Possessing Morgan

by Bonnie Edwards

  “How do you know so much about this rapper?” Jack demanded.

  “I read about him,” she responded softly. “I have a memory for things I read. I’m better at that than remembering what I hear, so I get my news from papers.”

  “So you read the World Courier?” Jack barked. “Maybe you’ve been caught up in all the stories about Mac?”

  She paled and opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Jack,” Mac cut in. “I told you Morgan’s not my stalker.” He hadn’t expected her to join them, but now that she was here, he saw a way for her to help. “But, Morgan, if you read tabloids, maybe you can remember details we’ve missed. Can you recall anything about Gretchen Eriksen?”

  Mac drew her into the room. Her confidence restored, she raised an eyebrow at Jack as she passed him. Mac didn’t relax until she took a seat in front of his desk.

  “Gretchen Eriksen,” Morgan said. “Tall, natural blonde, she’s been in a lot of rehabs lately.” She shrugged. “Can’t seem to stick to it, I guess.”

  Mac nodded. “That’s her.”

  “Pfft! I can’t believe you ever went out with her,” she said. Her pert nose wrinkled. “What did you see in her anyway?”

  Jack’s eyebrows rose, but he shut his mouth at a look from Mac.

  “I escorted her a couple of times as a favor to my PR guy.” Gretchen’s rapid-fire conversation and wild eyes made him suspect drug use. He’d cut her off quickly when she wanted to spend the night. Perhaps she’d felt snubbed, but since he hadn’t gone on more than a couple of photo-op dates with her, she didn’t seem a likely suspect. He said as much.

  Jack disagreed. “She’s erratic. She might be the one. I’ll check her out.”

  “Scratch Lila Markham off the list,” Mac said. “She’s recently engaged to the actor who was in that popular fantasy flick a couple months ago.” She’d moved on quickly after the flame of attraction had died. He hadn’t looked back and neither had she. When her engagement was announced he’d sent his congratulations.

  Morgan supplied Lila’s fiancé’s name and the month of the upcoming nuptials. She squirmed in her seat. “Lila’s trying to keep the details of the wedding private, but information’s leaking out. It’ll be big and flashy.” When she saw Jack watching her with consternation on his face, she eased back on her enthusiasm for reporting what she’d read. “That was, um, last Thursday’s edition.” She cleared her throat.

  Jack slanted her a wicked glance, as if she’d just confirmed his suspicions. To Mac he said, “You scratch Lila off your list. I won’t.”

  “Can you recall anything else you’ve read, Morgan?” Mac asked.

  “You dated these women in the last year. With about a month in between each one.”

  Jack glared at Mac. For Morgan to have such detailed knowledge, she must have read every story they’d planted. Mac caught her eye and held it. “You and I have to talk about the pap I’ve fed the public.”

  “Okay,” she said, “but it’s clear you’re not the man in the tabloid stories. You’re more than that. At least to me.” She blinked and gave him the sweetest smile. He thought he’d seen every expression in her arsenal, but that open look of affection nearly brought him to his knees.

  His cock twitched as their mutual look heated.

  Jack stood and broke the tension. “How much tabloid reading did you say you do?”

  Mac stepped in to deflect the question. “None of these women seem like suspects to me. Collectively they’re ambitious, and they have varying degrees of talent. Individually they’re too busy with their own careers to focus on me.”

  Jack agreed. “To compromise the security monitors would require access to the house, and none of them has been here in months.”

  “And neither have I,” Mac reminded him. “But Rory will know if there’s been a maintenance crew around in recent days.”

  Jack left to hunt Rory down and Mac moved to Morgan’s side, anxious to renegotiate the remaining time. “They’re going to be back right away and we’re down to thirty minutes.”

  She flushed and rose to kiss him. Her breasts brushed against his shirt and her nipples pebbled prettily. He slipped his arms around her and held her warm bottom.

  “I want you to stay for the day,” he said.

  “So Jack will have enough time to run a background check on me?”

