Meant To Be

A Cerridwen Press Publication

www.cerridwenpress.com

Meant to Be ISBN #1-4199-0486-8 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Meant to Be Copyright© 2006 Denise A. Agnew Edited by Sue-Ellen Gower. Cover art by Willo. Electronic book Publication: January 2006

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing Inc., 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously. Cerridwen Press is an imprint of Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.®

MEANT TO BE Denise A. Agnew

Acknowledgements To my husband Terry, the best friend I could ever have.

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Band-Aid: Johnson & Johnson Cracker Jack: Frito-Lay North America, Inc. Dom Perignon: Schieffelin & Co. Dudley-Do-Right: Ward Productions, Inc. Energizer Bunny: Eveready Battery Company, Inc. Ken: Mattel, Inc. Land Rover: Land Rover Mack: Mack Trucks, Inc. Monopoly: Hasbro, Inc. Speedo: Speedo Holdings B.V. Tiffany: Tiffany and Co.

Meant to Be

Chapter One Seven days and seven nights, all expenses paid vacation at the famous Heart Inn Resort nestled in a romantic valley deep in the majestic Rocky Mountains. Courtney caressed the creamy white, expensive notepaper as if it were a lustrous fabric. Impossible. Things like this didn’t happen to her. She, Courtney Ann Devons, had never won a thing in her life. At least not until that moment. “I won.” Courtney swiveled the rickety office chair and jumped up. “I won!” Rachel Higgins, Courtney’s friend and accomplice in the tiny business of Devons and Higgins Accountants, appeared at the doorway to Courtney’s lunchbox-size office. “No way.” “Way.” Courtney grinned, feeling a sense of wellbeing all out of proportion to the prize. Rachel returned her smile and leaned against the doorjamb. She pushed a lock of her long, dark hair away from her face. “What did you get? Movie passes?” Courtney wrinkled her nose then walked over and handed Rachel the notice. “Nada. This is ten times better.” Rachel’s mouth dropped open as she read. “Wow. This is great. The Heart Inn Resort? That’s one of the most exclusive resorts in the Rockies.” She cocked an eyebrow and looked up at Courtney. “What’s the catch?” “No catch. I signed up for it at that bridal show we went to three weeks ago. Hell, I forgot all about the drawing until I opened the mail just now and…violà.” Rachel shook her head and handed the card back to Courtney. “Wouldn’t you know it. I’m the one getting married in four weeks and you win the honeymoon.” Courtney sighed and sank back into her chair. “Maybe I can get it transferred to your name.” Rachel snorted. “Are you kidding? You’ve needed a vacation for months and this is the perfect opportunity. I need you fresh and ready to be my maid of honor in four weeks. It’ll do you good to get away.” Perhaps Rachel was right. She’d been putting in extra hours at the office lately. “But seven days. I can’t take that much time away. If it was a weekend—” “Bull,” Rachel said, her blue eyes flashing. “I’ve watched you work yourself into the ground and it’s starting to worry me. You’ve got to take some time for yourself and sort your feelings out.”

5

Denise A. Agnew

Frowning, Courtney tossed the notecard on her desk where it promptly slid off a pile of papers and into the trash can. “Rachel, I’m over him. There’s nothing to sort out. I like working long hours.” “Uh-huh.” Rachel came into the office and picked up the five by seven photo of Stan and Courtney that sat on Courtney’s desk next to the unicorn paperweight. She held the picture in both hands and turned it toward Courtney. “Then why do you keep this picture on your desk?” Courtney’s mouth opened and closed then opened again. She didn’t know. She couldn’t bring herself to throw it in the garbage. She was a self-proclaimed pack rat, but that didn’t explain why she kept a picture of the man who had broken her heart four months ago. Sighing, Rachel put the photo back on the desk and smiled. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to nag, but isn’t it time you shoved that no-good, slimy bastard out of your mind and started hunting bigger game?” A burst of laughter came from Courtney, and she threw her hands up in surrender. “Has anyone ever told you that you have no subtlety whatsoever?” “Several times a week.” Rachel reached into the trash and retrieved the invite to the Heart Inn Resort. “Now call this place, confirm your reservations, get packed, and leave this weekend.” “But today is Thursday. What about the new clients we’ve got lined up—” “I can handle it.” Rachel crossed her arms. “You’ve wanted to go to the Heart Inn for as long as I can remember. Now is your chance. Besides, when I go on my honeymoon you’ll be stuck with the clients. Run while you’ve got a chance.” “But this is unexpected. We’ve known about your honeymoon plans for months. It’s not the same thing.” “So what? Read my lips. You need some time off. Enjoy a little Rocky Mountain high, sip some champagne and ogle the men. It’s not like you get this chance every day.” She was right. The Heart Inn Resort, a one-hundred-year-old lodge built in a secluded area deep in the mountains west of Denver, catered to clients with money. It was extremely popular as a honeymoon destination in the summer and the winter because of its proximity to hiking, fishing, and skiing. The resort’s popularity included a local legend. Love seemed to find visitors to the Heart Inn Resort on a regular basis. The number of couples who met, married and honeymooned at the lodge was so regular the Heart Inn was written up in a local newspaper as the most romantic place in the Rockies. Wouldn’t it be a dream come true to spend seven days eating luscious food, getting a massage, sitting around the pool, and maybe meeting the man of her dreams? The man of her dreams? Yeah. Right. And she was the Queen of England. Such a man didn’t exist.

6

Meant to Be

“Well, what do you say?” Rachel asked. Courtney nodded. “All right. I’ll do it.”

***** “What?” Courtney straightened in her chair and gripped the phone tightly. “You mean I can’t use the reservations if I come alone?” She tapped a ruler on the brown leather blotter on her desk. “But I’m—” She cut herself off just in time. No way would she miss this opportunity. She’d think of something. “Ah…all right. I understand. I’ll get back to you later.” After she hung up she tossed the ruler in the air and let it drop onto the blotter with a sharp thwack. “Damn!” Courtney heard Rachel’s file drawer shut and then the tap of high heels as Rachel came out of her office and peered in at her. “What’s wrong?” “You’re not going to believe this. I won a honeymoon suite.” Rachel’s eyebrows speared upwards. “Hot damn.” “Yeah. When they said I’d won accommodations for two people for seven days and nights they really meant it. It’s for a married couple.” “So? Can’t they change it?” “Apparently not.” Courtney shifted in her chair impatiently and banged her knee on the corner of a drawer. She cursed softly and gritted her teeth as she rubbed her knee. “So much for my vacation.” Rachel sat in the chair next to Courtney’s desk. “Wait a minute. Don’t you know any guys who might be interested in a vacation?” Courtney looked at the picture of her and Stan and shook her head. Then she turned the photograph facedown and smiled. “Sorry, I’m all out of men.” “What about Benny?” “Benny Drake? You mean Benny Drake two shops down? The mortician? I don’t think so.” “Come now, Courtney. I didn’t think you were prejudiced against people because of their occupations.” Courtney swallowed and reconsidered. Then she tossed the idea away. “Nope. He’s very creepy. He came to your Halloween party last year dressed as himself and everyone thought he was wearing a costume.” Rachel laughed and tossed her hair away from her face. Courtney sometimes envied her tall, long-legged friend’s ease, confidence and effortless beauty. Courtney’s self-assurance had recovered after her disastrous relationship with Stan, but just barely. “Okay. Let’s think.” Rachel put her index finger to her chin. Courtney lifted her head and sniffed the air. “I think I smell smoke.”

7

Denise A. Agnew

“What?” “Your brain is on fire.” Rachel snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it.” Her smile widened until she looked like the proverbial Cheshire cat. “Morgan Lucas.” “What?” “Morgan Lucas. Our neighbor and your friend. I’m surprised you didn’t think of him first.” She didn’t think of him much at all. At least she hadn’t thought about him in the last few months. First she’d slogged through her relationship with Stan, then the last four months when she’d tried to bury herself in paperwork. She saw Morgan maybe once a week. A twinge of guilt cut like a knife into her conscience. Morgan had always been like a big brother to her and now their lives hardly touched. When had they drifted so far apart? She’d known him since she was fourteen and he was seventeen. He’d moved to Denver from Arizona thirteen years ago and had been a part of her life ever since. But Morgan was…Morgan. He might be the owner of his own antique store a door down from their accounting offices, he might have an entrepreneurial flair that bordered on the uncanny, he might have a nice smile and a generous heart. But he was still a tall, lanky… “Geek.” “Pardon me?” Rachel said. Courtney cleared her throat. “I don’t think Morgan’s the man I’m looking for.” Rachel grinned. “Why not? Morgan’s a nice enough guy.” Courtney could feel her own face cracking as she forced a smile. “Because he’s…uh…he’s…” “Come on, I didn’t say you had to marry him for real. I’ll bet he’d chomp at the bit for a chance to take an expenses-paid vacation for one week.” Courtney laughed. “Are you serious? Pretend to be married to Morgan?” “Why not?” “Because he’s probably as busy with his store as we are here. Besides, Morgan would never go for it. He’s much too serious. Too grounded to do something that frivolous.” Rachel rested her elbow on the desk, propped her chin in her hand, and gave Courtney her best intimidation stare. “How do you know what he’ll do unless you ask him?” “Remember we’ve been friends a long time. I know how he thinks.” “A man can change a lot in a few months and you’ve barely talked to him lately.”

8

Meant to Be

Guilt surfaced again. She knew Rachel wasn’t trying to be cruel. The truth hurt all by itself. Past pain threatened to stir a well of bad memories. Rachel might not realize it but she spoke as much about Stan as she did Morgan. Stan had changed significantly in a short period of time. Or maybe she’d been blind and had seen what she wanted to see and nothing else. In the six months she’d dated him, fell in love and moved in with him, she’d discovered Stan wasn’t the man she’d thought. And during that six months Courtney had changed, too. Changed so much she only realized now the damage her relationship with Stan had created in her entire life. “This is a crazy idea,” Courtney said, shaking her head to dissipate unwanted memories. Eyes sparkling mischievously, Rachel said, “Hey, it’s either Morgan or Benny.” Courtney sighed and looked at the invite sitting on her desk. How could she pass up the chance to take a dream vacation? Morgan was a nice, safe, reliable kind of guy. Dull. She looked at the invite again. Dull looked better every minute. “Okay. I’ll ask him.” “Better the devil you know,” Rachel said.

***** Courtney’s nerves jumped in her stomach like Mexican jumping beans. Maybe because she was doing the most incredibly audacious thing she’d ever contemplated in her life. As she walked out of the door and headed down the sidewalk toward Lucas Antiques, she wondered for the hundredth time in the last half hour if she’d finally popped a gasket. Morgan would never agree to such a crazy idea. Too levelheaded, his feet were planted in the ground like the roots of a tree. She cleared her throat and walked on, determined a little hitch in her confidence wouldn’t prevent her from taking a much-needed vacation. Seconds later, she reached Morgan’s small store, and she waited a moment before entering. She looked through the window. Although she didn’t see him anywhere at the front, she figured if he didn’t have a customer he might be in the back room working at his desk. If she wanted to see him today, she’d have to hurry. He closed the store this time every day. Quickly she opened the door, and the forceful jangle of the chime rattled her nerves. Several seconds passed but he didn’t appear. Frowning, she moved into the room and took in the surroundings. Not much had changed since she’d last seen the shop two months ago. Two months ago? Had it really been that long?

9

Denise A. Agnew

She reached down to touch a huge dark wood dining table in mint condition. “Hey, Squirt, don’t touch that. You’ll get fingerprints on it.” She started. She’d know the deep tones of that voice anywhere. Turning, she leveled the biggest smile she had on him. “Hi.” Morgan returned her grin and pushed his black-rimmed glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. A tremble of awareness passed over her nerves, alerting her to something different about Morgan. For a moment a sudden, nervous tremor rolled through her stomach. As if an elevator had dropped a couple of floors. “You’re just in time,” he said, strolling toward her. He tossed the book he carried onto a counter and gestured into the back room. “Come take a look.” “Take a look at what?” she asked. Morgan might be a nice guy, but he could play the odd prank or two. When she didn’t move he continued toward her at that leisurely pace. He came to a halt very close to her. Although she was tall, she had to look up at him, and when she took a breath, she drank in the spicy scent of his aftershave. “I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said. “Yeah, I remember the last time you said that to me.” His dark brows twitched up. “When was that?” “I was a teen and you thought it was funny to scare girls with spiders. You put one of the nasty creatures in my lunchbox. I think it liked my liverwurst sandwich more than I did.” He laughed, and the deep tone spread through her like a rich and hearty wine. A twist of mischief curved his lips. “You still remember that?” For a second she thought he was asking if she remembered high school or what she’d eaten for lunch. Then reason asserted itself. “I remember every little trick you ever played on me.” “Ouch. I guess what they say about a woman’s memory being like an elephant’s is true.” “Damn straight,” she said, smiling as she took in his appearance. He looked well-groomed, as always, in a gray suit, white shirt, and conservative navy blue tie. And, as always, his tie was slightly askew. Automatically, she reached up and adjusted the tie, pulling and arranging until she had it just right. He grinned at her. “Thanks.” She patted his lapels. “What would you do without me to fix your tie, Morgan?” He reached up, captured one of her hands in his, and held it to his chest. His grin faded and he gazed intently into her eyes. Time slowed to a crawl and that elevator did another drop. “Lately you haven’t been around much to straighten my ties. I’m beginning to think I’m going to have to stop wearing them.”

10

Meant to Be

She didn’t want to think about the last few months and how little time she’d spent in his company. When she said nothing he released her fingers. She took a deep breath, surprised by the way his gesture made her feel. Unsteady. Slightly breathless. He pushed a hand through his dark brown hair and it tumbled about his head in a riot of waves that reached to his shirt collar. She’d known about a dozen girls in high school who would have sold their soul for the chance to touch those sinfully thick curls. Her stomach fluttered wildly. Maybe the enchilada and tacos she’d eaten for lunch had been too spicy. Taking another steadying breath, she asked, “Now what did you want to show me?” She followed him to the back room, all the while drinking in the beautiful sight of antiques, and inhaling the unique scents of leather and age. “Here we are,” he said as he opened the door to the large storage room. Sitting just inside the door was a massive dark wood desk with an impressive inlay of green leather edged with gold tooling. “I think you’ve been looking for this for a very long time.” A jolt of surprise and happiness came over her. Indeed, she’d been scouting around for a desk like this one for a couple of years. Because work took most of her time on weekends, she hadn’t tried antique shopping in months. Stan didn’t care for antique hunting, and she’d found herself doing it less and less as a result. She caressed the wood and leather and smiled at Morgan. “This is beautiful. Where did you find it?” “An estate auction in Pueblo. I was down there last weekend and came across this. It’ll look great in your office, or better yet, at your house.” A sweet tingle of appreciation and warmth settled in the area around her heart. “Morgan, this is great, but are you saying you brought this up from Pueblo for me?” “Of course.” “How much did it cost?” When he told her, she gasped. “What? That’s very high— ” “Not for a piece like this in mint condition and this old.” She nodded. “I can pay you—” He touched her shoulder and pressed it warmly. “No.” “No? But—” “No ifs, ands or buts, Squirt. This one’s on me. Think of it as a way to atone for the spiders I put in your hair when I was a kid.” She laughed, but part of her didn’t like the idea of him paying for the desk. Morgan came from a wealthy family. Although she knew that he didn’t rely on his father’s money and did well on his own, she knew he’d never worried a day in his life about money. “I can’t let you do that.”

11

Denise A. Agnew

He frowned, his look more the introspective man she’d come to know over the years. “Why not?” “It wouldn’t be right.” “You did my taxes for me last year for free.” He had her there. “Yes, but you cut my lawn three times this summer and wouldn’t take any money or a dinner…” The quirky curve of his mouth caught her attention, and she lost her train of thought. “I would have remembered dinner if you’d offered it to me, Squirt.” His voice softened and deepened as he leaned slightly toward her. “I would have taken you up on it.” A surge of warmth flooded her cheeks. Was he flirting? Nah. Morgan was her friend. She swallowed hard and moistened her dry lips with her tongue. His gaze followed the movement, and this time her stomach didn’t flutter, or even do an elevator drop. Instead, she felt slightly giddy, like she was bobbing gently on a raft in a pond. Or a very large ocean. She put distance between them, walking over to a dusty Tiffany lamp that graced one corner of the storage area. As she touched the multicolored glass, he sighed. “Was there a particular reason you came to see me today?” he asked. She turned, her heart doing a tattoo she hadn’t expected when she saw him leaning against the desk. He picked up a mug of tea he’d been sipping earlier and took a swig. He looked totally serious now. Good. This was the old Morgan she knew well. No surprises. Nothing to make her uncomfortable. “I think I know a way to pay you back for the desk,” she said. “You don’t have to.” “I know. But you’d be doing me a favor as well.” He tilted his head and gave her his most befuddled Clark Kent expression. Well, Courtney, it’s now or never. “Morgan…uh…will you marry me?”

12

Meant to Be

Chapter Two Morgan’s mug of tea slipped from his fingers. Warm tea splashed onto his shirtfront as the plastic mug hit the floor, splattering liquid everywhere. Courtney jumped back to avoid the tea. “Oh no!” She grabbed a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at his shirt. Morgan was too dumbfounded to have a reaction to the mess he’d made. Courtney Devons couldn’t have just asked him to marry her. Not little, freckle-faced, pert-nosed Courtney. He clasped her hand, stilling her attempts to sop up the liquid. “Come again?” A nervous smile played over her lips as she pulled her fingers from his. “Will you marry me?” He closed his eyes. Surely, when he opened his eyes he’d be alone in the room and realize he’d been dreaming the whole time. “It would be for seven days. It’s all an act for the benefit of the people at the inn, but—” His eyes snapped open. “You want to marry me for seven days?” “Of course it wouldn’t be real,” she said hastily. “I mean, there’s this vacation I won, and I need a husband to go on the vacation.” “And you picked me?” She didn’t answer, but her thickly lashed ocean-deep blue eyes grew wide, and another flush crept into her cheeks. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her blush so often. In fact, if his memory served him right, he’d never seen her blush before today. His buddy Courtney wasn’t the frilly, lacy, case-of-the-vapors type of woman. Somehow, the subtle glow made her seem very different. She’d always looked delicate, with small, finely cut features and a gangly frame. Yet he knew under that exterior lay a web of steel and strength. Life hadn’t always treated her kindly, and she’d come through it graciously and better than ever. Looking at her now, he saw insecurity marring her usual aplomb. With her bob of mahogany hair curving about her gently rounded, oval face, and the soft fringe of bangs almost hanging in her eyes, she appeared tousled. Out of control. The only thing that resembled his friend Courtney was the conservative charcoal gray jacket and skirt she wore with a blue blouse and a black silk scarf shot with blue. “Whoa,” he said, holding up a hand as if to stop a charging animal. “I think I’ve missed the train. You need a husband to take vacation? Since when?”

13

Denise A. Agnew

She explained how she’d dropped her business card in the box at the wedding show weeks ago and hadn’t expected she’d win. “They didn’t say I’d need a husband to take the trip.” “Are you sure?” Her eyes narrowed, and he knew he’d stepped in it up to his knees. She placed her small hands on her hips. “I’m an accountant, Morgan. I can’t afford to miss details. No, they did not say it was a honeymoon trip.” He started to smile but halted when her eyes narrowed. He reached for a tissue box and grabbed a handful, then stooped down to dry off the floor. “Why are they so adamant on it being a honeymooning couple?” She sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s their reputation as the most romantic resort in the Rockies. Over the years hundreds of couples have met at the resort and eventually married.” He picked up the mug as he straightened and set it on a table. “I’ve never heard of it.” “You wouldn’t,” she said, giving him a gentle pat on the arm. He recognized significance in her patronizing tone but decided against figuring it out. It was probably a woman thing. “You really want to go on this vacation?” “If I don’t I think Rachel is going to kill me. She thinks I’ve been working too hard.” “She’s right.” He attempted a half-baked smile. Courtney threw up her hands. “What is it with everyone? Is this a conspiracy to get rid of me? Are you and Rachel planning a wild party after I’m gone?” Morgan couldn’t remember the last party he’d attended. Christmas at his house last year? He’d wanted to invite Courtney to the party, but knew her jerk of a boyfriend Stan would come along. He hadn’t asked. Courtney’s hurt look when she’d realized she wasn’t invited to a party she’d attended practically every year since high school had made him feel like a heel for weeks afterward. Come to think of it, he still felt like an ass for letting Stan come between their friendship. His own foolish pride had stepped in the way. Brushing aside his troubled thoughts he said, “Rachel’s worried about your health.” “You’ve been talking about me behind my back?” He tossed the soaked tissues in the trash can. “No. But I noticed you’re in the office before seven and out after eight on most evenings. Lord, woman, when do you clean your house and eat?” “Burger Sam on the corner makes a great chicken salad. And I’m not at the house long enough to get it dirty.” “What about weekends? I’ve seen you here on most Saturdays and Sundays. When do you have fun?” “Fun? Define fun.”

14

Meant to Be

He held his hands out, palms up. “Picnics in the park. A walk through Hestings Art Gallery. Dates.” She snorted. “I don’t do dates anymore. There aren’t any eligible men pounding down my door, and even if they did I probably wouldn’t let them in.” Recognizing the undercurrent of hostility in her tone, he knew he should switch gears. But with Courtney he had a difficult time steering away from trouble. “No dates since Stan?” She turned her face away so he saw her profile. From this angle the curve her lips looked tender and full of a vulnerability he couldn’t remember seeing before. Genuine concern filled him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought him up,” he said. She turned back to him, clasping her hands in front of her like a nervous schoolgirl. “It’s okay. Besides, if I go on vacation it’ll give me a chance to meet some men.” He waggled his eyebrows. “And where there’s a lot of men there’s probably a lot of women.” “See? If you go on this vacation you’ll have a terrific opportunity to ogle some babes.” He laughed at her choice of words, and when she smiled the warm curve to her lips vastly improved his outlook. Nothing was worse than a Courtney scowl. When she didn’t reply he said, “Take the vacation. Rachel will worry about you if you don’t. God knows she’s uptight enough as it is with her wedding coming up.” “Amazing. Most men can’t even remember when their own weddings are much less someone else’s.” Grinning, he leaned forward so he was close to her. “Squirt, I’m not like any other man you know.” She took a deep breath, as if she might say something monumental, but then she looked into his eyes and stopped. A pause stretched between them, and neither of them moved. A strange, heightened awareness sparked in his gut, a stirring attraction that temporarily short-circuited his brain. Startled, he stood there like a dunce. Drawing in another deep breath, she shifted back slightly. “Something wrong?” he asked. “Uh no,” she said, taking another step back. “So, are you going to do it or not?” “Marry you for a week.” “That’s the deal.” “All expenses paid?” “You got it.” He had an antique show coming up he needed to prepare for, but he couldn’t ignore her pleading expression. “All right, I’ll marry you.” “Yow!” She slapped her hands together and reached up to hug him.

15

Denise A. Agnew

He laughed, his arms went around her and her body pressed tight against him, chest to thigh. Pure, unexpected pleasure bombarded his senses. When was the last time he’d hugged her like this? He couldn’t remember. One impression after another sparkled in his body. Every gentle arch of her slim body molded to him. The scent of her hair reminded him of something tropical and wild. Exotic. For a few seconds he let his senses enjoy the barrage of pleasant impressions. Without warning, arousal spiked and heat poured into his body, his loins. Oh, God. His groin hardened. Painfully, fully aroused. Quickly she drew back, her expression startled. Embarrassment dowsed his arousal like ice water. What the hell had just happened? She started toward the door. “Where are you going?” he asked. She turned back and smiled. “Details, Morgan. Details. I’ve got to call the Heart Inn and tell them I’m showing up on Saturday with my new husband.” As she went out the door he gritted his teeth. How could he get a raging hard-on by hugging Courtney? He’d always thought of her as his kid sister, a friend who happened to be female. He shook his head and looked down at the tea on his clothes. “God, Morgan, you need to get out more.”

***** Saturday morning dawned cool and rainy, and along with the uncharacteristic weather came doubts. Courtney watched as seconds ticked away on her mantle clock. Morgan was late. He’d promised he’d arrive by six-thirty so they could get on the road and make it to the Heart Inn by midmorning. She huddled into her light sweater and a nervous flutter invaded her stomach. She settled onto the couch and decided to calm down. True, Morgan was never late. He was so damn dependable it would take a Mack truck to stop him when he had a course of action in mind. Glancing out the window again, she noticed the rain coming down in heavy sheets. Wonderful. Her first day of vacation was off to a fantastic start. Twiddling her thumbs, she stopped the compulsive movement as soon as she recognized what she was doing. All day yesterday she’d made Rachel crazy with her twitchy nerves. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were excited about going with Morgan on vacation,” Rachel had said.

16

Meant to Be

Courtney had hit the wrong key on her computer and messed up the figures on the chart she’d just completed. “Morgan? Sure, it’ll be fun to have him along. Well…not exactly fun. I mean, he’s good enough company.” Rachel had grinned. “Uh-huh.” Courtney hadn’t probed her friend for an explanation. Taking a couple of deep, cleansing breaths, she leaned her head back on the couch and closed her eyes. What did Rachel mean to say? She thought back to Thursday and her meeting with Morgan to ask him to marry her. It had about killed her. When she’d gotten back to the office she realized her palms were sweating and her usual composure had vanished. She’d been rattled. Excited. Thrilled. So she was going on a vacation. Big deal. Certainly no reason to become so worked up both then and now. Memories of the way he’d leaned close to her and said he wasn’t like any other man she’d known slipped into her thoughts. True. Morgan possessed qualities far outweighing any man she’d met. Reliability, stability…a solid person. Just the kind of friend she needed right now. Friend… She recalled when she’d hugged him and what she thought she’d felt as he held her. Had he really been aroused? No, it had to be her imagination. Smiling, she realized she’d calmed considerably. Morgan would arrive soon. The weather had probably delayed him. After all, he did live across town. Instead of fidgeting, she visualized seven uninterrupted days of pampering, luxury and fun. When she’d asked Morgan on Thursday what fun was, she understood she missed talking with him. He had been a part of the fun that had existed in her life before Stan came along. How could she have been so stupid? Getting involved with Stan had been one of the dumbest, most idiotic things she’d ever done. Never again. Never again would she allow a man to manipulate and control her until she didn’t know who she was or what she wanted. The doorbell jerked her out of her reverie, and as she glanced out the front window she saw Morgan’s Land Rover parked in the driveway. She hurried to open the door. “Hi,” Morgan said cheerfully, water dripping off him as she let him in the front door. He wiped his feet on the runner inside the door. “You look like a drowned rat,” she said, perusing the hair plastered to his head. His glasses were spotted with rain. He grinned. “Thanks. I can always rely on you for an ego boost.” “You’re late.” Then it dawned on her what he had in his hands. A large bouquet of red roses. He handed them to her. “Can’t have a new bride without a bouquet, can we?”

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Denise A. Agnew

She knew her mouth hung open. Stan had never given her red roses, and now her best friend handed them to her with a nonchalant smile. “Oh my gosh,” she whispered. “These are beautiful.” A strange light entered his eyes. She’d seen that look in his gaze a couple of times Thursday when he’d teased her and given her a hug. A burning intensity that warmed and comforted her. “Glad you like them.” “Thank you,” she said, realizing her voice sounded somewhat short-winded. Shaking off the unusual feeling, she headed toward the kitchen to grab a vase. He reached for her arm. “Take them with you. They’ll survive the trip. You can display them in the room when we get there.” “Good idea. We’ll look more like a real married couple.” He crossed his arms. “What exactly does a real married couple look like?” She shrugged. “You know. They get that look.” “Ah, I see. That, ‘I can’t believe I’m married’ terrified stare?” She laughed. “No, you brat. The ‘I’m so in love’ expression.” She reached for her purse. “Ready?” “One more thing.” He reached into his rain jacket and produced two small black velvet boxes. “Rings.” Courtney almost dropped her roses. “I thought of it yesterday.” He opened one of the boxes. Inside nestled a beautiful, large diamond solitaire mounted on an antique gold filigree band. “Wow,” she whispered and reached over to extract the sparkling ring. “Try it on.” With a sense of excitement, she slipped the ring on the third finger of her left hand. It fit perfectly. She waggled her fingers and watched prisms of light dance through the stone. “How did you know the right size?” “I took a wild guess.” She looked at him and frowned. None of this was like Morgan. Saying yes to a fake marriage proposal? Red roses? Having the presence of mind to think of rings? Taking wild guesses? He opened the other box, produced a wide filigree gold band, and slipped it on his ring finger. He gazed down at her with the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes. “I now pronounce us husband and wife.” A horrified thought came to her mind. “My God, Morgan. These rings must be expensive.” “Not to worry. I had these in the shop in the jewelry case.” She released a breath. “Still, they aren’t exactly Cracker Jack prizes.”

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He looped an arm around her shoulders, hugged her to him for a moment and gave her a cartoon grin. “Hell, no. We want people to think this is authentic. Besides, it’s only a loan. You don’t get to keep the ring.” “Gee, thanks.” As he released her, she appraised his raggedy, faded blue T-shirt that might be ten years old. His jeans had seen better days. She pulled on one of his sleeves. “Yuck. Aren’t you ever going to get rid of that T-shirt? It’s positively ugly.” “It’s my lucky T-shirt. A lot of good things have happened to me while wearing this.” “For such a practical kind of guy you sure are superstitious.” “Hey, I only know this shirt has taken me through thick and thin.” She wrinkled her nose and touched a hole on the chest. “It looks like you’ve been pulled through a knot hole backwards. This is a nice resort. If they see you in this they’re going to think you’re a bum, not a tourist.” He smiled. “I never knew you were such a snob, Squirt.” She gasped and put her hands on her hips. “I’m not a snob.” “Uh-huh.” He gazed at the silk, sleeveless white shell she’d combined with a powder blue gauzy skirt that flirted around her ankles. “You’re dressed like you’re attending a society luncheon at the club.” She gave his T-shirt and faded jeans another disparaging look. “Better than a derelict or a biker.” He laughed. “Derelict or a biker. Now that’s an improvement. I don’t think anyone’s ever described me so colorfully. I think I’ll take the biker image.” When her gaze traveled over him again, she reassessed his attire. Well, okay. He didn’t look that bad. Thunder rumbled, reminding her that they had a long drive ahead in bad weather. She punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Shut up. Let’s hit the road, Cracker Jack.”

