Tonight was never going to be forever, so she could be someone she wasn't. Tonight she was flirtatious and fun, not studious and reserved.
This hotel, a blend of art deco of the 1920s meets ancient Italian villa, was one of the finest in the country. The paintings on the wall promised a fairy tale where fantasies came true. Exquisite angels etched in the walls watched over her as she called the elevator to take her down to the lobby.
She had a date with one of the mortal gods on this Earth. Fate decreed they both stayed at this hotel. Life, wherever she ended up, would never be a fairy tale. For once, she was transported into another world. Perhaps she'd even get to find out what her crush tasted like.
As the elevators opened she spotted John from across the hall. He hadn't seen her so she studied him. He wore gray pants, a fresh white button-down shirt, and as always his hair was flawless. She glimpsed his blue eyes in profile.
Heat inched up her back. Then he half-turned, and his smile widened the moment he saw her. Her arms grew goose bumps. They could each be somebody else. She swung her hips as she stepped toward him.
Her feet itched to run, but she knew better. She slowed her pace to seem in control, but halfway there she barely missed the bellboy's luggage cart. Alice ducked—her big opening scene almost ruined. Then she laughed at herself. So much for those lessons on deportment that Victoria imparted from her actual etiquette lessons.
She gazed at John. His blue eyes stared right at her. She stopped laughing, but then he broke into a small laugh. She turned her head to the side to hide her giggles.
Without another incident she made her way to where he waited. As she stared up, his bright smile dimpled with approval. Her heart beat just for him. He took her hands in his and squeezed lightly. The skin he touched on her body sparked like she was a firework, though he simply said, "You look amazing, Alice."
He towered over her, exuding pure male testosterone. He hugged her and kissed her cheek, which was how everyone in Miami greeted each other, and never meant anything. Her skin tingled again. Then she caught a whiff of cedar and… gunpowder. She wiggled her nose to be sure. The scent was unmistakable. Then she crossed her arms. "Why do you smell like a gun?"
"I do?"
She swallowed. "Yeah, you do."
Silence hung in the air, but she expected an answer.
He stared hard at her. "How do you know what a gun smells like?"
This wasn't happening. He hadn't answered. She'd better not be on a date with a man who became a mafia's boss—and he hadn't inherited his father's evil personality. Her gaze narrowed. "I grew up in the country, where sometimes animals need to be put down. What is it you do? And don't lie. It's got to be something serious for you to smell like that."
"I shouldn't tell you." He peeked around the room and avoided her stare. She licked her lips. Otherwise she stayed still. John Morgan was not the billionaire rebel without a clue. His cheeks reddened. The color in his cheeks showed he was in the prime of his life. Then he leaned down. Her heart did a pitter-patter as he whispered in her ear, "I spent the past three years in the FBI, so I practically sleep with my gun."
"You work as a government agent?" She kept her voice low too. "Your father cursed the fact my dad served and that my brother went off to serve." Memories surfaced of how Mitch Morgan vocally hated all forms of government agents.
"I remember your dad mentioning Colt's choice to go to basic training. I'm sorry you heard my father's rantings."
His father didn't matter. Safety did. John was a man of integrity and honor. Her lips craved to brush against his. "How did your family feel about this?"
With a shrug, he said, "I don't want to talk about Dad tonight."
True. The man had stolen enough of their day already, but her curiosity continued. "He couldn't have been happy you chose to serve your country."
"He threatened to cut me off."
"Did he?"
"No, but he should have. I didn't touch a dime once I left."
"He used money to keep you on a leash."
"You understand too much." Then he shook his head. "The money doesn't drive me or matter."
She swallowed. It was impossible that a Morgan would walk away from the dynasty. In her own family, she couldn't walk away from the farm entirely, though she refused to ever touch a crop again, unless it was to help in an emergency. Her parents sacrificed everything for her and she'd do the same for them. "Then why did you come back?"
"Because Peter asked."
