Record heat and an overstressed air conditioner were not the welcome home Morgan hoped for Friday afternoon. While the swamp cooler in her apartment gave a coy rumble of protest before kicking into agreement, the ancient central air system in the main house copped an attitude the second the mercury hit ninety and turned the house into a sauna. By the time Morgan located and wrapped the exposed wire in electrical tape, she’d had enough.
Not even the exuberant squeals and laughter from the backyard as the kids ran through an obstacle course of sprinklers, fired-up mega water guns, and an endless barrage of water balloons were enough to drag her out of her self-imposed hobbit hole of depression.
It was all Morgan could do not to scream and cry and beat her fists against the wall to bend the world to her will. She was starting to suffocate, everything piling up on her, boulder after boulder landing on her chest. The center, the money, Nemesis, Gage, her father selling the house, the endless repairs, Lydia. The doctor and patient she’d had to turn away.
The desire to hear Gage’s voice was overwhelming, to be reminded that even though he was unaware of what she’d done, what she was hiding from him, he was there for her. So she’d taken Sheila’s advice and called Gage.
She’d hung up before the call connected.
An hour later she’d dialed again, let it ring once before changing her mind again, and turned her phone to vibrate.
She tapped the small stack of insert cards that had been included with Nemesis’ “gifts.” Where they’d once brought her immense relief and bolstered her belief that all would be okay, now the cards mocked her and screamed failure in their vapid whiteness.
It was too late, they seemed to say.
The incessant vibrating of her silenced cell phone provided background music as she clicked through spreadsheet after spreadsheet, searching out extra dollars, any mistakes that might suddenly fix the foundation’s financial woes. Another read-through of the foundation bylaws proved what she already knew: the operating and property fund accounts could not intermingle. There was no wording that led her to believe there was a legal “out” if and when her financial finagling came to light during the audit.
“Lawyers and computers don’t make mistakes.” Morgan hit the stuttering mouse to get its attention when it stopped moving on the screen. “You do though. Mistake.” Click. “Mistake.” Click. “Mistake.”
The only thing her fruitless search produced was a carpet of scattered files and confirmation that she was out of time.
She’d even gone so far as to check mortgage rates against the house. Surely with her family’s sterling reputation she could get one; she might even consider asking her father to co-sign. And that might have been the solution. If she still had a few weeks. But no bank, not even the one her father sat on the board of, was going to get her the amount of money she needed in five— Morgan glanced at the clock. Shit. The banks were closed for the weekend. Three days.
Morgan slammed back in her chair, disgusted that she’d even considered sacrificing the Fiorellis’ and the kids’ stability because of her rash decisions. The deposit she’d make next week wouldn’t be all she needed, but it was something. She lowered her head into her hands, trying to uncover the bright side. Explaining a hundred-and-seventy-thousand-dollar discrepancy was a little easier than two hundred thousand. Wasn’t it?
Thank God Nico and Angela were taking the kids to the spring concert in the park tonight. They wouldn’t have to witness the massive self-pity party she was throwing for herself.
“Enough.” Morgan pushed herself out of the creaky office chair and straightened up, stacked the files, and tapped the cards into a neat pile under her monitor. If only everything in her life could be put in order so easily.
Morgan grasped the cameo around her neck, dragged it along its silver chain. Her mother wouldn’t have given up. No, her mother would have kept fighting, kept looking for another way, any way, before surrendering. There had to be something.
She heard the back gate bang open, more excited laughter pealing through the air as new voices joined the throng, but she didn’t take the time to look out the window. Instead, she went into her bedroom and sat on the edge of the mattress. She stared at the photos of her family surrounding the black lacquer jewelry box her grandmother had left her, resisting the overwhelming urge to wrap herself cocoon-like in the down comforter and bury herself in the mattress for the next week.
“Oh, Granny,” Morgan whispered as her gaze drifted over the photo of herself, Sheila, and their grandmother, Siobhan O’Donnal Tremayne, under the massive oak tree in the front yard. Between the Irish fire of her father’s mother and the strong will of her mother, Morgan had received a double dose of genetic stubbornness when it came to doing what was right. Both women had always done what was necessary to take care of the family.
