She roused herself and started her workday. After cleaning her kitchen, she got dressed, combed her hair and put on some light makeup. Sitting at her computer, she forced her mind away from the topic of the delectable, sexy Ian and onto the topic of early childhood intervention services for children with developmental delays. Working from her interview notes and an audiotape, she wrote out a basic outline. Once she had finished, she read over what she had. Satisfied with her first draft, she saved the article and made a quick lunch. Continuing her writing, she moved to the next article on her list – about the high-end, luxury homes and condos scattered in and around Las Cruces. Once she had written a first draft of that article, she emailed the photographer who had taken the photos that were to accompany her words –
“Hey, Charlie, I’ve just finished the first draft of that luxury articles assignment. If you could, please attach and send the photos you feel best represent the angle that Homes of Las Cruces will want. I’d like to get this submitted to the publisher no later than mid-week next week. Thanks, Morgan.”
By the end of the day, Morgan was satisfied with the amount of work she had gotten done. As she was making a light dinner, Grace called her.
“Hey, girl, how’s it going? Have you started getting more assignments yet?”
“Yes, and it’s exciting! When I get to the point where I have to schedule my work out two and three weeks ahead, I know I’m making progress. I’ve got, let’s see, four articles in first-draft status. How about you? How’s it going?”
“It’s going well – but I miss your help on my paperwork. I have a student and she’s painfully slow! What you get done in a day, takes her three days, and she’s not taking classes this summer. I’m thinking of hiring a second student so I can get graded assignments back to my classes.”
“Wow. It’s not hard, as long as you know what you’re doing.”
“It’s not a matter of not knowing what she’s doing, Morgan. It’s a matter of distraction and lack of focus. She’s told her friends she’s working in the English building and I’ve told her repeatedly that her desk isn’t Gossip Central. I’ve resorted to telling her friends they can visit with her after working hours are over. I haven’t made any friends lately!”
“That’s not your fault, Grace – your student should have known better than to invite her friends to use her desk as a gossip station. You’re just making sure she knows she’s supposed to be working. If I had time, I’d go and help out; if I have time later this week, I’ll go for a few hours, free of charge.”
Grace was silent, then, “You know, it’s an indicator of how desperate I am because I’m actually going to accept your offer. What’s convenient for you?”
“When does your student show up?”
“She’s supposed to be here by 8, but it’s often closer to 9 when she drags her cute little fanny in. Would you show her an example of timeliness and attention to work? Once she starts, she does good work. It’s just timeliness and sticking to her work.”
“Okay. I’ll be there at about 8 and I’ll stay until about 10 tomorrow. Will that be okay?”
“Perfect! She’s coming back in from lunch now. I’ll let her see you doing some of the assignments. It may give her a scare because she needs this work. If that’s the only thing that sinks in, I’ll take it! I’d better go.”
Morgan laughed. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
***
On Saturday morning, Morgan woke up, feeling nervous. Her date with Ian was scheduled for that night. She had decided on Lorenzo’s. But first, she needed to go through each article she had written and make sure they were all correct so she and Ian would have something to discuss the following week at their editing meeting. Sitting down, she shut the evening to come out of her mind and went through each article, finding and correcting typos and smoothing out areas with awkward wording. After lunch, she went to the mall to look for a new dress – what she currently had was outdated and looked . . . old.
Ian rang her doorbell right before 6:30. Morgan answered her door, feeling her heart pounding double-time.
Ian’s jaw dropped when he saw Morgan framed in her doorway. She had chosen to forego her usual ponytail or French braid for their date. Instead, her pepper-and-salt hair appeared to be mostly down, framing her gamine face. A jeweled hair clip captured the mass of curly hair, pulling the weight of it from her neck. As her hair cascaded down the back of her head, it looked as though she still had it down. The look emphasized her large, deep-brown eyes, pointed chin and high cheekbones. Her eyes, too, appeared larger. Ian knew about the “magic” of cosmetics, but he was unable to figure out what Morgan had done. She wore sparkly chandelier earrings that dropped nearly to her shoulders. Her dress was a royal-blue stunner. It was a simple, sleeveless shift with a neckline that dipped down low enough to show the beginnings of her cleavage. She carried a lightweight shawl to drape around her shoulders if she got cold at the restaurant. Morgan’s shoes were simple slip-on sandals with a tiny kitten heel. She slipped her cell phone and house keys into a small, glittery shoulder bag that she slung from one shoulder.