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Chapter Three Rain bombarded Morgan’s Land Rover, wind shoving at the heavy vehicle as if it wanted to force them off the cliff. Courtney gazed out her side window and wished she hadn’t. There might be a guardrail on this part of the pass, but with the weather so severe, an accident could happen easily. At a particularly wide stretch in the road, a car whizzed passed them at light speed. Morgan cursed softly. “I hope we don’t see him go off the side of the cliff.” She shivered and switched to a less chilling topic. “It’s got to be sunny when we get to the Heart Inn.” He kept his attention on the road. “Why is that?” “Are you crazy? It simply must be eighty-five and sunny so I can get a tan.” “Since when do you worry about getting a tan?” “Since today.” “Hmm. I think you want to stand by the pool and watch guys flex their muscles.” Laughing, she glanced down at her sparkling ring. “Is that all you think I wanted to go on this vacation for?” “You needed this vacation because you’ve been working too hard. Like I said, Rachel was worried about you. Whenever I’d ask her how you were, she’d say you’d locked yourself in your office for hours at a time without a break.” Locking herself in the office was an understatement. Try barricaded. Day after day she concentrated on her work, so oblivious to time she sometimes missed lunch and dinner. “We’ve been really busy. I don’t think we’re ever going to catch up.” “That’s not it.” She turned slightly toward him. “What do you mean?” He glanced at her. “You’ve changed since you met Stan.” A feeling of self-defensiveness started a spark of anger within her. “I’m tired of people telling me I’m not the same happy-go-lucky person I was before Stan entered my life.” “It’s true. You used to be so cheerful. You had a sparkle that made people want to be around you.” She considered his words. She’d always been an extrovert, but lately she’d wanted to slow down, settle down. And do what? When she had fallen in love with Stan and moved in with him she’d assumed she would settled down. Things went well until he’d started to tell her she couldn’t go out 20

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with Rachel, couldn’t see her other friends. Until he’d become possessive to the point of obsession. “Of course I’ve changed. Nobody goes through a heavy-duty relationship like that and remains the same. It’s taking awhile to get over it, that’s all.” He slowed the Land Rover as a line of cars in front of him came to a crawl. “Squirt, you don’t get it. You haven’t changed back to the old Courtney we knew and loved before you met Stan.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and heaved a frustrated sigh. “Since when did you become a therapist? I suppose you’re going to tell me next that you know exactly what’s best for me?” As the traffic came to a complete stop, he glanced at her and gave her a cocky, selfassured grin. “This vacation you’re going to rest, relax and enjoy yourself.” His supercilious, haughty tone sounded a lot like Stan, too, and spirits took a slow slide downward. “Don’t tell me what I’m going to do or how I’m going to feel, okay?” He looked at her and this time his brows drew together. “That’s an example right there. You never used to snap at people.” “Huh! I’ve always snapped at you.” He shook his head. “You’ve always teased me, and I’ve always teased you. Now when you come back at me with one of your witty comments it’s laced with sarcasm.” Nothing he said soothed her ire. “You would be sarcastic too if your friends kept trying to tell you how to run your life.” Disappointment etched his expression. “Don’t you see? All this started after you met that damned idiot. If you’d—” She made a chopping motion with her hand. “I know. If only I’d never met the man in the first place everything would be peachy keen right now, wouldn’t it? Don’t you think I tell myself that every single, solitary day? I wish to heaven I’d never met the creep.” He didn’t look at her. “Maybe we should talk about something else.” His psychologist tone drove her nuts, but she wouldn’t get anywhere discussing her relationship with Stan or the consequences. Until that moment, she hadn’t known Morgan cared or took notice of her love life. It never seemed to concern him before. As traffic restarted, she said, “From now on it’s a taboo subject.” When he didn’t answer she scrutinized his expression. His lips compressed into a firm line, his brows drawn into a resolute scowl. Clearly she’d hit a sore spot and managed to agitate the ordinarily unruffled Morgan Lucas. Gratification ran through her. On the other hand, she didn’t enjoy the awareness he might be mad at her. Several minutes passed, and she turned on the radio. Static filled the airwaves. “I brought some CDs. They’re in the case behind my seat,” he said quietly.

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She fished around in the case until she found a classical tape and popped it into the cassette player. Her mind drifted to Morgan acting as her husband on this vacation. “There’s still a few things we don’t know about each other,” she said. “And if we’re playing the part of honeymooners I think we’d better learn.” “You’re probably right. Like what our favorite colors are and what our sign is.” Feeling lighter of heart she smiled, relieved the tension in the car drifted away. “We’ve got that covered. You’re a Leo and I’m a Cancer…almost a Gemini.” “Your favorite color is green and mine is…I don’t have a favorite color.” “Exactly.” He slanted a suggestive grin at her. “What do you wear to bed?” Taken completely off guard, she sputtered. “I…what? That’s none of your business.” “I’m your husband, remember?” “Like you really need to know that information.” He shrugged. “You don’t need to tell me. I can guess.” Heat flooded her face. How could he guess? “Uh-oh,” he said. “What?” She looked out the windshield, half expecting to see the traffic building ahead of them again. “I’ll bet this honeymoon suite has only one bed, right?” One bed. Uh-oh. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She was used to paying attention to details, but that one had slipped her mind entirely. “Uh-huh.” He slowly pushed his hand through his hair. His jaw worked as if he were trying to stifle a laugh. “What are you thinking?” she asked, suspicious. “What do you think I’m thinking?” “I…” Her mouth dropped open. “You are sleeping on the floor, buster.” “Damn!” He gave her a salacious grin. “What did you think was going to happen?” she asked. “If you think for one minute I was going to let you—” “—have the bed and you’d sleep on the floor.” “—sleep in the bed with me you’re crazy.” He chuckled and it went on and on while she turned several shades of red. His laugh rolled over her in deep, rich tones, and had a decidedly odd effect on her. She liked his laugh. She’d always liked it. But this time the sound sent a shimmer of pleasant heat filtering over and around her body like a blanket. Several stunned seconds later she realized why his laugh disconcerted her. 22

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It turned her on. Great balls of fire! When had that happened? What had changed that made listening to his laugh now any different than the millions of other times she’d heard him chuckle? “Shut up, Morgan. It wasn’t that funny. You sound like a baboon.” He barely silenced another guffaw. “Sorry. I couldn’t help it. If you could see the look on your face…” She flipped down the sun visor and looked in the mirror. “I look fine. Perfectly normal.” She pushed the sun visor back up. Two could play at this game. “It’s my turn to ask a question. How many girlfriends did you have before you met me? I mean, before our pretend marriage.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Let’s see. About a dozen.” “Right.” He gave her a hurt expression, but the laughter in his eyes betrayed him. “Okay. Maybe only ten.” She didn’t think he had any girlfriends in high school. Even girls that had liked his wavy hair called him a geek and wouldn’t give him the time of day. She remembered how insecure he’d appeared his first day at his new school, and she tried to imagine the angst riding him hard as he was uprooted from his old school and friends to spend his senior year in a new place. His locker had been right next to hers. It was ironic. He’d been a tall senior and her, a skinny freshman. Yet she had introduced herself first. Recalling the slightly stunned expression on his face when she’d shook hands with him that first day made her smile. “If I remember precisely you’ve had two serious girlfriends your entire life, including Claudia. You had other random dates here and there.” “I didn’t know you paid that much attention to my love life.” “I don’t.” Love life. Somehow the words sounded intriguing coming from his lips. Certainly, he’d been in love with Claudia. Courtney had seen them together and had envied the easy, loving way between them. Then something went bad and all he’d confessed was that Claudia had dissolved the engagement. He wouldn’t explain, no matter how much she goaded him, what had really happened to make Claudia break off with him. Love. What would it be liked to be loved by Morgan Lucas? She imagined he would be steady and loyal as a dog. To make love with him— Heat washed over her as a vivid, living color fantasy popped into her head. Morgan stark naked and lying next to her on a big bed. His masculinity proud and feral. She sucked in a breath. Arousal tingled low in her belly. Oh. My. God. “Penny for your thoughts.”

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“Uh…I was just thinking that you haven’t exactly dated much in the last few months. Maybe you’re working too hard, too?” Devilment spread over his lips in a huge smile. “How do you know I haven’t been dating anyone?” Before she could reply, a loud pop came from somewhere outside the car and suddenly the vehicle skidded along the pavement and headed right for the cliff edge. Sheer surprise held her breath prisoner and her heart banged a frantic rhythm. Morgan wrested the steering wheel and worked the brakes so they slid to the side of the road and came to an abrupt halt. She looked out her passenger door window, her breath erratic. If he hadn’t gotten the vehicle under control they would have crashed into the guardrail or into the hillside. The pounding of her heart and the rapid slap, slap of the windshield wipers drowned all other sounds. “Courtney?” He reached across and cupped her face in his warm hands. “Are you all right?” “Yes.” His gaze raked over her quickly, intensely, as if didn’t believe her. Her hands went up to cover his. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice deep with concern. Feeling a tad shaky, she said, “Positive.” He released a breath and let go of her. The vehicle tilted oddly on one side. “Do we have a flat?” He turned on the emergency blinkers. “You bet. It’s a good thing there weren’t any cars around when we lost control or we might have caused an accident.” He unbuckled his seat belt. “Stay here.” He opened the door and before she could make a sound, he left the car and slammed the door. Stay here. She didn’t think so. She jumped out of the car into the downpour and rushed around to the back of the car. Morgan unloaded the jack. “You don’t need my extra weight holding the car down. Besides, I can help. I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.” He smiled and began to jack the vehicle up. “Hell of a honeymoon, Squirt.” “Well, let’s hurry and change this tire before we both get pneumonia. Then we’ll have something else to add to the list of mishaps.” They made short work of the tire. She became distracted a couple of times recalling the undeniable distress in Morgan’s expression when he’d cupped her face in his hands. She’d never been in a car accident, so she probably had looked as white as a sheet. Still…the thought of him being worried about her was oddly pleasant. “Bull hockey,” she said out loud as he tightened up the nuts on the tire. “What?” he asked through the howl of the wind.

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“Nothing.” He glanced up at her but the action only served to mess up his glasses, rain running down the lenses. By the time they climbed back into the car she shivered with a cold that reached deep into her bones. She peeled off her raincoat and hung it over her seat. Before he started the car, he reached for a blanket in the backseat and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. “Thanks,” she said with soft surprise, smiling up at him. She could feel his warm breath on her neck, and she quivered with a tingle of awareness. He kept his arm around her, his hand rubbing her shoulder as if to generate warmth. Rain droplets clung to the lenses of his glasses. “Really, Morgan, you need contacts.” She snatched them off his nose and wiped off the moisture with a corner of the blanket. When she looked up she almost gasped. He had the most beautiful caramel brown eyes. Fringed with thick, dark lashes, they stayed intent on her and unwavering. Hot. More than the sweet warmth of a friend, his gaze transmitted fire and something that made her breath catch. No. No way. She imagined the not-so-subtle transmission of hunger and desire flickering in his eyes. But regardless of what she saw in his eyes, how could she have been so raging blind? How could she have missed that without his glasses, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen? This near to him she saw in intimate detail the stubble along his strong, carved jawline, his straight nose, the sensuous curve of his lips, the small dimple in his chin. Handsome was an understatement. Virile. Gorgeous. His eyes narrowed. “You okay?” She shifted and took a deep breath to start her lungs working again. “Great. Guess we’d better get going.” He took his arm from around her, retrieved his glasses from her hand, and plopped the frames on his nose. “Yep. I think you’re right, Squirt. From now on I wear those contacts I bought a month ago.” Spell broken, he turned on the engine and pulled onto the road. While she couldn’t imagine what he must think of her odd behavior, she’d turned certifiably insane. Morgan Lucas was not gorgeous. She spent the rest of the trip trying to convince herself she was right.

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Chapter Four “Mr. Lucas, if you’ll sign the register right here,” the front desk clerk said to Morgan. Morgan signed the old-fashioned register, his mind distracted by the lightningstrike feelings inside him. The last few hours with Courtney had scrambled his brain like eggs. The desk clerk looked at Courtney. “Mrs. Lucas?” “Courtney?” Morgan nudged her gently with his elbow. She broke from her perusal of the huge lobby to look at Morgan and the pragmatic front desk clerk. She smiled. “Sorry.” She took the feather pen from Morgan and signed. Courtney Anne Devons. The man behind the desk turned the register around and his eyebrows rose. “Oops,” Morgan said, realizing that she’d forgotten the charade. She looked chagrined for about two seconds before she recovered and pinned the front desk clerk with an imperial look. “I kept my own name.” The man nodded and smiled, no doubt curious about her defensive tone. “Of course, ma’am.” As they waited for the porter to load their bags onto a cart, Morgan noted Courtney’s rigid back as she turned away from him to observe the country-style interior of the old hotel. As they’d arrived at the three-story rustic log structure a few minutes ago, he started to wonder if this trip had been a big mistake. Not because he didn’t want a vacation, and not because Courtney didn’t need it desperately. Deceiving the hotel into thinking they were a married couple didn’t worry him. Married couple. What a ludicrous idea. But there were advantages. Courtney would get the vacation she deserved and needed, and he’d find respite from the exhausting hours he’d put in the last few months on his antique store. Hours he’d been too tired to acknowledge that he’d lost his close friendship with Courtney because of another man. Absorbed in his own introspection, he at first didn’t notice a tall, blond, broadshouldered man wearing a muscle shirt and bike shorts approaching Courtney. “Welcome to the Heart Inn,” the man said as he put out his hand to her. “I’m Alan Barns. Physical Fitness Director for the resort.” She smiled as she shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Barns. I’m Courtney Devons.”

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“I know. Jack at the front desk told me you’d just arrived. He said you put down on your information card that you’d be interested in an aerobics class while you’re here. I teach one every day at 8:00 a.m. Not that you need the exercise, of course.” Sharp discomfort niggled Morgan as he watched the man’s gaze travel over Courtney’s slim figure. The overgrown beach boy looked at her as if she wore nothing at all. She laughed lightly and disengaged her hand from Alan’s grip. “Thank you. I’ve needed to start an exercise routine for weeks and aerobics will be perfect.” When Alan’s gaze assessed her again, as if he imagined her in one of those skinhugging outfits, Morgan approached. Plastering on a smile, he held his hand out. “Hi. I’m Courtney’s husband.” Courtney started, as if Morgan had announced her hair was on fire. “Oh, yes. Sorry. Alan, this is Morgan Lucas.” Alan’s grip was firm and no-nonsense, and his smile seemed genuine enough, but Morgan took an instant dislike to the guy. Maybe it was the way he never stopped smiling, or the way he puffed out his impressive pectorals. Morgan put his arm around her shoulders and brought her close. He gazed down at her with what he hoped was a sufficiently besotted expression. “We’re on our honeymoon.” Stiffening, she smiled back and then looked at Alan. “Too bad I missed your class today. Do you hold classes on Sunday morning, too?” Alan continued to grin. “Actually, on Sunday I like to sleep in. But I have a class Sunday afternoon, so you won’t miss out.” “Great. I’ll be there.” The porter had their bags on the cart by this time, so they said goodbye to Alan. None too soon. Morgan smiled politely at the aerobics instructor but he honestly felt like braining him with the nearest chair. Startled by the violence of his feelings, Morgan inhaled deeply and regained control. As they crossed to the elevator, Courtney moved out from under his arm and gave him a frown. When she didn’t speak, he figured she was only biding her time until the porter was gone. Twice in one day he’d made her angry. But Alan reminded him of Stanley Ashford. All smarmy smiles and insincerity. For months, since she’d started dating that creep Stan, Morgan had wrestled with his feelings. At first he’d thought he didn’t mind she’d found someone. Then he’d met the guy and immediately revised his opinion. Three words described the asshole. Cocky, conceited, and condescending. Obviously he thought because he came from a rich family and had a high position in a prestigious architectural firm that others remained beneath him in intelligence and worth. Morgan recalled the day Stan had wandered through the antique store spouting limited knowledge about antiques and

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sniffing indignantly when Morgan had the gall to correct him. When Courtney came in the next day and gave him a mild dressing-down because of the way he’d treated Stan, he knew his relationship with her had taken a rocky downturn. Shocked by the way she’d berated him, Morgan hadn’t said a thing. As time had gone by, and he rarely saw Courtney, he realized how much he missed her. Missed her laugh, her teasing taunts, her…beautiful face. That’s when life got rough. He’d plunged into his work fifteen hours a day until he ached in every bone. Last month he’d contracted a flu so serious he’d been forced to close his shop for a week while he recuperated or risk getting pneumonia. Rachel had wanted to tell Courtney he was sick, but he insisted she keep mum. During his illness he’d laid in bed, and fever had given him crazy dreams about Courtney. Although the dreams stayed foggy, he distinctly remembered kissing her in one dream. When he started having wild dreams about Courtney, he knew he was two bricks short of a load. He thought of this vacation as an opportunity to put their friendship back into firm standing. When the Land Rover had hydroplaned, and afterward when he’d turned to Courtney and seen her pale face, the implications of what could have happened hit him like a sucker punch. She’d been as white as ghost, and for a terrifying few seconds he’d thought she was hurt. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Of course he’d been concerned about her. He would have worried about anyone. When the elevator halted at the third floor, and when Morgan unlocked the door and Courtney surveyed the room, she let out a gasp. “Would you look at this place?” He’d stayed in a few sumptuous suites before, but this one outstripped the others in elegance and size. At one end of the room resided a huge four-poster bed with a canopy. “Damn,” he said. “And here I thought they’d have a heart-shaped bed.” “Morgan!” He laughed, enjoying the light tinge of color rising in her cheeks as she glanced at the porter. The man didn’t seem to notice her embarrassment. After the porter unloaded their bags and left, Morgan scanned the room. An antique dealer’s dream, the room sported a mahogany secretary and a highboy. A large window with rich emerald damask curtains graced one wall. Next to the window nestled a small Queen Anne table with a pair of matching chairs. “This is a great place,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and flopping backward with a sigh. She sat in a chair by the window. “Was it really necessary to put on such a show downstairs?” “What show?”

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“You know what I’m talking about. You practically pulled me away from Alan Barns. Why?” He propped himself on his elbows. “He’s a Neanderthal. He drooled all over you like an overeager puppy. The man needed a bib.” Instead of coming back at him with both barrels, she laughed. “He wasn’t that bad. I’ll bet he treats all the women guests like that. Probably kisses old women’s hands and pats little girls on the head. It’s how he gets people into his aerobics classes. Full classes means he keeps his job.” Morgan grunted. “Maybe. I saw how he looked you over. I don’t think he leers at little old ladies in pink tights quite the same way.” She stood and advanced to the bed. “What if he was flirting with me? It might be nice to have a vacation romance. I’ve never tried that before.” Morgan grinned. “You’d commit adultery?” “Don’t be a dolt, Morgan. It’s harmless fun. Like I said, I’m sure he flirts with all the ladies.” “Don’t do it. It’ll blow our cover.” Sighing, she sat down next to him on the bed. “And what are you? James Bond?” Sitting up, he said, “Not a bad thought. Gorgeous women after my bod—” “Aha! See? I knew it. You’re as bad as Alan. You like to ogle women, too. Remember, I’ve seen you do it before.” She stood again. “Isn’t that just like a man? It’s okay for you to flirt and have a good time, but not for me. What a double standard.” Puzzled, he watched her closely. “Hey, I don’t care what you do. Have a good time. Flirt with men right and left.” She sniffed. “Good. As long as we’ve got that cleared up.” She turned and headed for the wet bar. “I could use a drink.” “This early in the day?” She gave him a wry grin. “Club soda. Want anything?” “No, thanks.” As she rummaged around in the bar, he rose from the bed and headed for the bathroom. When he looked inside, he discovered it had a whirlpool tub big enough for four people. He imagined sharing the tub with Courtney. And she wore nothing but a smile. “Shit.” “What?” Courtney called from the bar area. “Nothing.” Leaving the bathroom and hopefully his overactive imagination behind, he retreated to the bar. “On second thought, I think I will have that club soda.” After she poured his drink and handed it to him, she peeked around the corner of the bathroom. “Wow. I see what you mean. This is nice. The tub is even big enough for two.”

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He choked on his drink. “Are you okay?” He coughed. “Yeah.” While he sipped his drink, she crossed to the window. “It’s stopped raining. Perfect. I can’t wait to try out the pool.” Her faced dropped. “Damn.” “What?” “I just remembered I forgot to pack my swimsuit. How could I forget that?” she asked, a slight whine in her tone. “So buy another one.” She turned toward him, her brow wrinkled. “I suppose I could. There’s a shop downstairs.” She shook her head. “I’ll bet it would cost a fortune.” “So? This is your vacation. You’re not paying for the room and you get free meals except room service. Splurge.” “I think I will.” She went behind the bar to put away her glass. As he watched her, a purely mischievous smile came over his lips. “Buy a bikini.” “Why?” “You’d look good in one.” She looked startled. “How would you know?” He leaned on the bar and recalled the last time he’d seen her in a bathing suit of any kind. If he remembered correctly she’d been eighteen. She’d blossomed into a pretty woman. Imagining what she would look like now almost caused him to choke on his drink again. “You have a nice figure.” Her eyes went wide and intent. “Thanks. But bikinis aren’t my style.” “Don’t you want Dudley Do-Right Barns to notice you?” As she rinsed her glass, she wrinkled her nose. “I don’t plan on wearing a bikini to aerobics class.” He laughed, and she playfully threw a small dishtowel at him. “I don’t suppose you packed a Speedo?” The idea of wearing one of those tight, constricting contraptions made him wince. “No. Too uncomfortable.” “Huh. Well, then don’t complain when I come back with a one-piece.” As she snatched up her purse and headed for the door, he asked, “Are you saying you like men in Speedos?” She turned, hand on the doorknob, and winked at him. “Some men. In red or black. It can be sexy on the right guy. See you a little later.” After she left he looked in his suitcase and pulled out his swimming trunks. He held them up and grimaced. Orange and yellow stripes. He snorted. “Holy crap. What was I thinking?”

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***** Rather than riding down in the elevator, Courtney took the stairs. As she descended the wide, carpeted steps, she noted the photographs lining the walls. Some were black and white, some color. She slowed her descent and perused the pictures. At one particularly stunning, old black and white she stopped. The woman wore a high-necked dress in the style of the 1890s and held a tussy mussy of flowers in her hand. She wasn’t smiling, but Courtney saw a twinkle in the woman’s eye. The seriouslooking, handsome man next to her wore glasses. With shorter hair he might even pass for Morgan. She read the gold plaque at the bottom of the ornate wood frame. Garrett M. Douglas and Margaret A. Fortier met at the Heart Inn, May 1, 1899. Married at the Heart Inn, May 12, 1899. “Wow. Fast workers.” She went down a couple of steps and found another pair, this photograph in black and white. And so it went, all the way down the staircase. She marveled at the dozens of people who had met and married at the Heart Inn. Every decade in the hundred-year history of the Heart Inn yielded dozens of marriages. Maybe, if luck smiled on her, the Heart Inn would produce a dashing, sexy man who would fall in love with her. She brought herself up short. Maybe she needed to slow down thinking in that direction. Getting over Stan had taken a long time. This vacation screamed rest and relaxation, not necessarily romance. Sure, she’d joked with Morgan that she needed to find a man, but if she didn’t it wouldn’t break her heart. Her style didn’t run to short-term relationships with men. Nope. No way. Besides, Morgan was with her. What chance did she have of meeting men if Morgan ran interference as he did with Alan? When she reached the beachwear store she thumbed through racks of one-piece suits, and thought about the way Morgan had acted around Alan. Ever since they’d become friends years ago he’d treated her like the big brother she never had. After her mother died when she was eighteen, Morgan’s entire family became hers. She’d spent dozens of holidays with Morgan’s parents, his older sister Caren, and younger brother Mark. Last Christmas Morgan hadn’t asked her over for his family’s Christmas Eve party. At first she didn’t notice the lack of invitation, because she’d thought she wanted to spend time with Stan. Unfortunately, that had been a disaster. She and Stan had ended up fighting and she’d cried herself to sleep, feeling miserable and alone. Shoving aside the depressing thought, she flipped through the next rack. Nothing fit her tastes. She had almost given up when she spotted a tamale-red two-piece bathing suit for half-price.

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The saleswoman must have seen her eyeballing the suit. “I can’t understand why that suit hasn’t sold. It’s an eye-catcher and high quality. Want to try it on?” “I don’t know…” “Can’t hurt a thing.” The saleswoman smiled and looked at Courtney closely. “You look about the right size.” Courtney wrinkled her nose. “I’ll bet it’s too small.” Snatching the suit off the rack, the saleswoman smiled. “Never can tell unless you try it on.” Resigned, Courtney took the bathing suit into the changing room. Moments later she smiled with satisfaction. The suit was nice. The halter-top was a good fit, and the high-cut legs on the bottom half made her legs look longer. On the other hand, she felt very, very exposed. Almost naked. She wasn’t used to flaunting what she had. She frowned, remembering the last time she’d tried to wear a form-fitting gown to a party. Stan had become extremely jealous of some the admiring glances she’d received from other men and had almost caused a scene. Embarrassed, she’d insisted he take her home. Sighing, she looked at the plunging neckline of the suit. Stan was out of her life for good and she didn’t need to worry whether he approved or not. She needed to please herself. A man would never have that type of hold on her again. When she came out of the changing room seconds later, she smiled at the clerk and happily produced her credit card. When Courtney returned to the room a short time later, Morgan was gone. He’d left a note on the table. Squirt, Went shopping. Be back in a flash. Morgan. Hmmm…the note was like Morgan. Essentially straightforward and never complicated. As she unpacked and put items in the chest of drawers, she wondered where to hide her new purchase. She decided to conceal it in a pocket of her suitcase. For some reason she didn’t want Morgan stumbling across it when he looked for his briefs or something. Morgan’s briefs. Her face reddened. She slammed the drawer with more force than necessary. Ridiculous. Since when did the thought of Morgan’s underwear make her blush? She swallowed hard and went to the wet bar. Her mouth was as dry as the Sahara. As she sipped a bottle of water, her mind jumped to the next preposterous thought without a modicum of reserve. What type of underwear did he wear anyway?

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“I can’t believe I’m even wondering,” she said out loud, shaking her head. “And why do I care if he finds the bikini? He’ll probably see me in the damn thing anyway.” Now that was a terrifying thought.

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Chapter Five “Room service, I’d like to order dinner, please,” Morgan said into the phone. Courtney’s stomach growled. Food. Now that was a fantastic idea. Snapping up the television remote, she sank onto the love seat, slipped off her sandals and flipped through channels. After he requested two orders of shrimp scampi, coffee and a dessert called Heart Inn Sin, she immediately envisioned waking up tomorrow and realizing she’d gained ten pounds. She’d never get into her bikini. “And I’ll have a bottle of your finest champagne,” Morgan said. Her eyes widened at the mention of champagne, but when she looked at Morgan he winked and smiled. After he hung up she put down the remote. “Your finest champagne? That’s probably Dom Perignon or something. Do you know how much that stuff costs? I’m surprised you didn’t order caviar.” “Yuck.” He stretched and yawned. “Room service is extra. It’s not a part of the package.” “So what? We’re on vacation.” He strolled over to the love seat and plopped down next to her. “We can afford it.” “You can afford it.” He snatched the remote from her and switched channels until he reached a beach volleyball tournament. Several nubile young women bounced around in the sand. “Don’t worry. I plan on paying for it,” he said, his tone light as he grinned at her. “You’re just being cheap.” “Cheap?” Her voice went up a notch. “I’ll have you know I spent a chunk on a bathing suit today.” His eyebrows went up. He pushed his glasses back on his nose. “Bikini?” “I—” She cut herself off, an idea sparking in her. Let him wonder. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He nodded and the side of his mouth turned up in a barely suppressed smile. When he turned his attention back to the bouncing women, she snagged the remote from him and changed the channel. “Your business is doing well, and I know you’re a saver,” he said. “Can’t you afford to treat yourself now and then?” She thought back to Stan’s extravagant lifestyle and frowned. Growing up in a single-parent household with a low income had taught her the value of a dollar and

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then some. But she knew Morgan was right. She deserved a little frivolity after months of working her tail end off. “I’m feeling lean in the pocketbook because I spent a tidy sum on the new suit.” “Right. I’ll bet it was on sale.” She had a horrifying vision of him peeking in the window as she’d bought the suit. She grabbed his forearm. “How did you know?” “Because I know you.” Grinning conspiratorially, he leaned forward and put his hand over hers so that he trapped it against his arm. “Let me guess. A granny suit with big, obnoxious flowers and a demure skirt that covers your thighs.” She laughed. “Exactly.” His smile grew wider. “That’ll make Alan salivate.” The crisp hair on his forearm teased her fingers, and she drew her hand out of his warm clasp. She punched him lightly on the shoulder with her fist. “Ow! Husband beater.” “Oh, that didn’t hurt, you brat.” She picked up the small pillow on her side of the love seat and swatted at him playfully. He caught the pillow before she could complete a second swing and grabbed her arms and pulled her toward him. Capturing both of her wrists in one large hand, he held her prisoner while he tickled her unmercifully with his other hand. She screamed with laughter. “That’ll teach you,” he growled softly. Gasping for breath, she struggled to break his grip. “Let me go.” “Not until you surrender.” “Never.” “Then I’m going to tickle you until you beg for it.” “You can’t make me.” “Wanna bet?” His grin was pure rascality. He switched to a corny German accent. “Ve have vays of making you talk.” He tickled her around the ribs again and she yelped, pulling on his grip. “I hate you.” He shook his head and leaned in close until he could whisper in her ear. “I hate you, too.” Warmth stirred low in her stomach, but she couldn’t tell if it came from laughing so hard her sides hurt, or from his warm breath tickling her ear. She quivered as wild sensations darted throughout her body. He pulled back slightly and removed his glasses. She wished he hadn’t. Unencumbered by the lenses, his gaze assessed her as if he saw her for the first time. His fingers loosened on her wrists.