The stories Granny told of meeting and falling in love with Morgan’s grandfather were family legend. Tales of skirting the law during Prohibition, the excitement of defying the rules despite the possible ramifications should they ever be caught, had never grown old—or been forgotten. Morgan embraced the irony that she was carrying on an unusual family tradition. She wished she could learn to live without regrets like Granny had.
Granny had risked going to prison to put food on her family’s table and had ended up providing them with everything they’d ever need. Even now that Granny was gone she’d left Morgan this house along with a gorgeous jewelry box filled with her treasures.
Morgan’s depression-logged mind cleared as if a fifty-mile-an-hour wind blew the thunderclouds away.
Morgan bit her lip, stood up, and lifted the latch on the box, exposing the treasure trove of antique jewelry. Oh, but she couldn’t. Could she?
That late fall afternoon when Granny had sat both her and Sheila down and let them alternately choose their favorite pieces from her extensive collection was as vivid a memory as a Technicolor film. As was the reading of Siobhan’s will four years later when the lawyer presented them with her bequests.
Lifting the box as if it would disintegrate at the slightest touch, Morgan carried her grandmother’s jewels to the small table outside the kitchen. One by one, the jeweled brooches, the delicate necklaces, and the too-small bracelets were brought into the light. A rainbow of gemstones and tarnished silver glinted and littered the table.
Morgan looked down at them, sadness creeping over her like ivy around a trellis. Granny was a practical woman. Hell, she’d worked in a speakeasy in the twenties and, rumor had it, had done far more scandalous things than Morgan could ever conceive of. Morgan ran her finger along the edge of the antique diamond engagement ring she’d hoped to wear one day. The thought of parting with it, with any of it, made her belly churn like a whirlpool in the middle of the ocean.
Granny would understand.
Morgan looked up at the ceiling. “Tell me what to do, Mom. Granny. Please, before it’s too late.”
A water balloon exploded against the front door. Smack!
Morgan jumped. Another smack, this one followed by a peal of laughter that echoed throughout her apartment. Morgan returned the ring to its velvet housing.
The second she pulled open the door, a balloon hit dead center of her chest. Water cascaded down her tank top, soaked her cutoffs, splashed against her bare feet and floor.
“Uh-oh.”
The back yard went silent, as if all sound had been sucked into a vacuum.
Morgan swiped a hand over her dripping face and down her neck as she scanned the lineup of suspects. Kelley and Brandon in drenched shorts and tank tops; Drew carrying a loaded water gun over his shoulder like a soldier of fortune and earning appreciative glances from Liza Juliano, who, still in her school uniform, guided Lydia as she waded in the thigh-high kiddie pool.
Lydia was walking. On her own.
Tears clouded her eyes before her gaze landed on Gage, who was frozen in mid-launch with another water balloon in his hand.
“Um. Wanna come out and play?” he asked.
Every minute she’d fought, every second she’d wanted to scream, every tear she’d wanted to shed walloped her like a sledgehammer.
But it was the sight of Gage standing there surrounded by her kids, dripping wet in slacks and a tailored button-down shirt as if he’d come straight from work, that brought the sob up from her toes.
She covered her mouth, but it was too late. Another sob built against the pressure in her chest.
He launched the balloon over his head. “Liza’s turn.” Morgan heard Gage’s sister squeal even as she laughed.
And then he was there, in front of her, his hands cupping her elbows, drawing her against him. Morgan burrowed into his chest, grabbing onto him, absorbing the feel of him, the presence of him, into her as if he were the only thing in her world.
“Bad day?” he asked, pressing his hand against the back of her head. She nodded. “Really bad?” She nodded again. “Is that why you called me?”
She wanted to deny it, didn’t want to give in to the weakness of wanting, of needing him. But she took a deep breath, took a chance.
She nodded.
Gage leaned away, stooped down so they were eye to eye. “Thank you.” He kissed her hard on the mouth, triggering another sob which made him frown. “Not the reaction I was hoping for. Gotta fix that.” The next sob came out as a laugh as he bent down and dumped her over his shoulder, shaking her depression loose.
