The old man whipped his head around real quick, as did Morgan, two sets of sharp blue eyes focusing on him.
Zeke stared back.
The moment Morgan had pedaled off up the driveway, telling him that she was going to see Filthy Phil—whoever the hell that was—he’d decided he was going to have to follow. And not because hammering in shingles hadn’t been a good way to get rid of his inappropriate thoughts about her.
He’d had a restless night, despite the beers he’d had with Silas and Damon, who’d insisted on checking out his campsite and had ended up staying, sitting around the fire and swapping stories about Cal.
It had been good to do that, he’d acknowledged. They’d even had a few laughs, remembering the happy times. And he’d thought he’d sleep well after that, but apparently not.
He couldn’t get Morgan out of his head.
He’d woken this morning with the same pull inside him as he’d felt the day before, when he’d sat beside her on the dock. But he’d tried to ignore it, figuring that busying himself with the house repairs would be a good distraction, and besides, if he got them done in the next few days, then he could leave and it wouldn’t be a problem anymore.
But it had been unexpectedly hot on Morgan’s roof that morning and he’d gotten rid of his shirt without thought. And even though there had been some distance between them when she’d come out to tell him she was leaving, he hadn’t missed the way she’d stared at him. And he definitely hadn’t been pleased about it, no, absolutely not.
But after she’d gone, he hadn’t been able to settle or concentrate on what he was doing. So he’d climbed down off that roof, put on his shirt, and gone after her, telling himself that he probably should meet this Filthy Phil character since he hadn’t yet and Silas and Damon had pointed out to him the importance of making himself known to everyone in Deep River.
Nothing to do with being helplessly drawn to Morgan West.
He’d had to go on foot and might have lost her entirely since he had no idea where Filthy Phil lived if he hadn’t gotten a ride in an ancient old truck from a young guy called Jason Anderson.
A good thing he’d gotten that ride too because he’d arrived just in time to hear Phil mention something about her running herself ragged and how the deaths of her parents and brother weren’t her fault.
He would have thought that was an obvious conclusion to make, but maybe it wasn’t. She wasn’t happy about the observation though, since her face had become very stern and no-nonsense, the same kind of look she’d given the old trapper at the Moose yesterday while the old man, still standing beside the coffee table, scowled at him.
“Who the hell are you?” the old man demanded. “And what are you doing in my house?”
Zeke stepped into the room. He didn’t offer his hand, not with the old guy looking at him like he was the devil incarnate, instead shoving them into his pockets the way he usually did.
“Zeke Montgomery,” Zeke said. “I’m one of the new owners. And I’m in your house because I followed Morgan here.”
“Literal, huh?” The old man looked him up and down. “What do they feed you boys? Growth hormone?”
Since that didn’t seem to require a reply, Zeke didn’t give him one.
“Name’s Phil Morse,” Phil went on, his expression still suspicious. “And why are you following Morgan around?”
“Good question,” Morgan said, not moving from her spot on the couch, her gaze getting sharper by the second. “Weren’t you supposed to be fixing my roof?”
“Yes. But I hadn’t met Mr. Morse here, so I thought I’d better come and introduce myself.”
“Well, it would be nice if you’d asked me if you could come along, instead just following me.”
Yeah, she definitely wasn’t happy. Was it something to do with him? Or maybe the conversation he’d interrupted about her father? And thinking her family’s death was her fault?
He hadn’t liked the sound of that, especially when he knew a little about blame himself, and he hoped it wasn’t true.
“I was going to, but you’d already gone,” he pointed out, reasonably enough he’d thought. “What’s the big deal anyway?”
Morgan pushed herself to her feet, unmistakable sparks of anger glittering in her eyes. “If I have to tell you, then—” She broke off, glancing at the old man.
Phil had his arms folded and was beadily watching the pair of them. “Oh, don’t mind me,” he said. “Please, carry on.”
Morgan snorted. “We should go. Zeke’s helping me fix the roof and there’s quite a bit still left to do today, isn’t there?”
Zeke opened his mouth to tell her that there wasn’t that much to do and he’d probably be done by this afternoon, but Phil got in before he could.
“You’re helping Morgan?” the old man asked, his gaze narrowing suspiciously. “Why?”
He’d gotten the same look yesterday from most of the other Deep River inhabitants and he wasn’t surprised. Small, isolated towns tended to be wary of strangers and he understood that.