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She was caught in a web, encompassed by a sweet, indefinable glow expanding in her body. She felt positively giddy. Her senses went on overdrive, and she heard the harshness of her breath and every one of his slow, deep exhalations. His scent teased her nostrils and screamed pure masculinity. And his face, which should have been as familiar as her own, suddenly became fascinating. The arch of his thick, dark brows, the handsome cut of his jaw. His nose, strong and patrician, didn’t overpower the absolutely sensual curve of his mouth. She blinked. Get a grip, Courtney. This is crazy. His gaze dropped to her lips, and she felt his stare as if he touched her skin with a feather. When he gazed back into her eyes she saw voracious need and an urgency she didn’t quite understand. Whatever it was, though, it felt dangerous. Powerful. Lethal to their friendship in a way she didn’t wish to risk. Her hair fell onto her cheek, a single strand touching her nose and lips. It tickled like crazy, and she twitched her nose to try to dislodge it. The stubborn hair stayed put. Slowly, without removing his gaze from hers, he reached out and brushed the hair aside. His fingers trailed lightly over her lips, sending a jolt of pleasure over her skin. Was he leaning slightly closer? Her heart started an erratic tattoo as his lips parted, as if he were about to say something…or about to— A knock on the door made them jump, and his eyes widened with surprise. Releasing her instantly, as if he’d been caught doing something naughty, he vaulted off the couch like a cow stabbed by a cattle prod. “I’ll get that,” he said, his voice a little husky. It was room service. Even as the server pushed in the generously appointed cart, Courtney’s nerves continued to jump. What had happened? Maybe nothing. The tremors of excitement she’d felt as he gently brushed the hair away from her face, his fingers touching her lips, the tenderness…all of it was a reaction to… Hunger. Yep. Starvation accounted for a variety of crazy mental aberrations. Starved and tickled half to death by her brat of a friend, she was bound to hallucinate about feelings that had no place between two buddies. By the way he’d scrammed off the couch, she knew he couldn’t wait to escape her. Forcing her emotions and wild physical sensations into submission, she observed the cart containing their dinner. A large ice bucket held a bottle of champagne, flutes for the bubbly, silverware, main course, veggies, soup, and a delectable-looking chocolate dessert… As the server lifted the lid off each silver tray, Morgan made noises of approval. The server set their dinner on the small table at one corner of the room. Once it was entirely arranged, the man left the room.

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“Place mats. Real silverware and everything,” Courtney said as she sat down. “This is great.” “Try the champagne.” Morgan poured her a flute of the bubbly and sat across the table from her. He watched as she brought the crystal to her lips. As he watched her drink with studied concentration, she felt a disturbance deep within her. She glanced at him as she took the first sip, as the bubbles popped over her lips and tongue. His brows went up as she lowered the flute. “Like it?” She nodded and smiled, and he smiled with her. Somehow she didn’t trust herself to speak right away. For the first time in a long time she felt secure and happy. She wanted to savor the moment. Stretch it out for as far as it would go. Speaking would mar the delightful zing dancing through her. They ate in silence for a short while before she spoke. “Boy, what does this champagne cost? Ten dollars a mouthful?” He laughed. “Shut up and enjoy it.” “Hey, give me a break. I’ve never even stayed in a hotel like this before.” He sipped his champagne. “You’ve been missing a lot.” “How often have you stayed in resorts?” “A few times.” His mobile lips twitched up at the corners in a smile she recognized as conspiratorial. He tasted a piece of shrimp before responding. “This isn’t the first time I’ve ever pretended to be married.” She almost dropped her fork. “What?” He leaned back in his chair, contentedly chewing before responding. “When I was nineteen I went to the Canon Heights Hotel with Sandy Fremont and we signed the register as Mr. and Mrs. Filbert.” She knew her eyes had to be bulging. “Randy Sandy?” He laughed. “That’s the one.” Fork gripped tight in her fingers, she leaned forward. Morgan with Sandy Fremont? She wasn’t sure whether to laugh hysterically at the picture it brought to mind, or feel disappointed he never told her. “But she was a cheerleader, a valedictorian, the most popular girl in high school.” He cocked one eyebrow. “And?” She let her fork drop to her plate with a clatter. “I can’t picture you and her together.” “Why not?” Why not indeed? She never imagined in a million years that Morgan would be libidinous at nineteen and shack up at the exclusive Canon Heights Hotel with someone as pretty and popular as Sandy. On the other hand, they did say boys at nineteen had a

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tremendously horny sex drive. Still, she didn’t think popular girls gave Morgan the time of day back then. Her mouth opened, then closed. Or maybe it was the idea of her friend, Morgan, making love with any woman. When she didn’t answer, he grinned. “Kind of boggles the mind, doesn’t it?” She wanted to ask him if he’d been a virgin…if he’d made a habit of taking women to hotels and playing married in order to— “That was the first and last time…with the exception of this trip, that I ever played husband. It was only for one night.” “Oh,” she said, looking at her shrimp with a false air of interest. One night with Morgan. A slow flush heated her body. Deciding she had to steer away from the intimacy of the conversation, she took a healthy swallow of champagne. “I thought you did a lot of traveling with your parents when you were younger? They went on vacations to exotic places.” “Alone. Taking kids to resorts of this type can cramp your style. Many of the places they traveled to weren’t that kid friendly.” She speared a piece of cauliflower. “This must be a unique place then. They have a babysitting service and a kids’ game room, a playground, and an arcade.” “Aren’t you glad we don’t have to worry about that?” Kids. The thought sent a momentary twinge of discomfort through her. Stan had wanted several children. But he’d also said she had to stay home with them. No ifs, ands or buts. Her accounting career would be over, he’d said. Giving her an ultimatum was not what she initially expected from Stan. She knew she wanted one or two children, and she wanted her career. Working at home was an option— “Hey, you okay?” Startled out of her musings, she said, “Sure. I was just thinking.” His firm lips twisted into a lopsided grin. “About the price of each mouthful of scampi? Or the fact that I’m already eating my Heart Inn Sin and you’re still picking at your shrimp?” “Sorry. I guess I’m not as hungry as I thought.” His grin disappeared. “Are you okay?” She forced another piece of shrimp into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully before she answered. “I’m fine. I was thinking about kids, that’s all. Stan wanted children but he said I’d have to give up my accounting career to have them.” Morgan grunted, scorn passing over his even features. “Stan is a fool, Courtney.” “So you’ve told me several times.” She finished her champagne and reached for the bottle to pour another glass.

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“It’s true.” “A lot of women give up their careers to stay home and take care of children.” He nodded. “Sure they do. But it’s their choice. Or at least it should be.” She’d never heard him express feelings about family life, and curiosity built within her. “What do you think? I mean, if you had a wife and you decided to have children, would you want her to stay home with them?” “I’d want her to be happy. And if that meant staying home with our kids then I’d do everything I could to make it a reality for her. But only if she wanted that.” “What if she wanted to have a child, stay home for a short time, then go back to work?” “It would be fine with me.” His eyes grew warm and serious behind his glasses. “Obviously you weren’t the right woman for Stan.” He snorted. “If there’s any such thing as a right woman for that idiot.” When she didn’t say anything he continued. “Did you honestly consider giving up your career to do what a sanctimonious twit like Stanley Ashford wanted you to do?” She sighed and thought back to the last big fight with Stan. “It was one of the issues that broke us up.” His gaze rested on her face with obvious attention. “When I told him I wanted to wait for awhile after marriage to have kids and that I wanted my career, he went off on me.” His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean went off?” “Went into a rage.” She shuddered at the memory of the contempt she’d seen in Stan’s eyes. “He actually put his fist through the wall. It scared me so much I knew I had to leave. That night. I never realized, until that moment, the power he’d had over me.” “You were very smart to get out. You can find a better man.” “All the good ones are taken.” “Oh come on. You know that’s not true.” “Statistics say that when you reach my age the possibility of finding a man has decreased incredibly.” “That’s crap. You’re only twenty-seven.” “And a lot of men are looking for young bods like those…” she gestured at the TV, which wasn’t on, “…those beach volleyball babes.” He laughed. “Sounds like the title of a bad B horror movie.” He held his hands out. “I can see the marquee right now. ‘Beach volleyball babes from hell’.” Exasperated, she sighed. “I don’t think there’s a man out there for me. And that’s okay. Because I don’t need a man.” “Of course not. You’ve worked hard in your career. He had no right to try and take it away from you by saying it was babies or a career. That is your choice, Courtney, and don’t you forget it.”

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The vehemence in his tone surprised her. His feelings intrigued her, urged her to peel back the layers of mystery he’d used to cloak himself. Morgan always projected a cross between quiet intellectual and steely strength. Often she imagined him loitering on a hilltop gazing resolutely into the distance, his mind wandering through eons of philosophical problems. “Rachel told you what was going on between me and Stan, didn’t she?” Courtney asked. “I mean, you and I didn’t see each other much when I was dating him.” “Rachel didn’t have to say much. I sensed something was wrong.” “How?” He pushed his hands through his thick hair and leaned back in his chair. “You didn’t spend time around me anymore. Whenever I did see you, either Stan was there giving me the evil eye or you couldn’t have lunch or dinner with me because of some excuse that you needed to get back to Stan.” Guilt stung her like a bee. She slowly stood and walked to the window to examine the mountains in the distance. “I really neglected our friendship, didn’t I?” She heard him come up behind her, but she didn’t dare look at him. Would she see the disappointment fresh in his eyes? Perhaps blame? “Yes. You did.” Well, if Morgan was anything he was honest. “I’m sorry.” He clasped her shoulders, and she felt the strength of his fingers press gently into her flesh. “You’re forgiven. It was a bad time for you. Besides, I wasn’t exactly a saint myself.” She turned, and his touch followed. He gripped her shoulders lightly when she faced him. As she gazed into his dark eyes she lost herself. Floating on a breeze of sensation, she felt that heat in her belly again. Hell, even with glasses on he was downright gorgeous. No man has a right to such long lashes or such sinfully soulful eyes. Disoriented by the pleasure of his nearness, she spoke without thinking. “I think I’ll save the sin for later.” Looking thoroughly confused, he asked, “What?” “The cake. I think I’ll save it for later.” He cleared his throat. “Oh.” Embarrassment zapped through her. Why did his simple touch, something she’d felt many times over the years, now turn her into a mindless, babbling airhead? It didn’t make sense. His gaze landed on her mouth, and his own lips parted. “Delicious.” “Hmm?” It was his turn to appear discombobulated. “The cake. It was delicious.” “Uh-huh.”

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A glow of pleasure added to the pleasant buzz from the champagne. Maybe the champagne made her feel a cross between happy and sad? She’d lost something, but she also believed something else could emerge right around the corner if she knew where to look. But the gravity in his gaze frightened her. So she switched gears and moved away from the past where so many hurtful memories remained. She smiled. “What did you do that keeps you from sainthood? Were you running amok with blonde beach babes from hell?” He laughed, and his contagious mirth sent her into a laugh as well. Then he suddenly sobered, intriguing warmth back in his eyes. His fingers lightly caressed her upper arms. “God, but you’re beautiful when you laugh,” he said huskily. She lost her grip on her champagne and it spilled directly onto his shirtfront and down the front of his navy pants. He released her as she gasped in dismay. She ran for a towel in the bathroom. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.” “It’s no big deal,” he called out. “I always wanted to take a bath in Dom Perignon. But since it’s twenty dollars a mouthful I thought bubble bath might be more prudent.” “Twenty dollars! I thought it was ten dollars a mouthful.” “Well, at two hundred dollars a bottle divided by…never mind.” She burst out in laughter and dampened the towel at the sink. When she came back into the room Morgan’s bare chest confronted her, and he began to unbutton his pants. Oh, my God. She tried to remember the last time she’d seen his chest and realized it was years. Hidden under conservative suits, he’d always appeared on the gangly and skinny side. This man’s body threw her heart into cardiac arrest. He’s disgustingly gorgeous. Sprinkled with black hair, his sculpted chest, powerful arms and washboard stomach showed he spent time lifting weights. “Morgan!” He looked up as his pants dropped to the floor. “What?” “What do you think you’re doing?” “Taking a shower. If I don’t I’ll smell like a wino all night.” He paraded past her in just his briefs, went straight into the bathroom, and closed the door. She swallowed hard. As he’d walked by she’d gotten an eyeful. White briefs hugged his slim hips and a large bulge between his thighs. She drew in a sharp breath. And his butt…well…nice tight buns completed the picture. Agog, she sat down on the bed, then flopped backwards holding the damp towel. “I don’t believe this.” Well, at least she knew now what kind of briefs he wore.

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Chapter Six As the first rays of morning filtered under the thick curtains of the hotel room, Morgan watched Courtney from his cramped position on the love seat. Observing Courtney sleeping must be one of the most fascinating things he’d ever done. For such a simple action it gave him unusual joy. Yeah. Watching her sleep was better than hiking to the top of a mountain and looking down at where he’d been and seeing the progress he’d made. Nothing used to be better than that. Until now. For most of his life he thought nothing could beat hiking, fishing, and camping. Gallivanting around the globe like his sister Caren did, or joining the military like his brother Mark didn’t appeal to Morgan. His income came from his antique business, and he enjoyed the quiet of being alone with objects old and covered with dust. But when he was in the outdoors, taking in the fresh air and communing with nature, he was in seventh heaven. Heaven didn’t describe his protesting muscles as he shifted on the love seat. From his uncomfortable position, Morgan cursed his chivalry. Courtney would have fit on this midget-sized couch a lot better. He tossed the blanket off and strode across the thickly carpeted floor to the window. He parted the curtains and squinted into the dazzling light spilling over the horizon. Time to swim. He needed something to clear champagne cobwebs and his crazy imagination. Courtney’s tousled hair peeking out from under the covers caught his eye. He sat on the edge of the bed and took the risk she might wake. She barely stirred. Her dark hair lay on the pillow, the wispy fringe of her bangs tantalizing him so much he almost reached out and touched her forehead. He almost groaned out loud. Thinking like this about his friend was stupid. Of all the people in the world, he’d never thought of this woman as anything more than his best buddy. Last night he’d felt anything but platonic. He’d wanted to touch her in intimate, personal ways, to caress and kiss her. Let’s not go there, Morgan. He smiled. He’d enjoyed shocking her when he’d taken his shirt and pants off last night to take a shower. Just the sort of immature prank he would have pulled as teen. Besides, it had taken the gravity out of the conversation. Initially it hadn’t occurred to him not to take off his clothes in front of her. Until he’d seen her face. Her shocked expression had surprised him. He wasn’t embarrassed

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by his body—he worked out and knew it showed. He wasn’t an exhibitionist, though, and he’d scuttled into the bathroom like a bug chased by an inquisitive bird. When he’d come out she was laying on the bed, asleep. Careful not to wake her, he’d taken off her shoes and covered her with a blanket. Then he’d retreated to the torture device people had the audacity to call a “love seat”. Sometime during the night she must have risen and removed her clothes, because she lay under the covers. She wore a white T-shirt with cute bunnies on the front. A surge of affection gathered in him, threatening to overturn the steel guard he’d put around his emotions when it came to women. When she’d discussed her life with Stan, he’d experienced wild emotions that had threatened to make him come unglued. “This is insane,” he whispered. As he looked down at the pale curve of her cheek and the way her breasts rose and fell, his heart got stuck somewhere in his throat and lodged painfully. She wasn’t the awkward teenager anymore. Instead she was self-possessed, competent, and energetic. She’d been a damn good friend to him until she’d hooked up with Stan. A disturbing thought came to mind. He wondered if she still loved Stan and if she missed him. He hated to think of Courtney spending her life wanting a man who’d controlled her, tried to manipulate and suck the life from her. Hell, she deserved more. She needed to find a man who would love her, honor her, and keep her until death do you part. Then he remembered she’d said she didn’t need a man. Maybe she was right. She’d been burned. He knew what it felt like to have a broken heart. Claudia Alonzo had seen to that. It had taken him more than a year to recover from his broken engagement from the woman he’d thought he wanted to share his life with. Scared by the sudden pounding of his heart, he retreated to the bathroom to change for a swim.

***** Courtney lay in bed for several seconds wondering where the hell she was. Vaguely pieces came together. Dinner last night. The delightful feel of champagne bubbles bursting on her tongue. The sight of Morgan’s almost naked body. She sat bolt upright and looked toward the love seat. He wasn’t there, and the bathroom door was open. No sign of him. Good. She needed some time alone to digest the bizarre emotions last night had generated. Reluctantly she admitted the sight of Morgan stalking around in form-fitting underwear probably wouldn’t have stopped her heart a few weeks ago. She smiled.

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Who was she kidding? Any woman who didn’t find his body mouthwatering must be half-dead. She allowed her mind to drift back to last night, and swallowed hard. Somehow she’d always imagined him in boxer shorts. The type with silly cartoons on them. Instead he wore briefs that molded every attribute, including his tight butt. She put a hand to her mouth. She had to get a grip. Right then she spotted a folded piece of paper at the foot of the bed and reached for it. Squirt, Went to the pool for a swim. Meet me there. Morgan. After hurrying through a shower, she put on the two-piece bathing suit and delighted in the knowledge she hadn’t gained ten pounds overnight. She put a T-shirt and shorts over the suit and slid into her sandals. Gathering up the beach bag she’d brought with her, she grabbed a magazine and headed down to the pool. The Olympic-size swimming pool wasn’t busy at this time of the morning. A young blonde sunned on a lawn chair, two elderly ladies waded in the shallow end. Morgan did laps in the deep end. She commandeered a lawn chair. Morgan started a lap back in her direction and stopped to push his wet hair out of his face. Smiling, he waved at her and went to the side of the pool. As he stood up, water sluiced off him in sheets, and he shook his head so that the water ran down his face. Her breath caught in her throat. Despite what she’d seen of his body last night, her female instincts reacted to him with fresh excitement. Her heartbeat kicked into ramjet speed and that telltale pulsation low in her belly started again. Droplets of water clung to his long arms, broad chest and wide shoulders. As he walked she saw every contraction and movement of his sinew-hard arms, and long, strong legs. Black Speedos rode low on his hips and left little to the imagination. His crooked grin widened as he snatched his towel from the lawn chair next to her and proceeded to dry off. “Morning.” She closed her mouth. If she didn’t stop gaping at him like a beached carp, she might catch flies. “Morning.” “I was about to get an orange juice,” he said, gesturing toward the poolside bar. “Want anything?” Since her mouth tasted like cardboard, she said, “Sounds good.” She refused to take more than a quick glance at his butt as he walked off. Hastily she rifled through her beach bag and found her sunglasses. It was definitely too bright out here. An elegant-looking older woman came into the poolside area. She wore a light yellow sundress and carried a beach bag and a Bloody Mary. Although there were 44

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several lawn chairs on this side of the pool, the woman sat a couple chairs over from Courtney. “Good morning,” she said, her lined face creasing as she smiled. She ran a hand over her short, white hair. “My name’s Edna Cartwright.” “Hi. Courtney Devons.” Edna looked at the sparkling ring on Courtney’s finger. “Ah, you’re a newlywed.” Courtney smiled. “How did you guess?” “Almost everyone who comes here is. Besides that, you have the special glow of a woman in love.” Startled, Courtney sat up straighter. “Oh?” “I’m sorry, dear. Don’t mind me.” She dug around in the plastic bag she’d brought with her and produced a floppy straw hat with gaudy plastic flowers lining the brim. She plopped it upon her head and took a deep sip of her drink. “I’m afraid I often open my mouth without thinking. By the way, you’ve heard the legend surrounding the inn, haven’t you, dear?” “I saw photographs of engaged couples.” Edna sipped her drink and waved a hand that boosted a ring on every finger but her thumb. “This is a place for discovery. For lovers. Did you meet your husband here?” Husband. The appellation sounded so strange. “No. We met in Denver.” Edna gestured to the bar. “That him over there talking with the buxom blonde?” At the mention of the blonde, Courtney snapped around to look. Sure enough, Morgan chatted with a lusciously carved woman. “That’s him.” “My, oh, my. I’d say you’d better rescue him. That woman looks like she’d like to eat him up with a spoon.” Courtney stared at the older woman, unsure whether to feel amusement or annoyance. She glanced back at the bar and had a pure, visceral response as the blonde had the gall to put her hand on Morgan’s leg. His thigh, no less. Then, to add insult to injury, he placed his hand over hers. Courtney gasped and turned away from the sight. Edna chuckled. “Honey, he’s a rascal if I ever saw one.” “I could care less.” Edna frowned and took another sip of her drink. “Sweetie, he’s your husband. Why wouldn’t you care?” Courtney’s brain locked up like a computer without enough memory. If Courtney wasn’t upset by the way Morgan allowed the woman to touch him, it would seem odd. “We have an arrangement.”

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“Sugar, forgive me if I’m a nosy old woman, but are you talking about one of those open marriages? My cousin Delia tried that back in the Sixties at one of those love communes. Whooeeee, let me tell you. That was a mess.” Courtney imagined Morgan cavorting with several delectable ladies. Somehow, the idea wasn’t so funny. “Ugh.” “Exactly.” “We don’t have that kind of open marriage.” “I didn’t think so. I’d say you need to give Miss Bombshell there a little competition.” Edna cast a disparaging look at Courtney’s clothes. “Is that all you have? T-shirt and shorts?” “No. I’ve got a bikini under here.” “Well, for goodness sakes why don’t you show it? What’s the point in wearing a bikini if you can’t flaunt what you’ve got?” “I don’t think my equipment comes anywhere close to what Miss Universe has.” “Nonsense,” quipped the older woman. Throwing caution aside, Courtney removed the T-shirt and shorts. Then she lay back on the chair, distinctly self-conscious. Edna nodded her approval and smiled. She stirred her drink with the celery stalk then took a sip. “You’ve got a lovely figure. I used to look like that when I was your age.” She gazed up at the heavens. “My Ernie, God rest his soul, never looked at another woman when I wore a bathing suit. And I dare say your young man won’t either when he lays eyes on you.” Edna’s assurances didn’t soothe the green monster rearing its ugly head every time Courtney replayed the sight of Miss Congeniality putting her hand on Morgan’s thigh. Courtney closed her eyes. How could she be jealous? He wasn’t her husband, for heaven’s sake. He could play around all he liked and good riddance. She was going to Alan’s aerobic class today come hell or high water. To banish thoughts of jealousy, Courtney looked at Edna and asked, “Tell me more about the Heart Inn.” After chattering away pleasantly for several minutes with Edna, Courtney noticed that the blonde had returned to her chair. Morgan walked toward Courtney and Edna, his expression casual, as if a half nude woman hadn’t been caressing his naked flesh. “I see your hubby is making his way back to you, Sugar,” Edna said. “I better go back inside before I burn to a crisp. Hope to see you around.” As she got up and started to turn away she hesitated. “Say, do you like mountain scenery?” “Of course.” “How’d you like to take in the sights of Heart Hill behind the hotel? It’s a lovely drive. If you and your hubby have a vehicle equipped for it, you might want to try it. It’s not a long drive, and some people say it’s magical up there.” She winked. “Cures whatever ails you.” 46

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Bemused by the other woman’s intriguing mix of sweetness and brass, Courtney watched Edna depart. Morgan plopped onto the lawn chair next to Courtney. Courtney didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. If she did he’d see the discomfort in her eyes. She flipped through a magazine. “Wow,” he whispered softly. She proceeded to turn a page in the magazine very slowly and casually. “Wow?” When he didn’t say anything, curiosity overwhelmed her and she looked at him. He was staring at her with the most blatantly devouring, most admiring look she’d ever seen in a man’s eyes. Taken aback by the carnal assessment in his gaze, she let the magazine flutter closed. “This is the suit you got on sale?” he asked, reaching out to touch the shoulder strap of the halter-top. She felt the warm tingle of his touch and drew in a deep breath. “Yes.” Before he could say another word, a shadow fell over them. The statuesque blonde who had fondled Morgan’s leg stood next to Morgan’s chair. Her toothpaste-ad teeth gleamed as she smiled down at him. “Hi, Morgan. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your little friend?” Courtney felt the hair on the back of her neck bristle. Little friend? True, she’d been petite when she was fourteen. Morgan hadn’t given her the nickname Squirt for nothing. But at eighteen she’d shot up and filled out. And lucky for her, she’d managed to stay in decent shape. Nothing like the tanned and toned woman grinning territorially at Morgan, but not exactly chopped liver, either. “Felicia Glover, this is Courtney Devons, my wife.” Hah! He’d managed to remember his role of husband in some capacity. Felicia’s handshake was like being caught in a vise. “Pleased to meet you, Courtney. Morg here was telling me all about you.” Courtney lifted an eyebrow. “Morg?” Felicia laughed. “Oh, Morgan, you haven’t told your wife about the nickname you got at that convention?” Courtney’s other eyebrow lifted. “Convention?” Morgan gave Courtney a tight smile and put his hand possessively on her thigh. Her muscles twitched. “You remember, honey? The one I attended right before we were engaged.” Courtney shook her head. What the hell was he talking about? “Sorry, Morg, I don’t remember that one.” Felicia’s grin widened as she patted Morgan on the back. Courtney twitched again. As far as she was concerned there was far too much touching going on. Felicia giggled. “Morg, you scoundrel. You didn’t tell her?”

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Courtney had the satisfaction of seeing his face turn red. “Darling, I think you’ve been out in the sun too long.” Courtney smiled and patted his arm. “You’re as red as a lobster.” She looked down at her skin. “And would you look at me? I think I’m getting a little pink.” She stood. If Morgan had a few sultry secrets in his closet, she didn’t care. What he’d done before he married her— Oh, God. She really had been out in the sun too long. She turned on her heel and headed away from the pool. “Courtney!” Morgan’s voice sounded distinctly pained, as if he were an eight-year old trapped playing Old Maid with his elderly aunt.

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Chapter Seven “Why don’t you want to go aerobics class with me, Morg?” Courtney asked through the closed bathroom door. Morgan gritted his teeth at Courtney’s use of Felicia’s pet name for him. He rifled through the chest of drawers for athletic socks. After Courtney had stalked away from the pool, he’d been trapped listening to Felicia prattle about her antique shop in Seattle. Eventually he escaped back to the hotel room. After the way Courtney had left the pool, he would have thought she was ready to deck him. Now she wanted him to attend Alan’s aerobics class? When Courtney acted this congenial right after behaving as if she could thwack him, he should remain on guard. He was definitely on her shit list. “No,” he said, locating shorts and a T-shirt. “Oh, come on. I’m sure it’ll be good for you. Of course you could go back out and swim. I’m sure Felicia would appreciate it.” “What in the Sam Hill are you talking about?” She mumbled, but he couldn’t hear what she said. By the time she came out of the bathroom, he’d changed into his shorts, T-shirt and athletic shoes. When he caught sight of the blue sports bra and white bike shorts she wore, he took a deep breath. The bra hugged her full breasts, and the spandex shorts molded her thighs. In some ways, the sinful suggestion of her exercise gear tantalized him more than her hot red bikini. He shook his head, hoping the motion would clear the carnal thoughts racing through his head. She marched to the wet bar and retrieved a bottle of water. “Sure you don’t want to come to class? There will be all sorts of beautiful women there, I’m sure.” “And what makes you think I’m interested in watching a bunch of beautiful women hopping and jumping—” “Think about it, Morg. Skin-hugging leotards. Skimpy shorts. Form-fitting spandex. This is your vacation. Live a little.” He had to admit that he’d told her chiefly the same thing when he’d suggested she splurge on the swimsuit and champagne. “As appetizing as it sounds, I hate aerobics. I’ll hit the treadmill and the weight machine.” Her eyes flashed with mischief. He’d seen this mood before. It would take a mule team to drag from her what shenanigans she had in mind. Devilment in her expression made him curious, and almost willing to join aerobics.

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“I’ll make you a bet,” she said. “I think you don’t want to do the aerobics because you know I’ll kick your butt.” “Huh!” “It’s true. I’ll bet you a drink that I can outlast you.” He could never resist a Courtney challenge. As teens they’d challenged each other to arcade games, chess, checkers, and a dozen other ventures. “Put like that, I don’t think I can resist. Under one condition.” “I bet you a drink.” He closed the gap until he stood within six inches of her. Holy shit, she smelled good. He watched her reaction and enjoyed the apprehension flitting over her features. Unholy mischief churned excitement inside him. “Your terms are too wimpy. I’ve got another proposition.” “I don’t know if I like the sound of that.” “It’s not a bad deal. If I win you sleep on the love seat tonight—” “No way.” “Way. If I lose, I’m relegated back to the love seat.” She pondered the idea for a moment before she tucked the bottle of water in her bag and headed for the door, a sly smile curving her lips. “Okay, you’re on.” When they reached the fitness center, Courtney led him past the main desk toward a small gym cordoned off from the rest of the center. A conglomeration of old and young people formed rows at Alan’s direction. He was dressed in black bike shorts and a muscle shirt. As Courtney paused in the doorway, Morgan said, “Bike shorts?” She glanced up at him. “What’s the problem? I’m wearing them.” He shrugged. “Well, you look great—” He cleared his throat. “I mean, I’ve always found them too tight and constricting. Cuts off the circulation to important parts of my anatomy.” Her eyebrows winged up as she smiled. “What part? Your brain?” Before he could retort, Alan strode forward to greet them. “Courtney.” He nodded to Morgan. “So you’ve decided to let Courtney put you through the paces?” “Put me through the paces?” Morgan said, curiosity spiking within him. “I thought you were holding the class.” “I am, but Courtney explained to me a new dance aerobics routine she wanted to try, and I said we’d incorporate it into this session.” “It’s a killer routine,” she said, giving Morgan a grin that cemented his earlier assessment she was up to something. “Are you sure you want to do this one, Morgan?” “Wouldn’t miss it,” Morgan said. Several moments later Courtney and Morgan lined up next to each other in the front row. 50

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Morgan wondered, for the next several minutes, if he’d have to eat his words. He could see Courtney took care of her physical fitness despite the long hours she spent at the office. But she pushed herself hard. He could tell by the way she gasped for breath. He half expected to see her keel over any minute. Instead, she kept going and going and going, her movements fluid and graceful as she swayed to the music. The Energizer Bunny had nothing on this woman. Soon Morgan panted for breath and wished he hadn’t laid off his usual workout the last couple of weeks. Alan looked as if he were barely breaking a sweat. As his limbs slowed, Morgan noted Courtney’s smile. Sensing victory, damn her. “Enjoying…yourself?” she asked between gasps for air. “Immensely. This…is…the best sensation…I’ve had all…day.” “Well enjoy it, Morg. Because you’re…going…to lose this…bet.” “Okay!” Alan shouted over the beat of the music. “This is the tough part, folks. If you can’t keep up, feel free to drop out. Courtney, show us your stuff!” Swiftly, she moved from her row and replaced Alan, who took her spot in the front line next to Morgan. Morgan watched in fascination as he absorbed the view of her lithe body gyrating to the music. If he concentrated on watching her, he didn’t notice the stitch stabbing his side. Alan grinned at Courtney, and she winked at him. The stitch in Morgan’s side rebounded. A few people dropped out, pacing about the room to cool down. Morgan continued, refusing to stop and let either Courtney or Alan see he couldn’t compete. Before Morgan could wonder if he might collapse from heart failure, Alan went back to Courtney’s side. As the music changed to salsa overtones, Alan swept Courtney into his arms and the two did an impromptu dance that gave new meaning to the cliché of dirty dancing. Morgan heard titters of laughter all around him. Determined not to relent, and not amused by the way Alan held Courtney in his arms, Morgan kept going. For what seemed like eons he watched Courtney smiling at Alan and Alan smiling at Courtney like no one else in the world existed. The music changed back to a less strenuous pace. “Okay! Time to cool down!” Alan shouted above the music as he released Courtney. “Let’s march it out!” “Thank God,” Morgan gasped. “What?” Courtney yelled over the music. Morgan smiled but didn’t answer. Finally the music came to a stop and Morgan stopped abruptly, his lungs working like bellows. “Walk around, people. Don’t stop quickly or you might get lightheaded,” Alan said.