Peter and John were all each other had. She kept the thought to herself. With a shrug, she followed him to the restaurant. "So? If Colt wants me to do something I don't want, then it doesn't happen."
The hostess took his name and gave him a buzzer. On their way back outside, he whispered, "I needed to see with my own eyes. If my father is dead there is no way to take him down."
"Was that why you joined the FBI?"
"Absolutely."
"Oh. I didn't make that connection."
A conversation over dinner about his father was the opposite of fun. Besides, she needed to learn a few things in the here and now. Peter Morgan was the mystery to her—four years her senior, he'd never been home all those years she spent with Victoria. "Is Peter like your father?"
John brought her to the terrace where people sat with their drinks. The live music drifted in the open air as he answered, "I hope not. He's being kind, but he wants something and he's mentioned the will reading. I don't know how ruthless he is. I might remember wrong, or he might have changed."
He led them to a corner with black metal tables and chairs and fewer people to wait for their dinner buzzer to go off.
"What does that mean?"
He held out her chair and a sigh escaped her lips as she noticed the taper candles near the small vase of flowers. "I don't know, but he wants control of the business empire."
Everyone knew Peter had spent years in training to take over the House of Morgan. Her brain couldn't quite wrap around that John took off to be a government agent.
"What do you want?"
He lifted his finger for the waitress to come to their table as he showed off his cute dimples. "You."
Did he? Her face heated as she clutched her hands together under the table.
The waitress came over and John told her, "The Riesling. Alice has always enjoyed sweet."
She massaged her wrist to stop trembling. He remembered her sweet tooth.
The waitress left to get the bottle of wine.
Alice fixed her hair behind her ears, leaning close enough to John to sniff cedar, pine, and subtle gun residue. John was sexy before, but now he upheld the law. His untouchable hotness level skyrocketed. Her skin ached for him. "You avoided the discussion," she said. "I don't understand how a man such as yourself would take a job that doesn't pay nearly as much as you have in your bank accounts."
He tipped his head and her heart raced.
"How did you smell the gunpowder? I just bought these clothes."
"I like the shirt." The change of conversation didn't sway her, but his investigation technique needed work. She didn't feel pressured in the slightest. His broad shoulders could make a trash bag sexy. Her body melted like ice cream on a hot summer day. He'd leave soon, but he could have anything he wanted from her. The waitress came back with the bottle of wine and two glasses.
Alice waited for him to pour with her hands under her legs. She tried to calm her heartbeat so she'd sound almost normal. "I don't know." He set her glass before her. "You're supposed to smell like cedar and pine trees."
He stopped mid-sip. "I'm supposed to smell like a tree?"
"No. No." She shook her head. So much for smooth. She massaged the back of her neck with one hand and picked up her wine glass with the other.
She gulped some wine, grateful she could swallow. The liquid only made her peek at John again and fall deeper under his spell. Slowly, her temperature grew and her gaze wandered to the hotel door. Air conditioning might hel
p. "It's how I remember you smelled. Reminds me of home, I guess."
Silence hung in the air, leaving her empty and vulnerable. He sipped his white wine, his gaze unreadable. Coldness seeped through her and sent a shiver down her back. This was the worst moment in her life. "Alice, why do you remember so much about me?"
Her face heated, which countered the ice in her neck, but her brain didn't quite work. She was light-headed. If she fainted, would the nightmare of this moment end? Not with her luck. I have to tell the truth. She leaned forward. "You were my first kiss."
Clearly shocked, his mouth fell open. Her breath stuck in her throat. The earth needed to swallow her right now. He placed his drink on a cocktail napkin and her nerves tingled. Then he put his forearms on the table. "What do you mean?"
There was no escape. No earthquakes appeared to save her. She placed her hands over his. He had to remember that moment as it was burned into her dreams. "It didn't mean anything to you. I knew that then. I accidentally moved my face, and you kissed my lips instead of my cheek. At that time, I didn't know what to do and I opened my mouth."