But there was something protective in his voice too.
“Phil, please,” Morgan began, sounding impatient. “Do we really have to get into this—”
“You have a problem with me helping Morgan, Mr. Morse?” Zeke interrupted, ignoring Morgan, meeting the old man’s gaze head on.
Phil’s eyes gleamed, clearly relishing Zeke’s challenge. “Hell yeah, I have a problem. You’re a stranger, son. I don’t know a single thing about you. And I get twitchy when strangers suddenly turn up in town and start hanging around people I care about.”
It was a test. The same kind of test he’d gotten from virtually everyone else he’d met in this town. They’d all been suspicious and wary, all of them reserved, which was to be expected. Not having the same kinds of people skills that Silas and Damon did hadn’t counted in his favor either and fitting in wasn’t one of his strengths.
All he had was honesty.
“I got a letter after Cal died,” Zeke said. “Asking me to look after Morgan. So that’s what I’m going to do to the best of my ability. Whether you like it or not.”
Phil frowned, staring at him very hard.
Morgan muttered something under her breath. “Oh, for God’s sake. If you boys want to stand around—”
“Morgan,” Phil interrupted, not looking away from Zeke. “You okay with this character looking out for you? He causing you any trouble?”
Zeke didn’t smile, but almost. The old guy wouldn’t have been able to hold his own in a fight physically, but he still had his balls, that was for sure. Zeke could only respect that.
He waited, not saying anything, and after a moment Morgan said, with some exasperation, “No, of course not. He’s a pain in my butt because I don’t need anyone looking out for me, but he’s fine.”
Phil nodded, continuing to give Zeke one steady, piercing stare that Zeke met with equanimity. Then he glanced back at Morgan once again and stared at her.
“I see,” he said after a moment, as if he’d just discovered some big secret. “It’s like that is it?”
Zeke wasn’t sure what Phil was talking about, but he was sure that whatever it was, he wasn’t going to like it.
Morgan frowned. “Like what?”
But Phil only cackled, his earlier aggression fading, clearly enormously entertained about something. “You’ll see, girl. You’ll see. Are you sure you don’t want to stay and have some tea? You too, Montgomery.” He paused, still grinning. “You seem like a nice man.”
“No,” Morgan said firmly. “Thanks, Phil, but I have a few other things to do.”
“Sure you do.” The old man nodded, still enjoying whatever private joke he’d just made.
An impatient expression crossed Morgan’s features. “Right, well. I’ve got things to do. Nice to see you, Phil.” She strode past Zeke, disappearing into the hallway without a word.
“She’s going to give you trouble, boy,” Phil said comfortably. “But you won’t find a truer or more loyal heart this side of the river.”
Zeke fought the urge to scowl. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I bet not.” Phil grinned.
Zeke decided not to reply, merely giving Phil a nod before turning to follow Morgan out.
She was picking her bike up from where she’d left it near the stairs to the front porch, an expression of definite irritation on her face. “Why did you come after me? I thought nothing was more important than fixing my roof?”
He came down the stairs toward her. “I wanted to meet Phil.”
“Why?”
Zeke ignored the question, studying her face and noting the glitter of temper in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. You’re mad.”
“I’m not.” She got on the bike. “Feel free to fix yourself lunch from anything in the fridge. I’m going to be gone most of the day—”
He’d moved before he’d even thought about it, his hand coming out, grabbing the handlebars and standing in front of her, stopping her from riding away.
Her eyes narrowed, a glimpse of steel behind all that blue-eyed wholesomeness. “What are you doing, Zeke?”
He wasn’t sure. He just didn’t like that she was angry. It made his chest feel tight, the same way what he’d overheard about her family had made him feel. It made him want to do something to help her in some way, though doing what he didn’t know.
Shit, he hated this emotional stuff. He never knew what to do, how to make things better. His mother had gotten upset once at the country club, when he’d refused to go and play with the son of one his mother’s friends. The kid had been a bully and Zeke didn’t like him and had told his mom that in front of the other boy’s mother.
His mom had been furious with him. “Just pretend,” she’d snapped. “For once in your life just pretend.”
But he’d never known how to pretend, just like he didn’t know how to make it better.
Except he wanted to for Morgan. He didn’t like that she was mad and he wanted to fix it.
