Possessing Morgan

by Bonnie Edwards

  Eyes that widened with pure let-me-at-it male interest when she let her glance travel up from his socks to his face. He was bigger and more solidly built in person than he looked in the tabloids. Those pictures never did him justice. And the tuxedos he wore to movie premieres hid most of his muscles. Morgan got an eyeful now. Oh, Mama!

  Every dream she’d let shatter and scatter over the past seven years now re-formed as sharp and clear as they’d ever been.

  Oh, get a grip! What she felt was not about dreams or being swept off her feet. It was lust, pure and simple. Her sex twitched, her breath rattled, her face heated.

  From the focused male expression on Kingston McRae’s face, he was on the other end of this arc of desire.

  Like the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, he waited.

  Wanted.

  Just like her.

  4

  “THIS RECOVERY COULD be an embarrassment, if the tabloids pick up on it.” Kingston’s statement held a question.

  “I understand,” Morgan said. She’d never share her impressions of him with the public. Well, maybe BB. But she could trust her friend to keep quiet. “The World Courier would punish you for months with this. From what I’ve seen in tabloids lately, punish is the right word.”

  “You’ve seen that rag?”

  “Only the headlines while I’m at the cash desk.” She refused to admit she pored over the articles and pictures.

  “It’s one thing to speculate on my deliberately public romances, but it’s dirty to go after my personal financial situation.”

  She leaned against Bessie, trying to ignore the broad hint about deliberately public romances. Did he mean the stories about him being a playboy were phony? Was he nothing like his reputation? Stick to the point, Swann! “If it helps, in spite of my past experience with deadbeats, I believe you believe the car’s paid for.”

  “You just called me a deadbeat.” He looked thunderstruck, then immediately chuckled. “You’re priceless.”

  “Most people find the term—” she shrugged “—insulting. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said it.” She couldn’t believe she had said it. But she was flustered, turned on, and her deeply buried feminine side rose to the surface.

  The side of her that had made her forego her ball cap this morning. The side that encouraged her to wash, mousse and curl her hair. The side that made her put on her only set of matching bra and panties. Feeling pretty under her clothes boosted her confidence.

  No point tamping that sexual side back down either. Once that siren was released, there was no stopping her.

  In spite of her inner vixen and no matter what had happened while he was away in “parts unknown,” as reported in the tabloid, it was still her job to impound the car. After that, the lender and the debtor had to sort things out.

  “I won’t speak of this,” she offered earnestly. “Not anywhere, not to anyone. You have my word. This is between you, your bank and the dealership you bought from.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair and mussed it into peaks she wanted to smooth.

  Her fingers itched to touch his lightly bristled chin and his mussed hair, so she grabbed her gloves off the dashboard and pulled them back on. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember taking them off.

  He looked down the drive again and she tracked his gaze. A black Crossfire pulled up to the closed gates. A man’s arm reached out, punched in a code and the gates swung open. “They’re working now,” she said. But just as she’d seen this morning, after the car roared through, the gates stayed open.

  “See?” she said.

  “I see.” He stepped back to the door and used an intercom to call Rory. “Check the monitors one more time, will you, Rory?” He waited a moment, then swore.

  The Crossfire slowed to a stop and Mr. Carling, who must feel the fool, climbed out. “Nice car,” she said to Mac. “Shame they stopped building them.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “A car buff?”

  “Something like that.”

  The security chief had parked in front of Bessie and was now on his phone. She shook her head in derision. “If I have to, I’ll drive over the lawn to get around him.”

  “I bet you would.”

  “I said I’d stay and answer his questions, so it’s cool.” She faced the Morgan. “She’s beautiful. If I had her I’d give her a name.”

  “Not Bessie,” Mac said, with a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

  “Not Bessie. Something sleek and sexy to go with her glamorous lines. A classic, classy name would suit her.” If she asked nicely and explained the situation, BB might look at the paperwork again and offer to help from her end. She could yell at Morgan all she wanted afterward.

