Possessing Morgan

by Bonnie Edwards

  He dipped her to cut her off. “Shush. Not all men want physical perfection, Linds. Smart men look for more than that. And a smart man recognizes the right woman as soon as she shows up.”

  She chuckled. “Greg says he knew right away.”

  “See? He’s a smart man.” The man in question tapped his shoulder, wanting his bride back.

  Mac handed her over, and let her go at the same time. She wasn’t a frightened eleven-year-old girl anymore. She didn’t need his home or his support—hadn’t for a couple of years now. She could stand on her own physically and emotionally.

  With her new husband at her side, Lindsay could take on the world and win. She’d changed into a powerhouse of a woman right under his nose. She had strength, confidence, the ability to think quickly and turn a blind eye to obstacles. He recognized the same qualities in Morgan.

  Morgan.

  She waited in the hall, dressed in a borrowed suit and shoes, looking like a million bucks. He grinned and wondered what she’d say if he told her how sexy she looked in a black fitted jacket, her wavy hair contained in a tight bun.

  He wanted her here, dancing with him. He wanted to show her off, plain and simple.

  But tonight wasn’t the night. He couldn’t bring attention to her yet. Before he could bring Morgan out from behind closed doors, he had to let Jack get to the bottom of this stalker business.

  He couldn’t recall the last time a woman of his choosing had been on his arm in public. A sad state of affairs.

  Morgan was cool. Interesting. Fun. And he liked her.

  He’d enjoy her company while he had the chance. Soon enough he’d settle back into a work routine. Jack would find the stalker and put an end to that nuisance. With a little luck, Mac would find the full-out commitment he witnessed between Lindsay and Greg.

  He wanted what they had. It might be the wedding atmosphere, the best wishes flying high, the hopeful future they shared, but hell, he was thirty-four and it was past time to settle into a permanent relationship.

  Once this stalker threat was neutralized, he’d work on finding the real thing. If he hadn’t already. An image of Morgan came to mind and suddenly the few minutes of conversation they’d had weren’t enough.

  All he wanted was to get out of the party atmosphere and take her somewhere quiet. Acquaintances hailed him. He nodded back, firmed his lips as if he had somewhere important to be. Which was true. At this moment there was no more important place to be than with Morgan. He kept his expression focused and hoped no one would expect him to stop or chat.

  Tables were being cleared while the quartet Rory had hired moved from the waltz to a faster number. People headed for the dance floor, blocking his efforts to move toward the exit. He aimed for the outer wall to skirt the crowd.

  A server, loaded down with a full tray of dirty dishes, suddenly swung in front of him. He sidestepped to make his way around. At the near collision, the man glanced his way. “Sorry!”

  “No problem,” Mac responded.

  “Hey, you’re—”

  “No, I just look like him,” he said and moved on. He couldn’t wait to see Morgan, all lush and pretty, her green eyes full of the joy of the day. He’d wanted to hold her hand on the way here, but she’d shifted gears constantly.

  Lindsay liked her. In spite of the rush this morning, Lindsay had dropped what she had to do to find a pair of shoes for Morgan. A roll of the eyes, the kind of silent communication women were so good at, and he’d been banished.

  He pulled open the door to the hall and stepped out, leaving the party sounds behind. Blessed quiet.

  SHE KEPT TO HER PLAN of being seen but not noticed. Not that it mattered. Mac had barely glanced her way. He was clearly distracted. Business concerns most likely. He was a dedicated man when it came to those businesses he helped. Why he wasted his time was beyond her. She’d never grasped the concept of anonymous philanthropy. Why wouldn’t he want to be lauded for helping the poor?

  She chatted with another guest, while Mac made for the exit to the hall. A near collision with a server proved his distraction. Normally, Mac moved with the grace of a dancer.

  “It’s odd that a chauffeur drove to the wedding,” she said to the woman seated next to her. “It’s such a small affair. One would assume Mac would drive Lindsay to the ceremony.”

  “You’d think, except the chauffeur is a lovely young woman—Mac’s slipped out to see her a couple of times. I saw him with her when I went to the ladies’ room.”

