The Seduction of Jason

by Fayrene Preston

  Sami nodded. “He obviously feels that his support must go to his brother, at least for now.”

  “I can understand that. I really can. A love between brothers is very special, and from what I can gather, theirs is more so than usual.”

  “Something like you and I have developed—a love and friendship that’s been forged through years of pain and happiness?”

  “That’s right, but what I need to get across to him is that what he and I share will not threaten their relationship. I admire Jason for his basic integrity regarding David. He obviously takes his responsibilities and loyalties very seriously, and strangely enough, it’s a trait that he and I share. I would never want to interfere with or change that. How could I, loving him as I do? It’s part of what goes into making him such an incredible man. But I happen to have a strong belief that we had something unique and precious going for us, and that we can hold onto it without me coming between the two of them.”

  Sami began to toy with one of her curls again. “Yet, inadvertently, it seems you’ve done just that—come between them.”

  “And no one feels worse than I do about it, believe me. Whether Jason realizes it or not, I have a deep compassion for the hurt that David is feeling at the moment. However, what Jason’s got to know is that, the way this is going, it will all lead to a vicious fallout. He can’t be happy. I can’t be happy. And David would have been even more unhappy if he and I had continued seeing each other, with him eventually realizing that I could never love him as he had hoped. Or, on the other side of the coin, when he learned that he was the cause of the rift between Jason and me. Of course I now realize what a huge mistake it was to even continue seeing David at all! I was trying so hard to be kind and now just look at this mess.”

  “It could be that you and Jason had such a whirlwind affair that he feels he can’t trust what he learned about you on the island. But any way you look at it, and for whatever reason, Jason is just not thinking straight at the moment.”

  Morgan hit her fist into the palm of her other hand, new color and resolution in her face. “Well, that’s just too damned bad, because I’m not going to let Jason get away with ruining what we had between us because of all of this. I won’t let him turn his back on me. On us.”

  “Now you’re talking!” Sami clapped her hands together in excitement. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know exactly, but that man loves me and I love him and somehow I’m going to get him to admit it.”

  Sami jumped up. “I’ve got just the thing to help you. I’ll be right back.”

  Morgan stared sightlessly at Sami’s retreating back, already beginning to plan. Morgan had a history of going after what she wanted—and she was going after Jason.

  It was true that Jason had never said he loved her. But then, words had always seemed so unnecessary between them—their bodies had said it all. In spite of everything, there was only two things to consider: The love she felt for him, and to get him to admit that he felt the same way.”

  Her thoughts were interrupted by Sami bursting back into the room. “Here it is—all you ever wanted to know, but were too indifferent to ask!”

  “What?” Morgan looked blankly down at the book that Sami had thrust into her hand.

  “It’s a book I bought the other day called, 159 Ways To Seduce A Man.”

  “What in the world are you doing with a book like this?” Morgan asked, flipping through the pages. “You’re still a virgin!”

  “I wanted to be ready when the right man comes along,” Sami responded with indisputable logic.

  “Ha! That’ll be the day! Men have been hanging around you since you were a young girl, and you’ve never shown the slightest bit of interest one way or the other.”

  “You’ll see. There’s someone out there just for me, and he’ll come along one of these days.”

  “Well, I want to be there when he does, because you probably won’t recognize him when you do see him.”

  “You’re wrong, Morgan. I’ll know him in an instant.”

  “Could I interest you in David?” Morgan questioned hopefully.

  “No way. I’ll find my own, thank you very much.”

  “Here’s hoping you find one less thickheaded than the one I found,” Morgan muttered and stopped at one of the pages that had a particularly interesting illustration on it. She looked at it one way, then she turned it upside down and looked at it the other way. “There is no way that this can be done,” she finally pronounced. “No one could possibly get into that position.”

  “Let me see.” Sami grabbed the book out of her hands, half closing her eyes to get a different perspective, then turning the book sideways for another view. “Maybe, maybe not. But I bet it sure would be fun to find out.”

