Everywhere and Every Way(37)

"Yeah, I talked to him. Said he could fix it. If not, I have a contact who'll help me. He owes me a favor."

She raised a brow. "Why does that line make me nervous?"

Cal poured champagne into two flutes and slid one over to her. "No mob, I  promise. Just a good friend who gave me one rabbit in the hat to pull. I  say this situation calls for the pull."

"Dalton may fix it, and you won't need to use your only favor."

"We'll see. When it comes to my youngest brother, trust is not a word I use lightly."

"Because of your ex-fiancée?" The words tumbled out before she was able  to catch them. Heat burned her cheeks. Hadn't she just given herself a  mental pep talk about keeping things light?         

     



 

He regarded her for a while before lifting the glass to his lips and  taking a sip. He never took his hot gaze off her face. "Probably. It  broke the trust. Then afterward he refused to tell me the truth."

"How do you know he wasn't telling the truth?"

"My brother is a master at putting moves on women. He'd been jealous of  getting pushed aside in the business, and this was his way of getting  even. It coincided with a huge fight we had. Guess he got the last laugh  after all."

"I see." He'd finally answered one of her important questions. Cal had  been so blinded by love, he'd chosen to believe his brother was the liar  rather than face the truth that he'd been played. Much easier to turn  all that disgust and anger toward a sibling. The closest people in life  usually got the worst of the emotional carnage. What if Dalton really  had been trying to tell his brother a hard truth Cal hadn't wanted to  hear? "Did you ever sit and get the full story?"

"No need. Besides, it's the past, and we're both tired of dredging it up. How about you? Any broken love affairs to share?"

She flinched and took a sip of champagne. The bubbles danced in her  throat. Tit for tat? Morgan kept her voice light, trying to give him  information without the truth. "Ex-fiancé. Elias. He was the proper  Southern gentleman ready to offer me a proper Southern life. It worked  well for a while until life got a bit messy."

His gaze narrowed. How was it those light gray eyes could turn to smoky  charcoal when he got all intense? "He didn't want to stick?"

She drank more champagne and gave a tiny laugh. "Yep. He did me a favor.  I would've been bored and stuck in a role that wasn't for me. Now he's  married with kids and has the perfect life he dreamed of. Hurtful, but  not traumatic."

"Liar."

Her fingers jerked over the glass. A thin trickle of champagne fell on her hand. "What?"

Cal leaned forward. "I called you a liar. It was traumatic to you for some reason. Why did he leave you?"

She forced a laugh. "I couldn't give him something he wanted." The words were painful to utter.

"Tell me."

Irritation simmered. Why did he suddenly want to go deep? This was just  dinner. He'd offered sex. Nothing more, nothing less. His delving into  her personal life shouldn't leave her feeling so vulnerable. "Something  important to him. I really don't want to get into it."

His gaze settled on her mouth with raw intensity. Her skin tingled as  the reminder of his lips sliding over hers hit her memory and her body.  "Fair enough." He paused. "Do relationships scare you?"

Startled, she struggled to answer. Her defenses slammed up. "Doesn't it scare you?" she shot back.

To her surprise, he gave a half smile, refusing to retreat. "Maybe.  Maybe not if I found the right woman. I'm not scared of love, Morgan.  I'm scared of screwing up again with someone who doesn't feel the same  way."

Her heart skittered in her chest, barely able to keep up her breathing.  His words held a truth and an intimacy she hadn't expected from tonight,  especially so early. As if he sensed her hovering on the brink, he  reached out and pushed her over.

"I'll tell you this: he was an asshole if he wanted anything more than he wanted you."

The words struck deep and healed her heart. The air charged with lit  sexual tension. They stared at one another, gripped in a swirling cycle  of need and want for connection, and Morgan ached to bury her head  against his strong chest and let him hold her. Instead, she fought to  get back on neutral footing.

"I had no idea we'd engage in dual therapy before dinner," she said. "What are we having?"