  The rest of the babble floated above her while cold rage coursed through her veins, numbing her fingers. The wine sloshed in her glass, dribbling down the outside of the flute.

  No wonder he hadn’t bothered inviting a date. He was hiding one. Typical Mac. Public dates were for photo ops, and since this was such a nothing event, he hadn’t bothered inviting anyone with whom he wanted to be seen.

  She set down her wine flute, and with an apologetic smile to her table mate, set out after Mac.

  What she saw when she cracked open the door to the hall put her on edge. Mac was staring at the chauffeur as if he wanted to devour her. A redhead!

  Once, she’d been the object of that desire. Mac had looked at her that way. She wanted that again.

  Would have it again.

  She ground her teeth to keep from flinging the door open. The prize was much bigger than a moment’s wounded pride, and tipping her hand went against all her plans.

  Instead of storming the hallway, she wedged the very pointed toe of her stiletto between the door and the frame so she could watch him and his whore. This time, she didn’t bother trying to still the tremors in her hands.

  MAC TOOK IN THE SIGHT of Morgan, all prim in her high-necked uniform. Her subdued hair looked more red than it had outside. A visceral punch of desire hit low and fast.

  She lifted her gaze at his soft greeting, her eyes alight.

  She liked him. She was happy to see him. She wanted him.

  All those messages rolled down the sixty-foot hall and barreled into his chest.

  “I’m glad you stayed and didn’t go out to the car.” If anyone else saw her expression, they’d guess immediately she was more than a chauffeur. God, he wanted her, here, now.

  Right now.

  She stood, eagerly holding his gaze. “Is that what real chauffeurs do?” she asked while her eyes begged for his touch.

  To a man used to women who wanted everything but him, she was beyond believable.

  Infinitely desirable.

  He took her hand and pulled her into the dark coat check booth. The swinging door swished closed while he held her still for a deep kiss. His tongue searched hers, his hips strained close, while she cupped his ass and held him tight. Soft! Her lips were soft and warm, her center softer still as he pressed his hard length against her. If she’d worn a skirt he’d be inside her already. As it was, he tugged at the waistband of her slacks.

  “Mac, we can’t—not here.” Hope glazed her voice in sexual need and he wanted to howl.

  “Yes, we can.” He eased her slacks halfway down her hips so his hand could fit between her thighs. She was already wet.

  “Yes! Crazy, but yes.” Her breathy whisper drove him higher.

  But his need came wrapped in vulnerability and startled him. He didn’t like it, but there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it, especially not with his arms full of this particular willing woman.

  He walked her backward toward the wall. Her head barely cleared the rod, setting the empty hangers into a jangling racket. A shiver slid down his neck as he listened for any sound from the hallway. A feeling of being watched made him stop and raise his head to listen.

  But Morgan pulled him back to her with another searing kiss. She slid her palms to his lapels and hung on, while she settled against the back wall of the booth. Her jacket fell off and he made short work of the buttons on her crisp white shirt. Her glorious breasts spilled into his hands when he lowered the cups of her bra. He tasted one, then th
e other, sucking them deeply. She sighed and held his head in place. As if he needed help.

  She slipped her fingers into his open zipper and squeezed his hottest flesh. When she palmed his sac, his balls tightened in hot need.

  He dived into her mouth time and again, kissing her whenever she went to speak. Ready to break all control, he tilted his forehead to hers. “Let me, Morgan. Let me take you there.”

  Her answer was simple.

  She widened her stance, allowing his hand enough room to fully cup her wet need. Her breath went as ragged as his, her hair mussed. Telltale marks on her creamy skin showed where he’d nipped her the night before.

  He kissed each one while his finger entered her and pressed deep inside. “I’m sorry I left my mark.”

  He loved that with him she was soft and yielding, because he didn’t want to be in this alone. Vulnerable was a bad place to be on your own. He needed to brand her, to make her his. His mouth on her neck had made her crazy last night, and did again now. She licked her palm to get it wet then reached for his cock again and stroked him faster and faster while she squirmed on the edge of climax.