“Tell me why you’re angry,” he said. “Is it about what I overheard? About your family?”
Her eyes widened and an expression he couldn’t read flickered over her face. Her cheeks had gotten a flush to them. “That’s none of your business.”
“If you’re getting mad at me then it is.”
“I’m getting mad at you because you’re standing in front of my bike. So, if you don’t want this front wheel landing somewhere painful, I suggest you move.”
Zeke ignored her, concentrating on her face and on the sparks deep in her blue eyes. He was having no difficulty reading her emotions right now. She was so expressive, and it was clear to him it wasn’t only anger in her gaze but hurt as well.
“Is it me?” he demanded. “Did I do something wrong?”
Surprise rippled over her pretty face. “What?”
“Because if it is,” he went on, “if I hurt you, I need to know. You have to tell me.”
She was silent a moment, studying him. “No,” she said at last. “No, it’s not you. Phil just brought up some…old memories that I didn’t particularly want to talk about.”
Zeke found he was gripping the handlebars of her bike rather more tightly than he should. “You’re afraid I overheard?”
She let out a breath, then gave him a very fixed look. “It’s nothing. Phil is annoyed that Cal left the town to people he views as strangers. He thinks I shouldn’t have refused when Silas offered it to me at the reading of the will, and he thinks me refusing has something to do with my family…not being around anymore.”
“And does it?”
“No,” Morgan said firmly. “I refused because I didn’t want to own it. That’s not my role. I don’t think it should be owned anyway, but that’s another story.”
“So what was he talking about when he said it wasn’t your fault?”
“I have no idea. It’s probably something to do with me wanting to live up to some West legacy, but he’s wrong. Yes, my mom left, then Cal, then my dad died. But I don’t blame myself for those things. Mom and Cal had their reasons for leaving, and Dad…well, he had a heart attack. He might not have been the most demonstrative or happy of people, but I knew he was proud of me and what I’d achieved in the end.” She fixed with him a challenging stare. “Happy?”
No, he wasn’t happy. It all sounded logical, and he thought she was giving him the truth. And she sure sounded fine. But he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she wasn’t quite as fine as she made out.
He wasn’t sure why that mattered to him, but it did.
“Well?” She raised one apricot brow and shifted on the bike. “Are you going to get out of my way, or am I going to have to introduce you to my front wheel?”
Pushing her would likely only make her madder and he didn’t want that. Plus, what could he do about it anyway? She was right. It wasn’t any of his business.
Wordlessly, he let go of the handlebars and stood aside, watching as she pedaled off without even a backward glance.
“Want some advice, son?” Phil’s scratchy voice came from behind him.
Great. Had the old man witnessed all of that?
Zeke scowled but didn’t turn around. “No.”
“If you want to make headway with that girl, do something nice for her,” Phil went on as if Zeke hadn’t said a word. “She looks after this community and she works hard, and not just because it’s her job or because she’s a West, but because of who she is. Because she cares. But she’s also been running herself ragged since Caleb’s death and she’s mule stubborn about accepting help.”
Zeke stared down the path to the road where Morgan had disappeared. Phil was definitely right about her not wanting help—he’d experienced that firsthand. “Why?”
“Got a few ideas.”
Zeke turned around.
Phil was standing on the ramshackle porch staring at him.
“What ideas?” he asked.
“Curious, ain’t ya? You want to know, you ask her.” He tilted his head slightly and gave Zeke a measuring glance. “And I’m thinking that if anyone can make her see some sense, then it’s probably you.”
Zeke frowned. “What makes you say that?”
“Like calls to like.” Phil grinned. “Takes a mule to move a mule.”
“What?”
But the old man waved a hand dismissively. “If you want to do right by Caleb and look out for Morgan West, then you gotta think about more than just house repairs. She can do those herself. It’s the things she can’t do that she needs.”
“What are those?” Zeke asked, puzzled.
“You got brains. Figure it out.” Phil waved at him again and then turned, disappearing back into the house.
For a second Zeke debated following him and pressing for more answers because, actually, Zeke wasn’t sure he could figure it out for himself.
He was a man of action. He did things. He fixed stuff. And if Phil was right, if Morgan did need more than house repairs, then he wasn’t sure he could help. Surviving in the wilderness, flying planes, and fixing things was all he knew how to do.
You can’t let Cal down, though. You have a little sister too, remember?
