Possessing Morgan

by Bonnie Edwards

  “Leaving is one thing, but sneaking out without a word is another. I don’t have your phone number!”

  Her belly dropped. Her throat closed around a gulp. “You want my number?”

  A slow, lazy grin settled on his mouth. “I want your number. But I’d much rather you give it to me than make me ask Jack to get it. I need to know you want me to have it, Morgan.”

  WHEN MAC HAD HEARD the unmistakable sound of Bessie’s rock and roll down the drive, he’d leaped out of bed and pressed his face to the window. All he’d seen was the back end of the creaking tow truck. Morgan had slipped out of his bed, and his life, without waking him, without so much as a goodbye.

  He’d pulled on last night’s slacks without underwear, socks, or a shirt. No shoes, either. Now he balanced the heavy bike on his toes, while he kept his feet away from the heat of the engine.

  “Of course I want your number,” he snapped. He reached into the cab of the truck and slid his fingertips down her cheek. “Spend today with me. Come to the wedding with me.” The invitation came out of his mouth before he could stop it. But the moment it was there, in the air, it felt right. Everything about her felt right.

  She flinched at the invitation, as if he’d said something to wound her.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She shifted her slim shoulders and her gaze softened. “Mac. What we had, I’ll never forget, but I like you more than is good for me.” She laughed. “And don’t you have enough on your plate without me getting clingy and needy?”

  “You? Clingy? I doubt it.” Had she just flexed her thighs in memory? The idea made him hotter than hot, and the burn through him had nothing to do with the engine between his knees.

  “Here’s the thing,” he began again, “I like you, too. We make sparks when we touch and I want to explore where this could go.” Bessie’s diesel clicked and rumbled and then it hit him. “Why should we forget about each other just because you drive Bessie and I…don’t.”

  She assessed him, clearly waiting for her bullshit meter to kick in. She opened her mouth, her eyes mutinous, so he spoke before she could refuse him. “It’s Lindsay’s wedding day, Morgan. I’m dateless. Take pity.” He put on his best, most reasonable expression.

  Her face crumpled as she burst into laughter. “You’re such a fraud, Mac. You’ve never gone to any social event without a date.”

  “This is a family affair, not a social event.” But her point had hit home. If he took her as his date, there could be speculation about who she was. She’d be a tabloid target. “If you drove the wedding party in the Morgan, no one would know who you are. What could one weekend hurt? If you never want to see me again after tonight, I promise I’ll understand. This is a gift we can give ourselves. A slice out of our normal lives.”

  Her gaze slid from his head, lingered on his chest, then settled on his feet. A peeled apple under her gaze, he felt stripped of all that covered his flesh.

  “Won’t you burn your feet?” Her tone was husky.

  He wanted her so much he could taste her.

  “Not if I get home right away, but there’s no time to waste.” The neighborhood was waking up as they spoke. Cars pulled through the intersection, drivers curiously checking out the half-naked biker and the tow truck.

  She noticed the gawkers. “I’ll follow you.”

  Back at the house, the wedding dress designer had already arrived. Bessie rumbled in behind him and Morgan parked beside the garage.

  The designer and her assistant gave him a nod and slanted Morgan a curious glance when she climbed out of her truck. Morgan ignored the stares. The assistant carried a long garment bag held high in her arms while the designer lugged heavy satchels. The bridal gown and supplies. That meant the hustle and bustle of the day had begun.

  “No back to bed for us,” Morgan grumbled when she reached his side.

  “We’ll have tonight,” he said, but she had already walked over to check out the Morgan’s interior. She gave a low appreciative whistle. “You’ll take Lindsay, Rory and me to the church, then drive the bride and groom to the reception, then on to the marina afterward so they can board the yacht for their honeymoon.”

  “You’re serious? You’ll let me drive this baby?” Her eyes shimmered. “You’d trust me with—”

  “Why not? You’ve probably driven more vehicles than I have.”

  She pursed her lips. “Probably.”

