neighborhood. You can wait five minutes.” She was raw and rough and sassy as hell and he enjoyed every bit of it. It was all he could do to suppress a grin.

  His comment brought a tilt to one corner of her mouth but she refused to respond with more. Instead, she removed her short beige leather work gloves. Strong, capable hands that had felt fragile and small in his. Plain, unadorned hands. No polish. No rings. How had he missed that salient fact earlier?

  He handed her the clipboard. She took it from him, careful not to brush his fingers, then set it on the littered dashboard.

  “Now, tell me how you got in here.”

  “Easy. As soon as the suit left I scooted up the driveway.”

  “Scooted in this thing?” He patted the heavy door.

  “Okay, so scooted isn’t exactly the right word—more like booted it up the driveway.”

  “But the suit would have seen you make a dash. He’d have followed you back in.”

  She shook her head. “He didn’t.” She checked her nonexistent manicure. “And the gate was open all morning, ever since the suit arrived.” She shifted to face front, but kept her left leg outside in an enticing dangle.

  “How long did you wait?”

  She swung her leg back and forth in a tick-tock motion. His gut tightened with each seductive swing of her booted foot.

  Tick tock.

  Tick.

  Tock.

  Abstinence had gotten to him if her feminine version of ankle-high work boots seemed erotic. Tan leather laced to the top, heavy socks rolled down to a neat fold, they made him hot. He rubbed the back of his neck to try to reverse the flow of blood from his head. “Why didn’t you follow Jack in when he arrived?”

  “I wanted to wait for your guest to leave before I picked up the car.” She blinked and went pink in the cheeks. Amazing. “I didn’t want to cause you embarrassment by showing up in the middle of something important. I appreciate this is a private matter for you.”

  Special treatment never surprised him, but her sensitivity did. Until now she’d been blunt and matter-of-fact. He shied away from calling it rude because there were times he was just as direct.

  She swung her leg as if it helped contain some of the nervous energy that crackled around her. Tick. Tock.

  “Where did you hide?” he asked to keep his mind off her leg.

  “Across the street beside that big bush that needs a trim.” She frowned. “You’ve done a good job distracting me, but your time’s up. You can’t keep me locked in here,” she said as she pressed down the talk button on the handset. The radio crackled to life.

  He reached in, covered her hand with his and looked deep into her green eyes. Her breath caught and that vanilla scent blew over him. Unfortunately, he hadn’t made adjustments for her swinging leg. It caught him between the legs. “Oof!”

  “Sorry,” she murmured, and bent her knee to give him room.

  “No harm done,” he muttered. The handset fell into his palm as he shifted his hips out of harm’s way. Good God, the woman was exquisite up close. Her cheeks went the same shade of pink he’d seen before while the rest of her face paled to white. Her lips were moist and perfect and far too close, but he couldn’t move away as he fought the urge to lean in closer and take…

  “Tell me your name.” She reached for the handset as his fingers closed around it. Her lips parted and he wanted to dive in to take her mouth with his. Then he wanted to crawl on top of her and press her into the seat. Wanted to feel her wrap those incredible legs around him. Wanted those sexy booted feet in the air.

  But Rory was on his way, and until he knew exactly how his system had been breached, he needed to focus.

  He had to be as focused as she was.

  He picked up the sound of Rory’s footsteps and asked again, softly, “Your name?”

  “Morgan. Morgan Swann.” She rolled her eyes and feigned innocence.

  “This is a joke.”

  She shook her head. “Nope. Ironic, right?”

  He looked at the car, then back at her. “Ironic, yes.” He heard a throat clear behind him. Rory. Time had run out.

  “What’s going on?” Rory asked.

  Mac wasn’t sure if he meant the tow truck or the way he’d all but climbed into the cab with a gorgeous woman. Heat glowed in
the depths of her green gaze and he had no desire to leave.

  “Sir?” Rory asked again. “What’s happening with the Morgan?”

  “I wish I knew,” he muttered. Her eyes went from hot to good-humored just before he turned to Rory. “Morgan here—” he stepped aside so Rory could see her “—claims the Morgan there—” he gestured toward the car “—hasn’t been paid for. She’s here to repossess it.” He couldn’t mention the stalker in front of Morgan. That was private business and Jack would see to it.

