by Lily LaVae
“You’re….Morgan Turner. The Morgan Turner?” She squeaked.
“That’s the name my mother gave me.” Not really, it was the name his record label had given him and then made him legally change it. That had been before he was one of the highest grossing recording artists in the world. Now, he couldn’t change it.
Her crystal blue eyes met his and they were full of more emotion than he’d witnessed in a long time. “When I get really angry, I turn on your music and somehow, it helps.” She stared at him, but now it wasn’t with awe, it was compassion. “I don’t know what happened to you to make you feel what I do, but—”
“I don’t write my songs. My base player writes most of them.” He lied as he strode for the door because he didn’t want an emotional discussion anywhere—and certainly not here. The wheels of her luggage clacked against the tile floor, informing him that she followed.
He chuckled to himself as he pushed his sunglasses back up his nose. This might be easier than I thought.
His driver held open the door as he climbed inside, then he grabbed Eloise’s huge bag, sliding the handle down as he went for the trunk. Eloise climbed in and sat next to him. She wasn’t what he’d been expecting. Her ears were small, almost hidden beneath her thick, almost white hair. The cut of it made her face tiny, almost delicate. He didn’t want anything to do with delicate. She was wearing a suit, and even though it fit her to absolute perfection, it didn’t fit her, either. She didn’t look like the type who ever wore a skirt. Her shapely legs were muscular, and he hoped she didn’t need to do too much running. Exercising on the road could be brutal.
He drew in a long breath and let it out. Now that she couldn’t just walk away, he could explain to her exactly what he’d planned. Though, with how she’d about fainted when she found out who he was, he had to be careful she didn’t turn on him when she found out what he was really up to.
“Now that you’re here, I need to tell you. I never planned to marry whoever the DBA set me up with.”
Her pretty slender jaw dropped, but she said nothing. He’d kind of expected her to go off the deep end, at least a little. I mean, he was Morgan Turner. Didn’t losing him as a potential husband five minutes after she’d learned she had him account for anything?
“And?” She said, tilting her head, waiting for him to finish as if he’d just announced where they would eat dinner, not that he had intentionally been vague in the contract so he wouldn’t break it when he didn’t marry her.
“I filled out all of that paperwork so they would match me with the perfect personal assistant. I’ve gone through every hiring agency and private firm I can find.”
“Wait, you want to hire me…for a job?” Her face broke out in a glorious smile that had him in shock for a change. He’d been the focus of many smiles, but none quite so genuine and none that bothered him so much. Why would she be so happy about not getting to be with him?
“That was my plan.” He was still waiting for her to go nuts on him.
“I can’t believe this. First, the money for my wardrobe pays for my apartment and car, then I got a new wardrobe, and now I get a job anyway…without having to get references and without having to worry about sex with you.” She laughed.
He hadn’t thought about references, he’d just assumed the agency had done a background check and sleeping with him would be a perk, a major perk. At least, every other PA he’d had thought so.
“Didn’t the agency make you fill anything out? I asked them to make sure you were trustworthy and could do certain things.”
“I can do lots of things, but the only thing they ever checked, was my…health history.”
She turned slightly from him, so she was facing forward and he couldn’t see her eyes.
“Is there anything I should know about this health history? Since I’m your new employer, that might be important.”
She smiled again and shook her head. “No. If we aren’t actually getting married. My health is just fine.”
He stared at her, wondering if she had some sort of STD or what could possibly make her answer like that. Mrs. Creed would be getting a call in the morning before they left town so he could find out exactly what Eloise was hiding.
5
The old lady at the DBA had given him a phone number to contact her when he’d told her he’d be leaving on tour. It wasn’t like he could just fly to see her at will. He let the phone ring a few times and she picked up.
“Yes?” Her voice held the slight hint of surprise.
“This is Morgan Turner. What kind of health concerns should I have about…my bride?” He practically spat the words. Eloise hadn’t argued with him at all the night before. She accepted that she’d have a bunk in his tour bus, almost no privacy, and couldn’t quit without sacrificing a ton of money. He’d been so used to his PAs fighting with him that it had seemed like an incredibly boring evening—a disappointment—considering he’d brought home a bride. He also couldn’t get that blasted smile out of his head. It had been beautiful, innocent. Why did she keep showing him things he was sure he didn’t want, yet couldn’t stop thinking about? Delicacy and innocence had no business on his bus.
“Mr. Turner. You said you didn’t care about her health or any other matter as long as she could perform the duties you requested. I assure you, she can. All things considered, I really can’t tell you anything else. There are privacy laws…”
“That’s not what I asked, Mrs. Creed. Need I remind you that you promised my satisfaction?”
She huffed over the phone. “It’s far too late in the process for you to be concerned about these issues. I can’t change her past.”
A sick dread knocked him in the gut. It was just his luck. He finally found a PA who didn’t argue with every breath he took and she probably had cancer or something. “Out with it.”
