The Seduction of Jason

by Fayrene Preston

  “Morgan!” Jason spoke for the first time.

  “Yes, Jason?” She scooted right up against him and smiled her most seductive smile.

  “Would you folks like a drink before dinner, this evening?” The question came from their waiter, who had arrived opportunely, thus saving Morgan from hearing what Jason had been about to say. Actually, she didn’t need to hear it. She could see from his face that he was coldly furious. But then, Morgan reflected philosophically, he seemed to stay that way lately.

  “Oh, that sounds great.” Morgan took over. “What would you like to drink, Melinda?”

  “I’ll have a strawberry daiquiri.”

  “A strawberry daiquiri,” Morgan repeated, managing to infuse the words with a slight interest and, at the same time, a faint disdain. She turned to the waiter. “I’ll have a Scotch. No water. No ice.”

  After the men had given their orders, an uncomfortable silence fell among the four people, leaving it to Jason to say, “Morgan … Melinda and I have some things to talk about this evening.”

  “Oh, that’s perfectly all right. We don’t mind. Do we Jerome?”

  “Nope.”

  “Don’t you worry about us.” Morgan patted Jason’s knee, receiving immense enjoyment from the involuntary flinch he gave. “You two just go ahead and talk about whatever it is you need to talk about, and we’ll just sit here and be quiet as two little mice. We won’t be bored at all. Isn’t that right, Jerome?”

  “That’s right, Morgan.”

  Morgan took a moment to look narrowly at Jerome, but then switched her gaze to the woman beside him. “And speaking of not being bored, our holiday in Martinique was simply marvelous, wasn’t it Jason?” Morgan again lay her hand on Jason’s knee, this time keeping it there. However, after a sideways peek at his face, she very prudently shifted her eyes back to Melinda, deciding not to take too many chances at once.

  Continuing her monologue, while at the same time moving her hand in unhurried, small spirals up Jason’s leg, she confided to the other woman. “The place was a virtual paradise for lovers.”

  Melinda looked down her nose at Morgan. “Really?”

  The woman had a definite attitude problem, Morgan decided. “Oh, yes. The days were a seduction in themselves, but the nights. Well, words fail me when I think about the moonlit Caribbean nights we spent there …” Jason’s leg had gone quite tense under her hand. She glanced quickly at him and saw a man who had ceased to breathe.

  When her hand had nearly reached the top of his leg, she paused there for a couple of seconds, pressing her fingers into the hard flesh beneath the material of his slacks. Then she lightly dragged her nails back down his thigh to his knee, where she started the stroking all over again—only this time even slower.

  “And then there was the day we took the ferry across Fort-de-France bay and drove around the southern coast of the island to see the H.M.S. Diamond Rock. I tell you, Melinda, it was amazing. This hard rock, just lying there in the afternoon sunshine.” Morgan reached the top of Jason’s thigh and stopped there once more, dallying, giving him ample reason to wonder whether she was going to go any farther.

  Evidently Jason decided not to take the risk. Even though there wasn’t much room between him and the wall, he shifted over a little, managing, without being too obvious, to break their contact. There wasn’t much he could do without creating a scene, and Morgan had an intuitive feeling that he didn’t want to do that in front of Melinda.

  Undaunted, Morgan lowered her voice to a huskily erotic pitch. “It made my heart beat faster just to think of how engorged in history that rock is—standing so erect, five hundred seventy-five feet high.”

  As she spoke, her fingers began walking across the booth seat toward Jason. However, he must have been keeping an eye out, for his hand came down on top of hers with, what she privately felt was an unnecessary force. Nevertheless, it was better than not being touched by him at all, and her hand went limp under his.

  It was impossible to miss the immediate surge of electricity that seemed to jump from his hand to hers upon contact. And, Morgan reasoned, if she was feeling it, so was he. Jason started to pull away, apparently relieved that she was offering no resistance to him, but Morgan quickly turned her hand over and linked her fingers securely through his. Now he couldn’t get away.