  “The term is recover,” she clarified. “I recover property.” She stared, awestruck, at Rory, who looked resplendent in his tuxedo. The old man cleaned up well. “And you’re wearing a tuxedo. In the morning!”

  It was the utter shock in her tone that finally wrecked Mac’s control. He laughed, long and hard, and dodged another poke in the chest.

  He grabbed her hand before she could pull it back. “Not this time,” he said, and kissed her fingertip.

  “Hey,” she protested and drew her hand back. She looked at her finger. “Point taken. No more poking.”

  The older man sputtered, “Poking? She’s poking you?” Then he stared down at his tuxedo. “This is for—” His eyes went wide. “Never mind why I’m dressed like this.” He assessed Morgan with a hard-ass expression.

  “BB WARNED ME ABOUT this job going weird,” Morgan muttered. She’d swear nothing this strange had ever happened to a Five Aces driver before.

  The rich were different. It was easy to see why the fancy-dressed man oozed competence and command. He leveled a gaze meant to intimidate her. “Mr. McRae arranged for the funds himself.”

  “Which confirms exactly nothing. I still have to take it.”

  The butler bristled but Morgan refused to budge. If she left without the car she would have to admit to BB that she’d switched jobs with Joe, and come here without anyone knowing. Then Joe would be in as much trouble as Morgan and that wasn’t fair or right. She had to stick to her guns and get this car out of here.

  “The video feed to my security monitor has been tampered with, Rory.”

  Rory blanched. “But how?”

  “That’s one of several questions for the day.”

  “But I just checked the monitors. Everything looks fine.”

  “It’s supposed to. Please call Jack. He’ll look into it. You’ve got more important things to deal with today.”

  Rory gave him a tight smile. “That I do.” He made the call on the portable phone he’d brought out with him. He repeated the news about the monitor video feeds and wound everything up with her arrival to recover the Morgan. “Yes, sir, thank you,” he said into the phone.

  There was more going on here than she knew, but since it wasn’t any of her business, she pretended not to hear a thing.

  When Rory hung up, his gaze cut to Kingston. “Mr. Carling will return right away, sir.”

  “Thank you, Rory.” His tone surprised her. He was calm and polite with Rory. Patient, too. This low rumbling purr was his real voice, the one he used with those he cared about. She hadn’t heard it until now.

  “It’s possible there’s more happening here than a missed payment or simple bank error, Ms. Swann,” Kingston said.

  No kidding! “Look—” She held up both hands. “I’m sorry for your troubles but I need my job. And right now, my job hinges on me sliding myself and my truck right on out of here with the Morgan along for the ride.” Any moment one of them would step back to the door and push whatever button operated the gates. If they thought her job really was on the line, they’d let her go. When neither of them moved, she pressed the issue again. “You have no right to hold me here.” Avoiding BB’s long-term wrath was worth the white lie about her job.

  Kingston moved in close again. She closed her eyes to lessen his effect on her breathing. No good. His voice went low and soft, trickling seduction along her nerve endings. “This is an attack on my security system and on my personal accounts at the least. It could get worse before it gets better. Can’t you see your way clear to wait until we sort out the car?”

  She peeped one eye open and found him staring at her. The man was too much! Demanding and autocratic one minute, reasonable and kind another. Now she saw a man who needed her understanding. She sank toward compliance, unable to deny him when he needed help. “Will you do that, Morgan? Will you wait while we sort this out?”

  She swallowed hard at the sound of her name spoken with that rumbling tone and nodded. “Getting the Morgan to the impound yard this morning seems less likely by the minute, but I’ll keep it rigged to Bessie if you don’t mind.” If she called Joe and asked him to avoid the office for the time being, she’d buy time.

  “Rory, could you please explain to Miss Swann—” Kingston stared at her. “It is Miss, isn’t it?” His gaze cut to her naked ring finger.

  Her heart stalled as she squeaked out a reply. “Yes, I’m single. Completely single.” Nothing like advertising. Damn her mouth.

  The heat in his gaze stole another breath as her heart kicked in again. If this kept up, she’d be dizzy in no time.

  The older man gave her a stern look. He seemed as outraged as most men when she did her job. “I’ll call the bank immediately.”

  “Thank you,” Kingston said with a smile as Rory turned to leave. “Let us know what you learn.”

