Secret Bet (The House of Morgan)

by Victoria Pinder

  Then he wrapped himself in a towel and said, "Let's get you inside. You're already sunburned. I'll scrounge up some clothes for you to wear."

  His tan was perfect. She held her question of whether his color went under his suit. Instead she massaged her neck and followed.

  He pointed to a room. "I'll have clothes sent to your room. Meet me in five minutes on the second floor for breakfast?"

  She nodded. What else might she say? Then she retraced her steps and returned. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why he had women’s clothes, but she hadn’t.

  She washed off in the bathroom. When she came out, she found a pair of men’s shorts with an elastic waist and a tee shirt. She dropped her clothes in a pile on the floor as she changed.

  Five minutes later, she walked into a room a floor above hers and entered a sitting area that displayed a tray of breakfast pastries and coffee. She dried her hands on the towel and then sat. Peter had waited for her without touching any dish, and he stood until she sat. As she lowered herself, he handed her a napkin and retook his seat.

  "Does this happen to you all the time?"

  "You mean the dolphins?"

  "Yes. They’re my personal pets." He poured them both coffees as the engines purred on underneath their feet.

  “You’re joking.”

  “Yeah.” He handed her the cup. "I don’t know if beautiful creatures like them should be locked up, and besides, I don’t want an aquarium."

  “They would require a lot of fish on a daily basis. Not the best pets. Perhaps you should get a dog?” Her fingers ached to touch him. She lowered her gaze. "And does swimming count as something unexpected?"

  “No time for the care of any dogs and my maid would not like the extra work, I’m sure.” He added cream to his coffee. His chin bobbed as if he gave her words deep thought. "As for swimming, I'll give that a yes."

  A slow smile built on her face. "I wasn't always so hard, you know. Most people would find my kind of fun rather boring."

  "If boring is the worst they say about you, then it's not that bad."

  "What do people say about you?"

  “Much worse.” How his eyes widened made her stomach do a flip. Then he said, "Drink your coffee.”

  “What do they say?”

  “I don’t care what others say or think, but I've been a selfish jerk for years that never needed anyone."

  "You tell yourself you're a jerk but don't see how nice you truly are." She squeezed her hair again and licked her lips. He was hard on himself. "And your siblings clearly love you."

  He shook his head. "I don't deserve it."

  She placed the coffee on the table and rubbed his knee. "Why?"

  He ran his hand through his hair. "They left. I protected them from our father, but I did whatever he wanted. I was Mitch Morgan's heir and entitled to everything.”

  “Did you act like your father?”

  “I hope not, but he trained me. They didn't have to take the same lessons, over and over again. They didn't watch our mom walk out the door. And when they were big enough, they ran away. Do you know what it's like to be so spoiled and know you are being spoiled because you're the heir? It's like a poison that runs through the veins."

  “Don’t torture yourself.” Her own father needed her to ensure that his retirement went well, but he had saved for years. He enjoyed himself now, and the weight on her shoulders wasn't like Peter's. Her legs parted as she leaned closer to him. “You did what you could to help those you loved and didn’t push them away.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You spoke more about caring about your family than you did about being selfish.”

  “You really are optimistic.”

  "Let me ask you another question. So when you were talking about me doing the unexpected, you were discussing yourself too?"

  "No. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want."

  "Or do you now act out to spite your father?"

  His eyes widened again. "Smart and inquisitive."

  The colors in his eyes that swam and fueled her fantasy of this moment didn't matter. She slumped in her chair and picked up her coffee to break the spell she was in. "Besides all your money and power, you're scared."

  "Me?" He raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

  "You don't let people in. Your guard might be stronger than my own."

  "The dolphin swim must have really loosened my brain."

  Hers too, not that she'd say that. She held her breath and tried to rein in her inhibitions. She glanced out the window, but the distraction didn't work. She was still in this room with him, and it felt cozy and warm.

  She sighed. "Tell you what, I don't want to go to your sister's wedding alone to sit with my friends and feel sorry for myself. I have this idea."

  "I'm listening."

  "Good." She probably blushed as she said, "I'd like for us to stay at each other's side for the day. If you can trust me a little, then I can trust you."

  "Like a date?"

  Her heartbeat was so rapid in her chest now. "Yeah, I guess."

  His hands brushed her knee, and her hair rose on her skin from the electrical shock. "Why can you trust me?"

  "You can say no."

  "I won't. I just want to know why you trust me of all people."

  She sipped her coffee, though the caffeine made her heart slight worse. She held the handle tighter. "You let me sleep off the obviously too much champagne."

  He picked up a croissant from the tray of food and placed it in front of her. "Of course I did. I don't need to rape or pillage to get what I want."

  No, women lined up at his door for one night. She read the newspapers that lined the food aisle.

  "You were a gentleman. And even more important, to me, is that you told me about yourself. I'm willing to try and trust you, for one night."

  His chin jetted out as he held his cup in his hands. "I'm looking forward to our date then, but I'll hold out for that kiss of yours."

  "What?"

  He winked at her again. "I promised you'd ask me. I'll be your date tonight, but I'm telling you my hope. At the end of it, I hope I get to taste you."