“Gage.” She slapped at his back and kicked her feet as his arm locked around her knees. She choked on the tears, on the laugh. “Put me down! I’m too heavy.”
“Make way!” Gage bellowed at the kids. Morgan stretched to one side, and saw Liza pluck Lydia out of the pool and heft her onto her hip. “Take a deep breath,” he shouted over her shoulder before he tumbled them both into the water. “Duck and cover.”
She came up sputtering just as the kids unleashed their arsenal of water weapons.
***
The Tumbleweed version of the Battle of Waterloo lasted until Angela called a halt to the war and ushered the kids inside to get changed. Halfhearted protests followed them, but not before Kelley tossed the last water balloon in the air and giggled when it landed on Gage’s drenched shoes.
Gage made to catch her, but she shrieked and dashed out of reach.
Morgan lay in a heap on the grass, her shorts and tank soaked, her hair dripping, laughing so hard her sides burned. She knew she must look a fright, but any feminine insecurities threatening to take hold vanished under the heat of Gage’s heart-searing gaze.
He turned off the hose before heading over to her. “Now that’s the way to start a weekend.” He tugged her up, covering her mouth with his so completely that any hesitation, any doubt she had when it came to her heart, vanished.
“You really have a knack with that,” she murmured against his lips, the guilt and doubt she had about whatever time she spent with Gage going silent under his touch.
The patio door banged open. “Sorry. Ignore me,” Liza called, holding up her hand as if to shield her face and make herself invisible. “I’m not here. Go about whatever it is you’re doing. See you tomorrow.”
Morgan dropped her forehead onto Gage’s chest, wrapped her arms around, and held on. A sliver of her heart was petrified that if she let go, he’d see the truth, uncover the lies, and walk away.
What would she do when he walked away?
Morgan squeezed her eyes shut, locking that part of her heart in the darkness until she was forced to open it. Live for the moment.
Love for the moment.
A soft breeze wafted across them, cool against her damp clothes, the whisper on the wind calling in her mother’s calming, strong voice, as if finally giving Morgan the answer she’d been waiting for.
Lead with your heart and you’ll never have regrets.
Morgan looked up at Gage, the words frozen behind her parted lips, but she knew.
Angela banged on the kitchen window, held up a towel, waved them inside.
“We’re being summoned.” She took his hand and led him inside and took the towel Angela offered, not sure what good it was going to do. She handed it off to Gage, who looked just as flummoxed. He left his sopping shoes in the washroom as Angela finished packing up the family picnic basket.
“Where did this come from?” Morgan approached a second smaller basket on the counter, only to have Angela slap her hand away.
“That’s a surprise. Leave it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Instead, Morgan plucked a Greek yogurt ice pop from the tray Angela pulled out of the freezer and tried not to look at Gage as he joined her by the sink. He trailed his fingers down her arm. She shivered.
“Angela? Morgan? You home?” Nico bellowed.
“He knows we’re leaving in a little while. Where else would I be?” Angela shook her head. “Crazy man. In here!” She glanced up from packing a container of fried chicken. “Well?”
Morgan slurped the pop, frowned. “Well what?”
“It’s a go.” Nico’s face could have put the Rockefeller Christmas tree to shame. “We just signed a contract to supply J & J Markets with fresh-baked bread, muffins, and pastries. Three deliveries a week, with an option for more depending on sales.” He picked Angela up and spun her around the kitchen. Morgan looked up at Gage as he draped an arm over her shoulders.
“And if all goes well,” Nico continued, “in three months Angela says they’ll consider expanding the main store downtown into the next building so they can include an in-house bakery. Our in-house bakery, exclusive to J & J.”
“I knew Mom was up to something the other night,” Gage said. “That bread you sent with Morgan for Stephen’s birthday did the trick. Mom couldn’t stop raving about it.”
“Nutmeg, I tell you.” Nico came over and shook Gage’s hand. “Miracle ingredient. I’ve always said.”
“I’m so happy for you.” Morgan wrapped her arms around him as well as she could and gave him a squeeze. “You’ll be doing what you love and it won’t even seem like work.”