  “This makes perfect sense.” He’d hoped to be the first to street drive the Morgan, but it was a small sacrifice to have her with him for another day. “Lindsay thinks use of The Glass Slipper for their honeymoon is my wedding gift, so I need you to back me up when you meet her.”

  “The Glass Slipper is your yacht?” She rolled her eyes.

  At his nod, she counted off on her fingers. “The church, the reception, then the marina and back here.”

  “Round trip about twenty miles or so. But you’ve got to vouch for me when I present her with the car. Just help me keep her moving. We can’t give her time to think. She’s independent to a fault. Once she sits inside this baby, she’ll accept that it’s a done deal.” There were a couple years when she first came to live with her granddad when every move had to be approved by a doctor or therapist. Lindsay had learned early to be a fighter.

  “No problem,” Morgan said. “I’ve had a lot of experience with brides. I’ll get her into the car.” She smoothed her shorts and tugged at the bottom of her T-shirt. “But what will I wear?”

  “I’ll get Rory on it.”

  She was such a study in beauty. Perfect brows, luscious lips and a lovely jaw. Her ears were gracefully carved, he recalled, with delicious lobes. He tugged her into his arms and planted a light kiss on her lips. She responded immediately and rose to her toes, pressing close. Her neck smelled womanly and warm and made him crazy.

  She made him crazy. Her tongue slipped shyly into his mouth, as if they hadn’t spent the night locked together, as if this was their first tasting. She rocked him to his core.

  Jack thought he was certifiable to let a strange woman into his life right now. Under the circumstances he should probably agree, but he wanted Morgan Swann again. Right now, if she’d have him. The soft moan from deep in her throat gave him the answer he craved.

  He tore his mouth away from hers before he took her hard and fast the way he had in the den. “We’ll find you clothes to wear.” He barely got the words out. “Then later, I’ll take them off you.”

  Rory appeared in the open front door. “There you are.” He cleared his throat and gave a Mac a pointed glance. “No time to dress?”

  “Change in plans, Rory. We need a black suit for Morgan. She’s driving today.”

  “I have just the thing,” Rory said without batting an eye. “When I broke my foot two years ago, we had that young fellow drive while I recuperated. He wasn’t much taller than Miss Swann.”

  “Perfect,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “And it’s Morgan.”

  Mac chuckled. “I can’t tell if it’s driving the Morgan that’s got you so happy or spending more time with me.”

  “My mother taught me to keep a man guessing.”

  Rory grinned at her as he walked to the dress designer’s car. He pulled out a couple of cases. “I’m sure the designer will lend her assistant for a nip and tuck for Morgan.” The gleam in his eye said he’d sized up the situation to a tee.

  Sometimes Rory was a pain in the neck.

  MAC HAD MORGAN JUST where he wanted her, getting pinned and basted into the spare chauffeur’s uniform. The assistant stitched fresh seams into the jacket. When she knelt to check the hem of the pants, she clucked at Morgan’s work boots. “You’re kidding, right? These are, um…”

  Morgan sighed. She didn’t have suitable shoes at home, either. “What size does the bride wear?”

  “She’s close enough to your size,” the assistant replied. “A pair of hers might work.” She looked frazzled by the delay.

  “I’ll s
ee what I can do.” Morgan headed out and found Rory downstairs, accepting a flower delivery. He directed her to Lindsay’s room in their personal quarters.

  She tapped lightly and entered at Lindsay’s surprised hello. She was a soft blonde with a glowing beauty. Her dress was unwrapped and ready and her face shone with joy. She stepped toward Morgan with a breathtaking smile. “Hi! You must be Morgan. Granddad told me you’re driving us to the church.”

  Her eyes said Rory had told her much more, but Mac appeared right behind Morgan, putting an end to any questions Lindsay might have asked.

  Mac took charge of the introductions. One glance at Morgan’s socks and he said, “Linds, do you have a pair of black loafers Morgan can borrow?”

  “I’m a six and a half, but sometimes—”

  “I’m a seven,” Lindsay said and hurried to her closet. She knelt awkwardly on the floor, waving away Mac’s offer to assist. “Voilà!” She turned with a broad smile and held up a pair of heavy black loafers. “Will these be okay? They’ll add an inch because the soles are thick.”