  “Althea maybe? Or Diana?”

  “Hortense,” she said.

  Mac laughed and rocked back on his heels. “How about Bella?”

  “That’s better than Hortense.”

  “Stay where you are,” the security chief commanded from behind her. She turned in surprise as he slipped his cell phone into his pocket. He’d obviously been running her plate and checking out Five Aces. A worm of fear wriggled in her belly at the idea. She never liked it when people looked past what she wanted them to see. “We’ve got questions,” he said.

  “No shit, Sherlock.” She bristled just looking at this guy. “I have the right to leave, I have the right to take this car. There’s the paperwork.” She pointed to the clipboard on the seat. “Mac’s already seen it.”

  “Mac?” The use of the more familiar name shocked him enough to stop him cold. He glared at Mac, then dropped his brows into a dark frown. “What the hell?”

  Mac was all business now, stern and uncompromising. He’d only wanted to keep her entertained until this Jack guy got back. All the steamy looks had just been a cover to forestall her taking the Morgan.

  Her ego deflated like a month-old balloon as he went to the door to close the gates. In the distance, she saw them move. “Morgan’s offered to answer our questions, Jack, so back off.”

  Jack Carling watched the gates operate from the manual switch. “They should have closed after I passed through. So that answers how she got in to take your car. And it also shows that the security problem isn’t just with the monitor or camera system.” He swore. “Mac, you’re the target of a systematic attack.”

  “Could be,” he said. Jack turned to glare at her.

  Morgan didn’t care for the way this guy sized her up and found her wanting. He even sneered at Bessie.

  “How long have you been stalking Kingston McRae?” he demanded.

  She heated with guilt. She had a crush, a silly girly crush, but stalking? “You’re out of your mind,” she snapped.

  “SHE’S NOT MY STALKER, Jack,” Mac defended her as she deserved to be defended. He swiveled his attention from the delectably shocked Morgan to his security chief. “And this is not the way to get our questions answered.” Jack must be spooked if he’d lost his cool detachment.

  Morgan’s eyes flashed indignation. “Mac’s right. I may not be some la-di-da red-carpet beauty, but I know my job. And I’m good at it.” Her voice went low and firm and her eyes shot sparks. “This car’s not paid for.” She swept her arm in an arc to showcase the Morgan, dangling from the rear of her truck. “So it’s coming with me.”

  She set her chin and narrowed her eyes. And looked to Mac like more woman than any la-di-da red-carpet beauty he’d ever seen. Her unpainted face glowed with confidence and inner strength. There was no speck of artifice in this Morgan Swann. She was the epitome of what you see is what you get and he stood back and enjoyed the sheer gutsy determination of the woman.

  But no matter how strong or determined she looked, the Morgan would not leave his property, not when it was needed for the wedding tomorrow. The woman had been prepared to be reasonable until Jack arrived.

  Faced with Morgan’s determined expression and aggressive stance, Jack actually stepped back. Her five foot three suddenly looked a lot taller. M
ac controlled a laugh because he knew exactly how the dynamo on full attack could affect a man.

  He frowned. Jack might react to Morgan the same way Mac had.

  And he didn’t like the idea. Not a bit.

  “Jack, meet Morgan Swann. Morgan’s got some great suggestions on where to start our investigation.” She’d come up with identity theft and a phoney relative scam to start. He hadn’t even mentioned the stalker and she’d offered up ideas.

  He wanted to freeze-frame Jack’s shock so he could rib him about it later.

  The expression of warmth and appreciation on Morgan’s face made his mouth water. He wanted his hands on her. He wanted his lips on her. He wanted hers on him.

  Her light green eyes rounded. “Mac? You heard my ideas?” She sounded out of breath, as if the stand-off with Jack had cost her. It probably had.

  He smiled at her, caught by the unguarded expression in her gaze. Warm, interested. Genuine. Uncomplicated.

  “Of course I thought they were viable.”

  “What the hell’s going on here?” Jack demanded.