After a tense moment, her breath released. He drew back, following her  lead. "Porterhouse steak with a balsamic glaze. Roasted potatoes.  Asparagus."

She choked on her champagne. "Did you order out or really know how to cook this?"

Cal grinned. The boyish charm on such a masculine body was a killer  combination. "I'm a good cook when I want to be. I've prepped most of  it. Think you can help me cut up the asparagus while I check on the  meat?"

"I think I can manage." She couldn't remember the last time she'd cooked  or helped someone in the kitchen. The domestic scene wrapped around her  with warmth. Instead of fighting it, Morgan swore to enjoy the evening.

He dropped a bag of asparagus, a cutting board, and a knife on the  marble island. "Good. Oh, and on another note, I completely disagree."

She slid the tools over to her side and began washing her hands in the prep sink. "On what?"         

     



 

"Tristan interrupting us. You said it was good he stopped us from going  too far." A wolfish gleam entered his eyes. "I disagree. We haven't gone  far enough." His voice dropped to a husky growl. "But I intend to  correct that problem. Later."

She stared at him, unable to form a word. He practically bristled with  confidence and a sexual predatory scent that intoxicated her. Morgan  should warn him off now. Remind him this was just about dinner and had  nothing to do with dessert. Instead, she kept mute and heard his chuckle  echo through the air. "Don't worry about it now, princess. That  asparagus needs your full attention."

And with that, he stalked out of the kitchen.

Damn the man.


Yeah, he wanted her.

Bad.

Cal studied Morgan from across the table. He enjoyed watching her eat.  Each movement was graceful and economical, from the way she cut her meat  into perfect squares to the smooth arc of her fork lifting and  disappearing into that delectable mouth.

His shorts were already way too tight. Cal shifted in his seat, trying  not to focus on the way her tongue slid over her plump bottom lip in an  effort to soak up the last of the juice. Crap, when had a woman eating  made him want to come in his pants like a teen?

His words definitely put her on edge. Her conversation was deliberately  light and stayed far away from any deep topics, including physical  intimacy. He should've been frustrated. Instead, he was filled with an  anticipation that rivaled Christmas mornings when he'd discovered  numerous gaily wrapped presents under the tree, begging to be torn open.  She was so damn . . . pretty. With her silvery blond hair curled just  right to flip at the curve of her jaw and those wide blue eyes he wanted  to see fogged with hunger. For him. Silver hoops caught the light as  she neatly tucked a few stray strands behind her ear. Her scent danced  in his nostrils. No musk or smoky perfume for her. Just the freshness of  soap and cucumber and female skin, sexier than a bottle of opium. Her  lemon-colored blouse kept sliding over her shoulder, exposing white,  unblemished skin and the delicate strap of a cream-colored bra. He  couldn't seem to take his gaze off that glimpse of exposed flesh. With  unconscious motions, she kept shrugging it back, only to let it slowly  fall again until the top curve of her full breast peeked at him.

The game of hide-and-seek was driving him crazy. Cal knew she wanted  him. It was in the wariness gleaming in her eyes, the slight trembling  of her fingers, the rapidly beating pulse at the base of her neck. He  had no need to scare her with any outrageous remarks or bold moves. He  enjoyed the subtle game of male to female-the chase, the capture, and  the reward.

No need to hurry his pleasure.

Thing was, it was more than physical for him. He wanted this particular  woman in his bed. He craved her particular smell and touch and kiss. He  wanted to hear his name dragged from her lips. He wanted to make Morgan  Raines come hard wrapped up in his arms. It had happened so gradually,  working side by side, his initial irritation turning into amusement, and  then fascination. The woman had gotten under his skin. The past few  years, he'd only experienced brief, shallow relationships. Agreement on  both sides, of course, because building houses came first, and most  women were honest enough to admit they wanted something more from him.  It wasn't that he was spooked by the prospect of a more permanent  relationship. It was simply that no woman had tempted him to want more.

Until now.

"This meal is superb," she said, dabbing her mouth with the napkin. "I have to admit I doubted you."