The silence on the other end was as deafening as one of his concerts. She took a deep breath, then let it out. “We generally only take virgins, but you were a tough case to manage. You had some interesting qualifications, which made us consider every applicant. Even ones we would normally serve a silence contract and send on their way. So, when Eloise came in and she matched, with the exception of the fact that she was not a virgin…”
Her delicate, innocent features flashed before him, and he just couldn’t see it. He couldn’t picture her with anyone, even trying made him tense in the shoulders and gut. “You and I both know that unless she has some type of disease, her past sexual activity has nothing to do with her health. Is she going to die, or is she pregnant?”
The silence on the other end made him want to cuss her, but he’d learned at their first meeting that if he wanted to get anywhere with Alveda Creed, he’d best hold his tongue.
“It’s not what she told us, Mr. Turner. It’s what the medical exam showed. Miss Fontaine claims to have no children, but that’s not what the x-ray says otherwise. It could just be that she has very maternal hips. And if you claim I told you this, I will call you a liar and swear I didn’t.”
“Fuck.” He couldn’t have someone thinking about a kid left behind for months.
“What did you say to me?” Mrs. Creed huffed.
He’d lost it for a moment and was still having trouble with this new bit of information. “Sorry. I’m just trying to figure out how I can possibly marry someone who’ll be thinking about a child that she hasn’t admitted to anyone she has.” Not that he had any intention to marry her at all, but he did have to keep her around.
He heard Mrs. Creed typing rapidly on the other end. “A quick check of her phone records shows me that the only calls she’s made, outside of employment agencies, in the last month are to a Dr. Edward Peterson. Perhaps he’s the father and she doesn’t have custody? Since she didn’t tell me, I can only speculate. There’s little else I can do.”
He didn’t want to think about how in the world Mrs. Creed had access to Eloise’s phone records. Dammit, he wouldn’t think about it. If Eloise didn’t wan
t to tell anyone, and they weren’t going to be married anyway, it wasn’t his business. She didn’t have any disease that would prevent her from doing the job and having a kid didn’t exclude her from work. But the idea that she wasn’t as innocent as he’d at first thought, bothered him. Bad.
The tour bus, as Morgan had called it, was actually the most decked out RV Eloise had ever seen. She made her bed quickly, noting that the place was quiet. Morgan had to be off doing something. He’d mentioned the evening before that they would be taking off on the road soon— within days. He had this strange habit of saying something and then waiting, as if he wanted her to respond. She was still too shocked, unable to believe she worked for Morgan Turner to say anything.
Her bunk was in a short hall that led back to his room. She only knew that fact because the night before—as she’d headed off to bed—he put his hands at her waist to slip behind her and she freaked out. She didn’t let people touch her. Not anymore. It had been simple. He was just a muscular man and there wasn’t space in the little hallway for two. She’d apologized for elbowing him in the stomach and he played it off with a short laugh, but the exchange had stayed with her late into the night. He had smelled wonderful, and the way his hands made it almost all the way around her waist made her shiver.
So far, he was easier to work with than she’d thought he would be, considering how many assistants he’d said he’d been through. He’d told her he’d had trouble finding personal assistants and she’d read in various tabloids that Morgan was about the most difficult musician to work with. The tabloid had used the word diva, which had made her laugh, because he was certainly not. She almost hoped that her old anger had left and she could enjoy this job for a while. Maybe Ed was right. The DBA had been the right place for her—for all the wrong reasons.
The door to the bus opened and Morgan stepped in. She had to get used to the sway of it under his weight and the change in the entire atmosphere when he entered.
He nodded a greeting, but didn’t say anything.
“Morning.” She brushed her hair behind her ear. “Is there something I can read so I know what you need me to do, or will you train me in?” She wasn’t quite sure what was expected of her. Since she’d signed on to act like a wife, not an assistant, she didn’t have a clue.
“You follow me around with that stupid notebook and try to give me orders. It’s your job to keep track of my schedule and make sure that I don’t have to talk to anyone I don’t want to.” He lowered his chin and he practically growled at her.
“I see.” She bit back the retort she would’ve usually thrown at him. She didn’t want to lose this job on the very first day. Morning obviously wasn’t his time. They’d talked a bit the night before. Nothing earth shattering, but this was uncalled for.
If you stay for a year, you never have to work again…
“And where do I find this all-important notebook, along with your schedule, and anything that might be important?”
“It’s at your desk, in the back of the bus.” He threw the words at her as he rummaged through a drawer in the bar that looked like it held every receipt from the dawn of time.
She gulped. The back of the bus was where he slept. “In the back of the bus?” She hoped he meant somewhere else, but there wasn’t really any other place he could possibly be speaking of.
“Yes. Go on back and check it out if you’re so interested in starting.” He shooed her off like she was no more than a bug. She probably wasn’t to him. Just another fan who would take up space in his life.
As she strode to Morgan’s room, she took long deep breaths to calm herself down. Morgan was known to be grouchy. It was his persona. She was just going to have to put up with it until she was used to him, then she could give him a little right back. He was just as stuck with her as she was with him. They might as well enjoy the journey.