Yeah, and he hadn’t been able to do anything for Izzy either. He’d had to leave Houston, leave her with their demanding mother and their even more demanding father. She’d told him to go, that after the disastrous year he’d spent working at Montgomery Oil and Gas, where he’d finally understood just how out of place in his family’s world he was, he needed to find his own path. So he had. He hadn’t wanted to go and leave her, but she was tough, his sister. She fit in that world and he didn’t.
He was more suited to Alaska, to the wilderness. To being alone. He had nothing to offer anyone, let alone Morgan West, and to be clear, he didn’t want to.
But giving up wasn’t in his nature and neither was not doing what he’d said he’d do. And he’d promised Cal he’d look out for Morgan.
If Morgan needed something more than house repairs, then he had to find out what it was she needed and give it to her.
End of story.
Zeke took a breath and started down the path.
* * *
Morgan wasn’t quite sure why she was so mad, she just was. Mad enough that she only spent five minutes with Lloyd—who lived a bit farther down the hill from Phil—and didn’t come in and sit down for a chat the way she normally would have.
Afterward, riding the rest of the way back down into Deep River, she was still mad and still couldn’t work out why.
Sure, talking to Phil had dug at old wounds she’d thought had healed a long time ago, and then Zeke turning up and overhearing all of that hadn’t helped. The last thing she wanted was him all up in her family’s business.
He hadn’t helped by following her outside and asking her questions, and then making her feel even worse by asking whether or not the problem was him.
She’d told him it wasn’t, and it was true. She might have been uncomfortable with him overhearing what was private family business, but the issue wasn’t him per se. She just hadn’t wanted to talk about how her family had all left her. Her father hadn’t physically, like her mother and Cal, but he hadn’t been the most supportive emotionally. And maybe that had been rougher on her than she remembered.
But still, that was in the past and she was fine. She wasn’t running herself ragged either. She was just busy and she liked it that way.
Except somehow, none of those justifications worked at her making her feel any better, the way they usually did.
At the bottom of the hill, Morgan swung her bike left and rode along Deep River’s main street and from there, onto the boardwalk that projected out over the river.
There were only a few buildings that comprised Deep River’s town center: April’s Diner, the Gold Pan hotel, the tourist information center with the mayor’s office on top, the Happy Moose bar, and lastly, Mal’s Market, the general store.
It was to the Moose that Morgan headed, wanting to follow up with Hope about what strategies were in place for drunken patrons—especially the regulars—and how they could better monitor any troublemaking behavior. Maybe investigating some alcohol dependency programs might be a good idea also.
She parked the bike, then pushed open the door to find Hope leaning on the bar, a dishcloth in her hands, looking dreamily at her brand-new and very pretty engagement ring.
Morgan had known Hope since forever, mainly because Hope had been Cal’s best friend, and even though Morgan had been three years younger and thus barred from hanging out with the older kids, she’d gotten to know Hope reasonably well after Cal had left Deep River.
Hope had a tough, take-no-crap-from-anyone exterior, as befitted the manager of a sometimes-unruly bar. But under that she was kind and generous and caring, and Morgan had always appreciated her friendship.
She still felt guilty that she hadn’t been around for Hope after Cal had died, but in the end it had worked out: Hope had gotten together with Silas, her other childhood best friend, and now the pair of them were deliriously happy.
Morgan might have even felt a little jealous about it if she’d allowed herself to, but she didn’t allow herself to. She had no time for men or relationships. Seemed like a lot of work and she had far too much work on her plate already.
“Hey, Hope,” she said as the door shut behind her and Hope looked up. “Got a few minutes?”
“Sure.” The dreamy expression vanished from Hope’s face. “If you’re here to talk about your visitor then yes, absolutely I do.”
Morgan frowned. “What visitor?”
“Tall, dark, and handsome. Not to mention surly.”
Oh. Right. Of course Hope would know about that.
Morgan felt her cheeks heating and hoped like hell her friend wouldn’t notice. “You mean Zeke?”
“Yeah, I mean Zeke.” Hope surveyed her and clearly noticed her flush, dammit. “He giving you any trouble?”
Did hammering shirtless and making her mad constitute trouble?
“Not really,” she said.
“That sounds decisive.”
“Well, he’s a straight up pain in the ass, stubborn as hell, and won’t take no for an answer, but he’s not giving me trouble as such.”