“Better yet,” Angela said as she finished with the basket. “Now we’ll have extra money so you can stop hiding bills from us.”
Morgan swallowed wrong and choked. “I don’t know what—”
“Did you think we didn’t notice when the medication bills started disappearing?” Nico asked in a serious tone. “Or the electricity bill?”
“The water bill? The phone bill?” Angela continued.
“Cable, Internet,” Nico said.
“Okay.” Morgan held up her hands. “Okay, I get it. I’m not as sneaky as I thought. I just didn’t want you to have to worry about—”
“What everyone else has to worry about?” Gage asked, and earned nods of agreement from Nico and Angela. Morgan started to sputter.
“You can’t take on everyone else’s problems.” Nico headed into the washroom and pulled down the stack of picnic blankets. “We went into this fosterage together. We will handle it together. Stop protecting us. We’ll make it through. So we will need to sit down and put together a new household budget and payment schedule. Understand?”
“Understood,” Morgan said. Was this what it felt like when responsibilities dropped away? As if she’d lost fifty pounds in fifty seconds?
“Excellent. Enjoy your night. We’ll be back late. Kids!” Angela called. “Move it. Van’s leaving in ten.”
Morgan dropped what was left of her ice pop in the sink and followed them to the door. Kelley wore her Princess Ariel mermaid costume that had ripped enough up the back so she could walk. With her magic wand in hand, she waved at Gage as she dashed outside, followed by Brandon. But it was seeing Drew walk behind a determined Lydia that etched permanently in Morgan’s mind.
“No wheelchair tonight,” Lydia announced as she took the steps one at a time. Twice Morgan saw Drew’s hands shoot out when she wobbled, and once they reached the landing, he bent down so she could climb on his back. Morgan saw Drew try not to look at her, but a glimmer of humor shone in his semi-obscured eyes. “Whatever,” he mumbled as they passed.
“Drew’s going to be okay,” Nico told her as they followed. “Good night, you two.”
“Oh, wait. The other basket.” Morgan moved to retrieve it from the kitchen.
“That’s ours.” Gage caught her arm. “Good night.” He shut the door behind Angela and Nico. At Morgan’s confused look, he rolled his eyes. “I called my mother, asked her to send dinner over for us, and Liza delivered.” He pulled her closer, dipped his head down, and brushed his lips against hers. “Thank you for calling me.”
“I didn’t really.” But she loved the thank-you.
“One ring was enough.” Another kiss, this one deeper, longer. She sighed as his hands moved down her arms, cupped her hips. His mouth moved on hers, erasing the hours of self-pity and doubt, of reminding her that she could have, even for a little while, some happiness. Something just for her.
“Will the basket keep?” she murmured against his lips, wanting more, more than she knew she should take.
“I’m sure that’s how she planned it.”
Morgan smiled, then turned and dragged him out the back door and picked up the basket on the way to her apartment.
The second she closed the door, she pushed him against it and curved her arms around his neck, stretching herself up to bring his mouth to hers. She broke away long enough to slide her hands underneath his shirt to feel the taut, smooth skin she’d dreamed about. Frustration coiled as she worked the buttons free and shoved the fabric apart to flatten her palms against his chest. She trailed her fingers over shapely abs, skimmed the waistband of his slacks. She heard his sharp inhale as she dipped under. She smiled.
She had imagined this happening. A lot. She’d suspected he had a beautiful physique, but her imagination hadn’t come close. The solid form of his body against hers, the heat of him radiating like the sun, warming her water-cooled skin through the layers of fabric separating them.
He was toned, and tanned, and the slight dusting of dark hair made her fingers itch to touch him, to explore, to tease.
She took a deep breath and her head went light at the intoxicating scent of him, as if he’d taken a long walk in the redwoods. “I do have one question to ask.”
Gage lowered his head and nibbled the side of her neck. Her brain fogged over as heat suffused her entire body.
“Ask whatever you want,” he murmured. He licked the lobe of her ear, took it between his teeth. He nipped gently as she shuddered. “I doubt I’ll say no.”
Morgan brushed her lips against his, pulled away when he tried to deepen the kiss. “Tell me you came prepared.”