  A mini tug of war ensued under the table, with Jason trying to jerk his hand away, and Morgan pulling it back, as she continued speaking.

  “It’s stimulating just to think of how tightly those British sailors heeeeld it” —the word “held” was more forcefully emphasized than Morgan had intended, because Jason had chosen that moment to give a particularly vicious tug—” for eighteen months during the Napoleonic Wars.”

  Looking at Jerome, Morgan saw that his cheeks were flushed and he was intently studying the ceiling, but Melinda seemed to be hanging on Morgan’s every word, torn between trying to figure out what she was talking about and being worried about the expression on Jason’s face.

  “England has actually commissioned it as a British sloop of war, and I think it’s inspiring how that rock has become a symbol of their patriotism.” Morgan leveled her blue-green eyes straight into Melinda’s brown ones, and her voice took on a strong note of conviction. “I admire the courage and the passion of those men to defend that which is theirs!”

  With the hand that Morgan didn’t have control of, Jason was holding his glass of whiskey so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. He raised his glass unsteadily to his lips and took a long swig.

  “And the rain forest. Well, what can I say about the rain forest … except perhaps that it was the climax of our whole trip.”

  Jason spewed his drink back into his glass. Grabbing her hand, he pushed her out of the booth with the impetus of his body. “Excuse us,” he bit out to Melinda and Jerome. “Morgan and I are going to dance.”

  Once out on the dance floor, Jason took her stiffly in his arms. “You’re not being very damned subtle, Morgan.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be.”

  “Well, I for one would be extremely interested to know what you are trying to do.”

  “I’m attempting to get you to remember what it was like between us, so that you’ll realize—”

  “Remember! Why would I want to remember what amounted to nothing more than a cheap affair with an equally cheap woman, who can no doubt be had by just about anyone who wants her. After all,” he drawled cruelly, “If you recall, I had no trouble whatsoever in picking you up.”

  A pain stabbed deep into Morgan’s heart. One part of her brain was screaming out in despair that Jason could say such a thing—but the other part of her brain was saying, “Don’t give up. He’s lashing out at you in blind anger, in an attempt to convince himself of what he’s saying, as well as you.”

  “That was no common pick-up, Jason! What we had between us was uncommonly and utterly extraordinary, and I won’t let you pretend otherwise.”

  Morgan didn’t know whether it was her words or the hurt tone of her voice that got through to Jason. Whatever it was, he relented. “You’re right, and I apologize. It’s just that you make me so crazy! Why can’t you just give up and leave me alone?”

  Jason’s hold on her relaxed somewhat and she managed to burrow against him, relishing the instant response she felt leap from his body. “You know what the trouble with us is?”

  “What?” he asked hoarsely, apparently curious despite himself.

  “We’re not alone. I miss the sound of your voice, the touch of your hands, the deepness of your laugh.” She paused, looking up at him wistfully. “We did have fun together, didn’t we, Jason?”

  “Yes,” he admitted grudgingly.

  “It’s important for two people who are in love to be able to have fun together. But there are other things, too. I want you near me once more, to feel you against me—”

  “Morgan, for God’s sake! Stop it!” He gave her a jerk to emphasize what he was saying, but he
had jerked her closer to him, although that was obviously not what he had intended.

  On some level, she must be reaching him. Maybe at the moment it was only his body, but somewhere deep inside, Jason had to know that he loved her. She just had to get him to admit it, and Morgan prayed with everything she had in her that very soon now, she would be successful.

  “Take Melinda home and come to me,” she whispered softly into his ear, trying to keep the shakiness out of her voice. “Remember that perfect night when we first made love in my cottage? There was only the moon, the sweet fragrance of frangipani and the two of us. It can be that way again, Jason. I’ll turn out all the lamps in my apartment. I have some frangipani scented candles, and I’ll light them. We can drink rum punch as we did on the island and discuss this problem, work it out and find a solution. Then we can make love the whole night through; we can talk and laugh and make love till the sun rises, and into the early daylight if you want.” Lightly brushing against Jason, she reveled at the sound of his sharply indrawn breath, as she felt him fight for composure.

