parading their single men in front of me like it was a cattle auction. And I don’t need to hear how I should settle down and have a passel of kids, or—”
“That still doesn’t explain why you told them you were engaged.”
“I didn’t tell them I was engaged,” she said, her brows pulling together in a frown. She let out another sigh, this one filled with frustration. “My parents are very traditional, so when Carly and Dean got engaged, my folks hosted an engagement party. I couldn’t send my regrets without disappointing my baby sister, but when my own grandmother attempted to fix me up with the grandson of one of her oldest friends, that was enough.”
He hid a smile at the outrage tingeing her voice. She obviously perceived the fix-up as a betrayal by her grandmother. “So then you told them you were engaged.”
“No. I told Luther that I wasn’t interested. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so I fudged the truth and told him I was already involved, but I meant with my career.”
“The demanding mistress,” he said, unable to keep the hardness out of his voice.
“One thing led to another,” she continued, unaware of his bitterness, “and I couldn’t say anything without hurting Luther and possibly damaging a fifty-year friendship between our grandmothers. And then my family assumed…” She let out another frustration-filled puff of breath and leaned back against the cushions. “Suffice it to say, this has turned into a nightmare of epic proportions.”
“Tell them the truth,” he said. Wasn’t the truth always the best path? At least that’s what he’d taught Raina and Will.
She dropped her head against the back of the sofa and briefly closed her eyes. “God, I wish I could.”
Two things struck him, hard. Jill Cassidy wasn’t a liar condemned to purgatory for all eternity, as she believed. He could tell by the simple fact that she had no trouble opening up to him, a virtual stranger. The other was more difficult to face.
He wanted her. He couldn’t explain it, but he didn’t need to rationalize, analyze or otherwise examine his attraction to her. He’d never been one to dissect his feelings, and he wasn’t about to start now. If he wanted something, he went after it, and more often than not, he got exactly what he wanted. The thought of being cast in the role as her fiancé, with all those unconscious touches, secret smiles and the unspoken dialogue between lovers connecting on their own level, held a lot of appeal.
She turned her head slightly to the side and looked at him with those big, clear sapphire eyes he wanted to see filled with heat and need. “I hate lying to my family. Don’t get me wrong, I do love them, and the last thing I’d ever want is to hurt them, but to be honest…it’s been a relief going home recently without having to worry about the bachelor parade.”
He shifted on the love seat and leaned forward. “Have you eaten?”
She glanced at her watch. “I had a pasta salad over eight hours ago. Since we still need to go over Eddie’s case, I could do the food thing.”
“I don’t have anything fancy,” he said, rising. “Leftover stew okay with you?”
She stood and smiled. “Lead the way. My stomach’s been demanding attention for the past twenty minutes.”
He waited while she bent to retrieve her pad and pen. The sight of her very feminine posterior pressing provocatively against her navy linen skirt had his heart ricocheting around in his chest. He looked away before he started drooling like a starving mutt.
“Morgan?”
He dragged his gaze back to her face. Still bent over the table, her delicate hand resting on the legal pad, she looked up at him, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.
He frowned. “Yeah?”
“Would you mind terribly if I took off my shoes?” she asked, straightening. “It’s been a long day.”
He shrugged. “Sure, go ahead,” he said, figuring her odd request was probably one of those midwestern nuances about a lady in the presence of a gentleman—something his casual, Southern California upbringing couldn’t hope to understand.
His smile was strained at best as she slipped off a pair of stylish navy pumps and sighed, curling her toes into the carpet. Her toenails were painted, and he was a sucker for painted toenails. He looked closer and nearly groaned.
Red.
A startling, deep, sensual red.
He was an even bigger sucker for anything red on a woman. Red like fire, representative of the sensual heat women generated when fired up just right.
He blew out a slow stream of breath that did nothing to quell the image of Jill lying before him in a red satin teddy awaiting his pleasure. “This way,” he said, then headed into the kitchen, hoping to rein in his runaway erotic fantasies along the way.
She followed and perched on the thin cushion of a bar stool with her legal pad in front of her. “Okay, tell me about Eddie. I’m assuming he’s still in custody.”
He pulled a large pot from the cabinet. “In a minute,” he said, crossing the kitchen to the refrigerator to retrieve the leftover beef stew. No matter how selfish, the last thing he wanted to discuss right now was Eddie’s legal problems. He wanted to know more about Jill. Considering the headaches and the frustration Eddie’s twenty-first birthday party had cost the company, and him, another few minutes of conversation that would no doubt reveal more about his blackmailing, resourceful angel wouldn’t cause a bit more damage.
He dumped the stew into the pot, then set the burner to low. “There’s still something I don’t understand,” he said, crossing back to the refrigerator. He pulled out two sodas, lifting them for her inspection.
She shook her head and tapped her half-full glass of water. “What’s that?”
Unspoken dialogue between lovers…
He shook the thought from his mind and concentrated on their verbal communication. “Couldn’t you fabricate some reason as to why your fiancé can’t make it?”
She started tapping her fingers on the pad again. “Since this entire mess started, I’ve been home twice, both times with a convenient excuse as to why my intended had to stay behind.”
“So what’s one more excuse?” he asked, pulling out the bar stool across from her.
“Because the good reverend made it crystal-clear he expected to ‘meet my young man.’ An auspicious occasion such as Carly’s wedding is no doubt the perfect time to inspect and interrogate his future son-in-law.”
Morgan knew he was playing with fire by agreeing to her terms, but he really didn’t have much choice. He’d promised his men he’d take care of the problem, and he wouldn’t disappoint them. “All right,” he said, a reluctant grin tugging his lips when hope filled her gaze. “Eddie’s being arraigned in the morning. I guess you’ve got yourself a fiancé.”
Her smile was perilous to his central nervous system, and brighter than California sunshine.
She reached across the Formica countertop and settled her hand over his forearm. A current of electricity sparked and sizzled between them. “Thank you, Morgan,” she said quietly, a light frown creasing her brow.
Did she feel it, too? he wondered as her fingers slowly slid from his arm. Had she been experiencing that same sensual pull that had been plaguing him since he’d first set eyes on her?
“Yes, well.” She looked away and gently cleared her throat. The moment passed, but the truth remained. There was a definite sexual attraction at work. Whether or not they explored the possibilities was another matter altogether. Regardless of how much he wanted the angel with the heavenly body and red polished toenails, one simple fact remained: any carnal liaison they might take pleasure in would be temporary. Jill Cassidy was a career woman, and he’d made the firm resolution