Hope laughed. “Wow, that sounds horribly familiar.”
Considering that Hope was engaged to Silas, who could also be as stubborn as hell, Morgan thought it probably did.
“Anyway, he’s not the problem,” Morgan said dismissively. “I wanted to talk to you about Lloyd—”
“If he’s not the problem, then why are you blushing?” Hope interrupted.
Ugh. Not for the first time, Morgan wished she didn’t have quite such fair skin.
“I’ve been riding,” she said. “And it’s hot out.”
“Not that hot.” Hope grinned. “Why don’t we go next door to April’s? We can get a coffee and a donut and maybe you can talk to me a bit more about this stubborn, annoying ass problem you’re having.”
Absolutely not. Zeke was the last person she wanted to talk about.
“Love to, but I don’t really have time right now. And anyway, like I said, he’s not a problem.”
“Uh-huh. That’s why you’re blushing. Because he’s not a problem.”
Morgan shifted uncomfortably on her feet, half of her wanting to refuse, while the other half was kind of tempted to take Hope up on the offer. Because Hope was right. No matter how she denied it, Zeke Montgomery was a problem. A damn attractive one. Somehow, one stubborn bear of a man was getting under her skin, and she needed to know how to deal with him.
You could use some help. It’s not like you have any experience with this.
Damn. Much as it galled her to admit it, that was true—she didn’t, though that had been by choice. There had been a distinct lack of options in Deep River anyway, and being a VPSO complicated things. Still, it wasn’t as if she couldn’t deal with Zeke herself. But maybe a few pointers on how to deal with her inconvenient attraction would be useful.
Morgan sighed. “Okay, but not April’s.” April was very motherly and if she spotted Morgan, she’d want a full accounting of Morgan’s day, and if April had met Zeke—and Morgan was thinking she probably had—she’d no doubt know already that he was repairing her house and then she’d want a rundown as to why etcetera, etcetera…
Hope, clearly on the same wavelength, nodded. “On second thought, not April’s. Let’s go upstairs.”
A couple of minutes later, Morgan was sitting at the wooden kitchen table in Hope’s cozy little kitchen, situated in the apartment she and Silas shared above the bar.
A window faced the street behind the Moose, showing a view up into the green hills of the town and letting in the sunlight from what was shaping up to be a beautiful morning.
Hope began bustling around making coffee with the beans she had a standing special order for at Mal’s and getting mugs out of the cupboard by the sink.
It was a cheerful, welcoming room, and Morgan’s attention drifted to the cluster of little notes stuck to the fridge with small magnets. The writing on them was too small to see clearly, but she could make out one or two.
One said Remember, I love you with big hearts drawn beside the words. While another said You have the prettiest eyes.
Love notes, clearly.
Her throat tightened unexpectedly and she found herself wondering what it would be like to have someone writing notes like that for her. Or to write one for someone else. No one had ever told her she had the prettiest eyes…
That’s not quite true, is it?
The memory of Zeke sitting on the dock beside her was suddenly in Morgan’s head. The memory of the expression in his dark gaze as he’d looked at her and the hot crackle of the energy that had filled the space between them.
He thought she was pretty. He thought she was sunshine.
A warm glow sat in her chest, easing the ache in her throat.
“So,” Hope said, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Tell me about tall, dark, and bearded.”
“Grumpy, stubborn, and annoying you mean.”
“Sure, that as well.”
Morgan sighed. “There’s not much to tell. You know why he’s here, right?”
“Si said something about repairing your house.” Hope switched the coffee maker on. “Which, by the way, is all everyone’s talking about.”
Morgan only just stopped herself from rolling her eyes. The gossip mill never stopped, did it? “Of course they are.”
“You’re a West, Morgan. You’re always going to be a subject of discussion. Did you expect anything different?”
Well, no. There was always gossip in a small town. Especially this small town. Especially when you were a cop and a West.
“You’d think they’d have something better to do,” she said a touch acidly, not relishing the thought of her and Zeke’s every move coming under scrutiny.
“Come on. Now Astrid’s with Damon, they’ve been casting around trying to find something else to talk about that isn’t oil stuff. The third owner of the town showing up and hanging around a West? A very resolutely single West? And he’s a fine-looking man…” Hope raised her eyebrows meaningfully.