His room was much neater than she expected. It wasn’t like they had maid service on the bus, but there were no clothes laying around and the bed was made, mostly. Along the wall, built into the side, was a short desk with an attached chair. At the desk was a laptop, a thick leather-bound notebook and a day planner. As she flipped through to find today’s date, she found notes from her predecessors. Some were random notes about what had been done and others were more personal.
From four weeks before, a new PA had started. The writing was different from earlier notes.
Got hired right away. Morgan’s a pushover. A hottie too. It won’t take but a day or two.
By the next day, whoever had written the note began treating the book like her personal sex diary. Good thing the relationship only lasted a few days, but apparently they’d been on the road and had little else to do.
The bus had barely pulled back onto the road before Morgan took me back into his room again. If it wasn’t so damn good, and if he didn’t excite places on me I didn’t even know could be excited, I might turn him down. But I won’t… Eloise’s cheeks flamed. She now knew things about her boss she’d never wanted to, or maybe deep down she did, but would’ve rather found out on her own, via exploration.
“Did you find what you needed?” Morgan asked from behind her.
She jumped and slammed the book closed, sure her face was on fire. “Yes. I believe I did,” she squeaked. Crap, she sounded guilty. Had he read that book and told her to find it on purpose, and did he expect mind blowing sex from all his assistants? Was that why he’d gone through a bridal agency instead of a hiring firm? He wanted her for a liaison? But then, why agree to her non-consummation terms? That had to be why he was so angry with her. That and she wasn’t pretty. Her little stick figure without any curves to speak of wouldn’t fit his norm. She hugged herself and tried to quell the disappointment she had no business feeling.
“What the hell is the matter?” He growled.
She gulped back her mortification and unease, her eyes taking in his muscles from his shoulders down to his defined abs and lingered a little too long on his hips. Damn. She should’ve stopped reading…
“Nothing. I was just reading over the notes your last assistant left. She didn’t like you much.”
Morgan snorted. “She wasn’t the first and won’t be the last. This job requires that I keep as much of myself as I can. If I’m not an ass, people will just take and take until there’s nothing left.”
That was true of her, too. She’d shoved everyone away because she had nothing left to give anyone. If she had tried to be a friend to anyone, she would’ve been left with nothing. “I understand. Probably better than you think.” She didn’t want to feel compassion for her boss, but she did. He certainly wouldn’t return it. She could see him stiffen at her words.
“Of course you don’t. People don’t try to take a piece of you wherever you go. They don’t try to steal your stuff for souvenirs, grab you when you walk by, take your picture if you’re foolish enough to try to go out to eat. You know nothing about it. Be happy you don’t.”
She stood up and faced him, finally tired of his pity party. “You think you’re the only one who’s faced problems? You think you’re the only one who’s shoved people away so you can still have a little bit of yourself? You’re wrong. We can either work together to keep your schedule what you want it to be, or you can fight me. I’d like to stick around. Frankly, the offer of the payout at the end of this is enough to put up with whatever shit you can throw at me, but I’d rather work with you than against you.”
He faced her and took measured steps toward her, the muscled chest she’d admired earlier now seemed large and…intimidating. He expected her to cower, she could see it in his eyes. He was practically ordering her to back down, but she wouldn’t.
“I don’t work well with others.” He stopped his advance inches from her and the scent of his body wash and hair products mingled to form a heady aroma. She closed her eyes and focused on not taking a deep breath.
“I don’t either. But both of us need each other right now. You need someone who’ll
stick around and I need a job. What do you say we call a truce?”
He took a step closer and the hard wall of his ribs brushed her chest. She held her breath, sure he would do something, but not sure what. She wouldn’t cower to his intimidation and she wouldn’t back away.
“Why don’t you tell me why you insisted on the non-consummation clause when you thought you were going to be married?”
His quick change of topic left her dizzy, especially after reading the log book and inhaling his intoxicating scent. “I…don’t want to be with another man. Ever.” She glanced away, but that was worse. Now his warm breath fanned over her skin and it was all too obvious there was no space between them. If she wanted room to breathe, she’d have to be the one to back down. She shivered as gooseflesh prickled over her arms.
“Ever is a long time.” He didn’t move, just continued his slow steady breathing over her, filling her with his scent and the impression of his strength with the barest touch between the two of them.
“It is, but one was more than enough.” She would not talk about this. She’d buried it for a year, hid behind her anger. She wouldn’t let this stranger catch her weak.
He reached up and traced her ear and without even thinking, she backed away and slapped him. He stood looking at her his eyes wider than normal, dilated, obviously unaccustomed to anyone who wouldn’t let him do as he pleased.
“Am I here to work or be a bride? Pick one. If I’m here to work, you keep your hands off. If I’m here to be a bride… keep your hands off.” Her heart was racing in her chest, but it wasn’t completely fear. Deep inside her, something lit and burst. She couldn’t allow that. Giving herself to someone hurt. The choices that had to be made afterward hurt even worse.
He narrowed his eyes at her then held up both hands as he took one step back. “Fine. You win. You were practically fainting yesterday when you found out who I was. I just figured…”
She took a deep breath. “You figured wrong.” At least she wouldn’t be leaving any raunchy notes for whoever worked for Morgan after her year was up.