Gage kissed her, the smile on his mouth contagious, and they laughed. “I was a Boy Scout. Take a wild guess.”
“I’ve never been so grateful for the Scouts.” She slithered against him.
His entire body went rigid as he caught her face in his palms and gazed down at her in the dim light of the entryway. “Are you sure?”
No matter what waited for them down the road, Morgan didn’t want to live the rest of her life without having made love to him. “I’m sure. I’m taking your advice and asking for help, Gage.” She trailed her lips across his cheek, rubbed her skin against the roughness of his. Who knew stubble could be sexy? Erotic? Arousing.
“Help with what?” His hands were already roaming, slipping under her shirt and over her back.
She shivered and grinned. “There are some things a girl shouldn’t have to do on her own.”
He kissed her, long and deep, and when he lifted his mouth, he whispered, “I think that’s about the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.” He bent down and scooped her up in his arms, setting her heart to soar. “Bedroom that way?”
“Mmmm.” Thank goodness she’d made the bed this morning. She pressed her lips against his throat, kissed him, nipped him. Licked him.
He’d barely set her on the bed when she reached for the zipper on his pants, only to have him catch her hands in his and pull them away.
He brought her hands to his mouth, kissed her fingers as he smiled. “Let’s start someplace else,” he murmured, and walked over to close the shutters and turn on the bedside lamp.
Morgan’s courage faltered with the spotlight. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked anywhere but at him as he returned to her and slid his hands down her arms.
“Morgan, look at me,” he ordered, as if he could read her thoughts.
She cringed, lifted her chin, but not her gaze. He bent down in front of her and caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger.
“You are beautiful. Inside and out. I thought so the minute I first saw those sexy legs of yours come out of that Mustang. I’ve dreamt of nothing else but those legs around me, holding me to you, keeping me inside you.” He pressed his lips against hers until she melted against him and her arms went lax.
He moved slower this time, taking the hem of her wet shirt in his hands and, inch by inch, drawing the fabric up over her ribs, above her breasts. She inhaled him and lifted her arms.
Gage tossed the shirt away and, taking both her wrists in one hand, stretched her out on the bed and settled himself beside her.
He kissed her again and Morgan felt her heart clench at the tenderness of it. He coaxed her lips apart with his tongue, as if asking her permission to delve deeper. She stretched up against him, desperate to feel his naked flesh against hers. She twisted and turned to get to him, only to have him hold her firm as he wedged a fabric-clad leg between hers.
She gasped, tearing her mouth free, and he trailed hot, moist kisses down her throat. He released her hands and skimmed the valley between her breasts before sliding his hands down the sides of her body and then up again to cup her breasts in his palms through the plain white bra. She groaned as her nipples hardened and strained against the cotton. He glided his fingers around her rib cage and released the clasp. Drawing the straps down her arms, he tossed the fabric away and brought her right breast up to his lips.
He kissed her there, drawing the peak into his mouth and laving her with his tongue. She whimpered, tightened her legs around him as the heat built between her still-clad thighs. Morgan dove her hands into his hair and held him against her, not wanting him to stop, wanting nothing more than to feel him hot and heavy inside of her.
Only he could ease the ache that grew deep in her belly. Never in her life had she felt this much, needed this much from another human being. She felt so wanted, so desired, as Gage shifted to treat her other breast to the same erotic care.
She raked her nails up his back and around his shoulders as he lowered himself on top of her. Finally, the weight of him descended and the sensation of crisp, curly hair scraping her bare skin sent her reeling.
“Gage,” she gasped, and cupped his face to drag him to her mouth. She kissed him hungrily, drawing his tongue into her mouth as if she couldn’t get enough. Because she couldn’t. She didn’t want this to end. She never wanted to be without him.
He shifted and she raised her leg then hooked it around his hip as she pressed up and against him. He was so hard, so ready for her, that she felt her feminine power ignite. She planted her hands on his shoulders and shoved him onto his back.
Before he could react, she climbed on top of him and straddled his hips. She stared down at him, her long, damp hair draping them like a screen. He stared up at her for a long moment, as if he wanted to say something, needed to, but she kissed him gently, shook her head.