Ian’s mouth opened and closed as he looked for words to express his reaction to her appearance – he couldn’t think. Instead, he motioned at her appearance and said, “Wow! Look at you!”
Morgan smiled shyly. She was nervous. She wanted to make a good impression on Ian and, as she saw him, she, too, had trouble thinking of what she wanted to say. He had dressed simply in a dark, blue-green long-sleeved shirt with gray dress pants and dress shoes. His hair was cut, no longer sporting the wavy ends he usually wore. His blue eyes were even darker, probably because of the color of his shirt.
Ian escorted Morgan to his car, opening the passenger door and waiting until she had seated herself before shutting the door. As he drove, he seemed to remember how to speak.
“Wow, you look beautiful! I like that dress on you – the color suits you.”
Morgan smiled again. “It looks like we both had the same idea about color, doesn’t it? You clean up pretty well, yourself, editor!” She felt the need to joke a little to lighten the suddenly sensuous atmosphere in Ian’s car.
At the restaurant, a tall, lithe server introduced herself to them and explained the day’s specials. Ian ordered a bottle of wine, which they sipped as they decided what they wanted to eat. While they waited for their food, they talked about themselves.
“I always wanted to work with words and my teachers pointed out how easily I found others’ mistakes when we exchanged papers to critique. The English language has always been easy for me. I became the editor of our college newspaper when I was only a junior, and I kept that position until I graduated. For several years, I worked for one of the largest papers in Seattle, then, when that paper started downsizing, I decided to move to New Mexico. I’ve always loved the Southwest, and the southern part of this state has so much to offer,” Ian said. “What about you? What pulled you into writing?”
“I just love to write. Whether it’s an instructional or explanatory piece, or something that educates my readers, I get a charge from communicating something new to them. I have some fiction ideas that I’ve written down, but I haven’t had much time to outline them. I’m hoping that I’ll be able to do so once my lawsuit has been tried or settled, either way.”
“I think you’ll win. I know you – your ethics and love of the written word. You’re not going to cheat your managing editors or the magazines by outsourcing. It’s just not in you to do so, and I think Lily saw that once she went through your body of work. Mack’s gonna lose and he’s gonna lose big – maybe not in dollars. Instead, his reputation is going to take a huge hit when his peers see what he was willing to stoop to to ruin you,” Ian predicted.
Ian’s words of support caused Morgan to tear up unexpectedly. She raised her head slightly so they wouldn’t run down her cheeks. She inhaled deeply and looked at him once she knew the tears wouldn’t overflow and fall. “Thank you – you don’t k
now how much that means to me. I do love writing – have, ever since I was in elementary school. I remember one assignment when I was in, oh, the fifth or sixth grade. When our teacher gave us the assignment, I was so excited because I could allow my imagination to go wild. When we had finished writing them and read them in front of the class, I listened to what my classmates had written. I think two girls collaborated because their stories were about the same character – a talking girl mouse. One girl started off and she talked about this mouse who wanted to have adventures, but was afraid. It was . . . cute. Not so much good as it was unique in a cutesy way. The other girl continued with the mouse ‘can’ting’ on the adventures she wanted to have. When it was my turn, I had written about a girl who was dealing with classmates who were targeting her – you see, these girls that had written about this mouse had targeted me. They’d bring little toys from home and hide them in my desk, then they’d complain to the teacher that I’d stolen their things. Our teacher had talked to me one time already, and I told them I hadn’t. Well, I came in early from recess and I saw them standing over my desk with the top open and they were putting something in. I was wearing sneakers, I think, so I just backed out and found our teacher and told her what I’d seen. She talked to the two of them and the whole thing was over, thankfully, because the next step would have been to call all our parents. That wouldn’t have gone over well at home because my parents were pretty strict and had high expectations of us. Anyway, that’s what my story came from. It wasn’t until I went back to school and earned my journalism degree that I looked at my desire to write books again. Other than outlining a few story ideas and writing down ideas as I get them, I haven’t actually begun writing. My plan is to start on one of those outlines once the judge decides on my case - that’s a definite,” Morgan said.