  “Lots.” He explained about the video feeds, gave him a brief update on Morgan’s suggestions about identity theft and even her theory on an impostor posing as a relative. Jack looked nonplussed at the various ideas.

  Then he moved toward the front door. “Miss Swann, if you wouldn’t mind coming inside,” he said, his tone conciliatory, his eyes flint sharp. “You may be able to help me, uh, help Mac with these problems.” He motioned for her to enter the house.

  She turned, reached into the front seat and pulled out a denim satchel, then allowed the men to usher her inside. When Jack moved a hand to her back, she froze until he released her. She stepped through the doorway alone and proud.

  Jack glared at him as if Mac had lost his mind.

  “Wow, this is beautiful, all right,” Morgan said, cataloguing the grand foyer. “Do you mind if I freshen up?”

  Her earnest comment made him look at the place with a jaundiced eye. “Beauty isn’t always what it seems.” Cool and sterile, the house still had his mother’s stamp on it. He’d been too busy to warm it up. “There’s a guest washroom behind the stairs.” He directed Morgan to it.

  He’d never much cared for this place, but Rory was used to it and with Lindsay living here until her marriage, he’d held on to the home. But after the wedding, he’d look into selling.

  He and Rory could share a large single-level. They’d move before stairs became a nuisance for the older man.

  “You’ve lost it, my friend,” Jack said as soon as they were alone, “if you assume this woman is no threat.”

  “Read the paperwork. It looks official. Rory’s on the phone with the bank now. Our computer system’s been compromised. The monitors show the gates closed when they aren’t. Whoever this is, they mean business.” He frowned. “Morgan Swann’s too bright to expose herself this way if she wanted to do me harm.” From what he’d just seen of her, if she was ticked with him, she’d be up-front about it.

  Jack sighed. “Yeah, she’s more likely to punch you in the nose straight on than be devious.”

  “You saw that, too, huh?”

  “She’s one tough cookie. Besides, you have no connection to her. She’s got no reason to go after you this way. This is personal.” Jack dug in his pocket for his phone and started a call to his IT expert. “And you, my friend, should stop looking at her like she’s a hot fudge sundae. You can’t encourage a strange woman. Phone calls and pictures are one thing, but now we know you’ve been targeted. Until we know who and why, you’ve got to lay low.”

  He’d planned to spend the morning at his corporate head office, but an image of Morgan’s short shorts, hot leather gloves and tanned muscular legs popped into his head. “I’ll stay home today. I can find something to do.”

  “Or someone to do.” Jack leaned in to give him a low-voiced piece of advice. “Just not her, Mac. Just not her.”

  MORGAN TOOK HER TIME washing her hands in the guest washroom. She needed a few moments to regroup. The second Mac had done the unimaginable and leaned all over her in Bessie’s cab, she’d gone mushy inside. That would not do.

  When she’d switched paperwork with Joe, she’d wanted to get a look at Mac’s house, maybe catch a distant glimpse of him.

  But being accused of stalking him was off-the-charts crazy. No way could buying a few tabloids be construed as stalking. If that were true, then half of America was stalking some celebrity or other.

  But Mac had defended her on nothing more than a first impression. Warmed by the intensity of his gaze, she splashed cold water on her wrists to cool her raging pulse.

  After drying her hands, she called Joe. “Hi, it’s Morgan. I hope you haven’t been to the office yet.”

  “I’m here now.”

  She groaned. “Don’t tell BB where I am, okay?”

  “She figured it out when I turned in the car you should have picked up this morning.” He kept his voice low. “I’ve never seen that shade of furious before. She’s trying to call your cell right now, cursing you out because it’s busy.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut to help her think. There was no way she’d leave now, not for BB, not for Joe. Being in Mac’s home brought her fantasies infinitely closer to coming true.

  No man looked at a woman the way he’d looked at her without wanting sex. If she denied what she’d seen in his eyes, then she should hand in her union card to the department of femininity. No way would she leave without seeing where this visit could lead. “Sorry I got you into trouble with BB, but I can’t leave yet. There’s some stuff…” Stuff she couldn’t explain, and didn’t want him to know.