His entire face gazed so intensely at her that she lost her ability to think. He had no idea what she was talking about. She ought to go jump in the pool fully clothed and cool off. Granted she'd only been fourteen, but the memory was seared into her mind.
To avoid him, she gulped a second glass of wine and said nothing. There was nothing else to say. The special moment was destroyed, so she pushed away from the table. "I should probably go back to my room."
"Wait." He squeezed her hand. "We were at Vizcaya for Vicki's birthday party. I had no idea it meant so much to you."
She inhaled and scooted closer. He remembered! She took her hand back from him and clutched her necklace. "You remember?"
He tilted his face so they were inches apart. "You tasted like strawberries."
At the farm, she always ate strawberry something. He remembered her taste? Her mind was mush. To avert her gaze she turned her head and tried to stop her limbs from shaking. For one second she needed to breathe like a normal person. "We grow them on the farm."
Without a word, he picked up his drink and studied her. His perusal felt different from other men. There was no way she was worldly enough for a man like John.
Then a smile that shined like the sun appeared on his face and brought out those dimples as he leaned back in his chair. "I didn't know it was your first kiss. I'd have made it more special."
Her gaze flew to his, and the gleam in his eye made her feel like she was the only woman on the planet. "That would have been more awkward, and I was already embarrassed."
The buzzer on the table reverberated. He picked it up and took her elbow. "Don't be embarrassed. I was the luckiest guy that day, and I didn't even realize it."
If he thought like that, then tonight would end with fireworks and explosions. "Really?"
"Yeah," he said. "You had just had a fight with your dad or something. Shall we go to dinner?"
Her hotel room would be quieter. She would have been happy to skip dinner but he seemed intent on a meal. He lifted her to her feet as she scooted back her chair. His hand brushed the base of her spine. This was it. Her body trembled for his hand against her naked body as he escorted her into the dining room.
"I'm glad I came home," he said.
They waited for the hostess to show them to a table, and John held her seat for her. She'd told him her feelings and he'd responded. It wasn't her imagination—John was flirting with her. She had to read this right. After the funeral, they'd go their separate ways, but for tonight, she'd be his Cinderella. She traced her throat with her forefinger. "Why?"
"You." He slid into the seat opposite her.
A shiver of pleasure overwhelmed her. She lowered her eyes and giggled. Her nerves were getting in the way. She'd never be sophisticated. "The Morgan charm."
His hand went across the table and brushed against hers. "What?"
She picked up her drink. More memories played in her mind like a movie as she remembered the House of Morgan and how Vicki went to charm school. She tilted her head. "Did you get lessons in how to be charming?"
For a second, his face lost all traces of that guard that was so high and jaded. Then his sexy dimples came back and his smile was simple and pure. "No. I just like seeing you blush. Do the boys in the country not compliment you?"
She slid her drink back on the table and winked at him. "Not like you do."
Without warning, he scooted his chair closer to hers. "Alice Collins, if you keep looking at me like that, then I'm going to kiss you."
Yes. Her mouth fell open. He couldn't mean that. It was what she'd always wanted. Her entire body felt light and airy, but despite her dreams, she'd never actually drag John to her bed or anywhere. It wasn't who she was. Despite her claims, she couldn't pretend to be that much of someone else. She averted her gaze. "It's way too soon."
He leaned closer, across their seats. Every second disappeared and time went still. Her heart beat wildly. Then his nose brushed hers. "Then turn away."
She closed her eyes. Fairy tales weren't real and she needed to respect herself in the morning. "I can't."
His arms circled her waist. Nothing else existed in the world except them. Her body ached for his touch, all over. This was fate. Then his lips met hers. The featherlike brush against hers melted everything. This was heaven. His lips tasted like a fine wine or candy, but a million times more succulent.
Chapter 6
John thought Alice's strawberry-scented hair matched the sweetness of her kiss as he pulled away from her mouth and leaned back in his chair.
