Wicked Ties(66)

that came with velvet bonds and spankings and acts that both horrified and fascinated.

And why was she even contemplating anything she might share with Jack beyond last

night?

He had challenged her to give herself to him for a night. Fine. She had. It wasn’t

going to happen again. Now they just had to divine the identity of this stalker and she

could get back to her life…and somehow forget Jack before she lost herself in him.

On the bright side, when it came time to film the episode of Turn Me On that dealt

with domination, she’d be well prepared.

With a sour smile at her own bad humor, Morgan rose and fished around the room

for something to hide her nakedness and ward off the morning’s chill. A huge sweatshirt

of Jack’s that hung to mid-thigh and a pair of socks later, she finger-combed her hair to

rid it of the worst of the tangles. Damn, she couldn’t even find a pair of underwear. And

the rest would have to wait. The way her stomach was rumbling, she needed food.

With a deep breath, Morgan opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hall.

The last thing she expected to see was another man standing in the middle of the

living/kitchen area.

Built hard with obviously Germanic ancestors, the man rose about three inches above

Jack, who was no midget himself. Hair the color of rich caramel cut military short, a

square jaw, and shoulders a mile wide all screamed male! But it was the eyes, bright,

razor-sharp, deep denim blue…slashing over Jack’s shoulder to focus on her with cool

assessment—and hot reaction— that startled Morgan.

This stranger could probably guess that she’d spent the night having sex with Jack.

As if her own licentious behavior hadn’t been bad enough, this new realization sent a

fresh flush of mortification rising up her cheeks.

Jack turned to find her frozen in the hall. She probably had that deer-in-the-

headlights look, she thought, forcing herself to take a deep breath and meet the

stranger’s gaze.

“Morgan,” Jack called.

She cut her glance to him. My, he looked yummy in the morning. Just his voice, low,

gravelly, with a hint of command, both reassured her and made her wet again. Bad, bad

sign.

Her belly jumped, her cheeks flushing again when she remembered for the second

time everything they’d done the night before.

His dark eyes burned with memories, even as he crossed his arms over his massive

chest, jaw tense. His posture did not invite morning-after affection, even if she’d been so

inclined. Was this remote man the same one who’d tangled his limbs with hers in a

warm embrace of protection during the dark of the night?

“This is my business partner, Deke Trenton,” he simply said.

Jack and this newcomer, they might look a bit like day and night, light and dark, but

with iron bodies and hard eyes, they were cut from the same military cloth. She shivered.

Too much testosterone in one room.

The big warrior stepped around Jack and extended his hand with a friendly smile that

changed his whole face from forbidding to surprisingly approachable.

Haltingly, she held her hand out to him, and they shook. “Morgan O’Malley.”

“Jack, you asshole. Hoarding the pretty girls again. I really ought to beat your ass for

that.”

He snorted. “Yeah, you try.”

Deke grinned. “Later. Outside. You, me, and the gators.” He turned to Morgan with a

conspiratorial whisper. “Ask me, and I’ll tell you who to place your money on. Better yet,

maybe I can convince you to grant the winner a kiss. Then I promise it won’t be any

contest.”

His gentle teasing set her at ease immediately. Despite the awkward situation, she felt

herself relax and smile back.

“I’m not the human equivalent of a poker chip,” Morgan teased with a roll of her

eyes.

“Good girl,” Jack praised. “And if my business partner doesn’t stop messing where

he hasn’t been invited, he’s going to find his face one bloody blob—uglier than it already

is.”

Deke laughed and sauntered back toward Jack, slapping him on the shoulder. “You’re

so damn subtle, Jack.” He cast another heated look in her direction, gaze lingering on her

bare legs and the outline of her unbound breasts through the sweatshirt. “And you’re

one lucky bastard.”

Morgan bit her lip under his appraising gaze, at once discomfited. And shamefully

intrigued. Deke looked like something out of a hard-core war film—not at all her type.

Neither was Jack, for that matter. But… never mind; she wasn’t going there.

“Did you come here for a reason? Or just to torment me?” Jack shot back acidly.