  “That’s okay,” he said. “Seeing her riled brings out—Never mind.” He chuckled. There must be stuff happening there this morning, too.

  “I’ll call her in a minute or so.” She’d make sure BB knew this was all on her, not Joe. She hung up and turned off her phone. She’d talk to BB when she was ready, and not a moment before.

  She stared at her reflection and took stock. Not bad. She was hardly dressed up fancy and her makeup was light as usual, but still, not bad. She took after her mom in the looks department. Good bones. Pretty hair that drew the eye, and the short shorts worked as a great distraction on recoveries.

  She didn’t wear them to expose herself. The purpose was to distract. Often, those few seconds were all that stood between her success and failure on a job.

  In spite of failing to get the Morgan off the property, she counted today a success.

  And if the heat in Mac’s eyes was anything to judge by, she just might get more than she came for. Desire rose as she smoothed her hair, slicked on another swipe of lip gloss and stepped back out into the grandest entrance she’d ever seen.

  Mac was sex on two legs and she was not about to deny him or herself. It might have been a while since she’d created thunder and lightning under the covers, but the way her morning was going, anything was possible.

  Anything at all.

  The murmur of male voices drew her around the staircase to join Mac and his head of security.

  She’d already told them everything she knew. Truly, there was no reason to stay beyond Mac’s and her mutual attraction. Braver than she’d ever been, she tested where she stood with Mac. “I don’t know how much help I can be,” she said as he watched her round the stairs. “I’ve already told you what I know.”

  If he agreed, or if his eyes had cooled in her absence, she’d wish him well and leave, no harm done.

  MAC WATCHED MORGAN’S brows knit into a frown and fought the urge to smooth the line with the pad of his thumb. “I’d like you to stay,” he said. Damn Jack and damn the stalker. He wanted her.

  “You have a stalker?” she asked. Her concern touched him in places left cold by most women.

  “I often do.” He shrugged. Once it had been a porn actress who wanted to make the jump to Hollywood releases and figured she could cash in on a few photo ops wit
h him, but Morgan didn’t need to hear about that. “Comes with the territory. But usually it’s just a misplaced crush. Someone gets hooked on the tabloid stories and wants to meet me.”

  “A crush?” She paled. “And this time it’s different?”

  “Seems to be.” He tilted his head toward Jack barking instructions into his phone. “We could move to the patio for a coffee and wait there for him to finish.”

  Her mouth widened in a smile that brimmed with relief, and sexual heat settled into her stance. “I’ll just check in with BB.” She dug into her satchel and pulled out a phone.

  “BB?”

  “The tracer slash office manager at Five Aces. She’ll blow her stack when she finds out I’m here—I mean, still here. I’m usually much faster with recoveries.” She hit a button, tapped her foot. “Hi, BB? Uh…you won’t believe what happened.” He heard a loud exclamation from the receiver. “Oh. You’ve seen Joe already.” She walked back the way she’d come and leaned against the wall under the stairs. She snugged the phone close to her mouth. “Yes, I’m at his home right now. Yes, inside.” Her voice went lower.

  He hoped her job was safe. He’d never felt that particular concern himself. In his world people didn’t have to worry about the next rent payment or food bill or medical expense, and it struck him that she could possibly have all those worries at once if she continued to buck the rules for him.

  People made inconveniences go away for him. People made allowances and special arrangements for him. But he couldn’t recall anyone ever making a sacrifice for him.

  Morgan Swann had put a lot on the line. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but the feelings roiled in his gut, a blend of respect, admiration and plain old desire. Toss in a twinge of humility because she was willing to put her job on the line for him, and Mac felt a serious case of like.

  He liked her. Under her gruff get-the-job-done exterior was a compassionate heart. She knew Mac was at a loss to explain the repossession orders. He needed time to get answers, and here she was, setting aside the rules on his behalf at a cost to herself.