He was under some spell and not himself tonight. With her, the world was fresh and clean. He gazed into Alice's light blue eyes and felt like he was in a dream where he was safe, and no one judged him. Though she'd compared him to a tree, Alice gave him a sense of home and belonging.
There was no other choice but to go slow with her. Her entire body begged him to take her right here and now, but he wouldn't. He ran his hands through his hair and tried to regain his control.
The music from the terrace wafted into the restaurant. Sitting across from Alice felt like he belonged somewhere. He tried to breathe.
She fingered her gold pendant, saying something he didn't catch. His gaze returned to her sweet lips as she unfolded her napkin and placed it on her lap. He pictured kissing the parts she hid under her black dress.
She leaned across the table and kissed him. Without intention, he opened his lips, and tugged her close.
Steel drums beat in his ear, and he questioned if it was his heartbeat. He let go of her chin as the waitress came over.
"John, I don't know what to say."
Whatever had prompted those words would remain a mystery. The tingle of her kiss lingered on his lips. At least she couldn't hear his thoughts. She would run away. He sat back and crossed his arms. "I don't either. Alice, I'm in the middle of changing my entire life."
She scooted her seat in across from him. The distance of the round table between them was good. "Okay. Don't worry about it." She shrugged. "Tonight is a fantasy."
Fantasies and Alice were a dangerous combination. Forget dinner. It had been a bad idea to spend time with her. The trouble was, if he went anywhere near her room, he wouldn't let her go. The thought scared him. Alice reminded him of a dream he never had. She was the only thing he'd touched in years that was warm and inviting. "The funeral is on my mind."
"Of course it is. Despite everything, he was your father and the only parent you had."
"I don't want my dark thoughts to ruin your night too. Maybe once we finish our meal, I should let you go back to your room."
She toyed with her water glass, but then her lips puckered. "Don't run away on my account."
She knew him. Her comments about home earlier hit him in the gut. Alice's kiss made his body soar, and if he took her, then it would be forever. But eternity wasn't a possibility for him. In his ever
yday life, vengeance ruled him and he held onto too much anger to ruin a girl like her.
Breaking with the FBI wasn't as simple as handing in his badge and figuring out a financial position. He finished his drink and then said, "It's dangerous for me to involve myself in your life."
A brush of her hands on his pumped up his adrenaline. "Who said involved? It was just a kiss."
"A moment ago you were reserved." There was no way for her to know. She didn't understand. He gazed into her light blue eyes as she sipped her wine and then took her hand. "Alice, don't be someone you're not, for me or for anyone. You are too good for me."
Her eyes watered as she said, "You are being dramatic."
The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. "Don't brush off how we feel right now. We both know where this leads."
"Then don't turn this moment into something it doesn't have to be. Just relax."
Relaxing wasn't going to happen near her. Alice Collins was sexy, and he didn't think she saw that. Back when Vicki was alive he must have been truly self-delusional, or blind. She'd been in front of his face the whole time. One moment with her might be worth a lifetime of possibilities.
He pulled his hands back to his lap. Tonight, he'd respect her. His sister's memory should mean that Alice was off limits. The heat under his collar grew. Every inch of him craved her. He stood up and offered his hand. "Dance?"
She blinked in surprise, but then she smiled like he'd picked her off the bleachers for the school dance. He shook off the thought and helped her up—her hand stayed in his. "Okay. I want to be in your arms."
For the dance only. He kept his lips pressed together.
With his rapt attention on her, she fixed her hair behind her ears and let him lead. Her body had curves, and her hand fit in his perfectly. He'd claim the life he wanted and when he was settled and secured, he'd keep Alice for a lifetime.
They found their positions on the dance floor where salsa music wafted in the air. He wrapped his arms around her perfectly shaped body and closed his eyes to breathe in the hint of strawberries. He led her in the dance. "You are one of those women, aren't you?"
[House of Morgan 01.0 - 03.0] Boxed Set Page 5