Wicked Ties(14)

let you set foot outside until he’s convinced you can pass the test. He takes protecting

clients seriously.”

The idea of Jack inspecting her made her stomach jump. Jack was gorgeous, and the

fact he was a dominant man only intrigued Morgan more, despite her wariness and fear.

Securing the long blonde wig in place, Morgan pushed the thought away. She was just

tired. Lord knew she was stressed. She would not be having sex with Jack, so his sexual

preferences made absolutely no difference to her.

Someone pounded on the door. Morgan started, her heart racing. Had the shooter

managed to follow her here? She cut her gaze to the window, hoping it might prove to be

an escape route.

Then the door opened. Jack entered, wearing a ratty T-shirt and faded jeans, a

backward baseball cap, and a false moustache. Those few external changes made him

look considerably different. But she still couldn’t miss his pissed-off expression.

“Damn it, what are you two doing in here, having a slumber party?”

“Bite me, Jack. I worked as fast as I could since I need to get back to business,” Alyssa

said with a smile, then kissed his cheek. “And good luck to you,” she threw back to

Morgan.

Then she exited, leaving Morgan alone with Jack.

His gaze flew across the room and latched onto her. Black eyes scorched her, and a

slow, sinful smile spread across his mouth. That look made her stomach clench. Quickly

realizing she wore nothing but a revealing bra and thong, she glanced around for

something—anything—to cover her.

She darted across the room and reached for the white satin sheet draped off the bed.

Jack ripped it out of her hand.

“No time for modesty, cher,” he whispered in her ear, his voice inflected with a lilt

that was decidedly Cajun French.

His body buffeted her backside, legs glancing hers, chest brushing her shoulders. The

heat he gave off warmed skin she hadn’t realized was chilled. Despite his heat, goose

bumps multiplied their way across her skin and a shiver ran down her spine. Her nipples

made a sudden, unwelcome appearance.

She swallowed. He might be one of the good guys, but at the moment, his posture

was pure predator.

“I don’t need you in here while I get dressed.”

“Mais yeah, too bad for you I plan to supervise. We aren’t leaving here until I’m

convinced you can pass for Alyssa.”

“I’ve been putting on my own clothes since I was three. I think I can manage alone.”

“True, but I use Alyssa as cover for cases. We walk around pretending we’re drunk on

hurricanes and sex. People are used to seeing me touch her. Often. But you…” He snaked

a hand around her and laid a palm flat on her belly.

She jerked and gasped when his broad hand blanketed her bare midriff, his heat

seeping under her skin, insidious, unstoppable.

“You,” he murmured in her ear, “jump when I touch you. You do that in public, and

people will know you’re not Alyssa.”

With every word, Jack made her more aware that he was male—all male—and she was

female. He had the kind of personal power that drew her. Her stomach flipped when he

spoke. Her breasts swelled. She felt jumpy, unsettled, when he stood too close. Morgan

swallowed tension so thick she thought it might choke her and tried to ease away from

him.

Jack didn’t budge—or let her go.

Gnashing her teeth, she said, “There must be another way out of here besides you

pawing me.”

“I wouldn’t take that bet. You wanna make it out in one piece, cher, without your

stalker recognizing you through your disguise, you’ve got to act right. We’ve got to look

real.”

The hand on her stomach started inching slowly north.

Morgan’s brain buzzed with the intimation in his words. He would touch her out in

public, where complete strangers would see. Instantly, her breasts swelled again.

Moisture gathered between her legs.

This is impossible. She wasn’t into public displays. And Jack’s caveman tendencies

shouldn’t be arousing her. Having such fantasies was one thing. Living them…that was

completely different. Stupid to indulge, especially with a stranger.

Jack interrupted her thoughts by cradling her breast between his thumb and fingers

—and continuing to inch up.

Until Morgan slapped her hand around his wrist to stop him. “I don’t believe you.

You don’t need to touch me that intimately to get me out of here.”

He stopped the upward progress of his hand. “Less than an hour with me, and

suddenly you’re the security expert?”

“This isn’t a game. It’s my life!”

“Exactly,” he growled into her ear. “Locals, not necessarily the trustworthy ones, will