  Regardless of whether they were angry at each other, there was always this fierce heat that ran between them. Surely, nothing could be as important as their love for one another. Jason must see that!

  “I have no intention of taking Melinda home,” he groaned huskily, holding her tightly to him despite himself. “She is something you’ll never be, Morgan. She doesn’t lie or cheat the people who care about her.”

  “Melinda doesn’t turn you on like I do, Jason. I bet she’s never lain beneath you in a rain forest—”

  “Shut up, Morgan!”

  “You’ve got to understand. There’s no one else but you. Please believe me.” Her words were laced with quiet desperation.

  “My brother doesn’t lie.”

  “Where is David?” she asked, upset with herself that she hadn’t thought of it before. “Let’s go to him, talk this problem out between the three of us. Whatever misunderstandings there are, I’m sure they can be cleared up.”

  “David is someplace where you can’t get hold of him, and he’s going to stay there until I think he’s over you.”

  “I want to talk to him, Jason. We need to get things straightened out, once and for all, so that you and I can get on with our life together.”

  Jason pushed her away from him. His face had gone pale and his teeth were clenched. “Pay attention to me, Morgan, because I want to make myself perfectly clear. Stay away from David and stay away from me. I don’t want to see you or have anything to do with you ever again. Martinique was a mistake, but it won’t be repeated.”

  He started off the dance floor, but Morgan grabbed him, catching him off balance and pulling him back to her. People around them had begun to stare, but Morgan spoke loud enough for only Jason to hear. “Now it’s your turn to pay attention to me, Jason Falco. I love you, and sooner or later you’re going to have to admit that you love me, too. Call me, any time of the day or night, and I’ll come to you, wherever you are. I’ll be waiting. I want you to remember that, to think about it when you’re lying in bed at night by yourself, and you’re aching so badly for me that you can’t sleep. Think about it—and remember it.”

  She strode past him to the booth and grabbed her coat and purse. “Come on, Jerome, we’re going.”

  Jason had come up behind her, and, not even bothering to say goodnight to Melinda, Morgan turned to look at him one more time. Her eyes were a brilliant blue-green and they flashed her desire for him, unmistakably and openly. Jason swallowed convulsively, not able to look away, and then Morgan turned, walked out of the back room, down the long hallway and out into the cool blast of the night air.

  “Wait up, Morgan,” Jerome called. “For heaven sakes, put your coat on or you’ll freeze to death.”

  Morgan stopped. “Lord help me. You’re right, and it would be just like Jason to bring Melinda to my funeral.”

  “Yeah, and you’d be ‘just too dead’ to do anything about it.”

  Putting her coat on, she sighed morosely, “Either I’m losing my sense of humor, or your jokes are getting worse, Jerome.”

  “I’m only trying to cheer you up.”

  “I know and I appreciate it, too, but I’m absolutely miserable! I can’t believe what I just did. I don’t know who was the most surprised or embarrassed—me, Jason or Melinda.”

  “I think I’d have to say Jason. You didn’t look at him that often—”

  “I didn’t dare.”

  “—but it appeared suspiciously as if he were blushing a time or two.”

  “I thought I could do something like that and not feel any shame or remorse afterwards, but now I’m not so sure. It’s just that I get so mad at that dumb, stupid, stubborn, self-righteous man.”

  “I gather you’re no better off than before.”

  Morgan paused and then smiled with sudden insight, a little more sure of herself. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m like a sculptor who spends all of his time chipping patiently away on a material of his choice to form a work of art. That’s what I’m doing. I’m slowly chiseling away the stone from around Jason. Soon I’ll reach his heart, and when that happens, I will have re-created something awesomely beautiful—Jason’s and my love for one another.”

  Walking slowly toward her car, Morgan noticed that they were passing Jason’s car. “Walt a minute!”

  “Now what?”