  Rory strode into the house, his shoulders squared, back straight, although he must be seventy-plus.

  “Some men would automatically suspect the help,” she said. At least, that’s the impression she had of the extremely wealthy. The World Courier was full of stories of obnoxious behavior from movie stars and supermodels.

  He chuckled and shook his head. “Rory? Cheat me? Not a chance.”

  His eyes warmed to caramel when he was amused. She could never learn that from a tabloid.

  “My friends call me Mac.”

  “Oh.” Her belly dropped because he felt the easy comfort between them, too. A moment of connection. A blink in time but a lifetime to her.

  “Could someone have stolen your identity? Caused mischief that way?” she suggested in spite of her decision to stay out of his problems.

  “You mean with the car payment. It’s possible, I suppose. I thought this was a security breach at first, but you may be right.” He frowned. “It’s been an odd morning to say the least.”

  She shrugged. “Identity theft happens a lot these days. Or you sometimes hear stories about people who pretend to be relatives of—” She shut up. He didn’t want to hear her thoughts.

  “Celebrities? The wealthy?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “They pretend to be sons, cousins, even heirs to fortunes.”

  “I don’t have any brothers.” He gave a lopsided grin. “That I know of, anyway.”

  “It’s another way to look at the problem. We don’t make mistakes at Five Aces, um, Mac.” Her cheeks warmed when she used the familiar form of his name. “If we have this paperwork, you can bet that somewhere there’s an account that shows you didn’t pay your bill.”

  “Beautiful and smart. Thanks for the suggestion. I’ll get Jack on it right away…Morgan.”

  Her cheeks burned hotter. “Jack’s the suit?” she guessed.

  “Jack Carling, the head of my security team.”

  “Ha! You better rethink that position. ’Cause he’s doing the dog on this one.”

  He cocked one eyebrow and took the moment from warm and friendly to hot and intense in a heartbeat. “He’ll be hard enough on himself about all of this. He doesn’t need any reminders from me.”

  Surprised at his attitude toward what anyone else might consider a major inconvenience, she made a show of checking her watch. “Will Mr. Carling be here soon? I can give you a few minutes, but no longer.”

  He nodded and his face lit up with a breathtaking smile. She’d seen his smile in photos, but aimed at her in the bright light of day, it had nuclear force.

  She should have been long gone by now, but she’d wast
ed precious seconds when she’d caught a glimpse of him at the upstairs window. She’d gone into a fantasy-induced stupor at the idea of meeting him. She could have had the Morgan under way in thirty seconds, but instead, she’d stalled out like a gushing schoolgirl.

  Who was she kidding? She’d left her hair down, shaved her legs and moisturized with her favorite vanilla-scented body lotion this morning just on the off chance she’d get a peek at the man. In her wilder moments of wildest fantasy she hadn’t come up with this scenario.

  She never imagined Kingston McRae looking at her as if she were an ice cream treat on a hot day.

  He slid his hands into his trouser pockets, eyes caught on hers in male interest. If they hadn’t locked horns over his car, they might be locking lips.

  “Then again,” she said with a grin, “this may not be the suit’s fault. Maybe I’m good at my job.”

  He grinned at that. “I’m sure you are. And I think that as far as you and Five Aces are concerned, the paperwork’s legitimate.”

  “Sometimes an unlucky ex gets snagged up in a web of legal nonsense and underhanded credit scams out of vengeance. Do you have a woman who’s mad at you?”

  “I make no promises to women.” His lip quirked. “Besides, I don’t believe you’d go along with something this underhanded.”

  “I’d be straight up if I was piss—ticked off with a man. If I’d been left—”

  “So, this isn’t personal between you and me.”

  “Of course not!” What she wouldn’t give to get personal, though.

  “The good thing is, I’ve never set eyes on you before—”

  She blustered an interruption. “Of course you haven’t. We don’t exactly run in the same circles, you and I.”

  “—because if I’d ever seen you before I’d remember you.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t know what to make of that, so she looked at her feet.

  Then his.

  He was in his socks. Very nice socks. Expensive.

  She felt his searing stare and melted into a puddle of hormones. Kingston McRae was mind-bogglingly handsome in real life. Vibrant and bright, he was hard planes and smooth strength in a package topped by burnished oak hair with matching eyes.