Naughty By Nature. Jule McBride

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СКАЧАТЬ night,” she began, feeling forced to defend herself, “I thought you knew it was me.” And their joining had been so perfect and complete she’d felt sure there would be a future for them. Or at least a formal date. Or maybe just a wild, passionate fling. “I thought you didn’t flirt because you were working, and since you were going back to headquarters today…” Her voice trailed off. “I thought you knew Lucy snuck out at night to see Bjorn—”

      His eyes dropped over her. “How would I know that?”

      Wishing she wasn’t feeling body heat seep from beneath the shirt she’d torn from his chest, she tried not to gape at him. “Because you’re from the Secret Service, that’s how.”

      “We don’t know everything.”

      Her tone stopped just shy of acid. “Obviously.”

      There was a long silence. While she hated striking a nerve by attacking his competence, she suddenly couldn’t fight the urge to get a rise out of him. She’d like to evoke enough reaction that he’d tumble back into that big, warm, mussed bed, taking her with him. She couldn’t help it. She’d never felt anything like what they’d experienced last night, and now he looked like a man emerging from a seedy bar after a wild drunken night—his clothes wrecked, his hair sticking straight up and thick dark stubble coating his jaw. Every rakish inch of him was making her knees turn to jelly.

      “A lot of men find me charming,” she added. In case he didn’t quite get all the implications, she continued, “Men have slept with me, knowing it was me.”

      He murmured, “So I’ve heard.”

      Her fingers tightened anxiously around the sheet. “Heard what, exactly?”

      Assessing eyes glinted with what might have been male need, and during another prolonged silence, she heard the tick of a clock and muted dialogue as Lucy marshaled her father from the kitchen. Devastating and liquid, Morgan’s eyes were traveling over her with such hungry, bold possessiveness that she was sure he was going to take it all back. He was going to say he’d known it was her, not Lucy, all along….

      “Let’s forget what happened,” he said.

      “Last night’s not the kind of thing most people forget.”

      “True,” he admitted. “But we’re not most people, are we?”

      He made things sound so reasonable, but she wanted to protest, to say she’d never forget their hours of pleasure. “I just want to know one thing.”

      “What?”

      “Well…you said we owe it to ourselves to be honest.”

      Looking miffed at having his words used against him again, he edged aggressively closer. “Okay,” he muttered, his eyes lashing into hers. “I’ll be honest. Perfectly honest. What do you want to know?”

      With him so close, her heart started hammering. She hated humbling herself, but after last night, she agreed with him that they had no choice but to be honest. “Why?” she asked. “What’s wrong with me? Why are you sorry it was me, not Lucy?”

      He seemed unaware he’d gripped her arm and was using a thumb to rub deep circles on her bare skin—or that he did so until she felt so hot, she was half convinced she was wearing an electric blanket instead of a sheet. “I know what you’re thinking,” he finally said. “You’re smart, you’re rich, you’re gorgeous, right? So, why shouldn’t the hired help be happy to do whatever you want?”

      Including sleep with her? As much as she appreciated the back-door admission that she was smart, rich and gorgeous, she instinctively backed away—only to pull him with her. “You’re wrong,” she managed to say as her back hit the wall. “And I’m no snob.”

      “If anything—” he agreed with a readiness that fueled her temper “—maybe you’re too undiscriminating.”

      She thought of how brazenly her tongue had swirled over every inch of him. “You’ve got a point there,” she admitted shakily. She’d certainly never shared her body with somebody who didn’t even like her. “I definitely should have gotten to know you better before—before…” She couldn’t force herself to say the words before we made love. “Before, well, you know.”

      “It’s not the first time you’ve made this mistake, is it?”

      She felt a sledgehammer knock the wind from her. “What?”

      “A little truth bothers you?” His gaze was tracing her lips, the expression in his eyes a little lost, as if he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her again. “At least you’ve got a conscience.”

      “Just because I slept with you,” she said, color flooding her cheeks, “and just because it was good doesn’t mean I do it all the time.” Before Hans Breakman, she’d only had one other lover, a boy she’d met in high school. “You say that as if I’ve slept with every Tom, Dick and—”

      “Ivan Petrovitch.” Morgan cut in. “What about him?”

      Had Morgan Fine stooped to believing what he read in the tabloids? Before she could ask, he added, “And let’s not forget Kenneth Hopper.”

      Apparently Kenneth Hopper had told his Secret Service buddies about the most humiliating incident of her life. For a second, the present fell away, and with it a piece of her heart. Vanessa was reliving the months following her mother’s death. Slowly, she was watching her father withdraw to hide in his work. Since he kept forcing her to attend school, she’d kept flunking out so she could come home and take care of him. With her mother gone, she’d had no shoulder to cry on except Lucy’s—and Hans’s. Mrs. Giangarfalo had left for Arizona. Vanessa had been so sure Hans loved her that, even now, the betrayal made her voice falter. “What did Kenneth say?” How could the agent who’d been kind enough to bring her home lie to his coworkers?

      Morgan’s eyes turned cold. “Not much. He’s never worked in this country again.”

      “Kenneth wanted to work overseas.” She defended herself. “And I don’t know what you heard, but I was…was in love with Hans.”

      Morgan shrugged. “He was the gardener, right?”

      She was starting to think better of making herself vulnerable to Morgan, but after last night, she still felt compelled to try. “You’re the one coming onto me as if I’m a snob. What’s his job got to do with anything?” Before he could answer, she plunged on. “Is that what’s bothering you this morning? That you’re working for my father?”

      “I work for the Secret Service.”

      And he thought she was a flighty woman looking for flings—with men who worked here. Well, so be it. She had more pride than to let him know how he’d gotten to her last night.

      At least until he said, “What about your lover?”

      Once more, his words took the wind out of her sails. “My…what?”

      “Lover.” Seemingly impulsively, Morgan lifted the hand from her arm and glided a finger down her cheek, the touch leaving a furrow filled with longing for him. “‘Oh, Vanessa,”’ he murmured, the sexy words coming from his lips affecting her more than they СКАЧАТЬ