[House of Morgan 01.0 - 03.0] Boxed Set

by Victoria Pinder

  "You'll be free again as soon as we catch the shooter."

  She looked out over the dark bay. "I have to go home tomorrow."

  "It might not be possible."

  Turning toward him with a pleading expression, she blinked against his hypnotic blue gaze. "If I can't go by myself, then you have to take me."

  "Why?"

  One moment with John and her mother in the same room would kill any amorous thoughts he might have toward her. Perhaps then she could be friends with him, but Alice wouldn't be another random woman in his bed. "Because I don't want to alienate my family the way yours is."

  He slipped out of his black suit jacket. "My world has spun on its heels."

  His world and her world had collided and Alice lost her own sense of balance. He came closer to her. She stepped backwards and placed her hands behind her back. "Did you join the FBI to punish your father?"

  He unbuttoned the bottom of his shirt near his wrists. "You ask too many questions. But yeah, I wanted to arrest Mitch."

  She smiled and waited to see his dimples in return. When she saw those cute indentations, she nodded. "Tell my mom about your job if you have to take me home tomorrow."

  She should stay with him indefinitely and not tell her mother anything. He loosened his black tie. "Alice, we're not really together—why am I explaining anything to your mother?"

  Her mother was her friend, and by next week Alice would be free of parental interference like most twenty-somethings. Besides, her mother only became prickly when the Morgan name was mentioned. She was usually cool as a cucumber. "Because if you intend to keep me here we have to tell her why, and if she knows that you are an FBI agent, that will ease her mind. I don't want her worried someone might shoot me because of you."

  He undid the top button of his shirt. "Then I'll tell her we're getting married."

  The House of Morgan and her family would never blend. Her face heated. Her mother might pass out cold. "Don't you dare. My mom has old-fashioned ideas on forever."

  His eyebrow quirked and his dimples grew wider. "Why not?"

  She tried to untangle her legs to prove she wasn't stuck permanently in one spot. This made her sway. "Marriage isn't something you should joke about."

  He crossed his arms and stared at her. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

  She shrugged and mimicked his body language. "What if I did?"

  "Then I'd have to prove he's the wrong choice."

  Her jaw dropped. John Morgan could have any girl he'd ever desire and last night he'd turned her down. She'd not repeat that scene. Her eyebrows quirked. "And you're the right one?"

  He rubbed his temples like he was confused. "Don't spin this conversation."

  "You're bringing up marriage and my love life." Her arms flew outward, away from her as she anchored her feet into the ground. "And I'm not. You frustrate me."

  "I'd rather kiss you."

  She slipped out of her high heels as she gripped the edge of the table. "I can't. Not until I can center myself without swaying like the wind can push me around. You confuse me."

  He let out his own breath. "That makes two of us."

  She needed space and a bucket of ice to cool her heated body down. "John, where is my bedroom? I should go."

  He gestured toward a long hall. "I don't know. I never lived here. Pick whatever you want."

  She turned and started down the massive mansion hall that might rival the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles. Again, this house was a showpiece and not a home. The coldness returned. She rubbed her arms and let her body cool. "Which one is yours so I don't take that one?"

  He shrugged. "I've never slept here, so I don't have one."

  She refused to turn around and stare at him. Instead, she took one step forward and glanced at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were rosy. He saw how she reacted.

  She carried her heels by two fingers, her soles cool against the marble floor. She turned her head to the side and called out, "I need twenty minutes to close my eyes and lose my headache."

  "Dinner will be here when you're hungry, Alice."

  She opened the second door and slipped into a bedroom. She closed the door behind her and rested her head on the wood. She'd never survive staying here for more than one night. Her crush on John Morgan needed to fizzle out as fast as it sparked back. She hadn't thought about him since he left for college years ago, and now she was out of control.

  The offer of that kiss had her lips tingling with desire. She wouldn't kiss him again, but her body ached to do so much more.

  Chapter 12

  An hour later, a Morgan security guard dropped off supplies. The man's identification checked out, but John still went through each bag of food and clothing, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

  He put together a suitcase full of clothes and left it in front of Alice's bedroom door. John knocked and listened, hearing the splash of water from a shower in the background.

  The shower didn't turn off, so Alice must not have heard his knock. He walked down the hall.

  Today had been surreal. John put his clothes in the room he'd chosen across the hall, then went to the kitchen and put the two-month supply of groceries away.

  They didn't have to go anywhere for a while, though she'd insist on going to her parents. He had to convince her to stay. How? The thought of going into her room to seduce her set his body on fire.

  He wouldn't follow that thought, so he popped open a beer and took a sip. The brew did little to appease his mood so he picked up his phone, wondering if Vicki had one. He'd been so busy he hadn't asked. He swallowed and then called the Castle.

  On the second ring, his brother answered, "Where did you disappear?"

  No amount of beer would lessen the pain of this conversation. John drank, but the ale had a bitterness to it. "I went to the house dad gave me."

  "With Alice?"

  His grip on the bottle tightened. There had been no reason for Peter to cancel Alice's contract at the funeral. "Don't mention her name."

  "I'm surprised. I never would have guessed she was your type."