  “I want to know more about you.” He put up his hand to stop her protest. “Not in the way Jack does. No matter what I say, he’s going to run his checks. I want to know you, Morgan. You intrigue me.”

  “I can’t imagine why.” She smiled, and desire started a burn as his blood rushed south.

  “We were interrupted. I’d like to make it up to you.”

  “I’d like that, too.”

  Before he could do more than kiss her, Jack returned. His edgy stance made Morgan blink. “I noticed a great soaker tub,” she said. “Mind if I indulge?”

  “I’ll take you back to the suite.”

  “No, Jack needs you. I don’t want to interfere. I’ll manage.”

  He told her where to find fresh towels and perfume for the bath and watched her go, sorry he couldn’t join her.

  “You’ve lost your frigging mind.” Jack glared at him, frustration burning. “Or your mind’s on frigging. Either way, Mac, you gotta get your head back in the game.”

  Mac had expected the blast, just not the intensity.

  Jack glanced at the door Morgan had just exited. “Why her? She’s nothing like the women you date. She wears combat boots and leather work gloves. What the hell are you thinking?”

  Mac shrugged, held up his palms. “That she’s nothing like the other women I’ve dated.” He nodded, slowly, to keep Jack from guessing that he had envisioned her, naked and wet, in his built-for-two soaker tub. “And you, my friend, do not imagine her in those boots. You don’t think about those gloves, either on or off. Get me?”

  Jack put his hands up in surrender. “Fine, you just keep your head.”

  “You’re right. I’m intrigued by Morgan, more than I’ve ever been intrigued by a woman before.” His interest would burn out, but until then, he saw no reason to condone Jack’s comments. “Now, butt out.”

  Jack’s terse nod was the only agreement he’d get. It would have to do.

  “Rory checked with the bank,” Jack said. “The payment came out of your account, but the dealership says it’s not showing at their end.”

  Mac nodded. “Then, sometime after I left for Africa, the dealership’s accounting program was hacked into and the account changed to show it unpaid.” He continued. “So their accounts would be out by the payment amount.”

  “If they left the money floating in the dealership’s system, and didn’t steal it, it’s more proof this is all about you. Hell, they could have wiped out your bank account while they were at it. This is a taunt, a warning, a game,” Jack said. His frustration tinged every word.

  “I’d like to know what the point of this game is,” Mac said. “And who hates me this much.”

  “And what’s the prize for the winner?” Jack added.

  THE PICTURE WAS ALMOST perfect now. The infant—if all went well, a girl—smiled from a bassinet. A click of the mouse and the baby’s cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. Another click and the image printed.

  She sighed. Mac would love a daughter. A little princess with oak-leaf eyes and light brown hair. Maybe some highlights. For a girl, highlights would be a must. And she’d be pretty, with even white teeth and a lovely thin body. Long limbs.

  Perfection.

  But perfection would only be achieved if he came to his senses. If he realized what he’d walked away from.

  She had a mere handful of good breeding years left. If he waited much longer, she’d run the risk of needing help to conceive. She didn’t want rounds of therapy. She’d had enough of doctors to last a lifetime. Mac had to know she would be the perfect mother and that her child by him would b
e the same.

  She smoothed her hair, checked her reflection in the mirror over the desk. Every man wanted perfection.

  Kingston McRae was no exception.

  Content with the baby’s image, she trimmed the photo then slipped it into the album. Another goal accomplished.

  Visualization, that’s what her therapist had said. Visualize and it will happen. She closed the cover, smoothed her fingers over the pretty pink satin.

  Her coffee cooled at her elbow. Hotel coffee. Not as good as the French press she’d taken to Mac’s. He’d liked it. She knew he had, although he’d never said.

  Rory probably took credit for bringing it into the house. Rory! Anger ripped through her, silent yet violent.

  She didn’t like it when her hands shook; they gave too much away. She stared at them until she controlled the tremors. She would only free the rage if she had no choice. If Mac gave her no choice.

  If he didn’t understand her warnings, further steps would have to be taken.