  Morgan slipped her feet into the shoes. “They’ll do. My socks take up a lot of room.”

  “Are the woolly socks okay?” Mac asked with a smirk. The veiled reference to how much he liked her socks shot an arrow of desire through her. The man was incorrigible.

  Lindsay and Morgan shared a look, rolled their eyes and made shooing motions with their hands. Mac retreated with a wide grin.

  “So, you’re a new friend of Mac’s?” Lindsay asked.

  “I’m just your driver,” Morgan assured her. “I don’t expect to see today.” Lindsay’s honeymoon would likely last longer than her Mac-induced fever.

  Lindsay sized her up with frank assessment and her eyes turned shrewd. “That’s too bad, because he loosens up when he talks about you. That’s unusual.”

  “Oh.” She couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice and Lindsay winked. In that moment she looked a lot like her grandfather.

  “I hope you’re here when I get back from my honeymoon, Morgan.” The dress designer clicked her tongue and Lindsay took the hint.

  “That’s nice of you to say,” Morgan told her, then escaped.

  Once the pants were hemmed, Morgan slipped out of the house in her uniform to check out the car. The Morgan was a spectacular machine.

  In a deep, British-racing-car green, it looked like something out of a thirties movie. Round headlamps and sweeping fenders narrowed to actual running boards, giving the car a distinctive look. A deep, emerald-green convertible top finished the package. The car was a roaring beauty.

  She bent down beside the driver’s door and took a long look inside. When she’d been working with the Morgan before, it had been all business.

  This gawking was pure appreciation.

  MAC LEFT LINDSAY AND Morgan. Seeing them together, so easily in tune, brought a smile to his lips.

  His cell vibrated in his pocket. It was Jack. “What have you got?”

  “Our IT guys say the cracker was bouncing all over the Net. He edited all the logs of the ISPs he used. No way to say when we’ll track him.”

  “Cracker?”

  “Criminal hacker. This bastard knows what he’s doing.”

  “If he’s this skilled, then it’s likely to be a crime ring—which means it’s not personal.” Relief seeped through his bones. He could go into the office, get back to his mentorship program. Have his private life stay that way.

  “Not so fast. The airport photos and the security monitors make this about you specifically. This cracker is a weapon aimed directly at you.”

  “So stop him.”

  “You ready to let me bring in some men for the wedding?”

  He closed his eyes and imagined Lindsay and Rory, dressed and excited. With Morgan disguised as a chauffeur, no one would know her connection to him. “The wedding guest list is fewer than fifty people. An intimate party of friends and family. I won’t have a date, so this is not a photo op. There will be no media coverage. Security personnel will create a stir we may not be able to contain. I won’t have them here.” He disconnected because Lindsay stepped out onto the driveway, all grown up and ready to be a wife.

  Mac’s eyes stung at the sight. Rory proffered his arm and escorted her to the car, where Morgan held the door open.

  “She’s so lovely.” Morgan sighed as Mac went to join her. “As many times as my mother’s been married, I love seeing a bride.”

  While pretty, Lindsay wouldn’t turn heads in a crowd, but she had a smile that drew a person in and warmed them through. Her smile was directed full on at Morgan and Mac, and her eyes gleamed with joy.

  Mac didn’t want to crush the dress, but Lindsay would have none of his standoffishness. She clasped him to her and blinked up into his face. “This is it, Mac. Do I look okay?”

  “You are perfection, pure perfection. I hope Greg understands how lucky he is.”

  Rory said a quiet, “Hear, hear.”

  “He does,” she promised.

  “I want to give you your wedding gift, Linds.”

  “No! Mac, just no. There’s nothing you could give me that you haven’t already.” She squeezed her grandfather’s hand. “A home, a life.”

  His heart swelled as he opened one arm to encompass the car. “She’s yours. Yours and Greg’s, Linds. Enjoy her.”

  A full five minutes of arguments and soft-voiced threats followed, but in the end when Morgan pointed out they’d be late for the church, she gave in.