  “Please, Mac,” she said on a shaky breath. He pushed deep into her.

  She offered her lips and he took them again and again, unable to see anything but Morgan. She tasted of impatience and a need that matched his own.

  She moaned as his thumb massaged her clit. Her head rolled back, exposing more of her creamy flesh. The feel of her wet and needy beneath his hand while she stroked him took him past control.

  Doubly aroused, they stroked and rubbed and kissed each other into oblivion. When she came, he held her mouth with his, her sighs and moans for his ears alone. Her thighs convulsed around his hand as moisture coated her sensitive flesh.

  A dark possession came over him as her scent rose and her fingers tightened, taking him beyond arousal and into release.

  This time she was the one to receive his groans as she stroked and held him tight. He emptied into her hand, ready to fall at her feet.

  “Stay with me, Morgan. For as long as you can.” He pressed against her most sensitive flesh. “Please.”

  “Uh…” She sighed against his mouth, let him taste the desire on her tongue. “You cheat. I…” She sucked in a breath, suspended while he held her. He rubbed a finger against her hottest need while her shuddering release eased away. “You make me all kinds of stupid, Mac.”

  “Stupid. Yes, me, too.”

  He moved in for another kiss, but before he could get more than a taste of her, sounds from the hallway filtered through the closed door. He hated to stop but he had no choice. “Sorry, I have to make an appearance.”

  “We shouldn’t have come in here,” she admonished, but her eyes were full of mischief.

  “Like hell. I needed this.” Like a teenager, he wanted her to be as crazy for him as he was for her.

  She stood on her tiptoes and whispered against his ear, “So did I.”

  A murmur of voices filtered into the coat check. Feet shuffled in the carpeted hallway and the sound pulled them apart. He would never forget the look in her eyes, the flush of loving that made her so beautiful she took his breath.

  She worked her buttons back into place. Then tucked in her shirt. He got busy and tidied himself as best he could.

  He tilted her chin up with a fingertip. “Tonight, Morgan. I promise we’ll go slow and gentle.” His voice came out a hoarse whisper.

  Hers was throaty. “I loved this. Loved the fast and hard and quick and dirty. I’ve never done anything so wild.”

  He chuckled and wondered what the World Courier would make of the playboy who could truthfully say the same thing.

  “Follow my lead.” He smoothed his hair with one hand while he opened the door and joined the guests in the hall.

  Morgan slipped out behind him, her lipstick smeared off and her lips puffy. He’d give anything to acknowledge her place with him here, among friends and family. She might be surprised at his turn of mind because Morgan didn’t believe she belonged.

  The server Mac had sidestepped earlier stood in a corner. He slipped something into his pocket while he looked from Mac to Morgan. Just before he headed back into the dining hall, he gave Mac a lascivious wink. Mac frowned and wanted to follow the guy, but Lindsay approached to tell him she and Greg were ready to leave.

  Only a handful of guests planned to follow the happy couple to the marina to see them off. Rory and Mac caught a ride with one of Lindsay’s cousins whom Mac had met many times. Settled in the backseat, he checked his voice mail and found several messages from Jack. He hated to be drawn back into the hustle of the wedding and this stalker business after being with Morgan.

  He made polite excuses to the cousins and called Jack.

  “Tell me you’ve found answers.” He kept his voice low, but even with friends and family, he was wary of leaks from “informed sources.”

  “I’ve had a call from Captain Redding. He and his crew are on the dock. The Glass Slipper’s been impounded for unpaid slip fees.”

  “That’s impossible.” He fought to keep his voice down. “Slip fees are just rent. Of course they’ve been paid.”

  “People are walking away from debt, trying to sell boats or defaulting on their fees.” Of course, being the ultimate toy, a boat was one of the first luxuries people tried to unload. Problem was, no one else was buying. “This is someone who knew we wanted to use The Glass Slipper. If they could hack into a car dealership’s system, then the marina would be easy pickings.” This should help narrow the field of suspects. He told Jack that the groom had kept a tight lid on their honeymoon plans.