  Taking the book out of Sami’s hand, Morgan threw it over her shoulder with reckless self-confidence. “I don’t need that. With as much love as I feel for Jason, I don’t need anything else.”

  Sami looked at her and burst out laughing. “You and I are quite a pair, Morgan—the original poor little rich girls. In different ways, we’ve searched all our lives for love … fighting against the odds … trying our best to be happy.”

  “Yeah, but you know what?” Morgan grinned softly back. “We’ve never given up. Heaven knows we’ve had plenty of discouragement, but we’ve never let anyone beat us yet. And I’m not about to let Jason Falco break my heart!” Morgan put her arms around Sami and hugged her close. “We’re going to be okay. Sami. I’ve found my dream of happiness and I’m not going to let him go. Someday you’ll find yours, too.”

  Chapter Five

  Thinking that even though Jason wouldn’t listen to her explanation in person he might take the time to read a letter, Morgan sat down and proceeded to write her heart out. She explained as best she could how stubborn David had been when she had tried to break off with him, and how she had decided to adopt a neutral route—giving him no encouragement, while at the same time doing her best not to hurt him—until the time David could come to the same conclusion she had. The conclusion being, of course, that it would never work out between them, because they simply didn’t love each other.

  Morgan gave Jason a few days to read the letter and to cool down, hoping against hope that he would call. But he didn’t, and as Morgan saw it, the ball was in her court. She had tried reasoning with his mind. Now maybe it was time to try something else. She made her move.

  One afternoon at precisely 4:55 P.M. Morgan assumed her most businesslike voice and placed a call to Jason’s office.

  “Mr. Falco’s office.”

  Staring across the room at a hanging plant, she crossed her fingers and said the first name that came into her head. “Yes. This is Ms. Ivy Basket. I wonder if it would be possible to see Mr. Falco this afternoon?”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Basket, but Mr. Falco can’t see anyone else today. He plans to get away from the office promptly at 5:30. Perhaps tomorrow sometime?”

  “Thank you.” Morgan smiled her pleasure into the phone at the indiscreet secretary. “I’ll give you a call.”

  Congratulating herself on her success thus far, Morgan put Step Two of her strategy into action. By her calculations, there was a certain spot that Jason had to drive by, in order to get from his office to his apartment, and that was where she headed. Accurately judging the late afternoon traffic, Morgan arrived at the spot on the dot of 5:28.

  Pulling her car to the side of the road and turning off the ignition, she got out and raised the hood, looking at the contents of her car’s engine with considerable interest and almost no knowledge. However, a few months back, she had had some trouble with the car. The culprit had turned out to be a loose battery terminal wire, and her friendly neighborhood mechanic had instructed her to be careful of it. Now her fingers went immediately and unerringly to the wire and loosened it imperceptibly. Complacently assured that everything was going according to plan, she set her sights on the traffic and waited.

 
Fifteen minutes later she was still waiting and her confidence was beginning to waver. A freezing rain had commenced falling and darkness was descending rapidly. Morgan had counted on Jason being able to see her clearly. She had also counted on not having to wait over five minutes for him.

  Standing beside her car, practically out on the road, so that Jason couldn’t possibly miss her, depressing thoughts began to enter Morgan’s head. What if he hadn’t planned on going to his apartment after he left the office? She had just assumed he would. What if he had taken another route? It was entirely possible. What if something had come up at the last minute, and he hadn’t been able to leave the office when he had hoped? It now seemed likely that something must have detained him. Or what if he had left five minutes early?

  “Fine time for you to think of these things now, dummy!” Morgan railed at herself, trying desperately not to think of what her mother would say if she could see her now. Her mother had always stressed the importance of being a lady, and Morgan had a terrible feeling that what she was about to do had nothing to do with being a lady. On the other hand, maybe there were two definitions of the word.

  Rows of impersonal headlights bounced off her shivering figure, one after another. Feeling wet and cold clear through to her skin, Morgan rubbed her hands up and down her arms and tried to quiet the chattering of her teeth. “Jason Falco, where are you?”