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Alan walked with Courtney, and he put his arm across her shoulders and said something into her ear. Morgan felt as if the blood had suddenly left his head when Courtney laughed and gave Alan a saucy smile. Alan’s gaze lazily assessed every one of Courtney’s gentle curves. Morgan’s jaw tightened. Damn, but the man had a lot of nerve coming on to other men’s wives. And what kind of wife let another man flirt with her? Morgan took a step toward them, feeling a little lightheaded himself. The floor became mush under his feet and the world around him went black.

***** Morgan thought he’d died and gone to heaven. Someone gently pushed their fingers through his hair, and a cool cloth traced over his face slowly. The stitch in his side had disappeared, and he no longer gasped for breath. He could tell his head lay on something soft, but not too yielding. “Morgan? Morgan can you hear me?” Courtney’s voice sounded anxious. Suddenly it came back to him. He’d decided to play the part of husband and rescue Courtney from Alan, when the ground had opened and swallowed him. “Alan, I’m getting worried about him,” Courtney said, distress lacing her voice. “He’s not coming around.” “He’s only been out a minute. House doctor should be here any second. Besides, his vitals are fine.” Morgan didn’t like doctors much, and he didn’t like the worry in her voice. Slowly he forced his eyes open and discovered his head nestled in her lap as she sat on the floor. She pressed a cool cloth to his face. “Morgan,” Courtney gasped. Relief crossed her features. “Are you all right?” “Yeah, I’m okay, Squirt.” Alan stared down at him, his expression caught somewhere between concern and disdain. He noticed, too, that several of the other people in the class circled around them like wagons ready for a siege by Indians in an old west movie. Great, just great. Not only had he lost his bet with Courtney, he’d made an ass out of himself falling flat on his butt. As much as he liked her attention, he didn’t want to cause her more concern, and he pushed himself into sitting position. “Easy,” she said, her arm going around him as he sat up. “Don’t move. The doctor should be here in a minute.” “I’m okay,” he said, smiling to ease the troubled expression in her eyes. “It takes a lot more than an aerobics class to get me down.” “It’s not like you to flop over like that, Morgan. You’re not going anywhere until the doctor checks you over.”

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He nodded. “When you said that routine was a killer, you really meant it.” Some of the class chuckled, including Alan, but she frowned. The sparkle in her eyes earlier when she’d performed the dance with Alan had disappeared. Impulsively, he reached up and cupped her face with one hand. “Hey, I’m all right.” “Don’t you ever do that me again,” she said stiffly, as if he’d planned to collapse in a heap. He opened his mouth to respond, but the doctor bustled in right at that moment. As Alan said goodbye to the other people in the class, and the doctor checked Morgan over, Morgan felt Courtney’s stare boring a hole in him. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen her look so frazzled. After listening to his heart, taking his blood pressure, and poking and prodding him, the doctor said, “You’ll do. Looks like you just stopped exercising too fast and fainted.” Fainted. What a freaking girly thing to do. He cleared his throat and smiled at the doctor. “Passed out, doctor. I passed out.” The doctor chuckled. “You’re right. Next time, walk around and cool down.” Morgan saluted. “You got it.” After the doctor left, Courtney sat in the chair next to Morgan and said, “Looks like you stay on the love seat.” He smiled. “You’d make me sleep on that love seat after I passed out? I thought after I fell over you’d feel sorry for me.” Before she could say a word, Alan walked over to them. “That was a fabulous job you did today with the class, Courtney. You ought to help me with the morning aerobics class tomorrow. I could really use the help before and after—” “We like to sleep in,” Morgan said, keeping the smile in his voice. Alan flashed a grin so bright it looked as if he’d used white shoe polish to brush his teeth. What the hell is this geek doing? Running for a part as a live Ken doll or something? “You must really be proud of Courtney,” Alan said. “She could be a dancer with those moves.” She flushed and looked from one man to the other. “I’m not that good.” “You were positively hot,” Alan said. She waggled her eyebrows at Alan. “Sinful?” Morgan cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s hot in here.” He put his arm around Courtney. “Why don’t we go back to our room and get a shower?” As they started out the door, Alan stopped them. “I hope you’re coming to the karaoke competition in Tangos Restaurant later tonight.” Morgan said, “I don’t think—” 53

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“We’d love to,” she said, as if she couldn’t wait. “In fact, Morgan is an excellent singer. Aren’t you, Morg?” Morgan sighed. “Oh yeah. I’m a regular John Denver.” “I won a ribbon last year in the same competition. Do you sing, Courtney?” Alan asked. “I can harmonize a bit but I’m no great shakes.” “I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Alan said, smiling down on her. Morgan drew her closer, his arm tight around her waist. Looking down on her as he spoke, Morgan injected as much lust into his voice as he could. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to make it out of our rooms tonight, Ken—I mean Alan.” Morgan watched a pink tinge warm her face. “You know how it is with newlyweds.” Alan nodded. “I understand. Well, I’ll see you later.” As he departed, she pulled away from Morgan’s grip. “Was that really necessary?” “What?” “That…that smarmy kissy-face act.” “Kissy-face? If you think—” “You’re never going to get the chance—” “—what was all that bull about me being able to sing? You know I can’t carry a tune in a bag.” She heaved a sigh. “I figured you deserved a little more pain.” Courtney walked off and he followed her. “What are you talking about?” She turned so quickly he almost collided with her. A small frown creased her forehead. “You know better than to stop dead like that after exercising. Why did you push yourself so hard?” He smiled. “I never back down from a challenge. You should know that by now.” She shook her head and moved on. He sauntered up next to her and put his arm around her shoulders. When she’d looked down on him, cradling his head in her lap, he’d been galvanized by the distress he’d seen in her eyes. He had a perverse desire to see that warmth, if not the uneasiness, in her eyes once more. “Worried about me?” he asked. She moved out from under his arm. “Yes, I was worried. And if you ever do that again, I’ll kill you.” As Courtney made a break from the fitness center, Morgan not far behind, she knew she walked a fine high wire. Ever since she’d started this vacation with Morgan, her emotions rocketed along on a roller-coaster ride that didn’t stop. Weren’t vacations designed for relaxing and stress-free enjoyment?

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But no. Morgan Lucas drove her irrevocably insane. Obviously taking a vacation with him didn’t rate as the best idea she’d ever had. Not only did he enjoy laying the husband role on thick, she hadn’t recovered from seeing Morgan’s face go deathly white and then watching him collapse. Terror had practically closed her throat. She’d thought he’d had a heart attack. When he’d opened his eyes she’d felt relief so staggering she almost chocked on it. Now he acted as if nothing strange had happened. In fact, he seemed more concerned about Alan’s attention toward her than he did his own health. Alan’s flirting was amusing and flattering, and she hoped to get to know him better. But Morgan’s reaction every time Alan came on to her drove her nuts. If she didn’t know Morgan, she would say he was jealous. The idea almost stopped her in her tracks. Nah. It wasn’t possible. Inconceivable. Once they entered the hotel room, she stalked toward the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower.” Before she could take two steps, he reached for her arm and pulled her toward him. “I need to talk to you.” “Can this wait?” “Are you okay?” he asked softly. His quiet voice disarmed her, and any retort she planned disappeared from her lips. “I’m fine.” “I don’t believe you.” Bringing her closer, his hands caressed her shoulders. “I think we need to talk.” “There’s nothing to talk about.” He closed his eyes for a moment then opened them on a sigh. “Courtney, talk to me like you used to. Before you met Stan. You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?” She put her hands on his chest and pushed slightly, but he didn’t release her. “We’re supposed to be acting like a married couple and yet you were flirting with Miss…Miss Silicone Valley like you’re a single man.” “Flirting? I wasn’t flirt—” “She was playing touchy-feely with your thigh and you let her.” Comprehension finally dawned on his face. He smiled and released her. “I see. I think a few things are starting to make sense now.” She folded her arms and tilted her head to the side. “They are?” His grin grew cocky as he moved a step toward her. She took a step back but he followed and soon she bumped against the bar with no place to go. “You’re jealous.” That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “That’s crazy, Morgan.” He placed one arm on each side of her and leaned close. “It also explains why you’ve been kissing up to Alan.”

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Her heart hammered as awareness of Morgan so close sent waves of heat over her. She swallowed hard as his masculinity sent her libido into a whirlwind. Why was he acting like a man who wanted to kiss her until she couldn’t stand upright? Her dear friend Morgan, acting like the possessive, eager lover? It sounded delicious. Full of endless possibilities. Oh, no. No, no. She wouldn’t think about it and it would go away. “Give me a break,” she said. “The man’s a silly aerobics instructor with less brains in his head than—” He laughed. “So you admit he’s a pea-brain.” She shrugged. “He’s not exactly a rocket scientist, but then neither are you. Besides, all he’s probably after is a roll in the hay.” The jab didn’t even budge him. The warmth she saw in his eyes, mixed with satisfaction, disconcerted her more than she wanted to admit. “I don’t roll in the hay,” he said softly, one corner of his mouth turned up in a mocking smile. “But it sounds like something I should try.” “I saw how you were acting, Morg, so there’s no point in denying it. I saw you put your hand over hers when she was touching your thigh. It looked pretty cozy to me.” He smiled again. “I put my hand over hers and then removed it from my thigh. I guess you didn’t see that part.” He shifted so he almost touched her and she tried to summon the will to feel indignant. Instead, to her horror, the strange excitement and breathlessness she’d felt a moment ago increased. “Do me a favor,” he said softly. “Don’t call me Morg.” “All right. I apologize for calling you Morg, even though I’d like to hear how you got that ridiculous nickname.” “It’s a long story.” “You can tell me.” “I don’t think so.” “Why not?” “Why are you so interested?” Why was she so interested? If he wanted to dally with someone during his vacation that remained his business. She was free to go her way, and he was free to go his. Obviously it would give him a great deal of amusement to think she might be forming a thing for him. She’d have to straighten him out once and for all. She shrugged. “Never mind. We’re on this vacation to have a good time. You do what you want, I do what I want. If you wish to flirt with Felicia, go for it.” He looked surprised at her words, but he nodded. 56

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With that parting shot, she turned and went into the bathroom.

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Chapter Eight “How does it look?” Courtney emerged from the bathroom and turned in a slow circle for Morgan’s inspection. At first he thought he was having a very strange, very mild form of panic attack. He couldn’t seem to get his breath. As Courtney made a pirouette, he noticed that the sleeveless royal blue dress skimmed her breasts, waist, and hips with loving attention. As she made one more turn, his hungry gaze took in the keyhole back exposing her creamy skin. The skirt ended just above her knees. “Well?” she asked. She walked toward him slowly, and in his vivid imagination, he visualized thighhigh stockings clinging to her firm thighs and a skimpy bra cupping her full breasts. He fantasized about the glossy sheen of her hair against his skin. This is not good, Morgan. You’re having a wild fantasy about Courtney. Think, man. This is Courtney. She peered at him. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve swallowed something revolting.” Mentally he shook himself and managed a smile. “I… You surprised me with the dress.” Doubt widened her eyes, and tiny furrows appeared between her brows. “Do you think it’s too revealing? I could put something on a bit more conservative.” He heard it in her voice. That edge of uncertainty that never used to be there. Before she’d met Stan she’d been one of the most self-assured individuals he knew. He chucked her gently under the chin. “Of course not. You look…ravishing.” She looked heavenward, then back at him. “Right. Now you’re going over the top.” As she reached for his tie and began adjusting it, he took inventory of her features. Tonight she looked more than ravishing. Had he really thought of her as simply pretty the other day when she’d come into his shop to ask him to marry her? He felt a jolt of pure, masculine hunger grip his loins. He gritted his teeth and fought for control. “There. Finally,” she said, giving the knot in his tie one last jerk upward. He made a strangling noise. “Are you trying to kill me?” “Possibly,” she said lightly, and turned away.

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He took a deep breath and let it out. He must get control of these wild physical reactions to her before he did something he’d regret. Nothing was worth risking the friendship he had with Courtney. He stared into the mirror over the dresser. After he reached for a comb and gave his hair one last sweep, he smiled. He should wear his contacts more often. Without those chunky glasses, he looked less like a nerd. As if on queue, she turned to him and smiled. “You should wear those contacts all the time now you’ve got them.” He raised one eyebrow. “You like ‘em?” “They make you look…even more handsome.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she looked disconcerted, as if she’d said something nasty. Sensing her embarrassment, he grinned. Shortly afterward they headed out to the restaurant. “I wish we could skip the singing part of the evening,” Courtney said as they waited for seating in the restaurant. “If we’re lucky maybe we won’t have to listen Alan’s caterwauling.” She threw him a satirical smile. “He’s probably a great singer. Would he win a ribbon if he wasn’t good?” He saw Alan coming down the passageway to the restaurant. He was looking straight at them. “Great.” “What is it?” Morgan stepped closer to her, and he saw the confusion in her eyes as he moved quickly to kiss her at one corner of her mouth. “Morgan,” she gasped softly as he drew back, her eyes wide. “What was that for?” “Joe Jockstrap is heading this way. You want him to think we’re married, right?” “Of course, but—” He kissed her again. He meant it to be a fast peck, but as soon as his lips touched her incredibly soft, warm mouth, he lost several inhibitions in rapid succession. Although he touched her nowhere else, his lips caressed hers with featherlight brushes. Tenderness swamped him as he felt her tremble in response. She leaned slightly into him, and her lips clung to his. Without hesitation he took the kiss one step more, flicking his tongue lightly over her lips. She moaned into his mouth softly, and he was half tempted to deepen the kiss. He knew, if they had been alone, he would have. God, she’s so delicious. His groin tightened, arousal spearing through him like a knife. He almost forgot where they were, gathered her into his arms, and tasted her more thoroughly. “Good evening,” Alan said, breaking the mood.

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Morgan pulled away from Courtney, his lips tingling. When Morgan glanced at her, he noted her flushed cheeks and slightly dazed expression. “Good evening,” Morgan said. Slowly she looked at Alan. “How nice to see you.” Alan slapped Morgan on the back. “Glad you’re enjoying yourself. You’re in luck. You get to hear me sing tonight.” Morgan almost groaned. “Oh, really?” Courtney smiled. “We wouldn’t miss it.” After Morgan and Courtney were seated at an intimate table in a secluded corner, she turned a look on him that could have wilted lettuce. “You’re giving me that look again,” he said, studying the menu. “You’re right.” She leaned across the table and whispered, “Why did you kiss me?” “Alan was watching.” She sighed. “Was it really necessary to kiss me like that?” He put down the menu, leaned on the table and lowered his voice. “What way would you have me kiss you? A sweet, brotherly peck on the cheek?” “Morgan, that’s not what I mean and you know it.” “I told you. Alan was coming down the hall. I was trying to make it look good. Besides, that wasn’t much of a kiss.” She leaned back slightly, her expression affronted. “What do you mean?” Challenged once again, he lowered his voice and arched one eyebrow. “I’ll show you what I mean later.” “Later?” Her eyes widened and she sounded breathless. He liked the way her cheeks went pink, and he dared to wonder if embarrassment or excitement caused the reaction. Did she want him to kiss her again? The waiter arrived and took their orders before he could say more. Once the waiter left she said, “You don’t have to pretend so hard that you’re my husband.” He leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I haven’t even tried yet.” “What do you mean?” “I don’t think you’re angry because I kissed you.” He flashed back to the way her lips had clung to his in response. “You’re angry because you liked it.” Even in the subdued light he could see anger flash through her eyes. “That’s ridiculous, Morgan. From now on when you get this notion to kiss me, keep it…keep it…” “Chaste?” “Exactly.”

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He shrugged and smiled as he picked up his water glass and took a sip. “Okay, but do you think we can keep up this ‘kiss on the cheek’ stuff and have people believe we’re newlyweds?” “Yes.” He shook his head. “Everyone knows newlyweds can barely keep their hands off each other.” She started to speak, but music welled to fill the room. Several couples filed onto the dance floor. “Not everyone is into huge demonstrations of affection in public,” she said. He reached over and took her hand. She tried to pull it back, then noticed that Alan was coming their way again and subsided. “Doesn’t that guy ever go away?” Morgan asked. “Shhh.” When Alan arrived at the table he grinned in his plastic way, and Morgan felt like putting a stop to his meddling for the last time. Before Morgan could make another gesture that might discourage Alan, the aerobics instructor asked Courtney to dance and she accepted. As she left with Alan, her smile was as smug as a cat eating a fat mouse. Morgan saw Alan draw her closer and whisper into her ear. Morgan gritted his teeth, aware of an alarming feeling he hadn’t experienced in such a long time he almost didn’t recognize it. Jealousy. He had no right to chastise Courtney about jealousy. He barely held back a sound of self-disgust. This was not good. Alan talked to Courtney, making almost one-sided conversation over the elevated volume of the music. She enjoyed Alan’s pleasant discussion, but her mind kept drifting back to Morgan’s kiss. At the memory of Morgan’s lips on hers, a hot curl of desire spiraled through her stomach and her nipples tightened. She felt flustered, overheated and craving Morgan’s embrace. Morgan the nerd, Morgan the antique dealer never crossed her mind as a sexual being. She almost marched over to her table and demanded an explanation. Where has my old pal gone? Who kidnapped him and replaced him with a devastatingly gorgeous, hunky man who kissed like a dream? Her heart almost stopped when she remembered he’d threatened to kiss her again. More thoroughly. Is it hot in here? Annoyed with herself, she was glad Morgan acquiesced to the idea of chaste kisses from this point forward.

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Friends simply didn’t kiss like he’d kissed her. When his lips had molded to hers and his tongue had gently caressed, she’d almost put her arms around his neck and invited him to deepen the caress. What would his tongue have felt like against hers? She shivered at the mere thought. Okay, she had to admit it. Morgan’s kiss had turned her on. And that disturbed her in ways she didn’t want to think about. She stiffened in Alan’s arms as she noticed Morgan stared directly at them, his gaze hard and not at all friendly. He looked like he wanted to…what? Deck Alan? “How long have you been married?” Alan asked. Taken by surprise by his question, she hesitated. His brows rose when she didn’t answer immediately. She couldn’t recall what Morgan had told Felicia at the pool that day. Well, what difference did it make? Alan wouldn’t tell anyone what she said. She glanced at the ring on her hand. In the low light it sparkled with brilliance and beauty. “We’ve been married a week.” “Ah, so this is a honeymoon trip for you. The perfect place for it, too.” She smiled. “I’ve heard this is a popular spot for people to meet and fall in love.” “Definitely. I’ve seen it happen even with the most unlikely of couples.” Her curiosity piqued. “Really?” “Really. We had a couple several weeks ago that signed up for the same package you’re on and it turned out they weren’t even married. There were just friends, but then they fell in love.” She tripped over his foot and almost fell, but Alan righted her. “Whoa there.” “What were you saying about my dance skills earlier today?” she asked. He chuckled. Taking a deep breath, she said in her most disbelieving tone, “Are you saying you had someone playing at being a husband and wife so they could get a free trip?” “You got it.” “How did you find them out?” “His old girlfriend came along and started a fight with the faux bride.” Courtney swallowed hard. “Fight as in pulling hair and biting?” A corner of Alan’s mouth twitched up. “Actually the old girlfriend had quite a right cross.” Courtney winced. She envisioned Felicia coming onto the dance floor and delivering the old one-two knockout. “Ouch.” “I’ll say. It would have been kind of funny in a way, but then the bride’s old boyfriend showed up a day later and tried to abduct the bride when he found out she was so-called married.” “He abducted her? You’re kidding, right?” “Nope. He came in this restaurant, right up to the bride and groom’s table, and snatched her into his arms. He carried her off and the groom ran after them.” 62

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“Oh, my God. What happened then?” “The groom punched the old boyfriend’s lights out.” “What happened to the unlucky bride and groom?” “After they confessed their love to each other on Heart Hill, they married in our chapel.” Courtney laughed. Then she sobered slightly. “Did you make them pay for the room when you found out they weren’t honeymooners to start with?” He smiled. “I don’t think so. I mean, that would be bad publicity for the inn after everything that happened.” She finished her dance with Alan when he confided he needed to help with setup for the evening’s entertainment. She’d been about to head off the dance floor, when she heard a voice call her name. It sounded vaguely familiar. She turned and saw a man weaving his way through the crowd of people. Suddenly she wished she were the invisible woman. As the tall man came to a stop in front of her, a tiny burst of nostalgia traversed her spine. He wore an immaculate brown suit, his sense of style impeccable. His straight blond hair was cut shorter than she’d ever seen it, and she thought it made him look even more attractive. Green and intense, his striking eyes assessed her with the precise incision of a successful businessman. She had to take a deep breath before she could speak steadily and calmly. “Hello, Stan.” He smiled brightly, as if their parting months before hadn’t been filled with animosity. “Courtney, it’s good to see you.” He took her hand and kissed it, and she resisted the impulse to yank her hand away. She slowly disengaged her fingers from his grip. His smile widened as he scanned her up and down. Then his gaze rested on her left hand. Instantly she thought of the wedding ring, and she clasped her hands together. “What brings you to the Heart Inn?” she asked. “I needed a vacation. I’ve been working too hard these last few months. You?” “Same thing. Time to recharge.” “How did you hear about this place?” “My name was pulled out of a hat during a drawing. What about you?” “One of the guys at work told me about it. Said it was a great place to meet women.” He stared at her, his gaze traveling her body with familiarity. She hadn’t seen that look since the first time she’d met him. All those months ago, she’d been flattered and excited by his interest. Now she felt nothing. A special exhilaration sped through her blood. She was truly over Stan.

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A new song arrived on the airwaves, and she cringed inwardly. For months she’d refused to listen to this tune, for fear it would conjure up images of Stan. “How prophetic,” he said. “Our song. Shall we dance?” “It’s not our song anymore.” “For old time’s sake?” “I don’t know…” He reached for her hands. “Come on. Just this once.” Once she was in his arms, she studied his face surreptitiously, knowing from experience he hid his true emotions and motivations very well when it behooved him. “You know, I’ve had a lot of time to think, Courtney.” He hesitated then took a deep breath. “About how our relationship ended. Seeing you now reminded me of what I’ve been missing.” Uneasy, she pulled back from him slightly. His grip remained firm, and his hand holding hers shifted, increasing pressure on her fingers. “I think we ought to put that behind us, Stan. It’s all over.” “Are you sure it’s over? We had a good thing.” She shook her head firmly. “No, we didn’t. What we had was wrong for us, and now it’s time to move on.” His eyebrows drew into a glower she recognized as his standard face when he didn’t get his way. He drew her slightly closer, and she could smell his sandalwood cologne. Once the scent had thrilled her. Now she associated it with bad memories she’d fought so long to forget. Why, oh why did he have to turn up on her vacation? “I can see you’ve moved on. What has it been, Courtney? Four months since we broke up? And you’re married already?” Great. Wonderful. Terrific. He’d noticed the ring. Panic zipped through her veins. What should she tell him? Words were out of her mouth before she could take them back. “Morgan and I married last week.” His face pulled into a thunderous frown. “Morgan Lucas?” “Yes.” His lips grew tight with disapproval, as if she might be a small child who had broken a rule. “So it was true.” Apprehension bolted through her. “What?” His voice, when it came, was soft. “You had the hots for him all the time we were together.” “That’s ridiculous. We were just friends then, nothing more.” He gave her a hurt look, something that she’d never seen him do before. “I don’t believe you.”

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Exasperation rescued her from slipping into an old pattern of trying to placate him. “Personally, Stan, I don’t care whether you believe me or not.” Her assertiveness seemed to throw him off, for he said nothing. Why had she let herself get into this position with him? She cast a look Morgan’s way and saw that their table was empty. Surprised, she glanced around and spotted Morgan coming in her direction. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or alarmed. Within seconds Morgan arrived, putting his hand on Stan’s shoulder and scowling at the slightly shorter man. “Excuse me, but I think my wife is finished dancing with you.” Stan looked surprised by Morgan’s request, but he released her. Giving them a stare of contempt, Stan walked away without another word. Morgan instantly took Stan’s place, pulling her against him. He gathered her hand against his chest gently, cradling it with care. “You all right?” he asked gruffly. She nodded. “Yes. I was starting to feel like an anaconda’s evening meal.” His expression turned slightly accusatory. “Why did you dance with him?” She shrugged. “He took me by surprise showing up like that. All of a sudden he was just there.” “What’s the creep doing here?” “He said he is on vacation.” Morgan grunted. “Sounds fishy to me.” “Coincidences do happen.” “Humph. I’ll bet he was surprised to see me?” “Well…I’m not sure he was surprised exactly. He noticed my ring.” She wriggled her fingers. “And I told him we were married.” His brows drew together in concentration, but he said nothing. Courtney wondered how long Stan would remain at the hotel. If they made one false move, he would figure out they had faked the marriage. Especially if he saw Morgan flirting with Felicia, or Alan flirting with her. “I wonder why he wanted to dance with me in the first place?” she asked. “Open your eyes, Courtney. He probably took one look at this dress and he wanted to get you into bed.” When she didn’t speak, Morgan said, “That dress is like a magnet for every man in this room with a libido.” “For your information, I didn’t wear this dress to turn men on,” she said, the words mouthed slow and precise, as if she were instructing a dullard. “It’s ridiculous, anyway, to think Stan would still be interested in me.” He looked heavenward for a moment. “You’re completely unaware of the effect you can have on a man.” 65

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As they moved slowly to the music, she tried to imagine a more ridiculous situation. Here she was with her so-called husband who was really her friend, and her ex-fiancé had appeared out of nowhere. The fact Morgan had come to her rescue sent thrills through her. When he’d stalked up to her and Stan, he’d looked a little predatory and possessive. Wait a minute. Was Morgan trying to compliment her in some offhand way? To say that he, too, found her attractive? Nah. She’d lost it. That was it. Her brain was fried in the sun today and the resultant gray matter damage had removed every ounce of common sense she possessed. His expression relaxed as he gazed down on her, and then his eyes sparkled like a little boy’s. “You really need someone to show you the ropes. I can’t believe how innocent you are.” “I’m not a child, Morgan. But for some reason you persist in thinking I am.” “Don’t be silly.” She gave him a mock glare then smiled. “See what I mean? You’re calling me silly. Like you did when we were kids and had a fight.” “I believe in calling a spade a spade.” “And I suppose you think a lug like you could show me the ropes?” “You’re damned right,” he said softly. Challenge. She couldn’t back away from a direct dare like this one. “What did you have in mind, Morg?” The use of his hated nickname apparently spurred him toward revenge. He tucked her even closer to him, his big palm low on her back. His gaze burned into her, sending a jolt of unexpected excitement through her. He lowered his head until he she could feel his breath on her lips. “If you play dangerous games, Squirt, you have to live with the consequences.” The look in his eyes told her all she needed to know about what punishment he had in mind. Before she could take a breath his lips settled on hers.

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Chapter Nine As soon as Morgan’s lips touched Courtney’s, he wasted no time with restraint. In front of anyone who cared to watch, he brought her into direct contact with his chest, his hips, his thighs, and every inch in between. His arms tightened around her waist. She clung to the lapels of his suit jacket, then slid her hands upward until she could lace her arms about his neck. Nothing had ever felt as good, no kiss had ever set her alight the way Morgan’s did. His tongue traced her lips, and she wanted him inside, tasting her freely. As if he read her mind, he thrust his tongue deep, flicking against her tongue with warm strokes that played a heady, erotic dance. The hot warmth in her stomach spread downward and pooled between her legs. Repeatedly his tongue brushed against hers, mimicking sex in a blatant message she couldn’t ignore. She sunk into the heady sensations his kiss aroused. Her breasts ached against his strong chest, and a full-blown erection pressed her stomach. Oh, my. Any doubt she had that Morgan found her attractive disappeared like smoke in the wind. His hands palmed her back, caressing. One hand rested intimately right above her butt, and she wanted him to explore lower. Wildfire desire encompassed her so thoroughly she felt giddy with delight, on the edge of finding something so precious and beautiful. She trembled as his arms tightened protectively. Suddenly, as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over his head, he released her. His hands slid to her waist and he held her away so their bodies no longer touched. “I think we’ve given the crowd a good enough performance,” he said, looking dazed. He took her hand and led her from the dance floor. Although no one seemed to take much notice of them, she knew Morgan was right. Mauling each other in public hadn’t been the most polite thing to do. For her, though, the knowledge that they’d displayed affection…their sudden hunger in front of everyone felt exciting. Forbidden. Damn it, she’d liked it. No, like was too mild a word. How about loved it? As they returned to the table, the silence irritated her. Silence meant she had to dissect what had just happened. “Thank you,” she said. He gazed at her speculatively, his head tilted slightly to the side. Worried he might think she meant for the kiss, she hastened to explain. “For getting me away from Stan. I really do appreciate it.” His lips drew into a grim line. “When he kept pulling you against him, I couldn’t stand it any longer.”

