Morgan took a deep breath, trying to quell her uneasiness. It wasn’t hard to imagine that if a psycho would follow her from Los Angeles to Houston, he’d go the extra mile to trail her to
Lafayette. She was probably safe sitting here in the middle of a sunny public square, but if he recognized her, he’d see her with Master J and make assumptions that would make him even angrier than the appearance that she was marrying Brandon. Then when night fell, and she was alone in Brandon’s house…
No, she couldn’t think that now. She would have to keep this all business, so that if her stalker identified her and watched this meeting, he wouldn’t assume anything sexual between her and Master J.
She adjusted the scarf and hat to make sure they completely covered her hair, and pushed the
sunglasses up on her face. Maybe she was being paranoid. No one should be able to recognize her like this. Maybe after this interview, she would slip away to that cozy European-looking bed and breakfast she’d seen on her way into town and catch up on sleep so she could figure out how to shake this stalker.
A waiter came by with a wide smile, white teeth stark against his ebony skin. Morgan did her best to smile back as she ordered iced tea.
Once he’d gone, she tugged the boxy, lightweight coat she’d dragged out of Brandon’s closet
down over her hips and flipped up the collar. The waiter arrived with her tea. She checked her watch again. Five after three. She’d give Master J another few minutes. Sitting here in the open, vulnerable to the sick man who’d been following her…suddenly it struck her as very unwise.
“You must be Morgan.”
The deep whisper came from behind her, delivered right in her ear. His warm breath cascaded
down the side of her neck, and she gave an involuntary shiver.
She started, turned, stunned anyone had been able to sneak up on her, as jumpy as she was. But he’d been utterly silent.
And he was breathtakingly gorgeous.
Thick, dark hair teased his broad forehead. An angular jaw and cleft chin dusted with a five
o’clock shadow shouted his masculinity with all the subtlety of a sonic boom. His wide mouth curled up with an expression that looked half smile, half challenge. But, oh, his eyes. They captured her.
Accented by a sweep of black brows, those knowing eyes of his watched her, as if he could see deep inside her. As if he knew all her secrets.
Allowing her gaze to wander south didn’t help tame her pulse, either. Master J stood about six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a body of well-honed muscle evident under a tight black T-shirt that made her think of a mountain with its solid, quiet permanence. No one could move a mountain.
No one was going to move this man either, unless he wanted to be moved.
Just staring at him jolted her with attraction and a healthy dose of lust.
Thank goodness their time alone would be limited to this one meeting in public. Otherwise,
Morgan didn’t think she could be responsible for her behavior.
She swallowed, trying to find her voice. “Yes, I’m Morgan.”
When she stuck out her hand, he didn’t just shake it. Too simple. Tangling his gaze with hers, he bent and brought her hand to his mouth, placing a kiss on her fingers.
Oh, dear God. . .
Fire raced up her arm, turning her heartbeat into a staccato chug. He lingered, a hot breath
caressing the back of her hand, his fingertips teasing the sensitive center of her palm. Tingles burst across her skin, up her arm.
His effect on her didn’t end there. Instead, the impact of his presence, his touch, dove deep inside her, where an ache began to pulse gently between her legs. As if her clit needed to announce the fact her libido wanted to get naked with this man.
Business, business! The demand chased itself in her head.
With a discreet tug, Morgan pulled her hand free. Master J smiled as he sat beside her—rather than across—and scooted his chair a few inches closer. She tried to ignore her awareness his thigh brushing hers, the tingling under her skin.
“Thank you for meeting me here, Mr… What would you like me to call you, since I don’t know
your name?”
That grin seemed to taunt her with her own uncertainty and his wicked knowledge of their
forthcoming sexual discussion. “For now, just call me sir.”
“Okay. Yes, sir.”
The moment the words were out of her mouth, Morgan realized how sexual they sounded. How
sexual he’d intended they sound. Not just deferential, though they were that, too. But around Master J, she just couldn’t seem to muster enough air to power her voice beyond a husky murmur.
What would it be like to call him sir in private?
Despite the dark sunglasses shielding her, his dark eyes seemed to dance with the knowledge of her every thought, every sinful feeling, as he held her gaze, as if he could read the desire all over her face.