  Just then, a car slowed down and pulled off the road a little ahead of her. Excitement raised inside Morgan, and she started toward the dark form of the car. But a strange man rolled down the window and shouted back at her, “Is there anything I can do, lady?”

  Morgan stopped short and called out, trying to sound convincing, “No, thanks anyway, but I’m expecting help any minute now.”

  The man waved and drove off, leaving Morgan staring gloomily after the departing red tail lights. That was the second false alarm. One other man had also stopped to offer help. Glancing at her watch to see that it was nearly six, she gnawed on her lip, trying to figure out what to do, but mostly trying to keep her teeth from hitting together.

  Damn Jason! Who had asked him to sit down beside her on the plane, anyway? Heaven knew she hadn’t, and now because he had, she would most probably die from pneumonia.

  Another set of headlights hit her, passed, then the car braked and pulled off the road. She heard a car door slam, and then, almost immediately, the figure of Jason was towering above her in an unmistakable rage.

  Rage? Morgan thought. She had hoped for concern; at the least, she had expected curiosity; but, she decided practically, she would settle for the rage—just as long as he had finally shown up.

  “I thought it was you! Damn it, Morgan, it’s sleeting. What in the hell are you doing standing out here?”

  Sleeting? Morgan looked around herself in amazement. She had become so numb with the cold that she hadn’t even noticed when the rain had turned to sleet.

  “Well, hi, Jason. Gosh! What a lucky break for me that you happened along. I was beginning to think that no one was going to stop and offer me help.”

  “Don’t you realize how dangerous it is out here? You are standing so close to the road. If any of these passing cars were to lose control, they could run right over you.” He stopped his ranting to glare at her. “What’s the problem anyway?” His glance went past her to the raised hood. “Did your car break down? What’s wrong with it?”

  “I really don’t know. It just quit running.” Morgan shrugged helplessly, trying to bat her eyes, but finding that they must have frozen into a permanent squinting position.

  “That could be anything from the electrical system to an empty gas tank,” he grumbled. “Damn it! I don’t even have a flashlight, and I sure as hell don’t feel like standing out here getting wet. Come on. I’ll take you to your apartment, and you can call a garage from there.”

  “Are—are you sure that it won’t be too much trouble?” she questioned with what she hoped sounded like feminine timidity.

  “It will be nothing but trouble, but I don’t see any way out of it,” he growled.

  Inside the warmth of his car, Morgan found that she really couldn’t stop shaking. It had been part of Step Three to fake being cold, but now it took no effort on her part to ask through chattering teeth, “Jason, won’t we g-get to your apartment before we reach mine?”

  “So?” He wasn’t going to give an inch.

  “C-c-couldn’t we just stop there for a few minutes so that I could get dry. I’m s-soaked to my skin and f-freezing.”

  “It shouldn’t be that much farther to your place,” he argued stonily, “and the car heater is on.”

  “But traffic has gotten much slower since the w-weather has worsened. It’ll take at least fifteen more minutes to get to the warehouse, and I k-know that I’ll get sick if I have to wait that long.”

  Silence was the only thing that greeted her tremulous statement. She prodded. “Isn’t your apartment just up in the next b-block?”

  More silence.

  “Jason, please?” Morgan beseeched and then with absolutely brilliant timing, almost as if on cue, sneezed.

  A curse split suddenly through the warm air in the car. “All right, Morgan. But you’re only staying long enough to get dry and warm. Is that understood?”

  “Why, of course, Jason.”

  Unfortunately, once at his apartment, Jason’s temperament didn’t improve. Morgan didn’t even have time to take in the comfortable elegance of the main room, or the masculine appeal of his bedroom, before Jason shoved a glass of whiskey in her hand and directed curtly, “The bathroom is straight through there. Throw your clothes out when you get them off and I’ll put them in the dryer.”