  Rory got the chat to flow while Mac sat in a stew of outrage. His stomach churned with a combination of helplessness and the need for revenge. When he found out who was doing this, he’d destroy him.

  “OH, HONEY, I’M SORRY. I guess I’ve been so rattled with the wedding that I forgot the yacht’s in for maintenance.” Rory shook his head and looked confused and contrite at the admission.

  Lindsay hugged him. “It’s all right, Granddad, really. Greg and I will go to a hotel instead.”

  Greg had already herded the guests back to the parking lot. Thankfully, not many had come along.

  Rory’s skill at prevarication impressed the hell out of Mac. It was a great show, but when Lindsay looked concerned enough to want to put off her honeymoon, Mac leaned in to Rory. “Let’s not overdo it.”

  Then he turned to Lindsay and winked. “We’ll explain all this when you get back. Your granddad’s as sharp as ever. I’ve got a situation, that’s all. I’ll call a friend to borrow another vessel. No problem. He owes me a favor.”

  After a long, steady stare into his eyes, and then into Rory’s, Lindsay agreed to use his friend’s yacht. “Morgan, please keep in touch.” The women hugged and Lindsay whispered something Mac couldn’t catch.

  Morgan went pink and nodded. “If you think so,” she said quietly.

  THREE HOURS LATER, Morgan had given Mac the driver’s seat and they were on their way back to the estate.

  She clasped his hand in her lap, gave it a gentle squeeze. His driving style was lazier than hers. He got into fourth gear and kept it there for as long as possible. She resisted the urge to tell him to downshift. “Still no idea who might want to mess with you this way?”

  “No.” He shrugged. “I’ve racked my brain, but this is so personal it’s hard to figure. I keep going back to business connections and come up empty. This person has details of my life that only someone relatively close to me would have. But how could a friend or associate be this off the wall without me noticing?”

  “They hid it well. Don’t blame yourself for being a target.” She gave in to her urge. “You could be in third gear here.”

  He grinned, then downshifted. “Yes, dear.”

  “See that you pay attention from now on,” she teased. “A car like this likes to be driven.” She hoped she sounded prim.

  He laughed.
“You’re priceless.”

  She looked out the passenger window, absurdly pleased.

  “I agree with Morgan,” Rory said from the backseat. “If it’s not personal, it must be business. Perhaps from years past.”

  Mac glanced in the rearview at Rory, then at her. “I retired quietly from aggressive business a couple of years ago. I still sit on a few boards. Do some charitable work. But these days I mentor neighborhood businesses. None of them would attack me this way.”

  “You retired quietly?” she asked. She hadn’t read anything of the sort in the Courier. He’d been brilliant at keeping his real life out of the spotlight. The red-carpet beauties had been camouflage, nothing more. Which gave her pause.

  Then cheered her up.

  “Once I started to mentor entrepreneurs I enjoyed it so much, I kept with it.”

  “How do you find these people? If you pick and choose from a group of applicants you could make an enemy of someone you refused.” She thought of a reality show where people were kicked out. But Mac would never behave so cavalierly with people’s hopes and dreams.

  “Businesses come to my attention in various ways. Sometimes it’s an ad in a paper that catches my eye. If I like the concept, I’ll watch how the business is run. If there’s potential, I approach them on the QT. No one’s yet broken their promise of silence.”

  “They wouldn’t jeopardize more help and advice from you.” She also understood he had to keep this quiet. “You’d be overrun if this got out.”

  “I keep my charitable foundation under wraps for the same reason. Unscrupulous people use fake charities to scam donations.”

  Rory joined in. “Mac has encouraged a lot of success through his mentoring program.” There was a note of pride in his voice. “After a year or so, decent local jobs are created. The businesses that he takes an interest in thrive.”

  Mac shrugged. “It’s fun. Gives me a charge to see it all work. It’s satisfying to help build a business. I’ve made some interesting friends.”

  “I bet you have.” He’d have met all kinds of people from all walks of life. His interest in her seemed more real. More honest.