  Peter had the worst taste in women. John's spine straightened. Peter's disapproval could rot right next to their father's grave. Alice wasn't the topic of this conversation. He directed the dialogue. "Do you have Victoria with you?"

  "Of course. She's my responsibility."

  John pressed his lips together. That comment reeked of power, control, and all things taught in the House of Morgan. He found his FBI voice and regained his composure. "Put her on the phone."

  "Yeah. Hold on."

  Perhaps his brother's imitation of their father's voice was breeding, but the tone made John's entire body clench. His demeanor relaxed the moment Victoria uttered her first syllable. "Hey, you."

  He placed his bottle on the table and flexed his fingers. "Can you talk?"

  "I'm going to a guest room right now." Vicki sounded bubbly, calm, and alive. "Peter turned my bedroom into a gym."

  John rubbed the back of his neck. "We thought you had died."

  She clicked her tongue, and he smiled. "Don't defend him. I expected a shrine with a plaque on the door."

  At least he wasn't alone anymore. The only person in the Morgan household who ever had a heart was his sister. In the distance he heard Alice's bedroom door open. He stood up and leaned against the window that overlooked the bay. "Why didn't you call and tell me you were alive?"

  Outside the ocean waves could be heard, but night made the view of the water so black that the moon reflected in the ripples. He traced the moon with his fingers in the glass as she explained. "I needed to disappear."

  "Where were you?"

  "Europe."

  She sounded evasive. He stared down the hall. Alice's suitcase had disappeared. He couldn't see her, but his sister's words played in his ear. "Care to be more specific?"

  "Not over the phone. I'm happy I'm home. When did you start dating Alice?"

  He tugged his collar. Alice's kiss played
in his memory. He'd kiss her again, but keep that under wraps until he knew she was safe. His gut churned knowing that the danger was because of him.

  "I asked you a question, bro."

  Bro was so Miami. He smiled and realized his sister was still the same. "You can ask her, later. She's sleeping."

  "She was always a sweetie who did the right thing. I missed Alice and you. I'm glad you had each other."

  He wouldn't disillusion Vicki yet, and the image of Alice in his arms again burned in his skull. The hallway stayed silent. "I spent the past few years blaming Dad and wanting to avenge you."

  "I love you, John."

  He blinked. Vicki was another reason to stay in Miami and she'd answer all his questions once they were alone. He dropped his arm to his side. "I love you too."

  A door clicked closed in the distance. Alice must have retrieved her suitcase and gone back in her room. He turned on his heel and walked into the living room. His sister said, "I should have called you sooner."

  He nodded though she couldn't see him. "You should have."

  "I want to see you and Alice tomorrow."

  "Maybe. Let's play it by ear. I might have to take her to her parents' place."

  His sister sighed. "I'm sure with Dad's funeral and the shot into the glass door, they'd want to check every inch of her body to make sure she's okay. I'd do that if my… I always wished our dad was like either of her parents."

  His sister took the words right out of his mouth. "You're here now and with the family you have. Don't run away on us again."

  "I won't. And I'll text you the second I get my own phone."

  A knock sounded at the door and Peter's voice echoed through the phone. "In two days we're reading Dad's will. Tell John he should be here."

  Their sister shouldn't be reduced to the buffer zone, but he couldn't have a conversation with Peter yet. Peter would want answers on what he'd do with his life. John sucked in his breath. "Tell Peter I might."

  She astutely added, "John, you're both my brothers. We're all that's left, and I don't want to live with everyone throwing daggers at each other anymore."

  John's neck heated. "No one's sharpened any blades, Vicki."

  "Then let's start acting like a family who loves each other."

  He could see in his mind's eye his sister with her arms crossed. He smiled but then stopped himself. "Whatever Dad did to you, Peter must have known about it."

  "No. I don't believe that. So I'll see you for sure in two days. Tell Alice's parents hello for me, and I'm calling tomorrow to get her number from you."

  She evaded too many questions. Something wasn't right with why she left and never came back. He'd get the truth out of her, but for now he stared down the hall. "Night."

  Vicki hung up.

  Just knowing that Alice was here in the house brought warmth to his chilled heart.

  Chapter 13

  Alice opened the suitcase as John's "I love you" replayed in her ears. He was probably talking to Vicki, but her mind had flashed to the question of a girlfriend. As far as she recalled back in high school and college, he had never cheated on his girlfriends.

  She unzipped all the containers that contained her overnight necessities as she decided that it definitely had been Victoria. Her mind still reeled on how someone dead just walked through the door without an explanation. Okay, they'd run off fast after the shooting incident, but like John, Alice wanted to know how Vicki had come back to life.

  She flipped through the clothes and realized everything was both designer and in her size. The House of Morgan knew how to provide for their guests. The last designer dress Alice owned was something bought for her to be Victoria's escort to a Hollywood premiere. She found a light t-shirt and a pair of jeans, threw them on, and turned on her bare heel to go speak to John.

  The hall was quiet as she approached.

  He was in the dark living room staring out at the night. His muscular frame sat straight in the chair as he sipped a beer. Her heart did a pitter-patter in her chest as she took the seat next to him. "Do you have something to drink? I'm thirsty."