  “You want me to take my clothes off?” Morgan screwed her face into a befuddled expression that she hoped Jason would find appealing and funny; she finally managed to bat her eyes successfully, red-rimmed though they must be.

  “What else do you suggest?” Jason was almost gnashing his teeth. “By the time you’ve finished with your shower, your clothes should be just about dry. Use my robe, wait in the bedroom and I’ll bring you the clothes when they’re ready.”

  Despite her genuine discomfort, Morgan could hardly keep from laughing. Poor Jason. She had banked on him not being able to pass her on the road once he had seen that she needed help, and then not to let her suffer when he realized she might get sick. She had been entirely right. So far, everything was going perfectly and Step Four was about to begin.

  Morgan entered the black, gold and chrome of his bathroom and stripped off her clothes, not bothering to shut the door. Tossing them invitingly through the opening, she turned on the shower as hot as she could stand it and got in, making a face, as she heard the bathroom door slam decisively shut. Jason Falco was definitely a hard nut to crack.

  Morgan knew she couldn’t stay in the shower long if his dryer was as fast as he had indicated. Nevertheless, she took a moment to luxuriate in the warmth of the steam billowing around her and to enjoy the feel of the hot water streaming down her body, slowly defrosting every cell.

  Until she had met Jason, Morgan had never been particularly aware of her body, one way or the other. Now she discovered that she was very conscious of how her body responded to the touch and texture of things around it—most particularly to the touch and texture of Jason.

  But knowing that she couldn’t afford to daydream too long, she lathered her hair with a rich shampoo she had discovered on a conveniently-placed shelf, quickly rinsed it and got out of the shower.

  Finding Jason’s bathrobe with no trouble, she tried it on with a grimace of distaste. There was too much of it. It just wouldn’t do. Shrugging out of it, she seized instead a fresh black velour towel, deciding it would fit in much better with her plan, and wrapped it loosely around herself. She left her hair wet, combed back and lying shiningly over her bare shoulders, and her skin glowed translucently against the vivid black velvet of the towel. Not bad, Morgan decided, saluting herself in
the mirror with the glass of whiskey, and downed the contents, reflecting ruefully that, since meeting Jason, she had certainly changed from being an almost complete teetotaler.

  Walking silently on bare feet into the living room, she paused for a moment, locating Jason. He was slouched on a stool with his forearms resting on the bar. Staring broodingly into a glass of something, he appeared far away in thought.

  Yet he must have sensed her presence, for suddenly he whirled around, stopping the motion of the stool when he saw her. His face turned even stonier, if that were possible. He seemed as cold as the ice storm that was raging outside, and Morgan wondered despairingly if she would ever be able to thaw him.

  Resting his body back against the bar in an arrogant attitude of ease, so that he was practically lying on the edge of the stool with his legs apart, Jason watched insolently, as Morgan sauntered leisurely across the room to him, the sinuous motion of her hips thrusting alluringly against the towel.

  “Why aren’t you wearing the bathrobe?” he demanded gruffly.

  “I found it,” she answered truthfully, “but it just didn’t fit. It wrapped around me about three times and dragged the floor.” She turned away from his probing stare and began wandering around the room, curious to see the kind of things with which Jason surrounded himself.

  Jason was a rich man, yet he lived in a relatively small apartment, expensively and tastefully furnished though it was. There could be all kinds of reasons. The most obvious one was that he was a single man who was constantly on the go and who didn’t have a lot of free time to spend in a home.

  Picking up items that caught her fancy, Morgan examined them, pondering on their possible history in Jason’s life, and then put each one down, feeling the towel slip a little more with every movement of her body. In one corner of the room she found a heavily cut crystal bowl in a prominent position on an antique etagere and containing a large assortment of richly colored marbles. Fingering one of them, Morgan looked back at Jason, trying to envision a man who had perhaps started collecting marbles when he was a boy and had continued the practice into adulthood. She saw a muscle working at the side of his cheek and his eyes were nearly black, but at this point it was hard to tell whether it was with anger or passion.