  Lindsay planned to use Mac’s yacht for her honeymoon. A pity to have it impounded for unpaid slip fees, but Lindsay would get over the disappointment, and the embarrassment to Mac would soon fade. Lindsay deserved the inconvenience for not maintaining their friendship.

  She should have been a bridesmaid, but Lindsay hadn’t asked. That particular disappointment had cut, but the ruined honeymoon would more than make up for it.

  No real harm done. Definitely in the forgivable realm of actions taken.

  Mac would forgive her once he saw the glory of their reunion and her plans for their life together.

  Going up against him and Jack Carling had been easier than expected. Hacking into the car dealership and her plan to ruin the honeymoon easier still.

  She opened the closet to try on her dress for the wedding tomorrow. With a new hair color and style and lifts in her shoes, he wouldn’t recognize her. In the morning, she’d complete her disguise by adding width to her nose and drawing in slightly heavier brows. She missed her hair extensions but the new cut was radically different. All in all, an asset.

  She’d make certain he saw her from a distance. She’d dance with every other man there. Yes, Mac would look, but not touch. She would be unapproachable, out of bounds, and Mac would respond.

  She refused to fawn over him. Always had.

  She’d follow up with a brief personal visit to his estate. A few days after the wedding seemed appropriate. Mac would be thinking fondly of family and commitment.

  And he would find those things with her. Or there would be regrettable consequences. Most regrettable.

  The red satin complemented her pale skin and brought color to her face. Quite natural, she thought, considering she was usually a redhead.

  AFTER HER BATH, Morgan dressed and stepped out into the hall. Mac was in the foyer below. He looked up at her, his face breathtakingly handsome and alight with male interest. A stab of regret reminded her that her fantasy was over. “I’m ready to go. And just under the two-hour limit, too. Not bad.” She kept her tone breezy, refusing to let him see her falter.

  “Join me on the patio for lunch. Jack called BB and she’s not expecting you back.”

  She halted five steps from the bottom. “Really? She gave us more time?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll have to explain this—it’s hard to believe. BB’s a stickler.”

  When they headed out to the patio and she took a seat, he said, “I think Jack’s willing to stop looking at you as if you’re a walking detonator.”

  “I doubt I’ve completely passed muster, though. He probably assumes I’m a gold digger, or worse.” She couldn’t blame him considering the odd way they’d all met.

  “After talking to Jack, your BB called the dealership and they’ve agreed to give us the weekend to sort through our security breaches. I gave them a substantial deposit pending the outcome of the investigation, of course.”

  The tabloids would have a field day if they caught wind of a recovery on the estate. Kingston McRae in financial trouble? They’d gobble the story up and spit him out on the sidewalk without a care for the truth.

  “So that’s why BB eased off.” That, and BB had a way of getting to the bottom of things. “I’m glad you’ll have the Morgan for the wedding. How many breaches have you had? Maybe Jack’s right to be concerned for your safety.”

  He counted off on his fingers. “The monitors, the gates, the car payment. And a couple of other odd things that Jack considers warnings.”

  “This seems like an insider to me. Someone knows passwords, account numbers and security codes.” A shiver ran down her spine. Someone close to Mac, someone who knew the real man, had done these things. But to what end?

  As head of Mac’s security, Jack had to put Morgan’s presence in the liability column. “It’s no wonder Jack’s suspicious of me, but I think he should be looking closer to home.” Mac had told her Lindsay was like a sister to him, but she hadn’t met her yet. “I guess Lindsay’s busy with last-minute wedding details?”

  “Since six this morning. She’s run off her feet.”

  “Any of her girlfriends develop crushes on you?” At the word “crushes” she felt a wave of heat in her face. But her crush had been impossibly distant. A friend of Lindsay’s might have had higher hopes.

  He shook his head. “Lindsay’s been careful in her friendships, and with her busy schedule, it’s been years since the house was invaded by girls.” He shuddered. “But in her teens, she was as exuberant as any other teenager. Nothing serious, but Rory tore his hair out on occasion.”

