never had so much as a flower disturbed in the twenty years he’d been running the place.
And that sounded like heaven to Morgan. She wanted to lay down and sleep for a week,
and after tonight, she just might.
But she had to take care of a few things first.
Dragging her laptop out, Morgan hunkered down in the plush king-sized bed and
dashed off an email to Brandon. She explained about the damage to his house and
promised to return to Houston and get the repairs started. She told him she was alive
and safe, that Jack had been watching over her. She sent him the name of her hotel
tonight in case he could contact her—and not much more. How could she possibly
explain to ultra-responsible Brandon that she had fallen for a stranger in a handful of
days? Then, after beseeching him to stay safe in Iraq, she grabbed her phone. She’d read
on the Internet that sometimes confronting your stalker with a firm no could make them
go away. Maybe that tactic would work with Reggie. But one glance at her phone told her
there’d be no calling Reggie tonight. Her phone was deader than dead. Damn!
Resigned that everything would wait until tomorrow, she headed for the blissful
steam of a shower.
Twenty minutes and two travel sized-bottles of shampoo later, Morgan emerged from
the charming pedastal-sinked bathroom.
Only she wasn’t alone anymore.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“J—Jack?” Her stomach clenched into a tight ball, then fell to her knees.
He stood just outside the bathroom door, big and broad and tense with fight,
completely blocking her in and covering both her exits. Morgan licked suddenly dry lips.
Most people might mistake that expression on his face for flat. Uh-huh, she knew better.
And she shivered.
“How did you…?”
She glanced at the clock visible on the wall just above his shoulder. Deke had told her
Jack would probably catch up with her in forty-five minutes. He’d done it in thirty-seven.
All while maintaining tight control over his anger—barely. The clenching fists, the
thick veins roping his forearms, his taut jaw, the inky slashes of his brows over reproving
dark eyes, she could hardly miss all that.
Nor could she miss the raging erection pushing against the front of his jeans. But it
was in her best interest to try like hell.
Jack reached for her purse, dumped it upside down, scattering the contents all over a
little round table. He extracted a little black one-by-one inch plastic device. The little gray letters GPS on the back told her everything she needed to know.
Damn! Deke had slipped that into her purse, probably when she’d dumped its
contents everywhere after he’d “accidentally” bumped her and he’d “helped” pick it all
back up. Morgan made a mental note to slap him silly when— No, she wouldn’t see him
again.
“He gave you the means to hunt me down,” she spat.
“I would have found you, no matter how long it took. No matter what I had to do.
Deke just made it easier. I wasn’t far behind you, anyway.”
Morgan muttered an impossible wish under her breath.
“No, I won’t leave you the hell alone. In fact, I have a question: Are you out of your
fucking mind?”
“For wanting to get away from you after your mortifying exit earlier this evening?
Gee, I must be.”
He flinched. Oh, it was subtle, but she knew Jack well enough to catch it.
“Fuck!” He raked a hand through dark hair and stalked closer. “Alyssa called me
when you left the club and told me about the pictures and the note. Deke confirmed.
What the hell were you thinking? Or were you hoping your dangerous admirer would
just pack it up and go home?”
“He couldn’t have any way to follow me here. I’m safe for a night or two. After
that…” She shrugged. “You’re not the only person on the planet capable of helping me
stay safe.”
Apparently not liking that answer, Jack stepped closer, looking big and dominant and
worried as hell under all that anger.
“Know someone else who’s a qualified bodyguard? Who you gonna let protect you?”
“I don’t think it’s any of your business anymore.”
“Why, because I behaved like an ass earlier tonight? Don’t look shocked. I was wrong
and I’m saying so. I’m sorry.”
Jack apologizing, just like that? No. It was too simple. There had to be a
catch…“You’re only willing to apologize so I’ll be a good little girl, come back, and let
you tear me down again.”
“I’m willing to apologize so I don’t lose you. But whether you forgive me or not, I’m
not letting this sick bastard anywhere near you.”