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She contemplated the meaning behind his words. Whether he acknowledged the truth or not, he was acting like a very jealous husband. A small grin twitched at the corners of his lips. “This could get real complicated real quick.” She didn’t know if he meant that Stan’s presence convoluted the situation, or whether the kiss had tangled things. Morgan watched her, his dark eyes penetrating her barriers. “We’ll go about our business like he never turned up. Like nothing happened tonight.” Unwilling to admit even to herself that Morgan’s kiss had made her giddy, she tried to draw a modicum of logic into her flustered brain. “Like nothing ever happened tonight.” His eyes grew lambent, warm. “You sound so solemn.” “I don’t want this playacting to ruin our friendship.” “How could it ruin it?” Admitting she might have more than brotherly feelings for him terrified her, so she said, “When our vacation is over, I don’t want one of us to have the wrong idea about…how we feel about each other.” “I can keep my feelings detached. After all, we’re just friends.” Just friends. The words should have reassured her. Instead they left a hollow within her. They stayed uncharacteristically silent during the rest of dinner. Courtney took note that Felicia had joined Alan at a table and didn’t even look their way. Excellent. Maybe they’d get together. They certainly deserved each other. Courtney ate her dinner, but she barely tasted the quiche. After the explosive nature of their kiss, Courtney found she couldn’t think of anything else. Uncertain as to why she was so rattled, she ruminated on a cause. Morgan’s kisses had surprised her and that was the only reason she’d been thrown for a loop. Yeah. Right. As she fiddled with her food, she recognized the folly in that theory. Surprise didn’t make your heart pound long after the shock wore off. Surprise didn’t make your skin tingle with heightened awareness, the scent of your friend’s cologne tease your nose with delicious commotion. Surprise didn’t make your body sing with exhilaration as your friend gave you the most bone-melting, exquisite kiss you’d ever received in your life. When she’d been in Morgan’s arms she’d forgotten about the world around her, unconscious of what others might think of their passionate display. That had never happened to her before. She was in big trouble with a capital T.

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She couldn’t say her attraction to Morgan qualified as that of a platonic friend. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at him. He gazed at her as if he could read her mind and knew all the hot, unbidden notions dancing through her head. “Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, his voice husky. She carefully schooled her expression into nonchalance. “Felicia and Alan make a good couple. They’re on the dance floor right now.” Morgan glanced their way and let out a scornful snort. “If he knows what’s good for him he’ll keep a close watch on his wallet. Felicia knows how to bag and tag ‘em.” “Are you saying she’s a pickpocket?” He smiled. “Not exactly in the conventional fashion. She does know how to get in a man’s back pocket, though. She’s bold, beautiful, and knows what she wants. That includes getting a man to spend lots of money on her.” Unwilling to let him get away without explaining, she put down her fork and pushed her plate away. “How do you know so much about her?” His mouth opened, closed. After several seconds of silence, she realized he didn’t plan to answer. “Why can’t you tell me?” She remembered Felicia’s references to the conference he’d attended. “Is it something to do with the conference?” He nodded. “I met her there.” “Is she the one who gave you the nickname Morg?” Reluctance written on his face, he nodded. “Yeah. She’s the type of woman who tells people what she’s going to call them. She’s bold, like I said.” He smiled. “Like you.” “Like me?” She frowned. He laughed. “In a sense.” She gaped at him. “So first you tell me I’m innocent and now you tell me I’m like Felicia. Which is it?” He winced. “I don’t mean you’re exactly like Felicia. I mean that she’s an opportunist. She grabs what she wants energetically and without regret.” “And you think I’m an opportunist?” A million emotions flickered over his face in the few seconds before he answered. “Opportunist is a harsh word. You used to jump into life with everything you had. I was always amazed at the gusto you brought to what you did. It didn’t matter what it was, you had perfect control and when you wanted something you’d hold on with both hands and wouldn’t let go. I admired that.” Admired. Once upon a time she used to be in control. His words reminded her that even though she’d been away from Stan for months, the lingering effects of losing herself remained.

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A part of her was gratified Morgan was so perceptive. Another part of her hated the vulnerability, the feeling of exposure. She was trying, damn it. It took time to get one’s soul back after someone stole it. Couldn’t he see that? Before she could say anything, a warbling wail started up at the front of the restaurant. Grimacing at the hideous sound, she turned in her seat and noticed that they’d fired up the karaoke machine. Someone attempted to sing. “Attempt” was the operative word. Felicia strove to belt out a love song. Courtney thought she’d heard better noises coming from a mule. She turned back to look at Morgan and found him grinning. He winked at her. “Oh, boy.” “Yeah, oh, boy. I think this deserves a drink.” “A very large drink.” After they procured drinks, they watched Felicia complete her rendition of a tune Courtney didn’t know. Then again, it was entirely possible Felicia’s talent obliterated all possibility of identifying the melody. Shortly thereafter Alan took the stage and sang. “He is good,” Courtney said. Morgan shrugged. “Not bad.” After Alan left the stage and another singer took his place, Courtney said, “I think you should try.” His eyes widened and he put both hands up. “Oh, no. You’re not getting me up there.” “Come on, you know you can sing.” “I cannot.” “You can.” Two shadows fell on their table. Alan and Felicia stood side by side, their bright smiles dazzling. “Come on, Morg. We want to hear you sing,” Felicia said. “No way,” he said. Alan’s grin widened. “I never took you for the type of guy to refuse a challenge.” Courtney knew Alan had said the right thing. Morgan’s expression changed from a man who didn’t care to very determined. He nodded and his gaze settled onto Courtney. “I think in order for me to take the challenge, there’s got to be a prize involved.” Felicia batted her eyelashes. “A dance with me?” Morgan switched his gaze to Felicia. “You’re on.” As he got up and headed for the stage, Courtney saw Felicia lick her lips like a predator anticipating a tasty snack. “Let’s take a seat,” Alan said to Felicia and moved back to his table.

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As the MC announced Morgan, Courtney recalled a time in high school he’d been goaded into singing on stage for a play. He’d been good. Not fantastic, not wonderful, but he could hold a tune and harmonize. His natural modesty always precluded him from displaying his talent. “Before I get started I’d like to dedicate this song,” Morgan said. Courtney looked at Felicia, who preened like a peacock. “This is for my beautiful wife, Courtney,” Morgan said. People turned to gaze at Courtney as Morgan gestured toward her with a smile. Her breath ceased. But he wasn’t finished. “Thank you, sweetheart, for being my best friend.” The large crowd in the restaurant clapped, their voices raised enthusiastically. Courtney was so stunned she couldn’t even smile. Then she righted her equilibrium and reminded herself Morgan was playing it up. Remember, Courtney, Morgan didn’t mean what he just said. She broke out in an appropriately beaming smile. Morgan selected a song on the machine, and as the music began, she recognized the popular love ballad. Her favorite song, in fact. As his voice rose, mixing seamlessly with the instruments, she felt an intense warming somewhere in the region of her heart. Gone was the boy in high school. Gone was the not quite mature voice. Now his voice held a rich, full tone. The deep, husky sound, combined with the fact he looked directly at her, filled her with a sweet sense of contentment. As he sang of love and everlasting passion, his attention made her feel special. She let his words transport her into a world where everything he sang was true. She imagined his kisses changing from platonic sweetness into the soul-searching, explosive passion he’d given her earlier. No. It wasn’t possible. He’d kissed her because she’d challenged him and he thought she was naïve. He’d wanted to prove her innocence. Tremendous applause broke out as he finished the song, and she almost called for an encore along with others in the audience. When she saw Felicia making her way toward the stage, she stopped clapping. What did the pain in the ass woman have up her sleeve now? Morgan leaned down to listen to Felicia as she whispered in his ear. Courtney felt that little green monster rise again as Morgan smiled and nodded. Felicia stepped onto the stage and they selected another song. Inconceivable. Felicia planned to sing again. As soon as the song started, Courtney expected Morgan to leave the stage. He stayed, and Felicia and Morgan blended their voices together. A lusty love song, it gave Felicia every opportunity to practically drape herself over Morgan. Instantly the pleasant glow that had surrounded Courtney fled. Disgusted with the tingles of jealousy pumping through her, and a sudden silly desire to cry, she retrieved her handbag and left the room.

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***** Morgan trudged up the staircase to the third floor, figuring the exercise would exorcise the tumultuous emotions zinging through him like lightning. He was angry with himself more than anything. Angry because he’d let things go so far. He glanced at his watch. It was late, very late, and he knew he was a coward. He’d watched Courtney leave the restaurant and had continued to sing, even though the sight of her retreating from the room had distracted him significantly. He couldn’t imagine why she left, and the thought that something might have upset her, or more likely, someone, almost sent him off the stage in mid-song. After the song, he’d almost gone in search of her, but his emotions felt too unpredictable at that moment. He’d sat at the table he had shared with Courtney and contemplated what to do next. This vacation wasn’t the piece of cake he’d expected. The last two days had been nothing but a roller coaster of emotions, foremost among them enjoyment and… What? He didn’t know anymore what he felt. Tonight he’d given in and let his admiration for her gather strength. When he’d held her in his arms and told her she was innocent and didn’t understand that a man like Stan would try and take advantage of her, he wondered if he was talking about himself. Ever since she’d asked him to play house he’d struggled with a rising tide of mental and physical feelings he shouldn’t have for her. Those feelings had coalesced tonight when he’d seen Courtney in Stan’s arms. He’d almost done something damned stupid. Like punching Stan’s lights out right there on the dance floor. When Morgan had danced with Courtney he’d battled an intense desire to whisper erotic, loving things into her ear. Like how he wanted to take her upstairs and kiss her, touch her…feel himself sink deep into her satin softness. Just thinking about it had almost made him choke on the whiskey he’d been drinking. He, Morgan Lucas, admitted he wanted to make hot, passionate love to his best friend, Courtney Devons. Ah, hell. Shortly after he’d finished the whiskey, the MC had announced that Morgan had won the first prize in the singing contest, and Alan had won second. Felicia asked where Courtney had gone, and Morgan said that she had a headache. Now, as he walked down the hall to their room, he wore the silly ribbon around his neck. He hastily pulled it over his head, tempted to toss it in the trash. As he reached the door to their room and inserted the card key into the lock, he half hoped she’d already be asleep. He didn’t know if he wanted to confront her. As he came in the room, he left the light off, but he could see she was in bed. He tiptoed around the room, and eventually he sank down on the love seat and struggled to find a comfortable position for the night.

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Time ticked by like molasses, and his thoughts turned to what he would do on the rest of this vacation. How would he keep his feelings for Courtney from showing? Willpower, damn it. You’ve got willpower. Unfortunately, as he slipped into dreams that night, his visions filled with Courtney. Courtney smiling at him as they danced. The feel of her soft skin as he held her close. The erotic dance of her tongue against his. He woke up, barely holding back a groan as his groin tightened with arousal. Rolling over, he punched his pillow and gritted his teeth. It was going to be one hell of a long night.

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Chapter Ten Morning burst through Courtney’s cocoon of sleep as she heard the door of the hotel room open and the sound of voices. Reluctantly, she peeled one eye open and looked about the room. Morgan rolled a breakfast cart into the room, and the aroma of food wafted to her nose and cleared morning fog from her brain. But with that awakening came the memory of everything that happened last night. Up to and including Morgan’s duet with Felicia. She’d fallen asleep quickly last night despite her brain moving in high gear and her emotions in turmoil. When she spied Morgan clad in nothing but jeans, it reminded her the attraction she’d felt for him last night hadn’t diminished. As she let her gaze land on the impressive display of muscles rippling in his back and arms, she sighed. Keep the libido in check. Her friendship with Morgan tottered on the line. If she let her feelings go too far, she’d damage their friendship beyond repair. Incidents like the kiss between them last night couldn’t happen again. Slowly she sat up in bed. “Morning,” he mumbled, not sounding entirely awake himself. He put the salvers on the table. “Want breakfast?” She let her gaze linger on his chest for longer than she meant to, and by that time he had a quizzical expression on his face. “Sure.” Yawning, she crawled out of bed, grateful for the super-sized T-shirt covering her to her knees. He lifted the lid of a tray and discovered Belgian waffles, and on another tray, he found strawberries and a container with whipped cream. “Now this is breakfast.” Glad he was smiling, she grinned, too. “It looks wonderful.” They ate in silence for some time before she looked at him again. She wanted to wipe away the grim set to his mouth. Swallowing some pride she said, “I’m sorry about last night.” He looked wary. “For what?” “For leaving while you were singing.” “Why did you leave?” She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. What could she say? She couldn’t admit jealousy had driven her away. “I had a headache. Too much loud music.” He leaned his arms on the table. “Are you sure that’s all it was?” “Yes.”

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As he gazed at her with something like disbelief, he leaned back in his chair. He pushed a hand through his hair, mussing it. When he said nothing, she pushed onward. “There’s one thing I’d like to get straight between us.” Gazing at her curiously he said, “Go on.” Instead of telling him right away, she scooted her chair back, scooped up a strawberry and began to eat it as she paced the floor. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep up this charade. I’d like to set some ground rules.” His eyes narrowed. “What kind of rules?” “I think we should work on keeping our relationship…what it was before we came here. Feel free to go our separate ways on this vacation. Have fun. See other people while we’re here.” She took a deep breath, hoping to get control of the sudden hollow feeling that dropped directly into her stomach. He nodded. “You’re right.” She took a long, slow breath. “Good. I’m glad we’ve got that straight.” He looked down at his plate. “Me, too. But there’s something I want to understand. Stan appearing has sort of complicated things. We want to go our own way and see other people but if we don’t act married, Stan will know you were lying.” She hated the annoying reality of his words. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks, but he might make a little trouble if he thinks we aren’t married.” He shrugged. “We can’t have it both ways. If we see other people, then we won’t look married, that’s for certain.” Exasperated, she said, “I think we can do both. We’ll just need to keep an eye out for Stan, especially when we’re together.” Morgan nodded, but she saw doubt in his eyes. “If you stay clear of Ken…Alan, you won’t tip off Stan in the first place. Just stay clear of Joe Jockstrap.” She thought she saw a glimmer of anger replace the doubt in his gaze. “Unless, of course, you want to get back with Stan.” Irritation spiked within her and she spoke without thinking. “Why you—you know, you’re just like Stan. He was into telling me how things were going to be and who and what I was going to be. And you know, even if I did want to go back to Stan, it wouldn’t be any of your business.” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’m nothing like Stan. Don’t compare us.” “But that’s how you’re acting. Controlling. You want to tell me what I can do and when I can do it. I thought you knew me better than that. I thought you realized how I felt about manipulation. Instead you’re telling me what I can do and assuming I’ll make the same mistakes again with Stan.” She began to pace, her annoyance growing. “What makes you think you have the right to tell me not to flirt with Ken—I mean Alan? You were flirting heavily with Felicia last night when you were singing the duet. Why is it 75

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okay for you to do that, but not for me to flirt with Alan?” She was on a roll and couldn’t stop. She halted a few feet away from him. When he remained silent, her frustration sharpened. She did the only thing she could think of to retaliate. She tossed a strawberry at him, loaded with whipped cream. It hit him square on the nose and left a blob of cream before it bounced onto the floor. “Why you little—” Morgan said as he stood. He scooped up a handful of whipped cream and came toward her. “You’ve been asking for this for two days.” She backpedaled, but not fast enough to avoid his revenge as he promptly plopped the cream onto the top of her head. “Oooo! You brat!” She reached for the bowl of cream and scooped another handful before he could pull her away. She flung the white stuff and it splattered onto his face. She scurried away, but he moved too quickly. He smeared cream onto her nose and over her lips. “Take that!” She stepped away and bumped into a chair. She would have fallen straight on her butt, but he reached for her, one strong arm looping around her waist. Her sticky hands landed against his bare chest, and her breath caught. Automatically her fingers contracted, feeling the hard contours of his pectorals. As her hands slipped to his shoulders, her fingers left a trail of sticky goo. He stared at her in the most unusual way, his face smeared with white stuff. She laughed. “Don’t laugh,” he said softly, failing to stop a smile from forming on his lips. “If you laugh, there will be consequences.” “That’s what you get for calling me silly last night, and for…for…” “Yeah?” “For everything.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he laughed, and her heart did a flip. “Oh, I’m really scared.” “You should be. Now let me go.” His smiled faded into a hot, lingering look. “Maybe I don’t want to.” “Of course you do,” she said, starting to feel a little dizzy. “Not until I apologize properly.” This threw her completely off track. “Apologize?” He lowered his voice. “For calling you silly last night, Squirt.” He reached up to cup her face. “However, you are sticky, sassy, and definitely a pain in the butt.” Surprise and warmth stole around her as well as the desire to throw more strawberries. An eternity passed as he stared into her eyes, and the tension grew and stretched. Despite the warning bells ringing in her head, she couldn’t stop caring, couldn’t stop the developing urgency to hold him close.

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He tapped her gently on the nose with his index finger. “You ought to see what you look like.” “I’m a mess. Ugly as sin,” she said. “Not half as ugly as I am.” “You’re right. You’re horrid.” “A perfect troglodyte.” She laughed and shrugged. “But I like you anyway.” Instead of releasing her, he smiled. She fell into his eyes. God, they were beautiful eyes. She should pull away and jump straight into the shower. A very cold shower. He reached up to touch her face, managing to spread more whipped cream on her cheek. “Damn. Guess I’ll need to get that cream off another way.” Slowly his lips descended, and the kiss on her cheek effectively removed the cream. He pulled back, and their noses bumped. “You’ve got cream on your lips.” “I need help getting it off,” she whispered. His mouth descended on hers, and her lips tingled as he licked the cream away. “Mmmm,” he said, his voice raw and husky. “Much better. I think we should eat dessert like this all the time.” Before she could respond, his lips captured hers. Tendrils of desire did a slow, exquisite roll through her stomach. She shut out the part of her mind that said she walked a tightrope without a net. Morgan tasted far too good to resist. Abandoning any idea of releasing him, she twined her arms around his neck and plunged her hands into his hair. His lips stayed tender upon hers, melting any traces of opposition. So gentle. No man had ever treated her so delicately, with such reverence. Like she might be porcelain and would break in his embrace. Necessity grabbed her like a whirling storm, demanding that she take another step. She heard a soft moan and realized it was her. He plunged a hand into her hair, angling his mouth to increase the intimacy of their kiss, pushing his tongue deep within her mouth. Pleasure darted within the most feminine recesses of her body. The world around her ceased to exist as everything centered on how she felt as he kissed her with a fierce passion that rivaled their previous embrace. Everywhere she ached with need. Her breasts ached against the hard wall of his chest, and deep within her a craving rose. Soul-searing kisses were no longer enough. His hands lingered along her waist, then brought her hips closer. He reached to cup one cheek of her bottom, pressing her against his hips. At the unmistakable feel of his arousal, she gasped into his mouth, and he took advantage by kissing her with fierce hunger.

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A few moments more and he’d be…they’d be…making love. She’d be making love to a friend. Suddenly she yanked away, and reality returned with a viscous slam. He stepped back, his accelerated breathing and the slight flush in his cheeks proving his excitement. His hair was a tousled mess mixed with whipped cream and stuck up in all directions. With whipped cream in his eyebrows, on his forehead, and all over his chest, he looked like he’d escaped from a bad food fight. But he was an endearing, incredibly sexy mess. And what a food fight it had been. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his voice soft, deep. Around the edges, deep in his eyes, passion lingered. Shocked by the force of what had happened, she remained speechless. “I’d better take a shower and get rid of this…” He gestured helplessly. “Yes.” He turned and left the room, closing the bathroom door behind him. Sitting on the bed, she looked at the sticky mess on her hands. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this strange, this amazed at her own idiocy. What if she hadn’t pulled away from him? What would have happened? The phone rang, jarring her. It was Felicia. “Courtney, I hope I’m not calling too early,” she said, her voice on the syrupy side. Courtney glanced at the clock. It was 9:00 a.m. “Not at all. What can I do for you?” “Is Morgan available?” Courtney felt the suspicious bone or two in her body begin to twinge. “He’s in the shower.” “Goodness, you guys aren’t up and about yet?” “It’s called vacation. It means sleeping in as long as you want.” She sweetened her voice, hoping it was as sugary as Felicia’s tone. “It means not even getting out of bed if you don’t want to.” Felicia laughed. “Well, if you can leave him a message and have him call me back, I’d really appreciate it. It’s important I talk to him as soon as possible.” Courtney almost asked, in the way most wives might, why Felicia was calling him. But she wasn’t his wife. After she took the message and hung up the phone, she stared at nothing in particular for several moments. Time to do some serious thinking. She reached for the phone.

*****

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Morgan concentrated on his heart beating a rapid tattoo and the thump of his feet as he jogged along the indoor track in the hotel fitness center. Desperately he hoped the endorphins would kick in soon. “How’s it goin’, Morgan?” the white-haired, spare gentleman who jogged next to him asked. Morgan glanced over at the shorter man and grinned. “Great,” he gasped. Jim Woodwill, sixty-five, wasn’t sagging or dragging yet. In fact, Morgan had the distinctly uncomfortable feeling Jim could run another two miles. Jim had struck up a conversation with Morgan at the juice bar, and had invited himself to jog with Morgan. But Morgan didn’t mind the company. Anything to keep his mind off what had almost happened between him and Courtney that morning. He gritted his teeth and increased the speed of his jog until it turned into a run. Three miles. Maybe he’d go four, then pump some iron, then ride the exercise bike. “We can always stop for a rest before hitting the weight machines,” Jim said, pushing until he came even with Morgan’s pace. “Huh,” Morgan grunted, saving his breath. “What?” “Uh, I said I’d better keep going.” Morgan hated to admit it, but he couldn’t let this older man show him up after the fiasco with Alan’s aerobics class. “Want to go four miles?” Jim asked. “Hell, no.” “What?” “I said, hell yes!” Jim grinned. “That’s the spirit. Why, when I was your age, I—” “Walked…ten miles…to school…one way.” Morgan drew in precious breaths of oxygen and felt his abused lungs strain. Jim chuckled. “Actually, my mother drove me to school.” “Lucky bastard,” Morgan said, grinning. “I walked…two miles…to school.” Jim laughed again, his pleasant, narrow face a study in good humor. After they rounded the track for the umpteenth time, Jim asked, “So you been up to Heart Hill yet?” “No. But I’ve heard of it.” “You must go there. Even an old man like me might find romance at a place like that.” Romance.

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He didn’t want to think about romance with Courtney. It was dangerous territory. Nope, when he finished running he would hit the shower. But not the shower in the hotel room. He didn’t want to go back there yet in case Courtney was there. Coward. He was a freaking coward for being afraid to go back to the room and face the consequences of the mind-blowing, out of this world kiss they’d shared this morning. The attraction he felt for her had turned from humming in the background into impossible to ignore. Attraction. The word stabbed his mind, reminding him of those moments when he’d stood in the shower, washing away the whipped cream and wishing he’d stayed in her arms. Or, better yet, that she’d taken the shower with him. “Something on your mind?” Jim asked suddenly. “Not a thing. My mind is a complete blank.” “Right. And I’m Attila the Hun. I read faces like I read books. And I can read between the lines, too. What’s eating at you?” Morgan glanced at Jim, half tempted to tell him to mind his own business. But something about the old man’s honesty, and his friendly face compelled Morgan to talk. “My honeymoon isn’t turning out as I expected.” “How so?” “An old boyfriend of my wife’s showed up at the resort.” “Ouch.” “Yeah. Ouch.” “And this guy is a real jerk, I take it?” “You hit the nail on the head.” “Your wife doesn’t still have feelings for him?” “No. Not at all,” Morgan said, not entirely certain. Morgan worried about her. He wanted that special glow that once surrounded her to return. He hated that she’d spent months wasting her life on a man who didn’t love her. “How long ago did she stop seeing this guy?” Jim asked. “Several months ago.” “So you’ve only known each other a few months?” “We’ve known each other for years. We’re good friends. I mean we were good friends.” “Were?” “I mean we were friends first before we became…more.” “Uh-huh.”

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A terrifying thought came to Morgan’s mind. What if he lost Courtney’s friendship because his libido had suddenly flipped into hyperdrive? What if he lost Courtney’s friendship because he hadn’t learned his lesson the first time with Claudia? He was such an idiot when it came to relationships with women. He had to learn to say what he meant. Why couldn’t he come out and tell Courtney what he felt? You’re a dunce, Lucas. When it comes to explaining what you feel, and what you want, you’re a total klutz. Besides, isn’t that the way Courtney’s always going to see you? The awkward boy at seventeen? Jim increased the pace of his jog, and Morgan punished his lungs to keep up. “So you didn’t meet Courtney here at the Heart Inn. I figured you were like most of the other newlyweds here.” Morgan gave a half-hearted laugh with the minimal oxygen he could suck in. “You mean those people who meet here, fall in love, and get married all in a week? These people are falling in lust.” “I wouldn’t be too sure. There’s a special magic about this place. My late wife Mary and I met and married here.” “And this was in a week?” “Well…no…” “Aha! I knew it couldn’t always work that way.” “We married within a month of meeting. Had thirty-nine years of wedded bliss.” Jim laughed. “In fact, that’s why I’m here now. To hunt for another bride. My granddaughter told me I was getting old and stuffy. So I’m hoping I’ll meet some young thing to light a fire under me.” Morgan had to smile. “You seem pretty damned young to me. In fact…” He slowed his jog into a walk and Jim followed suit. “You’ve whipped my butt.” Jim slapped him on the back. “I usually jog five miles a day.” Morgan winced. Not only did he feel old as Methuselah, but he was taking love advice from an older man who was hunting for young babes. “So you actually think you’re going to meet a new candidate for a wife here?” Jim shrugged. “Anything’s possible. This is the Heart Inn. Miracles happen. I met Mary at the top of Heart Hill. I’d decided to take a hike up there by the old trail, and when I got to the top she was there. The rest is history.” Morgan thought about what Jim had said as he went back to his room. When he got back to the room and discovered a note from Courtney on the bed. Morgan, Went on a hike to Heart Hill. Courtney. He crumpled the note in his fist. Who was she going to Heart Hill with?

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Chapter Eleven “It’s beautiful,” Courtney said, taking the hill in front of her with sure strides, the exertion of the walk and the loveliness of the area invigorating her senses. The sun streamed through the trees, warming the late morning air. Geared up in a baseball cap, sunglasses, polo shirt, jeans and hiking boots, Courtney felt ready for anything. She’d smeared on a healthy amount of sunscreen, and she half wished she’d put on shorts. Edna smiled as she trudged along beside Courtney, spry and not even winded. “Told you it was a great place.” Courtney learned through Edna that the serpentine hillside trail was specially built by the community that had grown up around the resort. Hacked out of the side of the mountain by volunteers, it was wide enough for two people to walk side by side. It wound through the area in strategic spots to give maximum views of the countryside. Courtney smiled at the older woman. “I don’t know about you, but I need a break. I’m about to die of heat exhaustion.” They found a wide spot in the trail and sat on the ground. Along with a supply of water, they’d brought a picnic lunch ordered from the hotel kitchen. “You are amazing. You are in such good shape,” Courtney said after she took a deep swig of water. Edna reached for a granola bar. “Sugar, I spent a lot time in my youth climbing mountains like these in Montana. Enjoyed every minute of it.” “Morgan and I used to do a lot of hiking.” “Used to?” Courtney saw the speculative gleam in Edna’s eyes and wished she’d kept her mouth closed. While they’d hiked she’d tried to forget this morning and the last couple of days. It didn’t work. Walking on the mountain reminded her of better times. Times when she knew the boundaries of her relationship with Morgan, and exciting thoughts of becoming his lover had never crossed her mind. She reached in the backpack for her granola bar. “When we were teens we used to go hiking.” “And you don’t now?” “We haven’t hiked for years. Life got in the way. When we were in high school reality didn’t intrude. It was easier to pack up on the weekend and take off.” “So reality is stopping you now?” Uh-oh. Edna was getting that fix Courtney’s love life look in her eyes. “We have too much to do. Too many responsibilities.”