  He turned and stared hard at her. He must have heard her coming. Alice expected his tone to be harsh and guarded, but then he took a swallow from his bottle of beer. "Are you still upset at me?"

  She studied the tile to get her bearings, determined to be honest. In high school, she'd envisioned a fairy-tale life that money like her friend's might create and how miserable her friend was. "I don't want to be here and live in some bubble as if the real world doesn't exist."

  His bare feet came into view as he stood. She lifted her face to him as he smiled. "I'll get you a drink. Are you hungry?"

  Her stomach growled and her hands clutched her stomach to somehow muffle the sound. "A little. We never had the chance to eat at the funeral."

  Death was a strange way to start a conversation. She gulped. He walked toward the kitchen. She stared at his strong backside and then jumped to follow him. She leaned against the doorway as he fixed her a plate of fully cooked chicken marsala and linguini. "When did you have time to cook?"

  He shrugged as he placed the plates on the table. "I had security drop off supplies and that included a hot meal for tonight."

  She stepped closer and turned around in the kitchen. Once again the Morgan family took care of details that took time out of the day for mere mortals like her. She sighed. "Add a glass of white wine and I promise I'll be nice."

  He winked. "Deal."

  John opened a drawer, revealing a full wine rack with a large selection of white to red. "Any particular kind?"

  A genuine smile broke free as she brushed her hip against his leg. "Moscato. I've been feeling sweet lately."

  "It's because you are sweet."

  She shook her head, but said with a smile, "No flirting."

  His gaze went up and down her body as he took stock of her figure in the designer jeans and cotton tee. "Why not?"

  She picked up the wineglass and stepped back. "'Cause you confuse me. My real life is much different than your reality."

  "I've been shot at a few times in the past few years."

  She winced. "I was trying not to think about that."

  He poured a glass for himself and then added a cork to the bottle. He clinked glasses with her. "It's why I'm keeping you here."

  She sipped her wine and her face heated. She licked her lips to get the taste off. "Let's not talk about it."

  He leaned one hand against the kitchen counter. "Okay. So how is my life different from yours?"

  Sipping from the glass she cupped in her hands, Alice said, "I expect to work. I don't choose a career as payback to my father. I have to look after myself."

  John tilted his head. "You work for your parents."

  She lowered the glass to the counter, her hands resting on the granite. "They need me. My dad's heart condition changed everything. When Colt comes home, he's going to manage the farm and land. I studied business in college so I could ensure our farm stayed profitable even if we lost your family's accounts. Somehow we have to make this work."

  He licked a drop of wine from his lower lip and her body tingled. "If you didn't need to do that anymore for them, what would you do?"

  He'd turned the tables on her. She shrugged and relaxed as she stepped back. "Get a job. Part of me wishes I worked in my own store, perhaps doing something crafty to sell online, but I don't know what I'd do."

  He picked up their wineglasses and walked past her, gesturing for her to go into the living area. She passed him and he followed. "Don't be like my family."

  She gazed over her shoulder. "We never could be."

  He seemed to dissect every word, listening intently as he joined her on the couch. "I don't understand. So why would you go into business if not to make serious money?"

  He'd probably had at-home lessons from his father on how to succeed no matter what, even if that meant destroying everyone else who got his way. Alice touched his hand and tried to ma
ke him understand her family's philosophy. "Business is to help us have a happy family life and give back to the community where we live. Plus everyone needs to work and then retire. We all grow old, John. We don't all want to be your dad."

  He leaned his arms on his knees and stared out the dark windows toward the moon. "I quit the FBI."

  She licked her lips. Part of her hoped to beg for a kiss, but he didn't even glance her way. "You said that. Why?"

  He turned and his blue eyes had a fire inside them that burned. "I can't arrest a ghost."

  She nodded and rubbed his knee. "What will you do then?"

  He stared at her hand so she stopped. "I have some ideas, but I could use someone good with numbers on my team."

  Her skin heated from his gaze. "Is that a job offer?"

  His hand brushed against her leg, and she blushed. She knew what she must look like as he said, "Would you want that to be?"

  She took his hand in hers. "You like pulling the rug out from underneath my feet, John."

  His lips were so close to hers. She closed her eyes as he said, "I like to see you happy."

  She'd be his if he took her. She had no control and wished he'd take everything she had. His lips came closer as she said, "You don't know me."

  He took the glass from her hand. She opened her eyes as he placed both wineglasses on the coffee table. Then his lips came back to hers. "I know plenty."

  The brush of his lips on hers sent a spark down her spine and into her soul. Her fingers curled around his coarse light brown hair as she turned her face to accept a deeper kiss.

  John didn't disappoint. His tenderness was her undoing and she sighed his name.

  She had a strong sense of her own heartbeat as he sat back.

  Every nerve tingled as he handed her back the glass of wine. She lifted her chin and took another sip.

  He stared hard at her but she couldn't read him. All around her was the smell of cedar and pine. The waves of the ocean lapped in the distance beyond the window, and she turned her gaze away. "How will you protect me if you quit your job and someone is after you?"