  “Just a little insurance to make sure that Jason thinks of me while he’s taking the beauteous Melinda home.” She delved through her purse to get the atomizer of perfume Jason had bought for her. Luckily he hadn’t locked his car door. Opening it, she sprayed a generous amount of the perfume into every corner of the car, knowing that the porous leather of the upholstery would absorb the scent and that it would be a long time before the smell of her would be completely gone from his car—and his mind.

  #

  During the next few days, Morgan found herself again questioning her actions. Even though she had had the satisfaction of breaking up Jason’s date, she couldn’t seem to keep away the guilt she felt at the way she had done it. And being an honest and candid person, she finally admitted to herself that maybe it was time for an apology.

  Picking up the phone to call him, she decided upon an open and direct approach.

  “Jason Falco’s office.”

  “This is Morgan Saunders. I was wondering if it would be possible to see Mr. Falco this afternoon?”

  “No, Ms. Saunders, I’m sorry, but it isn’t.”

  “Well, then, can I speak with him?”

  “I’m afraid not. You see, he didn’t come in today.”

  “He’s out of town?”

  “No. I’m sorry to say he came down with a cold and has been feeling really terrible. He left early yesterday afternoon.”

  “You mean he’s home sick?”

  “That’s right. Can I set up an appointment for you later in the week?”

  “No. Thank you anyway.” Morgan hung up and mulled over this new piece of information. Jason had been working too hard. She had noticed the lines of tiredness in his face at Paddy’s and Company, but at the time she had been so upset with him for being with another woman that she hadn’t given it much thought.

  Now, however, her heart went out to him. She wanted to go to him, to take care of him, to make him feel better. So she did exactly that.

  It was almost dark by the time she reached Jason’s apartment. Since both her hands were full, she kicked on his door. He didn’t answer, so she kicked a little harder. Still no answer. Visions of him lying unconscious raced through her head. She kicked loud enough to raise the dead, plus most of their neighbors, and this time he did answer.

  Opening the door, he yelled, “Stop that infernal noise!”

  Clutching her packages, Morgan pushed her way past him and then turned to observe worriedly.

  “You look awful.” He appeared feverish, with red and watery eyes and a nose that was swollen from blowing it too
much. “And you need more clothes on,” she scolded gently, viewing the bare legs and feet that were sticking out from under his bathrobe.

  “I wasn’t exactly expecting company,” he snapped sarcastically. “What in the hell are you doing here, Morgan?”

  “I heard you were sick, and I wanted to help you.”

  “Then leave.”

  “I stopped off at a restaurant and picked up some good homemade chicken soup,” she told him, hoping to tempt him. “Sami sent an herbal tea concoction for you, and Jerome sent the makings for several hot toddys.”

  “You’re wrong—” he started to say.

  “You know, you’re right,” Morgan considered thoughtfully, kicking the door shut. “I think it was Sami who sent the hot toddy makings and Jerome who sent the herbal tea.”

  “Morgan!”

  “You shouldn’t be standing here, Jason,” she admonished with real concern. “Come on, let me help you into bed.”

  “That’s what you’ve been trying to do ever since we got back from Martinique.” His words were muffled behind the pillowcase he held up to his nose. “But you’re not going to be successful.”

  “My intentions are strictly honorable,” Morgan promised gravely, as she began pushing him in the direction of the bedroom. “Your virtue is safe.”

  But once there, Morgan gave a cry of alarm. “Jason, this place is a mess. And that bed. You can’t get any real rest in that. The sheets are dirty and the covers are thrown every which way.”

  “I alternate between being either too hot or too cold,” he mumbled from behind the pillowcase. “I can’t seem to get comfortable. I ache all over. I don’t feel good.”

  “Look, while I change the sheets, why don’t you go take a hot shower. It’ll make you feel better and at the same time perhaps open up your stuffy head.”

  “I don’t want to.” He sounded like a recalcitrant child.

  Morgan turned to find that Jason had slumped down into a chair. “Can’t is more like it. Honestly, Jason. Why didn’t you call and tell me you were sick and needed help.”