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“Too busy to spend time with your husband? Now that doesn’t make any sense.” If Edna hadn’t been such a kind woman, Courtney might have taken offense at the unsolicited advice. The truth in the older woman’s words stifled Courtney’s indignation. “Being a small business owner is a lot of work,” Courtney said. Edna pursed her lips. “I’m surprised you had time to date and marry, let alone honeymoon.” Courtney smiled. If she only knew. “Marriages take nurturing.” Edna stood and stretched. “I should know. My husband was one of those scientific types, you know. No social skills and absolutely a bore at parties.” Courtney chuckled. “Well, Morgan isn’t exactly a scientific type. In fact, he’s an intriguing combo. He’s very smart, and he could have been a scientific type if he wanted. But he chose to go the opposite route. He’s a dreamer.” “And you’re not?” She shook her head. “Not really. He’s the optimist. I’m the pessimist.” She swatted at a bug that landed on her leg. “He has this incredible gift for seeing the big picture. He calls it seeing outside of the box. He used to sit on a trail when we were taking a rest, just like now, and spin these fantastic fairy tales. He’d make them up right on the spot. It was fascinating. Part of the fun of going on a hike with him was knowing he’d weave a story for me.” Tears stung Courtney’s eyes, and it took her by surprise. Drawing a deep breath to hold back the tears, she continued. “He could have been a writer, too, if he wanted. He has such a vivid imagination and the drive to complete projects.” Edna squatted down next to Courtney. “He sounds like a fabulous man. Why on Earth isn’t he out here with you now?” Courtney opened her mouth but couldn’t think of anything to say that wasn’t a lie. So she spoke the truth. “We’re…we had a bit of a fight.” Edna put her arm around her shoulders and squeezed lightly. “Oh, you poor thing. I wondered why you looked as if someone had kicked your puppy. It wasn’t over that Felicia Glover, I hope?” Sniffling slightly and searching for a tissue in the backpack, Courtney said, “Partially. That and his opinion of an old boyfriend of mine.” “Goodness. Why would he care about an old boyfriend of yours when he’s got you as his wife now?” “He thinks that knowing this man changed me too much. I’m different than I used to be.” “What do you think?” “I’ve changed.” Courtney’s thoughts had centered on what Morgan had said, and the fresh air and exercise had clarified her thoughts. “But I’m coming around slowly. Getting back to the old Courtney. I want to forget the bad times and start new.” 83

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She realized, in a sense, that she didn’t really want something new. She wanted the old times back before Stan had entered her life. Now, if only her friendship with Morgan could return to comfortable, enjoyable and platonic. Uncomplicated. Edna patted her on the shoulder. “You’ll never be exactly the same. Everything we experience in life changes us in subtle ways, for better or worse. It’s a part of our maturity. A part of who were are.” “And the older we get, the more layers we have.” Edna laughed. “Exactly, honey.” She patted the extra ten pounds around her own hips. “I’ve got more layers than I’ll ever need.” Courtney smiled, but then instantly sobered. “Your husband still loved you, even when you changed over the years? Physically and mentally?” “Heavens, yes. Love isn’t a static thing, or it’s not really love. People think the blush of first attraction is love. But when it comes right down to it, real love is the stuff that weathers tough times as well as good. It’s the kind that never wears away.” Courtney knew Edna spoke the truth, and the truth removed a little of the burden away from her heart. She drew in a cleansing breath of fresh mountain air, and enjoyed the brilliant light and peace of outdoors. “You’re a treasure, Edna. I’m glad I met you.” Edna groaned. “I don’t know about that, but I know I’m getting too old to squat like this. Shall we walk on? We can talk more as we go.” As they moved up the trail they discussed life and love and Courtney came to admire Edna. She might have seemed eccentric at first, but her intelligence and sense of humor outweighed every quirk. As they crested a steep hill, Courtney felt a featherlight brush on the back of her left arm. Bugs. “Ugh!” “Don’t—“ Edna said suddenly. Courtney shooed at the pesky creature. “Ouch!” she gasped as a sharp, powerful sting of pain punctured her arm. She hooked her foot underneath a tree root that had grown into the side of the path. “Whoa!” As she fell forward, her ankle twisted and pain sliced through it. She landed flat on her face. She bit back curses. Unfortunately having the wind knocked out of her prevented any noise other than a slight squeak. Edna immediately dropped to her knees next to Courtney, her face alarmed. “Are you all right, Sugar?” Courtney nodded as she rolled into sitting position and sucked in a deep breath. She cursed a blue streak until Edna raised her eyebrows. “Sorry.” “Never mind being sorry, did you hurt yourself?”

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Courtney’s left ankle throbbed, and she rotated it slowly. “I think I twisted my ankle, but it’s not too bad.” “Better take that shoe off so we can take a look at it.” As Courtney unlaced her hiking boot, Edna looked at Courtney’s arm. “You swatted a bee.” “Damn.” “Well, it doesn’t look like it left a stinger.” Another twinge of pain from the back of her arm. “Great, just great.” Edna released her arm and removed her own backpack. She retrieved a small first aid kit from the pack. “You ever been stung by a bee before?” Courtney sighed. “No. First time.” Edna shook her head. “Sweet thing, you sure know how to have a honeymoon.”

***** “What’s the matter, Morg?” Felicia asked as she put her juice down on the poolside bar in front of her. Morgan shifted in his chair. He didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to sit amiably with Felicia sipping water and chatting like old chums. She leaned forward slightly so he could see down her generous cleavage, and he tried not to stare at her outrageous dress. It was an intriguing dress…if you were partial to tiger print. In fact, Morgan found her boring. At the conference he thought her intriguing, quirky and sexy. Thinking back to that time, he wondered, other than pure male hormones, what had compelled him to think her attractive. She was too brassy, too artificial for him. He preferred the soft, natural look of… Courtney. “Hey, are you listening to me?” Felicia asked, looking indignant. “I’m listening.” Felicia sniffed. “Right. So why aren’t you with your new wife?” Turning a disgruntled gaze on her, he said, “She went hiking. Besides, you called me and wanted to have lunch, didn’t you?” “Yeah, but isn’t that kind of strange? I mean she went hiking without you? On your honeymoon?” “We have a special relationship. I go my way and she goes hers.” She lifted one tawny eyebrow. “I see. One of those arrangements.” “Yeah. One of those.” He drank his mineral water slowly. She looked at his hand. “Forget your wedding ring?”

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He looked at the white section around his finger. Sure enough, he’d forgotten to wear his ring. “Felicia, you have this uncanny ability to state the obvious.” “Morg—” “My name is Morgan.” “It sure got your wife riled up, didn’t it?” “What?” “When I called you Morg.” He sighed again. “Well, if I was your husband and some woman came up and started flirting and called me a nickname, wouldn’t you wonder what the hell was going on?” When he put his water glass down she reached out and touched his hand. “Sure.” Morgan pulled his hand out from under hers. Across the pool he spotted Stan settling into a lounge chair. “I didn’t come here to take up where we left off at the conference, Felicia,” Morgan said stiffly. Her grin was brittle. Maybe she’d soon get the hint. “Does your wife know what happened between us back then?” “No.” “Well, maybe she should.” Thunder rumbled in the distance, and he glanced up at the clouds gathering over the mountains. If Courtney was hiking when the weather came in— “You’ve got it bad for her, don’t you Morg? I’ve seen the way you look at her. You’re so darned afraid she’s going to get away from you that you’re holding on tight.” He gritted his teeth, tempted to tell her to buzz off. “Why did you want to have lunch with me today? To give me a psychotherapy session?” She sighed. “When I saw you the other day I was really happy, you know. I thought we might…” She shrugged. “You know.” “You thought we might take up where we left off.” “Yeah.” He considered it. A short, wild affair with Felicia. Something to push away Courtney and his crazy feelings for her. When he didn’t reply, Felicia looked at him knowingly. “But you’re in love with your wife. I can see that now. It’s not like at the conference. Back then you were trying to get your mind off the fiancée you didn’t love.” He didn’t know whether to be stunned by her statement that he was in love with Courtney, or that he hadn’t loved Claudia. When it came right down to it, Courtney wouldn’t care what had occurred at the conference because Courtney wasn’t really his wife. Claudia had cared. It had put the last whammy on their already on-the-rocks, about–to-break-the-engagement relationship. 86

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“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe I used it as an excuse. A reason to get out of the relationship.” Thunder rolled again, and the clouds darkened. He hoped Courtney had returned from hiking. “Thanks for sharing a drink with me.” He put money on the table for their lunch. “I need to go.” Shrugging, she placed her hand over his again. “If you change your mind—” “I won’t.” He pulled his hand from hers. He headed back to the room, but when he arrived he discovered Courtney hadn’t returned. He flopped onto the bed, hoping he might take a nap. Instead he thought about Courtney and their friendship. Courtney saw him as this sort of bumbling, fumbling guy with a good heart. Okay, so maybe he could be socially tongue-tied and maybe when he fell into one of his philosophical moods he spaced out. Courtney saw this as a cute, but awkward trait. He knew it because she’d told him so enough times. He smiled. She was attracted to him. He remembered too well the way she’d responded to his kisses this morning. She’d softened, stirred, pressed against him. His blood pressure spiked just thinking about how her body had molded along his. The feeling of her breasts against his chest, her sweet butt cupped in his hands. He groaned. Oh, man. He swallowed hard as his groin stirred and he went hard as a spike. Whether he liked it or not, his body told the truth. He wanted her, and she wanted him. And if they hadn’t backed off he had a sneaking suspicion they would have made love. Damn. He gritted his teeth in physical and mental frustration. He looked at his watch and noted it was after two o’clock. What the hell was taking her so long to return from hiking? He would have loved to hike with her. In high school they’d spent a lot of time hiking and enjoying the scenery together. Hell, he’d endured high school because she’d been a bright spot in the daily tedium of attending classes that bored him to tears. When he’d applied to colleges and been accepted by MIT, his parents had been thrilled. But he’d decided to attend a small, private university in Denver and take up his interest in antiques and art history. Although most people thought he’d blown a gasket for passing up MIT, he’d managed to hold out despite criticism from family and friends. One friend, though, encouraged him to live his dream. Courtney. After obtaining his degree he worked with antique dealers around the Denver area for some time before going for his MBA. When some had looked askance at him for wanting his own shop, his best friend was there for him again. Courtney.

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After graduating with his MBA, he opened his own store. Who had been there to cheer him on and wish him good luck? Courtney. When it came down to the wall she’d always supported him through thick and thin. Like a beacon in a storm she’d never failed him. Discomfort and guilt tightened his chest. He’d failed her when she had trouble with Stan. All along, when she’d wanted a kind word, all he could do was criticize Stan. He couldn’t have excluded her out of his life more effectively if he’d told her to get out and stay out forever. “You’re an idiot, Lucas.” Rain splattered the window. While he imagined that many people took the trail alone, and he realized that Courtney had experience, concern lay like a rock in his stomach. Letting catastrophic thinking take over, he imagined horrific scenes. She’d fallen off the trail and into a canyon. She’d broken an arm or leg or lay bleeding from a wound. She been attacked by a deranged man who happened to walk the same trail. He paced, plunged his hand through his hair and sighed. “Get a grip, Lucas.” After another thirty minutes of going demented, he growled. “Son of a bitch. This is just paranoia.” But damn it, he was worried. He was going to find her. Snatching his Land Rover keys off the dresser, he headed for the door.

***** Courtney could smell the moisture in the air and saw the dark clouds that threatened close. She hobbled along, her ankle throbbing with each step she took. Although not a serious injury, the extra exercise didn’t help. They hadn’t passed anyone on the trail, and with the clouds lowering and building, she doubted anyone would be crazy enough to start the trail. “This is what I get for being a klutz,” she said, feeling an itch start where the bee sting on her arm throbbed relentlessly. “Don’t worry.” Edna shifted the heavy backpack on her shoulders as she walked along beside Courtney. She held Courtney’s right arm, afraid that her ankle might give out. “We’re not that far from the bottom. What happened could’ve occurred to anyone.” A sharp pain in her arm made her gasp. “Damn.” “What’s wrong?” “This bee sting hurts like the dickens.” “Hon, I hope you’re not allergic.” “I doubt it.”

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A flash of lightning made them flinch, and Courtney hurried her pace, disregarding the ache in her ankle. “All I need right about now is for it to—” A raindrop hit her forehead. “Rain,” she finished, sighing. She felt the throb in her arm increase and stopped to look. Edna glanced at the bite and her mouth tightened. “Hon, this thing is swelling up.” “Spectacular. Remind me to bring industrial-strength bug spray with me the next time I hike.” As they moved down the trail, Courtney wondered what could possibly happen next on her crazy honeymoon. Right about then she got her answer. She looked up and saw the man striding out of the trees toward them, and her stomach did a double flip.

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Chapter Twelve “Stan,” Courtney said in dismay. Courtney’s stomach did another dip, and she tried to recall if the sight of a man had ever made her sick before. “You know that young man?” Edna asked as Stan strode toward them up the trail. She sighed. “Unfortunately. He’s my former fiancé.” “Ah-ha. So he’s the one who makes your husband crazy.” “Exactly.” She winced when she took a wrong step and almost turned her ankle again. “Ouch!” Edna led her to a large rock. “Here, you take a load off.” Huge raindrops pelted down in earnest. “Here it comes.” “I’ve got one rain poncho in here.” “You take it.” “No. You’re hurt, you need it more than me.” Courtney shook her head. “No way. You take it.” Edna sighed. “You’re a stubborn creature, my dear.” “So I’ve been told.” Edna donned the poncho as the deluge came down. Stan arrived, dumping his backpack on the ground next to them. “What are you doing out here?” he asked Courtney and ignored Edna entirely. “Nice to see you, too, Stan.” She gave him a stiff smile and gestured to Edna. “Edna, I’d like you to meet Stanley Ashford. Stan, this is Edna Cartwright.” Edna smiled warmly at him and shook his hand vigorously. “Pleased to meet you.” Stan grinned back, turning on the charm. “The pleasure is all mine, I’m sure.” Perturbed with the salutations, Courtney sighed. “Did you just start hiking when you knew a storm was coming?” He shrugged, and she saw something pass through his eyes that made her suspicious. “No. I saw you come up the trail earlier and I thought I’d catch up with you. I’ve got something to tell you.” As the rain pelted them, Edna said, “We’d better get out of this rain quick.” Courtney agreed, not only because the lightning sparking around them meant danger but because she didn’t want to confront Stan’s motives in front of Edna. Courtney stood and felt a wave of pain slice through her ankle. She sat down and cursed soundly. 90

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“What’s wrong?” Stan asked. “She’s sprained her ankle and she has a bad bee sting on her arm,” Edna said, reaching to touch Courtney’s shoulder. He kneeled next to her and reached for her leg. She pulled her foot away, but the action caused another stab of pain to shoot through her ankle. “Stan, it’s raining. We can do this somewhere nice and dry.” “Well, you can’t walk on this ankle,” he said, and he put his hand out to her. “I’ll carry you.” Not about to allow him to touch her any more than necessary, she stood resolutely. Her ankle protested, her arm ached, and Stan’s appearance made her irritated enough to chew nails. A slowly unfurling roll of nausea started deep in her stomach. She hadn’t eaten lunch and it was hotter than Hades even under the cover of the trees. Before she could object, Stan lifted her up into his arms with a grunt. “Put me down, Stan.” At that moment two men rounded the last corner in the trail. Both men were dressed in ponchos and advancing on the trail at a determined pace. Courtney squinted and then she realized the larger man was Morgan. Edna waved as Morgan started to jog toward them. “Why, look there, Courtney. Your husband’s to the rescue.” “Humph.” Stan kept his grip on her tight. Courtney smiled and glanced at Stan, who pinched his face up in a nasty frown. “Morgan always comes to the rescue. He has this uncanny way of being in the right place at the right time just when I need him.” “Humph.” Stan shifted her in his arms as if he might lose his grip. “Must be love,” Edna said, smiling. Love. Courtney didn’t want to think about it. But the thought battered at her mind. Could she be spiraling ever closer to falling hard and fast for Morgan Lucas? Then again, maybe it wasn’t so fast. She’d known him for a long time and had learned so much from him and about him just as he had learned from her. As he approached, she could see the strain on his face. He looked… Nah… It couldn’t be. Yep, it was there in the frown on his brow. He was very, very worried. And maybe even angry. “What are you doing here?” she asked, smiling. “Looking for you,” he said before he reached them. “Everything okay here?” asked the thin, older man. “Right as rain,” Courtney said.

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As the men arrived in front of them, Morgan took in Stan’s determined grip on her. She couldn’t remember seeing a more sourpuss expression on Morgan’s face in her entire life. She’d be amused if her ankle didn’t throb mercilessly and her stomach didn’t tumble like a roller coaster. “I didn’t realize you were going hiking with Stan,” Morgan said. “I wasn’t,” she said hastily. “Edna and I were on the way back down the trail when Stan found us.” “I see,” Morgan said in a tone that betrayed he didn’t understand at all. Courtney glanced at the older man who accompanied Morgan, and the man smiled. Morgan made swift introductions, and Courtney couldn’t help but notice Edna’s dazzling smile as she shook hands with Jim. Jim even winked at Edna. “We need to get Courtney out of this rain and to a doctor,” Edna said. Morgan stepped forward, a mixture of perturbation and worry mixing in his even features. “What’s wrong?” “It’s all right, Morgan.” Stan spoke with gratification in his voice, as if he had full charge of the situation. “I’ve got everything under control.” Morgan’s eyebrows lowered into a glare that threatened more fireworks than the lightning in the clouds above them. “Bee sting,” Courtney said, before Morgan could explode on Stan. She showed him the arm. “It’s no big deal.” He grimaced. “This doesn’t look good.” He turned to Jim. “Jim, you’re a doctor. What do you think?” Jim examined the bite. “Looks like a mild allergic reaction. But we shouldn’t take chances. Better to get her to the clinic in town.” “She’s hurt her ankle, too,” Edna said. “It’s a tiny strain. While I was having a boxing match with the bee I took a header into the bushes,” Courtney said. Stan’s grip tightened on her. “We need to stop messing around.” He glared at Morgan, as if Courtney’s predicament was all Morgan’s fault. “Exactly how did she get into this predicament?” Morgan glared at Stan. Stan’s eyes flared with indignation. “Look, Lucas, if you’re implying—” “I said I was swatting at a bee and tripped,” Courtney said to head off the challenge building in both men’s demeanor. She took a deep breath and smiled congenially. “It was an accident.” Morgan and Stan continued to stare at each other like opposing wrestlers ready for a match. Stan shifted her in his arms again. “Uh, Stan, you can put me down,” Courtney said. Reluctantly he placed her on her feet. She took one step, but as soon as she did nausea rolled through her stomach. She closed her eyes, lightheaded.

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Morgan caught her arms. “Are you all right?” She pressed her hand to her stomach, embarrassment mixing with the upset stomach. “Um…I’m feeling a little strange.” Immediately he lifted her into his arms. To ease the dizziness, she put her head on his shoulder. He marched back down the trail, Edna trotting behind, Stan and Jim trying to match his stride. “Morgan—” Courtney started. “Don’t give me any lip.” He glared down at her. “You’ve hurt your ankle so there’s no point in walking on it, and besides that you’re feeling sick. Jim, where is that clinic located?” “There’s a clinic on Pine Bluff Road just below the resort,” Jim said. “But—” Courtney began. “Be quiet, or I’ll kiss you,” he growled. Edna chuckled. “I told you it was love.” Startled by Morgan’s declaration and Edna’s revealing statement, Courtney looked up at Morgan. A scowl marred his features. His stride was purposeful and strong. “Of course it’s love,” he said, a husky tone replacing the ire in his tone. Courtney was dumfounded. Was he saying that he was in love with her? No. He’d only said that for the benefit of the others. A sinking feeling added to her other pains, and with a weary sigh she suddenly wished she’d never come to Heart Inn Resort. When they arrived at the clinic, Morgan insisted on carrying her into the clinic and only relinquished her when a nurse brought a wheelchair. He sat with Edna, Stan, and Jim in the small waiting room. While Edna and Jim chatted amiably and Stan paced the room, Morgan fidgeted. He wished he’d requested to stay in the examining room with her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so uptight. It wouldn’t have surprised him if someone had told him he’d acquired high blood pressure on this socalled honeymoon. Restless, he stood and paced the room with Stan. After a couple of minutes Stan left to get coffee for all of them. “What’s taking so long for them to examine her?” Morgan asked. “She’s fine, honey. Don’t worry about her,” Edna said, giving him an encouraging smile. “Edna is right. She was more tired and hungry than anything,” Jim said. Morgan pushed a hand through his hair. “She wasn’t fine. Her arm was swelling, her ankle was hurting, and she was nauseated.” “I’m sure she’ll be fine now she’s here. They’ll take good care of her,” Edna said. 93

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Morgan looked down on the small woman. “I’m glad you were with her.” Edna crossed her legs and shifted in the plastic chair. “Me, too. But she would have been fine without me. She’s a tough lady. Good spunk, good common sense.” Morgan nodded, more than ready to admit to anyone who cared to listen that Courtney was wonderful. “But sometimes she tries to do too much. She won’t lean on anyone if she can help it. She’s damn stubborn.” Edna laughed and then winked at him. “I’ll bet you’ve always admired that about her, though.” True. All the things he liked about her were also the things that made him the craziest. He was beginning to think he really was married to her. Edna and Jim inspected him, and that unnerved him. “Do you always stare at people that way?” Morgan asked them. “Darn tootin’,” Edna said. Jim chuckled. “I’m a great observer of people. I poke, prod and scrutinize until I understand their true personality. Must be the doctor in me.” “Uh-huh.” Morgan sat in the chair beside Edna. “And I suppose you’ve got me figured out.” “You sound skeptical,” Edna said. He shrugged. “Right now I don’t know what I believe.” Edna crossed her arms. “I think you do. I think you’re just backed up.” “Backed up?” He glanced at Jim, as if the man could give him a definition. Jim shrugged and smiled. Edna patted Morgan’s hand. “I don’t pretend to understand exactly what’s going on between you and Courtney, but I know you love each other something fierce. But for some reason you aren’t able to admit it.” Morgan felt his throat close for a moment. “What?” Jim laughed again. “Edna, I think you’d better stop while you’re ahead. He’s confused enough.” Edna winked at Jim. “He’s confused all right. That’s why he needs our help.” Before anyone could say another word, a nurse arrived in the waiting area and told them Courtney was fine and they’d release her in a few moments. Morgan followed the nurse to the examining room. His heart did a flip-flop when he saw Courtney sitting up, smiling, and looking much better. “How is she?” Morgan asked the doctor. “The swelling from the bee sting is controlled and her ankle will be fine in a day or two. The nausea was a small reaction to the bee toxin, probably, but she shows no signs of other allergic counteraction. All she needs is rest and something to eat. You can take her home now.”

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Sighing with relief, Morgan thanked the doctor and approached the bed. Morgan reached out instinctively for Courtney and pressed her shoulder. She looked delicate with her ankle wrapped and her arm bandaged. “How do you feel?” “Good. Let’s get me out of here.” Morgan lifted her in his arms without hesitation. “Let’s go home.” Edna, Jim and Stan followed as they left the building. It took some maneuvering to wedge Courtney into the Rover. Stan hovered around the vehicle, as if he expected Morgan to drop her. “Watch her ankle,” Stan said, glaring. Morgan ignored Stan’s patronizing tone, gritted his teeth to hold back a retort, and tucked her in the passenger side of the Land Rover. He glanced at Courtney and saw a thunderous glower cross her face. She looked like she might brain Stan any moment. Now that might not be such a bad idea. She opened her mouth, but Morgan caught her gaze and waggled his eyebrows. She cracked a big smile, then looked over his shoulder at Stan. Stan was about to climb in the backseat. Edna came up behind Stan and clasped the young man’s arm firmly. “Why don’t you come with us in Jim’s car? There’s a lot more room.” Stan’s eyes grew round with surprise. “But—” She practically yanked him away. “Come on. I think Jim is impatient to hit Tangos for that margarita, aren’t you, Jim?” “You betcha,” Jim said, smiling from ear to ear, a mischievous twinkle dancing in his eyes. “But—” Stan’s protest was cut off as Morgan shut his door and started the engine. “Good riddance,” Morgan muttered as he pulled away from the curb. “Poor Stanley,” Courtney said, glancing out the back window at Jim’s car. Morgan felt a prickle of indignation. “Poor Stanley, my ass.” “Goodness, such animosity.” “As Mae West once said, goodness has nothing to do with it. When I saw that creep carrying you in his arms…” He’d wanted to rip her from Stan’s embrace. But he couldn’t say it. Not now. Not ever. She might get the wrong idea. She might realize how scared he’d been when he’d seen her in Stan’s arms. Scared that she’d been seriously hurt. Scared that Stan had won her back. “You wanted to do what?” she asked softly. His mouth opened then closed. “I thought he was going to drop you.” “He had a pretty good grip on me.”

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The thought of Stan having any kind of grip on her made Morgan’s teeth ache.

***** “Don’t ever do that to me again,” Morgan said as Courtney swung her throbbing ankle onto the bed and propped herself up with pillows. She frowned as she watched him head for the mini bar and snatch a little bottle of whiskey. “Do what?” “Scare the hell out of me like that.” He poured the amber liquid into a glass and walked back to the bed. He sat on the edge of the bed and took a sip of his drink. She gave him a lopsided smile. “You were scared? When?” “When you didn’t come back from hiking, I knew something was wrong.” “So you were worried that something happened to me.” “Of course.” “But you know I’m an experienced hiker—” He slugged back the rest of his whiskey and put the glass on the bedside table. “I know, I know. That didn’t keep me from imagining horrible things happening to you. Don’t leave me a note again without telling me who you’re going with.” Her smile disappeared faster than water dousing a flame. “Excuse me, your lordship, but I didn’t know I had to check in with you at all. If you remember correctly, we’ve talked about this before. I can hike with whoever I please.” “That’s not what I mean—” “Then what do you mean?” she asked, her voice a little louder than normal. He sighed. “I meant that I thought you were with Alan or Stan—” “And so you figured I was off necking in the bushes with one of them?” She could feel herself losing control, going somewhere that wasn’t constructive. But she couldn’t seem to stop. He glared at her. “No. I was worried about what Alan would do.” “You assumed I’d be with him?” “Yeah, that’s what I assumed. He seemed like the type who would play games with you.” “I could have handled him.” She pinned him with a hard look. “I can’t believe this. Nothing ever fazes you. Now you’re running around imagining I’ve been abducted by aliens or something.” The uncompromising set of his lips should have warned her she’d pushed him too far. “When did you get to be so damned prickly, Courtney? Is it because you were in such pain while you were with Stan that you want to share your pain now? Are you so sure that because I’m a man, I’m out to control and use you? Whenever I express my

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concern you change it around into something that says I’m trying to dominate you. Do you really believe that?” His tone, his vehemence served to slow her down and make her think about what she’d been doing and saying recently. He was right, in part. She had been prickly with him. “I think it’s because Stan is a controlling person and I don’t want that to happen to me ever again. I’m extra defensive. I’m sorry.” “Do you really believe I want to control you?” he asked again. “No.” “Good.” He shifted closer. “I was worried. If anything had happened to you…” His eyes were so warm, so giving, that she forgot about platonic friendship altogether and drifted to a place far more dangerous. She wanted to kiss him until he needed her more than he’d ever needed any other woman. He stood. “I think you could use a nap. You look exhausted.” “Actually, I’m exhausted and starving. No lunch.” “How about if I order lunch in?” “Sounds wonderful. But you know, we really are acting like honeymooners. We spend more time in this hotel room than anywhere else.” “Must be love,” he said. He watched her closely, his eyes reflecting something she didn’t dare to imagine. A pleasant tingle invaded her body, making her forget her aches and pains. Then she saw his gaze alter, change to something far more guarded. Disappointed to see that personal, warm reflection leave his eyes, she tried to cheer herself. As he reached for the phone, she said, “No strawberries this time, okay?”

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Chapter Thirteen “You’re beautiful in that bikini,” Stan said to Courtney as he strolled up to her poolside lounge chair. He displayed an appealing grin that reminded her temporarily of the charm that had drawn her to him in the first place. “Thanks.” Clad in her bikini, her wrapped ankle propped by a rolled towel, she was not exactly pleased to see Stan. She’d been happy to sit by the pool, alone, while Morgan went on a jog with Jim and Edna. She forced a smile and glanced at his lean hips clad in navy blue swim trunks, his strong legs, and broad shoulders. Even if she didn’t like him anymore, she had to admit he was attractive. Morgan, on the other hand, was so handsome he made her tingle in places that never tingled before. Stan sank into the chair next to her. “How’s your ankle?” “Fine. A day or two and I think it’ll be almost like new.” Half tempted to unwind the elastic bandage and scratch an itch that had been tormenting her for a good thirty minutes, she moved her foot experimentally. Her ankle still ached. Discoloration under the bandage attested to the damage her little adventure yesterday had accomplished. After a few moments of ubiquitous conversation, his tone changed. “I can’t believe you married that…that…Lucas guy,” he blurted out. “He’s a—” “Stop right there. Don’t say another word.” Anger more potent than a volcanic explosion threatened to send her running from the area, but if she ran away she’d never forgive herself for allowing him control. She wouldn’t let him ruin her vacation any more than it had already been ruined by twisted ankles, allergic reactions, and heady kisses with the man who was supposed to be nothing more than her friend. “Don’t you want to know what I saw him doing yesterday?” Stan asked. “No,” she said. Did he honestly think after all this time that his wounded look would sway her opinion? “He was holding hands with Felicia Glover.” A slow burn gathered in her stomach. “Is there some point to the conversation we’re having, or are you bent on getting some sort of reaction out of me?” Irritated, she wiped at some moisture that trickled down her neck. She glanced at Stan and noticed his gaze followed her every movement. “I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t tell you what I saw.”

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Her curiosity overtook her before she could clamp her mouth shut. “What did you see?” “Like I said, he was holding hands with her.” “That’s all?” “That’s all? I’d think you’d be concerned.” His voice rose slightly. “He was cheating on you. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” How would she react if she really was married to Morgan? Outrage? Cynicism? “Come on, Courtney. The man was holding hands with another woman. If I was—” “Morgan wouldn’t cheat on me,” she said matter-of-factly. He stood. “I care about you, Courtney. All I’ve every done is care about you. I want to protect you.” She almost laughed. He’d protected her to death. To the edge of her endurance and then some. Instead of commenting, she let her indignation simmer. “Have it your way,” he said. “But I think you’ve made a big mistake. And I’m going to do whatever I can to make you see it.” Before she could make a protest he walked away. As she wadded one corner of her towel in a tight fist, she felt her blood pressure rise. She didn’t know what to be more angry about—Morgan holding hands with Felicia, or Stanley’s vow to interfere with her “marriage”. She decided she’d be better off sipping a strawberry daiquiri inside the hotel than turning red from sunburn and fury. Maybe the alcohol would give her the courage not to care if Morgan flirted with Felicia, or to gear up for a final showdown with Stan.

***** “Hey, Squirt,” Morgan said as he put his hand on her shoulder companionably and sat on the barstool next to her. “Hey.” She barely glanced at him, forcing herself to appear interested in sipping her second daiquiri and munching the chips and dip in front of her. At least she hoped she appeared blasé about his sudden arrival. When she looked at him again, her glance lingered, her heart pounding at the sight of him. His rumpled polo shirt wasn’t tucked in, and he wore a pair of his oldest, most ragged jeans. She frowned. “You’re wearing your glasses again.” He pushed the glasses up higher on his nose and gave her a sheepish look. “Allergies. My eyes are itching like crazy. After Jim and I took a jog up the trail to Heart Hill, I had to come back and take my contacts out.” “You jogged all the way up the trail?” she asked in disbelief. He grinned. “Are you kidding? Jim would have made it to the top, but I gave out about half way there.”