  Lindsay settled in the Morgan’s rear seat. She must be tired, but the glow on her face was pure joy.

  Morgan helped gather the skirt of her gown for her, then waited while Mac settled into the front passenger seat. Rory sat behind Morgan and held his granddaughter’s hand.

  “I’ve never seen a more lovely bride,” Morgan said. “It’s an honor to drive you.”

  “I’m so nervous of stumbling. I hope I can manage all right in these shoes.”

  “Just look at the groom’s face,” Morgan suggested. “And you’ll glide up the aisle.”

  Lindsay’s face broke into a happy grin. “You’re right! I feel better. Thank you, Morgan, you’re very sweet.”

  “I’ve got lots of experience with weddings.” Morgan winked at Mac and shared a heated look that promised heaven later.

  “So how did you two meet, Morgan?” Lindsay asked. “Mac didn’t say. Apparently, he’s kept a lot of secrets lately.” She leaned forward and flicked Mac’s ear.

  “Ow! Is this how you treat the men in your life?”

  “Only the ones who are more trouble than they’re worth,” she teased him while Morgan started the car.

  “It’s a good thing I only ended up with one sister,” he shot back. “I couldn’t put up with another one like you.”

  In her excitement, she didn’t notice that neither he nor Morgan had answered her question on how they’d met.

  THREE HOURS LATER, Morgan settled into a chair in the outer hallway at the reception. She was the only uniformed driver, so she wasn’t sure if she should be here, but Mac had insisted. He’d visited her a couple times, brought out a plate of finger foods and a bottle of imported water and even stolen a kiss.

  Thankfully, her secret crush had been destroyed for what it was, a childish fairy-tale dream. Unfortunately, it had been replaced by a woman’s infatuation. She was infatuated with a caring, intelligent, sexy man who liked her. She understood what she was dealing with and she’d be smart to get away as soon as she could.

  Morgan could never compete with women who were on a first-name basis with their haute couture designers and Hollywood hair stylists. Hell, she didn’t take spin classes or yoga or whatever was in with the rich and famous today.

  She looked at her hands. She should have those sexy French nails made of gel or silk or acrylic instead of her work-length, sturdy fingernails. She buffed them once in a blue moon, mostly because BB dragged her over for a makeup session.

  The thrill of dr
iving the Morgan had reminded her of some of the other high-powered exotic cars she’d driven. This time it was refreshing to have the owner’s permission. The wry thought reminded her of the differences in her life and Mac’s. He’d gone joyriding in his dad’s car while she’d ripped off vehicles and delivered them to chop shops.

  He lived in the stratosphere of society, while she was grounded in the reality of a downtown neighborhood that had seen better days.

  Yes, time would deal with their mutual infatuation and neither she nor Mac would be hurt when it was over.

  Yeah, right.

  8

  MAC WATCHED LINDSAY as she enjoyed the best day of her life. In a waltz with her new husband, she glowed with love and pride. Greg was a lucky man and showed that he knew it with attentive glances and loving touches. Rory blinked away a sheen of happy tears every few minutes. He tapped the groom’s shoulder to cut in and swept Lindsay into his arms.

  “You look happier than I’ve seen you in ages,” Lindsay commented.

  “You haven’t seen me in months. I was in Africa, remember?”

  “Before you left you were on edge. I don’t see that now. Is it such a relief to be rid of me?” She was teasing him, the way she always did when she wanted information out of him. If she turned the issue on herself, he’d rush to tell her about everything else in his life.

  This was her way of asking about Morgan. Unfortunately he didn’t have any answers for her. He kissed the tip of her nose. “If you want the unvarnished truth, I’m jealous.”

  She tilted her head. “Of what?”

  “What you and Greg have.” He turned the tables and asked his own questions. “How did you get here? What path did you both follow to end up choosing each other?”

  She blew out a breath and closed her eyes for a long moment. When she opened them again, they were moist. “I never expected to find a man like Greg. He’s athletic, and so competitive I didn’t think he’d look at a woman like me. I can’t keep up with him physically and I—”