After the two finished eating, they continued talking over their wine and plates of rich tiramisu. Finally, Ian paid the bill and left a sizable tip on the table.
“Would you like to view the sunset from the university? I know the perfect spot,” he said.
Morgan looked at him with a smile. “I think I know where you’re talking about – student family housing just east of the ag fields, right?”
“You got it. Let’s go.” Placing his hand at Morgan’s back, just under her shawl, he felt his skin tingle where he touched her. He knew he was going to have a very hard time keeping his hands off her.
Morgan felt the same tingle and she hoped they would do some kissing – just not too much. She was afraid of her reaction to his lips and touch, but she also wanted to explore how they made her feel.
Ian parked his car on the side of Sam Steele Drive and they sat on a large rock with a plaque proclaiming the land to be the property of New Mexico State University. Ian had lifted Morgan so she could sit on the rock, then he joined her. They watched the sky turn a dark, orange-pink hue as the sun began falling below the western horizon. Hills, buildings and the nearby interstate slowly faded before the splendor of the sunset. The sky was free of clouds, so the atmosphere and clear air both allowed the sun and its setting beauty to take center stage. Morgan’s spirit calmed as she watched the sun slowly set.
Ian was very aware of the petite woman at his side, but he also knew that, if they were meant to be, it would happen. He allowed his arm to drape naturally behind Morgan’s back. Leaning back, he allowed his arm to touch Morgan, and he experienced the now-familiar electrical tingles that this contact caused. Ian pulled his gaze away from the beauty of the vivid sunset so he could gauge Morgan’s reaction to the touch of his arm on her back. His gaze focused on the small pulse beating just under her chin. He saw it speed up slightly, feeling drawn to press his lips on the irresistibly sexy spot on her neck. As his lips made contact, he heard Morgan’s soft inhalation, which made his own heartbeat rocket up.
Morgan turned toward Ian, slipping her arms around his neck, as if to hold on. Closing her eyes, she felt Ian’s soft lips settle onto her mouth, evoking a passionate response. Oddly, she felt safe and . . . loved as she kissed Ian. She was only dimly aware of their surroundings as vehicles passed by on Union Avenue. Finally, needing to catch her breath, she broke contact with Ian’s mouth and looked into his now stormy, dark-blue eyes. The planes of his face appeared to be sculptured from stone as he battled his own passionate reaction.
Ian’s eyes traveled over Morgan’s flushed face. Her brown eyes now looked like a bottomless pool and her lips were swollen from their kisses. He grunted low in his throat as he shifted slightly to relieve the pressure in his groin.
“Uh, maybe we should go before we put on a show for everyone passing by,” he whispered.
Morgan blushed, looking down. As she did, she saw a unmistakable lump in Ian’s slacks. Raising her eyes to his, she nodded. “Yes, please get me home. I think we’ve, well, we’ve talked enough for tonight – that is, it’s getting late and I’m tired,” she hastened to say, not wanting to leave the impression that she wanted to take him to bed.
***
The following Monday, Morgan was deep in making needed edits to one of the articles she had written the previous week. She absently picked up the phone, forgetting to check caller I.D.
“Hello, this is Morgan speaking. How may I help you?”
“You can help me by droppin’ that goddamn lawsuit if I quit buggin’ you to come back to work for my store. That’s killin’ me with other business leaders. I promise, I’ll stop buggin’ you – now just drop the damn thing!”