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She sank a chip into the dip. As she crunched happily, she realized he was staring at her. “Something wrong?” She looked down, half expecting to see a blob of dip residing on her white T-shirt and shorts. He reached up and traced his thumb over her lower lip, and as he gazed into her eyes, her heart vibrated unsteadily. He retrieved a napkin off the bar and wiped his hand. “You had dip on your lip.” “Oh,” she said breathlessly. She half wished he’d kissed the dip off like he had the whipped cream. “Thanks.” He crumpled the napkin and tossed it on the bar. When he remained silent and started eating her dip and chips, she wondered if she should ask him about his handholding with Felicia. “Does it seem to you like we’re eating all the time?” she asked. “That’s what newlyweds do. Eat, drink and be merry.” “Be merry?” Giving her a thoroughly wicked grin, he said, “Okay. Eat, drink and make wild, passionate love. Not necessarily in that order.” She avoided his gaze. “But we’re not newlyweds.” “I beg to differ, my lady,” he said in a very poor English accent. “I carried you over the threshold yesterday.” “I guess I’d better slow down on the eating and drinking then,” she said. “Why?” “Because you won’t be able to carry me over the threshold anymore if I don’t.” He laughed. “Like you need to worry about your weight. You’re lighter than a feather.” Impulsively she reached out, gripped one of his biceps, and had the pleasure of feeling his rock-hard muscles. “You’re very strong.” He grinned again. “If Jim has anything to say about it, I’ll be in better shape than when I got here. The man’s a torture machine.” She looked down at her bandaged ankle and rotated it slowly. Hiking would be out during the rest of this vacation. Still, she wanted fresh air and needed someplace she could spend time alone with Morgan. Maybe then she’d have the courage to ask him about his hand-holding with Felicia. “I’d like some fresh air. What about a trip to the maze?” she asked. He winced. “We could be stuck in there for days, then there would be no more chances to eat, drink…or be merry.” To her dismay, a vivid picture of them making love in the maze popped into her head. She tried to gauge his feelings. Sultry, his gaze was the epitome of the cliché

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bedroom eyes. She thought she could feel his attention brush first over her hair, then slowly down to her lips. As if he were touching, not just browsing. “Okay, the maze it is,” she said softly. “All right. On one condition.” She gave him a mock frown. “Does there always have to be a condition?” “Yes. That you allow me to carry you.” “My ankle is okay. I should be able to walk slowly. It’s barely even sore.” He stood up and stretched. She watched his muscles flex, and that girly, fluttery feeling started in heart. “Squirt, you have to be the most headstrong woman I know.” “So you’ve told me repeatedly.” “Not without reason. Look, I’m not telling you what to do. I’ll carry you only if you ask me to.” “Deal.” As they left the bar, she pondered her feelings and his. She hated the confusion. With accounting she never had to worry about being uncertain. With relationships she walked the plank and stood at the edge, the possibility of being shoved into a drowning sea. Maybe the maze, with its winding passages and secrets, would help her ascertain her feelings, once and for all.

***** As Courtney gazed into the cerulean sky, she drank in a breath of the warm, gentle breeze. Walking slowly with Morgan, she headed toward the path that would lead them into the maze. As they approached the ninety-year-old hedgerows, she experienced a sense of anticipation, an awareness of walking into something that might change her forever, if only in a small way. She hovered on the brink of a discovery about Morgan, about herself. Wherever it led, she wanted a chance to explore. As they stopped at the plaque by the entrance to the maze, she gazed upward at the old greenery. Several feet high, it gave the impression of an impenetrable series of walls rather than a living, growing thing. “Says here the maze has been visited by a variety of famous people,” Morgan said, reading the plaque. “Theodore Roosevelt, Albert Einstein, Morgan Lucas.” She laughed. “Right. Morgan Lucas.” He switched on a look of feigned indignation. “What? Don’t you think I’ll be famous one day?” “You’ll be whatever you want to be. I have faith in you.”

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He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She drew in a deep breath, her body and mind delighting in the closeness. His gaze was warm, almost tender. “Thanks, sweetheart. But it looks like scientific minds aren’t the best ones at escaping this maze. It says here Albert Einstein took twice as long to find his way out of the maze as it did Roosevelt.” She chuckled. “That’s not so hard to believe.” “Why not? Einstein should have figured it out quicker.” She shrugged. “Not necessarily. If he was anything like you, then he might have been lost in there forever.” He pulled her even closer. “Hey, I’m good with directions.” She tilted her head back to look at him. “Remember that time we got lost on the way to that party in high school? We were an hour late.” “That happens to everybody once in awhile.” Feeling playful she poked him in the ribs. “Yeah, if you call once a month once in awhile.” He released her. “Okay, I’ll make you a bet.” She looked heavenward and then back at him. “Okay. Shoot.” “If I remember correctly, the last time I made you a bet, I lost. I want a chance to win. The bet is I can find the way out of this maze, even without the map in my pocket.” She gave him five. “You’re on. What’s the wager?” He gazed down at her, his eyes going smoky. A sensation brushed over her skin like an electrical tingle. Whatever the feeling was, it grew stronger every minute she remained with him. “I get the bed tonight. That damn love seat is about ready to cripple me,” he said. “You’re on.” She figured he’d retrieve the map after a few minutes’ frustration. Once inside the maze, they wandered slowly, enjoying the sounds of birds singing, and the rustle of tree leaves in the wind. When they’d reached the center of the maze, her ankle began to ache. She came to a halt next to a Grecian-style bench in a secluded alcove. “Damn,” she said, sinking onto the bench. “I guess I was too ambitious.” He stopped and turned back to her. “Ankle hurt?” “Yep.” He sank down next to her. “We’ll rest.” “I’d ask you to carry me, but it would eventually break your back.” He had the gumption to look offended. “Hey, you just said earlier I’ve got muscles.”

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Courtney couldn’t help giving his body a quick once-over. Damn, he looked delicious. “You do. Lots of them. I’m surprised women around here aren’t falling all over you.” His eyebrows went up. “You’re kidding.” “No, I’m not. You’re a very handsome man, Morgan.” He looked away from her, a sheepish look coming over his features. “Thanks. I didn’t think…” “What?” He returned his gaze to hers, and this time she saw heat inside them. “I didn’t think you noticed what I looked like one way or the other.” He shook his head, his gaze tracing over her breasts, then downward over her legs. “You’re perfect. Remember, I saw you in a bikini. I’ve felt you in my arms. You don’t realize the potential you have to drive a man nuts.” “I’m sure I drive you crazy,” she said before she could think about how that sounded. “I mean, this whole trip has been strange. Not what I expected, I assure you.” As the wind tossed her hair around her head, he reached over and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Do you regret coming here with me? To the hotel?” At his softly spoken, almost sad entreaty, another fragment of her heart yielded, and her fear that she was growing more and more attracted to him increased. “No. It’s had its high points.” “Good. You know, I’ve been wondering something for so long now. I’ve been afraid to ask you.” “Afraid? Why would you ever be afraid to ask me anything?” “Because of what’s happened between us in the last few months. We haven’t talked much.” Sadness tweaked her. “I know.” She looked down at her hands folded in her lap. “And it’s my fault.” “Why would you think that? It’s as much my fault as it is yours.” “I’ve neglected our friendship. I’ve put us on hold while I’ve been working. When I was with Stan I let us drift apart.” “We had to drift apart some. I’m not sure how happy Stan would have been with us going to lunch together or movies or talking on the phone for hours.” She nodded. “Stan is the jealous type. He was never sure that I loved him. It didn’t matter what I said, he never believed me.” “That’s crazy. You didn’t date other people.” “No, I didn’t. But he had to have control.” “Shit. I know. I didn’t help things. I drove you even further away when I made sarcastic comments about him.”

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“True. I mean, the few times I did get to see you, you were so intent on putting him down.” Deep compunction drew his mouth into a frown. She wanted to reach out and touch his lips, feel them against her skin again. Swallowing hard to resist the impulse, she waited for his reply. “I never apologized for that, Courtney.” He put one of his hands over her folded fingers. “I was wrong.” “You were concerned, that’s all.” “But at the time I should have seen you needed support, not criticism for being with him. I could have thought of some other way to show that you had my understanding.” Before he could draw his hand away, she twined her fingers with his. Like a lifeline, he held her hand gently, cradling it. “He was worse…the things he said about you, Morgan.” He didn’t look surprised. “I can guess.” “He used to say that I couldn’t have lunch with you, or talk with you. If he caught us together…” The sharp pain of the memory caught her off guard, and she had to pause. It had been distressing being separated from Morgan. Looking back now, the pain was almost fresh, as if Stan could reach out and take Morgan away from her. Morgan remained silent, and she looked at the grass beneath her feet. “He said if he caught us together, he’d know we’d been…” “What?” “Sleeping together.” A wave of emotions crossed his face, merging into a one. Surprise, concern, and finally, anger. “He thought I was trying to take you away from him?” An ache gathered in her throat. “He said that he could see in your eyes that you wanted me.” She waited, hoping that he would say something, but his features stayed carved in stone, ire firmly in place. “I told him it was crazy. I explained to him repeatedly that we were only good friends. In the end, I guess, I rationalized that he was right. Not that you wanted me, but that it was wrong for me to be around you when I was with him.” Morgan nodded slowly, capturing her gaze with his. “That’s why you really drifted away from me. Not because you wanted to, but because he thought it was wrong for you to see me.” “Yes. Things had been going wrong between Stan and me for a long time before he told me I couldn’t see you anymore. But that night, when he told me to stay away from you, I felt like a defiant child battling a domineering parent.” “When did this happen?” “In December.” His hand tightened on her fingers. “And then I hurt you even more.”

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She knew she must look puzzled. “What do you mean?” “The party. I didn’t invite you to the party.” The memory of that depressing time opened a fresh vein, and she let herself feel the hurt again. She pulled her hand from his. “Why didn’t you invite me, Morgan?” An acerbic grin curved his lips as he shifted on the bench, turning toward her slightly. “I acted more like an adolescent than a man. I felt hurt. You cut yourself off from me. You were always too busy to have lunch. Could never talk on the phone or in person. I should have tried harder to understand what was happening. All I saw was you drifting away.” “I can understand why you felt that way. I didn’t tell you why I was distancing myself.” “I should have come to you and asked what was going on. Instead I let you go.” She heard the hurt in each syllable as he spoke. “I’m so sorry. I hurt you so much, and it wasn’t fair.” He moved closer, his other hand coming up to cup her cheek, to rub his thumb lightly over her skin. She leaned into his touch, practically closing her eyes at the pleasure. “We hurt each other,” he said softly. “I’ll never do that again. I promise. Because no man is going to control me to that point ever again.” He nodded slowly, reaching to lightly massage her shoulder then slide his arm around her so that he could bring her close. She sank into his gaze as she felt heat grow between them and an urgency to reach for him. “Is that why you’ve spent so much time during this vacation refusing my help?” he asked. The question did more than surprise her, it made her question her motivations. During the entire trip she’d acted as though Morgan was like Stan and that he had an agenda to control and conquer her. She’d projected onto Morgan qualities he’d never possessed. How could she have believed her dearest friend could possibly treat her with such disregard and lack of respect? She’d wounded Morgan deeply, and now that she knew the extent of the laceration, she wasn’t certain what she could do rectify the fissure between them. Then she knew. She couldn’t remedy the gap. She couldn’t return to just being friends with Morgan. She couldn’t because she’d fallen in love with him. Fully and without reserve. She closed her eyes and tears rushed forward, threatening an immediate flood. The lump in her throat grew. “I’ve made a mess of things with you and now I’m afraid you’ll never forgive me.” Without reservation, she buried her face in his chest.

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He made a soft noise that sounded like a moan as he touched his lips to her forehead. “No, Squirt. It’s not a mortal wound, you know.” His assurances and the comfort of being in his arms should have relieved her tears, but instead they came steadily. He rubbed her back, pushed his fingers through her hair softly. The heat and hardness of his body warmed her, drew her into a cocoon she never wanted to leave. But she would have to. Raising her head from his chest, she looked up at him. What she saw in his eyes made her heart flutter and her pulse race with excitement. Yes, empathy, understanding and forgiveness resided there. Those alone would have freed her. Passion and hunger conveyed to her in his embrace and the way he traced his fingers along her jaw and throat, then over her back tenderly. He must see it in her gaze. Kiss me. Kiss me. As if he’d read her mind, his lips came down on hers, capturing her mouth in a heart-stopping kiss full of promise. His touch enveloped her as his arms crushed her against him. He didn’t waste time on preliminaries. His tongue asked for entrance, then stroked hers with an erotic rhythm that created a wave of heat through her body. His palms ran along her back, soothing, pampering, as if trying to comfort her for all the times he hadn’t been there for her. Sizzling arousal pooled low in her belly and demanded a finish. Wanting to assure Morgan, to give him the understanding he’d given her, she held him tight. She fingered the thick, soft texture of his hair, delighting in the soft groan that came from deep within him. Gently he released her lips, and she gave a little moan of protest. “Morgan,” she whispered, dazed and trembling. He cupped her face in her hands, bringing her lips close to his again. His breath came fast and she could feel his heat drawing her deeper into the inferno. His gaze held powerful desire, a devouring craving that stirred treacherous needs deep inside her. “Ever been merry in a maze?” he asked. “No. Have you?” “No, but I’d sure like to try.” His lips brushed hers with fleeting touches, retreating and then returning. Each movement took her higher, bringing to life everything inside her she’d thought dead. Every need lost from months of denial, from trying to pretend she needed nothing but work to keep her sane. His fingers brushed her breast, lightly cupping, and she gasped into his mouth as he traced a nipple with a gently circling motion. She tore her lips from his. “Morgan,” she gasped. His breath came fast against her. “Hmmm?” “Do you think we should be doing this here? I mean, someone might run into us here.” 106

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She saw a special amusement in his eyes, an appreciation for her thoughts. “Oh, but it could be exciting here in the maze.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then her ear, trailing his lips down to her neck. “The danger of being discovered.” A flash of heat enveloped her. “I never knew you were so…so…adventuresome.” “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Squirt,” he said, punctuating every other word with a kiss against her lips. “And I intend to show you every one.” Another gasp tore from her as he cupped her breast again. “Oh, excuse us.” Springing back from each other, they turned to see who had stumbled upon them. A young couple stood hand in hand, grinning broadly. “Sorry,” the young woman said, her grin growing even wider. “No problem,” Courtney said, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat. “We thought we’d visit the maze and see if what they say is true,” the man said. “Who says what is true?” Morgan asked. The woman grinned salaciously. “Apparently walking in the maze has the effect of imbibing a powerful aphrodisiac. Almost as good as a trip to Heart Hill.” Courtney glanced at Morgan, and he looked as embarrassed as she felt. “Oh, really?” “Shall we go, honey?” He looked down at Courtney with an uneasy smile and stood. As they bid the couple a polite goodbye, Morgan took Courtney’s hand. His smile was wry. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more embarrassed in my life.” “I know. But we shouldn’t be. We’re married, remember?” “Pretending to be married,” he said firmly. For Courtney, all the romance of a few moments ago seemed to dissolve like cotton candy in her mouth. Sweet but fleeting. Shortly after Morgan and Courtney found their way out of the maze. “Hey, I won the bet,” he said. “What?” “I found the way in and out without the map.” “Oh, yeah.” She didn’t much care. Everything faded in the face of what she’d discovered about herself in that maze. Now, the prospect of loving with a man who didn’t love her threatened to shrivel her heart. She reminded herself he had been seen holding hands with Felicia, and despite the closeness and forgiveness they’d given each other in the maze, it didn’t mean that he loved her. As her heart ached, she kicked herself a thousand times for being a fool. How could she have let herself fall in love with him?

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Chapter Fourteen Morgan felt sweat pour off him as he resolutely settled on the bench in the sauna. He hoped the steam would lull him into a peaceful frame of mind. He wished he’d never gone into the maze with Courtney that afternoon. He wished he’d never let his passion take control of his common sense. Instead he’d succumbed to needing her and realizing that if he didn’t stop their escalating passion, he’d have lifted her in his arms, marched to their room, and made love to her. He couldn’t remember experiencing anything as powerful as what he felt when he’d kissed her in the maze. God, he wanted her. Maybe he’d always wanted her. Seeing her in Stan’s arms yesterday had totally capped it for him. Jealousy had ravaged his insides. He’d wanted to rip Courtney out of Stan’s arms. Once he’d held her in his arms and walked down the trail with her, he’d felt infinitely better. At least he knew she was safe if he held her. Today they’d shared kisses and caresses that had nothing to do with pretending to be married for the benefit of those around them. Her responses had proven she was as physically attracted to him as he was to her. At least he had that consolation. He was saved from ruminating more when a familiar figure entered the room. Stan nodded at him. “Afternoon.” “Afternoon,” Morgan said as distaste rose up in his throat. Morgan resolved to spend a couple more minutes in the sauna, then leave. Stan settled on a bench across from him. “I’m glad I caught up with you.” “How did you know I was here?” “Courtney told me. I’ve got business to discuss with you.” Stan’s words implied something intimate between him and Courtney. Morgan didn’t like it. “I can’t imagine that we have anything to discuss.” Stan’s face turned to granite. “Don’t give me that bull, Lucas. You and I have a mutual interest.” Morgan wanted to rip his throat out. “Get to the point.” “Courtney.” “What about her?” “She’s very important to me, and I don’t want to see her get hurt.” Morgan thought about laughing, even though he didn’t find Stan’s statement amusing. “Stan, I couldn’t care less what you think about her.” “Oh, but I think you do. Yesterday I had her in my arms again, and I don’t think you liked it.” 108

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Morgan shifted on the bench, gripping the edge of the seat tightly and crossing his legs at the ankles. “In future I suggest you keep your hands off her.” Stan guffawed, one corner of his mouth tilted in a sarcastic smile. “Oh, she’ll be back in my arms again. She confessed to me that she still needs me. She’s forgiven me for the past and wants to come back to me.” Anger tickled Morgan’s brain, and a sour sensation assaulted his stomach. Could she possibly still care about Stan in some way? After everything she’d confessed to him in the maze, he found the idea difficult to assimilate. “She doesn’t care about you.” Stan grinned. “She’s always been in love with me, and she told me that all she was waiting for was the right time to let you down easy.” Impossible. Could Courtney have kissed him the way she had if she loved Stan? Morgan put up a hand. “Now wait a minute. She made the decision that your relationship wasn’t working. She left you a long time before we decided to get married.” Stan apparently didn’t think listening to Morgan’s replies was half as good as listening to himself talk. “Courtney needs a man to protect her,” Stan said. “You don’t fill the bill. Where were you when she was hiking and hurt herself?” Morgan almost let Stan get to him. Yes, he’d felt a little guilt, but that had passed. She’d made the resolution to hike, she hadn’t gone solo, and accidents happened. While anger roiled in his gut, Morgan barely managed to hold back a string of expletives. “Courtney is a grown woman, Stan, and she doesn’t believe in letting a man dictate her actions. That’s where you went wrong in the first place. She’s not an item for you to put on a mantle and polish and take out whenever you feel the need. She’s a warm, giving, loving woman. And you, being the stupid son of a bitch you are, couldn’t see that.” Morgan stood and made his way toward the exit. Stan stood and blocked his way, and Morgan wondered if the ignoramus planned to pick a fight with him. “Move out of the way, Stan.” Stan’s smile was closer to a grimace. “Not until you promise to let her go.” Morgan took a deep breath and put his hands on his hips. “Like I said, Courtney is an adult. Unlike you, I don’t feel the need to control her actions for fear of losing her or for the thrill of possessing her.” Morgan stepped forward and Stan blocked the doorway again. Morgan’s anger heightened. “Get out of the way.” “Over my dead body. Not until you—” “Look, Stan, it would be pretty undignified of us to have a fight right here, clad only in towels don’t you think?”

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Stan took that moment to draw back and land a good one right on Morgan’s chin.

***** “What!” Courtney squeaked, sitting up straight and swinging her feet off the bed. She listened intently as Edna told her, over the phone, what had happened downstairs. She shook the remaining sleep out of her system, trying to comprehend what Edna had said. “There was a commotion downstairs involving Stan and Morgan. Jim and I were in the lounge having a cappuccino when we heard sirens and went out to see what was going on. There were police—” “Police!” “Morgan’s got this cut over his eye and a bruise on his chin. Actually Stan looks worse—” “Morgan’s hurt?” Courtney’s voice rose sharply. “I think he’s okay.” Incredulous, Courtney put her hand to her head. “I can’t believe this. I’m coming right down.” “Sugar, I don’t think that’s necessary. The police are already gone and I think Morgan—” “I’ll be right there.” Courtney hastily replaced the receiver. As she slipped on her shoes, Courtney cursed the sun and the moon, and her own stupidity for imagining that a vacation like this could work. Was it asking too much for one day to pass without a fiasco of some sort occurring? She knew she shouldn’t have told Stan that Morgan had gone to the sauna. Never in a million light years would she have guessed Stan and Morgan would fight. Before she could tie her shoes, Morgan entered the room. Other than a bandage above his right eye, and a small bruise on his chin, he didn’t look worse for wear. She hopped up and walked toward him, ignoring the steady throb in her ankle. “Morgan, what the hell—” “You’re not supposed to be walking on that ankle,” Morgan said firmly, clasping her by the shoulders and marching her back to the bed. He gently pushed her into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. “Who cares about my ankle? Are you all right?” A fleeting but genuine smile flashed across his lips. “I’m damn good. You ought to see the other guy.” She glared at him, not seeing the humor. “Edna called and told me what happened.” He sank onto the bed next to her. “Leave it to Edna to give the blow by blow account.” 110

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Exasperated, she sighed. “She didn’t give me a blow by blow account. But she did say you had a fight with Stan.” She reached up to tilt his head so she could see his wounds. “Actually it wasn’t much of a fight,” he said. She released his face. “What do you mean?” “Stan took a swing and hit me in the chin.” Morgan touched the spot and winced. “When I didn’t do much more than stagger back he came at me again.” “Oh, no.” “Yeah. I guess he thinks he’s a featherweight champion.” Morgan’s eyes lit up again, and she wondered how he found the situation so amusing. “By this time we’d both lost our towels.” “Oh, no,” she said again. The image of Morgan naked flashed into her mind and brought heat to her cheeks. “What happened then?” “I hit back and knocked him flat on his ass. Unfortunately, I slipped on the wet floor and hit my head on the corner of a bench.” She gasped, and reached up to touch his head next to the bandage. “Morgan, you could have been badly hurt.” He shook his head. “It barely fazed me. Can’t say that about Stan, though.” “What?” “Jim took him to the hospital.” “Oh my God!” “He’s okay. Jim checked us both out. But Stan needed stitches.” Her agitation heightened. “What were you thinking? Not only could Stan have hurt you, but the police might have charged you with assault. What kind of macho—” “Hey, I didn’t pick the fight. He did.” “You didn’t have to fight him.” “I wasn’t about to let him pound on me.” “Yes, but—” “If anybody should press charges it should be me.” Worried that the situation would escalate into something far worse, she said, “Are you going to press charges?” He shook his head. “No.” He sighed and lay back on the bed. When he remained silent for several moments, she realized he wasn’t going to elaborate on the reason for the fight until she prodded him for information. “Fess up. Why did you fight him?” Bit by bit he related to her the conversation that had lead to the fracas. “He said you needed a man to protect you and that I couldn’t do the job.” “That’s ridiculous. I don’t need protection.”

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“That’s what I told him. I reminded him that you’re an adult and make your own decisions.” He sat up and gazed at her intently. He placed his hand over hers where it rested on her thigh. The heat of his skin seemed to translate clear through to her thigh. “He told me that you confessed to him you still care about him. That you want to go back to him.” “What?” She gaped at him. “I did no such thing.” “That’s what he told me.” “You know I wouldn’t go back to him.” For a moment she thought she saw relief enter his eyes. Then his gaze turned wary, not quite believing. “Are you sure?” Tears stung her eyes. Couldn’t he see it? Couldn’t he tell by now that she was in love with him…the one and only Morgan Lucas? “Yes.” She took a deep breath and touched the side of his face gently. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” A twinkle of amusement lightened his features. “My back is killing me. So much for soothing tired muscles in a sauna.” “Poor baby.” He gave her a mock frown. “Hey, next time I’ll let you hit Stan.” He rolled his shoulders slowly, and under the T-shirt his muscles rippled in a way that made her breath catch. He groaned. “If I’d known this vacation was going to require me to jog, lift weights, and kick Stanley Ashford’s sorry butt, I don’t think I’d have come.” “Really?” He smiled then shook his head. “No. I’ve had too much fun.” He rolled his shoulders again and slowly windmilled his arms as if trying to work out the tight muscles. A heat unlike anything she’d experienced pooled deep in her belly as she watched him. The desire to touch him overran her restraint. “Take off your shirt,” she said. He stopped his stretching and looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “What?” “Take off your shirt, and I’ll give you a rub-down. I have some of that new massage oil I want to try. It’s the least I can do for you…uh…since you kicked Stan’s sorry butt.” A thoroughly sweltering grin crossed his lips as the indecision loosened and flowed away in his eyes. His gaze locked on hers, and his pupils widened. Oh, yes. She saw the interest there, the sure sign of arousal and interest. The idea he might want her prickled along her nerve endings like a wild fire, exciting her so intensely, she knew what happened next could lead to a combustion she didn’t want to stop. As if in slow motion he tugged the T-shirt over his head. She felt her stomach clench as his fabulous musculature came into view. Giving her a cocky grin, he winked. “What about my jeans? Do I need to take them off?”

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His question floored her. Suddenly she forgot she had a voice. She cleared her throat. “Do your legs hurt?” With a suggestive tilt of his head, he said, “Oh, I ache all over.” Caught up in the heat that filled the space between them, she swallowed hard. Immediately the room seemed incredibly small. What was she doing? If she touched him would she be able to stop at simply playing masseuse? How would she manage to knead his sore muscles without going up in flames? “We’ll start with your back muscles and work our way…down,” she said a little breathlessly. “What’s next?” “Lie on your stomach.” Grinning, he did as told. She walked into the bathroom and looked for several moments for the bottle of oil. When she finally retrieved it, she dropped it twice. She took a couple of deep breaths to calm the excitement within her. She approached the bed with emotions that spiked from doubt to happiness at having him with her. As she uncapped the bottle and poured a small amount of the oil in her palm, he began to snore. She groaned. “Damn it.” His head snapped up. “What?” Embarrassment flooded her cheeks. “I…uh…thought you’d fallen asleep.” Once again he winked at her. “Gotcha.” “You brat,” she growled. Instead of leaning over the bed to give him the massage, she straddled his perfect backside. He grunted as she straddled his butt and settled her weight on him. “That deserves severe punishment.” He moaned. “Punish me.” She had a perverse desire to drive the man to within an inch of insanity, and she started to knead the tight muscles in his back. As the oil slicked over his tanned back, she worked steadily, without pause, getting into the rhythm. Sighing heavily, he relaxed under her fingers, and she felt a keen power that had nothing to do with common sense or caution. She wanted him. She could feel it in the prickle of sensation in her breasts, in the hot, tight pressure between her thighs. She was nuts and then some. Maybe if she talked to him about something that would distract her wayward and entirely sexual thoughts… “Stan told me that he saw you holding hands with Felicia.” He instantly tensed, and before she knew it, he rose up, toppling her onto her left side onto the bed. Although his face had turned to stone, he remained lying down, and he put his hands behind his head in a casual pose. “I wasn’t holding hands with her, Courtney.”

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“He said you were.” “And you believed him?” She shrugged. “I don’t know exactly what to believe anymore.” “She grabbed my hand. He was across the pool watching us. I pulled my hand away.” He reached for her hand and clasped it in his warmly. “This is holding hands.” As the moment stretched between them, she practically forgot to breathe. “I’d better finish that massage.” She moved her fingers in his, but instead of releasing her, he pressed her fingers against his chest. As she allowed him to trap her gaze within his, she moved her fingers softly, learning the texture and feel of his hair-roughened chest. God, he was sculpted to perfection. Her heartbeat increased, her breaths coming faster. Excitement coiled low in her belly and sent a rush of heat between her legs. His pectorals felt wonderful under her fingers, his arms powerful— Oh, yes. She was a goner. “That feels great,” he said huskily. Barely able to hear his low tone, she leaned down to hear him, temporarily stopping the massage. “What did you say?” “I said…if you don’t stop I don’t think I’ll be able to resist.” She licked her lips. “Resist what?” Before she could move, his arms came around her, and he plunged his fingers into hair. He brought his lips to within a scant inch of hers. “This,” he whispered. Then his warm lips captured her mouth.

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Chapter Fifteen When Morgan kissed Courtney this time, she knew they couldn’t go back. No denying their needs. No pretending to be lovers. Make-believe was over. How could she have taken so long to see that this wonderful, sweet, sexy man was right in front of her? For all her life it seemed he’d been there, and now she didn’t plan on letting him go. Worries about their friendship defied her to forget. But with his next touch, every concern drifted away. And it seemed he touched her everywhere, stroking against her shoulders, along her ribs to the indent of her waist. For she knew he wanted to be her lover, and she would die if she couldn’t feed this raw need she’d seen reflected in his eyes. Like a starving woman she wanted to see that hunger in his eyes again and again and again. Excitement clutched her stomach as Morgan used every erotic tool in his arsenal. Warm and seeking, his lips nibbled and tasted as his tongue took her mouth in a blatant sexual invitation. Where his kiss might have held something back at one time, he restrained nothing now. A rough moan came from deep in his chest, the sound animal. Through the haze of commotion in her senses, she knew she’d remember this moment for as long as she lived. She slid her hands over his shoulders, testing the strength and power she found there. No imaginings could have prepared her for the hard, muscular flesh she cherished beneath her fingers. She ached to know every inch…to caress, press and tease. To make him happy in every way she could. She drew in the scent of him. The hot, masculine, aroused tang that from this day forward she would always remember as his. Slowly his hands took inventory, searching her face, trailing down to her breasts and her waist and her hips with featherlight touches. Each sweet contact fed her hunger, and her urgency turned to a longing as pure and desperate as anything she’d experienced. He released her lips and looked at her with an unmistakable message burning in his eyes. He turned her over on her back and half covered her with his body. His lips came to hers again, exquisite and considerate. Against her thigh, she felt his arousal hot against her. Boldly she pressed her hips closer, aching to filled by him. When he cupped her breast she inhaled sharply. Releasing her lips, he kissed a path to her ear. He traced his tongue about the tender lobe, then repeatedly pushed his tongue inside until she shivered and gasped with pleasure. Hot with need, she moaned when he stopped the delicious torture and nuzzled her neck, brushing tiny kisses over her sensitive skin.