“Not now,” she whispered. “I don’t want to talk.” She rubbed herself against him, feeling the pressure begin to grow once again. He dropped his hands to her hips, his fingers sliding under the band of her shorts, flipping open the button, drawing down the zipper until he slipped his hand around and found her, hot and wet. Morgan groaned. His. She bit her lip as she lifted herself on his hand. She was all his.
She arched against him as his fingers probed her depths, circling and teasing, in and out, as her hips fell into rhythm with his touch.
“Gage,” she gasped as she felt herself cresting. “Gage, stop.” But she didn’t want him to.
“No talking,” he ordered, increasing his pace. She cried out as she rode toward the peak. “That’s it,” he urged. “Let go, Morgan.”
Her body rocked as the orgasm ripped through her. She felt herself clench his fingers, holding him inside of her as her body exploded into a million stars.
She collapsed on top of him, unable to catch her breath before he rolled her under him and drew the last of her clothing from her body.
“Gage,” she murmured as he kissed her again. She tangled her fingers in his hair, loving the silky softness, how it grazed over her hand like the finest silk.
“Oh, baby,” he breathed into her mouth, “we’re just getting started.”
He withdrew from her grasp and reached into his back pocket before he rid himself of his pants.
She looked at him, standing there in his naked glory, and felt a wave of pride wash over her that this man wanted her. This amazing, wonderful man thought she was worthy of him. The fierce love she felt for Gage washed over her, and she let go and let herself be dragged under.
He returned to the bed, stared down at her as she lay completely exposed and satiated. She smiled up at him as he tore open the foil packet.
“Thanks to those legs of yours, I bought these weeks ago.”
She lifted her foot and trailed her toes down his arm. “These?” she teased. “You mean it has friends?”
He let out a growl that had her laughing as he covered himself and settled on top of her once again. His hands gripped her hips as he lowered his head, kissed her belly, her navel, brushed his chin against the mass of curls between her thighs.
Morgan arched off the bed as he dipped his fingers into her heat and tested her, probing gently. Just when she thought she’d go mad from waiting, she felt the strength of him pressing against her, sliding torturously into her. She inhaled sharply, forced herself to relax against the desired invasion.
He withdrew slightly, cupped her hips once again in his hands, and then pushed in again, only to slip himself nearly free. Again, and again, until she couldn’t take any more.
Morgan wrapped her legs up and around his hips and pulled him down and into her. She cried out as he filled her, heard him hiss as he struggled to keep control. She clenched her thighs around him, felt him pulse inside of her. She bit her lip to stop the groan. This was heaven. Tears burned her eyes, leaked out of the corners, as she took the few seconds to burn him into her memory.
He felt so right, so perfect, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and exposed her throat to his mouth.
Gage sank his teeth into the sensitive spot on her neck as he moved inside of her. She could feel every inch of him stretching and filling her over and over as the muscles in his back strained. She wanted him faster, harder, and thrust her hips up to meet his, driving him even deeper into her.
They groaned together as his hands searched for hers, his fingers tangling with hers and dragging her arms above her head. She stretched her torso as he increased his thrusts. She felt him expanding inside of her, knew he was on the edge, and she clenched herself around him as she felt herself going over with him.
He fused his mouth to hers as he spilled into her, triggering her second orgasm of the night. Wrapped around him, she rode the slow descent in his arms, listening to his ragged breathing as he rolled over and drew her with him.
This was so perfect. She didn’t want to forget this moment, how she felt, how he felt. But already it was slipping away.
“Everything’s okay, Morgan.” He murmured the words as they drifted into sleep.
She shimmied up his body and pressed her lips to his, keeping her eyes on his as their tongues swept over each other in renewed passion. Then she was under him once more, felt him hardening inside of her again.
She caught his face in her hands and brought him as close as two people could be. Staring into his eyes, feeling his soul brush against hers, any words she might have uttered lodged in her throat. Would she remember what her life had been like before him? Once he learned the truth, once he learned what she’d done and walked away, would she ever be whole without him? “Everything’s perfect.” She stroked her thumbs across his lips.
For now.