Morgan paused, thinking. This is really affecting him! Except that, I know he’s lying through his teeth. He won’t stop bugging me. He just wants to take my power away from me so he can put me into another bad spot.
“No, John. I’m not dropping it. You must think I’m colossally stupid if you think I’ll do so. Your performance at The Shed let me know that you don’t intend to leave me alone. Even more, your attempt to defame and blackmail me with Lily told me what your true intentions are. You don’t like that I quit and became my own boss. Why, I can only guess. All I know is that I enjoy my work – I only worked at your store because I needed the money while I was in school. This is what my education was for, John. If you can’t even try to understand that, then you’re hopeless. The only thing that’ll stop you is my lawsuit. Goodbye.” Morgan disconnected the call, turned the phone to “silent” and set it back in its base. After the call, she found herself unable to focus on her work, so she went out to her backyard, where she turned her face up to the hot light of the day, making herself focus on the benefits of her freelancing life. After several minutes of her meditation, she felt more able to return to her proofing and writing.
Several hours later, she heard her cell phone ringing. Checking the caller I.D., she saw that Rick was on the line.
“Hey, Rick! How goes it?”
“Very well, actually! How about you?”
“Better, now that I told John I wasn’t going to drop my lawsuit. Do you have any news for me?”
“Oh, Lord, he called again? Or did he try to stop by your house?”
“He called. Begged me to drop the lawsuit and ‘promised’ he stop bugging me. Thing is, I know that, once I do drop the lawsuit, he’ll figure he’s got the upper hand again. There’ll be nothing to stop him from pulling the same stunt. So I told him ‘no.’”
“Good. Because I filed the motion for a restraining order. Contact like this morning’s would be forbidden. Things continue to look better and better for you, which is why John tried this. He knows it – his attorney told him that he stands a damn good chance of losing. He told me that he’s trying to get John to agree to a sizable settlement. Okay, my next appointment just got here, so I’d better go. I just wanted to give you this update,” Rick said.
“Hey, Rick, thanks. You’re earning your contingency fee, you know that?”
“I know. John and his stupidity are actually making it easier. Of course, knowing that you know your stuff, that helps, too. I’d really better get going. I�
�ll call again when I have more news.”
“Okay, thanks! Have a great one,” Morgan said as she hung up.
After receiving this piece of happy news, Morgan found it easy to return to her work. She finished proofing all her work, just as Ian called.
“Hey, Morgan, how are you?”
“I’m fine.” Morgan breathed a sigh of relief – it sounded as if Ian was in full editor mode. “Are you calling to set up a meeting for this week?”
“Yeah. Come to my house on Wednesday, at about 11. I’ll have lunch for us so we can work and eat. Bring your laptop as well.”
“Wednesday, 11, laptop and lunch. I’ll be there. See you!” Morgan hung up. Sitting at her desk, she thought about her experiences with the charge of defamation, finding Rick and filing the lawsuit.
You know, Morgan, there’s likely to be other freelance writers – and editors – who may be facing the same experience. Rick’s legal help is making it look as though you’ll win, so why not tell others about what you did when you were charged with outsourcing? Write an e-book and get Ian to edit it.
Grabbing a pen and a fresh pad of paper, she wrote down her idea, listing the pros and cons. Looking at her list, she called Rick and left a message with his office assistant.
“I’d just like to know if this is a viable idea and if it could potentially help other writers and editors who may face this kind of a situation. Yes, if you could have Rick call me back, I’d be grateful. Thanks! Bye!” After hanging up, she continued to think about her idea.
Could I write an e-book? How long would it be? How complex is the process of self-publishing and would it be worth my time and effort?
Morgan picked up her cell phone. With a tingling finger and madly beating heart, she called Ian.
“H’lo, this is Ian Brady, how can I help you?”
“Ian, it’s Morgan. I had an idea and I’d like to discuss its potential with you. You know how I’ve been going through this outsourcing charge, how I had to find other work while my work was being reviewed – and how I’ve filed a lawsuit.”
Freelance Love Page 6