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Morgan had never felt this way before. Had never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Courtney. Had never wanted to please a woman the way he wanted to please her. Every movement of her body as she strained against him drove him another step closer to losing control. Part of him couldn’t wait until he sank deep into her soft depths and felt the wet, tight heat of her surrounding him. He wanted to thrust inside her hard and deep until the pleasure shook him to the bone. Yet more than anything he wanted to strip her slowly, take her gently until she screamed in pleasure and begged him not to stop. All thoughts of consequences fled under the power of his feelings and in the pounding need driving him toward completion. Above even the physical need that drove him forward was the knowledge that she was his for this moment. He would show her how much he cared. How much he valued her in every way. Slowly, as he drove her insane with his touch, he pulled the straps of her sundress down, revealing her breasts. The round, full breasts nestled easily into his hands and the warmth of them drove his hunger higher by the moment. He molded her, stroking, massaging, as he caressed her nipples with the tips of his fingers. Courtney saw the blaze of desire deepening in Morgan’s dark eyes, turning them black with an animal need. A flush covered his cheekbones and his breathing came faster. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured as he tortured her nipples with flicks of his fingers. He moved with maddening slowness to taste the side of her breast, lingering with licks and small kisses. Her nipples rose to taut peaks that stung with pleasure. God, how she wanted more. Still, he avoided the tight centers, tormenting her until she whimpered. Finally he licked them with an exquisite touch and treated the tight centers to gentle suckling. She arched into his mouth, imploring. He complied, drawing on her until the fire between her legs reached a feverish ache. “Morgan,” she whispered. He loved the way Courtney sounded as she gasped his name, and he treasured the knowledge he brought her deep pleasure. That he had been able to resist her for so long assured him he must be insane. He took in the deep flame in her eyes, the plea within them that begged to be assuaged. Her lips parted, lush, full and offering a million secrets to plunder. Restlessly she traced her hands over the hard muscles of his body. She admired his flesh as she palmed her hands over him, tracing the dark mat of hair that covered his chest and narrowed down to his waist. With her index finger she teased him, trailing her finger over his chest, down to his stomach, then toying beneath the waistband of his jeans. 116

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“God, Squirt, you’re killing me,” he groaned. With a sweet, seductive laugh, she cupped him through the fabric of his jeans. “Pick your method of death.” His laugh caught on a moan as she continued to move her fingers over his erection. With each caress he took a halting breath, sharp and telltale. By the mischievous smile barely touching her lips, he knew she delighted in knowing she did this to him, that his desire was for her and her alone. He opened the button on his jeans, and she took the cue, pulling down his zipper. She reached for him, finding him and drawing him forth into her hand. The feeling of her hand encircling him, moving over his skin, made Morgan grit his teeth in painful pleasure. He slipped a hand along the smooth, firm length of her leg, slowly coming around to the inside of her thigh. He teased, never quite touching the spot that throbbed within her. A dazzling dart of excitement hit her as he relented, finally touching her between the legs. As he stroked her through her panties, the delicious friction of fabric against sensitive nerve endings increased her excitement. With every movement of his fingers, she grew moist and hot. Repeatedly he stroked and enticed until excitement sent a gasp from her throat. When she thought she could stand no more, he reached for her panties and pulled them down and off. Desperate to feel her naked flesh against his, she sat up and pulled the sundress away. She tossed it away and it landed on the floor. Climbing off the bed, he shoved his jeans and briefs off so that he stood naked in front of her. She’d never seen a man as magnificent as him. As she admired his body, he kneeled at her calves, touching them gently, reverently, pressing kisses over them. She’d never thought of her legs as an erogenous zone before, but Morgan proved to her that they were keenly receptive. With soft kisses he trailed a path upwards, lingering on her thighs until he reached the part of her that ached the most. He hesitated, offering her a sexy smile that drew the breath from her. “Morgan,” she whispered again as he teased her thighs with circular caresses. She drew in a sharp breath of pleasure as his lips and tongue made explicit acquaintance with the most intimate part of her. She lay back on the bed with a gasp, trembling at the pleasure. Without hesitation he learned every inch of soft flesh, every place that pleased her the most. He took her on a journey she had never experienced, never dared to dream about, never knew existed. As his tongue explored her moist folds, she plunged her fingers into his hair, soft moans of surrender and heightened pleasure breaking from her lips. Without mercy he tasted and licked, then concentrated on sensitive areas that tingled and burned with each stroke. Trembling on the brink, she moaned. “Morgan, you are driving me crazy.” “Complaining?” he said huskily as he moved up her body, kissing her as he went. “No,” she gasped. “You’re wonderful.”

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Finally he came up next to her, his lips hovering over hers, his eyes reflecting a heat of desire she’d never seen in another man’s eyes. Tears of happiness sprang to her eyes and as one fell to her cheek he drew in a sharp breath, his brow furrowing. “Sweetheart,” he said, his voice coming deep and gruff with passion. “What’s wrong?” She smiled, her lips trembling. She reached up to touch his face, feeling the roughness of his beard against her palm. “Nothing is wrong,” she whispered. “Everything is right.” Aggressively she drew him into a passionate kiss that broke the boundaries. When his fingers found her moist and hot, he captured her moans of need against his lips. Morgan wanted to give her anything she wanted. He wanted to feel her contracting around him, driving him out of his mind with pleasure. He needed to know she wanted him more than any man she’d known. As he increased the stroke of his fingers, he whispered, “Tell me what you need, Courtney. I’ll do anything for you. Anything.” Panting, she breathed out the words. “I want you. Only you.” “We need protection.” “No. I’m on the pill.” The touch of her hand on him, stoking, lingering, almost pushed him to the edge of madness. He couldn’t wait any longer. Shifting his body, he moved between her thighs. He touched his hardness to her, drawing in a hissing breath at the feel of her. Slowly, for fear of hurting her, he took his thrust slowly, teasing her with small plunges. She arched against him as he dipped into her, and she gasped sharply. Her reaction set him free. He pushed deep. Her sigh of satisfaction feathered against his ear, and he kissed her with a passionate roughness. He remained still within her for long moments, savoring the acute sensation of her surrounding him in a tight velvet clasp. Moments drew out with agonizing slowness, and she knew he tortured himself and her…tortured because he wanted this pleasure to last and last. But she knew when he could no longer hold back. Felt it in the groan that broke from him, a tremble that rippled through his powerful arms. And he began to move within her, taking her with deep, lazy strokes. She wrapped her legs around his lean hips and stirred to his rhythm, discovering that each thrust and retreat created a pleasure so intense, she moaned with each stroke. She let all thought drift away until nothing existed for her but the continual sensation of Morgan immersing himself inside her again and again. He lost all contact with anything but the primitive need to drive into her. He shivered as her unfettered response finally urged him to thrust harder, to increase his motion until he hammered into her. 118

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Pleasure reached a state so acute, little moans escaped her as she gasped for breath. Then the joy reached a height she could no longer bear. With an unrestrained cry, she clasped him tightly and surged upwards as sounds of unbelievable ecstasy broke through her in great waves. As he felt her climax, he let every barrier down. He rammed into her as darts of heat spread to every point in his body. Seconds later he gave one last solid thrust and cried out, spilling into her as he shook with pleasure. When he regained his breath and resurfaced, he realized he had snuggled her close, his lips against her forehead, his palms rubbing over her back in a soothing, warming motion. She didn’t speak, and he waited and waited for her to say something, anything that would tell him what she was thinking. Stark fear hit him. Claudia had been like this the last time they’d made love. She’d spurned him shortly thereafter, telling him that he was…inadequate. Maybe he was. Deep within he knew what he felt with Courtney was so different, so rich, that if she turned away from him as Claudia had, the pain would be far deeper. He hugged her tightly, and she squirmed closer, draping one leg over his thigh so that he could feel her feminine warmth against him. He took a deep breath and willed himself to let it out slowly, to release the panic and fear threatening him. It was a fear born of joy and insecurity and an exultation that knew no definition. Suddenly he knew beyond a doubt what made this time different. He’d thought he’d loved Claudia, but now he realized he never had. He’d already been in love with Courtney. Had always loved Courtney. Gladness broke him, lifted him above the Earth into his own special heaven. He must have made a sound, because she propped up on one elbow and looked down on him. “So…” Her voice was breathy, and a touch mirthful. “Did I kill you?” She loved it when he smiled, and the grin he gave her now made her heart turn over triple-time. “Squirt, if that’s death, you can kill me anytime you want.” At the husky, unmistakably erotic tone in his voice, heat stole into her face. She would have thought, with the way she’d come apart in his arms, exposed herself in the most intimate manner, that she couldn’t blush again. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said, pulling her over on top of him and nestling her against him intimately. His inquiry surprised her. “I’m thinking that I’ve been a fool.” “Why?” “For not dragging you down and having my way with you a long time ago.” His laugh came suddenly and hard, rumbling through his chest. “What else are you thinking?”

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She leaned down to whisper in his ear, feeling inexplicably shy. “You are a fabulous lover.” His grin was carnal and filled with male ego. “I’m glad you said that. I was afraid I’d do something wrong. When Claudia—” He stopped and the grin disappeared until he looked mortified that he’d mentioned her name. A twinge of jealousy hit her. “What about Claudia?” Sighing, he ran his hand through her hair, mussing it even more. He shook his head, as if to dismiss the thought entirely. “Oh, no, you don’t. You’re not getting away with not telling me now,” she said. He looked doubtful. “I don’t want what happened to change your mind about me.” Little spurts of fear did somersaults in her stomach. What could he have possibly done that was so bad? “Tell me.” “According to Claudia one of the things that broke us up was that I was an inadequate lover.” Courtney knew her mouth had dropped open, and she stared at him in disbelief. Hastening to reassure him, she dipped her head and kissed him full on the lips. She’d meant it as a small token of understanding, but once his lips took hers, she was lost under the powerful assault of his mouth. His kiss drowned her in sensations that threatened to send them deep into the well again. When they came up for air, she said, “She must have been demented. You are incredible.” At her words he hardened against her and an answering tug pulled deep in her belly. She wiggled her hips and he drew in a swift breath. “If you keep doing that I won’t be responsible for the consequences.” She wiggled again, smiling. “I’ll keep doing it until you explain everything that happened. Did I imagine it, or did Miss Silicone Valley have anything to do with your breakup with Claudia?” He rolled her over until he could cradle her against his side again. He kissed her forehead. “Not really. I met Felicia after Claudia had indicated she wasn’t sure she wanted to marry me anymore.” She waited for his explanation, but nothing came. This called for serious intervention. Reaching out slowly, she caressed his chest. She allowed her fingertips to drift down over his stomach, and then she touched her tongue to one of his nipples. He drew in a swift breath. She half expected him to tell her to stop, but instead he wrapped his fingers in her hair and encouraged her exploration. She lingered there for long moments then drew back. “Tell me, or I’ll torture you within an inch of your life.” His eyelids fluttered open, and she saw the glaze of passion in his eyes. “I think I’m already there.” “Morgan,” she said in a warning tone. 120

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“Okay. Claudia had been acting strangely for a couple of months. She never wanted to make love, but when we did she seemed to go through the motions. We seemed to be stagnating, drifting apart. Nothing I did made a difference. Finally, after I tried to make love to her one last time, she told me the real problem was that I was dull. I couldn’t make love to save my life. She said my personality was boring.” Pain welled inside Courtney, and anger that Claudia could have been so cruel and so wrong. “Morgan, that’s ridiculous. You’re the most interesting man I’ve ever known.” He smiled tentatively. “I’ll bet you didn’t always think that.” “I didn’t recognize what I was feeling. I’ve been blind.” He kissed her softly, and ran his fingers through her hair. “After Claudia told me I was a lousy lover, and she thought we’d better break off the engagement, I was glad to go to the antique conference in Atlanta. I needed to nurse my wounds, I guess. I met Felicia there.” The squares fell into place in the puzzle immediately. “And Felicia came on to you like she did at the pool the other day.” “Exactly. I was smarting. It didn’t take much.” A stab of jealousy snapped her up and threatened to ruin her ability to listen to his story. She forced it down. “You went to bed with her.” “Yes. Once. Immediately afterwards I was ashamed of myself. I felt like I’d betrayed Claudia.” Courtney absorbed his story. “I see.” He tilted her face up to look at him. “Do you really?” Confusion did a dance within her, intimidating and annoying. She sat up, her bewilderment turning to doubt, her emotions building steadily, dangerously to a slow boil. “You loved Claudia and yet you were able to…” She couldn’t say it. His expression hardened, and she knew what he was thinking. She was condemning him for his action. “Yes. At least that’s what I thought at the time. After I left the conference I was in worse shape than when I got there. I felt like I’d betrayed Claudia even though she’d told me basically to go to hell. What I’d done…it wasn’t like me.” She sighed, wanting to release the suspicious bone in her body. “Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone falls off a wagon and does a wild thing. I don’t know anyone who hasn’t.” “I’ve always thought that Claudia was right.” She shook her head and lay back on the bed. She gazed at the ceiling, not touching him. “She hasn’t a cell left in her little pickled brain.” Silence stretched between them until she worried he was having second thoughts about what they’d done. “Are you still in love with Claudia?” 121

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He propped up on his elbow and looked down on her. “God, no—” She grabbed him and kissed him, effectively stifling his words. She didn’t want to know any more, and fear of losing him to something that had happened before propelled her onward. Only with passion, with blinding love could she make them both forget the past. When he released her, she knew. No matter what happened from this point forward, she’d always love him. With a deep and abiding commitment, there could never be another man for her. She melted. Didn’t the man have any concept how devastatingly handsome he was? Folding directly into herself, she burned like a pulsar, unstable and ready to explode. As he kissed her again she released all thoughts, blending into his embrace like liquid. As his tongue made love to her mouth, she moaned with a deep urgency. His hardness pressed against her thigh and she rolled with him, coming up on top of him so that she straddled his hips. Throbbing deep inside with a need to have him within her, she skipped preliminaries. Lifting herself up, she came down on him slowly, feeling his hot, hard length penetrate deep. He gasped, grabbed her waist, and thrust his hips up. Slowly she rode him, taking him gently until his hips bucked against her and she couldn’t take the pressure any longer. Wild with a desire to reach her peak, she increased the pace. The heat ripped through her, blinding her to everything but the primal sounds that came from beneath her as he joined her in ecstasy. Later, as they drifted into sleep, he knew he had to tell her what he felt. He nestled close and whispered the truth into her ear. “I love you.” She sighed. A deep, relaxed, contented sound. “I know.” His heart did a leap of gladness, a happiness deeper than anything he’d experienced moved into his soul. Somehow he had to show her she meant more to him than anything in the world. A plan formulated in his mind. Although he’d given her the antique ring as a sign of their pretend marriage, he wanted to give her a new ring. He’d get down on his knees and present it to her. Kissing her ear softly, he succumbed to sleep.

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Chapter Sixteen When Courtney woke the next morning, a ray of sunlight filtered through a crack in the curtains over the window. Sighing, she savored the last vestiges of sleep clouding her mind, and the masculine scent of Morgan lingering on the sheets. She reached out to find she was alone in the bed. Unreasonable fear rocketed through her, and she sat up, her gaze searching frantically for Morgan. The room was empty. He wasn’t here to share the excitement of waking up in each other’s arms. For an irrational second, she feared he’d left for good. That if she checked the closet she’d find his clothes gone. Then she saw his suitcase. She flopped back on the bed and closed her eyes. She thought back to yesterday and the passionate lovemaking they had shared throughout the afternoon. They’d spent the day and night loving, touching, laughing. It had been perfect. She recalled his soft murmur against her ear as she’d drifted to sleep, though she couldn’t recall the words. Could he have said…no… She’d dreamed last night that he said he loved her. A void filled her heart where moments ago she’d recalled nothing but the time they’d shared in each other’s arms and the miraculous love they’d made together. More than anything she wanted to be his real wife. Not as a convenience to qualify for a vacation, not as a temporary arrangement. She wanted their matrimony to be a permanent situation. She had to tell him she loved him, even if he didn’t feel the same way. If he declared that he didn’t return her love, she’d have to break the friendship with him. It would hurt. But wouldn’t it hurt more to see him on occasion and be reminded what they’d shared together at this hotel? Taking a deep breath, she left the bed. On the way to the bathroom she noticed a note on the bar. Squirt, Went shopping. May be gone for a few hours. Relax. See you later. Morgan. She sat back down on the bed. Went shopping? Her mind bounced from idea to idea. What was up his sleeve? Her stomach growled loudly. First things first. She’d get dressed and grab a croissant. Then she’d think about how she would tell him how much she loved him. She

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might even stop by that little negligee shop and get something to add to her love arsenal.

***** Morgan stared at the tray of engagement and wedding rings, dazzled by the selection and price range. Price wouldn’t be big concern. He wanted a ring that he knew Courtney would love and that would express his love for her. Her jewelry ran toward vintage design pieces. Most of the things on the tray, however, were very modern styles. The salesman waited patiently. “Take your time, sir. I’m sure we have what you’re looking for.” “It must be just right. It’s going to last forever.” The man nodded. “Oh, unmistakably, sir.” He gave a little laugh. “We specialize in marriage in here, if you haven’t guessed already. The Heart Inn is renowned for the number of weddings performed on the premises.” “So I’ve heard. Help me locate the right ring and there just might be another marriage to add to your large and distinguished list.” The door to the shop opened and closed, but Morgan ignored it. Several seconds later a warm hand clasped his arm. “Hello, Morg.” Startled, he turned to see Felicia, decked out in a tight fire engine red tank top and jeans. “Your fiancée, sir?” asked the man. “Why, Morg, you never told me,” Felicia said, fluttering her eyelashes with mock dramatic flair. Annoyance tightened Morgan’s throat. “No. Felicia and I aren’t engaged.” Felicia’s pretty nose twitched. “What? I thought you and Courtney were…” “Going to be married. I’m asking her to marry me.” “You’re already married.” Morgan gritted his teeth and looked at that salesman, whose eyes narrowed in disapproval. “I’m not already married.” Felicia crossed her arms. “I don’t get it. Why are you in the honeymoon suite—” “Be quiet for once, Felicia, and make yourself useful.” The man looked from Felicia to Morgan as if he was watching a tennis match, a perplexed frown covering his face. Morgan shifted on his feet impatiently and hooked his thumbs in his front belt loops. “I need to find the perfect ring for Courtney.” He showed Felicia the tray of rings. “She likes antique-looking jewelry.”

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The man perked up. “Well, why didn’t you say so, sir? I have the perfect ring right here.” Unlocking a drawer in the display case, he pulled out a small red velvet tray that held one ring. “This is an exquisite piece.” Felicia gasped when she saw the ring. Morgan’s eyes widened. A large, emerald cut diamond sparkled atop a wide, white gold filigree band. The ring was beautiful and the diamond much larger than the other ring he’d given Courtney. Before he could inspect the ring closer, Felicia snapped it up and slipped it on her finger. “Wow.” She turned to him suddenly and wrapped her arms around his neck. Before he could utter a sound she kissed him. He reached and peeled her arms away, pushing her back gently. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Felicia?” It was then that Morgan caught a glimpse of Courtney standing outside the jewelry store. She stared right at him and Felicia, her expression a cross between furious and crushed. “Oh, God. Courtney,” he whispered. Moving quickly, he crossed to the door just in time to see her disappear into the elevator. Courtney hurried down the hotel corridor toward the honeymoon suite, her heart thumping wildly. When she arrived at her hotel room door, she jammed the card key into the slot and yanked it out too quickly. The red dot flashed. “Damn it.” She tried again, this time slowly. Finally the lock worked. Quickly she entered, slamming the door behind her and leaning against it. Then it came to her. She knew what she had to do. One more day in Morgan’s presence would kill her. If she acted the part, if she continued to play his wife in this farce, she’d have more of a broken heart than she already did. She couldn’t do this. Grabbing her suitcase, she opened the closet and reached for clothes, hastily tossing items into the case. She heard the door open and close. “What are you doing?” She turned to Morgan and saw surprise written clearly across his face. “What does it look like?” she asked. “Packing. Getting the hell out of this happilyever-after playground.” He moved into the room until he stood next to her suitcase. She reached into the dresser and removed the rest of her underwear from the drawer with one sweep of her hands. She dumped everything into the case. Reaching for her shoulder, he touched her gently. “Courtney—” She shrugged off his hand and gathered her makeup. “Go find something to do, Morgan. This is a big resort with a dozen things to do you haven’t even tried yet. Have you tried the trout fishing?” She threw a dirty look at him. “Oh, wait, no. You’ve

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already done that and found you like certain types of fish better then others. You’ve tried plain old trout and discovered a stingray is more to your liking.” Without saying anything this time, he turned her to face him, holding her arms. She glared at him for a full thirty seconds, and he still said nothing as he gazed intently into her eyes. Finally, he said, “You’re acting like this because you saw me with Felicia.” “I…” She wanted to lie. Wanted to tell him that everything that had happened yesterday and last night had been wrong. Maybe the numerous times they’d sent each other into ecstasy had been the biggest mistakes of their lives. Instead, the words wouldn’t form. She felt the first tears flirt with her eyelashes, ready to fall free. “Yes.” He closed his eyes and sighed then he brought her into his arms, using his hand to press her head against his shoulder. “It’s all a mistake. A misunderstanding.” Was he admitting it now? If he was, the words coming from his mouth hurt her far more than she’d imagined they would. “I knew you’d come to your senses,” she murmured against his shoulder, a shuddering gulp leaving her throat as the tears began in earnest. She pulled back slightly. “Why did you do it, Morgan? Did you think playing with me was going to be a fun sideline? Why didn’t you just go back to Felicia and leave me alone?” His mouth dropped open, and his frown matched hers. “Courtney, that’s ridiculous. You think I’d make love to you and then run to Felicia?” “I knew this would ruin our friendship. I knew it.” “This is crazy. It hasn’t ruined anything. You don’t understand what happened.” “Maybe it isn’t meant to be, Morgan. You haven’t rid yourself of your love for Claudia, or your attraction to Felicia. Or maybe being faithful isn’t in you.” He released her arms. “I can’t believe you just said that.” His lips thinned into a tight line. “You know me better than any woman has ever known me. No one has touched my heart the way you have. Not Claudia, and certainly not Felicia. From the moment you stopped by my locker in my senior year and introduced yourself, from the moment you became my friend, I’ve cherished that relationship more than anything else. And you know what? Maybe that was the problem all along.” Her heart hammered, her gaze latching onto the serious lines of his face, the deepness of emotion that flared in his eyes. “What do you mean?” “I think that’s why Claudia and I didn’t stay together. Because there was really only one woman I could give my heart to. She was right, Courtney. I was a lousy lover because my emotions and my feelings weren’t caught up in it. She could feel that and realized I didn’t love her.” He reached for her again, his arms sliding around her. “It’s been you. I’ve been blind. I let our friendship get in the way of my deeper feelings.” A glimmer of hope jumpstarted her heart. “You’re saying your relationship with Claudia didn’t work because you wanted me the whole time?”

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He nodded. “When you were with Stan I should have recognized the signs. Before I even heard that he was treating you like crap, I felt something. Like my heart was breaking. I threw myself into my business. I tried to forget you. It didn’t work.” The glimmer pushed upward until the lump in her throat eased. “When I was with Stan I didn’t understand why I was spending so much time thinking about you.” “God.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “If I’d only known. If I’d acknowledged what I felt we could have skipped this whole damn vacation and been married by now.” Married. The word flooded her with a searing, unbelievable joy. Married to Morgan. Not playacting. Not pretend. Real-life marriage. “You want to marry me?” she asked. His lips almost touched hers and he whispered, “Yes.” Then he kissed her, his lips warming and treasuring her. Wholeheartedly she returned his embrace, feeling a low burn of excitement burst in her stomach. When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing quickly. “I’ve known since yesterday that I was in love with you, and I went into the jewelry store to get a new ring,” Morgan said. “Something real I could give you when I asked you to marry me. What you saw in the store today was Felicia snatching the ring before I could pick it up. She must have seen you standing at the window and kissed me to make you jealous.” Courtney sighed deeply. “I think her and I are going to have a serious disagreement.” He smiled. “First I’m going back to get that new ring for you.” She beamed. “You don’t have to do that.” “I want to, for you.” She looked at the ring already on her finger. “I’d rather keep this one. As a symbol of our make-believe marriage turning into a real one.” His gaze burned high with a joy she’d never seen on his face before. “All right. Then will you marry me and make me the happiest man in the world?” This time the tears that came were happy. “Morgan, you…I…” “Maybe this will help,” he said huskily, bringing her into a hot kiss that spoke of forbidden delights not far from reach. When he released her she felt slightly dizzy, as if she’d stepped off a gravity ride at a carnival. “I love you, Morgan.” He smiled. “And I love you. Is that a yes?” She threw her arms around him and hugged him. “Yes. Yes, and yes again.” She leaned back. “I can’t believe I doubted you. I was insane. I’m so sorry.”

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“I understand. We’ve both got healing to do. But together we’ll find a way to cure the bruises.” He looked at her suitcase. “Can we unpack you now?” Moving out of his arms, she picked up the lump of lingerie and dumped it back into the drawer. “Of course.” He saw a push-up bra and picked it up to examine the red lace. “Wow. What is this?” “A little something I bought today. I was going to seduce you with it.” His gaze grew sultry as he looked at the bra, then at her. “I don’t think you would have had to work at it very hard.” Smiling, she leaned against him. “That so?” “Mmmmm.” He buried his nose in her fragrant hair. Then he saw a thong bikini, garter belt and thigh-high stockings in the suitcase. He lifted the garter belt. “I hope you were planning on wearing this, too.” Giving him her most lascivious stare, she winked. “I was.” Tucking her closer into his arms he kissed her forehead, her ears, her neck and finally came within a whisper of her lips. She burned, ready for anything he wanted. “Model this for me,” he said. “What?” “You, in this underwear, now,” he said, his voice deep and husky as his mouth brushed hers. “Gladly.”

***** The Heart Inn Chapel, which sat on the grounds of the resort, spiraled high into the clear, Rocky Mountain air like a miniature of a grand cathedral. And within the stained glass splendor, two people very much in love repeated vows of tenderness and fidelity. The man wore a dark charcoal tux, the woman a soft mauve, tailored gown with a hem that brushed the floor. A nosegay of small, white roses nestled in her hair, and in her hand resided a petite bouquet of the same sweet-scented flowers. As Edna looked on, Morgan and Courtney stared deep into each other’s eyes and exchanged vows. When the reverend pronounced them husband and wife and they kissed lingeringly, Edna, Rachel, and her fiancé Rick let out a whoop and clapped. Courtney and Morgan turned to their enthusiastic friends and hugged each of them. “If you two aren’t the most delicious-looking couple,” Edna said. “What have you got planned for the honeymoon?” asked Rachel as she winked at them. Courtney and Morgan grinned but kept mum.

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“Well, come on. Are you slipping away to another resort out of prying eyes?” Rick asked. Courtney reached for Morgan’s hand and pressed his fingers lightly, enjoying the heat and warmth. “We’re doing absolutely nothing.” At Edna’s severe look, Morgan cleared his throat. “Well, first we’re having the celebration dinner with all of you. After that we’re locking ourselves in our room for another two days—” “Maybe three,” Courtney said. Morgan nodded. “Maybe three. Then we’re heading home. We’ve got a lot of changes and plans to make.” As they walked down the aisle, Edna, Rick and Rachel trailed behind. “Sounds like a proper honeymoon to me,” Rachel said. “Are you going to let the photographer put one of your photos up in the staircase at the hotel?” Morgan shrugged. “Why not?” “I think it’s a great idea,” Courtney said, looking up at him and feeling her love expand. “Then, when we come back on our anniversary, we can remember where we first discovered our love.” As Morgan smiled down on her, she knew they’d be back to the Heart Inn to remember the place where they realized a love greater than they could ever have imagined. The End

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About the Author Suspenseful, erotic, edgy, thrilling, romantic, adventurous. All these words are used to describe award-winning, best-selling novelist Denise A. Agnew’s novels. Romantic Times Magazine called her romantic suspense novels DANGEROUS INTENTIONS and TREACHEROUS WISHES “top-notch romantic suspense.” With paranormal, time travel, romantic comedy, contemporary, historical, erotica, and romantic suspense novels under her belt, she proves her gift for writing about a diverse range of subjects. (Writing tales that scare the reader is her ultimate thrill.) Denise’s inspiration for her novels comes from innumerable sources, but the fact she has lived in Colorado, Hawaii, and the United Kingdom has given her a lifetime of ideas. Her experiences with archaeology have crept into her work, as well as numerous travels throughout England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales. Denise currently lives in Arizona with her real life hero, her husband. Denise welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502.

Also by Denise A. Agnew

If you are interested in a spicier read (and are over 18), check out her erotic romances at Ellora’s Cave Publishing (www.ellorascave.com). By Honor Bound anthology The Dare Deep is the Night: Dark Fire Deep is the Night: Haunted Souls Deep is the Night: Night Watch Ellora’s Cavemen: Tales From the Temple IV anthology Men To Die For anthology Special Agent Santa Special Investigations Agency: Impetuous Special Investigations Agency: Over the Line Special Investigations Agency: Primordial Special Investigations Agency: Sins and Secrets Winter Warriors anthology

Cerridwen, the Celtic goddess of wisdom, was the muse who brought inspiration to storytellers and those in the creative arts. Cerridwen Press encompasses the best and most innovative stories in all genres of today’s fiction. Visit our site and discover the newest titles by talented authors who still get inspired—much like the ancient storytellers did, once upon a time. www.cerridwenpress.com