  Her cup jittered. She grabbed the bottom of the cup so she'd not spill. "Don't hold out for that."

  "I can't help it. You fascinate me."

  They had a date of sorts. She'd have someone to sit with tonight, and with the cameras in her face, there was no way she'd break down.

  She added butter to her croissant. "So are we going to float in the ocean all day or at some point do we head back to Miami?"

  "The Bahamas have some nice shopping."

  "I didn't pack my passport."

  His dimples showed. He stood and strode across the room. "That's disappointing. Hold on. I'll call my captain."

  She shook her head. "You're sweet."

  As she waited, she nibbled on her croissant. She swallowed. The bread was soft and dewy and freshly made. She swallowed the whole thing, and she wiped her mouth has he returned to his seat.

  "Done. I cancelled our private beach villa morning. We'll head back to Miami now. As my date tonight, there are expectations. Will you allow my handlers to ensure everything is picture perfect for tonight?"

  Her eyebrows shot up. "Handlers?"

  "They keep my name clean in the press. I want to avoid negative publicity as much as possible."

  One of the reasons she wanted to go with him was to seem unaffected. She'd never cry about her own silly heart if she was surrounded. She gulped her coffee. "Okay."

  Again he had those sexy dimples. Rich men shouldn't be granted good looks. It was a double whammy. She held out her cup, and the blasted man had manners enough to refill it as he asked, "The Biltmore will know the Morgan Enterprise people."

  "I'm not staying there."

  "Why not? It's where we put up all the out of town guests."

  "I didn't know I was coming."

  "What hotel are you staying at?"<
br />
  Her hands shook as she held the saucer. She tried to hide it and gazed out the window again. "The Extended Stay."

  The glass reflected the frown on his face and read his opinion perfectly. "I'll change your hotel. You should be with the rest of the wedding guests."

  Her hotel suited her needs. She was perfectly fine, but her voice sounded like a chipmunk as she asked, "What?"

  "I can't have my date return to some place unacceptable. My mother already disappeared. My sister faked her death. The last thing I need is more women who up and disappear. So jot down your room number and I’ll have my people move you."

  All that information overload meant she didn't register anything about his mother or sister. It was all a blur, though she tried to see through it. "You can't buy me Peter."

  "We all have our price tags on what we'll compromise on. The rest of the day isn't about buying favors for you. This is about ensuring everyone at my sister's wedding is taken care of. I'm still the selfish jerk I always was. Don't forget that part."

  She placed her coffee on the table and scratched her head. "I don't understand."

  "You will. See you tonight. Accept the dress for the one I ruined on you and the rest of the stuff you need to be my date."

  "I can get my own dress."

  "You and I don't live in the same worlds. Don't think of anything as more than armor to protect yourself, like the uniform you must have worn in the Marines."

  "I do go to parties in DC with senators and representatives a lot."

  "Those people all service men like me, Belle. Let my staff do its job so you're comfortable with the cameras."

  "Okay, I guess." She feigned interest in her nails and wrote her hotel information on a slip of paper, though she couldn't stop her question. "Are you sure you're real?"

  "Don't worry. There is always a catch with me, and for you it's a kiss."

  He sipped his coffee and bit into the croissant like he hadn't said something monumental. She picked up her cup and accepted that near Peter Morgan her heart beat faster, but it wasn't fear. She sipped her cup. "We’ve had progress, you and I.”

  “We have?”

  “Sure. I'm not anxious near you anymore, so that's good, but I also don't promise anything else."

  He brushed the outline of his morning beard that he hadn't shaved yet. "Belle, there is something fascinating about you."

  “You keep using that word when you talk about me.” She crossed her arms. She should have been clearer. "Either way though, that kiss probably won't happen."

  "We'll see. Probably means I still have a chance."

  "Don’t get your hopes up.”

  “I learned hope from you.” He didn't say anything else and her heart raced with the truth. He might be right. For a moment she hoped he'd rip off her shirt and kiss her hard, right now. She sipped her coffee. This fantasy about Peter was new. She had never expected to become attracted to him, but there was no way, she’d let fantasy interfere with cold hard reality.

  Chapter Seven

  As the yacht docked, Belle held out her hand to shake, but Peter reached in for a hug. Her body tingled, and she couldn't figure out what to do. She hadn't hugged him. Instead she patted his back, but she didn't quite know how far to reach across him to give him a hug.

  Her heartbeat grew erratic. Finally she settled on keeping her arms from touching him, and the unsteadiness made her lightheaded. In the end, she pressed her arm behind his shoulders.

  As he let go, she prayed her face didn't show a huge blush. Most of his women probably knew how to hug.

  She brushed her hair behind her ear as he said, "See you tonight. I'll pick you up from your hotel."

  “Yeah. There is a problem.” Her entire body was hot and steamy, and it had nothing to do with the temperature outside. She fanned herself and licked her lips. "I don't know where I'm going."

  He squeezed her hand. "Let my limo driver take you. I took care of all the details."

  "Of course you did. It sounds like a master plan that you have in your playbook."

  “Believe me, Belle, with you, the playbook is being completely rewritten.”