  His affection for Rory and Lindsay was clear and she envied the easiness of their relationship. She and her mother were often prickly with each other. Morgan’s teens had been much worse than prickly.

  “As far as the monitors go, Rory was bamboozled into allowing an employee onto the grounds to check the system. The security company we use was sold last year. They swear they advised their clients by letter, but Rory never received one. He checked.”

  “Was the letter stolen?”

  He shrugged. “Could have been. The mailbox is outside the gate. Whoever this is planned ahead.”

  “You haven’t said much about your parents.” They were still alive. She’d never read anything about their deaths. “Could this be directed at them?”

  “They live as far apart as they can, although they both see this place as the family home. They visit but never at the same time.”

  From what she recalled, they had divorced quite civilly years ago. Old money was like that, she figured, unwilling to air their dirty linen or expose their reputations to ridicule. Unlike Elizabeth, who always made a lot of noise when it came to divorce. The squeaky wheel syndrome. The more she squeaked about private things, the more likely she was to be paid to go away quietly.

  Rory stepped out onto the patio to tell Mac there was a call for him. He excused himself and Morgan called BB to check in.

  “Morgan, what’s going on?” her friend demanded. Her voice was low and heated. “And have you lost your mind?”

  “Apparently, I have,” she said, considering that in the last eighteen hours she’d behaved in ways she never had before—completely off the charts.

  Which BB was spending considerable time ragging her about. “And who’s this Jack Carling? He called here to question me.”

  Which launched another string of questions and answers. Morgan didn’t mind. BB needed to know what had happened so she could report to her uncle.

  But it seemed Jack’s calls had been relentless as he’d tracked down leads, starting with Five Aces. “I have to give the guy credit. He’s good and knows how to get information from people without them realizing.” Morgan heard a grudging respect for the security head in BB’s voice. “What’s he look like?”

  Morgan chuckled. “Jack’s a silver fox. Prematurely gray, which on him is pretty damn hot. He’s got great shoulders. And is only an inch shorter than Mac.” Maybe she should think of hi
m as a silver wolf. “Also, he’s protective of Mac. They go back a long way.”

  “Speaking of Mac, what’s happening with him? And you?”

  She heated at the question. “It’s crazy, but I think he likes me.” Filling BB in on everything but the rocket-blazing sex went quickly.

  “You be careful, Morgan. These things have a way of burning out faster than you think they will. The stronger the blaze the faster the end comes.”

  She closed her eyes and pressed the phone tighter to her ear. “I know, BB. I’m being careful, but this is like the wildest dream come true.” But her decision to keep it real had helped ground her.

  “Keep your head on straight.” There was a long pause and Morgan waited for a lecture. But in the end, BB just clicked her tongue as if there was nothing to be gained by saying more. “Call me when you leave. I want to know all the details. There’s a lot you haven’t said.” She sighed. “I told you something weird would happen there. I knew it!”

  “This is weird, but in a good way. Honest.” She saw Rory open the slider. “Lunch is on the way, I’ve got to go.” They said goodbye and she turned off her phone, setting it on the table.

  Rory must be feeling the stress. He wasn’t a young man. Instead of the tuxedo, he’d slipped into comfortable cords, a polo shirt and loafers. She jumped up to close the slider behind him. Taking the tray when he had it gripped firmly in both hands would be tricky, especially with the uneven flagstones. “Watch your step here, Rory.”

  He slanted her an amused glance. “I’m not senile, or unsteady on my feet, Morgan. This stone’s been uneven for twenty years. I’d fall on my face if it ever got fixed!”

  His humor helped her relax. He wasn’t as stuffy as he’d first seemed in his tuxedo. In fact he was friendly and had a twinkle in his eye that hinted he’d once been a Romeo. She liked him, and oddly enough, he seemed to have taken to her, too.

  A warmth traveled down her spine as Mac settled both hands on her shoulder and started a light massage. “Where did you come from?” she asked, startled.

  “The den’s beside the kitchen. Every room on this floor has a door out here.”