Zeke shirtless on the roof, all bronzed and muscular, hammering in nails…
“I see you agree,” Hope murmured.
“What?” Morgan steadfastly refused to blush again. “I mean…he’s okay, I guess. If you like that sort of thing.”
“Which you do.”
She let out a breath. Okay, so if she was here to get some advice about her attraction to Zeke, then pretending she wasn’t attracted to him wasn’t going to help matters.
A coffee mug suddenly appeared on the table in front of her.
Morgan looked up and met Hope’s sympathetic gaze.
“Come on,” Hope said, sitting down opposite her. “Drink your coffee and tell me about him. I’m familiar with the type, as you might expect.”
In the face of such warm female sympathy, something inside Morgan fell away. She reached for the mug and wrapped her fingers around it, a tension she hadn’t been aware of slowly easing. “Yes, you’re right,” she said. “He is a fine-looking man.”
“You like him, don’t you?” There was amusement on Hope’s angular face, but it was the sympathetic kind.
“Like isn’t really the word,” Morgan replied slowly. “Not when I barely know him.”
“You’re attracted to him then.”
“Well, yes. No idea why, when he’s only been here for a couple of days and has been nothing but a stubborn, humorless ass.”
“But an attractive stubborn, humorless ass.”
Morgan pressed her fingers against the warm porcelain of the coffee mug and smiled reluctantly. “He is, damn him. What’s wrong with me that I like that?”
“If there’s something wrong with you, then there’s something wrong with me too.” Hope sipped at her coffee. “I go for stubborn, humorless asses myself.”
“But you knew Si already.”
“Yes, but not in that way, if you know what I mean. We were friends long before we became anything more.”
“Were you attracted to him before that then? When you were friends?”
Hope’s mouth curved in a reminiscent smile. “Oh, I told myself I wasn’t, but I sure as hell was. In fact, I spent years telling myself I wasn’t. But it wasn’t until he came back to Deep River that I figured out I’d been lying to myself.”
That sounded familiar to Morgan—at least the lying-to-herself part.
“I suppose I feel the same about Zeke,” she admitted. “I’ve been telling myself I’m not attracted to him, but I am. And it’s making me grumpy with him, which really isn’t fair.”
“So what do you want to do about it? Does he feel the same way?”
Zeke sitting beside her on the dock, the gleam in his eyes as he looked at her…
The warm glow inside Morgan expanded. “Maybe. Yes, I think he might.”
“In that case, you could just have a fling with him,” Hope said. “You know, scratch the itch.”
A fling.
The words vibrated in Morgan’s head for far longer than they should have. She’d never thought about those two words in relation to herself. She’d never met anyone she’d wanted to have a fling with. Of course, she’d had…needs. But she’d satisfied them well enough on her own so far. Men themselves had seemed extraneous.
But…well…
That had changed. She’d met Zeke and was attracted to him. And no, she didn’t want a relationship, but she didn’t have to have a relationship with a man in order to have sex with him. She could just…scratch the itch, as Hope had said.
“I’m not sure,” she said slowly. “I haven’t had a fling before. And it’s hard here, with everyone watching your every move.”
“I get it,” Hope murmured. “But seriously, he’s the perfect choice. He’s not staying—or at least, that’s what Si said—so you won’t have to run into him awkwardly at Mal’s or anything. You could have a couple of nights of fun and then he’d be gone.”
That was very true. And it didn’t have to mean anything or get complicated by feelings, not if she didn’t want it to.
A hot little thrill coursed straight down her spine.
She had absolutely zero experience when it came to sex, but what did that matter? She wasn’t eighteen. She wasn’t naive. She was a cop, for God’s sake, and even though the community in Deep River was pretty law-abiding, that didn’t mean she hadn’t seen bad things.
And really, as Hope had just pointed out, this was the perfect opportunity to get herself some experience firsthand. Zeke didn’t live here and he wasn’t staying. If it all went bad, she wouldn’t have to see him every day or deal with him.
She could have something for herself for a change, have a small taste of pleasure. After all, hadn’t Phil told her to find herself a nice man? He probably hadn’t meant quite in that sense but still…
“Hmmm,” Hope murmured. “You look like you’ve decided something.”
“Perhaps.” Morgan took a sip of the very good coffee and smiled. “So, uh, here’s a strictly hypothetical question for you: How do you go about asking a man to sleep with you?”