  She sat there, unsure how to respond. It might be surly if she took it all back now.

  He winked. "I told you what I want from you."

  She gritted her teeth and tried not to imagine what his kiss would taste like. "Somehow, I think there is more to your interest in me, but I don't want to know what it is."

  "We all have imaginations."

  She sniffed the air as the scent of oak washed through her, and then she swallowed. "What are you plans for the day without me then?"

  "I have to go to work, but then I'll get ready at home. I’ll be at your hotel at eight o’clock."

  “I’ll meet you downstairs then.” This was the worst idea of her life. Her friends would see her sitting with one of the richest men in the world and think she had gone off the deep end. Her pulse grew fast, though she rolled her shoulders and neck. "I don't know anything about you. This might not be a good idea."

  “You know enough, probably more than most people on their first date.” He patted her arm. "So live a little, Belle Jordan."

  "I'll figure you out, Peter."

  "Not much to analyze."

  Her mouth grew moist like she'd ask for a kiss. She hugged her stomach and glanced at the limo door. "You could probably have anyone that crosses your path. We don't make sense."

  He tried to meet her gaze, but she avoided him. "Have faith."

  "Faith and I aren't exactly on the best terms."

  "Let go of being so defensive then."

  Tingles grew all over her as she stood near him. She'd beg for that kiss right now if she thought she'd never see him again. This was so out of her element, and she clenched her hands. One dolphin swim didn't change the facts about her or him.

  She stiffened her body and nodded. "See you tonight, with or without my armor. I'll decide that later."

  "Belle, you are fascinating. I can't wait to see you tonight."

  “Find another word to describe me then. I can’t live up to ‘fascinating’ forever.” He saw that she was settled in a limo, and then he went to another one. He hadn't even made a call. His people took care of every detail of his life.

  In a daze, she settled into the seat and closed her eyes. This was something she never could have imagined. The white buildings and the smell of the ocean was everywhere. Time must have sped past her. She licked her lips, and the next thing she realized she was at the door of a fancy hotel.

  Parrots squawked and repeated words in the trees. This Christmas was so strange. She stepped outside into the bright summer day, though there were pine decorations splattered in corners. The tropical climate with the lined palm trees did not give her the holiday feel, even if they were wrapped with lights.

  She crossed her arms to get her bearings as the limo driver said, "The front desk will have your key, miss."

  She should give the driver a tip. She dropped her hands and opened her pocketbook to hand him a few dollars. Luckily she had some cash on hand.

  She reached to give it to him. "Okay. Here take this."

  He waved his arms in front of him. "I get paid more than enough. I'll be here in case you need to go anywhere."

  Every cell in her body was awake and scratchy. She swallowed the urge to argue. "Why?"

  "Mr. Morgan pays me to drive his guests."

  "Of course he does."

  She shook her head. Peter was one of the richest men in the world, even she knew that about him.

  She coughed, but instead of saying this was a stupid idea, she nodded and said, "Thanks."

  This was entirely too much. She walked inside, and the light piano music that wafted in the airy lobby with thick red carpets gave a sense that she had been transported to someplace meant for extraordinary people. She clutched her well-used, slightly shredding pocketbook.

  The vaulted ceilings and bright sunlight were not made for ordinary people
like her. She blinked and saw a mahogany front desk. Her shoulders slumped, though she marched over to it.

  "I'm Belle Jordan."

  The clerk in a red suit nodded. "May I see your identification?"

  "Of course." At least procedures never changed. This made him almost normal. She handed him her license. The clerk studied it, typed and then handed her an electric card. "Staff will see you shortly, ma'am."

  Staff? Peter had said handlers. She'd said yes because of some strange spell she was under that had started with that unexpected swim. Her simple shorts and tee shirt seemed too casual for this place, but her black dress in the plastic bag had obvious signs of water damage. Her hair was extra frizzy from the ocean. She grimaced.

  "Thanks. What is the daily rate I'll be paying while I'm here?"

  "Your bill is provided for."

  Once again, Peter. “Thanks but I’ll pay for myself when I check out.”

  "Ma'am?"

  She could walk out on principle. He had said he took care of the guests, which must mean he paid for every out of town guest. It might be a Morgan thing. The last wedding she had been in, she had paid for her own bridesmaid dress. This might be how the one percenters lived, though. She hugged her waist.

  Perhaps asking him to be her date tonight had been a huge mistake. This was too rich. She wiggled her nose.

  "At what cost?"

  "Would you like a copy of the bill at check out?"

  "Yes. We'll go from there."

  The price of how much she'd owe him for eternity. If her never-used credit card wasn't enough, perhaps she could set up a payment plan.

  Besides, how would she explain this room to her friends?

  "Very good. Anything else, ma'am?"

  Perhaps directions on how to get her soul back. "No, thank you."

  She squared her posture and marched with the electric key in hand. As she read her room number, she proceeded to the elevator. As she stared at the buttons, she realized she was on the top floor. The penthouse was always the most expensive.

  This was far above the wedding guest offer. She pressed the button and rested her head on the wall. More piano music played as the elevator climbed. Her heart seemed to double in beats with every floor. She held her wrists as the ride finally ended and the doors opened.